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emilykaldwen · 2 months

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

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.

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Author's Note: Happy Anniversary to Maiden! I'm so happy to those of you who've been on the journey from the start and those who have found this story along the way. We are in the final few chapters of this Arc! And to celebrate, I bring you amazing plot twists! All my love and thanks to @vampire-exgirlfriend for holding my hand and being with me every step of the way, and @darkwolf76 who loved this story first.

If you're reading here on tumblr, I'd love to hear from you! My inbox is open and I can't wait to hear your thoughts!

CHAPTER TWENTY - I'm In Over My Head

We finally arrive at Harrenhal, where you cannot escape the ghosts.

It was a fortnight by horseback and only six hours by Sunfyre to Harrenhal, but the royal progress along the Kingsroad took a moon. The people needed to see them, the queen had insisted, refusing to let them stay and ride out on dragonback. Instead, Helaena would stay, Ser Criston at her side, and the sworn sword would fly with the princess in a month’s time. Baela would fly out with them on Moondancer, Jace on Vermax, and Aemond would accompany the royal progress without Vhagar.

Harrenhal could only house so many dragons.

Abby was ready to be done with it all; her body felt like it would never stop jostling even when she was out of the wheelhouse. The days on horseback were better, but even those had left her aching from her inexperience. Aegon had whispered in her ear that it would be good practice for her, and how precious she looked bowlegged. The ribald flirtation had sent a rush of heat and anticipation through her, as well as frustration with him for making light of how uncomfortable she’d been. For his cheek, she’d bundled herself in the wheelhouse with the Crane twins, Merei Thorne, and Floris, the latter of which had her hold her tongue to keep from ranting.

She missed Wylla.

Wylla, she knew, would loop her arm through hers and recount all the wonderful ways they could make Aegon miserable. Jesting, of course, though the pair regularly snipped at one another.

Guilt roiled in Abby’s gut. After the betrothal announcement between Aemond and Floris, Wylla had taken the opportunity to flee to Stone Hedge to witness her brother’s nuptials to Lady Alys Bracken. It had been good that she did, Abby thought. She would be able to see her mother and other brothers, who had come down in order to attend her wedding, and Wylla did not know when she would see them next. Karhold was further north than Winterfell and her friend was giving up a great deal to come live at Harrenhal.

That said little of the other reasons why Wylla had eagerly left for Stone Hedge, and Abby thought of Helaena’s words all those months ago. ‘And I’ll be left alone while you and Aegon are busy making babies together!’ She felt like a poor friend and and even worse sister, unable to deny that as the weeks had passed, her focus had been less on duties she’d taken so seriously, of being there for those she cared for, and more focused on the making of her wedding dress, of the stealing time with Aegon with a desperate heat and wanting, of responding to well wishes and organizing a household… when she had promised to always be there for Helaena. When she had begun to foster a love and friendship with Wylla that had grown into its own sisterhood.

Jace had so easily comforted Helaena during her difficult days when Abby was pulled away or otherwise occupied. And Wylla had not even told her of the budding romance between her and Aemond - now brutally cut short in the wake of politics beyond their control. So consumed she’d been with Aegon, with everything else, things that, selfishly, were for her and her alone, and so easily she’d forgotten those she vowed to care for.

Abby would do all she could to make up for it. She would ensure that Wylla did not feel forgotten, that her and Helaena could indeed visit often. She would write, she would-

“Lady Abrogail?”

Desmera’s voice cut through the swirl of guilty words flitting through Abby’s head and she looked up at the Crane girl. Desma, Abby corrected herself. Desmera preferred Desma. She was holding the wool kirtle in her arms, the shade of green as lush and dark as the fields they passed through with red weirwood embroidery along the arms. The surcoat carefully folded on the table was half red and half blue and edged in silvery rabbit fur, among the other parts of her heraldic dress. She would not be in the wheelhouse as they came into Harrentown, and the parade that announced their arrival would be a large one. Already they had seen an uptick of traffic along the Kingsroad and the tents in the fields, the small inns filled to bursting the closer they were. With only a few hours until they approached the town, it was almost like they were approaching King’s Landing. Merchants were setting up along the way to hawk wares and Abby knew that the crowd would be thicker the closer they crept

The distant call of dragons echoed outside the tent and Abby and Desma poked their heads out the flap to crane their necks to look up.

“I can’t believe Ser Criston is riding dragonback with the princess,” Desma murmured, and Abby laughed. He had stayed behind with Helaena, and Abby knew it was to keep an eye on Jace. What Abby would have given to see the look on the knight’s face when he was told that he would fly with Helaena. Not even Queen Alicent had flown with her children, despite both Aegon and Helaena’s offers.

Abby knew how big dragons were, having been around them her whole life, but this was different. With no expansive sprawl of King’s Landing or the Great Sept to compare, they seemed even larger. Past the many tents of the camps, the moors of the Riverlands was all there was. No buildings, no great mountains or spires or monuments. Just the green, rolling hills surrounding the Kingsroad and the forest beyond.

Dreamfyre’s bulk was impressive, the blue and silver of her scales standing out in the morning light, her call warm and low, melodic in a way that was surprising for a dragon. Two smaller dragons were flying about, answering the calls, scales in shades of jade and bronze and silver as Jace and Baela danced around the great dragon.

There was another familiar call, the trilling echoing across the moor like a song. Abby’s heart swelled, hearing Aegon’s happy shout from somewhere inside the camp as Sunfyre gleamed as bright as the morning sun. How she missed him, how she missed being free in the air where nothing else mattered.

Desma tugged on her elbow, laughing. “Come back here, Abby, you’re still in your nightgown.”

Abby allowed herself to be pulled back in the tent, and was soon joined by Merei Thorne, who came bearing a plate of cold meats and bread and warm cider to break her fast.

“I’m ready to be done with all this mud,” she groused, dark hair loose and free about her shoulders, her swarthy skin flushed from the cool morning air. “Ser Rickard says the crowds up the road will be thick by the time we reach them.” Merei’s uncle was a member of the Kingsguard, and Abby was grateful that she had sought information before arriving.

She let herself be tugged out of her nightgown and a fresh chemise pulled over her head before Desma got her into the green kirtle and Merei shoved a piece of bread with ham into Abby’s open mouth. “Wylla’s sent word this morning with the rider.” Merei waved the scroll around. “Your rooms have been made ready, and Lythene and Sarra are settling in, so all you need to do is arrange things to your liking.”

Abby eagerly reached for the scroll as the girls laced her into the kirtle. It was a short message, but Wylla’s handwriting was comforting and familiar.

“Is Alys another one of your ladies?” Merei asked, moving the surcoat out of the way while Abby sat to eat. Desma opened the box of combs and ribbons and hairpins to get to work on her curls.

Wylla’s letter had mentioned help from Alys Rivers, and Abby shook her head before Desma pinched her to keep still as she carefully worked Abby’s curls.

“No, she’s a member of our household. A healer and sometimes ladies maid. She helped my mother when she was pregnant with me, but declined to come to the capital with us.” Her memories of the woman were fuzzy whenever Abby tried to look at them more closely. Dark haired with large grey eyes, Alys had been a fixture when she had visited Harrenhal over the years. “It’s good that she’s helping Wylla. I know Aunt Mya has her hands full with everything and my cousin, Deidre, is there to help.” Deidre, the future Lady Smallwood of Acorn Hall, had grown up at Harrenhal and would prove helpful in this busy time of preparation. Deidre’s younger sister, Cassana, lived at Runestone and would be arriving with Lord Yorick’s party soon.

Desma’s hands worked quickly to pull Abby’s curls from her face, winding a knot of braids along the back of her head, the rest curling down her back to her waist. It would be hours of riding, but also hours of being seen by the people who looked to Harrenhal, who looked to her family, as their liege lords. Merei pulled a delicate net of silver dotted with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds and pinned it around Desma’s delicate knotwork.

With her mother’s carnelian necklace around her throat, Abby shoved her feet into her riding boots and grabbed a last chunk of bread and ham before ducking out of the tent as her ladies oversaw the packing of her things.

The sea of black and red tents felt like a field of Targaryen poppies as she made her way through the camp. The ground was not as muddy as Merei complained, but Abby was nonetheless grateful for her sturdy boots. Already the grass was churning into a muddy mess in various places and she carefully stepped around them. Servants paused to offer quick bows and curtsies, which Abby felt awkward about. They did not need to pause in their duties to acknowledge her, but at the same time, it was strangely satisfying to be recognized, to be deferred to in some small way.

Abby was not sure how to feel about it, so she pushed the confusing feelings away and shoved the rest of her bread in her mouth.

She found Aegon where the horses were stabled, tethered to temporary posts and being fed their morning grain. The morning light turned Aegon’s curls a soft gold, his gray linen shirt tucked into a pair of high waisted, black riding pants, stripes of red embroidered with gold scales down the sides into a pair of tall, shiny black boots. He was without his own surcoat and she knew that it was just as ostentatious as her own heraldic gown: black and red and scaled as was the Targaryen way. She licked butter from her thumb as she approached, gaze raking over him appreciatively and the opened neck of his shirt, teasing the lightly freckled skin that she longed to kiss.

Kostōba was as brilliant as ever, pawing happily at the ground and rooting his nose against Aegon, clearly looking for more treats. His cream colored coat shone as golden as his master’s hair in the sun, brilliant against the caparison of red and black taffeta for House Targaryen. Aegon was busy stroking the snout of another horse, focused on checking the buckles of the halter and bit. The mare was a brilliant chestnut, so red that it matched her hair, it’s mane only a scant few shades darker. It pawed the ground beside Kostōba, nickering and also looking for treats.

“What’s this?”

Aegon turned, eyes wide as if he’d been caught, a sleepy smile on his face. She was no longer mad at him, of course, but the forced distance over their travels was frustrating, in addition to the misery of frequently having to sleep outdoors, no matter how comfortable the tents were. It made tempers shorter, and the stress of everything that was to come was fraying at her.

Aegon closed the distance between them, cupping her face in his hands, and the touch immediately had her shoulders relaxing and she sighed as he kissed her. Chastely, but it was Aegon and his teeth snuck in a quick nibble before he pulled back. She did her best to hide her pout, tasting the wine he’d had that morning on her mouth. Abby licked her lips, blushing at the look he gave her.

“Happy nameday!” he declared, gesturing to the mare. Abby blinked at him, owlish and momentarily confused.

“Nameday?” What day was it? Time had become an endless blur of bumpy roads and the creaking wheelhouse. He raised an eyebrow at her, taking her chin in hand and tilting her head to look up at him.

“It’s your nameday,” he repeated slowly as if she hadn’t heard him the first time.

Oh! It was, wasn’t it? She sputtered softly and he chuckled, pressing another brief kiss to her parted mouth.

“Happy nameday,” he repeated more slowly this time, snickering at her lapse of memory and dropping her chin to caress her shoulder and turn her towards the mare. “She’s from the same stock as Kostōba. Six years old and well trained. She’ll be gentle with you and give a hoof to the face of any who should try to pull you from her.” His grin brightened as he went on, lilac eyes crinkled in excitement as he glanced back at her. Abby could see the hope in Aegon’s face, the nerves and question of if he’d done well with the gift.

Kostōba snorted at Aegon’s shoulder, nudging at him more insistently. Aegon huffed and pulled another piece of carrot from the pocket of his black riding coat. Abby reached up to gently stroke the velvet soft nose of the mare and took the second carrot that Aegon offered. She eagerly took it with greedy teeth, and Abby giggled as the velvet nose tickled her palm.

“She’s beautiful,” Abby said, giddiness bubbling through her belly, swooping at the thoughtfulness of the gesture, and surprise at how exciting it was to be given a horse of her very own. “And she won’t buck me off?”

“Well you’ve proven to be a good rider already, on dragonback no less, though it’s different with a horse, obviously. And I think as long as you keep petting her and speaking to her sweetly as you do, provide plenty of carrots, maybe even some apples? Oh, I think you’ll be just fine.”

Abby scoffed, but her smile was bright. “Endless supply of carrots and apples and oats. Understood, my prince. I will endeavor to bond her to me.” The mare huffed softly as Kostōba’s head came near hers to bump it.

“They look good together, don’t they?” Aegon asked softly, casually.

“They do,” Abby agreed with a soft laugh. “She matches my hair.”

“Exactly. That’s why I picked her.”

“And your horse matches your hair.”

Aegon shrugged, cheeks flushed pink as he scratched around his stallion’s nose. “I have good taste. Do you like her?” There was a furrow now between his brows as he pointedly asked her, her words not doing enough to convey her thanks. It was a guileless thing - Aegon wasn’t trying to tease a deeper showing of affection from her in his usual, playful way. Abby handed him her gathered skirts and he took them, confused, and she reached up to cup his face with both hands, his skin warm against her perpetually chilled fingers.

