#label: viii

[laurapetrie]

"Why didn't Anne tell me about patriarchy? Which, to my understanding, is where men and horses run everything?”

[offwithhxrhead]

the young girl looks down as she continues , trying to comprehend what's being told to her . her mother is mentally ill ? does that mean she herself is , too ? she shakes her head , looking back into alice's eyes . " okay , you mentioned wonderland was burned , too , with the fire . what does that mean ? why were you forced to fight like this ? "

question after question races through madeline's mind , and her mouth is unable to keep up . as of now , she's a stammering mess ( something she gets from her father ) and she's not sure she wants to continue this conversation . what else is she going to say , that the queen of hearts is a villain ? that she had to kill some of the friends maddie knows and cherishes today ? if so , how did they come back ?

she takes a few deep breaths as an attempt to calm herself so she can continue to listen . she mumbles a quick apology , eyes locked on her twisting hands . whatever comes next , she knows she must endure in order to fully understand how to protect herself .

"Sorry, I thought it would be clearer from context -- 'catatonic' means being so traumatized and disturbed you can't even move," Alice explained. "At least, that's what it meant in my case. I just -- couldn't bring myself to deal with the world after the deaths of my family, so I laid like a lump in my bed instead. Utterly refused to engage with anyone. That's how I ended up in Rutledge -- Littlemore simply couldn't figure out how to get me out of that state, so they sent me to people who -- supposedly -- did."

"You would think so," Alice mutters, then swallows at Madeline's question about what she's been keeping secret. Oh dear, she can already feel this conversation taking a bad turn... "Unfortunately, not all hospitals are run by good, nice people. And you're right -- psychiatric as in mental illness. Because -- I wasn't exactly mentally well after the fire. The trauma sparked something off in me, and..." She sighs heavily. "I went from an imaginative, occasionally distracted child, to one that openly hallucinated, screaming at invisible terrors and -- later on -- occasionally even hurling teapots at people. Not exactly a shining example of the perfect citizen."

[asoftepiloguemylove]

Joan Tierney Why Are You Haunted? / @/oceaii (tumblr) / Liv Ullmann Changing / The Elektra Complex / Rosario Castellanos Monologue of a Foreign Woman from "Meditation on the Threshold: A Bilingual Anthology of Poetry / unknown / @/violentcherries (tumblr) / @/nutnoce (tumblr) / Jean-Paul Sartre Nausea / unknown

i. Joan Tierney Why Are You Haunted? [ "This haunting is architectural. It is not about you. It is about where you are. There are bones in the foundation. This house is a graveyard. This house is a corpse. You are inside the corpse. That makes you the maggot." ]

ii. @/oceaii (tumblr) [ Black and white illustration of a deer. The deer looks forwards in the first panel and turns back to face the audience in the second panel. "Turn and face / the person you've become." ]

iii. Liv Ullmann Changing [ "I will never forget the loneliness I knew as a child. For a period in my life I hid behind a mask. Did not want to acknowledge any longing. / Now it is a part of me-something I can share. / Both the loneliness and the longing." ]

iv. The Elektra Complex [ "If you were to peel the skin of me apart as a fig's, you would finally understand. I am my mother's daughter. From poisoned seeds sprout poisoned fruits." ]

v. Rosario Castellanos Monologue of a Foreign Woman [ "I didn't want / to be the dead star / that uses borrowed light to survive." ]

vi. unknown [ Black and white illustration of two deer. They are both labeled with words. The deer in the background says "just be." The deer in the foreground replies "just being is the hardest part." ]

vii. @/violentcherries (tumblr) [ "the environment you are not thriving in is not yours forever / IT'S OKAY TO LEAVE / ... / IT'S OKAY to abandon the things you used to love" ]

viii. @/nutnoce (tumblr) [ Black and white illustration of a scorpion doing chores. It's tail just barely curls over the front of a clothes line. Various pairs of socks hang from the clothes line. It stands before a bucket with more clothes inside. "I come from the toughest, meanest place you can imagine. / I want to be gentle, I want to die gently, but / It seems that when life gets hard / I have to get harder to match." ]

ix. Jean-Paul Sartre Nausea [ "I am going to outlive myself. Eat, sleep, sleep, eat. Exist slowly, softly, like these trees, like a puddle of water, like the red bench in the streetcar." ]

x. unknown [ "1. Man is a MORAL animal. / 2. You can get human beings to do anything - IF you can convince them it is moral. / 3. You can convince human beings that anything is moral." ]

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter VIII: Rumours 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Three months after your show in Oldtown, things seem different. How will you and Aemond navigate this new normality?

