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hoesandnuggs · 1 year

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It’s a Funny Story, Actually…

Please be kind, this is my first imagine

———

When you had first got involved with Leah, you were both 15. You'd met at an England camp and became friends, soon becoming more as you both realised you cared for each other a little more than you did for others. By the time you'd both had your 23rd birthdays, you'd been together for 8 years, longer than some marriages last.

You knew from the moment you met her you wanted to be hers for life. So the conversations you had about marriage and your future life together weren't anything terrifying.

When Leah had been asked to do an interview about your relationship, she felt happy.

It's not like she didn't already share you with the world. She was so proud to be yours and never shied away from public affection. She'd happily post pictures of you both, as well as kissing you after games, or mentioning you in passing comments in interviews.

"Baby, I've been asked if we can talk about our wedding and stuff. Are you okay with that?" She'd asked you as soon as she'd found out what it was about.

"Yes my love, it's all okay. Just don't make me look bad," you joked, curling her into your arms even more.

"We've never really spoken about it before," she replied, a thoughtful look gracing her features.

"Its never been the right time I guess." You responded, kissing her cheek gently before finding her hand where her wedding band stood proudly.

"I never imagined getting married until I met you," she said, a smile forming on her lips as she looked down at you from her higher ground on your lap.

"Save all the nice things for the interview babe."

And she did.

She was upset that you weren't able to come with her as originally planned, but a meeting with your agent had sprung up last minute and you couldn't find a work around.

"Leah, great to finally meet you." The interviewer said, whilst the crew were setting up the cameras. She engaged in small talk, as a text from you finally came through.

Lover🤍

Goodluck my love. I know you'll be just fine. I'll pick you up afterwards and we can go grab some dinner. You'll do fantastic as always. Miss you. Love youuuuu❤️❤️❤️

To: Lover🤍

Thank you love. Dinner sounds lovely, I'll hopefully be done by 7, but I'll text you as soon as I know anything. Miss you too. Love you toooooo🤍🤍🤍

Leah smiled as she put her phone away, waiting for the interview to start.

"So we're here today with Lioness Captain Leah Williamson, a different kind of interview than you're probably used to. Today we’re talking relationships."

"Yes so I've only ever had one relationship, the one I'm currently in. I met my wife when we were both 15 at an England camp, and we've never looked back since."

"So that's 10 years you've been together?"

"Yes, 10 years next month actually. "

"So you and your wife, Y/n Williamson, formerly Y/N L/N, got married 2 years ago?"

"We we're both 23, already been together for 8 years and we just knew it was the right next step. We got a lot of people commenting on it, saying we were to young to commit to the rest of our lives but when you've been with someone for that length of time, you just know, and we did."

"Did you propose or did she propose to you?"

"She proposed to me, although, it's a funny story actually."

———

You knew how close she was with her family. That was perhaps the only reason you stood outside the door of Leah's childhood home about to ask for her hand in marriage.

You were nervous, slightly. Amanda loved you, like her own, often telling everyone about her three kids, which brought a bit of confusion when they met you.

"Are you ever going to knock?" Amanda asked as she cracked open the front door. The smile on her lips wouldn't last long.

"No," her frown evident as she sat opposite you over the breakfast bar.

"We're ready." You tried, but you could tell that Amanda was stubborn with her choice.

"I won't deny that you are y/n, I know you're ready to take that next step, I just don't think Leah is. You're both only 23, you're still so young, you don't have to rush. Marriage is a big commitment, judt think about it some more," Amanda explained, but your heart had already shattered.

You weren't really expecting her to say no, and had the whole thing already planned out, the ring sat safely hidden away in your bedside draw, where you knew she'd never look. You knew Leah would love the date you had planned, and instead of wasting the cancellations you took her on it anyways.

Leah had butterflies from the moment you'd asked to take her out.

After your conversation in bed a month or two back, she'd been waiting for you to take her out and ask her to be yours forever.

The flowers that had arrived at her door were the first sign, the most beautiful bouquet of roses she'd ever seen.

And then you showed up at her door, dressed to the nines and a smile painted on your lips.

"God, you're so beautiful," you said with a smile, Leah's heart beating at a unknowing pace.

The compliments didn't stop there, and neither did the romance. Every stop in the journey, Leah waited for this to be the location you dropped to your knee and asked her you be yours.

But you never did.

As much as Leah loved the date, she'd also felt her heart break as it came to an end and she still didn't have a ring on her finger.

She didn't sleep that night, wondering if she hadn't been obvious enough in her approach. But you'd literally sat in bed on night and told each other that you were ready, that you'd only ever want each other. Maybe you just hadn't been ready just yet.

Her thought ran wild as she slept peacefully on her chest, her hand running through your hair.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Leah asked, hugging you from behind as you washed up the dishes you'd dirtied from breakfast.

"It's okay baby, I've got some things to take care of this afternoon. Maybe if you're still there at dinner I'll pop over." You smiled, giving her a kiss as she sighed.

It wasn't like you to miss family time. Especially when Amanda was making one of your favourites. Leah chalked it down to some of the stresses you'd had with your agent over the last few weeks, trying to cement a contract that you were worthy of at Arsenal, so you could stay with her.

"The pictures you sent me were lovely," Amanda said as she sat at the table with a tea in her hand, a juice for her daughter who still didn't drink hot drinks.

"Yeah it was amazing," Leah sighed, the frown that graced her forehead for a few seconds was not missed by her mother.

"Okay," she longed out, "that wasn't the reaction I was expecting."

"It was amazing, the most romantic date we've ever been on, and I thought she was going to propose, and she just-" Leah's heart sank, her head fell into her hands as she tried to contain her tears, therefore missing the reaction from her mother.

"She just what?" Amanda said, her hand squeezing lightly on her daughters shoulder in a weak attempt of comfort.

"She just didn't. We've literally spoken about it. I told her I only want her, that I'm ready. She said she was too and I guess I thought she meant she was ready now." Leah still hadn't been able to understand it, but seeing her mothers face made her question what she'd thought of you.

"Would you have said yes?" Amanda asked.

"Without a doubt. I don't want to wait another second." Leah replied.

Your phone buzzed a few seconds after your girlfriend had text you to let you know she was on her way home and that she'd pick up a Nandos for you both on her way back.

You assumed it would be Leah again, but was surprised when you saw Amanda's name on your screen.

"I'm sorry," she said before you even had chance to say hello.

"What have you got to be sorry for?" You laughed slightly, trying to hide your fear. What if she'd said something to Leah and she was coming back to end it.

"I said she wasn't ready and I was wrong, she is ready. You're both ready and I had no right to tell you otherwise. Go get the ring and do it." Amanda rushed down the phone, you could tell she was upset with herself.

"I've already got the ring, Amanda." You laughed.

"I'm home baby," Leah called, kicking off her shoes and heading straight to the kitchen to plate up your food.

"Babe?" She asked when you hadn't responded, only to find you stood in the garden, the fairy lights you'd hung up on the fence when you'd first moved in a-light.

"Darling, what's all this?" She asked as she made her way outside, confused by the roses in your hands.

"I love you," you started, as you handed her the roses. She gave them a sniff before she took in your nervous form. Placing them on the small outdoor table you had, she took your hands in hers, thanking you with a light kiss.

"I love you too." She said with a smile.

"This isn't what I had planned, but I can't wait another second." Still with your hands in hers, you dropped to one knee, only letting go to find the ring that was burning in your back pocket.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. 8 years is not enough time to have loved you, and I want to have the opportunity to love every single year you spend on this earth. You are my everything Leah and I-" you stopped when you felt a wet drop on your hand and looked up to find her crying.

"Please don't cry gorgeous," using your thumb to wipe away the tears on her cheeks.

"They're happy tears, I promise," she spoke through a sob. "Ask me." She demanded.

"Leah, will you make me the happiest girl alive and be my wife?" You ask.

She nods her head, slowly at first, but it quickly turns into a vigorous shake.

"Yes! Yes, yes," she said as she gives you her hand and allows you to slip the ring onto her finger.

She smiled at it for a second, before throwing herself into your arms.

"I thought you were going to propose the other day," she said, calming down enough to speak.

"It's a funny story actually."

To: Mum

She did it🤍

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #england lionesses #lionesses

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ninjago-oc-appreciation · 8 months

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Ninjago Oc Secret Santa 2023

What is a Secret Santa? - A Secret Santa is a gift giving event; you'll be assigned someone to secretly make a gift for, and someone will make a gift for you. - It's very important that no one knows that you are making them a gift and vice versa, that you don’t know who is making you a gift! - This event is a writing and art event! Are there any rules? - Absolutely no N/S/F/W or Suggestive content is permitted for prompts, gifts, or references. This is /not/ an 18+ event. - No direct contact with the person you're making a gift for; you can communicate through me or someone helping run the event, or ask through anon on tumblr if you can. - No AI art/writing, Gacha edits, face claims, picrews, or bases will be permitted for oc reference submissions or gifts. - Oc x Canon and Oc x Oc ships are 100% allowed. - Fankids, sonas, and self inserts are also allowed; my only rule is that fankids of Lloyd x Canon ships are not permitted. - Please respect requests regarding holiday or seasonal preferences when making a gift. Don't depict an oc participating in a holiday or seasonal activity that the creator asked not be depicted. How many ocs can be submitted total? - At least one oc is required, but up to three can be submitted ^^ What will I need for sign ups? - Refs or art that show a clear, colored depiction of your oc. - OR at least two pieces of writing for said oc (does not need to be a whole fic. Could easily just be a quick blurb showing how they’re written as a character) - Basic Information/Fun Facts about your character. This can be background information, relationships, likes/dislikes, age and height, personality, etc. - Suggestions or prompts for your gift giver. Stuff to help get their brain going. - Your blog name (not the name you go by online but the url name. Like @/Ninjago-Oc-Appreciation. Make sure it's a tumblr url, and not from any other social media) What's the general timeline for this event? - Sign ups will officially begin near the end of October, around the week of Halloween. - Assignments will be within the first couple of weeks of November. - You will have until December 23rd to January 7th to finish your piece. These will be the designated posting days. - January 8th to 14th will be the designated late week. How do I sign up? - In Late October, I'll post a google form where you can submit your oc(s)! There will be one for writing and one for art! - Please reach out to me in someway after signing up. This can be through messages, asks, comments, etc. In the past we've had issues with the forms, where they'd "eat' a submission, and I'd like to know when to check to make sure this doesn't happen again. Additional Notes: - The forms won't collect your email, I turn off any settings that will to ensure privacy. If they are requiring you to sign in, tell me so I can look into why. - This year I am joined by @totally-not-into-drama! They have offered to help with assignments, so expect to get a message from either me or them when the time comes! - We'll be using #NOSS2023 and #SecretNinja2023 as tags for this event! That's all! If you have any questions feel free to let me know, I tried to cover everything but I may have missed something!

#Ninjago #Ninjago oc #Ninjago ocs #Ninjago oc Secret Santa #Ninjago events #NOSS2023 #SecretNinja2023 #Aries posts #Aries talks #dunno which tag I use

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sophietv · 11 months

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The Love Blackout "It's all part of the f*cking story"

Ok, this is gonna be a long post. But hopefully, this will help you understand this very important piece of Kaylor evidence and explain LSK a bit better too.

PS: I'm new to Tumblr, while doing my research I'll tag those post/blogs but I don't know if there's anything else I should do, let me know!

Love Blackout Meaning

So all this Love Blackout discourse comes from those Glitch lyrics:

"But it's been 2190 days of out love blackout, the system's breaking down"

First, let's start by looking at what Love Blackout is supposed to mean:

"A suppression of information, especially one imposed on the media by the government"

Interesting... a suppression of information imposed on the medias 🤔

Like not being seen/papped together by the medias??? Maybe.

2190 days

Knowing Taylor, she wouldn't use 2190, a very specific number, for it to mean nothing would she??

So what does 2190 days means in years? It's 6 years:

Didn't she recently talked about a relationship, 6 years AND the medias recently?:

Yes! In her Lavender Haze Instagram Reel! The same where she talked about that scene in Mad Men 🤔

"If the world finds out that you are in love with somebody, they are gonna weight in on it"

"Like my relationship FOR 6 years"

Funny how she didn't say her relationship OF 6 years.

She wanted to protect the real stuff from media, in the last 6 years.

So if you count the days backward since Midnights release on October 21st 2022 it gives you Octobre 22nd 2016.

The last time Karlie and Taylor were papped together was at Drake's birthday on Octobre 23rd.

But The Love Blackout was not over on Midnights release day.

Taylor and Karlie were still not papped together at an event (they weren't papped at reputation stadium tour, they just posted a picture together). So Midnights release day should count in our calculation. And if you include that day. It ends exactly on Octobre 23rd 2016.

Before taking a deep dive into this Love Blackout, let's take a moment to talk about Octobre 2016.

Because A LOT of important stuff happened that month.

Octobre 2016

Octobre 11th 2016:

Taylor goes to diner at the Waverly Inn restaurant with Suki Waterhouse, Cara Delevigne and Dakota Johnson.

Later that evening, Suki posts a table cloth with : "It's all part of the f*cking story" written on it and a "K". She deletes it not long after. But us Gaylors have all jumped on it already.

Plus, one of Taylor body guard is papped leaving the restaurant with that Table cloth:

But what story?? What does it all mean??

Let's look at what happened in the days after this event.

I'm sure Taylor had a plan 😉

Octobre 12 2016:

Taylor goes to the Kings of Leon concert with the same friends and some more.

It's funny because, it's at this very concert, that Taylor is rumored to have started her relationship with Joe.

Are you starting to see the "f*cking story" they were talking about??

Soure iwanthermidnightz : https://iwanthermidnightz.tumblr.com/post/615953412601823232/in-conclusion

Octobre 13th 2016:

The next day. On a 13th.

Taylor, Karlie and Serena Williams go out at the Bowery Ballroom.

Yes. Yes, this combination of names is suspicious 🤔

Back to the 2190 days:

So we have established that counting backward from Midnights release and including Midnigths release day. We have Octobre 23 2016.

This was Drake's birthday party and Taylor attended with Karlie:

The article was published the next morning

In fact, it's the last time ever that they both were papped at an event together: (Love Blackout)

Two important Kaylor Lore came from that Party:

Golden tattoos "made your mark on me, a golden tattoo"

The Third Polaroid

If we follow the Love Blackout definition : "A supression of information imposed on the media"

We can stop there, everything makes sense, the song ties back to Karlie, that moment and everyone is happy.

But what if there's more to this?

The Blood Moonlit Implication

corneliastvendor did an incredible find: https://kwyw.tumblr.com/post/711447685996167168?is_related_post=1

(I also use picture of their post here)

Stay with me on that one and I swear this will all make sense!

Plus there's a lot to unpack after this.

In Glitch, there's the lyrics: "Nights are so stary, blood moonlit"

Blood moon is a lunar eclipse.

There is even a bloodmoon the Glitch Official Lyrics Video:

And when was the last lunar eclipse following Midnights release?

source: corneliastvendor

On Novembre 8th 2022.

If we count the days backward where does it lead us?

source: corneliastvendor

It leads to Novembre 9th 2016.

Karlie and Taylor last event that they attended together (except reputation) is Lorde's birthday on Novembre 7th 2016.

On Novembre 7th Taylor posted this picture:

And Karlie posted the same picture the day after on Novembre 8th:

It's the last post about them attending an event together (beside reputation).

The presidentatial election also happenened on Novembre 8th 2016, and Trump was elected... (I believe this is important).

So the last post of them at an event together is on Novembre 8th 2016. Wich means that the Love Blackout would have started the day after right?

