#there are some very intriguing fics in progress on ao3

[bunnakit]

*gets back on stage* Thank you, thank you, glad to be back on stage! *preps the mic*

ehem... So about this: let me explain it to the babies in this hellsite that still are too new to a/b/o - omegaverse dynamics.

You have probably seeing our favorite alpha4alpha duo going at each others necks like their lifes depend on it.

And even in their case this gesture is important due to, you guessed it: scent.

Yet, if you go through all their makeouts and nc scenes, there's no bite to be seeing. And that's because there's no use to it in their case. Let me explain why:

This whole gesture turns into a much intricate dynamic when we are talking about an alpha4omega relationship.

The neck is really significant in this "setting" due to the existence of "scent glands". Is basically an exaggeration on how, even in "normal humans", any type of smell is more powerful on the neck area due to the pulsing and warmth of blood, which helps the skin to maintain a smell for much longer. That's why we usually wear perfume on our necks. or why vampires always go to the neck but wrong bl to talk about that.

Now, onto this "scent glands": is what gives away the subgender of anyone just by one sniff. They are the reason why Babe got really happy after those couple of sniffs onto Charlie's neck.

But in their case, that's about as much use as they have. "You smell nice!", that's it.

With our favorite alpha4omega, AlanJeff and you can also attribute this to SonicNorth btw 👀, this area can take a much more importance. Why? Because of marking.

"Marking" in omegaverse is when an alpha "claims" an omega: is a deep bite to the neck area where the scent glands are located. Once an alpha marks an omega, the omega can mark that same alpha back, also claiming it. After you get marked, that's it, you are forever partnered unless one of them dies or the bond is somehow broken but let's not think about it now. Your scent even changes, letting everyone around you know not only that you have being marked, but also whom you belong to.

Now that you know this, my post saying that we are one little step away from this to happen is more clear: because y'all can't tell me that THIS:

isn't the face of an omega whoms being more than ready to be marked and claimed. Jeff has wanted this old man's teeth sunken on his neck since two lifetimes ago.

Because when this little shit said "I can't see anything when you touch me" is pure bullshit! I know, Jefferson, that by this point:

You already knew a bathroom nailing session was bound to happened and I'm trying to not going insane about the position of their heads, I BETTER SEE A BITE MARK DURING THE BATHTUB SCEEN AFTERWARDS.

YOU AIN'T SLICK hehe, JEFFREY, AND NEITHER IS ALAN. My old man is losing his mind for a reason, never instinct has hit him harder than now. Ma boi is ready to take the responsibility and the opportunity cannot come faster for the both of them.

So yeah, that's it. Nothing else to add.

GIVE US THE MARKING, YOU BRAVE COWARDS!!

*runs off stage*

[haunting-heroes-creative-games]

✨ Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About The Haunting Heroes Discord But Didn’t Want To Ask ✨

Are you looking to join this DPxDC server but don't know what it's about? Are you new to Discord and want to figure a few dynamics about it first? Then this is the post for you!

We're Super excited to share with you some of the features you can expect when you join the Haunting Heroes DPxDC Discord server.

🔷 I’m new to Discord. What is Discord?

A noble question. Discord is a messaging/private server application where you can join servers to chat, text, and video call people. Lots of fandoms have servers dedicated to their beloved show/book/comics/blorbos

It’s a popular platform because a) it’s free and b) it’s very easy to organize.

Haunting Heroes, as such, is essentially a private chat room where you can talk about DPxDC with other fans. There are other DPxDC servers, but you can never have too many!

🔷 What do you do on Haunting Heroes?

We do a lot! If you’re here, you may have seen the results of the Writing Games we’ve played, like "Who Wrote That?" as well as "Guess That Fic" (a fun way to give fic recs AND test your DPxDC fic knowledge!).

We also share updates of fanart, non fanart, and fan fics, as well as recommendations to stories we’ve read and enjoyed.

And we have plenty of ways to discuss ideas: from canon resources to headcanons that intrigue you; from prompts to workshopping your story ideas; from asking for a beta-reader to sharing your progress. Sometimes this even happens live while doing a sprint with others.

🔷 What does ‘18+ SFW’ mean?

18+ is fairly straightforward: you have to be 18 years or older to join our server. So why SFW?

We decided to emphasize the Safe For Work aspect not because no NSFW content is allowed—we have a flourishing NSFW category as well as a Dark Category with channels for people to talk about it to your hearts’ content! We welcome more mature content, but not everyone wants to engage in it, or only want to engage on their own terms. Being able to curate what you do and don't see is important to us, hence the separate categories (and having to self-select a role to see the NSFW + Dark channels)

We add SFW when talking about HH because ‘18+’ on its own has certain connotations (just like ‘adult content’ or ‘adults only’).

Why, then, are we an 18+ server? We appreciate the under 18s in our fandom, and there are lots of fandom places that are open to all ages (for example, this blog!). But there are older fans who feel more comfortable in an adult oriented space. We noted that a place for adults only in the DPxDC fandom was missing, and wanted to fill that niche.

🔷 Why Should I Join?

✏️ If you’re a writer, you can find a beta reader or ping the Ideas Helper role if you want some help with your story. You can find and share resources for various things, such as writing, art, and how to use A03.

🐱 We also share lots of pictures of our pets!

💡 We have fun emojis and stickers unique to Haunting Heroes, many made by people who are part of the server.

⭐️ We have a starboard! If someone says something you find funny, react to their post with a star emoji; if a post gets 9 stars, it gets shared to the board! It’s like the highlights reel at the end of a Mario Kart Race, but user generated. It's a good way to quickly know what's been going on in the server.

🐰 Our Bunny Hutch (AKA prompts sharing category) is always hopping. Enter at your own risk! You may go there with the intention of dropping off one prompt for someone else to adopt, and leave having adopted 4 new WIPS of your own!

And most importantly, we are a fandom community looking to share with each other the things we love doing or seeing in the fandom. You are likely to find writers, artists, and commenters you know from AO3 or Tumblr, but you might also find new friends to hang out with or be inspired by new things while lurking.

🔷 What can I expect upon joining?

☑️ Once you join, you will have to read our guidelines to make sure you agree with them and know what you can expect in terms of how we handle the server.

☑️ There are also roles to be selected so you can customize your experience. Some roles will allow you to give information to other members (such as the pronouns you select), others will give you an aesthetic (such as color roles), others are pingable and alert you for specific activities (such as movie nights ,or a new writing game being set up, or when someone wants others to bounce ideas). Some will also grant you access to specific sections in our server, such as dark or nsfw channels, which won't be visible otherwise.

☑️ Don't forget to also select the 18+ role which grants you acces to the whole server. This one is made specifically to confirm you agree with the guidelines and are 18 or older, since that's our sole requirement to join the server.

☑️ Once you define your roles, you can check our server roadmap to guide you through the many channels we have in the server with descriptions for each of them and the bots we have available to help through the experience.

☑️ Don't worry if you get a few pings upon entering: we have a welcome mat where others will greet you once you're in.

🔷 How can I join?

To join, send us an ask confirming you're 18+ and someone in our team will send you the link. You can find the ask box as "Ask us anything here" at the top of our blog or clicking here. Please make sure you check your inbox for our reply. If you sent us an ask and haven't gotten a reply in 48hrs, please let us know either replying in this post or contacting one of our mods.

We hope you have fun and fulfill your hero-haunting needs💚👻

[sauronpasta]

Rings of Power Sauron/Galadriel Fic Rec Post of Fics that are Exactly my Taste:

Part 2/? Favorite Works in Progress

You know that feeling? When you're at work and you aimlessly check your personal email and there's a blessed email from Ao3 letting you know that THAT fic updated? And you tell yourself you're going to read it at home later and enjoy it with a good beverage but instead you lock yourself in the bathroom and read it when you're supposed to be [insert relevant work task here]? These are the fics that make me do that.

Don't believe the propaganda! Reading works in progress is good for the community, good for authors who need motivation, and good for the soul when you get the blessed email!

As always, if anyone knows these wonderful authors on tumblr, please tag them.

~

kalopsía by properhaunt, 4/? Chapters, E: This fic is a retelling/reworking of season 2. While I love what the show did, I wish we got more Annatar/Galadriel interaction, and this fic delivers on that. The tension is delicious, the interactions between Sauron and Galadriel ping ponging between longing and tenderness and downright violence, which is just how I like them. The smut is great and it's so integrated, rather than interrupting the action it is part of it, their relationship the main focus. The author also tagged it "down bad crying at the forge" and that made me giggle.

Naked Like Water by goldberry (@wildwren), 4/9 Chapters, E: The premise here is that post-season 2, Galadriel is helping to build Imladris, and starts having visions and dreams of a strange Halbrand figure. She thinks it's just Sauron fucking with her, but all is not as it seems. This fic features a very elven and magical Galadriel, and some really lovely descriptive and figurative prose. There's a scene between Arondir and Galadriel that made me tear up just from the goodness of it. Rings of Power is the darker side of Tolkien, which I love, but it's important to remember that this world is a good world worth saving, and that's what's special about Middle Earth. This fic is really focusing on that goodness, in more ways than one!

Reforged in the Making by Irony_Rocks, 9/? Chapters, E: I am obsessed with this fic. It explores what would happen if Sauron had won in the third age, and Galadriel gave herself up to him to be his queen, featuring half-Maia Celebrian, always a guilty pleasure. This fic just delights me, everything from Sauron's straight up Gothic decor in Dol Guldur to him REALLY trying to do the right thing by Galadriel and Celebrian despite being... you know... the Abhorred Dark Lord. It's also sexy as hell, just saying.

there's a few bad things I've done by Orcas86, 8/? Chapters, E: I was going to make a separate AU list, but I realized I haven't read that many AUs for this fandom quite yet. This is one of my first, and it's amazing. Galadriel is a political advisor/aide to MP Halbrand (apologies for my own errors, I don't know much about the British political system). They are having a secret affair, and the story really focuses on Galadriel as a character in these circumstances. Her family, her backstory, the ramifications this affair could have on her career. Her inner monologue is very compelling, and the author has a great command of their language style. It has a vibe of a really good political thriller but with a depth to the relationships those shows don't often have. You want to trust Halbrand in this BUT he's also very mysterious, so I'm really intrigued to see where it will all go.

SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT: I also have my own WIP, just saying

Craft and Creation by destielpasta (my ao3 handle), 7/? Chapters, E, Season 2 Canon Divergent

[reriart]

RE: Your ask I saw a little it ago.

So you know all those BG3 fics where someone’s with a Teifling or Dragonborn and the POV character is really into their partners tail? What if Astarion was curious about what his partners tail was capable of?

Happy Friday!

A different kind of reading

Hi! Thanks for this request. I really like the prompt. It took me several days to decide whether to use a tiefling or a dragonborn (I had never used the latter, so I created one on BG3 to study it a bit). In the end, considering the fact that the dragonborn has many scales, and the nature of fanfiction, I preferred to proceed with a tiefling! I wanted to write Astarion in first person but he is a very difficult character to play, so I preferred a third person. I hope you like it, anon! ;)

As always, please remember that English is not my native language!

Tags: 18+ smut, MDNI, gn!Reader (using they/them), tailfucking, tailjob, Tav is a tiefling that uses magic, kink, sex, mention of Astarion’s past, a hint of angst because why not (trauma + healing at his own times), Tav is insecure about their appearance. Also, a tiny Karlach x Dammon. Divider by @anitalenia. You can read the fic also on AO3.

‘So that's how it works...’ Astarion commented, a sly smile on his face, as he flipped through some old, yellowed pages. ‘Never judge a book by its cover.’

Hard as a Rock and Ninety-Nine Other Spells to Use Under the Sheets is already a questionable enough title; the red linen cover with a big phallic rock on it with fake, cheap gold details is even worse. 

Yet, Astarion had been attracted to that book a little earlier in the evening, among the various texts available in Dammon's house (who would have thought the shy tiefling would be so interested in such topics? ), who had offered a hot drink to the whole group after meeting them in Baldur's Gate (probably in the vain hope of flirting with Karlach... who drank the boiling tea, describing it as ‘refreshing’). Just as the two were flirting, the elf had sneaked around the house, noticing piles upon piles of books. Obviously intrigued by the common theme, he had started leafing through some of them only to be interrupted by Tav.

‘You really read a shit ton of books,’ they had commented, peeping over the vampire's shoulder, causing him to jump on the spot and snap the tome shut. ‘Our blacksmith friend has obscene tastes, truly. Who would have thought such a depraved man!’ had been Astarion's reply, in an irreverent tone... before shoving the said volume under his leather jacket, only to read it in his own tent shortly after sunset to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

Astarion had always spoken freely about sex... at least with strangers, to whom he showed his libertine façade. But with Tav things were distinctly different, ever since he had confessed that he had really fallen in love with them. The tiefling had awakened pure, honest feelings in him, but also anxiety, fear. Fear of making things too fast, fear of not being enough, fear of not being himself when he was with them; of being rotten, broken inside, irreparable.

But Tav had taught him how to love, first starting with a hug that had left the vampire stunned - a simple gesture, as innocent as it was frightening, because no one had ever hugged him since his transformation (perhaps his mother, when he was a child, but it had been far too many years for him to remember). Then the caresses: superficial, gentle, then increasingly intimate. From the face, to the chest, and lower. Astarion had discovered he loved the tiefling's touch, after an initial hesitation. The act of trust itself was the thing that made him feel on cloud nine, far more than the excitement.

Then they had progressed to lovemaking. Astarion had discovered the pleasures of being cared for, snuggled, in ways he had never even imagined. Because imagining being everybody's whore at the Szarr palace was easy, but receiving attention, being the centre of it... that was hard to imagine.

He had discovered the gentle touch of Tav's hands, their warm, sweet mouth, the warmth of their sex, so different from his cold, marble skin...

But there was something that haunted him: their tail. Tav had always been ashamed of it: the tieflings they had known in their life - including their parents, but also Karlach - all had beautiful tails. They had a very simple one, without spikes or cartilage, and also quite thick, with a very round tip. For this reason they tended, whenever possible, to hide it. 

Astarion had never dared to touch it: he had realised it was a weak point for the tiefling. However, that very curious book had led him to discover a fascinating truth.

"Tieflings have an extremely sensitive tail, which swells even more during mating, making it an erogenous zone suitable for all kinds of spells, especially those involving fire and ice."

Astarion's attention had stopped at ‘erogenous zone’. 

He had long harboured a fantasy that perhaps even he, who had probably had more sexual partners than his years spent as a vampire spawn, would have described as perverse. He not only wanted to touch that tail, kiss it, lick it, maybe try to bite it to feel if the blood tasted different there, but also... to have it inside.

Astarion knew very well that he took pleasure in penetration. Tav had occasionally played with his asshole during oral sex, inserting a finger or two, making him tremble and come on their tongues.