“I love this gift, Aegon. No one else has wished me happy nameday, but you did, and provided me a thoughtful gift that I love very much,” she reassured him, teeth catching on her lower lip as the words visibly washed over him. She could feel the tension vibrating through him, as if he couldn’t quite believe she enjoyed the gift, or was waiting for something to drop, or a dozen other things. She felt him shudder and relax into her and Abby hummed, thumbs stroking along the apples of his cheeks. The furrow eased, the tension in his shoulders relaxed, his gaze grew softer as he turned his head slightly to nuzzle against her touch. Her belly was warm, fingers toying with the softness of his silver hair, affection surging through her. Abby pressed up on her toes to press a soft, innocent peck to his plush mouth. “I love you, Aegon.”

“I love you,” he whispered shyly as his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. Satisfaction and ease seemed to fill him as she pulled away and took her skirts back from his hold. He cleared his throat, tossing his hair back from his face and reached up to stroke the little white star on the mare’s forehead. “Now we can go riding together - properly have a good race.”

“You want to race? Well then, we’ll have to come up with some good wagers then, won’t we?” The prospect excited her, the planning for things they’d do once the wedding was over and they could just get on with the rest of their lives; away from the Red Keep, away from the politics and the eyes that constantly watched them, away from everything that chased them in waking and in sleep.

Another bright call sounded above them and they both looked up to see Sunfyre circling, his chirps and clicks echoing down to them. The mare snorted and backed away, shaking her head at the closeness of the predator. Two of the stableboys came hurrying over to help calm her. Abby backed away, not wanting to be too close should she rear up, feeling foolish that she was unable to calm her horse, let alone understand how.

“He missed you,” she said, and Aegon laughed, bright and happy as he always was when it came to his golden boy.

“He’s a smart one, isn’t he?” Aegon grinned. “I was��” He trailed off, uncertain, and Abby pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“He would not abandon you. That menace broke out of the dragon pit to get to you, remember?” Not that Sunfyre had caused any damage outside of freeing himself from his chains, and would not return until Aegon had gone to retrieve him before they were dragged back to the Red Keep all those months ago.

“He would most certainly not.” Confidence returned to Aegon’s voice and he cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting words of Valyrian and gesturing north.

Abby’s gaze drifted from the sight to look out past the horses to the rolling moors past them. The mist still hung heavy along the ground, slowly burning away as the morning grew, lending a murky sight of the forest that obscured the sight of the God’s Eye.

A twisting sensation spooled through her chest as she watched the trees. There were oaks abundant along the road, and as they drew north, there were pines dotting the landscape as well. But the great, dark forest beside them was different. The oaks here were giant things. Once, as a little girl, she’d ridden out with Harwin into the Red Wood. There were a few red oaks in the Harrenhal godswood - massive things that shot past the great height of the walls. Here in the forest surrounded by them, it felt like another world. The trunks of the trees were as big as the family dining hall in the Kingspyre. Uncle Simon said that the great round table had been cut from such a trunk.

Ancient trees that had survived the great heart wound of Harren the Black. Spirits lived in the weirwoods; she remembered those stories, and the ancient sentinels remembered too. They were here long before and would be there long after -

“Hey!”

Strong, warm hands gripped her arms and shook her. Abby blinked slowly, feeling tired and confused. Aegon was looking down at her; face pale, confused, annoyed. “What’s gotten into you? I was calling for you, Abby.”

“But…” As she meant to say she had not moved, Abby realized that she could not hear nor smell the horses, and that the sounds of camp were softer than they had been before.

“You kept walking and I thought you were going to show me something but then you stopped speaking,” Aegon went on, but his voice sounded odd - strangely muffled and then clear. She reached for him but her hand missed his arm and he reached for it, tugging her to him. “Abby, you’re freezing.”

She was always freezing.

The crowd was deafening and the drum beats of the parade only added to the din. The chestnut mare, now named Stranger, trotted smoothly beside Aegon’s stallion as the royal procession made its way through Harrentown. The scouts and messengers had not lied.

The crowd was large, not only the townsfolk but filled with those who had traveled far and wide to witness the festivities and hawk their wares. As they approached her family’s castle, the fields field with colored tents sporting the banners of the noble houses that had made their way to the God’s Eye.

Harrenton was not an exceptionally large town although little was when compared to King’s Landing. It was a trading post, a crossroads at the mouth of the Riverlands. Trade and travel that came south from Darry would stop here, as well as the trade from the south at the capital. The buildings were white stucco and plaster with the red oak timbers from the Red Wood, tiered three stories tall with steeply pitched, clay shingled roofs. Many of the ground floors were made from red bricks. Mud was in abundance here, and pottery and bricks were their foundations of trade.

Abby tilted her head up to the banners hung across the thoroughfare, the tri color streamers of House Strong interspersed with the black and red ribbons of House Targaryen. Those who could not find space along the red brick road hung out from the leaded windows, waving flags and banners, throwing out handfuls of flower petals from the winter flowers in swirling dances of pinks and purples, whites and yellows. Young children on their parents shoulders, too disinterested in whatever people were on display, giggled and reached to try to catch the petals. The people yelled for House Strong, they yelled for the name of her father, they yelled…

They yelled her name.

‘Lady Abrogail! Lady Strong! Princess Abrogail!’

Her cheeks flamed, her grin both shy and beaming, unused to the attention being paid to her. Abby glanced over at Aegon, who preened beneath his own attention, the petals that were thrown about the air catching in his silver curls.

‘Prince Aegon! House Targaryen! Lady Abrogail! House Strong!’

His lilac gaze found her, his grin broadening, all teeth and bright eyes, dimples creased in his cheeks. The breeze caught in her curls, fluttering the delicate silver veil around her face. The flower petals drifted and swirled between them, caught in his hair, in the silver and red manes of their horses, and everything felt like a dream.

Now they left the main thoroughfare and made their way up the switchback to where the castle loomed, and as they made the turn, the world dropped out as the vast, glittering expanse of the God’s Eye filled the horizon. Abby’s breath caught in her throat and beside her, Aegon audibly exhaled, momentarily halting his horse beside her to take a look. Behind them, Abby could hear Daeron’s exclamation of wonder.

The God’s Eye ate the entire horizon, glittering like an aquamarine gem beneath the cloudless blue of the sky. The only thing that interrupted the site was the distant, hazy sight of the Isle of Faces, obscured by the haze and distance.

“It’s bigger than the Whispering Sound,” Daeron breathed. “Uncle Gwayne-”

“Aye,” the elder sounded just as surprised, just as awed. “Large enough for the eye of a god, isn’t it?”

Seagulls called along with other birds along the banks and Abby could just make out a few fishing boats tiny on the water. She rose up in her saddle to take a better look, vowing that she would never tire of the spectacular sight.

“I didn’t realize how I missed this sight.” She laughed, unsure if she might cry from grief or joy.

“It’s the color of your eyes,” Aegon said softly, his gaze firmly affixed to the sight before them. He wasn’t even looking at her, just caught in wonder. It was a new expression for Aegon, and Abby was loath to draw him from it. She reached over and he must have seen her, or maybe he’d been reaching for her hand at the same time. “It’s endless, like the sky.”

He squeezed her hand and with a gentle command, their party continued.

Harrenhal was a scar against the landscape, the black stone stark against the green and blue of the landscape. With towers shooting up higher than the tallest of Maegor’s Holdfast, Harrenhal loomed as its maker always intended: Ominous and impossible to ignore. The twisted, melted stone that capped the towers were vicious reminders of the violence in the past, but life bloomed amidst the ruins. Sentinels and oaks, vibrant and lush, shot past the tops of the stone walls from the large godswood that butted up against the shore. Harrenhal held a small household guard and several called out from the gatehouse.

Making the final turn, their party was greeted by the half shattered statue of Harren the Black, only his legs and rearing mount left above the bridge. It started with stone and then switched to thick ironwood that spanned the dry moat beneath, and, as if to welcome them home, Sunfyre of all things perched above the gates like an enormous, golden hawk, calling out and declaring that this was now his domain. Stranger whickered nervously, hesitating in approach until Abby urged her on with a gentle hand against her neck.

“Seven hells,” Aegon muttered, barely caught over the sounds of the hooves on the wooden bridge and the creaking of the carriages behind them. Whatever else Aegon said was drowned out beneath the sound of Sunfyre’s trilling. The golden dragon was singing and it was a haunting tune that echoed along the stone like water over river rocks. The sound of it sent dozens, maybe even a hundred or more, bats bursting from the ruined tops of the tower. Distracted by the creatures that took to the sky, he pushed off the gatehouse, the horses rearing as stone debris fell in their path.

Abby looked at Aegon, eyebrows raised. “He can’t keep doing that.”

He frowned, half-offended and mildly concerned. “It’s not his fault the stone is crumbling,” he said, but the defense was half-hearted as he eyed the broken stone being pushed out of the way.

Aemond and Daeron, Ser Gwayne and a few of the Kingsguard followed them, the guards taking a station at the gate until the king passed through. The rest of the party in their wheelhouses were held back until the stone was removed.

The gatehouse was a great thing cut through the thick, black curtain walls. The way was lit with torches, the echo of the horses’ hoof beats giving an uncertain cacophony as the sound bounced around the tunnel. Abby’s gaze drifted up, the ceiling of the tunnel shadowed but she remembered Larys telling her the frightening tale of the dozen murder holes where they would drop oil and poisonous spiders and venomous snakes down onto those who tried to breach the castle. She’d had nightmares for weeks.

Aegon said nothing beside her, and the look on his face was one of bewildered interest. She bit her lip, a smile playing. He had only ever known King’s Landing, after all.

Tears pricked her eyes as the strange longing sensation that had harbored for so long in her chest eased. It didn’t go away, but she could feel the hooked edges of yearning, the grief, the feeling that she did not belong, that something was missing, smoothing out into something bittersweet. Beyond the great walls of the castle, Harrenhal was full of life. Beneath the great shadow of the ruined towers, a reclaiming had taken place over the years, and the notion soothed that bramble within her.

As the party passed through the gatehouse into the outer bailey, Abby’s eyes darted over the crowd that had begun to gather. Over the years, some of the ruins had been dismantled and turned into proper staff quarters. A new granary, the stables,meant to house a thousand horses, had partially been converted to a barn. Before them, the Hall of a Hundred Hearths loomed, rebuilt through the reclaiming of the ruined Tower of Ghosts, now only a few stories tall.

The focal point of the hall was the ornate, stained glass window above the colossal entrance. Along the top half of the circle, a weirwood tree was carefully placed, the red leaves a border around the top, the cream colored branches reaching wide, and the sun behind it sported the tri-color stripes of her family’s sigil. Below the roots was a mound with seven circles - each portraying the sigil of each aspect of the Seven.

The Andals had spread their faith when they had conquered, but here in the halls of her family’s seat, and through the Riverlands, folk noble and small alike found a faith made their own - to mourn the loss of the weirwoods in their subjugation, and the comfort found in faces old and new alike. Especially here, on the shores of the God’s Eye, where the last of the southron weirwoods still thrived, where whispers and tales of the Children of the Forest outside the North clung like moss to the stilts of the houses along the riverbanks.

Fluttering fabric caught her eye and Abby looked up to see the banners of their house strung between the towers, interspersed every two with the black and red House Targaryen, and every ten with the blue and red fish of House Tully, their immediate overlords. In the front of the hall, where the crowd was thickest, the short, white hair and broad frame of Uncle Simon stood out; he was clad in a rich, black coat, Aunt Mya beside him, her dark curls thickly streaked with silver, her gown red. Her cousins were there too; Garret, with his strawberry blonde curls, not much older than herself, holding his three-year-old daughter, Gwenys, just as ruddy gold as her papa. His father, Ser Edric, leaned heavily on a cane on the other side of Uncle Simon. As she went down the line, she caught sight of Wylla, clad in Abby’s colors in a gown of deep blue with a sash of green and red, beaming brightly beside Alyn Hull, who looked dashing in a jerkin of deep, blood red and black pants tucked into shiny, polished boots.

“Welcome to Harrenhal, Your Grace,” Uncle Simon greeted Aegon before his warm gaze found hers. “Welcome home, Lady Abrogail.” The title address to her felt odd, but this was a formal occasion. Two stableboys glad in House Strong livery reached for the bridles of the horses, Aegon dismounting easily as Abby frowned in slight annoyance at the yards of fabric of her surcoat. She’d shifted to side-saddle before they’d entered the town in preparation for an easier dismount but it was still daunting.

“Allow me, my lady.” Alyn was there, grinning at her, his green eyes soft and Abby returned his bright expression with a relieved one of her own.

“Thank you, Mister Hull,” she said, grateful, and let Alyn help her from the horse and set her safely on the ground. She caught Aegon’s brief annoyance at being denied his gallant moment and she patted Alyn on the shoulder. “We have some things your mother and a Miss Bri had sent up to the castle.” Alyn’s friendly expression moved to a grateful surprise, and she could see the red coloring his tanned cheeks.

“And I thank you, my lady. I am most appreciative.” Abby felt a giddiness at making a good impression with Aegon’s friend, and she left Alyn to embrace her great-aunt and uncle, uncaring if it was improper. This was her family, and even though she’d only seen a few of them not long ago, this was different.

This was a homecoming.