Exactly 2190 days since the blood moonlit night followingg Midnights release.

And something tells me that this specific date is really important in their story, because here's a screenshot of The Man MV:

The. Exact. Same. Ring. and pose...

Lorde's birthday, is also the first time ever that Taylor wore the Victora Secret Angel Ring.

source: tilynation

I think she wore this ring there, knowing that they won't be seen together after as a way of being able to flag Karlie in the future.

The VS angel ring is really important and Taylor wore it at many significant events:

All the making of videos of reputation

The Call It What You Want scene of Miss Americana

On Decembre 4th 2019 (Kissgate anniversary)

So last post together before they disappear on Novembre 8th 2016, same day as the US elections.

This ties back to those lyrics: "I recall late Novembre, slowly I said, holding my breath. You don't need to save me, but would you run away with me? Yes"

Remember that in Miss Americana, it's Karlie who says "Yes".

The Love Blackout:

During that time, after Novembre 8th 2016, Taylor is mostly in London...and so is karlie.

Decembre 2016:

Taylor spends the holiday at her in-laws in St-Louis.

January 2017:

Taylor is in London.

There's a very interesting entry in her Lover Journal that talks EXACTLY about the Love Blackout:

"I'm essentially based in London, hiding out trying to protect us from the nasty world that just wants to ruin things. We have been together and no one has found out for 3 monts now"

And it is almost words for words her Lavender Haze Instagram Reel....

(Las time they were papped together, in Octobre 2016, Drake's birthday party, 3 months before)

And who was in England during the exact time frame? Karlie!

I believe the picture was posted a couple of days after.

But regardless, this is important because look at the Swans.

And now look at the Lover Merch:

Plus, Karlie did a very cute post that month with Swarovski Swans jewelery:

Refering the Eye Theory while she was at it!!!

Also, Taylor said in the Long Pond Studio Session that she went to The Lake District a couple of years ago.

And in Invisible String we have: "Bold was the waitress on our three year trip Getting lunch down by the lakes. She said I looked like an American singer"

Kaylor anniversary is March 6th 2014. So Jan 2017 is close enough to that anniversary.

Plus, 3 years for Toe would have been in 2019, wich doesn't match the "couple of years" of LPSS...

Jannuary 11th 2017:

Taylor is paped going out of a gym in LA.

It's the first time that she is paped in a couple of months.

And she wears the VS Angel Ring

source: tilynation

In the reputation secret session she explained how she was overwhelmed by this.

"her thought process was less about herself and more about how she could possibly have a normal relationship when this was her life"

Source: https://www.tumblr.com/screamedsooloud/174932790840/i-have-heard-mixed-interpretations-of-dancing-with

She then went directly to the studio and recorded Dancing With Our Hands Tied

She cried for an hour before recording the song.

Thankfully, like the song says after the Love Blackout part is that the system is breaking down.

And we had some glimpse of this with the Twitter "glitch" that made Karlie repost some of her old Kaylor post. Or her facebook being hacked...

I truly hope they are able to be free soon, they deserve it.

#kaylor #karlie #taylor #gaylor #glitch #love blackout #2190 days #toe #the fucking story #it's all part of the fucking story #lsk

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sheeple · 11 months

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Miracles don't exist | 12: Innocent defiance

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Cute Theo / Moldy Voldy / crucio / torture / all the good stuff A/n: I'll be on vacation until the 22th and I won't take my laptop with me. Idk if I'll be able to post the next chapter next week (16th). Otherwise two chapters the week after that (23rd). [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

You're standing in the alley between Oliviander's and Magical Menagerie. Just like you and Theo agreed to meet up in your letters.

You're glad to get out of the manor. All sorts of strange figures started to visit Malfoy Manor, paying their respects to the Dark Lord. Because of that, you don't really leave your room. Only when you're sure that nobody is there to gawk at you, you make a move for the gardens ─ if it is good weather at least ─ or towards the muggle town a couple of miles away.

The library, what once was your safe space, is being occupied by Voldemort and his followers. They conduct their super secretive meetings there, the door charmed with muffliato.

You've been called in once after Mister Nott has come and gone, giving you a slight bow. You had to give all the letters you've received from Theo and had to account for your replies. It was a wonder you've gotten the okay to go hang out with Theo… with no chaperone.

But you see the hooded figure stationed at the end of the street and you know he is sent by your father.

After waiting not more than ten minutes, Theodore appears with a big smile. You straighten your back and bounce over to him. Hugging him, you whisper into his ear, "I'm being monitored."

You feel his hold on you tighten before he lets you go. He makes sure his back is turned towards the figure. "I've spotted him. We just have to make sure to lose him then."

Theodore grabs your hand and pulls you along. You weave through the crowd, acting casual and holding hands to make sure you don't lose each other.

"Do you still see him?"

You stop at a stall and subtly look over your shoulder. "I don't spot him, but who knows where he is."

The brown-haired boy hums, his eyes darting around. "I know how we are going to get rid of him." he sends you a smile and waits for you to smile back in confirmation.

This time, you're the one who grabs his hand and you let him lead you towards an alley almost at the end of Diagon Alley. He lets you enter a small alcove first before he grabs his wand and taps a half-dying flower bush.

"The Leaky Cauldron is not the only entrance and exit. There are secret passages all over London."

Theodore lets you pass through the passage first and makes sure he closes it behind him.

"Where are we?", you ask as you look around. You've appeared from behind a tree in a courtyard.

As he grabs your hand again and tugs you towards the exit, Theo looks down at you with a small smile. "It's an unofficial passageway in and out of Diagon Alley. It's a little further away than where I want to take you, but that's no problem."

A smile of your own grows on your face. "And where will you take me?"

"That's a surprise.

He leads you down an escalator and onto a metro platform. You've been holding each other's hands the whole time. Only when you're entering the train cart, you let go to take hold of the pole. Theo stands facing you and he wraps his hand around the pole, just a little above yours. His pinky barely touches your pointer.

You feel your cheeks head up and you study the people around you. Muggles from all walks of life take the metro. They're quite fascinating, to be honest. If it was up to you, you could spend all day roaming around the metro system of London. Hoping on and off trains, listening to conversations around you. The cute puppies also bring a smile to your face.

A sudden turn in the train tracks makes you lose your balance, but Theo is quick to grab your middle and steady you. You blink and look up.

It seems like time has slowed down. Theodore's dark hair curls slightly at the nape of his neck. His lashes graze his cheeks when he blinks. The way he wets his bottom lip as he watches you, both of your faces close together.

"This is our stop", he whispers before taking a step back and getting out of the rail cart.

Shaking your head, you quickly follow after him in fear of losing him in the crowd of something.

After getting out of the underground and walking for a short bit, you arrive at your destination. Your eyes fill with glee and you bounce on the balls of your feet. "A film theatre?! Oh, Theo! How awesome is this?"

You've always wanted to go to a muggle film theatre, but you were never allowed. But now, with Theo, it could be your little secret together.

Theodore smirks and holds the door open for you. "I thought you would like it. I already got the tickets, so if you want something to snack on?"

"Do you want to share a popcorn bucket?", you ask and turn towards the boy with a beaming smile. He nods and motions for you to get to the register. He orders the popcorn and slaps the money needed onto the counter. When you suggest paying him back, you get a stern glare that says enough.

Theodore lets you take the lead and makes sure you're in the seat nearest the middle. To be fair, he doesn't give a shit about muggle films — or muggles in general. But seeing you smile and shine brightly on the ride to the theatre and when you realised you were going to watch a film… he would give up his magic for that.

After the film — Jumanji — finishes, Theodore makes sure you're floo-flamed home safe. All the while to the Floo Network you're excitingly bouncing up and down the streets, recalling the story to Theodore. He just smiles and shakes his head, occasionally pulling you to the side so you don't bump into people, trash bins, or cars.

And when you appear in the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor, you're still chattering away.

"And when that drum came! I felt it in here!" You press a hand to your stomach. "And how they did the effects! Do you think they used really monkeys and lions?"

Theodore runs a hand through his hair before placing a hand on your shoulder. "Who knows, maybe it was magic all along that they have the muggles believe it's special effects." He leans closer and softly presses his lips to your forehead. "I'll see you sometime, right?"

With your face heated up like coals, you nod. Theodore turns around to enter the Floo Network to go back home. "Theo wait!"

He turns around with raised eyebrows. You pull him towards you by his sleeve and give him a small kiss on his cheek, right below his birthmark. "Thank you for everything, Theodore. I really appreciate it."

The dark-haired boy, whose cheeks are almost Gryffindor red, gives you a shy smile and disappears into the fireplace. He is gone with green flames and a call of his home address.

You turn around with a bright smile and warm cheeks, but it falters as you see your aunt and uncle standing in the opening of the entrance hall, solemn looks on their faces. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"The Dark Lord wants to see you", is the only thing Uncle Lucius says before he turns around and walks, presumably, to where your father is waiting for you.

Glancing at Aunt Cissy, you hope to get some information about what is happening from her. But the duo-tone-haired woman looks at the marble floor.

You follow after your uncle. Everything points to having this great day ruined. You can feel it. Can't you just have one day where everything is all right and happy while at Malfoy Manor?

Entering the large dining room, you see your father standing with his inner circle. A figure with its head covered by a bag sits at the foot of one Death Eater.

"My Heir."

A shiver runs up and down your spine in the almost whisper-like way he says it. "My Lord."

He motions for you to come closer. And when you stand next to him, he flicks his wand and the figure gets dragged in front of the two of you. You eye the person warily but keep your face as passive as possible.

"As my Heir, it's important that you follow in my footsteps. And as you are old enough to court the young Master Nott, you are old enough to prove yourself."

A frown forms on your face. Old enough to prove yourself? For what?

The bag gets ripped from the figure's face and you can't suppress the gasp that leaves you. It is one of the nice clerks at the diner you stop by sometimes when you need to escape the manor. He is bruised, and bloody, and has obviously been put through hell and back.

Voldemort wraps two claw-like hands around your shoulders, making sure you can't escape. "As much as I desire you put an end to this pathic muggle's life, I recognise you are not ready for that yet. You've been raised by minds not like our own, and you have to be moulded."

A cold hand slides down your arms and presses something into your hand. Your wand.

"Go ahead. Perform the Cruciatus Curse on this filthy Muggle."

He... no! He can't be serious, right?!

You look up with big eyes and a trembling jaw. "I... I don't know... I don't know how to pref--" You can't even finish your sentence with the shock you're in. You can't crucio somebody! You don't have the will to ever inflict that horrible curse on somebody. Let alone someone innocent!

"Then...", Voldemort raises his wand with a flourish, "let me demonstrate. Crucio!"

A green flash hits you. The pain is so intense, so all-consuming, that your legs can no longer support your body. You drop to the ground, writhing in pain. White-hot knives pierce every inch of your skin, and your head feels like it is going to explode with pain. You are screaming more loudly than you've ever screamed in your life.

The agony stops after a while, and you lay drained on the floor. All your energy has disappeared from your body.

"Get up!", hisses the Dark Lord.

Pushing yourself up with shaking arms, you stumble onto your feet. You are going to collapse any second, you are sure of it. You don't know if you survive another hit.

Gasping and rasping, you raise your wand to the poor clerk. He shakes violently his head, tears streaming down his face. His pleas and cries transform into screams and cries of agony when you do as you are told.

You muffle your own sniffles and drop your hand next to your side, an iron grip on the wood.

The Dark Lord looks satisfied at your curse. "Very well, my Heir."

With one swift Avada Kedavra and the clerk drops dead. A petrified and pained look on the poor man's face.

Turning towards you, Voldemort grabs his wand — the tip is still scalding hot — and presses it against your underarm. You scream, feeling the burning seep into your skin and flesh, twirling around and nestling. You feel something enter you. You throw your head backwards, your spine arched, your mouth and eyes wide open.

Satisfied, Voldemort pulls back and you drop to the ground. Violated, you curl into a ball and clutch your arm.

You look down at the black snake in your skin. Until the end of time, you're officially a Death Eater and there is no going back. You're one of them now and nobody could help you. Not even if they wanted to.

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505

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scoonsalicious · 9 days

Text

Reminder: I am on a posting break for new content until May 23rd so that I can focus on writing WFLT...

In the meantime, please enjoy this second installment of Unwanted: Unusables, or, chapters from the first draft that didn't make it into the final cut of the finished story! Today, I have an early version of Chapter 6: Unattached. A lot of the beginning is the same (the dinner itself), but there was a LOT I added, then removed, from the end of the chapter. Jade was going by Jewel at this point in the draft, and Tony had gifted Pocket a Ferrari Sergio as his post-Civil War apology.

Why did I scrap this section? Easy: I couldn't realistically convince myself that Nat didn't know how to drive stick shift, lol.

Since this is the whole chapter (as it was) in its entirety, it's long AF.

Enjoy!

You and Bucky arrived at the common room an hour or so later, the sound of laughter filtering out from inside.

"Sounds like it's going well," Bucky turned to you with a hopeful smile. "Try to play nice in there, okay?"

"I'm always nice," you pouted, but when Bucky gave you a pointed look, you sighed. "Fine. It goes against my better judgement," you said, adjusting the collar of Bucky's shirt, "but I'll do it for you."

The look he gave you was indiscernible. There was warmth and affection there, but also an undercurrent of sadness in it that left you unsettled. You swallowed, looking away from him. "Alright, let's get this over with," you said, putting more conviction in your voice than you felt.

He took your hand, and together you walked into the common room. It wasn't hard to spot Jewel-- she was presiding smack dab in the middle of the room, telling some story that had Sam, Steve, Rhodey, Thor, and even Bruce all at rapturous attention.

"I'm going to go introduce myself real quick, then be right back," said Bucky, letting go of your hand and heading over to where Jewel had was holding court. The temperature of the air seemed to drop ten degrees without the warmth of his presence by your side.

You watched as he made his way over to stand beside Steve. In seemingly no time at all, Steve was making the introductions. Bucky took Jewel's hand, and to your surprise, he bent over and kissed her knuckles. Your mind's eye took you back to the day you'd met him, when you'd pulled your own hand back after he'd refused to even shake it.

Jewel demurred and looked away from Bucky, bashfully, before putting a hand on his chest and saying something that made Bucky laugh and caused his cheeks to blush.

"Careful, you glare any harder, you're liable to bore a hole straight through him," Natasha said, coming up alongside of you.

"What if I aim for her, instead?" you asked, reaching for the tumbler of alcohol she offered you and taking a sip to distract yourself.

"What happened to no-strings-attached, friends who happen to fuck?" Nat asked with a smirk. "Don't tell me you've grown strings, Pocket."

You looked away from the scene in front of you. "There might be some growing of string, in theory," you mumbled to her. Nat was the only person you had confided in regarding your arrangement with Bucky. Of course, your friend had been thrilled that there had been something going on between the two of you, but she'd been more concerned about protecting your heart-- was this the safest thing for you to do? You assured her at the time you'd be fine, but now...?

"String Theory?" asked Tony, popping up behind you both with a glass of whiskey. "Seems like a heavy topic of conversation for a social gathering, ladies."

"How'd the interview go?" you asked, hoping to move the topic of conversation as far away from Bucky as possible, now that Tony was there.

"She's everything you said, and more," said Tony with a sad shake of his head. "She put on a good show, though. Cap was eating right out of her hand."

Disappointment coursed through you at his words. "Looks like he's not the only one," you murmured as you watched Jewel let out a coquettish giggle at something Bucky said.