But, gods, what would he have given for...?

‘Astarion?’

Tav's face popped up inside the heavy, battered tent, a friendly smile always ready to light up his face. ‘Are you alright? It's the middle of the night and I saw you still have your lamp lit. Do you need blood?’

This was another thing that used to drive Astarion crazy: the tiefling's attention to detail. He cared for him all round, always paying attention to his bloodlust, his moments of weakness when he had none left in his body; they noticed when his body stiffened from anxiety and knew about the nights when the elf couldn't even go into his trance, nights when he usually just read until his eyes were on fire.

‘N-no, thank you sweetheart, you already gave me some yesterday and I don't want to debilitate you any more than...’

‘That book again? What's so good about it?’ they asked, closing the curtain behind them and stretching dangerously towards the tome. ‘Give me here-’

‘Nothing special! It's just, you know, very funny, haha!’ he replies, closing it and throwing it into the backpack behind him using all his agility - not enough, however, to stop their Misty Steps. 

‘Sooner or later I swear I'm going to break that magical necklace’ he mumbles, as Tav appears behind him, grabbing the book in time. ‘Let's see what you were reading...’

With a theatrical gesture, the tiefling's hand rises, making the pages move to where the reading had been interrupted.

"Tiefling and sex: a hellish pleasure, chapter 16."

Astarion swallows, averting his gaze. ‘’It's-it's not what you think,‘’ he stutters, throwing off his mask once more. ‘I was just curious...’

Tav begins to read, stroking their chin. ‘So, you want to use magic in bed. Are you sure?’

‘I... that's not what I'm interested in,’ he confesses, knowing that he can't blurt it out this time. Also because the tiefling's tail is finally free and not hidden under pounds of fabric, which brings all of Astarion's blood between his thighs. 

It is beautiful: smooth, free of frills. It moves like a whip, like an oak branch on a rainy evening. He licks his teeth.

‘But it's a book about magic and sex. And you don't look to me like a great lover of the first one. Drop it, Astarion,' they intimated. But the vampire's gaze is fixed on the tail moving left and right, the round tip caressing the air. He feels an emptiness inside him, a void he wants to fill.

Tav sighs, turning around. ‘There's something in the tent that-’

They breath catches, realising that behind them there is, in fact, only their tail. 

"Tieflings have extremely sensitive tails...’ they reads out loud, then snap the tome shut. 'Is that what's going through your head? Do you want to touch my tail? You know I hate it and if I could I would..."

‘’It's gorgeous,‘’ he whispers, in a trembling voice. ‘I can't stop thinking about it. I know you can't stand its appearance, but I want to touch it so badly...’

Tav doesn't know how to react. It is the first time Astarion confesses this interest of his, even complimenting. He had only previously asked to touch it and had been smacked full in the face by the said tail.

But they are attentive to details. They notice the vampire's erection, his dilated irises. His cheeks, perhaps by a trick of the light, even look a little pink.

‘All right, but just once. I don't want you to... look at her any more than you have to,' they warn him, prodding their thumbs with the horns, a gesture Astarion has by now learned to interpret as shyness. ‘Let's consider it an exchange for that time I touched your ears.’ 

The elf is amazed when they turn around, showing their shoulders. The tail comes out of a hole artfully sewn between the trousers, so as not to show more than it should. 

He releases it from that restraint, lowering it just enough to look and touch it in the warm candlelight, but without showing any extra skin. Smooth, thick, to the top, round and perfect. Astarion reaches out a hand, making them both gasp when he touches it. 

He runs a thumb over the top, squeezing the tip between his fingertips just enough to make his beloved sigh. He then proceeds down, bringing it close to his face, stroking it with the tip of his nose. ‘Gods, you're so perfect.’

The cold breath on his skin makes Tav gasp, who plants their claws on his own thighs and bites his lip, trying to hold back a groan; which they're unable to do when Astarion reaches the base and after a brief massage begins to lick the patch of skin that joins the tail to the body.

‘Oh, gods, Astarion... wait!’

‘You know you have to use the safe word in these cases,’ he whispers. Ever since they had started making love, because Astarion was still exploring his tastes, the tiefling had suggested using a word of caution in case either of them really wanted to interrupt. This was because, occasionally, they both tended to ask to wait when they really just wanted to get on with it. 

... ‘and I'm not hearing it.’

Tav, almost instinctively, stretches their body downwards, raising the bottom upwards, moaning as softly as possible so as not to wake the others, while he continues to lick the base. Twisting the tail in his hands, just like a cat when its attention is drawn to prey.

‘Now, hold still,’ he orders to Tav, licking languidly along the length. ‘Tail included.’ They execute, trying to spy him from behind the shoulder. ‘What are you gonna do?’

‘You'll see soon enough, my love.’

Astarion flicks his tongue up and down, helping himself with his hands to bring it to his mouth. The fangs caress the skin, without scratching. The temptation to bite is high, but for now his plans are otherwise. ‘Stop...’

His mouth finally reaches the tip, and after two languid licks, he holds it between his lips and sucks, then tries to take as much of it into his mouth as possible.   ‘Oh, gods...! Astarion, what are you...?’

The elf begins to move his head up and down, as his hand sneaks under Tav's trousers, admitting a laugh-like cry when he feels their underwear wet. And Astarion's own cock begs to be released, as he begins to soak his trousers. Soon he stands up, abandoning his tail and lowering his trousers. ‘Get undressed,’ he begs them. ‘I need you now.’

After they both get naked, Astarion starts kissing Tav's neck, inevitably ending up biting and sucking some blood. ‘Mh, you look delicious tonight, my dear.’

‘Thank you.’ Their hand plays with his hair. ‘I really enjoyed that. I didn't think you could do something like that...’

As he licks the two tiny holes to make them heal, his hands return to the Tiefling's thighs. ‘...That's not the only thing I plan to do tonight.’

‘Oh, yeah? And tell me, what goes through that well-literate mind?' they tease him, pushing so that the thief's dexterous fingers can suppress the desire that is driving them out of their minds.

‘Do you remember when you told me that you would like to do what you desired with me? That night when you got drunk and were terribly, incredibly horny and sexy, but we couldn't do anything because we all had to sleep in a shit room?’

‘Yes.’



‘Then do whatever you want with me, but under one rule. You will have to use only your tail, my dear.’

Tav turns their head, raising an eyebrow, but without interrupting that pleasurable touch between his legs, his eyes full of desire. ‘Are you sure? I don't want you to make you...’

‘I'm asking you,’ he reassures them, kissing them on the forehead. ‘I'm comfortable with it, because it's something I've never done or tried. It's undiscovered territory, just ours.’ In spite of the burning desire, there is an infinite thoughtfulness and gentleness in his eyes and voice. ‘I'm yours.’

The tiefling turns completely back, kissing him. Through the tadpole, they feel a strong curiosity from Astarion, curiosity that - surprisingly - they have as well.

‘Do you really like my tail that much? It's so ugly. Karlach's one is much more beautiful." They stroke their own tail, analysing the humid tip. 

‘But it's not yours. And then yes, I find it dreadfully gorgeous... and arousing,’ he confesses, lying down on the pillows. They lie on him, caressing his face. The long tail strokes his testicles, then the length of his cock. 

‘Mmmh...’

‘Do you like it like that?’ they ask, as the tail makes one, two, three laps around Astarion's manhood. ‘Tell me if I'm tightening too much.’

Astarion gasps, gripping to the velvet underneath him. ‘D-don't stop. And hold tighter.’

The tiefling begins to wiggle their tail, tightening.. It's not exactly a piece of cake, but keeping it hidden all the time has led them to train it and execute precise movements. The vampire trembles, arches his back in an attempt to accompany the motion; his thrusts begin to become imprecise, words disjointed, eyes glazed over.

‘I want you inside. With the tail. Please!’ His tone is desperate, barely enough breath in his lungs to speak. Tav releases him, noticing how red the tip is.  ‘Did I squeeze you that hard? Does it hurt?’ they ask, concerned. 

‘N-not at all,’ he babbles, covering his face with his hand, his cheeks red with blood and growing excitement, as he spreads his legs apart. Tav makes to approach his cock and take it in their mouth, but he stops him. ‘P-please... just the tail, now! I can't take it much longer.’

A smile paints their faces as they lie on top of him, one hand holding the tip of the tail in front of his entrance. Astarion's beads of arousal had been so copious that they descended to his asshole, which allows Tav to insert the tip without difficulty. The vampire groans, eyes wide with astonishment as the tail slides deeper and deeper, opening him up, filling him. It moves up and down, but also sideways, forming an "s". He bares his fangs, clawing at the pillows, breathing heavily. Tav watches him, a hint of pride in their chest at knowing that the part they had so rejected now makes both feel good. 

‘On your hands and knees’ they order, taking Astarion by the hips and flipping him over. The elf leans on his elbows and knees as Tav resumes penetrating him. The tail fills him, until it hits his most sensitive spot, moving left, right, spinning. 

‘Shit!’ he screams, collapsing, but Tav holds his bottom up and stands up, spreading his legs apart. ‘That's it, enjoy it, my love.’

This is too much for the poor thief. He comes suddenly, with long, white streams hitting the pillows, carpets and floor. Tav rides his orgasm, until Astarion is breathless.

‘That was... incredible,’ he gasps, trying to recover, but his legs don't respond. His body still shudders, just as his cock continues to release little pearls of pleasure. ‘I hope you've changed your mind about your tail.’

Tav smiles, stroking his back. ‘Yeah, I think I have.’

Remember that trauma is not forever. I happened to read about using kinks to overcome PTSD, and I thought that was fitting for Astarion. As a SA survivor, it's important to me to use this fanfiction both for fun and to leave a positive message when I can. Pain and suffering do not last forever. <3

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Fourteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

no tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen

AO3 Link

Author's Notes: Back from hiatus on April 26th! (Chapter 16 is just about polished and I finally made progress for chapter 17). I'm sending huge, huge thank you to my beloved beta and co-pilot, @vampire-exgirlfriend for all her love and support and kindness. There's been a lot of times that I've thought about stopping, about not continuing this story, about maybe just keeping it to myself. It's been her love and very aggressive 'that is DUMB' affection that has brought us close to the end of Arc I.

And a huge thank you to the people who have liked this story. I genuinely would love LOVE LOVE to hear your thoughts. In inbox is open, reblog and tag me, however you want to let me know that you're here <3

we are now entering the 'oh my god these too are so fucking into each other they want to fuck so bad it makes them look stupid' era

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Love the World Like I Should

Grandfather Rodrik shows up with love and gifts, and there's some smooching on the dance floor at Aegon's nameday feast. Also some political anxiety.

King’s Landing was filled to bursting in the days approaching Aegon’s nameday celebrations. Never had Abby seen so many people crush themselves into the Red Keep. ‘More will be at Harrenhal for the wedding’, Helaena had said, their small group seeking solace away from the gaggle of the court for a while. Baela had come with them, overwhelmed with the crush of noise herself, even if she did not admit it. The Princesses Targaryen, Abby, Wylla, little Floris, and Baela’s two ladies had all sought the quietest part of the gardens to hide from the increasingly aggressive attentions.

Now, though, Abby could not hide from the crush of people.

The Reyne retinue arrived in the early afternoon, and while an ancient and powerful house as theirs deserved their pomp, the familial presentation was for Rodrik Reyne, uncle to the Queen Alicent Hightower, and grandfather to the future Princess Abrogail Strong.

Grandfather to the potential future queen, as the whispers and rumors flew around the Red Keep with the coming celebrations. Rumors that Abby wasn’t sure would come to pass, but could not deny that the king’s wishes still might change. That was a future she wasn’t sure what to think about.

His hair was more gray than auburn, thick and wavy as if he were a man of twenty instead of near seventy. Lord Rodrik was tall and broad, an imposing figure on his gray and white courser, its fine white mane braided into little knots along the elegant arch of its neck. To see him and the king that was only feet away from her had a curl of unease snaking through her belly. To look at the king was to see a man wasting away, a man at death’s door. To see Rodrik Reyne dismount with fluid ease was to see a man who, while past the prime of life, clearly had so much left in him.

“Your Grace.” Lord Rodrik mounted the steps, arm clapped to his shoulder in the Westerland sign of fealty as he bowed. “It is good to see you in fine spirits, my king.”

“No finer time than to celebrate such a joyous occasion, Lord Rodrik,” the king said with a smile. Rodrik clasped Uncle Otto’s arm in a firm grip, pleasantries exchanged and his smile broadened as he bowed lower before Queen Alicent.

“You are the light of the seven, aren’t you, my dearest,” he complimented her, genuine to the core. The queen’s cheeks pinkened at the praise and she readily embraced her uncle, fingers grasping his arms.

“We are so glad you are here to celebrate, uncle,” she said. “I am pleased to see you in such fine health and I’m so sorry Aunt Dalla could not come.”

“It is a long journey and she is not as quick as she used to be. She was quite happy to stay back with Daerion and enjoy the children. I am their favorite, after all. It’s only fair that I give everyone else the opportunity to receive some attention.” Alicent blinked as she registered the joke, a chuckle spilling from her as her uncle pressed a kiss to her hand.

Aegon stood between his mother and Abby, and she felt more than saw him straighten up as Lord Rodrik turned his cool blue eyes on him. Age had not shrunk the man, and Lord Rodrik stood as tall as Uncle Otto, and though there was a far less threatening air to him, it made him no less intimidating. Aegon’s chin tilted up to meet the man’s eye and he inclined his head.

“It is good to see you, Lord Rodrik,” Aegon greeted, his voice polite and steady, when not two hours before, he’d been with her in the alcove behind the tapestry of Jonquil Drake frantic with nerves at meeting her grandfather. It seemed like the kisses she’d given him, as well as the growing bruise that was barely visible above the collar of his deep green damask doublet had not eased his worries. “I hope your travels were easy and without issue.”

The last time they’d seen any of the Reynes had been near a decade ago, at her mother’s funeral. They had spent time with her and her father at Harrenhal before coming down to King’s Landing to spend time with the queen and her children, and that event was entirely different than now.

“Good tidings on your nameday, nephew,” he returned with all the formality as if he were addressing him by princely title. “Our travels were well, and it’ll be good to be off the road for some time.” An expression of mischief danced in the pale gray-blue eyes of Rodrik as he assessed the prince before him, eyes catching on the bruise on Aegon’s neck and then glancing at Abby and the arm she had laced through his own. He raised a brow. “It would appear that your betrothal has made a man of you yet, my prince. I might even say you’ve grown an inch or two since I last saw you.”

Heat flushed through Abby’s face and Aegon’s own, his sputter brief and confused as the Lord gave him an amused look, as if he might ruffle his hair had Aegon been a decade younger. Instead, he gave another incline of his head before coming before Abby.