The warmth of her Uncle’s hug made her chest ache further, and Abby tucked her head beneath his chin, squeezing him tightly, eyes shut and for a moment, allowed herself to pretend that there was no pomp and circumstance and that it was her father who embraced her. Uncle Simon would never replace him, but he reminded her so much of him that she would not feel guilty for clinging to the memory. He seemed to understand, for she felt him squeeze her extra hard before releasing her with a paternal kiss to her forehead and then allowed Aunt Mya, who exclaimed, “A chroí! Tá cuma álainn ort,” before she was wrapped in a cloud of softness and the smell of lilies from her aunt’s perfume. Her hands, shaking slightly with her arthritis, carefully touched the veil she wore and the carnelian necklace around her throat. “You’ve got that Westerland poise to you,” she observed, and though the words might have been taken as a slight, there was a fondness there. “Like your mother and that Lefford blood, but oh, you’ve got the wild river in you, don’t you.” Her hands gently cupped her face, and Aunt Mya’s dark eyes shone with tears. “They haven’t taken that from you. Good.”

“It’s good to finally be home,” Abby said, her voice thick with emotion. Joy, sadness, grief, relief, and a swirl of other things she could not identify. She cleared her throat, turning in her Aunt’s embrace to gesture to Aemond, Daeron, and Gwayne who had dismounted. “May I present Prince Aemond and Prince Daeron, as well as the queen’s brother, Ser Gwayne.”

“Ser Simon,” Gwayne said, sketching a bow. “I hope you do not mind my squire and I joining the household.” His grin was bright and disarming, his hand coming to clasp Daeron’s shoulder. “My sister hopes for us to keep an eye on my nephew, but I think it will be a good opportunity for my squire to also learn from a renowned knight such as yourself, Ser.” Abby bit her lip to hold in her laugh, appreciating the look of surprise and pride on her uncle’s face. “And Lady Mya, these are for you.” He produced from his green leather riding jacket a carefully wrapped package. “Your lovely niece shared with me how you once loved lacemaking. While this could not compare what you’ve made, I do hope you find use for this.”

“From the lacemaker who made my wedding dress,” Abby chimed in as her blushing aunt took the carefully wrapped package of lace. Aunt Mya’s features shifted into amusement.

“Oh, I like this one, Simon. You can sit by me at dinner, Ser Gwayne.” Uncle Simon rolled his eyes while Daeron stepped forward, sending a look at his uncle.

“And I brought this for Lady Gwenys,” Daeron said, not to be outdone by Gwayne’s flirtation. He produced a doll from his own coat, made from soft linen with carefully made brown yarn hair, and painted blue eyes with a felt crown on her head.

“Thank you very much, my prince,” Garret said, shifting Gwenys in his arms. “Can you say thank you to Prince Daeron?” Gwenys’ eyes were large in her face, gnawing shyly on her lip as she snuggled into her father, unsure of what to make of all the strange people. Daeron held the doll up higher, taking the little hand to wave at the child.

“Hello, Lady Gwenys,” Daeron said in a silly voice, blonde hair falling into his blue eyes, his own cheeks pink at all the attention. “Will you be my new friend?”

That drew the little girl out of her shyness, bubbling with giggles and reached for the toy with grabby little fingers. “Fank you!” she shouted, squealing as she clutched at the toy. Abby felt Aegon at her back and shivered as he leaned down to brush his lips against her ear.

“Was I meant to bring a gift?” he asked, his whisper harsh with anxiety. Abby pressed her lips firmly together to hold back her giggle and turned into his hold, a kiss brushed to his cheek.

“You’re fine. There’s plenty of time. I think it’ll have more meaning after the wedding.”

Abby’s gaze briefly took in the arrival of the carriages that held the king and queen, and the small council absent Ser Tyland. He’d left court with her grandfather to Castamere where his wife, Elayna, was ready to give birth to their children. Twins had been born, according to the raven that Abby had received from her cousin, and Elayna was sorry she could not bring them, but it would be nice to see her. Lady Elayna preferred the freedom of Castamere, and Abby could not blame her, not when being here among the half ruin of Harrenhal had revitalized her in a way she could not describe.

The crowd all lowered themselves in deference as the king was helped from the wheelhouse. Travelling had been difficult for him, and the progress had taken as much time as it could in order to keep him comfortable. He clutched his cane, squinting in the afternoon sun, the light catching upon his golden crown. The expression on his pale, mottled face was difficult for Abby to read, and she wondered if he was thinking about the last time he was here, when the lords of the realm declared him king over Princess Rhaenys and her son.

Larys appeared from the next carriage with Lord Jasper Wylde and the Grand Maester, a placid smile on his own features. “Uncle, you’ve outdone yourself,” he complimented. Abby noticed then that her uncle’s smile tightened, no longer meeting his eyes as he regarded Larys.

“It has been some time since our house has something so wonderful to celebrate. Not since Abrogail’s birth, I think. After so much tragedy, these halls benefit from the festivities.”

“We are looking forward to them, Ser Simon,” the queen smiled, her hand fluttering to the king’s arm. “It has been a long journey, and the king needs rest and recuperation. We shall reconvene for supper?” It was not a request. Alicent Hightower could command with a smile, and all the authority afforded to her as the mother of the realm.

“Of course, your graces,” Aunt Mya said with a smile. She clapped her hands and there was a flurry of activity, the king’s wheeled chair being brought out while Uncle Simon explained they had easily accessible rooms for the king so his time here would be comfortable.

Then there was a flurry of raven hair and blue wool as Wylla’s decorum barely kept her from completely barrelling into Abby and she clutched her friend, embracing her tightly and burying her face into her shoulder. She smelled of cinnamon and spice, familiar and comforting.

“Oh, I’ve missed you,” she cried, Wylla giving her a tight squeeze.

“I’ve missed you too! You look beautiful.” Abby pulled back and Wylla pinched her chin with a playful look on her fox features, the little scar along her mouth pulling at the smile on her face. She pushed her hand away with a shake of her head, hooking their arms together.

“As do you! Is this a new dress?” Wylla hummed in the affirmative and led the way across the tightly packed gravel. Aegon and Alyn fell in behind them, and behind them, the rest of her ladies followed. The king and queen and the rest of their immediate party were being led into the closest tower - what was ominously referred to as the Tower of Dread.

It was where Athair and Harwin had died.

As she watched the king and queen enter the tower, something ugly curled in her chest. ‘Good’, she thought savagely, though altogether unlike her. She hoped the ghosts that slept there would haunt them. The queen would not treat her so unkindly if her father were still here. The king? Well, he deserved a good haunting. Let the ghost of Lord Maegor Towers terrorize him during his stay.

The main hall at the foot of the Kingspyre Tower was a bustle of activity. Servants in the House Strong livery hurried to and fro from the small kitchens beneath the tower, sending out refreshment to the new arrivals.

“As soon as we had word of your arrival, I had a bath readied,” Wylla said. “There’s the bathhouses, of course, but I thought you’d like some private time.”

“That does sound nice,” she sighed, heading up the staircase. The next floor above the hall held the galleries and the library. Precious things that her father had loved, and his father before him.

‘What if fire seeks to claim me here? As it had them?’

The fear was ugly and painful and squeezed the breath from her lungs with its sudden onset. Wylla’s voice was muffled in her ears as she stood frozen in the stairwell.

“In the black of night, the dragon did rise.”

“What?” she choked out, turning to look through the open doors of the gallery. It was not Wylla’s voice. Abby could not even be sure it was a woman’s voice. She tugged away from Wylla’s hold to the open archway but a firm grip on her arm tugged her back. Aegon stroked her cheek, drawing her attention back to him. Abby’s cheeks colored. “I heard… I thought…”

“It’s just the wind,” he told her.

“Unfamiliar sounds,” Wylla chimed in, coming to her other side, although her eyes narrowed at her friend’s discomfort. “Come, we’ll get you settled into the bath and you can lay down. A lazy lie in.”

Abby nodded, mouth shut as everyone stared at her with worry and confusion. Catching the brief look Wylla and Aegon exchanged, Abby tugged away. She felt judged, as she had felt that morning when Aegon had shaken her out of whatever haze had taken hold of her. It was one thing to have such a lapse in front of him, but now here she was in front of their household, so many eyes on her, confused and curious. Gathering her heavy skirts in her arms, she soldiered forward, desperate to get out of her gown. If she could, she would have stripped from the surcoat in the stairway itself, but she would have gotten tangled in the fabric and likely tumbled down the stairs.

What an auspicious start to the festivities; a tragic bride felled by a broken neck.

She ignored the call of her name behind her, climbing past Uncle Simon’s apartments and office to the landing of what had once been her mother’s rooms. They were rooms that might have belonged to Rhaenyra Targaryen in another life, or Sabitha Frey or Alysanne Blackwood, or any dozens of young women in the Riverlands her brother could have taken to wife.

None of this should be hers. This castle, these lands, were not her birthright.

They were drenched in ash and screams and the knowledge of this was grasping her tighter with every step she took before she burst through the doors of her apartments. Afternoon light streaked through the large doors that opened out onto the multilevel balcony that went from her rooms up to Aegon’s chambers. Beyond would be the beautiful sight of the God’s Eye, but for now, it was the brilliant blue sky and the roses that crept along the stone and woodwork. Low couches littered the space, plush rugs faded with age, and before the fireplace and its merry flame, was the large tub draped in linens and ready and waiting.

The shadows beside the fireplace moved and Abby stilled, fear freezing her limbs until the face of the shadow appeared. The woman was older, older than the queen, mayhaps, with inky black hair that hung to her waist, a square face and storm gray eyes. In her hands, she held a woven circle of twigs, and Abby looked at the stick figure coming to shape in the center of it.

“Lady Abrogail,” she greeted, her accent like Wylla’s, like her Aunt Mya’s. “Did you leave the rest of your chattering ducklings behind?”

Buzzing filled her ears and Abby pressed her hands to her chest, fingers knotting into the fabric. “I… I… I can’t breathe.”

“If you could not breathe, you could not speak,” the woman pointed out, discarding her wood weaving on the chair. She closed the distance and grabbed Abby’s hands. “You speak, therefore you breathe. I hear your gasping. So keep doing that.”

Hands joined the woman’s to help her out of the surcoat and work the laces on her kirtle. Her vision was dark and hazy around the edges and she continued to heave and gulp for air. She swooned and arms caught her.

“What did she say, Alys?” she heard Wylla ask.

“A tincture from my chest,” was the answer. “The one in the blue bottle. And the smelling salts.” Alys River tsked and her face shimmered before her as she backed Abby to the low couch. “If we shove you in that bath now, you’ll faint and are liable to drown. A bride felled by her bathwater. What a tragic end.”

Abby blinked, her mouth dry. “What did you…”

“Alys likes to be cryptic,” Wylla’s voice drifted to her through the buzzing in her ears. She let herself be shuffled around and moved as if she were no more than a ragdoll onto the chaise, her legs propped up higher than her head on a pile of cushions. Time passed in a haze as the dizziness and the rushing passed. Alys sat on the couch beside her, holding a goblet to her mouth and Abby grimaced at the strangely sweet and medicinal taste of the thin, red liquid. Her limbs tingled and the drunken feeling gave way to a more relaxed sensation. Alys’ large, slate-gray eyes filled her vision and the elder woman tilted her head, appraising her.

“I cannot call you Little Lady anymore, can I?” she asked, but Abby didn’t think it was much of a question. “Although, you are still littler than me, wee beast.”

“Oh, so she calls you that as well?” Wylla’s voice drifted from somewhere behind the couch. “Do you feel like you can get in the bath now?”

Alys helped her up and held the goblet to her mouth once more, feeding her the strange liquid. “Someone should tell the princeling that his lady is all right, I can hear him pacing.”

“Hear him?” Sarra Frey’s voice chimed in, confused. Abby smiled wanly at Wylla as the elder girl helped her out of her chemise and into the tub. The water was still plenty warm, but not the scalding, steaming heat that it had been from when she first came into the room. “But he’s so far away.”

“You’re just not listening close enough,” Alys said and passed her the goblet. “Make sure the coinín beag drinks all of this.” The door shut behind the woman and Abby settled against the back of the tub, Wylla’ pinning her hair up.

“Doesn’t Aegon call you little rabbit as well?” she murmured against her ear.

Abby did not answer.

The confused look the servant gave Jace when he asked where the family crypts were was not something that would normally bother him, but there was no reason that Prince Jacaerys Velaryon should be asking where the family crypts of his host were.

The look in Ser Simon Strong and his wife’s eyes upon seeing him still stuck with Jace, and he tried not to keep looking over his shoulder as he strode down the gravel pathway through the family gardens. Torches were lit along the pathway, servants and guests still milling about, and the gardens were beginning to bloom as the seasons shifted. Lady Celeste’s mountain roses crept like a great, dark beast, along the outside of the Kingspyre tower, up to balconies above. Jace stole a glance up there, at the distant, flickering light behind the windows.

Abby should be here. She should be with him. This was more her family than his. Did he even have a right?

Jace straightened.

He did. He did have a right. Ser Harwin was someone in his life he cared for, who cared for him and his brothers. He had been gentle and kind - to them, to their mother.

Ser Simon looked at him as if he’d seen a ghost.