You kept up your conversation with Tony to keep yourself from openly staring, but it was hard to concentrate on anything else. Your heart sank every time they shared a laugh or a joke, or Jewel leaned into Bucky ever so slightly. You found yourself tensing each time Bucky reached out and put a hand on Jewel's arm or shoulder in response to something she said-- all too familiar gestures that you'd grown accustomed to being on the receiving end of, not watching him impart on others from a distance. So much for his "be right back."

You hated yourself for feeling this way.

Eventually, Tony's personal chef, Raul, called everyone to the table for dinner and the little gathering around Jewel broke up. Normally, you would be excited-- you loved it when Raul cooked special dinners for the team, but tonight you were on edge. Following Nat and Tony to the table, you froze in your tracks while you watched Bucky pull back a chair-- your chair, the one you had sat in, next to Bucky, for every meal for the last year-- for Jewel, pushing it in for her as she sat down.

Your heart felt like it was being ripped in half. Your brain automatically began thinking up excuses you could make for leaving the room, but you knew that would only make things worse for you in the long run.

The air around you suddenly felt as though it had grown colder. Everyone around you had noticed Bucky pull out a chair for Jewel-- silently declaring to all that tonight, she was the one he wanted next to him, and not you, despite your unspoken ritual. Sam shot you a sympathetic look, and Steve, who had been getting ready to sit at Bucky's other side, moved to offer you his chair, instead, as if that would make up for Bucky's slight.

You grimaced and silently shook your head at Steve, not wanting to draw any more attention to the awkward situation you found yourself in. Instead, you made your way to the only remaining seat at the table next to Nat-- directly across from Jewel and Bucky.

As you sat down, Jewel looked up at you with a bright smile. "Hi," she said, voice like honey. "I don't think we had a chance to meet yet. I'm Jewel, but you can call me 'Vixen.'"

You looked at her, confusion leaking into your features.

"I thought the two of you met when you gave Vixen her tour earlier," Bucky said, apparently remembering that you did exist, after all.

"Oh, no," Jewel (you absolutely refused to refer to her as 'Vixen,' even in your own head) said with a dismissive laugh, "they had some little bitch of an intern give me my tour. I should actually complain to Stark about her, she had an attitude."

"No, that was definitely me," you said, fighting to keep the annoyance out of your tone, "attitude and all." You had literally wasted three and a half hours of your life escorting this woman around the Tower and she couldn't be bothered to remember you? Jewel didn't even have the decency to look chastised at calling you bitchy to your face.

"They let interns have dinner with the Avengers?" she asked in disbelief, instead. "Have to say, I thought it be a little more... elite."

"Pocket's not an intern," Steve said with a laugh, as though it were the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard, and you were grateful to him for coming to your defense. "She's an Avenger, just like the rest of us." You gave Steve a warm, appreciative smile.

"Thanks, Cap," you said, truly touched he had called you an Avenger.

"Well, she's more like Avenger-adjacent," Bucky amended. The words shouldn't have stung-- it was how you had referred to yourself hundreds of times, but you tended to reserve it for your low moments, when you were feeling unequal to Earth's mightiest heroes. Hearing the words come out of Bucky's mouth, as if he, too, shared in your belief that you were inferior to the rest of them... well, that fucking hurt.

Steve let out a surprised laugh. "Pocket may not have enhanced physical abilities, but she's brilliant. She's an expert in strategy, she's got a PhD in Mechanical Engineering and Computation, and she's got a black belt in Krav Maga. It's no exaggeration to say I'd be dead a couple dozen times over if I hadn't had her at my six. If anything, I think it makes her more important than the rest of us. We're here because of the physical things we can do; Pocket's essential to the team because of how she thinks. We're replaceable, Pocket's one-of-a-kind."

You were speechless at Steve's words, your throat tightening with the emotional lump that had formed there. That may have been the kindest, sweetest thing anyone had said about you, ever, especially on the heels of Bucky's comment. Catching his eye, you mouthed a silent thank you, wishing you could convey how much his words meant to you. He winked at you in acknowledgement.

"I just meant that we try to keep Pocket away from the dangerous stuff," Bucky backpedaled, weakly, in your opinion. "Can't risk her getting hurt." He smiled at you, but you just stared back, impassively, until he looked away, embarrassed. He knew you only called yourself 'Avenger-adjacent' when you were being hard on yourself. He fucking knew it, because he had told you to knock it off a hundred times.

"So, Pocket's an interesting name," Jewel said, and you were momentarily grateful to her for trying to move the conversation on to something less embarrassing for you. "Did your parents, like, hate you or something?" she continued with a giggle. Well, that was a short-lived respite.

"Yeah, they did, actually," you said, completely straight-faced, "but the feeling was mutual, so no love lost there."

Jewel's mouth dropped open in shock and you had the distinct impression you'd ruined whatever power play she'd been trying to pull on you.

Nat broke into laughter next to you, and soon everyone else around you was joining in. While only a select few at the table knew the full extent of what your parents had put you through, it was no secret that you had experienced abuse at their hands, and it was second nature for you to use dark humor to help you cope with it.

As the laughter died down, the small talk started up again. You were thankful for the distraction, but your appetite was gone, which was a shame, because Raul had done an excellent job. You pushed your food around your plate, occasionally nodding along as though you were paying attention to the conversations around you.

You tried to ignore the little glances and gestures that Jewel directed at Bucky, but your eyes kept flickering over to them. You couldn't help but notice the way his body leaned in slightly towards hers when they talked. Did he do that when he spoke to you? He hadn't even said a word to you since the horrible Avengers-adjacent comment.

"So, Bucky," Jewel said, her voice low and flirty, "handsome super hero like you, you got a girlfriend?" Your eyes snapped up, watching him, sure he was going to look to you, make eye contact. Something to acknowledge what was between you, that would make you feel like you were still in the same room, hell, on the same fucking planet, as him. But he didn't.

Bucky grinned, running a hand through his hair.

"Nah, no girlfriend," he said, glancing over at Jewel. "But I'm definitely open to the idea." You had been stabbed in the abdomen on a mission once, and that hurt less than hearing the words that came out of Bucky's mouth, and you had to resist the urge to get up and leave the room at that moment.

"Really, man?" Sam asked from where he sat on the other side of Natasha, his voice hard in disbelief. The atmosphere in your corner of the table had shifted. Natasha, Steve, and Sam all stared at Bucky with looks ranging from incredulity to flat out disgust. Maybe the two of you hadn't been as secretive as you'd thought.

You couldn't bring yourself to even look at Bucky anymore. It felt like a betrayal, the way his eyes had met Jewel's and not yours. You tried to focus on the conversation around you, but all you could hear were your own thoughts. How could he be so callous as to openly flirt with someone else in front of you? Had you meant nothing to him?

You took a deep breath, trying to steel yourself against the pain that was slowly building inside of you. You knew that the two of you were never anything official, but you had thought that there was something there between you.

As the dinner continued, you couldn't shake the misery that had settled in your chest. You excused yourself with no explanation, abruptly getting up from the table, and made your way back to your room. Once you were alone, you let out a shaky breath, tears streaming down your face.

How could you have been so stupid? You had let yourself believe that there could be something real between you and Bucky, but clearly, you had been wrong. He was interested in Jewel and you were just a convenient friend. Being kept in a holding pattern until something better came along.

You collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your pillow as sobs wracked your body. How could you even face him now, knowing that he had no real interest in you beyond your friendship, after all the things you had done together? You didn't know if you could bear being in the same room with him, pretending like everything was okay between the two of you.

As you lay there, lost in your thoughts, you barely registered the sound of your phone buzzing from your bedside table. Picking it up, you saw you had a new message from Nat.

Do you want me to kill them?

You wiped away your tears, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Leave it to Natasha to offer such a straightforward solution. Despite your heartache, you couldn't help but appreciate her loyalty and fierce protectiveness.

You typed back:

No, as tempting as it might be. Thank you for offering, but I don't want you sent away for double homicide.

Her response was almost instantaneous:

I'm insulted you assume I'd get caught :)

The smiley face at the end was too much, and you actually laughed. You were so grateful to have her as your friend.

Thanks for having my back, Natty.

Any and every time, Pocket. You know that <3

Other texts started trickling in from the rest of your family. Everyone checking in to make sure you were okay, since you had left the table so suddenly and without giving a reason.

But none came from Bucky.

Your suite suddenly felt too small and hot-- you needed to get out, go somewhere that wasn't covered in memories of Bucky so that you could breathe. There was only one thing you did that always helped clear your head. You needed to go dancing.

You changed your clothes for the third time today, opting for a pair of skintight, red leather pants and a black halter top. You did your hair and put on some makeup-- just enough to mask that you'd been crying, but still enough to turn a man's head.

Shoving your phone, ID, and credit card into your back pocket, you left your room and headed back to the common room. You could have just texted Nat to ask her if she wanted to come with you, but you wanted to see Bucky's reaction to how you looked, if he even had one at all.

You were surprised to find the common room far emptier than you'd left it a little over an hour ago. It seemed as though, once dinner had ended, the gathering had broken up and people had started going their own way. Glancing around, you saw Nat standing by a window, looking out over the Manhattan skyline, but Bucky and Jewel were nowhere to be seen. You tried to ignore the rock that had taken up residence in your stomach.

"Natty," you called, getting her attention. She met you halfway across the room, a large grin spread across her face.

"Damn, girl," she let out a low whistle as she assessed your outfit. "You trying to give Barnes a heart attack?" she asked.

"No," you said, "I want to go dancing. I need to get out of my head. You want to come?"

"Absolutely, if only to keep you from making any decisions you might regret in the morning." She paused, assessing you. "He's walking her out, by the way. In case you were wondering where they were."

You had, but your stomach soured at the knowledge, all the same.

Down in the lobby, you were just about to call an Uber for you and Nat when you spotted Bucky standing off to the side with Jewel. They were standing far too close together for your liking. You hoped you could sneak by without attracting their attention, but Jewel caught sight of the two of you and began waving you over.

"Natasha!" she called (okay, so maybe she wasn't waving you over). "Come join us!"

Nat gave you a questioning look, silently asking what you wanted to do.

"Might as well," you muttered. "Night's already gone mostly to hell."

You and Nat made your way over to where Jewel and Bucky were standing.

"Did you come to say goodbye?" Jewel asked Nat, the eagerness in her voice palpable.

"Uh, no," Nat replied, obviously confused. "Pocket and I are heading out. We're going dancing."

"Oh. My. God." Jewel practically started jumping up and down. "Bucky, we should go dancing with her!" It wasn't lost on either you or Natasha that Jewel seemed to be purposefully excluding you from the conversation. Bucky, unsurprisingly, didn't seem to notice.

"Sorry," you said, suddenly struck with inspiration, "but the car's only a two-seater. Maybe next time."

Nat raised a questioning eyebrow at you as you picked your phone out of your pocket and dialed the Tower's garage. "Hey, Carl, it's Pocket.... Good, thanks... you?... Listen, can you have someone bring my Sergio to the front entrance? I'll be taking it out tonight... I know ... Great... thanks!" You ended the call and looked to Nat. "They'll bring the car up in just a minute."

Nat couldn't hide the grin that had spread across her face. "Finally! I have been dying to get my ass into that car forever!

"What's a Sergio?" Jewel asked. "I've never heard of it before."

"I wouldn't have expected you to," Nat said, giving Jewel a tight, fake smile. "Seeing as how Ferrari only ever made six of them."

"Pocket," Bucky said, the first words he'd spoken to you since you and Nat had arrived, "can I talk to you for a minute?" He took your arm and led you away from Nat and Jewel to a more secluded section of the lobby.

"What are you doing?" he asked, voice low and with a hint of warning behind it.

"Going dancing with Nat," you said simply.

"Come on, you never drive that car. You're too scared of damaging it. So, how come the first time you decide to take it for a spin is right in front of Jewel?"

"What are you insinuating, Bucky?" you asked defensively. He looked at you as though you were a child lying about who broke Grandma's favorite vase.

"You're pissed about the intern comment, so you want to flaunt how much money you make. That's really not like you, Pocket. I'm disappointed."

You were physically taken aback by his words. "You honestly think I'd do something like that?" you asked, incredibly offended he could think such a thing of you.

"I didn't think so, but..." he let the rest of the statement hang in the air.

"I called for the fucking car because I didn't want her just inviting herself to join Nat and me," you snapped. "It has absolutely nothing to do with showing off how much money I have."

Bucky ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "God, Pocket, would it kill you to be nice to her for just a minute? I don't understand why you have it out for her so badly."

"That girl has been nothing but nasty to me all day," you said through gritted teeth. "And if you haven't noticed that by now, nothing I say is going to make you see it." God, you were so disappointed in him. The hurt and betrayal you'd felt earlier had subsided and now you just felt... sad. Deflated. "I don't want to argue with you, Buck. Especially not about her. So, can we just agree to disagree on this, and Nat and I can be on our way? I'm sure you have more important things you'd rather be doing than giving me the third degree, anyway."

He crossed his arms, giving you a hard stare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Tilting your head, you pursed your lips and gave him a look. "Really? Everyone noticed it, Bucky. Everyone."

"Pocket!" Nat called out to you, preventing Bucky from responding to your insinuation. "Car's here!"

With a heavy sigh, you began to make your way to the front doors. "See you later, Barnes," you called over your shoulder. You were more than ready to get out of there and lose yourself in the music.

Hours later, you were coated in a sheen of sweat from dancing and completely and utterly shitfaced. You hadn't intended to get drunk, let alone this drunk, but once the alcohol started numbing your feelings, all you wanted to do was drown your emotions in it. Now, you were sitting in a booth in the club, head pressed against the wall, fighting to keep your eyes open. Nat had taken your phone and was talking to someone.

"Hey, it's Natasha. Can you do me a solid and meet up with us? ... Pocket's plastered and I don't know how to drive stick. ... It means I can't get her car home. ... She already shares her location with you, right? So just take an Uber. ... You can drive her back to the Tower and I'll take the Uber home. ... Did you forget how she dragged your ass home when you were drunk on Thor's Asgardian shit? ... I'd say you owe her. ... Text her phone when you get here; I'm holding onto it. ... Good, see you in a bit." She hung up and bent down so she was at eye level with you.

"Sweetie," she said gently, "don't be mad at me, but I called Bucky to come get you and bring your car home."

You scrunched up your face in disgust. "Bucky? Ew. I'm mad at him. He sucks."

"I know, honey, but he's the only other person I know who can drive stick who's awake at this hour, and your car's too expensive to leave in valet parking overnight." She brushed your hair away from your face as you turned to look at her.

"What's wrong with me, Natty?" you asked her, your emotions fighting their way back up through the haze of the alcohol.

"Nothing, Pocket. Honey, nothing's wrong with you. Why would you ask me that?" Nat's voice was full of concern.

"Why doesn't he love me, then? Why am I good enough to fuck, but not good enough to love?" The last of the words came out in a choked sob.

Nat wrapped her arms around you, rubbing her hands up and down your back in a soothing pattern. "You'd have to ask him that, sweetie. I can't answer it for him."

"It's 'cause I'm just a gross, used up whore," you told her. "'s all I've ever been good for-- sticking dicks in. Nothing else."

Nat held you at arm's length so she could look you in the eye. "Pocket, stop. That's Darren talking, not you, honey. You know that's not true."

"Then why doesn't he want me?" you hiccuped. "Fuck, Natty. 'm so in love with him, it hurts." There. You finally admitted it, not just to Nat, but to yourself. You were in love with your best friend, and you had been for a while now. You'd been too afraid to acknowledge it, to open yourself up to the idea that maybe you could have a real relationship with him, and now it was too late. He'd found someone else, and you'd missed any chance you might have had.

