#gothamapologist

Oh and the horns thing with Agen and his master.... MY HEART. And then Agen walking through the camp after 🥺🥺

I physically cannot do drawn-out sads, there will always be light points at least half the time, if that helps. xD

I’m really glad you liked the moment with T’ra! The fact that she’s a shapeshifter is criminally underused in canon, so it was really fun to think of all the applications that could have, especially with a troublesome padawan from a different species who she really wanted to connect with. 

Jon x Theon:

vomit / don’t ship / okay / cute / adorable / perfect / beyond flawless / hot damn / screaming and crying / i will ship them in hell 

The parallels between them and the narrative fouls just makes them so interesting, plus there’s all that lovely angsting over Robb which can happen.

Sansa x Mya:

vomit / don’t ship / okay / cute / adorable / perfect / beyond flawless / hot damn / screaming and crying / i will ship them in hell 

One of the first people to be nice to Sansa because of her personality rather than her name and without a creepy af age gap? Hell yeah I ship them.

Robert x Ned:

vomit / don’t ship / okay / cute / adorable / perfect / beyond flawless / hot damn / screaming and crying / i will ship them in hell 

“Muscled as a maiden’s fantasy” Need I say any more?

Rhaegar x Jon Con:

vomit / don’t ship / okay / cute / adorable / perfect / beyond flawless / hot damn / screaming and crying / i will ship them in hell 

I don’t really like the Targaryens, and while I can appreciate the tragedy of this ship, I just don’t ship it.

My least favourite ships?

Sansa x Sandor, Petyr or Tyrion - they make me feel super uncomfortable because none of these men are actually ever kind to her at all and at some point have all been her captors

Jon x Daenerys - similar reasons to above, plus she never gave any indication of respecting him

Rhaegar x Lyanna - she was at most fifteen, he was in his late twenties, no matter what the show says I don’t believe it was anything other than a kidnapping

Robb whined lowly as Theon danced away from him once more. He had been on the edge of just grabbing him and dragging him to some secluded spot all day, but Theon had thwarted his every attempt.

He had teased him with soft touches and gentle gropes all through the meeting with the lords, all through their inspections of the troops, and all through the meal they shared.

It was a nightmare.

Normally Robb did not mind his tactile nature, normally he welcomed it, but to be teased by it and to be unable to reciprocate was torture. In Winterfell, back before the world had gone mad, he would have made some excuse and dragged Theon to the Springs or his room for a little privacy while Jon rolled his eyes knowingly. He couldn’t do that in a war camp though, not when it seemed like his every move was watched and judged by his bannermen, by the men who had placed a crown upon his head and named him king.

Another touch, one that moved perilously close to his crotch, was the final straw. He took hold of Theon’s wrist in a grip that was sure to leave a mark and started to lead him away from the fire towards his tent. Robb apologised to those lords who had been trying to speak with him, or at least, he thought he did, his mind was too clouded by the thoughts of what he wanted to do to Theon to be sure.

Theon merely grinned smugly at him, blatantly pleased to have gained the reaction he had wanted.

Thanks for the prompt 💕

2: in the snow & 46: fever

The other two can be found here

Theon had gone missing.

They had been out on a hunt and Theon had disappeared, the anxious faces of father and the other men told Robb all he needed to know. Some of them worried that he had tried to run away.

Robb didn’t believe that.

He knew Theon wouldn’t run away, knew that he wouldn’t just leave him behind. Not when they had finally admitted to one another how they felt.

Besides, Theon knew his disappearance would only spark war again and he still woke from nightmares of his home burning and his brothers dying.

“Robb,” Father called out, drawing Robb’s attention, “Take Jory and search East, he can’t have gone far. If you find him head straight back to Winterfell, we’ll reconvene there at sundown.”

“Of course father.” Robb nodded his head and wheeled his horse around, a light snow had begun to fall and he hoped they could find Theon before it settled.

They moved slowly through the trees, keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of Theon or his horse, it was not until the first rays of sundown painted the sky with streaks of orange that they found him, alone among a grove of oak.

Theon lay on the ground, his face flushed and snow settling upon his chest. His horse was no where to be seen and his bow was snapped upon the ground.

Robb jumped down from his horse and rushed to Theon’s side, he could hardly bear to see his friend, his lover, in such a wounded state.

He was not shivering, which was worrying, to not shiver in this cold meant that something was wrong. Robb laid a hand upon his face an flinched.

His skin was burning up and he was muttering in a dialect that Robb did not understand, one that Theon slipped into when he was drunk. It was one of the dialects of the Iron Islands, one that Theon’s mother had used to use, or so he had confessed once.

Jory looked concerned, which in itself was worrying as he normally tried to remain calm in front of Robb and his siblings. If he was visibly concerned then it was surely something to be concerned about indeed.

“Come on,” Robb grunted, as Jory helped him lift Theon onto his horse, “Let’s go home.”

Theon looked at him with glazed eyes as Robb swung up behind him, and then seemed to sink into Robb’s arms.

“I’ve got you.” Robb murmured into his ear, “It’s alright, you’re safe now.”

As fast as the horses could manage they returned to Winterfell, through the trees and the snow and the slowly falling darkness.

The whole time he could feel the heat of Theon in his arms, the burning of a fever beneath his skin.

Theon had to be alright. He had to be.

i haven't! the tag is from a quote from deathless by catherynne m. valente; "I will not let her speak because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories. A war story is a black space. On the one side is before and on the other side is after, and what is inside belongs only to the dead."