Goosebumps bloomed beneath Jace’s black tunic. Perhaps he was one.

The Sepulcher of House Strong was largely underground, but the entrance to it was a stone gazebo, just over a story tall, with seven stone pillars carved to mimic the twisting boughs of the weirwood trees. The branches held up the circular roof, the torchlight casting long shadows over the carvings of strange creatures. There was no door, simply smooth stone stairs leading into the torch lit crypts beneath.

At the foot of the stairs were a pair of doors, heavy ironwood etched with more of the weirwood motifs and little creatures that Jace realized from this close distance were meant to be the Children of the Forest. They were different from the drawings he’d seen in his books. These were spindly things, some with fins in place of ears, with large eyes and sharp little teeth. He reached to undo the latch but the door was partially ajar. Had Abrogail come down to pay her respects? Should he leave and return another day?

His mother would be here on the morrow, and as soon as Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen set foot in this place, Jace’s chance to come here would be lost.

The door made no sound as he pushed it open to slip inside and he blinked as his eyes tried to adjust to the deeper gloom. Braziers affixed to the pillars were spaced out every few dozen feet or so and as he quietly walked the path his ears could just make out the distant sound of rushing water, though he had no idea where it was coming from. Stone tombs were erected every few archways, and he paused in front of the tomb of Maegor Towers before he caught sight of the dragon relief nearby.

Targaryens were not entombed, they were burned on pyres, back to flame and ash from whence they came. But Harrenhal’s last lady was honored here.

In the stone alcove, a beautiful carved relief of Dreamfyre stood, raised on her legs, wings spread and her neck arched to call out to the sky. At her feet was a pedestal with an urn in the shape of a dragon egg.

Rhaena Targaryen, Queen of the Rising and Setting Sun. Mother of her beloved Aerea and Rhaella. Beloved by Prince Aegon, where their souls meet once more.

To always Chase the Sun.

The crack of a cane hitting the stone echoed violently along the walls and Jace choked on dusty air, panic taking over. The next tomb was that of Lord Osmund. There was just enough room to duck behind it and Jace crouched behind, his heart pounding in his ears.

“You are kind to accompany this night, Your Grace. I confess, when I extended the invitation, I was not sure you would accept.” The low voice of Lord Larys drifted through the quiet ghosts, otherworldly beneath the earth himself. Your grace… was grandfather also down here?

“Lord Lyonel was a good man,” the king rasped, his voice shaky with emotion. “The best of us, I think. No better servant to the realm than he.”

“Surely you yourself are the realm’s greatest servant, my king.”

“Mmmm, Lyonel offered good counsel. I did not listen to him as much as I should have.”

“My father served the realm with all the wise counsel of a Grand Maester and the knowledge of one of your vassals, my king. In the end, however… Even beneath his great wisdom, matters of succession were well out of hand.”

Heat burned along Jace’s neck and rushed into his cheeks. He pressed his face against the cold, stone tomb but it did little to calm him.

Driftmark. It always came back to Driftmark. It came back to screaming and blood. It came back to his words. Yes, the words of a child, but his words that he knew, without question, would prevent punishment.

‘He called us bastards.’

With such a simple sentence, Jace watched, clutched in his mother’s arms, as the king’s ire went from Aemond’s wound to the accusations that had chased Jace and his siblings all their lives. Words that he knew were cruel, that upset his mother, yet words that spoke true. Lord Lyonel had stood, struck and silent beside the Driftwood throne, and Ser Harwin had lingered by the door, unarmored and disheveled given the late hour it had been. As old as he was now, Jace knew. He knew. He knew.

Ser Simon had looked at him as if Jace were a ghost.

Jace reached up and gripped the edge of the tomb of his blood, feeling the burn of Vermax inside of him with every beat of his heart, loudly thumping in his ears.

“I did not want it to happen that way, Larys,” King Viserys finally spoke, his voice mournful and heavy.

“I know, my king. Only a Targaryen can truly master the dangers of flame. Mere mortals such as those who strove to follow your wishes could only wish to wield such understanding.” The sound of scraping metal grated on Jace’s nerves. He hit his head against the tomb and had to shove his fist in his mouth to keep from crying out.

“Only Ser Harwin-” the king began and then stopped. Jace could see the long throw of their shadows along the stone floor. They weren’t moving.

“Whatever tragedies befell, they have brought us here, my king. Have the wounds not healed as you had hoped? Your daughter and brother arrive here with their children after their long absence. Our houses will be joined in only a few days. The match you and my father discussed so many years ago is now far more advantageous, as is right, for the King’s first born son, given the unusual circumstances.”

“Perhaps you’re right, Lord Larys.” The scrape of two canes now. Jace pressed himself as far into the shadows as he could, straining to listen as the two men made their way back up the corridor beneath the eyes of the dead. He dared not breathe, he dared not make a single sound for fear of what might happen were he discovered. It felt like an eternity before the door shutting reverberated through the quiet.

Jace sat on the cold ground, frozen and still as Dreamfyre’s statue. His heart continued to pound in his ears as he tried to process exactly what he had just heard. King Viserys, a peaceful man, so afraid of any confrontation that his mother fled to Dragonstone to hide than maintain her presence at court. She’d sent him to do it for her.

He couldn’t escape the catacombs fast enough. His feet slipped along the damp stone as he raced towards the entrance. Ser Harwin would forgive him, he was certain. Now? Now, he needed to get away as fast as possible. He tripped hard up the stone stairs, his left knee and shin screaming in agony before he made it up and forced himself to slow down so as not to attract attention. What would it say to see the king’s heir racing through the gardens of Harrenhal? Jace’s lungs ached and he kept trying to remember to breathe. All he knew was that he had to get away.

How could he hold this? Should he tell his mother? What would she do? Nothing. She’d do nothing, forbidding them - forbidding him from speaking of Ser Harwin. Did he tell Abby?

It would destroy her.

Should he - Jace slammed into a figure, sending the two of them sprawling to the gravel.

“What the fuck, Jace!” Aegon snapped, aggressively shoving him off. He too was dressed for night in his own gray linen and breaches, dark circles beneath his eyes. It struck Jace, hard between his ribs, how much Aegon looked like Jace’s own mother in that moment. How much he sounded like his own mother. Jace’s palms scraped against the gravel and he heaved a breath. “What?” Aegon repeated.

Another breath and Jace felt the words strangling him, and could feel the tension in his face as he looked at his uncle, his childhood playmate, with wide, lavender eyes. Aegon stared at him and whatever annoyances were on his tongue fell. His brow furrowed. “What is it?” he asked again, less sharply this time.

Jace gulped once more for air and heard Aegon mutter something about panic attacks before the elder manhandled him up to his feet and towards one of the benches. “Get your head between your knees before you pass out,” he snapped, hand on his back to push him forward. In spite of Aegon’s annoyance, his touch was gentle, if firm.

Also like his mother.

“Breathe, you idiot,” Aegon said and sat down beside him, hand between his shoulder blades. Jace did as he was told, falling into the way things once were, where Aegon led and Jace happily followed. They could never return to those days, and Jace did not wish for it, but Seven Hells, it had been easier.

He did not know how long they sat there, listening to the lowing of dragon calls outside the walls and the shrieking of bats, the distant sound of water fowl amid the rushes outside the castle walls. He breathed in the cold air, let it ebb at the fire in his blood. He spat on the ground and finally sat up, aware that Aegon’s hand did not leave him until Jace settled against the bench.

“You said something but I couldn’t understand,” Aegon ventured with his brows raised in exaggerated curiosity. The quiet of the night filled the space between them, the gaps left when things had reached such a breaking point.

It always came back to Driftmark.

“The king…” Jace whispered, heat burning in his eyes. “T-the king, he… ordered the deaths of Lord Lyonel and… Ser Harwin.”

So... that was an ending. As always, I love that you're here, but the only way I know you're reading is if you comment! Comments let me know people are reading and are actively interested! So I'd love to hear what your favorite part of the chapter was, what your theories are, OR If you have no idea what to say, drop a tree emoji to let me know you were here <3 I promise, I'm glad you are. ALSO! I would LOVE to hear how you found this story! Was it through the AO3 search? Tumblr? Did someone recommend it? (if so, where?) (we might end at 24 chapters. I'm not quite sure yet, I'll have to see how the next few chapters go for pacing as I don't want to inundate y'all) Shoutout to @queen--kenobi for allowing me to borrow the lovely Elayna Reyne! Baby girl is here!

[ Next Chapter ]

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cloudmancy · 4 months

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which is worse: d20 tumblr or d20 twitter?

this is such a funny question. frankly I prefer talking with my existing friends over discord over either of them but here's a breakdown of my experience with them

d20 tumblr

feels like a more isolating experience because of the way tumblr is set up in general as a platform. I follow relatively few people here, so all my interactions are from people engaging with my art (love you mwah) or asking me questions. nearly every time I go into a d20 related tag I regret it

I think frankly I disagree with 90% of the opinions on d20 here but because I don't have to see it I can just post my art and go

feels relatively static like there's not a good way to get everyone talking about a specific transformative fandom thing instead of only what's happening in canon because it's a looser more disconnected community

allows for longer posts and the search system on my own blog is great though. I love directing people to go through my tags or archived art

d20 twitter

incredibly, astonishingly, bad at recognizing jokes for people who are fans of a comedy show

way easier to interact with people which means most of the friends I make are from d20twt...

very easy to get everyone talking about one specific thing (ie fhsonas) because of how interactive Twitter is as a platform and how quickly word spreads

downside of this^ is that every time I express an opinion someone disagrees with they tend to assume that this is a majority opinion rather than like, 3-4 popular gay asian artists speaking their mind? when I complained about fhjy 18 battle on here I got interesting and thoughtful reblogs and everyone kept it respectful meanwhile on twitter people started making vaguetweets about how people who hated the episode were morons. stuff like us joking that oisin's grandma's whole mahjong group got murked getting 200 likes VS people directly shitting on us getting 1.7k likes and people going "wait... people are mad about oisins grandma for REAL?! she was going to kill people !!" getting 2k likes. clearly there is some sort of strange authority people put on your words whether or not you're actually just trying to have fun with your friends

I did talk about this more on twitter but I am not a fan of the CRitterfication of d20twt either. feels like much of the fandom is now watching because they're megafans of the cast rather than for the story which leads to some really big toxic positivity bias and the implication that criticism of the show == direct attack on the crew and therefore on THEM because parasocial attachment. I don't think it helps that for a majority of them d20 is their first big fandom experience aside from like... kpop or tswift because they have not developed a lot of the detachment from canon + not being parasocial + ignoring opinions you don't like if they're not directly addressed at you mechanisms that people who've been around have. sorry I'm not trying to fandom elder or whatever here I'm 21 years old but I think it's incredibly hard for me to interact with people whose entire understanding of canon depend on siobhan thompson's opinions like this

tldr;

d20twt has way less reading comprehension and critical thinking skills. better for making friends. I interact almost entirely with 30-40 of my artist friends. (my) d20tumblr experience is more chill and feels like I'm doing a seminar and people come up to ask me questions afterward. more isolating but easier to do my own thing. I do recognize and am fond of a lot of you but I've made one (1) entire friend who I can talk to off platform and not just see on the dash/my notes and that's just the nature of how tumblr works as a platform (it's terrible for conversations)

#asks #anon #long post

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trensu · 23 days

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do you think you'll put "Stasis in darkness" on AO3 eventually?

see, when the idea first came to me, I hadn't really planned on doing anything with it because I wasn't sure if I could make it work. there's a level of gravitas in the relationship between a god and their devoted servant that I didn't think would translate well to steddie because, let's be real, those boys are goofy dorks. but the idea wouldn't leave me alone so I typed up the original post in an attempt to work it out of my system and move on.

(the post kind of blew up, which I was not expecting at all!! like, not even a little bit! i post all sorts of rough little ideas for my own amusement and I've been able to do that without drawing much attention until that point.)

Anyway, I wouldn't have done much with it but @acowardinmordor left some comments/tags/what have you that helped me nail down the setting in my head which really opened the door for me to explore how the story could progress. (apologies, strife, I'm not sure I ever properly thanked you for that burst of inspiration, so please accept this shoutout as an expression of gratitude). And the amazing @ent-is-indecisive allowed me to rant about it which really helped flesh out the story. Seriously, there are elements and lore coming up that would not have existed if it weren't for ent. (and thank you once again ent for the ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL fanart you made for the reveal scene, I'm still overcome with joy whenever I think about it!).

Once it got to that point, I knew I wanted it to be a self-contained story and I was afraid that if I did a multi-chapter fic I'd lose the thread and never make it to the ending I want the fic to have. (no, the end scene hasn't been written yet but I KNOW what it's going to be and I hope everyone will love it as much as i do). So I promised myself that I was not going to post it on ao3 until the whole thing was written out completely.

However, I occasionally need a confidence/motivation boost so I've been posting consecutive parts of the rough draft here. you have no idea how much the people who reblogged with tags or left comments have helped me fight off the discouragement my brain likes to bog me down with; off the top of my head, @godsweakestboy , @redfreckledwolf, @fuctacles , @spectrum-spectre , and @lawrencebshoggoth have given me lovely, enthusiastic words of encouragement. and they're only the ones I can think of at this moment. there's so many other people who've done this, so if you've ever left me nice tags or comments, please know that I've read every single one of them repeatedly whenever I need to get over a slump. I'm so grateful for all of you!