"I know, sweetheart," she said, embracing you again. "Everyone knew and, for what it's worth, we were all sure he felt the same way."

"He doesn't, though," you sniveled into her shoulder. "And why'd it have to be her? Natty, she's so awful. He could have anyone he wanted, why did he have to pick her?"

Natasha sighed. "Because he's a guy, and he thinks with his dick," she told you. "And since dicks don't have eyes, it makes it hard for men to see what someone like Jewel's really like. Especially when Jewel doesn't want them to."

You snorted, imagining Bucky's dick with googly eyes attached to it. "His dick was the best, Nat," you bemoaned. "I'm going to miss it so much. So many times, when we were finished, I couldn't even walk after."

It was Nat's turn to snort. "That does sound like some good dick, Pocket," she admitted.

"And his tongue," you sighed. "'s so long, you wouldn't believe--"

"Okay, Pocket, I think that's enough sharing, don't you?" You pouted but didn't say anything else.

Your phone buzzed then, and you looked all around for it before you watched Nat pull it from her pocket and look at the text you'd just received."

"Alright, Magic Dick's here," she said, taking your hands in hers and hoisting you up. "Up you go."

With her help, you stumbled out of the club, only tripping over your own feet twice, which you thought was fairly impressive, given the circumstances.

Outside, Bucky was waiting for you, a stony expression on his beautiful face. God, he looked so handsome. "Magic Dick," you whispered to Nat, then burst into a fit of drunken giggles that had you tripping over yourself all over again.

Bucky was immediately at your side, taking your weight off of Nat and putting it on him.

"Well, hey there, Magic Dick," you giggled. Bucky shot Nat a look over your head.

"How much has she had to drink?" he asked her.

Nat handed the valet the claim ticket for your car. "More than she should have, that's for sure."

While you waited for the valet to bring your Sergio around, Nat leaned down to look at you. "I'm going to get in the Uber now, Pocket. Bucky's gonna take you home, alright?"

You nodded and reached out to drunkenly stroke her face. "Okay, Natty-Nat. Love you."

"Love you, too, sweetheart." She kissed your forehead and headed for the waiting Uber. Before she got in, she turned to Bucky. "Don't give her any shit tonight, okay?" she ordered before closing the door, leaving you and Bucky to wait for the car alone.

"What's going on with you tonight, Pocket?" he asked. "You haven't been acting like yourself." The car pulled up and the valet held the door open for Bucky as he slid you into the passenger seat.

"Just wanted to dance," you murmured, tilting your head sideways to look at him as he fastened your seat belt. "Makes me feel better. And then there was alcohol. Oops."

Bucky let out a sigh as he closed the passenger door and made his way around to the driver's side. He had a point; you seldom got drunk. It reminded you too much of your mother, so you only ever let yourself get a little buzzed. But tonight was a special occasion.

Bucky pulled out of the lot and onto the street. Even at the late hour, New York was still alive with activity. You leaned your head on the windowsill and watched the lights as they passed by.

"You're supposed to be on my side, you know." The words were a whisper, and you'd spoken them into the night. If he had been anyone else, he wouldn't have heard you.

But he wasn't anyone else. He was Bucky. "I am on your side, Pocket. Always."

Though it felt incredibly heavy, you turned your head to face him. He looked so beautiful driving your convertible, the lights of the city reflecting off the lines of his face, the warm night breeze tickling his hair.

"You weren't tonight." Your voice was small, reflecting every bit of the self-doubt you'd felt over the course of the evening, every ounce of the pain.

Bucky sighed, his flesh hand gripping the steering wheel of the Sergio so tightly his knuckles were white. "I don't know what you want from me, Pocket."

You let out an exhausted sigh, the beautiful drunken haze fading from your system and leaving an ache in its wake. You're stomach growled and you remembered you hadn't eaten much dinner. "Can we get something to eat," you asked him, "and go somewhere to talk?" He nodded and changed course, heading away from the Tower.

A few minutes later, he pulled the Sergio into the well-lit parking lot of a 24-hour diner. Like lightning, he was out of the car and coming around to open your door before you'd even finished fumbling with your seat belt. He reached his flesh hand down to help you step out of the car, and to your surprise, didn't let go, hold your hand as you walked into diner together. Most likely making sure you didn't drunkenly fall on your ass and embarrass him, you thought.

Inside, the perky blonde hostess gave Bucky a long, appraising look while he asked for a table in the back. Even at this time of night, the diner was bustling with patrons. The sound of chatter and clinking cutlery filled the air, competing with the soft buzz of fluorescent lights overhead. Waitstaff hurriedly made their rounds, taking orders and carrying plates with a clatter of dishes.

When you reached the back, you slid into the booth the hostess directed you to, and instead of sitting across from you, Bucky slid in next to you. The hostess handed you your menus before casting a final, lingering glance at Bucky and walked off, leaving you alone with the super soldier and not sure what exactly you were going to say to him.

You unwrapped your silverware and began playing absentmindedly with the band that had been holding your napkin in place. You could feel Bucky's eyes on you, but you didn't turn to meet his gaze until you felt the fingers of his metal hand gently reach over and brush a strand of hair away from your face.

"You wanted to talk, doll," he said, softly, "so let's talk."

You bit your lip and turned to meet his eyes, the blue of them so soft and gentle as he looked at you. "I'm not saying this to attack you, Buck," you began, gathering your thoughts, "or to try and make you feel bad, but you really made me feel like shit tonight."

He swallowed thickly, but before he could answer you, your waitress approached the booth to take your order. You ordered a chicken Caesar wrap and a glass of chocolate milk for yourself; Bucky ordered a coffee and a large basket of waffle fries.

Once the waitress had left, Bucky turned back to you, taking your hand in his metal one and lacing your fingers together. "The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you," he told you. He brought your hand to his mouth, placing a tender kiss on your knuckle. "I'm sorry. I was a dick tonight. Finding out that Jewel has the same kind of abilities as I do... it made me feel less alone, like maybe I'm not just a fucked up science experiment that went horribly wrong."

"Buck..." you began, but he continued talking.

"It doesn't excuse how I treated you tonight, but I was so eager to get to know to her, to see how she copes with it. I've only ever had Steve to talk to about it, and Steve's... well..."

"Steve's fucking Captain America," you provided, understanding now where Bucky was coming from. "The perpetual boy scout. You don't want to open up to him about the darker stuff, because you're afraid it will change how he sees you."

Bucky closed his eyes and nodded. "He's already done so much to save me from the worst parts of myself; I don't want to burden him with any more than I already have."

You cupped his jaw with your hand. "Steve loves you, Buck. He will never see you as a burden. I promise you that."

He smiled at you, but it was sad. "I already cost him so much. More than you realize, Pocket. It just felt like, with Jewel, maybe I could have someone else to discuss those parts of myself with, someone I wasn't afraid of letting down."

Your first instinct was to be hurt that he felt he couldn't share those parts of himself with you, but you realized why he wasn't able to.

As if reading your thoughts, he said: "Please don't think it means that I want to share things with her instead of you, though. That will never be the case."

"But there are things that I'll just never be able to fully understand," you supplied, "because I'm not a super soldier. I understand."

He nodded, leaning his head down until his forehead was pressed against yours. "But I don't need to be friends with her," he said. "You said she was horrible to you, and I believe you. That's not the kind of person I want in my life. You're the most important thing in the world to me. I need you to know that."

You would have sworn you felt your heart momentarily stop. More important to him than Steve? Your cheeks grew warm at the implication.

"Bucky, I never want to be the kind of person who tells you who you can or can't be friends with. If talking to her helps you process whatever you need to process, then please, do it." You nuzzled your nose against his. "Just, you know, never flirt with her in front of me again."

He pulled his head back and looked at you, a knowing smirk plastered across his face. "Doll, are you telling me you're jealous?" You made a scoffing sound and playfully pushed him away from you. You were treading dangerously close to feelings territory, and you'd only just gotten back to a good place with him; you weren't about to risk it, but you weren't going to lie to him, either.

You ran a hand through his hair, leaning closer until your lips were pressed against the shell of his ear. "You know I've never been a good girl when it comes to sharing, Bucky," you breathed before taking his earlobe into your mouth and sucking on it.

Bucky let out a low groan and shot his metal hand over to possessively grasp your upper thigh, sending a shiver through you. "Be careful, doll," he growled in the way that had you clenching your legs together, "otherwise I'm liable to bend you over this table and fuck you so hard, you won't remember your own name."

You pulled away from him. "Promises, promises," you teased.

Before Bucky could follow through on his threat, the waitress returned with your orders. Without thinking, you handed Bucky half of your wrap at the same time he deposited a generous handful of waffle fries onto your plate. Catching your eye, he gave you an amused grin, and you both burst into laughter. The tension between you two seemed to dissipate, replaced by the comfortable banter you were used to.

The conversation throughout the meal was light, ranging from random anecdotes to plans for the next day. Occasionally, Bucky would say something that made you giggle uncontrollably, causing a few patrons to give you curious glances. But he just flashed them his charming smile, making most of them blush and turn away.

After finishing your meals, you scooted closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder as you watched the diner's activity. His arm automatically wrapped around you, pulling you closer into his side. You could hear his heart beating steadily in his chest, a soothing rhythm that made your eyes droop sleepily.

"You alright there?" Bucky asked softly, noticing your languidness. You hummed in response, too comfortable to move or open your eyes properly.

"Gettin' sleepy," you admitted as you tried to stifle a yawn. "'s been a long night."

"Then let's get you home before you turn into a pumpkin, princess." Bucky helped you out of the booth, then tucked you into his side so you could lean against him as you walked toward the counter to pay your bill. You tried to hand Bucky your Amex card, but he shooed your hand away. "I got it, doll. Least I can do after everything I put you through tonight."

You didn't argue with him, not because you didn't have the energy to, but because you knew it was his way of making amends. He settled the bill quickly, leaving a generous tip, then led you back out of the diner into the cool night air. You leaned against his sturdy form as he walked you both back to the Sergio, opening the door for you and helping you with your seat belt, despite your protests.

"I'm not that drunk anymore, Buck," you laughed as he leaned over you to click the belt into place.

"Damn it, woman, be quiet and let me take care of you!" He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before closing the door and making his way around to the driver's side.

Though the drive to the Tower wasn't very long, you quickly found yourself lulled into a comfortable stupor, your mind at peace for the first time in what what felt like weeks. You barely registered when Bucky pulled into the Tower's underground garage, or stopped to give the Sergio's keys to the night parking attendant. You were vaguely aware of him picking you up and cradling you in his arms as he carried you back to his room.

Once inside, he carefully helped you strip out of your pants and halter top and into one of his shirts. Once you'd changed, he tucked you both into his bed, curling his body against yours until you didn't know where his body ended and yours began.

"Better?" he asked, softness threading his voice. You hummed in response, half asleep as your body molded into his welcoming warmth.

A soft chuckle rumbled through his chest, "Sweet dreams, doll," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as he adjusted the sheets around you both. His metal arm wound under your pillow comfortably while the other rested on your waist, giving you a sense of protection that no fortress could offer.

You curled closer into him, snuggling into his broad chest like a kitten seeking warmth. His steady heartbeat and slow breathing became your lullaby, luring you closer to sleep with every second.

He stroked your hair gently as you fell off into sleep, whispering words of affection and apology into the quietness of the night.

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croissant-san · 4 days

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jujutsu kaisen is my favourite anime EVER in my life.

this is my first time ever posting on tumblr, I've been coming here for the past 2 years but I've been a silent reader but now I just have to say something.

I'm the biggest fan of jujutsu kaisen, I was, and today (23rd may) marks the day I drop it. Many of my friends know me as a super gojo fan, but I'll have to say, even if I wasn't a big fan of gojo, I would have dropped the manga at this point.

Let me make it clear, jujutsu kaisen is a REALLY REALLY good anime/manga. My favourite of all time, ever . But the plot twists went too far this time. Chapter 261, it made me lose faith in this manga and gege overall. Yes plot twists are great, yes gege pulled some dangerous ones off, but this one is really too far.

It's been long since gojo had been sliced by sukuna and gege finally gave us hope in 260 that gojo would be coming back, and we waited so excitedly for this chapter only to be disappointed and announced to our faces that gojo will never be coming back.

I understand that he's a side character, but why did you treat him like a main? Why did you overpower him then? For the thrill, yes. But this literally doesn't make any sense. Everyone's death was tragic, but gojo and getos were beyond acceptable.

The two best friends, continued to be used even after their death. Making it known to everyone that gojo was always just a weapon for the jujutsu world. There was a bounty on his head ever since he was born. He was the strongest. But that's what he only ever was. Gege, this is tragic. I have no other ways to describe this mangaka other than psychopathic, and sadistic.

We can't even say rest in peace gojo, because he's NOT. Even after his death, he's being used.

It doesn't make sense to me. If you kill everyone off, and only the villain remains, what's the point? Why did it all lead to this? Just a huge stunt to gain popularity and then just kill everyone but your favourite character, it's sadistic. In my opinion, most people were anticipating gojos return so that's why we kept reading, but now that it's confirmed that he won't return, alot of people are gonna drop your shit, gege. I hope you had fun gaining the popularity, but it's over now. The only way I'd engage with jjk content now is if I see posts or memes or tiktoks, that's it. I'm not gonna keep up with it anymore, or go back to it or read more into lore. This is it, my ending of jujutsu kaisen is when nanami died.

#jjk #jjk gojo #jjk anime #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #jjk chapter 260 #Jjk chapter 261 #jjk leaks #anime #manga #manga leaks #nanami kento #jjk nanami

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dagwolf · 3 months

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In any event, here's a tasty interview excerpt:

Speaking of doing a lot of different records and working with a lot of amazing songwriters, I own a ton of the records that you've done over the years. One, in particular, I'd like to ask you about is Paul Simon's Graceland. I obsessed over that thing when I was young. Do you have any recollections of working on it?

Oh, I have plenty of recollections of working on that one. I don't know if you heard the stories, but it was not a pleasant deal for us. I mean he [Simon] quite literally — and in no way do I exaggerate when I say — he stole the songs from us.

...

The interviewer's softball question leads to an extended rant that rolls on for over 1500 words. There's no clear way to verify Berlin's claims. But it's interesting to consider his characterization of Los Lobos' “collaboration” with Simon at a moment when the latter artist is being trumpeted as the latest hipster influence, like David Byrne and Gang of Four before him. It must be a heady moment for Simon. New York's much respected Brooklyn Academy of Music is feting him with a sold out month-long residency celebrating his post-Garfunkel career — a tribute fest that finds everyone from Byrne to Ladysmith Black Mambazo singing his songs, a residency whose final week — starting April 23rd — includes one of the top 10 ever most unlikely co-bills: Grizzly Bear, Gillian Welch, Josh Groban, and Olu Dara.

WTF, indeed.

After the jump, Steve Berlin's entire diatribe on Los Lobos' “collaboration” with Simon, including a rare dis of legendary former Warner Bros chief Lenny Waronker.

...

Really…

Yeah. And you know, going into it, I had an enormous amount of respect for the guy. The early records were amazing, I loved his solo records, and I truly thought he was one of the greatest gifts to American music that there was.

At the time, we were high on the musical food chain. Paul had just come off One Trick Pony and was kind of floundering. People forget, before Graceland, he was viewed as a colossal failure. He was low. So when we were approached to do it, I was a way bigger fan than anybody else in the band. We got approached by Lenny Waronker and Mo Ostin who ran our record company [Warner Bros.], and this is the way these guys would talk – “It would mean a lot to the family if you guys would do this for us.” And we thought, “Ok well, it's for the family, so we'll do it.” It sounds so unbelievably naïve and ridiculous that that would be enough of a reason to go to the studio with him.