“You are most certainly taller than I last saw you,” he said, cupping her face in his gloved hands, the scent of horse and spice clinging to him as he kissed her forehead. Her hand slipped from Aegon’s arm to clutch at her grandfather’s crimson sleeves beneath his brown leather jerkin, warmth spreading through her chest at the gentle affection.

“Not much taller than this, I’m afraid,” she said, a light, awkward laugh. Her grandfather reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, where the rest of her hair hung in a long, simple braid down to the small of her back. He cupped her cheek, and she caught a shine in his eyes, a slow exhale as the familiar look of grief she knew well crossed his features, aging him in the moment. “I’m very glad to see you, grandfather.”

Rodrik Reyne nodded, pushing past the emotion before moving on to greet the rest of his nephews and niece, and she felt Aegon’s hand slide around her waist, fingers bunching slightly against the crimson and silver damask against her hip. She hid her hands in the belled sleeves, knotting them together and taking comfort from Aegon’s touch. Her chest ached painfully but she gave him a smile when he murmured her name.

“I am well,” she assured him, leaning into him momentarily before their party went inside, her grandfather speaking of the gifts he had brought for all of them.

Over the past days, it had been a bustle and flurry of becoming reacquainted with her grandfather, of suffering through her sister’s company. The apartments that she technically shared with her brother had served as the hub for the activity of their family. Houses Strong, Reyne, and Lannister moved in and out of the modestly decorated space. It had been overwhelming, but with the arrival of her grandfather, Cory’s acerbic tongue and judgmental looks had been averted, and Abby wondered if there was jealousy hidden beneath all that venom. She had fallen into her own acquaintance with the Queen, whom she had known when she’d served as one of Rhaenyra’s ladies when they were young.

Abby also had to organize the gifts brought from the Westerlands that would be sent back with Uncle Simon. Bolts of fine cloth of gold and silver from the expansive Reyne mines, a peregrine falcon, lovely cream and gray with black specks and bright black eyes she’d named Caelus. There’d been books too. A small chest carved with mountains and flowers contained five books, mostly from Myr, and some from Braavos, including what looked to be an interesting treatise from a Volantine woman who advocated for the importance of women’s contributions, and another on teaching woman to cultivate what she had determined as useful qualities, to achieve worthy acts in their lives.

‘A woman’s success,’ it read, ‘depends on the ability to manage and mediate by speaking and writing eloquently and effectively, for men so easily dismiss the thoughts of women, especially when their power is threatened by them.’

Perhaps she should look to promoting more copies of the sumptuously illustrated work. Perhaps she might even try her hand at replicating some of the images therein. There’s been a box of paints and new charcoal among the gifts, as well as a newly bound book for her to sketch in. Abby smiled at the idea, and had tucked it away for later.

“Mind the dress,” Wylla’s voice came from behind, already dressed for the feast and bossing about the red-clad maids of the holdfast who had been helping Abby as she worked to put together her household. Theraxis lay reclined along the end of the bed, his great yellow eyes watching the flurry of maids with such focus as if he too were supporting Wylla’s orders.

“Only a single lady?” Grandfather had balked, perceiving insult before she’d hurriedly cut in, explaining Wylla was more than enough, she did not want to be demanding, and hadn’t needed anyone else.

Wylla had snorted, eyes flashing in the familiar argument. “She’s meant to be looking for more ladies over the course of the festivities,” with all the same annoyance aimed at her as she had aimed at Aegon in the courtyard so long ago. “She needs six at least, but will she listen to me? Nay, she’s a wee stubborn thing and Lord Larys doesn’t seem to push it either.”

The gifts had not stopped there, and she was currently staring, wide eyed, at the most recent one.

The ornate wooden box before her was made of varnished rosewood, with inlays of silver decoration along the edges, and an equally delicate lock that her grandfather had carefully opened with a tiny silver key. The tiara that lay inside was fit for a queen. Ten citrine sunbursts wove together like flowers, the colors of them running from red to gold to orange and in the center of each, diamonds glittered. It sat in the center of the box, resting on a cloth of silver pillow and her mouth went dry.

“Th-this is too much. Grandfather…” Abby’s voice faltered and she lifted her gaze to meet his. Never had she felt so spoiled, so doted on. She felt guilt for it, the way it warred in confusing uncertainty. So long she had never asked for more, and it wasn’t as if Larys was a doting brother who snuck her sweets and trinkets the way Harwin had.

Her grandfather’s gaze was a mixture of annoyance, affection, and more that she did not understand. “It is most certainly not too much, dear child,” he said with a casual wave of his hand. Wylla slightly raised her eyebrows when he wasn’t looking and gently lifted the tiara from the box. “You are the blood of Castamere. You are my blood, my granddaughter,” he had said, cupping her cheek in a warm, rough hand and pressing a loving kiss to her brow. “The realm would do well to remember that you are a Reyne just as the queen is. It is not simply Hightower blood no matter how much my good brother likes to pretend.”

At least her grandfather was honest and she could not blame him for that. This was how the game was played. This was how power was brokered, even Abby understood the simple truth of it. Unlike most, Rodrik Reyne did not hide his motives, and the care that he expressed towards her since his arrival a few days ago had proven genuine. He did not ask her for favors, had inquired about her wellbeing and made sure she had what she was owed to her station.

Wylla’s nimble fingers had ensured the tiara was settled in her hair, twists of braids securing the citrine that matched her hair. The Riverlands style was one that she was glad not to give up and she would not have anyone thinking she was anything but the daughter of the rivers, and now a child of Castamere.

Her grandfather had escorted her down to the queen’s party. The king and her brother and uncle were already in the throne room and she could hear and feel the buzzing of growing anticipation as they approached the antechamber. Her hand rested in the crook of her grandfather’s elbow and her fingers spasmed with nerves. His hand found hers and she looked up at him, mouth parted as if to speak. He smiled at her instead.

“You look so much like your mother,” he said softly, his blue eyes misty and his smile warm. It took Abby aback. She had not seen the Lord Hand smile so openly and honestly. Larys barely smiled and when he did it made her wish to avoid it more often than not. The last man who smiled at her in such openness was her father. “She is here with us and she would be so proud of you.”

“Would she approve of this?” Abby asked softly. It was a silly question, the kind of question a motherless child who could barely remember her own mother asked. She could see the queen through the doorway at the end of the hall, hear Helaena’s laughter echoing along with Daeron’s.

Her grandfather paused and seemed to steel himself. The emotion was plain on his face. The grief was palpable and he did not meet her eyes as he composed himself. “Your mother was in the very fortunate position where I could let her choose who she wanted to marry. She could wait, and find a match that she got along well with. Lord Jason was a possibility, but even if your mother wanted to marry him, I couldn’t let her resign her future to a foppish imbecile like him, Lannister seat or not. She fell in love with your father and he did not demand heirs of her or money or prestige. He simply wanted someone to spend his days with and they found that in one another. That is what your mother wanted for you. A world where you were safe and loved.”

He cupped her cheek and Abby lifted her hand to hold his, feeling her own tears threaten. “The future has one certainty and there will be hard choices to make. Know that your family stands behind you, and that you may be a Riverlands girl, but there is a lion inside of you. They say in the north wolf packs survive together. You are part of a pride and are just as fierce. Dragons could not take the Westerlands and fire cannot burn the rivers.”

“He won’t burn me,” Abby said softly. “I trust him. I… care for him. I want him, not for a title, not for whatever the future may bring. I simply want him and he wants me and we just want to be happy. I think we can make each other happy, Grandfather.”

“Good,” he said and dropped his hand. “Then should the Stranger take me this night, it will be knowing you will be happy.” He gave her a watery laugh, amusement on his face. “And should he mistreat you, then I will haunt him to madness.”

When they entered the antechamber, Lord Rodrik pressed a kiss to her hand and went to join the rest of the gathering in the throne room. Helaena was in conversation with Daeron, and Aegon…

Aegon turned to look at her upon her entrance and his face went slack. She blushed, smoothing her hands over her gown, watching as the candlelight shimmered over the green and blue layers of the skirt, the fabric diaphanous, like currents of water around her legs. Her fingers found the golden dragons embroidered over her waist, intermingling with the glittering red weirwood leaves, worrying at the material. Her slippers were as gold as the dragons on her bodice, peaking out beneath her hem as she closed the distance between them. Aegon reached for her and she slid her hand into his and watched the smile spread slowly across his face.

‘I think we can make each other happy.’

Abby was not meant to be on Aegon’s arm as they entered the feast. He should have been escorting his mother as protocol dictated since King Viserys had entered the feast already. It was a heady feeling to know Aegon would not let her go, even as he was forced to drop her hand so she could tuck hers into the crook of his arm. A thrill that continued down her spine and coiled in her belly with the rest of the bursting butterflies dancing inside that gave her the strength to tilt her chin up as all her lessons instructed her to do. The perfect posture, the perfect gait all came rushing to her in a way that she finally understood why it mattered.

The pride that she felt wasn’t about being Queen Alicent’s pet project, or even that she had somehow snagged a prince for a betrothed. She was Lady Abrogail, heir to Harrenhal, the legacy of her mother’s fierceness and her father’s wisdom. As they walked behind the queen and Lord Otto, Abby squeezed her hand along Aegon’s bicep. She was the daughter of the Riverlands, and Aegon was lucky to have her, for there were many others that she could be with.

He looked at her with clear and bright eyes, the lilac full of mirth in a way she hadn’t seen from him in so long, and there were broad smile lines around his mouth, the flash of white teeth as he grinned at her. His hair was freshly washed, the silver curls gleaming gold in the sea of candleglow. His doublet was new as well - a fine, black silk brocade with a pattern woven in that evoked a shimmer of dragon scales. Golden clasps in the shape of dragon heads gleamed down the center. The seams were piped with red silk, and red silk trim embroidered with golden dragons wrapped around from the center and over his back. The same embroidered trim encircled his sleeves, which were slashed open along the back of his arms from bicep to the buttoned cuffs, the Targaryen red brocade of his shirt beneath poking through.

For the first time, he wore a crown upon his brow. It was a hammered circlet of gold that rested gently around his head, interspersed with seven circles stamped with dragons. Before the realm, he truly looked like the prince that he was.

A son who was celebrated by his parents.

She was lucky to have him. Let them see it. Let Queen Alicent see how brightly they made one another smile when they got to choose one another. Let them see she was not beholden to The High Tower, or to the Targaryens, or to anyone. Let them see that for all they may want to whisper about machinations and intrigue, she wanted him, and he wanted her.

Abby curtsied deeply before the king before they took their seats. Aegon was on his father’s left hand - the place of honor for the evening, and she was beside him. ‘How lucky we are’, came the thought again. She had not realized she had spoken the words aloud until Aegon’s grin widened into a beaming smile, his eyes crinkling with his own joy.

This was how the past weeks should have been. This is what the welcoming feast to Lord Tully and his party should have showcased: the two of them united, happy now, even as they set out to figure out what their marriage would be, what it would look like. There was enough time for that.

“You know, people like us don’t marry for love often,” Wylla had said, words that had stuck to her ribs.

The queen, her brother, and her uncle did not care for her and Aegon’s happiness, that much was startlingly clear to Abby. They had not come together in this betrothal by choice, but beneath the heart tree, they had made a promise. They had made their choice.

As her elder sister, Corynna, and her husband, Erwin Lannister sat beside her, Abby wished for the comfort of Wylla and Heleana at her side. The latter was at the other end of the table, and Abby’s gaze sought the friendly face of the young woman at the table below.

Wylla sat with Uncle Simon and Aunt Mya, looking striking in her black velvet gown. It was cut in the southern style, the neckline edged in white and silver cut across the line of her shoulders, her raven hair twisted into three rope braids woven with white ribbon and strung with pearls. She looked like a dream, Abby thought. A maiden of winter with all her pale skin and dark hair; striking in a way that many other women were not and Wylla wore it well. Harrion was beside her, his head inclined toward a lovely, red haired woman beside him. Wylla had said that his betrothed, Lady Alys Bracken, had only just arrived. She was so slight next to the northman’s bulk, her smile soft, eyes crinkling at the corners as she laughed at something he said.

Wylla caught her eye and sent her a warm, reassuring smile that Abby returned with a little wave, uncaring of decorum at the moment with how shaky her nerves were starting to get now that everyone was staring up at her. Her dear friend had not shied about her own discomfort in crowds, declaring her own relief that she was not the one who would be center of attention in her teasing, sharp yet fond way.

A harsh pinch against her left arm made Abby jump and she turned sharply to look at her sister, who was smiling serenely as if nothing was amiss. “Stop it, you’re behaving like a child,” she hissed behind a gritted smile. “I’ll not have you shame me.”

“If returning a kind gesture and a greeting to someone across the room is childish, then I cannot imagine you have many friends, Corynna, that do not cling to your skirts.” She smiled at her sister, whose saccharine falseness turned quickly to annoyance. “Do mind yourself, Cory. You are not my mother, nor my guardian.”

She caught the sidelong glance Aegon gave her and she felt his warm hand on hers, drawing it to his mouth to press a kiss against her knuckles. Abby felt the spray of heat along her throat, pressing her lips tightly together to keep from biting at her lip and being too obvious. He kept hold of her hand, thumb running lightly along her knuckles in familiar reassurance, and leaned in to speak softly against her ear.

“Lady Abrogail, if that’s the kind of behavior you plan on keeping up, as your husband, it shall be my duty to discipline you for such talk.”

Abby’s mouth went dry, her flush deepening and she glanced up at him, demure beneath her lashes. “Prince Aegon, you get ahead of yourself. I am the image of propriety.” He smirked and they both drew back. Abby reached for her goblet to calm the different sort of butterflies fluttering through her stomach now.

The echo of a staff cracking against the stone floor of the hall reverberated through the hall and all fell silent as the king rose, the queen beside him in what was meant to be a show of unity. But Abby knew that she was there to steady him so he did not have to rely on his cane. The black, red, and gold robe he wore nearly swallowed him whole, and she wondered how heavy it was for him.

Beside him, Alicent Hightower wore the colors of her house instead of a glow of green. She was as regal as Abby had ever seen, in a storm gray damask gown with white flame embroidery along her neck and shoulders. A cape of gray silk felt about her and the gray sleeves of her gown hugged her arms until they flared out at her forearms to bell around her wrists. Her auburn hair was twisted back on the sides of her head before coming to a single twisted braid down her back. Upon her head rested her crown of state. It was a gold circlet with seven points of golden flame rising from it and in the center flame was a blood red ruby that matched the gold and ruby earrings dangling beneath her hair.