Anyway, all this is to say yes! It is going to be posted as a oneshot on ao3 once I've finished writing it. <3

#trensu replies #trensu tells stories #stasis in darkness #okay you probably didn't need that whole rant in response to your very simple and straightforward question #the response got away from me a bit #ill admit it #its just that i kinda feel bad that i cant work on it as frequently as id like #for one thing i didnt have a laptop for the last two or three months #but mostly it's because i have carpal tunnel and a full time job that requires i type for most of every shift #this means that writing fic usually results in me experiencing quite a bit of pain if i let myself write for as long as i actually want to #hows that saying go #the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak?#so it might take a while before the fic makes it to ao3 but it WILL get there sooner or later #(and there's still one or two more chapters i need to write to finish off the second installment of hawkins halfway house on ao3 also oof)

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the-24-7-lawlu-library · 8 months

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Hi! Just read this fic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/33748141) and the post that inspired it (https://ladycrimsonandblack.tumblr.com/post/658164849325604866/brawltogethernow-brawltogethernow-tama-gives), and was wondering if you knew any other fics where Luffy is a Fae or a Changeling or just not really human? Thanks!

Hello ! Sorry this took us a while, as it seems there are very few fics that fall under that category, but here's what we've got for you:

The closest that comes to mind is :

Wild Wind At Dressrosa by khepiari (M)

[Mod notes: I am personally recommending this one as it is set in a world of magical realism. Luffy is not explicitly a magical creature, but there is certainly a certain magic and mystery surrounding him, which gives this story a whole air of surrealness and fairy tales.]

Doflamingo has troubles- to govern Dressrosa, collect taxes for the King, a womanizing Secretary, a stupid Brother, an angry Wife and a Rebelling Son who is romancing the Biggest Troublemaker- a Wayfaring Godless Curio-Shopkeeper, who is storming the calm streets of Dressrosa. Law's heart is hell-bent to unite with the Wild Wind called Monkey D Luffy- a tale of food, books, friendship and love.

The Moonwitch And His Dumb Werewolf (also) by khepiari (T)

A.U., Fantasy. Happy Ending. Three Part. LawLu (Switch Couple) When his village gets burned down and family captured by the bounty hunters, a young werewolf pup, Luffy, finds himself in the protection of a witch boy named Law and his father Corazon. As the war ravages, the magical creatures must unite to fight their biggest enemies; humans.

Perfect Completion by quackquackcey (E)

Water sprite Luffy curiously happens upon a gathering of vampires and falls at first sight for a certain golden-eyed vampire…but will his feelings be returned?~

A Crown of Flowers by @hyperbolicreverie (M)

The Wild is a mirror, a magic realm of possibility parallel to the mundane one, and people like Luffy, changelings who've made a devil's bargain for power, walk the line between worlds daily. When Luffy makes a mad dash to rescue his brother from certain death, he sets off a chain of events that makes the very foundations of that realm shudder. Soon, he's got several other people along for the ride, and the situation quickly spirals out of control. There's something the people in power aren't saying, and it might be the key to all the strange events that keep happening around them. Luffy just wants adventure and fun and freedom. Law just wants to be left alone to live his life. Kid wants to never be beholden to someone else again. And Ace just wants some goddamn agency for once. But there are other entities in the Wild with agendas of their own, and they don't care about what others want at all.

How To Snare A Life by xairylle (E)

Accidentally ensnaring a parasitic sexual demon and being his host wasn't exactly how Law wanted to end his night or his life for that matter. LawLu/LuLaw.

A Fleeting Moment (When the Sun Can Kiss the Moon) by purplehairedwonder (T)

Once upon a time, the Sun fell in love with the Moon.

[We also recommend checking the #Sun God Luffy tag for godly Luffy material.

And finally, not Fae Luffy, but we'd like to recommend Fae Law]

To Give You My Name by cosmicatta (M)

Trafalgar Law, last of the faes, had committed a fatal mistake 15 years ago: he had given Doflamingo his full name. Now, even after having escaped, the looming threat of his ownership still follows Law everyhwere he goes. He can only try to survive as a runaway, hoping to, someday, find a way to cut the invisible string tying him to his former captor. Until he meets Luffy. He’s just a regular human. But maybe that’s all Law needs.

And, ofc, the one you recommended:

waters of the wild by ladycrimsonandblack (T)

Even to his nakama, Luffy sometimes appears just a little bit too odd. (Or: Five times a Straw Hat notices something strange about Luffy, and the one time someone knows what's going on.)

We're also happy to tell you that your ask prompted some of our writers to give Fae Luffy a shot, so expect some new fics under that tag soon enough.

-Mod Gigi

#Fantasy AU #explicitly lawlu #vampire AU #werewolf AU #sun god luffy #sun & moon #lawlu #lulaw #lawlu fanfic #lawluffy #monkey d luffy #trafalgar law

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urbanqhoul · 10 months

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Weather report~ Special thanks to ConConnuggetVA (Voice of Whimsy) and @sillywabbits who voiced cloud 9~

Also click keep reading for a ramble about my future plot for content revolving around Whimsy's universe its important if ya care about the story shit but I didn't wanna leave it in the open cuz its a lil long u3u

RAMBLE TIME- When I first starting making these video's I wasn't too focused on the storyline cuz they were just for fun and practice making video's after not doing so for so long but after some rolling around in thought I decided I wanna give it a biiit more of a fleshed out/thought through story now that I've had time to really think about and develop the world. (and all the people who've been watching/commenting on these video's keep me really motivated to develop it- thank you all of you I really really appreciate it<3) I've been doing some pondering about what direction I wanna take it just to give it a more properly storyline and I have settled on one SO There will be proper storyline episodes mixed in with the random just for messing around episodes and I'll probably give those the specific tag (on youtube its whimsy's rem world but on here I'll probably give it something like WrW story??? idk) to separate em :3 (And give em a separate playlist for organization/claritys sake) The story will be altered from the original shorts so there will be continuity diffs between the two since this'll be a more fleshed out version.

#whimsy's rem world #wrw whimsy #wrw cloud 9 #oc whimsy #oc cloud 9

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britt-kageryuu · 2 months

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The stream is pretty quiet today, Leo is reading fan suggested fanfiction again, though he's not reading them out loud this time. His model is in dressed in his unicorn onesie again, and holding a tablet, seated on a blue inflatable chair, on the beach set.

The current story title, series, and genre, is on screen with tags/warnings along with chapter and word count.

Some instrumental music is playing in the background to fill the silence while everyone reads. Though some who don't want to read are just playing games in the chat, like a MOD or River/Shelldon posts a set of emotes/emojis and the chat guesses what they mean/translate them. While some are literally just watching Leo's model 'read' something on the tablet.

Leo every now and then pauses to makes some comments about the story, talk about the cliches and tropes, makes guesses on what might happen next, or complain about something with the authors writing style that just bothers him for some reason.

A notification suddenly goes off, but it's not a stream notification, it's coming from Leo's phone that is being picked up by the mic. Leo grabs it, and his model freezes up as he reads over what the notification was for.

He puts down the tablet and phone, and quickly gets up, leaving the range of the camera. The microphone just barely picks up random noises, some clattering and shuffling, but not clear hints about what's happening. Not even from River and Shelldon are telling anyone what's happening.

A number of minutes later Leo returns to the scene, and just collapsed into his chair.

"Well everyone. I was just given the news that ours Pops is a bit under the weather. Don't worry he's not going to have any health crisis. This is a fairly standard sickness that hits him this time of year." Leo pauses to take a quick drink, "We're pretty sure it's because of the weather, and the main reason I'm still here, and not heading home. Is because Pop's reaction to the cold and his medication leaves him a bit... how do I put this... Loopy? Maybe?"

Leo seems to be thinking it over, "Like he gets hot flashes and will walk around in his underwear while blasting the AC, he'll start telling us random stories that sound like he's writing Lou Jitsu fanfiction, he becomes Stupidly clingy, and he will at times act like a ninja, and either avoid us, or ambush us around the house." He lets out a sigh of frustration, "I've been trying to make some medicine to help him, but it doesn't have much effect, and once made it somehow worse."

The audience is very confused, because they can't tell if Leo is telling the truth or trolling them again. Especially since some who've done medical research/studies have never heard of this combination of behaviors with any form of sickness, let alone with medicine involved. Only other substances.

Leo picks up his tablet, and starts messing with the layout on the stream. "So since I don't know how long this will last, I'll be adjusting the stream to keep going until I get word back from Dr-Dad how Pops is doing. Now this isn't necessarily a Sub or Donothon, but as you can see." He brings up a menu style list with prices or a progress bar next to different activities, "You can send bits, or donations to choose what I do for the next who knows how long."

Suddenly his phone is going off with multiple notifications.

"That's just my Siblings. Red is staying with his GF, though Dee, and Mandarin might join me later. It all depends on how their plans go." Leo says all this with a slightly dismissive tone, and ignoring his phone.

The audience just kept speculating, but got no answers as they watched Leo jump around a few different activities, and sometimes check his messages.

-----------------

Masterpost

Yes, Splinter still gets the Rat Flu. Leo tried to make a medicine to help, but it didn't really work.

#VTurtles!#rottmnt au #tmnt au #rottmnt leonardo #rottmnt leo #rise leonardo #rise leo #rottmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction #rottmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2018 #rise tmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt rise

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amberlynnmurdock · 1 year

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Blind Faith (Ch. 12)

Chapter Twelve: Losing Faith

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Matt and you go to the bar dinner, where you meet one of Matt's old colleagues.

A/N: I'M BACK WITH AN UPDATE! I'm sorry it took long! I had my birthday and then things got really busy! I'm excited for this chapter because we finally introduce the villain of the story...ahh, it only gets crazier from here. Thank you all who've read and stuck with this story, I'm really loving writing it <3

Tags: @starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynn @mattmurdocksstarlight @marvelcinematiquniverse @hailey-murdock (please let me know if you want to be tagged/if I missed you!)

Ao3 Link

gif is from https://emziess.tumblr.com/

Nelson & Murdock

With Karen away and Foggy at a wedding with Marci, it was only you and Matt this Friday—the Friday of the bar dinner, which Matt was taking you as his plus one.

All day, the two of you seemed to be strangely avoiding the topic. You’d drop off files at Matt’s desk and quietly walk away. He’d open his mouth to say something and then tell you never mind. Matt decided to skip lunch and get a head start on work for Monday, while you stepped out to grab a sandwich. It wasn’t awkward at the office—just more tense than usual. You weren’t even sure how you’d be getting there tonight—if Matt was picking you up with a driver or you were getting a taxi by yourself.

It was nearly two in the afternoon, and neither of you had brought it up yet. Even though it was tonight!

You sat at your desk with a pencil in hand and a brief in front of you. You mindlessly drew scribbles in the margins, thinking of all of this, when suddenly Matt came out of his office. His tie swayed gently in front of him as he reached out to feel for the doorway. His eyes were hidden behind his dark red glasses. When he stopped to talk to you, you smiled at him.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey,” Matt replied. “I was uh, thinking—about tonight.”

“Oh yeah, me too,” you replied perhaps a little too quickly.

Matt gave an uncomfortable smile and scratched the back of his neck. “I was just on the phone with Foggy—he said it was alright if I got a driver for us on the firm card. Takes us there and back. That is if you don’t already have plans of getting there.”

“No, I don’t have plans,” you answered. “I figure it makes the most sense if we go together, right?”

“Right,” Matt affirmed. “Well then, I’ll call the company now. Maybe be ready by six? It’s pretty slow today, without Karen and Foggy. I was thinking we could close early so we can get ready.”

You perked at the mention of the office closing early. “That works for me. Sure, I’ll be ready by six.”

“Great, I’ll order the car then,” Matt was about to turn away, but you stopped him short.

“Don’t you need my address?”

Matt laughed uncomfortably, “Oh right, yes. What is it?”

“West 45th and 11th,” you told him. Matt nodded in response and went back to his office. After he made the call, Matt said you could go home to get ready.

“Do you need me to do anything before I go?” You asked Matt once more before heading out. He sat at his desk, laptop open and Orbit reader on. Matt shook his head.

“Just get home safely, that’s all. I’ll be at your apartment at six with the driver,” Matt smiled. You smiled, knocked on the wall of his office as a goodbye, and left for home.

You were thankful Matt let you go home early, because boy, did it take you a long time to get ready. You already had your dress laid out, but it was the decision of hairstyle and makeup that took you the longest.

After a long while of scrolling Pinterest for hair ideas and makeup looks, you finally decided that simplicity was best. You’d blow out your hair and curl the ends for an effortlessly natural look. For makeup, you decided on a very, very soft glam.

Never mind your hair and makeup—it was your dress that was the star of the show. When you picked it off the rack, you thought nothing of it. You loved its dark red color and leg slit, square neckline, and thin straps. But it wasn’t until you tried it on, with your hair and makeup done, that you really thought you made the right decision in choosing it.