We go into the studio, and he had quite literally nothing. I mean, he had no ideas, no concepts, and said, “Well, let's just jam.” We said, “We don't really do that.” When we jam, we'll switch instruments. Dave will play drums, I'll play something. We don't really jam. Especially in that era. Louie will be the first to tell you this – he was made to play drums. They forced him to play drums. He's not really a drummer by trade. He's never practiced a moment in his life. Not once in his life did he sit down at the drums because of his love for drumming. The other three guys made him play drums in the early days, so he sort of became drummer by default. He hates playing the instrument, I think. Again, you should ask him, but I don't ever ever, ever get the sense that he was one of those dyed-in-the-wool, John Bonham, let's-play-drums-for-three-days-straight kind of guys. So consequently, as the core band was comprised then, we never jammed – never ever. Not by accident, not even at soundcheck. We would always just play a song.

So Paul was like, “Let's just jam,” and we're like, “Oh jeez. Well alright, let's see what we can do.” And it was not good because Louie wasn't comfortable. None of us were comfortable, it wasn't just Louie. It was like this very alien environment to us. Paul was a very strange guy. Paul's engineer was even stranger than Paul, and he just seemed to have no clue – no focus, no design, no real nothing. He had just done a few of the African songs that hadn't become songs yet. Those were literally jams. Or what the world came to know and I don't think really got exposed enough, is that those are actually songs by a lot of those artists that he just approved of. So that's kind of what he was doing. It was very patrician, material sort of viewpoint. Like, because I'm gonna put my stamp on it, they're now my songs. But that's literally how he approached this stuff.

I remember he played me the one he did by John Hart, and I know John Hart, the last song on the record. He goes, “Yeah, I did this in Louisiana with this zy decko guy.” And he kept saying it over and over. And I remember having to tell him, “Paul, it's pronounced zydeco. It's not zy decko, it's zydeco.” I mean that's how incredibly dilettante he was about this stuff. The guy was clueless.

Wow. You're kidding me?

Clue… less about what he was doing. He knew what he wanted to do, but it was not in any way like, “Here's my idea. Here's this great vision I have for this record, come with me.”

About two hours into it, the guys are like, “You gotta call Lenny right now. You gotta get us out of this. We can't do this. This is a joke. This is a waste of time.” And this was like two hours into the session that they wanted me to call Lenny. What am I going to tell Lenny? It was a favor to him. What am I going to say, “Paul's a fucking idiot?”

Somehow or other, we got through the day with nothing. I mean, literally, nothing. We would do stuff like try an idea out and run it around for 45 minutes, and Paul would go “Eh… I don't like it. Let's do something else.” And it was so frustrating. Even when we'd catch a glimpse of something that might turn into something, he would just lose interest. A kitten-and-the-string kinda thing.

So that's day one. We leave there and it's like, “Ok, we're done. We're never coming back.” I called Lenny and said it really wasn't very good. We really didn't get anything you could call a song or even close to a song. I don't think Paul likes us very much. And frankly, I don't think we like him very much. Can we just say, 'Thanks for the memories' and split?” And he was like, “Man, you gotta hang in there. Paul really does respect you. It's just the way he is. I'll talk to him.” And we were like, “Oh man, please Lenny. It's not working.” Meanwhile, we're not getting paid for this. There was no discussion like we're gonna cash in or anything like that. It was very labor-of-love.

Really…?

Yeah. Don't ask me why. God knows it would have made it a lot easier to be there.

And Lenny put you guys together thinking it would be a good match?

Well, “It would be good for the family.” That was it. So we go back in the second day wondering why we're there. It was ridiculous. I think David starts playing “The Myth of the Fingerprints,” or whatever he ended up calling it. That was one of our songs. That year, that was a song we started working on By Light of the Moon. So that was like an existing Lobos sketch of an idea that we had already started doing. I don't think there were any recordings of it, but we had messed around with it. We knew we were gonna do it. It was gonna turn into a song. Paul goes, “Hey, what's that?” We start playing what we have of it, and it is exactly what you hear on the record. So we're like, “Oh, ok. We'll share this song.”

Good way to get out of the studio, though…

Yeah. But it was very clear to us, at the moment, we're thinking he's doing one of our songs. It would be like if he did “Will the Wolf Survive?” Literally. A few months later, the record comes out and says “Words and Music by Paul Simon.” We were like, “What the fuck is this?”

We tried calling him, and we can't find him. Weeks go by and our managers can't find him. We finally track him down and ask him about our song, and he goes, “Sue me. See what happens.”

What?! Come on…

That's what he said. He said, “You don't like it? Sue me. You'll see what happens.” We were floored. We had no idea. The record comes out, and he's a big hit. Retroactively, he had to give songwriting credit to all the African guys he stole from that were working on it and everyone seemed to forget. But that's the kind of person he is. He's the world's biggest prick, basically.

So we go back to Lenny and say, “Hey listen, you stuck us in the studio with this fucking idiot for two days. We tried to get out of it, you made us stay in there, and then he steals our song?! What the hell?!” And Lenny's always a politician. He made us forget about it long enough that it went away. But to this day, I do not believe we have gotten paid for it. We certainly didn't get songwriting credit for it. And it remains an enormous bone that sticks in our craw. Had he even given us a millionth of what the song and the record became, I think we would have been – if nothing else – much richer, but much happier about the whole thing.

Have you guys seen him since then?

No. Never run into him. I'll tell you, if the guys ever did run into him, I wouldn't want to be him, that's for sure.

That's an amazing story. I can't believe I never heard it before.

We had every right and reason to sue him, and Lenny goes, “It's bad for the family.” When we told the story in that era, when this was going down, we were doing interviews and telling the truth. And Lenny goes, “Hey guys, I really need you to stop talking about it. It's bad for the family.”

Amazing. Talk about bad for the family.

I know. Again, it's just so incredible how naïve we were back then. You can't even imagine that era of music when you'd actually listen to your record company president who told you to shut up because “it's bad for the family.” Now, I'd tell him to go fuck himself.

#paul simon #super prick

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aerodumb · 1 year

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Wade/Nancy is an artist who's been surrounded by negative opinions. She currently works under the username Grisgrisdoll, but she's widely known as the name that haunts her past, Kastoway.

I've seen many, many accusations being thrown online against this artist, but I noticed that for many people spreading them this knowledge is secondhand. I found her Deviantart account some time after she changed her username to Kastoway in the beginning of 2014 due to my hyperfixation on creepypastas at the time. I never actually followed her, but I visited her account every now and then, so if I missed something important, it was because of that and I will be glad if you tell me. In this post, I'll list the incidents in chronological order *with evidence* and then give my own opinion at the end.

One thing to know about Wade is that she has had many different names and usernames throughout her life. In addition, she is comfortable with people using either "she", "he" or "they" to refer to her. I'll be alternating the pronouns and using both her names.

He was 13 when she created Ticci Toby [1]. He posted her first drawing of him on the 19th of November 2012 on DeviantArt [2] and Toby's origin story one year later on the 23rd of May 2013 [3]. Wade changed the personality of Toby to make him less upbeat, more tragic and more scary. One of the first instances where he showed discomfort with how people portrayed Toby that I remember was in a publication she posted on the last day of 2013 [4]. This situation ended up with a small redesign of Toby on 5th of February 2014 [5].

She took a short break from DeviantArt around July [6]. It was this year when her creepypasta blew up out of proportion. Previously, she had expressed her desire for Toby to only be shipped with another creepypasta character called Clockwork. However, many people didn't like Clockwork and didn't respect this wish, leading her to further getting tired of the creepypasta community. By october of the same year, her Deviantart bio said: "Most people know me as the creator of the creepypasta story "Ticci-Toby"-- which yes I am, but I prefer not to be constantly called out for it nor only recognized or appreciated for it. I do not contribute to the creepypasta fandom anymore so please don't ask me about it. Thank you" [7].

One issue that is frequently overlooked when discussing Wade's actions is her problem with impersonators, as she stated on a status in November [8].

On 14th of December 2014 he made a post trying to solve all the turmoil that had formed because of shipping [9]. He stated that he had asked people not to ship Toby with anyone but Clockwork because that was what he was comfortable with, but he realized that decision was pointless and didn't care at this point. The situation had gone out of control and there were people bashing creators who shipped Toby with others or with their own characters. He apologized to the hurt and asked people to stop the white knighting. In addition, he recognized "I wasn't prepared for my character to become popular on the internet. I really wasn't. I never thought it would happen and I'm still not good at dealing with it. In fact I suck at it, it's true". He was 15 at the moment.

In 2015, they got into Marvel, even having a tumblr blog where she drew Deadpool replying the asks of her followers. At the end of their bio, it could be read: "I will not reply to notes or comments regarding Ticci-Toby or anything Creepypasta related, sorry." [10]. This message was deleted months later, so their profile didn't mention Toby or creepypasta anymore. They kept the folder for her creepypasta drawings in their gallery tagged as "old".

In April 2016, he had to warn the general public that Toby wasn't real and that he was his creator [11]. People had been spreading misinformation, saying that Toby was real or was based on a real person. Wade feared that something like the tragedy of Wisconsin could happen again, it was a serious concern.

In May, Nancy made a post saying that people could still ask her about Toby [12], but later in June that year, she decided to step off the internet with the purpose of trying to improve her life, archiving the majority of her work [13]. Later in 2017, she updated her bio to let people know about her new instagram account where she mostly posts original art. It was at this point when I stopped checking her content completely, as this account, called bonejars at the beginning, was private for a while. She hasn't been very active on DeviantArt apart from the times she announced her podcast.

On the porch: Episode 2, 16 April 2020, started a wave of negativity against them. I didn't watch it at the time and it is now private so I can't say much about it, but they did some clarifications on her instagram stories later. Many users took screenshots of them and they can still be read [14]. In them, Nancy says that they came to terms many years ago with the ships, that they left the fandom because all of the drama made them miserable and that they'd wish Toby to no longer be associated with the creepypasta fandom. Despite this, they don't want people to stop doing what makes them happy, they said they're ok with headcanons and people reinterpreting the character, that they like the fanart as long as people don't profit from it. They said "I know what escapism is like and using fiction to cope with life. I would never wanna take that away from anybody". Later, they had to make further clarifications because people accused them of wanting to take Toby away from the fandom.

On 25 abril 2021, Nancy posted a new redesign of Toby on his Instagram account [15]. This version of him was significantly different from the last one. The character is older, wears different clothes and looks more realistic due to Nancy's art style development. With this design, he looks like a character from a slasher.

Many people weren't pleased with the redesign due to thinking the reason for it was to invalidate the previous one. Consequently, they brought to the surface controversies from the past. Nancy was accused of having supported two controversial figures in the creepypasta community: Laughing Jack's creator Steve Aikins (Snuffbomb) and Sally Williams' creator Shilo (la_mishi_mish).

Steve presumably harassed his ex-girlfriend and talked indecently with several young girls back in 2014 [16]. I haven't found evidence of Wade supporting him and I can't remember exactly what she said. If someone has screenshots of it, I would be grateful.

Shilo used to draw NSFW art of Sally [17]. This character is canonically 8, so she usually aged her up in this kind of content. However, she posted a compilation of sketches depicting Sally and Jeff the Killer having sex in 2015, stating it was ok for them to have intercouse because they were both 13. Shilo was 22 at the time. Several sources indicate that she stopped drawing mature content due to social pressure. Nancy and Shilo follow each other on instagram to this day.

There haven't been more references to Toby on Nancy's part since then.

◇ Ok people, get the pitchforks because now I'm gonna give my opinion!

So, what can we accuse Wade of? Of being an idiot and a hypocrite when he was a teenager, of having bad companies and managing fame poorly. I don't think we can blame them for anything else and feel that a big part of the hate they receive is undeserved.

I think she was a hypocrite because she got angry with an interpretation of Toby that she had at the beginning. What's more, Toby's story uses an interpretation of Slenderman that was invented by the fandom, proxies are not canon. It's like a fanfic of a series inspired by just a couple of photos.

Still following Shilo is yikes. However, we don't really know if they're still close and I'm personally gonna give her the benefit of the doubt. Defending Steve was a bad move, but, as some people have pointed out before, he was a teen when that happened, way younger than Steve and she could have been convinced to think he was innocent. Shilo is older too.

Being that young, she wasn't prepared for facing the bad sides of fame. Ignoring stuff, going radio silent and then saying things in the heat of the moment didn't help her a bit, but it was all that occurred to her at the time. She's tried to explain things in more detail in recent years just to go back to saying as little as possible because at this point, people get angry for whatever she says.

People say they're homophobic. Their instagram account refutes it.

People say he was mean and insulted the fandom. I remember reading a couple of statuses on DA that I thought were insensitive, but that was a long time ago. People grow and he's changed his mind a lot as you can read in his instagram stories. If you say these things referring to the post where he told people Toby wasn't real, I'm sorry, but I think he had all the right to be harsh. People said Slenderman was real, it ended up in a tragedy and now the same things were being said about Toby. Can you imagine how it's to feel you're responsible for someone's death? He was trying to protect people.

People say she went after artists that portrayed Toby in a different way than hers, yet every time she's said something that ended up hurting people, she took responsibility and apologized for it. I don't believe this person could go and directly hurt someone. Remember what I said before about her issues with impersonators and people white knighting? That could be what's happening. Even now she has problems with people pretending they know her, so be careful!

People say they have abandoned the character many times. It's true they've said they didn't want to talk about Toby on four different occasions, but I don't think they did it with that intention. Why did they redesign him then? The design we all know is inevitably tied to the creepypasta community and they want to move on from it, that's why they didn't want to talk about him. Now they made a version of the character that isn't tied to that world, so we have two Tobies, one for them and one for us. I think that's cool!

Many don't like that they can't use the old version to earn money, but I want them to understand that this is a really particular situation. Usually, people making commissions of characters that aren't theirs isn't a problem when the creator is getting money on their own (unless you're Disney, Disney has no chill). This isn't Wade's case, she has never been monetary compensated for creating or drawing Toby and she has the right of choosing not to allow the commercial use of her characters. "Give for free what you were given for free" is a rule that makes sense in this case.

I don't expect anyone to stop disliking Wade, you're free to feel whatever you want, but at least I hope that this post helps people to see that all of this is more dimensional than just "kastoway is evil". At the end of the day, she's just a dude that fucked up many times and I think her experiences can help us to not commit the same errors.

◇ Here you have all the evidence

[1] Wade's age (look at the replies)

[2] First art of Toby

[3] Toby's Origin on Kastoway's DA

[4] Post where Wade complains about the difference between fanon and canon Toby

[5] Updated Toby design

[6] Wade's DA on hiatus

[7] Wade saying he doesn't want to be known just for creating Toby

[8] Wade complaining about impersonators

[9, 11] Nancy clarifying the issues with shipping and people saying Toby was real (look at section "Kastoway and his creation")

[10] Nancy saying he won't reply asks about Toby

[12] Nancy apologizing and saying ask about Toby are welcomed

[13] Nancy announcing her departure

[14] Nancy's deleted instagram stories

[15] Toby's new design

[16] About Laughing Jack's creator

[17] About Sally's Creator

#very long post #4 pages long #kastoway #ticci toby #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta characters #creepypastas #deep dive

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hyp-no-tic · 1 month

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GMMTV 2024 PART 2 - BINGO

For the upcoming event on April 23rd (which I'm not going to be able to watch live 😭😭😭)

I was quite pleased with part 1 🌈🥰 And let's be real, I've got no time to make another bingo card for part 2 so here's what's left of my first card!