“Be welcome,” the king said. His voice had rarely been a strong one, but he had found the strength behind it to let the words carry now. “It is good to see so many happy faces here, as we come together to celebrate my son, Prince Aegon’s nameday.” He turned his head to look down at Aegon with a nod and a gap toothed smile that, while fleeting, was genuine. The people clapped, thumps on tables shaking the cutlery, and Abby grinned at him. Aegon looked taken aback by the well tidings, the shouts of wishes for good health and good fortune. The hand that he had rested on her knee tightened and Aegon straightened in his seat, smiling back and giving a wave of thanks as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him.

The King continued, “The Queen and I also honor House Strong this night. Since my ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, landed upon these shores, the Strongs have been a leal and loyal house. Ser Osmund Strong himself was the longest serving Hand, and through the decades, this family has proved themselves time and again, their fealty to the throne and their dedication to the realm. It is why upon the passing of the beloved Princess Rhaena, that my grandfather, King Jaehaerys, bestowed the great Harrenhal to House Strong. It is this dedication that before he passed, our late Lord Lyonel Strong, the Seven keep him, agreed to a proposal. We welcome you all to celebrate with House Targaryen and House Strong as I announce the betrothal of our son, Prince Aegon, to the Lady Abrogail Strong, and their investiture as the future Lord and Lady of Harrenhal, under the wise and clement eye of Grover Tully, Lord Paramount of the Riverlands.”

The whispers of the betrothal had already snaked their way through the keep over the past weeks. First the servants gossip, then the unofficial talks among the lords who had, by now, sent ravens back home to their holdings in the Riverlands. It was news that had passed naturally among the realm, and while Abby did not see any surprised faces, the cheers that roared up took her by surprise. The slamming fists on the tables, the clapping, the shouts of well wishes and even some crass remarks was not at all what she had expected. She felt her cheeks burn and the flush of it snake across all the exposed skin of her gown. She yearned for the coverings of her linen gowns so none could see how red she had turned at the attention.

Yet, Abby did nothing to hide how large her smile was, so wide it nearly hurt. She met Aegon’s eyes, his own grin crinkling the corners of his eyes, and she never, ever wanted to see him frown again if this was how bright his smile could be. He then looked at the crowd and she followed suit, waving at the smiling faces, blowing a kiss of thanks to all. She did not startle when Aegon lifted his hand from her knee to tuck beneath the fall of her curls and rest along the back of her neck in a possessive gesture that made her belly roil with heat. She looked at him from the corner of her eye and saw that his bright smile had set into something darker, more firm.

The feast began, servants coming out of the shadows. Trenchers of roast pork in red wine and plum sauce were placed before them, steaming with scents of ginger and cinnamon. Shrimp cooked in fennel and white wine steamed from large platters, boiled eggs cut and stuffed with fragrant cheese and herbs nestled among salads of other fresh herbs and greens. Abby gasped, admiring the hollowed out Stormland lemons with glistening pieces of Dornish blood oranges and lemon sticky with sugar dotted the table in pops of bright, delectable color.

Aegon was eagerly filling his plate with the roast pork he so adored, and she reached for one of the sour orange treats, popping a sticky piece of fruit into her mouth and hoping it calmed the knot of nerves that were growing insistently.

“They certainly spared no expense,” Corynna’s voice was soft at her side. Abby glanced over at her sister who was commenting on the wine being poured to her husband. Her sister was as beautiful as she was sharp, resplendent in the colors of House Lannister, a ruby red gown that set off her golden skin, and an overdress of golden silk. Her brunette curls were tamed and pulled back into a low bun at the base of her neck, encased in a jeweled net of gold and rubies, a heavy lion pendant hanging from her throat. She decided not to engage with her sister’s low commentary, for it was exactly what she wanted, and instead busied herself on the treat in front of her.

“Here.” Abby glanced at Aegon, who held his fork up with a piece of pork. She opened her mouth to decline, and he popped the piece in with that dangerous smirk flashing across his mouth before going back to his food. It was good, the spark of ginger cutting through the sweetness of the plum. It had also served to get her mind off the fact that they were eating at the head table, and she let her gaze drift, ignoring her sister’s tut of disapproval.

Abby caught Baela looking at them curiously. She was beautiful that evening in the colors of her mother’s house. The aquamarine gown was cut in the Pentoshi style like the previous one she wore to their family dinner, with a deep v cut into the bodice and the layers of fabric pinned like a chiton at her shoulders. On her head she wore a silver tiara shaped into the heads of seahorses with matching gemstones for their eyes. Abby gave the princess a small smile. “You look lovely tonight, Princess. I am truly glad to have you here and I look forward to us getting to know one another.”

Baela’s violet eyes narrowed somewhat at being addressed, and Abby felt Aegon shift beside her as he honed in on the conversation. “May your futures be bright and happy, Lady Abrogail. Cousin.”

“Thank you, cousin,” Aegon replied with his tight smile. “Perhaps it will be your nuptials we’ll be celebrating next.” The words were friendly, at least somewhat so. Abby suppressed a sigh, but knew it was at least a small win. Baela did not seem to mind sitting next to Daeron, for the pair of them had fallen into a discussion about their dragons and how Tessarion had fared in Oldtown. “I heard Mother wondering if her and Jace will wed next.”

Jacaerys.

Abby chanced another look at the incredibly awkward end of the table. There was the queen, then Lord Otto, then Larys, and then… Aemond, Helaena, and Jace. The three of them were utterly silent, like mimes in a play, and it was hard to tell what made it worse: the fact that Aemond and Jace had ended up wearing near matching doublets that evening, or the sapphire sun that was Helaena between them.

Aemond and Jace and Baela should have been separated, but Jace could not sit next to her, for the rumors that would cause and so poor Helaena was stuck as the wall to separate them.

She looked every inch the beautiful princess from a song. Her silver hair hung loose and free down her back with four braids keeping her hair from her face. The twists wound themselves into the silver tiara she wore, the sapphires winking out like stars from the woven metal strands that took the place of her usual braid. Her gown was diaphanous silk, her shoulders bared. The sleeves were a light blue and the sheer fabric hugged her arms. The gown went from a lovely sky blue to a deeper shade of twilight along the hem, and the silver embroidery evoked silver flames dancing across the gown. She wore the colors of Dreamfyre, dragonrider that she was, the princess of House Targaryen that did not need to evoke her house colors to state her place in the world.

The look on her face was blank and somewhat wide-eyed, focused on the shrimp in front of her. Abby’s heart ached, wanting to go to her and get her out of the situation she was in, but there was nothing for it. Helaena already grew anxious with crowds and she didn’t need the extra stress of being caught between two petulant looking boys.

Jace tilted his head towards her, saying something that drew a small smile from Helaena, and the knot of worry eased slightly.

The course was cleared away, the minstrels along the side gallery merrily playing songs from each of the realms present there today. Currently it was a Westerlands tune, fewer drums than the melodies of the Crownlands, and Abby caught Lord Tyland’s head bobbing to the music from his place at his twin brother’s side.

The next course was brought out and it was the largest pie Abby had ever seen, along with pottage of wild hare and cabbage, roasted lamb smelling of caraway and fennel and thyme. There was roasted chicken in orange glaze. Her gaze returned to the pie. It was as big as a wagon wheel, the pastry crust browned and caramelized and surrounded by many smaller pies like a crown. The crusts were slivered all around and gilt in gold along the top, and she could smell the saffron and cloves. They were stuffed to the bursting with more eggs and mixed meats and smelled delicious, but Abby’s stomach was knotted with nerves combined with the heady twist of arousal that pulsed every time Aegon’s knee bumped hers, or the way he’d tap his fingers upon her wrist to make sure she was alright.

Aegon inclined his head towards her, waving the servant away and pushing his plate between them. “You’re not eating. We’ll share.” He even pressed his goblet into her hand, taking hers and sipping from it in such an intimate gesture that Abby’s nerves were utterly forgotten about in that moment. She took a sip from his goblet, unsure of what to say. Aegon raised an eyebrow at her. “Eat,” he ordered and she knocked her slippered foot against his boot.

“You’re eating enough for the both of us, Prince. I couldn’t possibly keep up with you.” His appetite was a voracious one, and the plate he’d pushed between them had already started inching back towards him. She stabbed a piece of meat and gave him a look as she ate. He looked only somewhat abashed and popped a piece of crust in his mouth, licking juice from his fingers. She was reminded of the lakeside picnic, and the way his lips felt against her fingers while she fed him, the blushing heat as he fed her cakes in return and the kisses shared.

It must have shown on her face because a wicked gleam flashed across his eyes, gaze drifting to the low neckline of her gown and the gentle swell of her breasts. A voracious appetite indeed. He laughed when she busied herself with her goblet.

“Everyone is staring,” she whispered, unsure if she was chastising him or reminding him. Aegon’s gaze raked along the bare expanse of her shoulders, his hand twitching along his stolen goblet as if he was keeping himself from reaching for her again.

“Of course they are, hunītsos. Let them. Let them see how happy you look.” His gaze grew uncertain for a moment and she understood what words he held back.

“How happy you make me,” she offered softly. It was finally Aegon’s turn to blush, the expression uncharacteristically shy, and Abby could not help but lean over to brush a soft kiss against his cheek. Satisfaction was bright in her chest when his blush deepened before his own satisfaction crossed his features.

Let them witness. Let Edmund Vance and whatever moody River Lord conspired against them see that Aegon was hers, claimed by the rivers.

“Prince Aegon,” Erwin called halfway through the following course - mutton and stag and boar drenched in plum and wine sauces, brown sauces, and surrounded with dates and figs. The youngest Lannister brother was a gleaming gold lion, square faced with bright green eyes. He was not lanky as Lord Tyland nor as haughty as Lord Jason. He was a third son, bred for battle, and while he did not appear to cross swords with her sister, Abby wondered if that was a battle he had no desire to engage in. “I hear you’ll be participating in the melee on the morrow. Do you wield a morning star like Ser Criston, then? Or perhaps a battle ax?”

Corynna tutted, leaning back with exaggeration so her husband might speak. “It was only a matter of time before we talked swords.”

“The Prince is admirable with his sword skills, Erwin,” Abby piped up proudly before Aegon could speak, her turn to boast of him as he had done for her.

Aegon’s hand rested along the back of her chair as he leaned over with a grin on his face. “Some could say. It’ll either come down to skill or my lady’s favor, should she grant me. Mayhaps I’ll have the good fortune of meeting you in the ring?”

“Everyone knows the joust is where one proves themselves,” Baela cut in.

“Prince Daemon was quite impressive with his blade in the last tourney I saw him in, just as he was with a lance,” Erwin said with ease and a smile. “All the bouts require their own skills and strength.”

The conversation of the small tourney for tomorrow kept on, with Daeron joining in. Abby ignored her sister’s displeased muttering and her husband did as well. Perhaps that’s how the peace was kept in their household.

As the dessert course came out, those in attendance began to move about the room. No doubt they were eager to speak of the confirmation of what had been announced, judging by all the gazes that flitted in their direction. There were her favorite strawberry and cream cakes just out of reach, but she found that she had no appetite for the rich confection with the nervous energy building. Instead, she snagged a piece of marchpane dragon off Aegon’s piled plate of treats. He playfully snapped at her as if he was going to bite at her hand before handing her a marchpane crown without comment.

She leaned towards Aegon, brushing his ear and delighting in how he shivered at the contact. Her fingers tapped against his arm. “I’m going to speak to Wylla.”

He reached up to snatch at her wrist. “Stay,” he murmured, eyes searching her face. Don’t leave me alone next to him, she knew he was asking. Abby shook her head.

“We have to mingle, Aeg, We can’t sit up here all night.” He rolled his eyes and Abby tutted. “Go rescue Helaena.”

Aegon glanced down at the miserable end of the table and they spied Gwayne having come up, a hand braced on Aemond’s shoulder as he spoke to Larys and his father. “I’m surprised Aemond hasn’t stabbed him yet,” Aegon muttered and gave a nod. “Is this to be our duty now, my lady?”

Abby scrunched her face up in amusement and took his offered hand to rise from her chair. “Aye, it shall be, my lord. Save me a dance.” He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and they parted, Aegon going to join his uncle and siblings at the end of the table. She tilted her head, admiring him as he walked from her before heading towards Baela.

When Abby looked at Baela, she was reminded by the statue of Visenya that Aemond favored so in the gardens, or the tapestries that hung in the upper levels of the gallery: women who rode the skies with braids twisted into their long hair, the fierce and determined looks on their faces showing their command of the world. Targaryens were the closest one came to gods in Westeros. This fact Abby had grown with all her life. Everyone in Westeros did. She saw how the smallfolk clamored for the affections and attentions of the dragonriders during parades, the furrowed brows of the septons who disliked the competition to the Seven.

“Princess,” Abby gave the other a bright, welcoming smile. “Come with me, I have someone to properly introduce you to.” There was deference in her tone that Baela was owed, but Abby also clung to the reminder that she was to be a princess too. They would be equals in a few months, and the Queen wanted her to grow accustomed to this fact.

Baela, her lovely, violet eyes narrowed in her direction, seemed to have other ideas. Abby had asked Helaena the other evening what it was that Baela had said in Valyrian, and the princess had only said that she should not worry, for she did not believe Baela would speak so carelessly in the future. The other woman held her gaze, assessing in the way Abby was sure her dragon, Moondancer, would assess and Abby swallowed past the lump of nerves beneath the gaze. She realized after a moment that it was one of uncertainty. It had initially felt hostile - which considering whatever Valyrian she’d spoken upon arrival had been clearly hostile, it made sense - but it had also become clear that the princess was uncomfortable and therefore more judgemental, Abby thought, than she might normally be. At least, Abby hoped that was the case.

“You have people to introduce me to, Lady Abrogail?” The disdain was not obvious, and Abby wondered if this was what it meant to be unaccepted by the Valyrians. The family had kept to themselves since the landing. She had studied the Targaryen family tree in her studies and knew how rarely they married out of the houses. ‘The blood of the dragon must remain pure’, was stated when they’d learned about the Doctrine of Exceptionalism that allowed the practice of incest, and outlawed the multiple wives that The Conqueror and King Maegor had taken.

Would Aegon have wanted multiple wives? Would he have wanted someone more Valyrian to make him feel closer to his heritage? The curious thought flitted through her mind, and Abby felt a stab of jealousy at the idea of such a scenario, along with an uncertainty she couldn’t quite identify, but similar to the feeling of otherness that she found herself experiencing among the company of the other Riverlanders.

“I do. I hope, very much so, that your time here in the capital will be as comfortable as possible. I understand that it must be quite the change from Dragonstone, and the company of the rest of your siblings.” Baela said nothing at first, lips pressed in a thin line before looking down the table. Abby followed her gaze.