The dress fit you flawlessly—it hugged every curve of your body, and it cascaded beautifully at your waist with the slit teasing a glimpse of your skin. You twisted from side to side to see it from each angle. And despite feeling beautiful in this dress, despite having an opportunity to meet other lawyers in the city, you couldn’t help but wonder what your savior would’ve thought if he saw you in this dress.

Immediately scrapping the thought away, you checked the time. It was a half hour to six—Matt would be here soon.

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

Your friends were getting ready for their own night out in the city and they wouldn’t let you leave until you took one tequila shot with them. Hannah was the one who suckered you into doing it—she said you needed to loosen up before schmoozing with the big shots. You took one small shot of tequila, enough to calm your nerves for the evening.

Then, your phone vibrated in your purse. Matt Murdock.

“Hello?” You shushed your friends as they began to laugh.

“I’m here with the driver,” Matt said on the line, “are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you slipped on your black heels and waved goodbye to your friends. “I’ll be right out.”

After you entered the elevator, you glanced at yourself in the dainty mirror. You normally felt a rush in your chest when you went out with your friends, but this time, the rush was different. You weren’t going out with your friends, so you were absent of that familiar feeling. It was a rush that reminded you of the times you’d meet your savior on your roof. A feeling you’ve missed over the past few weeks. No time for thinking of that.

When you stepped out of the lobby, you were surprised to see Matt through the doors of your apartment building, standing in a tuxedo against the door of the car. He had his cane in his hands in front of him, and his head was tilted down toward the pavement. When he heard you open the door of the building and the bell chimed, he looked up behind his dark red glasses and stood up more straight. Matt smiled, and you weren’t going to lie—he looked quite handsome in his tuxedo, so much that his smile could’ve made you melt right there.

“Thanks for getting me,” you said, breaking a small silence. “You look really nice, Matt.”

Matt seemed taken aback by your compliment. He stammered with his thank you and smiled again.

“Thank you,” he finally said. “Let me get the door for you.” He turned around and opened the car door, letting you inside. You walked carefully in your heels—it’s been a while since you’ve worn them—and you almost slipped on a pebble, had Matt not quickly grabbed your waist and steadied you. His hands felt warm and strong through the thin fabric of your dress. You gasped as you grabbed onto his arm to pull yourself together.

“Sorry,” you breathed.

“It’s okay,” Matt said softly. “I’ve got you.”

You stepped into the large black car and settled in the seat. You smiled at the driver who smiled at you in return through the rearview window.

“Well, don’t you look awfully pretty,” the older man said. Matt climbed into the car on the opposite side and smiled. “Doesn’t she look—“ and when the driver remembered Matt’s disability, he shut his mouth. Matt chuckled in response and told him it was okay.

“I’m sure he’s right,” Matt said after some time and you were on your way to the dinner.

“Hm?” You hummed in response, caught off guard.

“That you look pretty,” Matt explained, cane folded and resting in his lap. He fiddled with the strap at the top. “I’m sure you look very pretty.”

Your heart grew in your chest at this, the sweetness of Matt’s words and tenderness in his voice, almost shy. You smiled to yourself.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you argued gently. You didn’t want him to feel compelled to compliment you—you weren’t fishing for compliments. “You don’t—you don’t have to—“

“I mean it,” Matt interrupted you. “I—well, what kind of dress are you wearing? What color is it? I can… paint a picture in my mind.”

You paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. It probably meant a lot to him, to describe little things like this. And he seemed genuinely interested. Who were you to refuse?

“Well, my dress is long. It has a slit on one side. It has a square neckline with thin straps. It’s a dark red color. Almost maroon. I love this color,” you said the last part aloud, not meaning to.

“I’m sure the color looks beautiful on you,” Matt said.

“Thank you,” you blushed. “I love it.” You started to wonder… and you remember Matt mentioning an accident in the past, but had he always been blind? And as if he read your mind, Matt spoke up again.

“I haven’t always been blind,” he spoke quietly. “It was an accident from when I was a kid. So, I know maroon. If you’re wondering.”

“I was,” you said honestly. He hummed in response.

After a few more lights and a couple more blocks, the driver finally pulled up to the venue of the bar dinner. You looked at the stunning building in amazement behind the tinted windows of the car.

“Are we here?” Matt asked.

You nodded your head. “I believe so.”

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

The Bar Dinner

Walking up the steps to the venue was half the battle. It was like nearly every attorney and law firm in New York City was at this event—crowds of people lined the steps, people coming in and out to have a smoke on the terrace or meet colleagues. You and Matt finally managed to make it past security and joined more guests inside.

You were hit with an immediate mix of colognes and perfumes—men dressed in fancy suits and women dressed in extravagant gowns. You were relieved to see their gowns—you were afraid your dress was too much—but clearly, it wasn’t enough. These people all seemed to know each other, whether they were colleagues from law school or opposing counsels—it seemed they left their differences in the courtroom. It was apparent that you stood out like a sore thumb, being one of the youngest people at the event. Many of them were older folks or Matt’s age.

You quickly scanned the crowd and found no one as young as you—fresh out of college and only studying to get into law school. You felt your heart rate pick up and suddenly felt very self-conscious. You felt Matt’s hand touch your elbow for guidance.

“Should we get a drink?”

“Yes,” you said, almost too quickly. There was an opening at the bar, and you guided yourself and Matt to it. All the bartenders wore the same thing: white button-downs and black vests. Men had their hair slicked back and women had their hair in a bun.

You approached the bar and ordered yourself an espresso martini, while Matt opted for Macallan 18, neat. It was apparent both of you were ditching your normal orders from Josie’s, and for good reason: neither of you would be spending a dime tonight.

Matt leaned on his elbow at the bar and faced you.

“So,” he said, “What do you think so far?”

“I think I feel really out of place,” you confessed. “There are so many people here and they all look so…”

“Pretentious?”

“That sounds about right,” you giggled. “Yeah.”

The bartender placed your drinks at the bar, and Matt reached into his back pocket to leave a tip. Suddenly, you both heard someone call Matt’s name.

“Mr. Murdock,” a light, feminine voice called. From behind you came a tall woman, older, with a pixie cut and black hair. She wore a simple yet elegant black dress that had an open back, as opposed to the full coverage it gave up to her collarbone. To pair, she wore oval gold earrings and gold bracelets to match. “What a pleasure,” she said. She placed a soft hand on Matt’s shoulder and squeezed a bit before returning it to her side.

“Geri Hogarth,” Matt instantly recognized her voice with a smile. Your eyes widened at the name of Hogarth and you nervously sipped your martini.

“How’s Franklin?” She asked Matt as she sipped her own drink. You were curious what a prestige attorney chose as a beverage—it actually didn’t look like alcohol at all. Maybe a Diet Coke?

“Foggy’s doin’ well. I think he’s happier being back in the streets,” Matt chuckled.

“He was so good for us, but I know that’s where he belongs. With you,” Geri added with a warm smile. She spoke so eloquently like she took her time to speak every syllable of a word. And when her dark brown eyes fell on you, you found yourself standing a bit taller, with your shoulders back. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.” She stated.

“This is __,” Matt introduced you to Geri. “Our new legal assistant.”

“Ah,” Geri smiled at you and held out her delicate, freshly manicured hand. “It’s a pleasure. You’re in good hands at Nelson & Murdock, __.”

“Oh, I know it,” you agreed, beaming at her. “I really love it. I’ve learned so much from Matt, Foggy and Karen.”

“And are you thinking of law school?”

“I’m studying for the LSAT now,” you told Geri proudly. She held your gaze so carefully—you couldn’t break the eye contact.

She laughed and looked at Matt. “I sure don’t miss studying for that test.”

“I agree,” Matt smiled. “But __ is very smart. She’ll do better than us. She’s really impressed us all.”

“Really,” Geri raised her eyebrows, interested. “Well, Ms. __, if you ever choose to leave Nelson & Murdock and you’re interested in something different, let me know.” Geri reached into her small silver purse and pulled out a business card for you. You took it gratefully and immediately tucked it into your own bag.

“Stealing my legal assistant, are you?” Matt joked. “She’s ours.”

The way Matt said this made your heart skip in your chest. You played it off cooly and laughed. You smiled at Geri.

“Wow, definitely. Thank you, Ms. Hogarth,” you said amazed.

“Call me Geri,” she said. “It was lovely to meet you. I’m sure I will see you around.” With one last squeeze of Matt’s arm, Geri went off into the crowd. You looked at Matt in disbelief.

“I can’t believe I just met Geri freakin’ Hogarth!” You said excitedly. Matt chuckled and took a sip of his Macallan.

“She’s a great woman, great attorney,” Matt nodded. “It’s nice having a connection like that. All thanks to Foggy, though. Before we started our firm again, he was there for a while.”

“I had no idea,” you shook your head, “and she calls him Franklin?”

“That’s his real name,” Matt smiled. “We know him as Foggy, of course.”

“Listen, Matt—I’m not leaving yet, but rest assured I’m keeping Geri’s card for the future.”

“By all means,” Matt raised his hands in surrender, “but don’t leave us yet. We need you.”

“Oh, please.”

“It’s true,” Matt nodded.

“Well, you guys came at the right time in my life, too.”

Matt finished the rest of his drink. With his senses, he picked up that you were almost done with your martini. He gestured in your direction.

“Another espresso martini?”

“Please,” you said softly.

Matt ordered another round of drinks for you both and cheered with you.

“Do you want to schmooze with more pretentious lawyers of Manhattan?” Matt asked.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

Schmoozing was so easy—comical, but easy. Many, if not all, of the groups of men you and Matt decided to join, were drunk and on their fifth or sixth drink of night. And the dinner was only an hour in. Matt put his grievances with you in a box in his mind and tucked it far away to be able to enjoy this charade with you. He laughed behind his whiskey glass as you gassed up the drunken men who bragged about their mediocre wins in court. These men just loved to talk, and you loved to pretend you loved to listen.

Matt listened carefully to your heart beat—it was beating faster than normal, probably because of the loud setting and alcohol, but from the way you spoke with airiness in your tone, and your laugh, he knew you were happy right now. Happy to be at this event. Perhaps even happy with him.

You seemed to notice Matt listening carefully. He stood with his hand on his cane, the other holding his nearly empty third glass of Macallan. You boldly strutted over to him and grabbed Matt by his forearm, leading him away from the group of men without saying goodbye.

“What’s wrong?” Was Matt’s first question to ask on instinct. You were pulling him away, and he was too focused on you to pick up on if anything was going wrong.

“Nothing,” you giggled softly. “I just got bored. Let’s bother the next group.”

Matt laughed and nodded, finishing the last of his Macallan. You finished your martini as well.

“Actually, before then, let me get us some drinks,” you suggested, feeling the alcohol swish in your system. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

When you took the glass from Matt’s hands, your fingertips brushed against him, and an undeniable feeling of connection spread across both your palms. He wanted to ignore it, but he couldn’t, your touch was so distinguishable. It reminded him of how depraved of it he was.

“Okay,” Matt said, a serious demeanor falling over his entire body. For a moment, he was reminded of all he put you through. He was reminded of that dreadful night on your rooftop when he yelled at you, all because you wanted to know the truth. And here you were, with no idea that it was him. What would you even say?

It didn’t matter. You were on your way to the bar, pushing past people and politely smiling your way through. It was no doubt so many of the people would love you. You were charming, one of the younger attendees of the crowd, and so ambitious. Matt waited patiently and listened to your heartbeat so he knew you arrived at the bar safely, even if it was only a few feet away. He closed his eyes behind his dark red glasses and listened as you ordered both your drinks.

Even from here, he could smell your perfume. It was new, he noticed. With notes of pomegranate, musk, and magnolia. It was enticing. It stirred something in Matt, something he had to seriously stop thinking about immediately.

And then suddenly, like a dark stormy cloud quickly rolling over fields, a stronger scent of cologne overtook your scent from Matt’s senses. It was a disgustingly overwhelming cologne with notes of amber, woody, and lavender. Nauseating. Overbearing. It completely covered your scent from his senses. And when he heard that oh-so-familiar pompous voice over the crowd, speaking to you, Matt froze in place.

Oh, no.

“What is a beautiful young lady like you doing at an event with a bunch of old head lawyers?” The pompous, masculine voice said. Matt hadn’t heard that annoying voice in years, not since he and Foggy left their job at Landman & Zack. God, Matt couldn’t stand his presence, his obnoxious attitude, and his greed. He was Matt’s age, son of a partner, son of thee Zack, an ungrateful, conniving person. It was Zachary Zack. Yes, that really was his name.

“A beautiful young lady like me is trying to order drinks,” Matt heard you say in return. He wanted to smile at your quickness but he couldn’t. He stood in place, listening from afar.

“I see you’ve got two drinks there,” Zach said. “Are you here…alone?”

“If you read the invitation carefully, it said two representatives from each law firm were invited. So no, I’m not alone.”

“I don’t assume you date your boss, do you?” Zach joked. Matt’s grip on his cane was so tight, he was sure he broke open his cuts again.