Thanks again to @icouldhyperfixatehim for creating this awesome bingo card.

Things I’m fairly sure we’re getting:

Firstkhao series (pretty much confirmed)

Mark fucking Pakin KISSING (it looks like we're getting MarkOhm??)

(And that's it since I've had no time to snoop on social media recently and anyway I looove to be surprised)

And yes I'm aware we're not getting a Fluke Pusit main role since my man moved on from GMMTV since then (to get himself his own main role: bravo!!)

Things I would really like to see:

P'Jojo said somewhere that he’d like to do a domestic cutesy BL, please give the man what he wants. As a general rule, GMMTV should just let Jojo do whatever Jojo wants to do, period.

P’Aof once said in a interview that he would like to work with actors he hasn’t work with yet and that among gmmtv he hadn’t had the chance to work with Gun (or Krist) soooooooooo this could be the year is what I’m saying.

PLEASE give me something by the BMF production team (P'Waa Waasuthep, who also directed The Gifted) because Be My Favorite is definitely one of my favorite series, it was perfect.

Another more politically oriented drama (à la The Eclipse, Not Me)

Since remakes are in right now, you know what I would love a Thai take on? Color Rush! I really liked this KBL, it had SUCH an interesting premise but… *sigh* it was way too short to be impactful imo (the vibe of the show though omg). (P'Nuchy? P'Golf?)

More trans characters with great supporting roles/strong storylines, more non-binary characters

More QUEER ELDERS!! Different generations of queer interacting (ex: the gay uncles in My Ride the series, they were EVERYTHING)

Already completed in Part 1 :

EARTHMIX: Ossan's Love TH

ADULT LIFE BL (post uni): The Trainee, Peaceful Property, Ossan's Love TH, Wandee Goodday, hell I'll put Pluto in it too!

GEMINIFOURTH: My Love Mix-Up!

OFFGUN and TAYNEW: separately but whatever it counts (and anyway it was a wishful dream)

NEO SERIOUS ROLE: Am I splitting hair? Who's knows? But it does not look like he's playing a clown in My Golden Blood, gimme baseball bat!Neo

1 GL NEW SHIP: Pluto (plus several side couples!!)

MAGICAL REALISM BL: My Golden Blood's more supernatural but saaaaaaaaame

NEW WTF SHIP: JossGawin + NamtanFilm

GAWIN CASKEY MAIN ROLE: My Golden Blood

WINNYSATANG + AOUBOOM + ENSEMBLE BL CAST: We Are the series

#gmmtv 2024 #gmmtv 2024 part 2 #thai bl #bl drama #firstkhao #bingo #gmmtv #wishlist

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91nighthawk · 6 months

Text

My son's 23rd birthday

To start I'd like to inform you all that today was my son's 23rd birthday, so as you can imagine the days been quite busy for me. Sadly he isn't home now, he had made plans to go drinking with friends and theirs a fair chance he won't be back till the morning. However that doesn't mean I didn't give him the best birthday I could while he was here.

I'm not gonna lie, I've slowly been feeling equal parts anxious and excited for this all week. Now with everything come and gone I honestly feel a strange sense of calm and happiness. For a little refresh on everything that's gotten us here, I'll put a link to my [First](https://reddit.com/r/Incestconfessions/s/rBQwfhqT0H) and [Last](https://reddit.com/r/Incestconfessions/s/kawhjcvttU) post.

The day started out simple with the both of us waking up in our bed and me wishing him a happy birthday. He told me about his plans with his friends and while I was a little disappointed, I reminded myself that this was his day. We got up and headed to the livingroom where I began to cook his favorite breakfast. He was acting affectionate holding me from behind while I cooked and he asked what his present would be. I don't know if he had a feeling about what I was planning but it didn't matter, I wanted to do something special for him.

I told him that his gift was simple, as of today he would be the true man of the house.. and as the man of the house, whatever he wants goes. He took a moment to think on this before reaffirming that I truly meant anything, which I did.

It didn't take long after that before he chose to test the waters, while holding me from behind he simply said that he'd like to see me without panties. The request definitely aroused me, but with as much composure as I could muster I accepted and slid off my panties. As he reached down and began to play with my clit, he told me that he'd like me to stay like this for him today. Which I of course nodded to in agreement, spending the rest of the day with my ass and pussy out for him.

The day was intense after this as I found myself at the mercy of my son's deepest fantasies. He fingered me, licked me, kissed me.. made me suck him and stroke him until he came, each time doing so on my pussy. As the sun began to fall I felt filthy down there, my pussy was sticky with his loads and I smelled like his property. Yet he still hadn't done what I figured he would do.. I began to think maybe he didn't feel he was ready.

I won't lie, I began to feel a little disappointed but I wasn't about to force something like this on my son so if that's how the day would go then so be it. It was an hour left until he would be leaving with his friends and I was getting some stuff ready for a shower. Then suddenly as I'm gathering a change of clothes I hear my bedroom door shut.

He moves quick and pins me back against my dresser kissing me deeply and roughly, his hand reaching for my bare bottom and squeezing. At this moment I began to regret all the lessons I'd been giving him, as he seemed to know his way around my body nearly as well as me. Finally he led me back to my bed and pushed me onto it as he took down his pants and pushed his cock against my cum soaked clit. I felt like a nervous virgin here breathing heavily as my son slowly prodded my entrance, looking in my eyes before dropping the biggest bomb I'd ever heard. He said that he knows about my reddit account, and with that, I felt every inch of my son's cock slowly squeeze into my pussy.

I was out of practice, I hadn't been fucked in years at this point, so to feel myself being entered like this was enough to make me cum hard. He began to whisper, calling me his slutty mom, his soulmate, his bitch! He rocked in and out of me at a steady forceful pace, pushing as deep as he could with each thrust making my toes curl! I wrapped my legs around him as I moaned and whimpered my son's name, my pussy aching around him as I closed my eyes!

He went on telling me that he wants me to make a new post tonight, a post telling every one of my fans about how much I loved being fucked by my own son. How I've always wanted this deep down, and how I don't want him to find another girl, that I wanna be his only girl! He said if I promised to do that, then he'd give me what I really wanted.. so I agreed.

With that he pulled out of me and had me bend over on my bed, sticking my ass up as he knelt behind me, in an instant sliding his cock back into me! He fucked me! He fucked me so hard! I came over and over! I think it had to have been three or four times total, but at this point they were so frequent that they blended together. I felt my legs shaking as his cock slammed in me and his hands gripped my hips tightly! He said that he loves me, that he's always loved me, and that he was about to fill me.. just like I wanted.

I whimpered and gasped out desperate please for it, I begged my son to cum in me! With that, his cock slammed balls deep and I felt the sensation of his throbbing cock shooting his cum into my womb. It was by far the greatest orgasm I've ever experienced, and the taste of my boys lips after made it all the sweeter.. ❤️

We spent some time like that.. connected and close as a mother and son could ever be. He told me that I shouldn't shower tonight, that way I could keep his scent till he got back.. it was a filthy suggestion, but I followed my mans orders. After awhile I cleaned his cock off and sent him on his way to hang out with friends while I returned to my room.

Only now as I fulfill his request and take the time to think on what happened have I begun to consider that, all this may have been his plan. I don't wanna go into it.. but, I think hes truly gotten me to fall for him. I'm laying here typing this, drooling at the idea of him coming back home to me his mother, his lover! I feel like a needy housewife.. and honestly it's the happiest I've felt in a long time.

I don't want this to end.. I love my Nathan more than I could ever love any other man and no matter where he wants to take us, I'll go. With that tho, I'll be laying here waiting for my lover to come home, hoping that he reads this while out with his friends. Knowing that at home he has a mother and a lover eager awaiting her mans return.

I love you Nathan, don't stay out too late.. ❤️❤️❤️

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

Text

The Silver Dragon (41/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 8030

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: On the first day they have spent apart since they were wed, Aemond and Arianwyn fly far away from each other on missions for the new King.

Warnings: none, unless you count frat-boy-esque characters

Author's Note:

I'm back! And I'm so, SO sorry for the wait!!! Those few days I warned y'all about kind of turned into an impromptu hiatus! But, I hope that the veritable FEAST I'm about to give y'all will make up for it.

The story of what Aria and Aemond get up to on their respective missions was originally going to be just two, regular sized chapters (one for Aria, one of Aemond). But… it kinda turned into a monster as I was writing.

So, instead of two single-POV chapters, y'all are getting a three-parter! Both Aria and Aemond have roughly equal time in each, so you won't have to go without either of them. Today, I'm posting the first part. Part II will follow tomorrow, and part III the day after. Each chapter is longer than any that have come before it. This one is just over 8K, part II is a WHOPPING 18K, and part III should be coming in at around 10K…

Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3 @trap-house-homiecide @50svibes @literishdegree99 @dc-marvel-girl96 @henriettadreaming @multiple-fandoms-girl @gyuxmilk @somemydayy @kittykylax @whore-of-many-hot-men @slavicvvitch @crazymusicgirl104

(Please let me know if your tag isn't working, and I'll do my best to correct it! And if you would like to be added to the list, just shoot me an ask!)

Three Days, Part I

On the 23rd day in the ninth month, 136 years after Aegon’s conquest…

As she soared over the Westerosi countryside, Arianwyn found herself wishing that the Vale and the Eyrie were somehow further away so that she and Emrys could stay in the skies for even longer.

But there it was.

Just coming into view was a great expanse of sparkling blue-green water, bounded on either side by a patchwork of towering sandy dunes, salty marshlands, small fishing villages built entirely upon stilts, and a hundred small streams.

The Bay of Crabs. The border separating the Crownlands from the Vale – her adopted home from the place of her birth and the land of her ancestors.

Some small part of her that still yearned for adventure and unrestricted freedom urged her to turn Emrys from his path. If she turned east, it would only take a few hours to reach Essos. If she followed the water to the west, she would find herself at the mouth of the Trident in the Riverlands.

Perhaps another day, she and Emrys would pick one of the river’s forks on a whim and follow it to its end – with Aemond and Vhagar beside them.

But today, she had a mission.

She hadn’t held Emry’s reins for hours – hadn’t needed to. After they had left King’s Landing, she only needed to direct him once. North and ever so slightly east. Then she had simply let him fly.

He needed no encouragement beyond that. For so long, he had been restricted by Daemon’s threats against him, his cherished rider, and her home. He could hardly go half a mile from Dragonstone’s shores before fear gripped them both, and he had rarely been in the air for more than a few hours. Now, he was flying further than he ever had before.

It was not entirely a blessing.

They had left not long after dawn, and it had only been a short while since the sun reached its zenith, but his wings were aching with effort and overuse. After one particularly strong beat of his wings, to combat the wind he was flying against – a shooting pain went through his right shoulder, and he faltered a bit, causing Arianwyn to sit up in her seat and seize the reins again. He let out an apologetic roar, struggling to right himself and fly steady.

“Issa sȳz, Emrys,” Arianwyn called over the roaring wind. “Iksan sȳz. Issi ao?” It is fine, Emrys. I am fine. Are you?

He grunted in reply, the sound strained.

She sighed and leaned forward to pat the scales of his side. “Iksan sīr vaoreznuni, ñuha byka ossȳngnon. Iksi va naejot Wickenden. Kessa daor sagon bōsa, se pār kostā emagoniā mība ēdrugon.” I am so sorry, my little dread. We are near to Wickenden. It will not be long, and then you can have a short rest.

Indeed, Otto had anticipated this. That either Emrys or Arianwyn would tire before they reached their destination. The Hand had therefore sent a raven to the Lord of House Waxley, asking if they would host the newest Targaryen princess – and Lady of Runestone – for an afternoon tea as she made her way to the Eyrie.

Lord Waxley had been all too eager to accept. Wickenden had never had the honor of hosting a member of the Royal house before. It had been planned for King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne to visit during one of their many progresses, but an assassination attempt on the Good Queen had ended the tour before they had been able to visit the castle – which was conveniently located just over halfway between King’s Landing and the Eyrie.

As they flew over the Bay of Crabs, Emrys flying valiantly, Arianwyn made a note to thank Otto for his foresight when she returned. She whispered encouragement and praise, laughing at the dragon’s eager yelps as they finally began to descend toward the picturesque town, the humble stone castle that looked over it, and the great fleet of beehives that stood like soldiers in the fields beyond.

A large bonfire had been lit in one of the fields on the western side of the town – the signal for where Emrys should land. He did not need Arianwyn’s encouragement to aim toward it, but she had to pull up on his reins to ensure he didn’t descend too quickly. His tail, tipped with the same horns that ran from the crest of his head down his spine, came dangerously close to tearing through their beautifully thatched roofs and ensuring that a Targaryen would never again be invited to Wickenden.

Lord and Lady Waxley themselves were waiting in the field to receive them with genuinely warm formalities. They were older, bordering on truly elderly, but in good health. Both had a friendly air about them, and their cheeks were flushed as they gazed in awe at the dragon before them.

Every person who beheld Emrys bore that same look.

Regardless of their education, every person in Westeros knew of the Balerion, the mighty black dragon that had won the Seven Kingdoms for Aegon the Conqueror. Whose fires had melted the very stones of Harrenhal and forged the Iron Throne itself. Nearly two hundred years old at his death, he had been the last living creature who had known the glory of Old Valyria.

Though Emrys was smaller, younger, and had no great feats to his name, no one could look at him and not recall the legends of Balerion the Black Dread.

Arianwyn had a sneaking suspicion that he somehow understood why people looked at him with such amazement and that he relished in it. Why else would he always preen as he did now?

Emrys let out a pompous huff as he stood tall despite the ache in his muscles, and Arianwyn was sure he was holding a great breath in his chest to make himself seem larger than he was.

However, his posturing ended when Lord Waxley summoned a wagon full of chained goats and large barrels of water. Emrys, exhausted from their flight, eagerly bounded toward where knights began to unload his provisions. He was so thirsty that he shattered one of the water barrels between his teeth as he hurried to gulp it down.

Arianwyn gave her flustered apologies for his inelegant behavior to her hosts. They were overly gracious and assured her it was unnecessary, seemingly relieved that her fearsome beast was indeed not fearsome, but rather more like an excessively large, frighteningly deadly herding dog. Albeit, one not quite fully trained.

Emrys was fully trained, technically, but still filled with youthful wonder and joy at the world. He was not a creature of war, and Arianwyn was glad of it.

Dragons were not weapons, though her ancestors had so often used them as such. And they were more than beasts of burden or even beloved pets. They were more akin to peers than any other animal. Companions, partners, friends. Viserys had told her something of the like once, not long after she had taken her first flight.

But looking back at her friend as she climbed into the Waxley’s carriage to ride to their castle for a short visit and some refreshments, Arianwyn realized that the mission they were on suggested that neither of them may have a choice.

War was looming. If it came, Emrys might very well be forced to become a creature of war.

Arianwyn was repulsed by the thought. She let that revulsion and fear settle within her, let it become something heavy and sharp in her gut. It made her muscles tense, her heart beat faster, and her mind race.

She savored the feeling. Though it was uncomfortable, it sat well next to her burning desire to bend to Aemond’s wish to go to Runestone together – to leave the court and King’s Landing behind. She had not realized how much it appealed to her until she let herself imagine Emrys in the moorlands of Runestone, flying along its coasts and resting in its Dragonpit.

Emrys would love it there, especially if Vhagar was there with him. The old dragon would, of course, join them as well. And for the first time in decades, she would not be alone.