Warnings: 18+, self-destructive thoughts, mentions of rehab, therapy and anger management, allusions to smut

Word count: 4500

A/N: What a journey! Thank you so much to everyone that has followed this story, both for the first and second time.

Three months later. 

The tour went on for over two months, finishing with a sold-out show back home in King’s Landing. Thanks to management bringing in some highly skilled people to work on finalising the songs on Rumours, the event doubled as the release day of your second album. 

You sold twice as many records in the first three days as your first album did since its release last year.

Though you’re certain that some of the attention your album’s received is due to the dramatic end of your marriage to Aemond, you’re convinced that fans wouldn’t be buying it if they didn’t enjoy the music. The reviews from major music outlets were raving about the emotional depth throughout the album, another indicator that gossip wasn’t the only selling point of your heartbreaking labour. 

Now, with the holidays closing in, your label has asked you to create some type of extra material to put on a limited edition version of Rumours. 

The members of Dragon Dreamers agreed that adding a bonus track would be the best feature, and decided to meet in the studio to record it in one go; a straight-forward and quick procedure fitting your time restraint. 

You’ve been playing around with a few ideas for new songs, but nothing substantial that feels ready just yet. Lucky for you, Helaena posted in your group chat that she’s been working on a song you could use. 

You’d listened to the demo she shared and the song truly has great potential, being somewhat fast-paced with Helaenas dreamy vocals adding that mellow feel to it only she seems capable of. 

Reaching the studio, you step out of the taxi and thank the driver over your shoulder, pulling the thick, wool fabric of your coat tighter around your trembling body. 

It’s only the last week of November, but winter seems to have come early this year. You hurry to get into the building where the studio is, shaking fingers fidgeting with the key in your cold, inflexible hand, too stiff to obey you and get the thin piece of brass into the keyhole. 

“Allow me”, echoes a voice behind you, and the corners of your lips pull up at the familiar, gentle tone. 

“It’s fucking freezing”, you say light-heartedly and move away from the lock to make space for Aemond, who steps forward, key already in hand.

He unlocks the door swiftly, giving you a pointed look while pushing the heavy door open with one hand. It’s his idea of banter; meeting your eyes with that cheeky glint dancing in his eyes, amusement hiding in his lips where the faintest promise of a smile forms. 

“Thank you” 

You walk past him into the hallway leading to the studio and he follows behind you, mumbling a quiet, 

“Anytime”

After the show in Oldtown, your and Aemond’s relationship has improved immensely. Agreeing that whatever happens, the band comes first, proves to be a good way for the both of you to stay on track. 

Being on the road and performing several times a week is draining, stressful, and overall rough. But in the strain, it’s provided you with some peace of mind, forced to put all your focus on work instead of dwelling on the past.

On everything that’s happened between the two of you.

Besides, Aemond’s put in effort to be civil as well, even bordering on being friendly at times, asking you if you’d like anything from the coffee shop before he went to grab an espresso. A clear sign of trying that you appreciate, no matter how small. 

Besides, it’s not like he even needs to ask. He knows perfectly well what you like. 

But this feels better; feigning ignorance. 

Not still acting like a married couple. 

Perhaps his change was not entirely due to what occurred in Oldtown. Helaena had let it slip one day over lunch that he’d started seeing a therapist, while also attending an anger management program online. 

You’re happy for him, truly. 

It shows on his demeanour that he’s doing better; that he knows how to handle situations better. He seems more in tune with his inner self as well, more in control of it. You’re glad to see him improving, and yet there’s a small part of you that still mourns the broken bond between the two of you. 

That part feels resentful, annoyed with the fact that he couldn’t have done this before your divorce. 

Then you might still be together. 

Helaena’s singing voice grows louder as you move closer to the door of the studio, pushing it open with your stiff, cold hands. 

Jace and Erryk are already seated, listening intently to Helaena’s instructions as she explains how they’re going to record the song. You and Aemond slip in, eyes trained on her, and she offers you a nod in greeting, continuing to discuss her vision of the song,

“The build up has to be captivating! It speeds up towards the outro at the end, which is like the highlight of the song”, she says, hands coming up to put emphasis on her words, 

“That’s what you’d envisioned, right Aemond?”