“No,” you answered curtly. “I don’t assume you date coworkers, do you?”

Zach let out a laugh, placed a hand on his chest. You took a good look at the young lawyer and raised a suspicious eyebrow. He had tan skin—he seemed like the type to spend summers in the Hamptons—and sandy blonde hair. He was wearing a three-piece suit and a giant gold watch on his left wrist. You hated that you found him attractive.

“Smart girl,” he smiled a bright white, dazzling smile. “Thank God you’re not a coworker.”

And to Matt’s dismay—no, his fear—you smiled in return. He didn’t have to see it to know you were smiling, he knew it by the way your heart picked up and you let out a laugh through your nose. It was telling, it was happening, and there was nothing he could do about it. Unless…

Matt started to make his way to the bar, tapping his cane in front of him, ignoring the shoulders he pushed through and elbows he dodged. When he finally reached where you stood, he could sense every muscle in Zach’s body tightened as he too recognized Matt Murdock after all these years.

“Murdock,” Zach announced like he was a game show host, “never thought I’d see you at one of these fancy events. Never seemed your style!” It was a poor attempt at friendly conversation, and Matt knew his true intentions. Still, Matt smiled in return and held out his hand.

“Is that—Zachary Zack?” Matt pretended to guess, to be shocked he was running into a former colleague. And of course, it worked.

“Sure is, buddy,” Zach said through gritted teeth. He shook Matt’s hand and gave it an aggressive squeeze. Matt pulled his hand back and gripped his cane.

“__,” Matt said your name, “This is Zachary Zack. From—“

“Landman & Zack. Come on buddy, I can introduce myself—wait, Murdock is your boss?” Zach said in disbelief. You smiled, amused at this interaction.

“Yeah, he is,” you said. “How do you guys know each other?”

“We uh, used to work together at Landman & Zack,” Matt explained. Zach nodded and caught your eyes—his eyes were so blue. He seemed goofy, in a strange way. You couldn’t tell if he was a douchebag or just a really loud man. Regardless, his energy did something to you—intrigued you.

“Until Murdock and his buddy—what, Foggy?—decided to start from the ground up and build their own firm. Gotta say it was pretty respectable to leave a big firm like that. To take a risk,” Zach seemed to calm his demeanor when Matt came over, something Matt picked up on immediately. He was trying to impress upon you. Matt didn’t like that. And his fake compliment was really him saying he and Foggy were idiots for deciding to start their own firm, but the joke is on him.

“Oh, you know, we learned a lot from you guys. What to do and what not to do,” Matt mustered a smile.

“Hmm. So, your name is __?” Zach returned his attention to you. You grabbed Matt’s hand and gave him his glass of Macallan.

“It is,” you said, meeting his eyes. “Nice to meet you, Zach.”

“Tell me, are you in law school? Studying?”

“I just graduated with my pre-law degree from New York University.”

“Impressive,” Zach smiled. You liked this calmer demeanor from him, it was more friendly and seemed genuine. “Are you thinking of law school?”

“Of course,” you nodded. “I’m studying for the LSAT now.”

“Ah, the LSAT,” Zach said wistfully. Matt clenched his jaw. “I remember those days. Hey, if you ever need help with it, I know some people on the Board who write the questions. I’d love to have you come to the office one day and I can show you some tips. I, uh, kind of scored a 173 on the test.”

Matt rolled his eyes behind his dark red glasses. I scored a 175.

“Really?” Your interest was piqued, by not only his offer of help but also an invitation to another big law firm in the city. “I’d love that.”

“Here’s my card,” Zach reached into his pocket and handed you his business card. It was thicker than Geri’s and had silver font. “Actually,” he interrupted and pulled out a pen, “here’s my personal number.”

You raised an eyebrow and squinted your eyes. Zach raised his arms in defense, “I just want to help. Seriously.”

“Alright, Mr. Zack. Thank you,” you smiled. Zach smiled in return. “It was lovely meeting you, Ms. __. I hope you do call me.” His attention fell on Matt again, and his expression turned hard.

“Well, it was nice seein’ you Matt—you’re not offended when I say that, right? Ha, just kidding buddy,” Zach playfully punched Matt’s shoulder, but Matt stood as still as a statue. He conjured a smile as best he could and loosened his grip on his cane once he knew Zach was far enough away.

Matt exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You flipped Zach’s card in your fingers and read, and re-read his name. He was a partner at Landman & Zack. And he invited you to reach out to him.

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

In the car ride home, Matt was awfully quiet. Maybe the alcohol had finally settled in him, maybe he was tired. You kept fiddling with Zach’s card in your hand, reading his numbers written out just for you. You looked over at Matt whose gaze was out the window.

“Did you have fun?” You asked him softly, feeling the liquor settle in you.

“Yeah,” Matt said—he pressed his lips together in an attempt to smile. You couldn’t help but shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“Did you?” He asked after a bit.

“I did,” you looked at Zach’s card in your fingers. Your savior came to mind out of nowhere. His smile under his black mask, his voice low in your ear, his fingers caressing your body…most of all, his words that promised so much, his words that gave you so much faith. The more you looked at Zach’s name, the less faith you had in your love for your savior. It was like watching a home you used to live in slowly fade into the distance. You couldn’t help but keep watching as it got smaller and smaller until it was completely out of your sight.

It was time to move on.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil #charlie cox #the defenders #daredevil born again #karen page #foggy nelson #blind faith #marvel #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #charlie cox x reader

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talesfromaurea · 1 year

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[Image ID: The front and back of an aged-looking book cover. The front features two dragons, one white and one black, forming a vertical infinity symbol and the title "Tales from Aurea". The back has the following summary: "It's the end of an era and the land of Calthia is descending into ruin... Amidst a backdrop of crumbling empires and dwindling magic, four unlikely companions come together with a shared goal: helping a mysterious young girl named Kaja stay hidden and find her way home. But when it comes to light that Kaja's elusive people are the only ones with the power to destroy the demonic forces dragging Calthia into darkness, suddenly all eyes-friend and foe-are turned their way." /.End ID]

We're back!!

After a long hiatus, I'm coming back with a new and improved draft of Tales from Aurea that you'll be able to read for free. Come join the Pathfinder party 🥳

Genres: Action, Adventure, Fantasy, Supernatural

Themes: Coming of age; justice and revenge; duality and balance; facing fears; free will versus determinism; dealing with trauma, loss, and grief

Sources of inspiration: Slavic mythology, Pathfinder/DnD, The Elder Scrolls, the Zelda series

Features: Largely LGBTQ+ cast, focus on platonic relationships, found family, a fantasy setting based on ancient Rome and surrounding kingdoms

Content warnings: violence and blood (no gore), character death, discussion of topics including imperialism, genocide, and slavery

Where can I read?

Chapters will be serialized on Royal Road (link), with an excerpt and announcement shared here on tumblr! Haven't worked out what kind of schedule yet but you can follow on Royal Road and/or request to be on the tumblr tag list to keep up with news 😊

Where can I learn more about the characters, story, etc?

I think this "what to expect" tag provides a good overview. You can also check out my "pathfinder talk" tag here for everything I've posted including drawings, excerpts, and general rambles.

I read the last draft, should I read this from the beginning?

Yes! As well as writing improvements, this draft contains more character development and new details. I'm also planning on carrying this into future arcs that were never posted to tumblr before.

Ask to be added to the tag list and thank you for reading!

One time tag for a few folks who've shown interest in the past: @aroyalpaininthecass, @drippingmoon, @harps-for-days, @splashinkling, @ashen-crest, @star-soupp

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #fantasy writing #wip intro #more like reintro but ya know #pathfinder talk

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askcapital · 9 months

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Happy New Years!

It's after midnight here in Argentina, so I can do this.

I just want to thank this community in general for being so cool. <3 You're all an amazing bunch, and I'm happy to be a part of this little corner of the internet. I've met a lot of wonderful people (that I'm too shy to tag, you all know who you are) who've made my askblogging experience simply delightful. I've made so many wonderful friends, some of whom have helped me during my lowest points of the year, and have inspired me to reach new heights in my art.

I also just... wanna thank everyone that's read my blog. I have honestly hesitated continuing this blog, since I have never thought people would like/enjoy Capital the way I do. but as it turns out... a lot of people do! most of you know how important this purple bastard is to me, so to have taken the leap and found out that you enjoy them and the story I'm telling has made me so, so happy. <3

I'm thankful for anyone that's ever talked to me, befriended me, even sent an ask or interacted with me in any way. You are all wonderful and I appreciate you all so much <3

here's to another year of askblogging, of drawing and arting, of writing and plotting, of making friends and chatting! I love you all so much! take care and I hope 2024 is excellent to you all

#ooc tag #expect a new years drawing tomorrow #I could honestly draw anything I could want but I'm most likely going to just draw Capital again lmao just you wait

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 10 months

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Only the Strong Survive Ch. 6

Series Summary: Lexie Weston is in a terrible, abusive marriage. In her mind and soul, she feels like she has no way out that won't result in her death. But something changes in her life to make her take the risk. Can she rely on Sheriff Beau Arlen to protect her like he said he would, or will this risk lead to ruin?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x OFC (eventual)

Series Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut, Angst, Fluff throughout. A pretty slow burn, TW: Abusive marriage, Domestic abuse will be talked about throughout. Chapter warnings will be more specific

Word Count: 3,348

Chapter Summary: Y/N is starting to realize some exciting and scary truths.

Chapter Warnings: Not many in this chapter. Brief mentions of abusive relationships, and hard times.

A/N: So, this next chapter took almost an entire year to get out to those of you who've been enjoying this series. I apologize profusely, and can only blame it on my cruel muses, who stalled this story in my brain. But I'm very grateful to those of you who said kind things about the story and said you were looking forward to the rest. It's encouraging to have people say they want to hear more. (In a friendly, kind way, of course.) So thank you, and I don't think the next chapter will take another whole year. (Like six months, tops. 😜 JK! JK!)

Hope you enjoy Ch. 6!

P.S. This song features in the chapter - To Make You Feel My Love and I've linked the version I was imagining here. (Minus the cheering crowd, and with a singer I love EVEN more than Garth Brooks.)

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @saradika

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Lexi stood in front of the full length mirror and shook her head at her reflection for the dozenth time that day. She felt ridiculous.

“Ooh, you look so cute!”

Cicely Travis was beaming as she came up behind Lexi to squeeze her shoulders. The young, tall, brash, and outspoken woman had become a good friend to Lexi in the months that she’d been staying at Haven House. She was a decade younger than Lexi, but seemed to have lived four lifetimes in her mere quarter century of life.

The women had shared some of their hardships with each other, but certainly not all, so Lexi only knew that Cicely had run away from home at thirteen to get away from her mom’s boyfriend, and that she’d spent some of the years since as a sex worker. It was one of the things she’d told Lexi right away.

“I was a hooker and a stripper.” Cicely had told her out of the blue on only their second meeting. When Lexi had just blinked at her for a moment, Cicely had explained. “I’m not any more, but I like to tell people that right off, so that there’s no misunderstandings or issues down the road. I did what I did, and I’m not ashamed, so, if that’s gonna stop you being a friend, then I wanna know that now. You know, save us both time.”

Lexi had just shaken her head and shrugged. “I don’t care.” She’d said honestly. “We all survive and exist the best we can. Sucks being a woman sometimes.”

Cicely had snorted. “Damn right, sister.”

Since then the women had bonded over some shared hardships and the general shittiness of most of the men they’d known. Cicely had also been there for her as Lexi had proceeded through four more court dates over the last two months.

She hadn’t been asked to speak again, thank god, but the judge insisted on all her written and recorded accounts being read into the record. So four times she’d had to sit in the courtroom and listen to Marsha read out her words describing the abuse, or else listen to her own timid voice coming through a tinny recording as she recounted years worth of trauma.

And every time, after getting a ride home from Beau complete with his encouragement that everything was going to work out, she went to Cicely’s room to commiserate about the day and to admit just how scared she was. She never wanted to admit her fears to Beau because she didn’t want to burden him more than she already had. But also, she didn't want him to think she was just this scared, trembling thing.

He’d called her a warrior, and she wanted him to keep believing that.

But Cicely would listen, and then trash Simon and the judge and Simon’s lawyer endlessly. It felt very therapeutic to Lexi, and Cicely often made her laugh with her slightly crude, but always hilarious sense of humor.

She was the perfect kind of friend for Lexi; someone non-judgmental, who was so brash and loud, and talkative, that it became impossible for Lexi to stay quiet and shy. Cicely just pulled her along in the conversation no matter what.

Now the younger woman smoothed down the back of the blue polyester robe that Lexi wore, before stepping in front of her to beam at her.

“This is so stupid.” Lexi said for the hundredth time that day. “I look like the world’s oldest high school graduate.” She rolled her eyes.

Cicely shook her head. “Nah, don’t be silly.” She pulled the graduation robe tight across Lexi’s baby bump. “You look more like a knocked up teenager.”

Lexi couldn’t help snorting out a laugh. She slapped Cicely’s hands away and let the gown fall back loose.

“Seriously,” Lexi continued, “I can’t believe they're putting on this whole thing. It feels like a bit much for passing a GED test.”