Smiling at her hosts, Arianwyn silently vowed that she would do anything to succeed in her mission – for Emrys and Vhagar, Aemond and herself, and the peace they all wanted.

Vhagar was old, and slower than she once was due to her massive size, but she still loved to fly. Aemond had to laugh each time she trilled joyfully whenever they caught a strong updraft or passed through a group of clouds. At least she could still fly fast enough that the lingering water from the clouds dried within moments.

Still, the flight to Storm’s End was longer than she was used to, and her vocalizations had become less joyful and more irritable the closer they got to their destination.

Her groans of protest as they ascended higher to fly over the mountains of the Crownlands were particularly crass – or they likely would have been had she been able to speak rather than roar. Aemond had no doubt that if Vhagar could form words, she would delight in cursing like a Braavosi sailor.

“Kesi jiōragon konīr aderelo jī toliot,” he shouted to her as he slackened his grip on the reins. “Yn lo ao drējī jaelagon naejot, kosti jikagon grevenka.” We will get there sooner if we go over. But if you truly want to, we can go around.

Vhagar’s answering growl echoed through the stone of the mountains. If anyone below had heard, they would be terrified. Aemond, who knew by now what each noise meant, was only vaguely annoyed.

The sooner I can get you off my back, the better, she had seemed to say.

He rolled his eye and tugged on her reins – not to give any order or direction, but to show her he did not appreciate her sentiments.

“Issa daor ñuha gaomilaksir bona iksā uēpa se ēdrugī,” he laughed. “Se nyke gīmigon ao jorrāelagon nyke, se ao jorrāelagon issare isse se jēdar. Iksā biare naejot sagon kesīr lēda nyke, se ao daor ruaragon ziry.” It is not my fault that you are old and tired. And I know you love me, and you love being in the sky. You are happy to be here with me, and you cannot hide it.

Indeed, she could not hide it. But she could huff delightedly as she spun herself around, flexing her wings just right to keep her airborne as she crested the mountain peak upside down. She roared with glee when Aemond finally began shouting for her to right herself.

“Vhagar, kesā mazverdagon nyke ropagon lo jā olvie tolī,” he screamed as the blood rushed to his head, and he strained to keep his hands on the horns of the saddle. “Kostilus? Iksan vaoreznuni!” You will make me faint if you go much further. Please? I’m sorry!

Satisfied, she righted herself. She was impressed by how long he had lasted. He was getting better. Soon, he may be able to go longer than even Visenya had. She gave a low roar.

Very good, little Prince. You shall be fierce yet.

Aemond rolled his eye again as he smoothed down his hair, but his heart swelled with pride. If only Arianwyn had been there to see that, she would have proclaimed him the dragonriding superior to the Conqueror then and there.

His chest tightened at the thought of his sweet wife alone on her journey, hundreds of miles away from him. By now, she would be in Wickenden or, ideally, already departed from it. He hoped she would not linger there too long, for the thought of her arriving at the Eyrie in the dark – or worse, getting lost in the mountains at night – was unbearable.

At the thought, his hand drifted to the hilt of his dagger. He had intended to send it with her so he could offer her at least some protection. But Ser Ruban beat him to it, giving her the first dagger he had ever owned as they climbed into the carriage. It was obviously made for a boy not yet grown, and as such, was the perfect size for Arianwyn.

She had protested, insisting that such an heirloom should be passed down to his own sons, but Ruban had vowed he had no intention to marry or sire sons and that it would be the greatest honor of his life for her to wield the blade. Who could have refused that?

Still, Aemond was glad, in the end, to have his dagger with him, for it reminded him of Arianwyn. She had bit down on the hilt so hard when he was buried between her thighs that she had left teeth marks in the leather and dented the gold wire wrapped around it.

Normally, such an imperfection would have frustrated Aemond to no end. But nothing she ever did could ever be called imperfect. He ran his thumb over the marks, his heart lightening at the memories it brought back. If she had thought he was ravenous yesterday, she would be amazed by what he planned to do once they were both back in King’s Landing.

Three days, he reminded himself. Then, gods willing, they would return to each other, having successfully won the allegiance of two of the most powerful houses in Westeros. An alliance that would surely dissuade his half-sister from pressing her dubious claim to the throne.

There would be no war, no death. Nothing to stop them from going to Runestone and starting their lives together.

He only had to wait three days.

Vhagar’s curmudgeonly roar stopped his mind’s wanderings.

Wake up, little Prince, it said. We are nearly there, and you must be ready.

Aemond had been so far into his daydream that he was well into picturing him and Arianwyn walking across the hills of the Vale with their flock of sheep and their small army of children.

He set those wonderful images aside, retaking Vhagar’s reins to guide her down toward the castle perched on the seaside cliff. Its singular tower reminded him of the descriptions he had once heard about Dragonstone, where the bricks used in its construction had been fused together with dragonfire, for even his keen eye could find no seams in the stone.

But Storm’s End was far older than the arrival of dragons on this continent. No, it had been constructed by men – or the Children of the Forest and a demi-god, if the legends were to be believed. The stones were so precisely cut that there were no seams, no vulnerable spaces for the winds that racked Shipbreaker Bay to find purchase.

Storms that Aemond had just noticed were conspicuously absent. Clouds covered the sky, yes. But no rain fell, and no thunder crashed through the sky.

Perhaps the gods were on his side.

When they finally left Wickenden – more than two hours later than she intended – Emrys was rested, well-fed, and eager to resume their journey. Lord and Lady Waxley had been so sweet and kind, and so excited that their humble castle was finally hosting a Targaryen that Arianwyn had not had the heart to interrupt the tour they insisted on giving her, along with a detailed history of their house. That part, at least, Arianwyn was mildly interested in.

She had only reached her limit when they began to escort her to the apiary itself, casually mentioning their more than five hundred beehives. Thanks to Helaena, Arianwyn had spent more time around insects, including bees, than most nobles. But the sheer number of bees that would surely be in those fields was too much even for her.

So, she hurried back to Emrys’ side and stuffed the ridiculous number of scented candles Lord Waxley had gifted her with into his saddlebags. She was sure at least half of them would be snapped or smashed by the time she reached the Eyrie, much less King’s Landing.

But she had grand plans for those that survived. A candlelit night with Aemond was precisely how she wanted to celebrate their return – and, hopefully, their successful courting of the Vale and the Stormlands.

That was what she needed to focus on right now. Her mission. Her duty to her family and her King. Her role as a Princess of the Realm.

Although, as the soaring peaks of the Mountains of the Moon loomed closer and the sun set lower behind them, she realized that her delay in Wickenden meant that making it to the Eyrie easily would be difficult – and arriving before sunset was impossible.

Aemond would be so upset. Though by the time he found out, she would be safely back in King’s Landing, he would nevertheless worry retrospectively and fuss over her relentlessly. She smiled at the thought. To all the world, he was such a fearsome warrior, yet he would fall nearly to pieces just from her arriving at her destination after dark.

The fearsome ‘One-Eyed Prince,’ indeed.

By the time they were well within the mountain range, snow-capped peaks extending beyond their view, it was truly dark. It was only thanks to the glow of the nearly-full moon off the snow that Emrys was able to navigate his way through the stony maze.

Though there were several close calls.

Arianwyn was reduced to prayer the further into the mountains they got. She would have to go to the Grand Sept itself to beg forgiveness for the string of curses that interrupted her beseeching of the Crone when Emrys suddenly swerved to avoid a peak he had not seen.

Eventually, there was a light other than the moon beckoning them. Seven other lights, actually. A fire had been lit atop each of the Eyrie’s spires, and every window in the castle was illuminated.

“Kirimvogon se Sīkuda. Se ao, Emrys. Īlon vēttan ziry,” Arianwyn muttered, as reverently as any of her prayers. “Ao vēttan ziry. Ao gōntan sīr sȳrī, Emrys.” Thank the Seven. And you.We made it. You made it. You did so well.

Though she could still hear the nervousness in his voice, Emrys trilled triumphantly as he rose above the castle’s white walls and lowered himself into its large garden.

Arianwyn leapt off the saddle, grateful to feel solid ground beneath her feet once more. Emrys immediately turned his head to nuzzle her, equally grateful that he had gotten her here safely. He made a soft sound, questioning whether she was alright after their harrowing flight.

“Iksan sȳz. Ao gōntan sīr sȳrī,” she assured him again as she stroked his snout. He was as much of a worrier as Aemond. Now that she thought about it, her husband and her dragon were, in fact, quite similar. I am fine. You did so well.

She looked around the expansive gardens, surprised at the wealth of greenery within. The Maesters must have toiled for years to get anything to grow atop the tallest mountain in Westeros.

While it was beautiful, but all Arianwyn could think of was its rich history.

Leaning into Emrys as she heard hurried footsteps approach from within the castle, Arianwyn whispered gently to calm him. “Vhagar māstan kesīr istin, ao gīmigon. Lēda Visenya, skori ziry jiōraton se Vāle.” Vhagar came here once, you know. With Visenya, when she won the Vale.

Emrys glanced around the large courtyard as if he would still be able to find a remnant of his new friend, and sniffed deeply to see if her scent lingered after more than a hundred years. But, of course, it did not. And his attention was soon drawn to the small party emerging into the gardens.

“Aria!” Ser Gerold called as he ran to her side and pulled her off the flagstones and into his warm embrace.

She squealed with undignified delight as she hugged him back, laughing with joy at finally seeing him again. He had made many entreaties to visit her at Dragonstone during her time there, all soundly rejected by her father.

But now, he stood before her, holding her at arm’s length as they inspected each other.

Gerold’s hair had gone entirely white in the last six years, and his hairline had receded even further. He was heavier, too, and wearing a different set of armor than he had when she saw him last. There were shadows under his eyes, so like the ones Alicent wore. But his gray eyes were bright and shone with tears of relief as he looked at Arianwyn and cradled her cheek in his large hand.

“Oh, Aria,” he sighed with a half-smile. “You are a woman now.”

She blinked tears from her eyes and laughed sheepishly as she smiled back at him. “And you are an old man, cousin.”

He laughed with her when she ruffled her hand through his hair. “Now we really look like family, don’t we?”

“Next time you come to King’s Landing, we can try and pass you off as a long-lost Targaryen Prince!” Arianwyn snorted, her eyes wide as her mind turned mischievous. “If Aegon is drunk enough, I know he will believe it!”

Another laughing voice joined them, soft and feminine despite its deep tone. “As much as watching this long-overdue reunion warms my heart,” it said, “I should like to be introduced to my godsdaughter, Gerold.”

Arianwyn peered over her cousin’s shoulder to look at Lady Jeyne Arryn – her godsmother.

Jeyne’s dark eyes were filled with nearly as much pride as Gerold’s, and her thin lips were curved in a hesitant, hopeful grin. She extended a long arm toward the girl, beckoning her forward. “Come, it had been nineteen long years. Let me look at you at last.”

With childlike enthusiasm, Arianwyn obeyed, taking Jeyne’s hand and even giving her a quick twirl as he godsmother looked over her. But her impatience grew as the Lady remained silent, thoroughly examining her – and her bronze armor.

For a moment, she was afraid of rejection, that she would somehow be found wanting. Indeed, Jeyne frowned when she ran a hand along her braided silver hair, but then she lifted her chin to look at her eyes, and beamed.

“You look so like your mother,” Jeyne whispered, her voice breaking.

Arianwyn stifled a sob. No one had ever told her that before. She had only ever heard how unlike her father she was. To know that she resembled Rhea, and not some distant ancestor she never knew, was cathartic.

She was a Royce, in more than just her eyes.

“Oh, but I have forgotten my manners,” Jeyne tutted, releasing the girl as she lowered herself into a curtsy. “You are more than just my godsdaughter, the child of my oldest friend, and the Lady of Runestone. You are now a Princess, if rumor is to be believed.”

“I have told her it must be true,” Gerold added as he came to stand by the girl’s side. “But our Lady has always been hesitant to believe gossip. And since you did not write to confirm any of the rumors…”

Jeyne rolled her eyes. “You would be wary as well, were you the subject of so many whispers over the years. And if the stories were as contrary as what we have heard.”

“It is true,” Arianwyn said, cutting off whatever witty reply Gerold had planned. He was so much less awkward now, here. She liked him like this. “Prince Aemond and I were married. I am so sorry I did not write, but it was… the last few days have been quite strange.”

“They must have been for you to be wed in a secret ceremony,” Gerold reasoned. “Unless that particular detail is untrue?”

He and Jeyne both took Arianwyn’s blushing and stuttering as confirmation.

“Well, I cannot wait to hear the real story,” Jeyne said, looping her arm through the girl’s to lead her out of the garden. “You would not believe what people are saying, my dear.”

Gerold followed close behind. “And I cannot wait to hear what delayed your arrival – you were expected hours ago. I was quite worried, Aria. I was almost ready to send a raven to Wickenden to ask after you.”

“Oh,” Arianwyn gasped, waving a quick goodbye to Emrys, who was already wrapping himself around a smoldering brazier to sleep. “I am so sorry! Lord and Lady Waxley kept me longer than I intended, and they were so sweet that I could not bring myself to stop them.”

She told them the story as they led her through the winding marble halls of the Eyrie, finally depositing her on a blue sofa before a roaring fire. A servant quickly brought her a hot meal, and she was introduced to Jessamyn Redfort, a dear friend of Jeyne’s, before Lady Arryn bombarded her with questions about her childhood and youth.

Arianwyn nearly choked on a piece of her roast chicken when Jeyne asked whether she had first kissed Aemond before or after she had flowered and if their relations had progressed further even than that before they were married.

She looked at her godsmother with wide eyes. “I… we never did anything like that until we were wed. And the bedding ceremony.”

Jeyne laughed so hard she nearly spilled her wine – her fourth cup of the night; she and Aegon would get along famously. “Gerold tells me the two of you were practically inseparable from the time you arrived in the capital, yet you mean to tell me you never even kissed before your wedding?”

“Well, we came close a few times,” Arianwyn said, thoroughly flustered as each memory of their relationship flooded back through her mind, “But I had never felt that way about him until I came back from Dragonstone. At least, I wasn’t aware of it if until then.”

Gerold sighed, “Aria, I can assure you that you were aware of it, though you were too young to know how to do anything about it. When you love someone, you cannot hide it, even from yourself.” He smirked, glancing to where Jeyne and Jessamyn shared a couch. “From what I saw, you have loved each other from the time you could walk, perhaps earlier.”

Jessamyn sighed dreamily, resting her head against Jeyne’s shoulder. “Your story is so lovely… how did those horrible rumors even start?”

The room fell silent, no one meeting her eyes. The hour Arianwyn had been here had been blissful, without a single mention of those rumors, or what happened the morning after her wedding.

They could not ignore it forever.

“It was my father, actually,” she explained. “Lies he concocted to try and have the marriage annulled. He could not stand to see me happy, or more than that, finally free from his control.”

Gerold grimaced. “Daemon Targaryen is a monster. It is simple as that.”

Arianwyn solemnly nodded her agreement, turning to Jeyne. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that. Or rather, something related to it. I don’t know how much the Hand told you in his letter, but…”

“Not tonight, Aria,” she snapped, her wine-flushed face turning stern for the first time that night. Arianwyn could, at last, see the great Maiden of the Vale in her godsmother, the woman who had soundly put down three rebellions against her rule. “I know why you are here, and I will happily listen to your petition – tomorrow. But, for tonight, I simply want to know you. To hear about all I have missed. Will you grant me that?”

Truthfully, Arianwyn was glad not to have to make the case for Aegon’s rule so late at night, when she was tired and already starting to feel quite fuzzy from her wine – Jessamyn had hunted down the sweetest vintage in the Eyrie’s stores to suit her fickle tastes.