Jace and Helaena had a series of tarts and other confections in front of them, and Helaena was laughing brightly at the marchpane tentacles rising from a plum tart. Jace plucked one of them, slathered in cream to take a bite, offering the piece to Helaena who shook her head in amusement and reached for one of the candied lemons.

Aegon had pulled his brother away with a firm grip on his shoulder and the pair of them had headed towards the floor, goblets in hand with heads bowed towards each other. They were accompanied by some of the other young men at court; the Fossoway boys, Ser Leo Costayne, brother to Lord Owen, and their cousin, Lyonel Hightower, heir to the Oldtown seat.

Ser Leo was the eldest at over twenty, his almond eyes from his mother’s Lyseni heritage striking with the silver hair of Valyria that spread across the empire. He had already earned the title of The Sea Lion, the West taking pride in their own fierce seafarer as House Velaryon did with The Sea Snake, Lord Corlys. Little Floris had found him handsome, blushing when her avid gaze had been pointed out by Helaena. Abby had found herself readily agreeing.

At four and ten, Lyonel was as tall as Aemond with the promise to be taller, with the same cut cheekbones Abby could see was a Hightower feature, while Alicent, Aegon, and Helaena shared the soft roundness of their Reyne mother. His skin was swarthy from his Dondarrion mother, a contrast with his lighter brown hair. Her eyes drifted to the group of ladies, colors of the Reach and Westerlands in their clothes, and how they clearly were eyeing Prince Aemond, who was doing his best to pretend to be above it.

Far better for their attention than that of Cassandra Baratheon, who was stoically sitting by her heavy set father, face flushed with wine and quietly hissing at his eldest daughter. An unbidden pang of sympathy pulsed through Abby’s heart at how unhappy the other woman looked, momentarily overriding her displeasure.

Abby turned her gaze back to Baela, whose own eyes were sweeping the mass of people before them. She wondered if the rumor was true of a possible betrothal between Jacaerys and Baela, the future king and queen of the realm. Dragonriders both, in the Targaryen ways of old like Aegon and his wives, like King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne. She wondered if it had happened already and was simply unannounced, Rhaenyra waiting for the most opportune moment. Or perhaps the pair were simply siblings, mayhaps promises made out of stubborn pride. Would that explain Baela’s disdain for them? Did she see them as interlopers in a place that she considered her birthright by conquest and the Valyrian blood flowing through her?

Baela finally rose, fluid and graceful and confident in all the ways that Abby still found it difficult to be. The other woman stood a few inches taller - not a difficult feat by any means, but Abby was envious of the graceful turn of her neck. She was reminded of the descriptions of Visenya: comfortable in silks as she was in armor. What a sight the other would make upon dragonback with a war cry tearing from her. How confident Baela Targaryen was;in her sense of self, her place in the world, in all that made her Valyrian.

It struck Abby then how she did not feel like a child of the Riverlands no matter what she claimed. It felt as if she were spinning falsehoods into a cloak to shroud herself in, to distract from her own sense of confusion. As they approached the closer table where her Uncle Simon sat with the Brackens, listening to the conversation blend before her in the lilt and familiar cadence of the Riverlands, Abby found herself feeling like an outsider. It had not quite been like this at the welcoming feast those weeks ago, where they spoke the language of the capital. Her mother tongue had been one lost to her over the years since her father died, relegated to the dinner table and bedtime stories, of ephemeral memories of lullabies long sung. To hear Wylla’s own northern brogue share in the words of Old Tongue falling in a similar harmony, panic settled in Abby’s chest to find that she couldn’t quite keep up with the words exchanged.

The panic was frozen when Wylla turned her head, and all at the table gave move to rise and give their courtesies to Princess Baela. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby saw Baela shift a little, felt the whisper of silks brush against her. “This is Lady Wylla Karstark, from Karhold,” Abby introduced, her voice coming out higher than she intended as she forced past the lump in her throat. Wylla rose, nodding to her brother who was also getting up to speak with some of the other lords.

“Princess Baela, I hope you’re enjoying the festivities.”

Baela inclined her head but said nothing.

“She is my dearest friend and also far from home. Also quite the archer.” Abby reached for things that Baela might find intriguing and welcoming, hoping her instincts weren’t wrong.

Wylla shook her head slightly. “You are too kind, Lady,” she lightly teased with the use of the title.

Baela’s head cocked, the tinkling of the silver charms in her hair soft among the din of the room. “My, all that snow and ice. It’s a wonder you do not melt beneath the dragon’s heat,” Baela said and the challenge was clear in her voice.

Wylla smiled in her sharp way, ever the winter fox. “As a daughter of fire and sea, I would assume you to be well acquainted with contradictions. One must burn hot to survive the cold.”

Baela actually smiled at that and Abby took the chance. “Wylla is a far better archer than I, Princess. I hear you yourself are well acquainted with the bow.” Wylla’s storm gray eyes flitted to her and Abby did everything she could not to shift awkwardly beneath her friend’s gaze. Not in this dress, and not with the sunburst tiara that graced her head. Instead, she grinned back at her. The princess merely glanced back at her before shifting closer to Wylla.

“Do you hunt, Lady Wylla? I hear there’s to be a hunt later this week and I do so miss hawking…”

Abby released a soft breath, pressing a grateful squeeze to Wylla’s shoulder before moving on to her aunt and uncle. Her cousin, Gareth, had stayed behind at Harrenhal, and she had fuzzy memories of her Aunt Mya. The older woman was plump and warm, brushing a soft kiss with a greeting. The din of the throne room grew louder as the meal came to an end, servants dashing between the party goers, removing plates and replacing carafes of wine and small foods for guests to continue to indulge in. The music shifted to a more lively fair and the dance floor quickly filled with eager revelers.

Lythene Ryger of Willow Wood had drawn her into the shy gaggle of maidens who were standing expectantly along the edge of the dance floor, trading glances across the room at the lords and Abby had noticed the looks they’d thrown in Aemond’s direction. Lady Lythene was five and ten, soft featured with honey brown eyes, her strawberry blonde hair woven with strands of river pearls in the common half knot coil that was common in the Riverlands.

“If Lord Yorick were here, none of these men would have a chance to win tomorrow,” Melony Piper said, all dark hair and more freckles than one could count. “My sister says he was the most fearsome knight not so long ago.”

“Psh,” Lythene rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows Ser Gwayne is a force to be reckoned with. Besides, Lord Yorick never leaves Runestone and if he did, Lord Borros would throw a fit.” She looked smug with the knowledge imparted and whatever look on Abby’s face seemed to spur her on. She leaned in. “Lord Yorick is married to Lord Borros’ younger sister with a son of their own. Should Lady Elenda not have a son, it’s said his sister may push one of her son’s claims to Storm’s End.”

As one, their eyes swiveled in the direction of Cassandra Baratheon, perfectly coiffed, and everything the daughter of a Lord Paramount would be. Raven hair wild as storm clouds around her bare shoulders, her golden dress sparkling in the dancing torchlight with an opal the size of Abby’s fist nestled in the hollow of her throat. Abby’s hands twitched, smoothing over the cloud of blue and green silk organza, the golden dragons and weirwood leaves embroidered over her bodice.

A warm hand touched her wrist and Abby met the gentle, honey eyes of Lythene, who smiled up at her. “Tá cuma álainn ort, a bhean,” she said softly while the others tittered. It took Abby a moment to register the words, “you look beautiful, my lady”, and Abby smiled shyly.

“Go raibh maith agat,” she thanked her and Lythene bit her lip as if holding back a chuckle.

“Agat,” she pronounced softly, the inflection different. “A little closer to got, and less like goat.”

Her cheeks burned and she repeated it softly and Lythene took her hand, squeezing it. “I can’t imagine you get to practice with many people here in the South,” she laughed, a tinkling like bells that drew the attention of other men.

“I haven’t. I’m looking forward to getting to speak it more, but I can’t get that sort of practice teaching Aeg- Prince Aegon.”

“You mean he’s actually going to try learning our tongue?” came the aggressive disbelief of Lady Melony. “Targaryens aren’t ones to debase themselves so.”

Lythene opened her mouth but Abby cut in, a frown slashed across her face. “Aegon is a Targaryen and a Hightower, a family that traces their lineage and impact to before the First Men, some say.” She tilted her head, exhaling softly and shook her head. “The Targaryens may be above us due to the gifts of the dragon, but you can be assured that Prince Aegon will take his duties seriously.”

She was reminded of the words Edmund had sneered at her, of how none would trust a dragon coming into the Riverlands and it was foolish to think so. Lythene said nothing, watching her curiously while Melony Piper’s bright green eyes narrowed somewhat, thin mouth pursed. Abby’s grandmother had been a Piper, which made the two of them kin.

Seven and the Old Gods help her if Aegon did not live up to her promise, but Abby trusted that he would. That he would, at the very least, try.

Melony opened her mouth to speak again but murmurs danced through the crowd, attention towards the dance floor. Abby looked over her shoulder in surprise.

Jace led Helaena by the hand to the crowd of dancers as the next song started, fingers touching as they circled around one another. She was a glittering, blue dragon amidst the crowd, hair like mercury as it flowed around her. Helaena loved to dance and the joy was obvious on her soft features, Jace’s own smile a shy one, his broad frame more obvious as he circled around her. Not as tall as Aemond, but Jace would grow taller yet.

“Well,” Melony’s attention had changed. “That’s an interesting development.”

Abby’s eyes instinctively cut to the queen where she sat at the King’s right, a slight furrow to her brow, and the Lord Hand beside her, his attention also on the pair dancing. A fond smile cut across Otto Hightower’s face as Helaena laughed when Jace spun her, and Abby wasn’t at all sure what to make of it.

Helaena looked happy, though, and that was all that mattered.

Abby startled at the feeling of a warm hand stroking against her elbow and Aegon’s laughter was soft as he stroked his fingers down her arm in a way that had goosebumps flaring across her skin. His fingers twined with hers and the ladies around her bobbed curtsies, murmuring My Prince and Your Grace.

“You all look like you’re having so much fun here, but I must steal my betrothed away,” Aegon said, his voice light and amused, in his element as the center of attention and even more dangerous without drink to cloud his senses. Abby felt the heated flush creep along her throat when Aegon tugged her into him. “I promised you a dance, didn’t I, Lady Abrogail?”

Lythene looked amused, Melony uncertain and Abby turned under Aegon’s arm so that she was facing him. “You did, my Prince. Thank you for the conversation, Lady Lythene, Lady Melony,” she thanked as Aegon began tugging her away. “It was good to meet you.”

Everything else drifted away when Aegon pulled her into his arms. The contrast to the last time they’d danced together was palpable. There was no anger between them, no confusion, no fear. He twirled her as he drew her into the space as if he were showing her off, her skirt flaring around her, rippling greens and blues like the rivers of her home, the candlelight glimmering along the golden threaded dragons on her gown, and the citrine bursts along her tiara. When Aegon pulled her into him, she could feel the heat of his body barely pressed against her, the flush of it coursing through her with every hammering beat of her heart.

“I wish we were somewhere more quiet,” Abby murmured to him as they turned around one another, clapping their hands before reaching for each other again. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Aemond tugging Wylla on the floor, her friend caught between surprise and a pleased flush along her cheeks. Abby would have to tease her later, in return for how merciless Wylla had teased her.

“Do you?” Aegon asked, grinning at her, eyes full of heat. “We could, you know. It is my nameday.”

“We’ll be caught, and I’d rather your mother not find us,” she chuckled, spinning away from him to turn around Lord Tyland, who smiled down at her indulgently while Aegon politely moved around Lady Johanna Westerling, Tyland’s goodsister and dance partner. Her gaze kept pulling back to Aegon whenever they were separated in the dances, and when they came back together, there was an ache in her chest that she could not identify. Relief? Want? Longing?

Everything?

“Remind me to get you a map of the tunnels,” he murmured, leaning down to brush a kiss against her temple and she couldn’t help the bubbling of giggles that escaped her. Aegon looked incredibly pleased with himself, and as the next song started, he pulled her closer to him, hands possessive on her hips as he lifted her in the air and spun her around.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked. Then it clicked. “What, so I can sneak to your room?”

Aegon winked at her. “Clever girl.”

“I try.”

As Abby turned, her eyes caught on the furious, dark gaze of Edmund Vance across the hall, accompanied by Lord Piper and some of the other River Lords. Abby blanched, the joy she had felt abating like water on a fire at the ugly look in his eyes. So distracted, she was, that she stumbled her steps of the complicated dance, nearly falling had Aegon not pulled her to him in time. She saw his gaze follow hers, his own smile morphing into a hard look.

“I’ve taken care of it.” Abby didn’t understand, trying to find the steps again without ruining the entire dance, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Aegon’s hand brushed soothing along her arm, his other hand warm on her waist and giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Focus on me, eyes on me, hunītsos.” His voice was gentle and firm all at once, quiet and earnest and Abby focused on the sound of it, her gaze finding his, softened now. “Aemond saved me from making a scene, but I’ve handled it.” He tilted his head. “I don’t need to take his hands.”

Abby struggled to find words, a strange and unfamiliar thrill coursing through her that she could not examine too closely in the moment. “And what have you decided to take instead?”

As the dance came to a close, Aegon reached up to cup the softness of her cheek, tilting her head back with his thumb on her lower lip. He leaned in, mouth brushing against hers, and the vow he made was full of promise.

“His pride,” he murmured, and kissed her in front of the realm to seal it.

What was your favorite moment of the chapter? What's something you're looking forward to? Any fun theories!? I'd love to hear your thoughts on what you're enjoying about Maiden and any curiosities you might have! And if you're not sure what to say, just a kind reblog with a heart or something would be lovely <3

[Chapter Fifteen]

[sweetorangepoptart]

Year-End Writer's Roundup: 2024 edition

Thank you @pikapeppa for tagging me!!!

It’s that time of year, writer friends: time to take stock of what we’ve been up to this year! Tagging to literally ANY AND ALL WRITERS who would like to participate — seriously, if you write and you see this, please take this as an invitation to fill it out!

@starshinemaiden @kingbadgermole @deerstalkerdeathfrisbee @creampuffqueen @korrasamibottles @ozais-lobotomist @appalesbian @gaybd1 @kjthenbee @lokfeedsthegays @mellyoraa I know I forgot some of you just do this if you've written anything this year!!!

Words written (published or not, WIPs totally count too!!):

I'm not even going to try to count my WIP so we'll just go by AO3 wordcount which is... 335,514. Not too shabby.

Smut scenes:

Looks like 9! Two pwp oneshots and the rest in my longfics.

New things I tried:

Korrasami in Love, Asami!! I was really nervous about that one. I've been kind of questioning my gender for a while, and writing from the perspective of men felt really good. So shifting back into a woman's voice, especially one as nuanced and complex as Asami, was kind of jarring. But I'm glad I did. She was so interesting to write.