As she finished and before Cicely could respond she looked into the mirror and saw Beau and Jenny saunter into the tent.

“Oh my god!” Lexi cried as she spun around to face them. “What are you doing here?”

They both smiled and Jenny gave her a hug. “We’re here to celebrate you graduating, of course.” She answered as she stepped back beside Beau.

Lexi felt her cheeks go crimson. “Oh, for pete’s sake, I’m not graduating.” She shook her head. “I passed a test.”

“Lexi, this is a big deal. You should be proud of your accomplishments.” Beau argued while Jenny nodded.

Cicely gently bumped Lexi in the shoulder with her own. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her all day. We deserve to be celebrated!” She turned her head towards Lexi. “You listen to this beautiful man when he tells you things. He’s obviously very wise.”

Beau gave a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you.” He turned to Jenny and tapped a finger against his temple. “See, what have I been telling you? Wisdom.”

Jenny rolled her eyes and continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “Seriously, Lexi, this is definitely worth celebrating. And to that end, the station is hosting a little graduation party for everyone this evening. Six o’clock, at Beau’s trailer. The land is beautiful, and there will be a huge bonfire to ward off the chill, and amazing BBQ and drinks.” She smiled at Lexi. “And sparkling cider for those of us who can’t partake.”

Beau looked at Lexi, understanding in his gaze as he obviously caught the trepidation in her expression. “There will also be more than a dozen cops there, so you’ll all be very safe.”

Lexi was amazed sometimes how easily Beau understood her. He seemed to read her mind at times, and he always knew just what to say to make her feel better, or feel safe. It made her happy and nervous at the same time. She could feel the way her heart was responding to him, could feel the way her body responded to him too.

When he was close to her, she always wanted to lean in to him, always wanted his arms around her. She remembered the way it had felt to give him an innocent kiss on the cheek, and now when she looked at him, she was uncomfortably aware of his mouth and how she'd been mere inches away from feeling his lips under hers.

At one of her most recent doctor’s appointments, the doctor had informed her that many women notice an increased libido during the second trimester, and warned her to make sure if she had sex to use a condom as being pregnant didn’t stop her from getting an STI.

Lexi had blushed, but told the doctor there was no chance of that. But she was blaming the increased libido for why her heart raced, and butterflies flew wildly in her belly every time Beau was near.

She didn’t know very much about sex outside of her marriage. She’d slept with three guys before Simon, and none of them had been exactly earth shattering. Of course, sex with Simon had started out as nothing special and turned into a nightmare. Thankfully in the last few years of their marriage, he hadn’t been much interested in her, and he had very little ability to get it up, so she’d at least been granted that small mercy.

So, this was the first time she’d ever felt this kind of strong attraction to someone. It was slightly overwhelming, so she was definitely blaming it on the hormones racing through her blood while also trying desperately to ignore it altogether.

Jenny gave them final details about the after party and then she and Beau hugged Lexi and Cicely quickly before going to take their place in the high school gym that was hosting their small graduation ceremony.

After they were gone, Cicely whistled slowly. “Je-sus CHRIST, that man is fine!”

Lexi choked slightly on her laughter. “Cicely!”

The other woman gave her a look. “You telling me you don’t think so?”

Lexi shrugged. “That’s not the point. He’s our friend. He’s been very kind to me.”

Cicely frowned at her. “So? That makes him LESS attractive?”

Lexi rolled her eyes. “I just mean, I don’t wanna talk about him like that.”

Cicely snorted. “There’s nothing wrong with appreciating beauty where you see it. I’m telling you, if I thought I had a chance in hell of pulling him away, I would be all OVER that man.”

Lexi felt her heart plummet. “Pull him away? I thought…” She cleared her throat. “I thought he was divorced. I didn’t realize he was with someone.”

Cicely looked at her like she was nuts. “You can not possibly be that obtuse.”

Lexi frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Cicely rolled her eyes. “What am I…? Girl, that man is so far gone for you it’s almost pathetic.”

Lexi’s eyes grew huge. “What are you talking about? Are you crazy? He’s not interested in me like that. He’s just a kind person. He’s a friend.”

Cicely gave her a deadpan stare and Lexi waved at her dismissively. “You’re crazy.” She said again.

Her friend shook her head. “Lexi, seriously. Beau is kind and friendly to me. He’s kind and friendly to his co-workers, to Sarah, to the other women here. But it’s not the same. When he looks at you, his face gets all…gooey.”

Lexi snorted out a laugh. “Gooey? Beau Arlen is not gooey about me.”

Their conversation was interrupted when Sarah poked her head into the room. “Okay, ladies - showtime! Everyone out in the hall to line up.”

Lexi smoothed down her gown and moved towards the door, but Cicely held her back a moment. “Okay, just pay attention tonight, at the Barbeque. If you pay attention, I know you’ll see it. And I say when you see it, baby, jump on it.”

Lexi shook her head and followed Cicely out the door. Her friend was wrong, imagining things. She knew it. Beau didn’t think of her as anything but a friend and someone he was trying to keep safe.

That was all…right?

***

The women and their children were shuttled over from the high school to Beau’s in a rented school bus, and when they all arrived - the party started.

Beau’s land was very beautiful, Lexi thought. It was situated in a valley with a stunning view of the mountains all around. When they arrived around six o’clock, the mid-March sun was already sinking in the west, being swallowed up by the peaks in the distance. It was a perfect night, though, slightly warmer than usual, with no wind, and a huge bonfire to throw off plenty of heat.

The kids all immediately started a game of tag in the field, and left their moms to chat and mingle with each other, the deputies, and the Haven House staff in attendance. The atmosphere was jovial and celebratory, and despite herself, Lexi began to feel excited and proud.

Not long after her arrival, she met Beau at the grill. He was laughing and joking with everyone, proclaiming he was king of the grill. As she watched him tease Deputy Poppernak, she shook her head at Cicely. She was crazy, Beau was this way with everyone.

But then he spotted her standing in the crowd and his face did…change. She didn’t know that she’d call it gooey. But his eyes definitely lit up, and he left his precious grill to come up and give her a hug.

“Lexi, you looked so great up on that stage! Congratulations!”

She hugged him back, closing her eyes and trying to get Cicely’s words out of her head while also trying to ignore the way Beau’s strong arms felt locked around her. She inhaled his cologne and the butterflies were back. He pulled out of the embrace and she smiled at the ground.

“Thanks, it was a really nice ceremony.”

“Congratulations.” Said a voice from behind her and Lexi turned to see a teenage girl walking up to stand beside Beau. “How hot are those polyester robes? I want to dress accordingly when I graduate next year.”

Beau chuckled. “Lexi, this is my daughter, Emily. Em, this is Lexi Weston.”

Lexi shook her head as she took Emily’s outstretched hand. “It’s Howard again, actually.” She looked at Beau. “Marsha is helping me with the paperwork to change back to my maiden name.”

He nodded and smiled softly. “That’s great.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Howard.” Emily said politely.

“No, please, it’s really just Lexi. And it’s so nice to meet you too. You know your dad talks about you all the time.”

“Oh my god, how boring for you.” Emily said with a pained smile and an elbow to her dad’s ribs.

Lexi laughed lightly. “No, I like his Emily stories, he’s helping me prepare.” She explained with a hand on her baby bump. In the last couple of weeks it had become an honest to goodness bump, obvious unless she was wearing something flowy. The t-shirt she and leggings she wore now did nothing to conceal it.

“Oh, good.” Emily said with a grin. “I love when he tells baby stories about me. It’s not embarrassing at all.”

Lexi laughed, and Emily reached up to kiss her dad’s cheek. “I’m gonna go organize the kids into lines to make s’mores.” She looked back at Lexi. “Congrats again.”

She bounded away and started the kid round-up. Lexi smiled and moved to stand beside Beau and watch. “She’s really great. So smart and capable.” She said as she watched the young girl effortlessly get the kids in line, and enlist the deputies to haul the s'mores making ingredients over to the bonfire.

Beau’s smile was all pride. “Yeah, she’s pretty incredible.”

Their attention was wrenched back to the barbeque as Poppernak called to Beau. “Hey boss, as king of the grill, you might wanna come figure out where all this black smoke is coming from!”

***

A couple of hours later most of the people had gravitated to sit around the big bonfire where it was warmest. There were dozens of chairs set around it, and lots of blankets to share.

Cicely and Lexi were almost in each other’s laps, curled up on a big adirondack chair under a thick wool blanket. They were very toasty, and Lexi was loving the peace and contentment she felt as she just listened to the soft rise and fall of conversations around her, the laughter that would break out occasionally, the sleepy voices of little ones in their moms’ arms, and the sharp crackling of the sweet smelling wood as it burned.

A couple of seats away Beau was leaning towards Cassie and talking animatedly with his hands. She couldn’t make out his exact words, but she liked to watch his expressions; he was so animated she could almost guess at the conversation.

He said something to make Cassie laugh and then he looked up and caught Lexi’s eye. His smile turned soft and he winked at her. “Comfy over there?” He asked a bit louder.

Lexi nodded happily. “Very.”

“Good.” His smile lingered a moment before his attention was snagged by Emily.

Cicely pinched Lexi lightly and cleared her throat. “Goo-ey.” She whispered conspiratorially.

Lexi slapped her friend’s thigh under the blanket. “Stop it.”

Cicely hummed noncommittally. “Whatever.”

When Lexi looked back at Beau he was shaking his head at Emily who was trying to pass him a guitar. Other people around the fire seemed to notice at the same time and they quieted down to listen.

“No, god.” Beau was saying with an embarrassed laugh. “I’m not gonna subject these lovely people to my singing.”

His deputies all started egging him on too, but he was shaking his head, adamantly refusing to take the guitar from his daughter. Finally she pleaded with him.

“Please, you used to sing all the time.”

“Yeah, to make you go to sleep. Pretty sure you’d just pretend to make me stop.”

Emily pouted at him. “No, I loved listening to you. Come on.” She paused. “You haven’t picked up a guitar since…since before you left Dallas.”

A look shifted over Beau’s face that Lexi couldn’t interpret. He seemed sad, but also wary. He sighed. “Em -”

“Please!” She interrupted him.

With an even deeper sigh he finally took the guitar from her. His audience clapped and he shook his head, clearly embarrassed. “Oh god. What am I supposed to sing?” He asked his daughter, slightly desperate sounding.

“Sing that one you used to sing.”

Beau lifted his hand in exasperation. “What one I used to sing.”

“The ‘love’ one…the…make you feel the love.”

“Make you feel my love?” Cassie clarified and Emily nodded. “Ooh, I love that song!”

Beau was obviously still very reluctant, but he settled the guitar on his lap and strummed a few chords before adjusting the tuning pegs to his liking. Finally he cleared his throat and shook his head as he looked out at the now silent audience staring at him.

“Oh boy.” He said quietly and everyone chuckled. “Sorry.” He said with a shake of his head.

Then he began plucking at the strings and a warm melody surrounded them all. When Beau began singing there was a collective intake of breath, clear surprise on everyone’s faces. His voice was warm and full, melodic and emotive. In short, it was beautiful.

When the rain is blowing in your face And the whole world is on your case I would offer you a warm embrace To make you feel my love

He watched Emily as he sang the words and Lexi knew he meant every word he sang to her. He looked around the circle with a slightly sheepish smile as he strummed out the melody between verses, but his eye caught Lexi’s again as he began the second verse, and it was as though something kept their gazes locked as he sang. Lexi couldn’t have looked away if her life depended on it.

When the evening shadows and the stars appear And there is no one to dry your tears I would hold you for a million years To make you feel my love

He strummed his way into the first bridge and then looked down at the ground before looking back at the rest of his audience as he began singing the bridge. Even though he wasn’t staring at her anymore, Lexi could feel every word he sang as though it was only the two of them there and he was singing it right to her.

I know you haven't made your mind up yet But I would never do you wrong I've known it from the moment that we met There’s no doubt in my mind where you belong

Cause I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue And I'd go crawling down the avenue There ain't nothing that I wouldn't do To make you feel my love

The storms are raging on a rolling sea And down the highway of regret The winds of change are blowing wild and free Oh, but you ain't seen nothing like me yet

The last verse he sang slowly, plucking the strings gently, and there was no doubt that he’d cast a kind of enchantment over the whole group.

Cause there ain’t nothing that I wouldn't do Go to the ends of the Earth for you Make you happy, make your dreams come true To make you feel my love

The last note echoed into the evening air and there was a moment of peaceful quiet before everyone started clapping and talking at once. Several deputies got up to slap Beau on the back, and everyone was shouting disbelief and praise.

For his part, Beau turned very red, and thrust the guitar back into Emily’s hands before wrapping one arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side, and kissing the top of her head.

Beside her Cicely sighed deeply and repeated herself to Lexi. “Gooey.” She said, but her tone was definitely saying, “I told you so.”

@lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu @jackles010378

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26 @slut-for-evans-stan

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous @k-slla @stoneyggirl2

#beau arlen #beau arlen series #beau arlen fluff #beau arlen fan fic #beau arlen fic #only the strong survive

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