Her head turns to meet the gaze of her younger brother, waiting for a sign of agreement. He only hums in reply and nods at her, prompting her to continue. 

Has Aemond written this song?

You think back to the demo Helaena sent of her singing and playing piano. 

Isn’t this a love song?

“Finally wrote a song for your girlfriend then?”, Erryk teases as he lowers himself to take a seat behind the drum set. 

A wave of nausea crashes over you without warning. You feel your heart race in your chest, like it’s fighting to get out, and a sickening panic spreads within you. Your hands, that’d just felt so cold and stiff, now feel clammy and tingling with unease. 

You knew this day would come. 

The day Aemond writes a song for Alys. 

You’d mentally prepared for it; convinced yourself that whenever this day came, you’d be okay. It wouldn’t hurt that much, you already know that he’s moved on. 

But Erryk’s question leaves you disoriented, almost dizzy, and you hear the furious beat of your heart in your ears.

Now you have to live with your decision to leave him all those months ago. Allow him to move on and watch him from the sidelines as his colleague. 

Sing along to the declaration of love he’s written for his new lover? 

“Hel and I have been working on this song since last spring”, he dismissively replies, throwing Erryk a look that feels cold, yet his tone stays neutral. 

Since last spring? 

You still feel the heavy weight of anxiety on your chest, but with a few deep breaths, you manage to pull yourself together. 

Just get through this afternoon, then you can go home and dwell in self-pity without spectators. 

The band starts to play, Helaena singing as her fingers dance over the keys of the piano, 

‘Sweet, wonderful you’

‘You make me happy with the things you do’

‘Oh, can it be so?’

‘This feeling follows me wherever I go’

Aside from the demo Helaena sent you a few days ago, you’ve never heard this song before. If Aemond’s been working on it since last spring, does that mean he’s kept it a secret from you?

Maybe he played a rough edit to you before your separation? 

Maybe he and Helaena had reworked it beyond recognition? 

‘I never did believe in miracles’

‘But I’ve a feeling it’s time to try’

‘I never did believe in the ways of magic’

‘But I’m beginning to wonder why’

He’s not usually the type to write love songs. His solo song on your first album, titled ‘I’m so Afraid’, can be described as anything but romantic. 

‘Don’t break the spell’

‘It would be different and you know it will’

But this? Is it the love he receives from Alys that has prompted him to write such an exposing song; causing him to believe in miracles and magic? 

Does she make him feel safe? 

Safer than before? 

‘You make loving fun’

‘And I don’t have to tell you but you’re the only one’

You try to keep your voice stable as you sing along, backing up Helaena’s delicate tone. 

It hurts, hearing how much he doesn’t miss you; how happy he is with her. 

The one that makes loving fun. 

When you were married, all you seemed capable of was making him miserable. 

Loving you wasn’t fun. 

‘You make loving fun’

‘It’s all I wanna do’

‘You make loving fun’

‘It’s all I wanna do’

Some hours go by.

You record a few different versions of the song; playing around with various sounds. 

Every time you sing the words, they stab your heart like a knife, 

‘You make loving fun’

You try to act normal. You try so hard that you can taste copper on your tongue. Thankfully, no one seems to see through your facade. 

Just breathe. 

In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds. 

You know that it won’t hurt this much forever. 

One day, you’ll wake up and your lungs won’t ache when you inhale deeply. Your eyes won’t burn from the force in which you're trying to prevent tears from falling. 

Time heals all wounds. 

But yours are still fresh. Leaking and aching. 

All you want to do is go home, throw yourself in bed and cry. 

You crave release, whether it comes from sorrow-induced dehydration, calling Alysanne just to yell out your frustrations, or screaming into a pillow.

When Helaena finally wraps up the recording session, asking you to come back tomorrow after she’s listened through a few of the takes, you hastily grab your bag and move towards the door. 

Just need to get out. 

Away. 

You call out a rushed farewell over your shoulder as you make your way down the corridor of the building, hand coming up to the door handle to step out into the cold November night. 

You brace yourself, ready for the chill air to hit your cheeks as you pull the door open. But before you’re able to leave, a large hand gently grabs your shoulder, keeping you in place, 

“Wait”

Aemond’s voice is low behind you. 

You inhale a deep, shaky breath before you turn around to face him. 

“Yes, Aemond?”