I also tried out a darker AU in You'll Be the Death of Me. I really love this one.

Mystery/political intrigue adjacent stuff in Security, too.

Original characters 😭 I've been so worried about my original characters and how they'll be received. But it's been fun to play with them! And the response has been positive.

Fic I spent the most time on:

Probably Windswept. The word count plus the amount of time I spent rewatching season 3 and researching various topics, it's definitely taken a lot of my time.

Fic I spent the least time on:

Probably my pwp Relax. That one came really easily (no pun intended) and I think it's my second lowest word count

Favorite thing I wrote: 

A Friend of the Avatar! Korra's perspective was fun and all the details I include were so fun to write: Mako telling Korra about Wu's allergy, Korra telling Mako to put Wu's letters on the fridge, Wu very smoothly being like "yes I like girls very much" when he was trying to cover his ass after all the brainwashing business was over and Korra was apologizing to him for leaving without him, Asami dissecting Wu's letter for a threesome proposition... Ahhhh I just had so much fun with that one!!! I even had fun coming up with the title (A friend of the Avatar=a friend of Dorothy. See what I did there???)

Favorite thing I read:

I don't want to play favorites because I read A LOT of good stuff, especially from @starshinemaiden @deerstalkerdeathfrisbee and @korrasamibottles submissions for Wuko week. So instead of playing favorites here, I'm going to go off to a different fandom.

Surface Tension , a Legend of Zelda Ocarina of Time fic. Pairing: Princess RutoXSheik/Zelda. OH MY GOD. I replayed OoT this year and I had an EPIPHANY that Ruto was in love with Sheik after he saved her life, and that Sheik returned them considering how he spoke about her to Link. I held my breath and searched for the Ruto/Sheik tag on Ao3... TEN WORKS. 10. ONE-ZERO. I was like about to cry wanting to read a good Ruto/Sheik fic... I scrolled through the 10 works and Surface Tension caught my eye for the 14k word count alone. I was HOOKED from the beginning. I was on the edge of my seat. The author did AMAZING and captured their voices and characterizations perfectly, and it was beautiful and funny and romantic and suspenseful and it had action and it was SOOOO well written. And it was written 14 years ago. Did I leave a comment? You bet I did. it was a loooooong comment too. And the author replied and said it made their week 🧡 the moral of this story is read old fics and comment on them.

Writing goals for next year: 

I need to finish my three in progress long fics. I feel very confident that I'll do it because of how good I felt finishing Secret, but I do admit juggling all 3 of them kinda sucks, just because I want them all to be finished already and I hate that each one goes like 2 months between updates. But I'll do it and if you can all stick with me and keep commenting it will make it way easier!!!

I, unfortunately, also have an idea for another longfic that was inspired by an ask about the fire nation princess... Something something Mako becomes her bodyguard, something something Wu pining as he watches them grow close and presumably fall in love the way Wu wishes it could have happened with him... I think I'll sprinkle in lots of misunderstandings and see what happens lol. I've started outlining it but I'm going to wait until my other three longfics are done before I get started with it so I can focus.

I also really want to write a Wuko fic from Bolin's perspective. I love Bolin and his voice so I really want to get in his head and see what I can do with his reactions and thoughts to his brother dating the Earth King.

And... To those of you who are only acquainted with my Wuko work, this might sound out of pocket, but I reeeeeeally want to write some hardcore BDSM too. I don't know how I'll do that because I'm endlessly obsessed with writing Wuko and in my head, Mako and Wu would never be into it (I can't even picture them doing a little light spanking 🤣). So I'll need to write a completely different pairing possibly a different fandom if I want to do that. But BDSM is probably my favorite flavor of smut to read and I used to have a lot of fun writing it. I've grown a lot as a writer so I'd love to take a crack at it and see what I can come up with.

Also WukoWeek is around the corner and I definitely need to write for that.

[morningstargirl666]

HIIII I just finished reading The Big Bad Wolf and IT WAS AWESOME I'm so happy I came across this fic because I don't usually read works in progress and it's a miracle that tumblr brought me to a post where this fic was mentioned in the comments.

So, I've been reading it for the last few days, and from the very conversation between Caroline and Klaus in chapter 11, when she was supposed to distract Klaus, I wondered if Marcel would show up in this job? Or if there would be more talk about him? And if Klaus would go to New Orleans and learns about Marcel being alive and a King . I just love fics where Caroline meets Marcel because he's proof that Klaus has a heart, I really believe they once had a family relationship.

I'm so intrigued about this work, it's magnificent, Thank you🤌😩

Firstly! Thanks so much for reading! ❤️✨ TBBW is my beautiful problem child and I love the fic with my whole heart. Tomorrow actually marks its one-year anniversary since I last updated which is absolutely WILD. Like? It's been a year?! Since my past self decided, hey! Lets just, you know, do some light editing. Fix all the crappy grammar and shit. What could possibly go wrong? [nervous laughter]

[side-eyes the steadily growing wordcount of TBBW's complete and utter rewrite at this point]

Yeah... ANYWAYS you might want to check ao3 tomorrow. I might be posting something to explain why I haven't updated in a year (and to tease what's to come hehe). And as for the coversation between Klaus and Caroline in what was chapter 11, I adore that scene! So thank you so much for pointing it out. It's a lovely favourite of mine. And as for Marcel, me mentioning him was definitely deliberate and you'll see more of him in TBBW's rewrite. Because oh, my dear, I have plans. Specifically, plans for a cetain sequel, set in New Orleans.

The whole baby plot always seemed so stupid to me? Especially when the writers created Marcel, a character concept that was far more intriguing than a miracle baby that completely demolished all the in-canon lore. So yeah. I fixed it.

That's what TBBW is, really. A fix-it fic. But instead of me picking one thing from canon I disagreed with, I just decided to fight the whole bloody thing, by tooth and claw and an' all.

Thanks for sticking by me and reading this feral gremlin of a fic. You're in for one hell of ride, I'll promise you that ✨

[leighsartworks216]

Painting Data's Nails

Data Soong x GN!Reader (platonic)

This was inspired by The Experiment by star_trek4ever on AO3 pls go read it its an awesome fic <3

Also wanna say that this is my first time writing Data and I am also not very far into the TNG series so maybe some of this contradicts idk

Warnings: very very light angst

Word Count: 1745

Masterlist

Tag List Form (Updated)

"Lieutenant, what is the purpose of this activity?"

Data's hand, surprisingly warm, rested steady in your own. Matter of fact, his hand was perfectly still; it was your hand's imperfect movements that caused it to move at all. Heavily focused on the task at hand, the question lingered in the air. The brush swept across the nail, leaving liquid pigment in its wake. Delicately, you evenly distributed the lacquer.. Then, with a relieved breath, you straightened away from his hand and deposited the brush back into the small bottle.

It was your idea. Data, with all his access to information and vast knowledge of early Earth history, knew nothing about human spa days. More accurately, he knew of them, but the greater purpose of taking care of oneself was lost on him.

"Well, nothing, really." You blew lightly on his nails, urging the yellow paint to dry faster. "I think it started as a beauty thing. Humans, mostly women, would paint their nails a bright color - like red or pink - and it would catch the eye of others. It became a form of vanity as it progressed, before it sort of died out."

"Intriguing." His brow furrowed at his hands, eyes distant as he skimmed through the database in his mind for more information. In a second, his eyes were focused once more on you. "Ah, I see. Painting one's nails became a popular form of self-expression in the early 20th century, temporarily increasing confidence and gathering the attention of others due to the humans' limited visible color spectrum.

"According to my records, disputes arose as to who would be allowed to wear nail polish, sometimes resulting in violence. I do not understand this. It is a rather simple activity - how could it cause such disagreement?"

You lifted his other hand and began the process of painting the nails once more. Your handiwork wasn't perfect - small bits of the paint attached itself to his cuticles, resulting in a non-uniform appearance - but the Android didn't seem to mind (or understand that it was 'imperfect') and you were enjoying the easy, repetitive motions.

"That's..." You struggled to find the word as you tried cleaning up a large dab of paint on his finger, the result of a sudden hand twitch. "Complicated. Back then, and I guess even still now, humans were uncomfortable with people even slightly different from them. They built up bullshit 'rules' to describe femininity and masculinity, and anybody that didn't fit into those societal standards was ostracized. It was mostly men who were made fun of for painting their nails, since it's considered a 'feminine' activity. They would be labeled as homosexual, regardless of their actual preferences in sex. It was a way to bully them for enjoying something that wasn't deemed masculine enough.

"But," you added, smiling softly at the man sitting across from you, "it was an excellent form of rebellion against those standards. People of all genders would wear the 'wrong' clothing or indulge themselves in things that went against the status quo. Of course, it died out once universal gender equality was established in... 2037?"

Data nodded, confirming the date. "Quite correct, lieutenant. The Complete Gender Equality Bill was passed in October of 2037, and stated that all persons, regardless of biological sex or personal gender identity, were allowed the same rights to equal pay, marriage, privacy, and expression."

His mouth opened for a brief second, ready to explain the various amendments that had been made to the original bill and their impacts on history, before shutting. You glanced up from your work in surprise when he didn't continue to ramble on.

"What's wrong?"

He was frowning again, appearing almost upset. "I have discovered that my tendency to, as the Captain puts it, 'babble' makes those around me uncomfortable and irritated. In an effort to avoid this, I have resorted to shortening my explanations."

Now it was your turn to frown. "You shouldn't have to do that, Data."

"No? But it makes my colleagues uncomfortable when I babble."

"Don't tell me they cut you off..."

Data remained silent, adhering to your wish.

You sighed, upset but also aggravated. Briefly, Data wondered if it was his literal interpretation that troubled you, as he often got confused with human expressions as such.

"You consider them your friends, correct?"

He considered this for a moment. "The definition of friend requires that we share a 'bond of mutual affection.' I do not believe this is true."

"Okay, then, what about companions?"

His head tilted, searching for the definition. "Ah, yes. 'A person or animal with whom one spends a lot of time with or with whom one travels.' My relationship with the rest of the Bridge crew does, indeed, satisfy this definition."

"Then they shouldn't do that. Friends or companions or colleagues or whatever should have a mutual form of respect. You don't just cut off somebody you respect. It's rude and mean and unfair."

"I do not comprehend their actions as mean; I am incapable of feeling that emotion."

You huffed, clearly annoyed at the topic of discussion. "That doesn't matter! What matters is that they know it's rude, but they don't care because they don't hold a mutual respect for you. They see you as lesser than them and it's not fair!"

"Inquiry: what is unfair about it?"

You barely stopped yourself from grabbing his shoulders and shaking to emphasize your point. Instead, eager to release the tension running through your veins, you stood from your bed and began pacing around your room.

“Regardless of whether you are an android or a human, or an android with human emotions, the Captain is human, the first officer is human - they have the emotions and rationelle to know what is rude or inappropriate when talking with someone else. Whether you are able to perceive it as rude means nothing when the people actively silencing you know it’s wrong! By continuing to interrupt you and cut you off, they are actively letting you know in a passive aggressive - possibly even subconscious - way that you are less than human. They claim to accept and encourage your personal goal of embracing human emotions, but actively play a role in stunting that growth by not giving you the space or time of day a normal human would get.

“It’s unfair because it’s hypocritical and demeaning and, ugh, so very human of them to look down on anything slightly different from them.” A long, drawn out sigh escaped you, stealing with it the last remnants of your anger and frustration. You plopped back down on the bed, laying unceremoniously across from Data.

It takes you a minute to gather the energy to sit back up. Your outburst has drained you of energy. After a long work day bustling from control panel to control panel, reattaching wires or rerouting power, you had just enough energy to have a quiet moment with Data. And now it was all gone. So much for a relaxing spa day.

“Lieutenant?”

You hum to let him know you’re listening even as you twist the yellow bottle of paint shut and retrieve the sealing top coat of polish from a miniature makeup bag.

“If, as you suggest, this repetitive behavior is detrimental to my goal, what would you suggest I do to confront the issue?”

Halfway to reaching his hand, Data holds it out for you, meeting you in a familiar middle ground. His hands are still warm and steady. Your brushing movements are clumsier than before. He would have gone so far as to say careless, but the change in your demeanor was akin to exhaustion, so he did not say anything.

You sighed. “If it really doesn’t bother you, do nothing. If you think they really do have a good reason for cutting you off, do nothing. But…” You placed his right hand back in his lap to dry and picked up his left hand. “I think you should mention it, at least. You deserve to be treated with respect, even if you do have a tendency to ‘babble’.”

Data’s mind rushed to consider the possibilities, and his own ‘emotions’. While, no, he did not feel irritation or unfairness in his colleague’s actions, he considered your empathetic viewpoint. Rationally, there were times when he was explaining something in detail to the Captain, something he felt was of importance to the mission at hand, only to be cut off and left lacking in the satisfaction of the explanation. It was not illogical to interpret this as an early form of irritation or inadequacy.

On the other hand, he could understand in certain situations that his extensive elaborating was unhelpful, such as listing times down to their seconds or stating every single number past a decimal point rather than rounding up - topics he often got cut off on.

Having the facts laid bare before him, it was easy to come to a consensus. If he could round up his numbers and calculate how vital the information was before continuing to elaborate on insignificant matters, there would be less need to be interrupted. And if his colleagues on the Bridge could conclude whether or not the information was vital, and learn to cut him off in a ‘kinder’ manner, there would be less interrupting overall.

When he zoned back in from his contemplations, you were softly blowing along his nails.

“Lieutenant?” You hummed again, carefully running your thumbpad over the lacquer to ensure it was dry and continuing to blow when one was a little wet. “I have considered your suggestions and have concluded the best course of action. From my understanding, when humans do not communicate their issues with one another, the problems begin to increase in magnitude. It would be beneficial for myself and my companions to communicate these issues as I have with you and find a middle ground with which to continue forward.”

You brushed your thumb over his nails once again before letting his hands go. You grinned up at him, eyes softened with fatigue. “I think that’s a good idea, Data.” You smiled a little bit wider when Data’s lips curled into an awkward facsimile of a grin.

As he returned to his room, leaving you with an in-depth description of the Complete Gender Equality Bill as you drifted off for the evening he considered how fitting it was to be wearing a symbol of rebellion and standing up for oneself.

[kimium]

I was tagged in this post HERE by my friend @m34gs. Thanks for the tag, friend!

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have WIPs. People send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

This is so funny because I usually have very little WIPs. Truly, I am a minimalist when it comes to WIPs so there isn't a lot on this list. There are also some that are already posted to Ao3 but are here because they're still in progress.