She took another sip and looked back to her godsmother. “What would you like to know?”

Despite its impressive size, Storm’s End was still not large enough for Vhagar to land within its walls. But, by this point in her life, she was more than used to it. So, she contentedly settled beside the castle walls, where a great number of braziers and chained cattle were already laid out for her.

“Hāre tubissa, Vhagar,” Aemond murmured as he climbed down from her side. “Lēda biarves, kessa daor daomio, se kesā sagon arlī naejot se bāneves hen Dārys Tegorīr gō ao mirre ūndegon iā iōrves.” Three days, Vhagar. With luck, it will not rain, and you will be back to the warmth of King’s Landing before you ever catch a chill.

She only groaned in response, looking up at the clouds above them. Though no rain had fallen, the sky roiled with brewing storms.

Aemond sighed, a bemused grin on his face as he patted her worn scales. “Kesan ūndegon nūmāzma mirri ruaragon syt ao, sepār naejot sagon ȳgha.” I will see about some cover for you, just to be safe.

As he was escorted through the castle gates, he politely requested – he would never presume to give orders to another Lord’s servants, even if he wasn’t so determined to make a good impression – that some kind of shelter be arranged for Vhagar. He didn’t particularly care when the man started blustering about the labor and expense of such a thing. After being on dragonback for more than eight hours, his patience for other people was running dangerously thin, and he would need all of it when he finally met with Lord Borros Baratheon.

His mother and grandfather had warned him that Borros was perhaps the least refined Lord in all of Westeros. Their descriptions painted a picture of a man that, had he the choice, Aemond would have gladly avoided.

But they needed his allegiance. Aegon needed it, if he wanted to keep his throne.

So, Aemond would ensure he had it.

When the servant brought him before a set of dark wooden doors, he willed his face into one of his many masks, this one of pleasant indifference. He did not try to look friendly – he knew he couldn’t manage it, even if he wanted to. He had given that up long ago, even before his scar turned him into something truly terrifying to behold.

Indeed, when the doors opened, every man in the room looked at him with a healthy measure of fear as they stood and bowed their heads to the One-Eyed Prince.

It was not the throne room, where a Prince of the Realm should be received, but some sort of garish trophy room. Each wall was covered with horns and the stuffed heads of boars, deer, and even a few more exotic creatures. A few smaller animals were fully preserved, and posed in poor imitations of how they had been in life.

Aemond found the whole thing revolting. Especially the shadowcat pelt on the floor in the middle of the room, its head stuffed and frozen in an eternal howl. Even in death, such a creature deserved more than being trampled on by countless muddy boots.

Still, he kept his face impassive, not letting his offense at either the disrespect of greeting him here, or his personal disgust at Borros’ crude choice of décor show.

The Lord of the Stormlands was easy to identify, not only by the chain of office around his neck, but by the way every other man in the room looked at him expectantly. He was as Aemond expected – a thick-bodied old Lord with graying hair and a beard. What he hadn’t expected was the keen look in his eyes, though it faded quickly as he took another drink from his cup.

By the smell that pervaded the room, Borros and his entourage had been enjoying their ale for some time.

Ale – not wine. A drink more suited to the slums of Flea Bottom than the castle of a great Lord. It was nearly as vulgar as the décor.

Aemond crossed his hand behind his back and stared at Borros. He had tolerated the slight of his humble reception, but he still expected a formal greeting befitting both their stations. Though, even if he did not receive it, there was little he could do about it.

He would not fail Aegon.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen,” Borros began, his voice somewhat arrogant but respectful enough. “Welcome. You honor us with your presence.”

“The honor is mine, Lord Borros,” Aemond replied with a gracious bow of his head. “You have my gratitude for agreeing to host me with so little notice.”

Borros gave a tight smile. “How could I refuse? Our houses have long been allied, and you are the brother of our new King, after all.”

“Your loyalty to the crown is much appreciated,” Aemond said as he conceded a slight grin. This may not be as difficult as he was anticipating. “King Aegon sends his warm regards, as well as an offer – ”

“Oh, but where are my manners?” Borros interrupted, with an distinct lack of manners. “You have had a long journey, my Prince. Let us eat, and you can entertain us all with the tale of your brother’s coronation, since none of us were present – or even invited to attend.”

Aemond only nodded, for if he said anything, it would no doubt be rude and quash any chance he had of charming this brute of a man.

This would be just as difficult as he thought.

Very few of the men seated at Borros’ table were Lords themselves, or even highborn. Only half were even knights. It seemed all they had in common was their love of ale and the favor they held with their Lord.

Aemond had taken note of several who introduced themselves with the surname ‘Storm.’ They were too old to be Borros’ own bastards, though perhaps they could be his half-brothers or cousins. Whatever the relation, if there was any relation at all, their presence at the table was yet another poor omen for Aemond’s success.

He would not be able to argue that Rhaenyra’s bearing of her own bastards, and insistence on their legitimacy, posed a threat to the realm should she press her claim.

The first omen, other than the boorishness of Borros himself, had been the conspicuous absence of his wife and daughters. When Aemond inquired after them, under the pretense of paying his respects to the Lady of the Castle, he was told that they rarely eat with the men, especially before a hunt. Apparently, Borros and his men were ‘too rowdy for the women’ when they were together.

There could be no doubting the veracity of that statement.

More ale was brought to the table, along with a single bottle of wine for Aemond, which he did not drink. Though he had to admit to being tempted. If only to dull his mind and make the meal more bearable.

The food was not terrible, though there was a severe lack of vegetables in favor of nearly obscene amounts of meat. But the company was precisely what Aemond hated about court.

Boastful men telling tales of their exploits, brazenly embellishing their feats to a mythical degree. At least the stories were mostly about hunting and battle, not other, more vulgar conquests.

Whenever possible, Aemond tried to insert himself into the conversation so he could steer Borros to the actual reason he had come. But each time, Borros brushed him aside, calling instead on one of his men to tell yet another tale.

Aemond had resigned himself to silence when, at last, Borros turned to him.

“Tell me, my Prince,” he said, picking the last remaining scraps of meat off the bone he held. “Do you hunt?”

“I cannot say I am accomplished as you or your men here,” Aemond said cautiously, surprised that he was addressed directly. “But I have hunted, though not for some time.”

Borros looked somewhat conspiratorially at the man sitting to his left before turning back to the Prince. “And when you hunt, do you ride your horse or that dragon of yours?”

Aemond was surprised by the question, by its boldness and sheer ridiculousness. “Hunt with Vhagar? Certainly not.” He started, choking on his water as he realized how his words may offend his host. “I… she is far too large for most hunting grounds. And any prey she caught would either be swallowed whole or burnt. There would be nothing left to bring back. It would not be an effective method of hunting.”

“I see,” Borros muttered, refilling his mug of ale. “A shame. I was hoping you would join us tomorrow. I sense you are eager to get to whatever business your brother has sent you on. However, this hunt has been planned for months, and I will not postpone it simply because Aegon wants something of me.”

It took great effort on Aemond’s part to not scowl at what he was implying – that the Prince would be forced to wait until Borros deigned to meet with him.

But he could not wait that long. Rhaenys had no doubt told Rhaenyra of Aegon’s coronation, and by the time Aemond and Arianwyn left the Keep, two Kingsguard had gone ‘missing.’ Dragonstone, that hateful place, was no doubt already buzzing as Daemon prepared for war. Even a day’s delay in securing Storm’s End could have devastating consequences.

Besides, Aemond promised Aria that he would be back, and they would be reunited, before their three days were up.

So, he forced a polite smile and his voice to remain calm. “Then surely it would be wise for us to settle the business tonight, would it not?”

“Is there some pressing need for haste, my Prince?” Borros asked smugly.

“Regrettably, yes,” Aemond bit out. He clenched his hand under the table at the smug look on the faces surrounding him. It would be unwise to give his true reason for wanting the business done quickly.

‘One should never reveal more than is necessary,’ as it was written in the book of warfare he was still reading. The same book he had been reading when Arianwyn climbed atop him…

He gave a short laugh and what he hoped was a charming smile to the men that were watching him. They were so simple, so easy to read. And though he hated to discuss his dear wife in such a way, he knew precisely how to ply them.

“I am sure you have heard that I have been married,” he explained, knowing he would feel guilty the next time he saw Arianwyn. “It has not yet been a week since that happy night, and I confess I find myself impatient to return to my wife.”

“And her bed,” one of the men further down the table snickered.

Aemond drew his hand into a fist so fast that his nails dug into the skin of his palm, but he said nothing. Instead, he smirked, hoping it would be interpreted as a sign of amusement and not the dangerous rage he truly felt.

Borros rolled his eyes before facing the Prince again. “Normally, I would be happy to accommodate your request. I remember how reluctant I was to let Elenda out of my sight when we were first wed. And our own courtship was not half as…” he carefully assessed Aemond before finishing his sentence, “hasty as your own.”

“Where is your lovely wife now, Prince Aemond?” One of Borros’ men – one of the Storm bastards – asked.

A seemingly innocent question, but Aemond knew what he was really asking. Larys had said that Daemon’s accusations had made their way throughout the realm. How, he had no idea. But this confirmed it. As had the two score sets of eyes that immediately turned to him, waiting for his answer.

“The Princess Arianwyn left the Red Keep just before me this morning,” he said, noting exactly which men looked surprised by his words. “She and her dragon flew for the Eyrie. They should be there now, assuming they were not delayed in Wickenden.”

He could have sworn he saw two men exchanging coins under the table. The payment of a wager on whether the One-Eyed Prince had truly captured his bride – whether he was the monster he was rumored to be.

Aemond took in a heavy, calming breath before he continued. “It was my hope to return to King’s Landing before her, so I can welcome her home when she arrives. Neither she nor her dragon have been on so long a journey before; she is bound to be tired.”

Another chuckle went through the men, and several lewd comments Aemond pretended not to hear as he turned back to Borros. “I trust you can understand my haste, then?”

“I can,” Borros conceded. “But I still cannot postpone the hunt. So, you will join us, and we can discuss whatever business you have then.”

Though he would rather dine with the Stranger than spend time in the woods with these men, Aemond agreed. And hastily excused himself from the meal. If he was to endure the next day without killing or maiming one of the men, particularly the bastard who had made the crudest comments about Arianwyn, he would need his rest.

And no small amount of prayer.

After an hour of beseeching each of the Seven for the strength he would need to survive the hunt, he, at last, settled into his bed. His hand reached for the scrap of periwinkle cloth he had held close to him for so many years, but it was not there.

He had given it to Arianwyn the day after their wedding.

“I have the sapphire,” he had said, tapping the gemstone with his finger. “It is only fair you have a reminder of our love too. Particularly since I have not had the chance to get you a ring…”

She had been so delighted that even now, as he longed for some reminder of her, Aemond could not bring himself to regret it. So instead, he stood from the bed and retrieved his dagger – secure in its sheath – before sliding back between the sheets.

Aemond fell asleep brushing his thumb over the marks she had left on its hilt.

Arianwyn yawned – again – in the middle of telling Jeyne the very last details she could recall of her first flight as a dragonrider. “After that, King Viserys threw a small feast in my honor. He also had an auroch sent to the Dragonpit as a treat for Emrys. And…”

She was interrupted by yet another yawn, which was soon echoed by Gerold.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, rubbing at her eyes to try and clear their blurriness. “I must have had a little too much wine. I’m afraid I’m quite tired.”

“Nonsense!” Jessamyn said gently. “It is we who have kept you up too late with our thirst for stories. You have had a long day. Of course you are tired.”

Jeyne signaled to a servant, “Perhaps some tea to wake the Princess?”

Gerold groaned and slid his face into his hand. While he loved listening to Arianwyn, he had already fallen asleep in his chair twice, and had been promptly scolded when his snoring interrupted her stories.

“I think,” Jessamyn insisted, grabbing Jeyne’s wrist and lowering it back down, “that we should let her sleep and recover from her journey. We will have more time to talk tomorrow.”

When Jeyne turned back to her godsdaughter to send her to bed, the girl’s eyes were already closed, and she swayed slightly, even as she continued to hold her wine goblet aloft. Gerold, too, had fallen back asleep.

“I am afraid you are right, my dear,” Jeyne whispered to her companion, pressing a brief kiss to her firey red hair. “Forgive me. I’ve wanted to meet her for years, and I let myself get carried away.”

Jessamyn caressed Jeyne’s cheek and smiled sweetly. “It is perfectly understandable, my love. Though, tomorrow you may want to rein your enthusiasm in – just slightly. I am fairly sure she made up many of the details you asked for. Though I cannot blame her. I can’t remember what I wore on my sixth nameday either!”

“Yes, most of that wasn’t actually that important, was it?” Jeyne asked with a wince. “I just want to know everything I missed. Everything Rhea missed…”

They were interrupted when Arianwyn’s hand went slack, and her goblet fell to the floor with a loud clatter. She and Gerold were both startled awake, the old knight stumbling out of his chair and reaching for his sword.

“What happened?” he asked, glancing around blearily.

“Nothing,” Jeyne assured her friend, then looked back at Arianwyn. “Nothing but an old woman being foolish. I’m sorry dear, of course, you should rest.”

The Princess was too tired to do anything but nod gratefully as Gerold offered his arm to lead her to her chambers. But Jeyne and her close companion did not mind. They only smiled fondly as she left the room.

Arianwyn had nearly fallen asleep on her cousin’s shoulder when he opened the chamber doors for her, and she stumbled into the room.

“Servants retrieved your things from Emrys earlier. I am told he did not wake once. Do you need a maid to help you?” Gerold asked. “I can find one to wake and send to you, if you wish.”

“I’ll be fine, but thank you,” she said. Then, mustering the last of her strength, she lifted herself onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I missed you very much.”

He gazed warmly at her, cupping her chin in his hands to kiss her hairline. “I missed you, too, Aria. Sleep well, and I will see you tomorrow. There is something I would like to give you before you leave. A wedding present, of sorts.”

Her smile fell at his words, but then she laughed bashfully as her cheeks flushed. “I… I forgot that I would be sleeping alone tonight. I have so quickly become accustomed to having Aemond next to me.”

“Oh, Aria,” Gerold pulled her into a tight embrace. He laughed with her as he stroked her hair, tears once more coming to his grey eyes. “I am so blissfully happy for you.”

“I am blissfully happy, as well, and nearly as tired,” she giggled, pulling away from the embrace.

Gerold patted her cheek once more. “Then I will leave to your rest, my dear.” He took a deep breath, and Arianwyn thought he might cry again. “I love you, Aria. And I am so proud of you. Your mother would be, too.”

She brought a hand over her mouth as she held back a sob. Every bone in her body cried out to hug him again, but she knew that if she did, she would cry through the night and not get any rest. She lowered her hand as she nodded furiously and whispered her thanks as Gerold left and shut the door behind him.

Thankfully, her tears had calmed by the time she removed her dress – Jeyne had been only just convinced to let her remove her armor before her meal. She was too tired to cry and too tired to don a nightgown. She slid into the bed, wearing only her chemise to cover her, and holding a small scrap of periwinkle silk in her hand.

Aemond had given it to her after he noticed it on the floor the day after they were wed, to be a placeholder of sorts until he found her a wedding ring. But she had already decided not to give it back to him, even after she had her ring.

It smelled of Aemond. His scent of parchment and steel thoroughly steeped into the fabric after he kept it for so long in either his breast pocket or under his pillow. And somehow, it seemed to retain some of his warmth, as well.

Arianwyn fell asleep cradling that small scrap of silk to her cheek.

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