Your voice is purposefully flat, and you’re doing your absolute best to not let the hurt you feel reflect on your tone. 

“I wanted to talk to you”, he begins, tongue coming out to lick his lips. He’s apprehensive in a way that makes his voice sound foreign, like he’s not himself. 

“Did you like it? The song?”

Your gaze flickers down at his question, a reflex-like response so you don’t roll your eyes at him. He sure makes it difficult to be the bigger person. 

Set on tormenting you. 

“Yes”

You bite out the reply, laced with innate irritation you can’t conceal. 

Yes, it’s a good song, you can’t deny that. But seeking you out to have you admit that the song he wrote for his new partner is good Is a new low. 

And to think you thought he’d finally changed for the better. 

Aemond’s good eye roams your face, seemingly searching for something. An answer hidden in your features. 

He licks his lips again, as if he’s looking for what to say, 

“You do, you know”

His eye still flickering around without meeting yours, and his restless demeanour makes you nervous too. 

“I do what?”, you ask, irritation now clear in your curt tone. 

“Make loving fun”, he answers. 

The shock of his sudden confession renders you speechless, and Aemond takes the opportunity to pull you out of the building and into the dark night. 

The heavy door to the studio closes with a loud thud, and left are you and Aemond, alone in the freezing, dark November night. 

“I wanted to surprise you with the song on our wedding anniversary in June, but obviously..”, his voice dies out. 

Still lost for words, you’re sure you look ridiculous, mouth agape and eyes wide. 

Aemond carefully takes in your reaction and takes a deep breath himself, 

“I’ve thought about our relationship recently. A lot”, he says, eyes flickering down to your trembling hands.

Are they shaking from the cold? 

He takes your hands in his warm grip, encapsulating their entirety, 

“I didn’t treat you right-”

“I, I just-, I loved you so fucking much, I-, I didn’t know how to handle loving you so fiercely. I still do”

He has that sad look in his eye that you’ve grown familiar with; the sorrow that he’s made a habit of keeping from you. 

Now, it’s on full display as he offers you himself again, 

“Please take me back”, he quietly begs, body moving forward, face coming down so he can rest his cheek on your head, hands still holding yours tightly. 

You feel lost for words, stiffly staying in place as you hear Aemond inhale deeply through his nose buried in your hair. 

“Aemond”, you sigh, tone thick and unsteady, 

“I thought we’d agreed to move forward as bandmates”

“I’ve missed you so much”, he mumbles in reply, unmoving as he rests his head on yours. 

“You’re with Alys now”, you breathe out, disbelief making it hard for you to sort out your thoughts.

“I haven’t seen her since Winterfell”, he replies.

“Aem-”, you try to oppose but he cuts you off,

“I’m sorry for ruining everything. I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you. I’m sorry for being selfish”, he confesses quietly, whispering his sins into your hair. 

Aemond moves to let go of your hands, and instead brings his arms around your shoulders to hug you. 

His voice is still low, mouth right next to your ear, 

“I took your love for granted. I couldn’t imagine a world where we weren’t together”, he admits and presses your body against his, 

“And now I regret how I treated you every day. I know my actions are inexcusable, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need-”, his voice breaks, 

“I need you”

Being in his embrace, so full of the love you’ve been missing for months, causes your lids to feel heavy, and you close your eyes and rest your cheek against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. 

He still smells the same. 

The most comforting, warming scent in the world. 

It would be so easy to take him back.

It is so tempting. 

You gently pull away to look up at him, eyes locking with his, 

“Aemond, you know you weren’t happy being with me” 

“I’m going to therapy, I’m trying to be better”, he says quietly. His eyes are glassy when he adds, 

“For you”

You swallow the lump lodged in your throat. 

“That’s great, Aemond, and I’m so proud of you”, 

“But I don’t think getting back together would be good for either of us”, you conclude, gaze carefully gauging his expression, anxiously awaiting his reaction. 

The inevitable fire. 

His eyes narrow, face setting in harsh displeasure. 

You notice the corners of his mouth twitch downwards as he stares at you in silence, nostrils flaring with each breath. 

His warmth disappears as he steps away from you. 

He quickly shifts to the side to avoid your eyes, and leaves without another word.

You do all three things when you get home. 

You cry, you scream into a pillow, and you call Alysanne to yell out your frustrations. 

Nothing helps.

Why did he have to do this now? 