Here are my WIPs as titled in my documents:

The Truth Will Set You Free (Twisted Wonderland - Platonic Yandere AU)

How to Become a God (Twisted Wonderland - God AU - Idia's Chapter)

Extra Stories (Twisted Wonderland - Mafia AU)

Items for Sale (SDR2)

Some sort of AI: Somnium Files fic (I don't have a document made for it yet)

I tag: @a-little-harmed-shinra, @someobscurereference and @shreedle

[sotwk]

Mae govannen! I am so intrigued by all your ideas and works surrounding Thranduil’s early life. I want to start reading them! I’ve looked over your Masterlist and I’m a bit overwhelmed. Is there a chronological order to them? Does it matter what order I read them in? Are you still writing the series? I’m asking because I enjoy reading fic on AO3 more than I do tumblr and would like to read the series in the best order over there.

I hope all those questions make sense. Thank you so much.

Mae govannen! What a wonderful message to receive! :)

I am so happy you're interested in reading my Thranduil works! Alas, I will admit that my Masterlist has become a bit of an unkempt garden (which is just a taste of the overgrown jungle that is my writer brain, but let's not go there), so I can't blame you or anyone for feeling overwhelmed! I'm SO appreciative that you have come to me asking for a method to the madness!

A few things to note about my writings:

I write fics and HCs exclusively for Tolkien. (So I'm kinda focused in that way, at least. lol.)

100% of my Headcanons and about (currently) 85% of my Fanfics are faithful to an established SotWK AU and Timeline. All concepts or events mentioned in the "faithful" works remain consistent and carry throughout other SotWK fics. I love connecting everything I write!

All Tolkien Canons and all Tolkien Original Characters I create have a fixed existence in the SotWK AU and Timeline. I try to avoid writing multiple versions of canon characters.

Reader Insert x Canon fics are the only stories that can deviate from the SotWK AU and Timeline.

You are not the first one to have asked for advice on navigating my headcanon/fic jungle, but thanks to your Ask, I finally "pruned" and reorganized my Headcanon Masterlist, breaking it down into subcategories that exist in separate pages!

In regards to my fanfic list, for every fic I write, I include the specific year (sometimes even date) that the story takes place, because (almost) every story and event exists in the same AU and timeline.

I haven't written a ton of actual fics yet; I have several ongoing series and a TON of "fic concepts". But for people interested in my concept of Thranduil's family life and kingly rule during the "Golden Age" of Eryn Galen, I recommend starting with the following (all links are Ao3, per your preference):

The Crown - About Thranduil's coronation. Gives some history and detail about his early marriage and relationship with his wife, Maereth. One-shot.

Greenleaf’s Day Out - A fluffy child-Legolas fic where each chapter highlights his relationship with his four older brothers and his parents. Multi-chapter, completed.

Yuletide in the Elvenking's Realm A collection of stand-alone fluffy ficlets describing Yuletide memories and traditions in the Woodland Realm through the eyes of Thranduil and his family. Multi-chapter, in progress.

The next big series I'm hoping to tackle for Thranduil is the "Sins of Our Fathers" series, which I started off rather messily, but I'm trying to pick back up. It's supposed to tell the very important story of Thranduil and Maereth's first meeting and the early stage of their relationship (going from rocky first impressions to friendship). I don't promote this work a lot since I feel like I haven't done it justice yet. I'm trying to fix that!

Thank you again for your ask and you interest! I hope this helps you get started with reading some of my work. :) I would love to hear what you think!

[riversimmone]

Three's A Crowd

Three's A Crowd - Chapter 1

RiverOfTheSand

Summary:

SasuSaku. He didn't mean to kill that man. He had simply reacted to being attacked. And now Konoha is forced to hunt down the rogue members of Team 7, or risk open war. Eventual NaruHina.

Notes:

Cross-posting from fanfiction.net. Where it is complete. I wrote this back in 2011 and I wasn't sure whether to put it on AO3 or not. But why not, right? Please just keep in mind that it's not a representation of my current ability or style. I am cross-posting for the sake of having it on AO3. Don't get me wrong, I do really like this story. I have many fond memories of when I was writing it and certain songs are very nostalgic for me with this fic. And it's 20 chapters long and complete so it was a milestone I am proud of still. Please read and kudo and comment. I hope you enjoy. :)

End chapter notes:

Thankyou so much for reading. :)

This is a work in progress story you can also find on AO3 and FF.NET.

Enjoy. :)

Chapter One. Moving On.

Sakura Haruno. That was the name her parents had given her. They were lost amongst a sea of civilians and ninja alike who had died when Konoha was levelled and left masses of orphaned children in their wake. Sakura and her two team mates, Naruto Uzumaki and Sasuke Uchiha were amongst those who had no-one left, and decided to abandon Konoha.

Of course, Team 7, minus their teacher Kakashi Hatake, had been the only ones to actually leave. They spent years on the road, doing odd jobs to survive, while honing their ninja skills. They had even stolen jutsu from countries that despised their own, but their ultimate goal was just to keep moving, and find the one who had killed their respective families.

Revenge, yes that was it. No-one inside of Konoha, who had been left standing anyway, had wanted to actively search for that fiend.

It had been six years since they'd set off together, and Sakura, Sasuke, and Naruto were now nineteen years old. They didn't trust anyone but each other, and even though Naruto had a bad habit of sleeping with disreputable women in dingy hotel rooms, they were only comfortable around each other.

No, Sakura was not the cream filling in some sort of sex trio, although Naruto had suggested he and Sasuke fuck her from both ends one night when he'd had too much sake. She'd violently motivated him never to suggest that again! That said, she had knocked him unconscious mostly to cover her own embarrassment. While she knew she'd never act on it, the idea of sleeping with Naruto had had her slightly intrigued. She was not a cream filling!

Sakura fumed at the memory, staring out over the picturesque view before her. She was standing outside a tea shop, only an hour outside of the small village she had spent the last few days scouring. It was called Gakutsuna town, and was home to low life reprobates. This land was abundant with them. The Land of Rice Paddies they called it. Sakura called it Freakville.

A loud crash coming from within the shop did not bother her. It was just routine after all. The owner of this shop had information they needed and was being stubborn. He just needed a little persuasion. Sakura smiled at that, imagining that that intimidating Uchiha stare as well as Naruto's brusque interrogation "techniques" were scaring that old coot. And normally she'd be in there, doing the whole fisticuffs thing she liked so much, but the owner was a seventy year old pervert and Sasuke had asked her to leave when she'd tried to kill him for asking her for sex. They needed him alive to talk.

Sakura shivered involuntarily. Yeah, she was happier out here.

Still, she was bored, staring out over this valley, wondering how much longer her boys were going to play for. They needed this information yes, but they also needed to be out of this valley by night fall. Rumour had it that leaf ninja were coming this way tonight. Sakura remembered Konoha fondly, but had no desire to run into old friends or even complete strangers when she was a missing-nin who had to be captured or killed on sight. Whoever these leaf ninja were, their mission had nothing to do with Kitsúne.

Kitsúne was the name Konoha knew them by, but as far as Sakura, Sasuke, and Naruto knew, they didn't know what they looked like, let alone who they really were. That notorious S-Rank bingo book was only filled out by the living, and they weren't in it. Of course, when it came to people they didn't need to kill Sakura was very good at making them forget. A little Genjutsu went a long way. She was a natural with that particular type of jutsu.

Sasuke and Naruto exited the tea shop ten minutes later, in an orderly fashion. Naruto then ruined the image by poking tongue at Sakura and pulling down the bottom of his eye lid in mock. She glared at him.

"Who the hell are you mocking, dweeb?" She said threateningly.

He just chuckled and ignored her question. He was so immature, such a dobe, that if Sakura had not seen him kill on the battlefield before, she would never have believed he was capable of it. But he wasn't some blood thirsty animal – in fact, the only one of the three of them that sometimes had to be pulled back from that dark brink was Sasuke.

"We got what we needed," Sasuke said in a monotone voice.

She loved him, but would it kill him to at least sound like he cared? She rolled her eyes at him. "Yeah yeah, and while you boys got to play I've been bored to tears."

Sasuke spared her a smile, although it wasn't really his style. "You can do the next one."

She grinned. "Thank you Sasuke-kun!" She refrained from jumping him. They were out in the open and Naruto was here. That could wait until they were alone again.

"Teme!" Naruto whined. "I wanted to do the next one!" He huffed. "You're not in charge you know!"

"I know, dobe," Sasuke said, genuinely amused.

They had decided long ago that this would be a democracy. There were three of them, so when it came to making decisions, they were never deadlocked. But quite often, Naruto was the odd one out, voting for things that would never happen. Occasionally, either Sakura or Sasuke would change their vote to make their friend feel like one of the gang. He hated that he was outvoted more often than not.

Sakura glanced back at the little shop as they moved away, toward the setting sun. It was in the early stages of the orange tint that only sunset could bring.

"Did you kill him?" She asked, thinking about the old pervert and realising there was no sound within the shop anymore.

It was obvious they had, considering Sakura was the only one of them that could mess with people's memories. There was no way the boys would leave this guy alive if he could finger them in a line-up. Sasuke's Sharingan came in handy, but he hadn't figured out how to use it to do what came so easily to Sakura. This bugged him, but there were also a lot of things he used his Bloodline Limit to do that the others could never do, like put up a genjutsu that hid them from view from even other ninja.

"Of course, Sakura," Naruto said, waving away her concern. "He just didn't scream, that's why you didn't hear it."

"He didn't scream because I told him not to," Sasuke said, sounding slightly annoyed. His face remained impassive though.

"Don't argue boys," Sakura said, as Naruto opened his mouth to retort. She grabbed Sasuke's hand, linking their fingers together. "The important question is what did he tell you?"

"We were right," Sasuke said, without elaborating.

On Sakura's other side, Naruto brightened, humming softly to himself and admiring the trees as they found the path they'd taken to get here and entered the woods. They were well on their way to leaving the valley, and the nearby Gakutsuna town, so he was happy, but content – which explained why he wasn't bouncing all over the place. The energetic knucklehead was taking a time out, so it seemed.

Sakura ignored him and squeezed Sasuke's hand. "Well?"

"The cloud ninja are cleaning house with their missing-nin. If we enter Lightning Country, we'll have to keep a low profile."

Sakura nodded. "I still don't understand how he knew that."

"You'd be surprised the sort of things shop owners overhear," Sasuke said. "He didn't even realise how valuable that information would've been, if he'd just bartered for it, instead of holding back."

Naruto chuckled at that, barely listening. "Old goat."

"Stop." Sasuke pulled Sakura still and shot a glare at Naruto as the blonde glanced at him, still walking.

"You're not in charge, teme."

"There's someone coming this way," Sasuke said softly. "Ninja by the feel of them. We should hide."

"Leaf?" Sakura asked, worried. They had wanted to avoid this.

He nodded. "Don't worry, they don't know we're here... yet."

They jumped up and off the road, and he activated his Sharingan to protect them. Sakura watched the four figures heading their way, ambling along the road as though they had no idea anyone was around – which they didn't. They were definitely ninja though. As they came closer, she recognised their faces. A heavy weight on her heart almost made her sigh deeply. She missed Konoha, but Kitsúne could never return. Sasuke pulled gently on her hand and she followed him and Naruto away from their old friends, and into the sunset.

X X X

[combeferres-mothematics]

Thanks for the tag, @syrupsyche and @granhairdo!!! :D This looks fun!! (And I can always use more motivation to actually WORK on my wips... lmao)

Get ready for a chaotic amount of HIGHLY niche aus, that are very badly named (There are way more just untitled that I don't feel like opening up to see what they are...)

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

The Sweepings of the Street (some is posted on Ao3, but it's still in progress so it's going here)

Bini Laundry Adventures

Barricade day Fic

Adventures in Pontmercy Babysitting (Valvert edition)

Adventures in Pontmercy Babysitting (Les Amis edition) As you can tell I'm very creative naming things

Triumvirate Camping

Even the Darkest Nights will End and the Sun will Rise

Courfeyrac et les bebes

Combeferre loses his eyebrows once again

Combeferre loses his eyebrows

Les Amis Camping Trip

A Les Amis Christmas

SCIENCE MUSEUM SCIENCE MUSEUM SCIENCE MUSEUM

Untitled Document [1]

Summer Camp Au

Les Mis NATM Au

OK I THINK THAT'S ALL OF THEM Well, let's see who I can remember writes lol

@grandtear @belovedhomo @faevibing @darkgreenandbloodred @curufiin @meerawrites @twistyoliver (I can't remember if you write or not?) @a-roseinmisery @maip--macrothorax And anyone else who wants to join!

[thedragonagebigbang]

Bang Creator Interview: AO3: ParallelanPrincess  |  Bluesky: ParallelanPrincess

The Collaboration period has begun! In these quiet months before works are due, we want to foster a sense of excitement, camaraderie, and celebration among our participants. To that end, all participants were given the option of a formal interview by our mod, Dema, or an informal “ask-game” survey. We hope you enjoy getting to know our phenomenal creators as much as we have!

Local Elf Extremely Unqualified For New Job

Para and Dema talk Hinterland Elves, Nickelback, and tug-of-war with wayward OCs

Dema: We're about two months into the writing period(!!!! halfway!!). Have you found your process has changed during this time?

Para: Oh definitely. In the beginning I was writing daily and being upset when I missed a day. Now, I'll do roughly 7-10 days of writing straight and then take a break.  I work a fulltime job so I'm always writing either in the evenings or on the weekends. I've found that the best way to get work done is by sprinting with others. Prior to that, I was just sitting down to write for an indeterminate amount of time and making little progress. Sprinting is definitely more effective in getting words on the page in a reasonable amount of time. I also use an excel sheet to track my writing in regards to time spent, word count, what day, etc so I've been trying to use that to maximize my productivity.

Dema: Sprinting is such a powerful tool. One of the things that I find so interesting about it is that it appeals to people in different ways – some just like the time + short break, some like the community or body doubling, as some are competitive and looking to get the highest word count. What about it is helpful for you, do you think?

Para: It’s the community that helps. Even if the other person isn't writing, or is using the timer for something else. So since I'm extra, I use gifs to announce that I'm in the server and want to sprint, and usually people respond very enthusiastically to that since it kind of opens the floor to join. But for this bang, sprinting has been all about the word count since this will be my longest COMPLETED fic.

Dema: Oh wow, that's exciting! Is this your first big bang, then?

Para: This is my…I want to say third bang? The first one was the Not Victuuri bang and the second was a Tadaai Bang. This is my first non-anime bang! So for tackling it, I had to redo my approach. I couldn't just rewatch a show. I had to replay the game and make notes as I went!

Dema: I love a note-taking replay. Did anything stand out to you this play through? Any little tidbits of dialogue or lore that you were excited to be reminded of?

Para: I noticed that there's a lot of opportunity to help elves in the Hinterlands. And if you do there are a few dialogue options that correspond if you're Dalish. So I wanted my Lavellan to react to these elves who weren't in a clan or alienage and how that sort of fit into his world view.

I also noticed that if you dillydally too much, Solas will start to insist you go to Val Royeaux, which is really interesting to me. Very early on in my writing, I noticed I was retelling the main game beat for beat, so I had to do a VERY hard pivot and start getting extra creative. But also just the whole thing of being an "outsider" and suddenly having to deal with politics and religion that are utterly alien to you was an intriguing concept. 

Dema: I'm so curious if there was a particular elf in the Hinterlands that influenced or challenged your Lavellan's worldview. For me it was Hyndel. 

Para: Oh it was definitely Hyndel. I can't go into detail because I worry it will enter spoiler territory. But Hyndel and the cult were very intriguing concepts to explore. Also, I think her name is Maura, the elf whose husband is killed by the templars. She was also a good concept.

Dema: Is Inquisition your favorite game in the franchise?

Para: Oh definitely. I played Origins first and loved it. My first Origins playthrough was Surana and I went in deciding that would be the default world state. I've never, ever seen a copy of DA2 in the wild, so I never played that. Good thing we have the Keep. But yes, Inquisition holds a special place in my heart. The game that showed me that I could handle open world rpgs. I'm typically a Simmer and a farm rpg girl, so Inquisition was the first time I went "Okay, maybe AAA games aren't overhyped." I've done about 4 playthroughs, but I crafted a new one just for the bang. Also, the mage combat was far, far easier in DAI. 

Dema: I LOVE being a mage in DA:I! All the classes are fun but Mage is always my first playthrough 😂 As a fellow simmer: have you made your DA OC's in the Sims

Para: I really, really should. My laptop would explode if I tried to add the necessary CC. Also, my fave game in that series is Sims 3. Those third installments hit different.

Dema: They really do. That game was a masterpiece. Besides your new play through and the DA universe in general, is anything in particular inspiring you for your bang fic?

Para: I really draw a lot of inspiration from music. I'm the type of person who always uses song lyrics for their titles. If it works it works. Feel free to redact if this is goes to spoiler territory, but the guiding song behind this fic was Nickelback's Rockstar. For the guiding song, my brain has a full on animatic in mid. Shame I can't draw. But yes, I was debating what kind of Lavellan I wanted to make. Heard the song randomly and went Oh.....OH! I can use this!

Dema: Did you already have a general idea or direction and then created your Lavellan, or was it a back-and-forth? Or something else?

Para: Once I had the guiding song, it came down to crafting my Lavellan from that. And he then proceeded to fight me. The end result is only a hint of the character I set out to write. But hey, that's part of the process! So I had a concept and a direction that immediately went left. Decided to roll with it because it was putting words on the page and making sense. So it was a tug of war in many ways and my Lavellan won out in the end. (He is a lil shit)

Dema: Well he's a Big Rockstar. What did you expect. (mine always give me a hard time too lmao)

Para: I expected him to go with the plan!!

Dema: Besides wrangling your OC, what is the greatest challenge writing a fic like this?

Para: Sticking to the outline. Dear lord, the outline. I do not do well with outlines and I foolishly thought this would be different. My original outline was both vague and overly ambitious. For this reason, my fic was dragging a bit at the beginning. I had to revise my outline three times and then finally tossed it once I got about 14k in because I finally knew how to scale it down for the time I had left. Another thing was deviating enough from canon to make my fic unique without making the characters and setting unrecognizable. Looking at my first outline, I had pretty much retold the game so it's good I ditched it.

Dema: Sounds like you've been very flexible in this process and it's serving you well!

Para: I have to be. This is a big word count to hit and sometimes staying on target means doing whatever keeps the plot progressing, even if you have to go in totally blind.

Dema: In the last few minutes, and only if it sounds fun, can you give your fic a misleading click-bait title? (Without major spoilers of course)

Para: Local Elf Extremely Unqualified For New Job

Dema: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Para: He did not sign up for this!!

Dema: Actually cackling right now. This could be a spider-man meme with so many Lavellans.

Para: It really could.

Dema: Thank you so much for your time today, Para! It's been fun chatting and I can't wait to read your fic!

Para: Thank you for taking the time out to speak with me!

[the-tmnt-ficfinder]

Ficfinder finds: Built to Kill, Sworn to Protect

Rottmnt Fanfic Summary: Leo always felt a different from his brothers. He was stronger, faster, and more violent than his brothers. Unlike his brothers, he was a natural-born fighter. Thankfully he was good at hiding it. Everything was fine until he did something he'd forever regret and lose the trust of his brothers.

Built to Kill, Sworn to Protect: Appraisal and Ratings

(Don't know what fanfic "Appraisal and Ratings" means? Check out my explanation on my Main Masterpost! Looking for a different fanfic to read? Head on over to my Fanfic List Masterpost!)

Disclaimer: This fanfic is unfinished, and as such, this post will be updated as fanfic updates. This fanfic is written by @arhintess so go show them some love and support!!

The fanfic ratings are not based on quality, favoritism, or how good I think it is, but rather, how intense a subject may be. Like a movie review, or the tags on Ao3, letting the readers know what to expect.

Plot: 💛💛💛🖤🖤

"Plot is three out of five!! The plot for this fic is an interesting one!! The idea of Leo being wildly strong, and having to constantly hold back around his brothers, is an intriguing one!! The plot for this fanfic seems to be following the canon plotline, starting a few years before season 1, then extending into the first episode and so on. Like, a 'what if' version of the classic rottmnt! I'd also have to say, though this is a rottmnt fic, the character traits and personalities are incredibly reminiscent of the 2012 turtles ^^"

Suspense/Mystery: 💛🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Suspense/Mystery is one out of five!! As the plotline follows the canon rottmnt plotline, there isn't a lot of mystery nor suspense. This story is much more of a 'what if' type story.

Angst/Hurt: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Angst/Hurt is two out of five!! While this fic does have a good amount of hurt in it, none of it is wildly overwhelming, nor extremely triggering. It has a good blend of hurt, just enough to make it intriguing!"

Fluff/Comfort: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Fluff/Comfort is two out of five!! This fic has the same amount of comfort that it has of hurt. An even balance of the both!!"

Emotions Conveyed: 💛🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Emotions Conveyed is one out of five!! This fanfic is not on the immersive side, and will not mess with your head horribly. Instead, this fanfic is fun to read, and follow along with!! Less of the type of fanfic you read to feel something intense, but rather the type you read to enjoy a good story plot!!"

Drama/Tension Level: 💛💛💛🖤🖤

"Drama/Tension Level is three out of five!! In this fic, there is a lot of tension, especially between Leo and his brothers. His brothers don't trust him, and Leo doesn't feel welcome around them, making for a very tense atmosphere indeed!!"

Triggers: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Triggers are two out of five!! This fanfic does touch on a few sensitive subjects, like sibling abuse (though it is accidental) and family neglect, along with some injuries. However, nothing so far has been very graphic."

Legibility (Reading): 💛💛💛🖤🖤

"Legibility (Reading) is three out of five!! Quite the enjoyable read!! Each chapter runs slightly on the shorter side, and while it is enjoyable to read, there are a few typos and grammatical issues that may be distracting to some folks. But if you're someone who doesn't mind at all, the plot is highly enjoyable, and very much worth a read!"

Legibility (Audio): 💛💛💛🖤🖤

"Legibility (Audio) is three out of five! Same as for reading, once again, very enjoyable to listen to! Now, also once again, those grammatical errors can be quite distracting in audio book form, but once again, if you're someone who doesn't mind, this fic is a wonderful read!!"

Length: 💛🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Length is one out of five!! Currently Built to Kill, Sworn to Protect has a word count of 12.5k words, and about less than 10 chapters, though that will change as the story progresses."

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Built to Kill, Sworn to Protect: Chapter List

(Chapters will be added as I rate and appraise them ^^)

(Yet to be added)

[eliotqueliot]

WIP Tag Game

RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I am still working on a number of the same WIPs, so I'll talk about progress and priorities a bit to make it more interesting. Also, I make art as well as fic, so I'll tag a few artists. Please note: I'm tagging you only because I love your work. Absolutely no worries if you don't wish to post! Also, please, anyone looking at this--please jump in if you like💖 @magicians4time @vooruitmariek @itsminimes @violetsarepurple-fuckyou @wolfnprey

also tagging (please stop being funny about this, Tumblr!!!)

@bravelostgirl @cyprianlatewood @jessalae @lovequeliot @springybreak

okay Tumblr, I have your number, thank you, also tagging

@tbraves24 @lizardkingeliot @yourtinseltinkerbell

Tagged by @unlifeira. Thank you!

All my WIPs are The Magicians, specifically Queliot fanfic/fanart.

I'm super, beyond excited to announce we've started working on this project again! So dear to my heart! I'm illustrating the brilliant fic by @magicians4time

We Could Build a Castle - EliotQueliot, Librarity - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

2. I'm making art for every still photo on the AO3 side of my collection of haiku about the Mosaic life of Eliot and Quentin. This is a long-term project. There are going to be more than a hundred paintings in it when I'm done. So far I've posted nine of them. My aim is to add something, some touch, some light and color, an expression, to each scene. (There will also be more haiku eventually!)

Mosaic Haiku (with Art) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

(the photos I'll be painting are visible in the Tumblr mirror chapters)

3. I have a Secret Queliot Novel collaboration project with a beloved Queliot artist. I'm working on the middle chapter right now. The "finished" chapters are about 80k so far. Teaser: it concerns a mix of book and show to retell the Keys Boat Quest!

4. Ongoing and very important to me, I just posted Ch. 4 for this AU:

you want it darker? || dark king eliot - EliotQueliot, victoriaandalbert - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

It's a challenging fic to write, so I got slowed down a bit, but in general I try to post a chapter every other month.

5. I'm actively working on the next chapter of this. Hoping it will be the next fic chapter I post:

Sailing to Blackspire - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Below are the rest of my WIPs, basically in the order they appear in my list of works on AO3. I'm making art for some of them. I'll finish all of them. I just have so much going on! Also, I have ideas sketched out for quite a number of Queliot fanfic and fanart pieces after these. Just trying to maintain some kind of order in all this chaos!

6. ...Baby One More Time - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

This will be short but needs a few chapters. Time loops!

7. All We Need Is One Good Day (Any Day That You're Alive) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

One more chapter and another moodboard to go!

8. Secret Lives - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Several more chapters, it seems. I have a rough outline and a number of scenes sketched out.

9. The First Duty of All Magicians Is to Save Their Friends (with Art) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Making art for every chapter! The next chapter you read will earn the E-rating!

10. Eliot Rocks the Memory Palace (with Art) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Oh, so many chapters to go, can't wait to fully write them! I have many, many scenes sketched or partly written. A few more pieces of art to make.

11. How They Met Themselves (with Art) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

The drawing and scenario are posted. I'll be painting it. I might even write a tiny fic to go with it.

12. Going South (with Art) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

I have a number of scenes written and a lot of plot sketched out. Will also be making a few more piece of art.

13. The Once and Future Kings of Fillory - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Lots of draft, but it's going in a different direction than I planned. We'll see if I can get it back on track.

14. The fic for this one is finished, but I'm slowly working on painting the art for

How Did That Basket of Peaches Get There? Or, A Secret Royal Wedding, Bitches! (with Art) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

15. The painting is finished, but at some point I'll write the fic for

Secret Admirers (Art) - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

16. Mosaic Mendings - EliotQueliot - The Magicians (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

I have some plot notes. But it turns out there's a lot more to this story than anticipated!

[fruitzbat]

happy mollymauk week, everyone! as it's threeleaf day, I thought I'd use this time to spread the word about my fan novel trilogy to any enthusiasts who might not be aware.

The series is called “Devil & The Details”, but it’s more commonly referred to as “Devilverse” for short. The first two books are complete, and the third is currently being serialized.

Linked beneath the cut, we have an epic about Kingsley getting into new trouble on the seas, his captaincy of the Mollymauk, and ultimate rise to the throne of Darktow. While both Molly and Lucien make appearances — along with some other members of the Nein — the story is chiefly about Kingsley and his efforts to forge a unique path for himself. Since this is also a story where all three make an appearance, this trilogy potentially carries the dubious honor of being the longest threeleaf fic on ao3.

The goal of the series was to explore some of the things referenced by Taliesin about the ideas he wanted to explore with both Molly and Kingsley's existences, such as the notion of "soullessness" in mermaids and the philosophical concept of the tabula rasa. The overarching story is also about healing from different kinds of trauma, grief, breaking cycles of abuse, myths and realities of "the pirate's life" and "the resistance" as a concept, accountability, and how T4T love transcends petty things like death and fate. Think Black Sails meets Baldur's Gate with a Candide rising.

CW for: canon-typical violence and gay sex,* gore, mild body horror, frank discussions and depictions of slavery and genocide, cannibalism, suicide (especially in book III), and mentions (but not depictions) of sexual assault.

*There are also two short stories in the series that trend more towards the NSFW/PWP side and are about King and his love interest in the novels; their promo post can be found...

UPDATE: post deleted, flagged by tumblr censors since it's about two trans people in love, lmao.

The novels are written in what could be loosely described as historical fiction style, with other heavy influences taken from 90s anime and camp fantasy. They follow a standard fantasy trilogy setup, with the first book being more plotty, the second more character-driven, and the third currently shaping up to be a mix of the two.

BOOK I: Crowned Teeth (or, An Offering Revoked) [complete, 130,670 words]

We find Kingsley in dire straits after being betrayed by his crew and sold into slavery in the Hespet Archipelago. Breaking out with nothing to his name except a pair of enchanted pistols and a ragtag handful of other escapees, Kingsley vows to see himself avenged upon the leadership of the Tempest Fang.

BOOK II: Wine-Dark Sea [complete, 161,010 words]

With the Fang defeated and Kingsley trying to make things right in their absence, Fjord and Jester accept a quest to uncover a lost relic near the island of Glintshore. With the archdemon Maxima and the Abyssal Plane's intrigue unfolding in the wings, the three of them discover that there is more than what meets the eye.

BOOK III: Home to Roost [in progress, projected 300,000 words]

At long last, Kingsley and the other ex-Revelry members that make up the Diamond-eaters are sailing on Darktow. The long awaited showdown with the Plank King looms, and the archdemon Samiel plots to take the throne from Graz'zt. To his great misfortune, Captain Tealeaf catches the eye of both of them. To protect his new friends and ensure his path to the throne, Kingsley has to call on unexpected allies.

This is very much a labor of love on my end; King, specifically, is very important to me for many reasons. In case we never got the opportunity to explore his life and times on-stream, it was imperative to me that he get at least one story to call all his own.

If you want a proper pirate epic to tuck into, this is it!