Why couldn’t he have done this when you were still together? 

The wound of your marriage opens up again, sending icy waves of pain through your body. 

This was supposed to be the part when things got better; when time had healed the wounds.

And yet, you’re still hurting just as much. 

A gash that refuses to stop bleeding. 

In the depths of your despair, you see your phone light up with a notification through the veil of tears obstructing your vision. 

You bring one of your hands up to half-heartedly wipe away the tears that spill out as the other grabs the phone to see who’s texted. 

Aemond: “I’m sorry for earlier tonight. If you want to remain friends, I would appreciate that”

For the second time tonight, his unpredictability astonishes you. 

Where’s the anger? 

You’re unmoving, hand holding your phone in a cramp-like grip as it lights up again. 

Aemond: “It’ll be entirely on your conditions”

You inhale, closing your eyes as you ponder your reply. 

Exhaling slowly, you open your eyes again to type out your answer.

You: “Okay”

Like most things, though it seemed absurd in the beginning, being friends with Aemond has become a normality. 

It started slowly, not going further than the two of you chatting during band practice. 

Then, you started going out to grab coffee together, airly discussing the band, upcoming shows, and what music you’d been listening to recently. 

As weeks pass by, your newfound familiarity blooms into a friendship. 

You start taking more liberties around each other, without constantly being on edge. 

Things like Aemond asks you if you’d like to go see a film by an up-and-coming director, you asking him if he’d like to grab food on the way home from the studio together. 

Your marriage, as tumultuous and heartbreaking as it had been, seems a distant memory now. The ashes from what once was have provided soil for the two of you to build a new, healthy friendship on. You feel thankful for that.

Thankful to still have Aemond in your life.

Being friends suits him. 

He’s opened up far more in these past few weeks to you than he had during the entirety of your futile relationship. 

He acredits it to the therapy and anger management he’d done, but you sense a real shift within him. 

He tells you about Alys; how he met her and how they developed a kind of friends with benefits dynamic as he longed for intimacy and she became his manager. 

Though you can vividly remember him calling her his ‘girlfriend’, he apparently hadn’t made that clear with her, and when he asked her to come on tour with him, a childish attempt at making you jealous, you presume, she’d patted him on the cheek and explained that though he’d been a fun fuck, she didn’t have time for a partner. 

He says that in retrospect, her not having any romantic feelings for him must’ve been a blessing, since he was only using her for selfish fulfilment himself. 

He tells you about Aegon; how they hadn’t spoken all summer, until Aemond reached out to properly apologise, a crucial part of the anger management program. 

Aegon, inspired by Aemond’s dedication to sort out his inner demons, had decided on a fourth trip to rehab. By now, he’s stayed sober for longer than ever before.

Aemond says that he’s made a habit of bringing his brother out hiking, trekking the vast landscape of the Reach. 

Sometimes during those long walks, they’d talk over each other, engaging in passionate discussion about everything and anything. Other times, they walk in comfortable silence, simply existing together. 

It’s nice seeing your ex husband so content. 

The bitterness you first felt at his dilatory introspection has been replaced by admiration; impressed by his dedication to be better. 

Somewhere inside, the wound of the past bleeds less and less. 

Perhaps this is how you were always meant to be? 

Friends. 

The realisation is bitter, but you’ve grown used to the taste on your tongue. 

You made the right decision. 

It’s almost midwinter when Aemond asks you to come over to your old flat one Sunday morning. 

Apparently he’s in the process of subletting the place, and needs help removing any personal belongings. 

It’s strange being back, already foreign and distant, yet still so familiar. 

“I’ve put some of your stuff in the guest bedroom”

Aemond gestures for you to follow him as you step inside. 

Like you don’t know where it is.

You follow him, watching as he opens the wardrobe, stepping to the side to invite you in. 

True to his perfectionist nature, your things are neatly organised, hanging in tidy rows. 

Some of your clothes, two coats, a vase you’d gotten from Alicent on your birthday, a jewellery box. Mostly gifts you received from Aemond, too painful for you to bring with you when you left all those months ago.

Maybe now you’re finally ready to look at the relics of your broken marriage with fondness, reminiscent of the love you once shared. 

As you inspect the wardrobe, you notice an old box tucked in one corner, edges worn down and structure almost caving in. 

You pick it up and open the lid, surprised to find the picture collage you’d made for him on your six month anniversary inside, along with a few other memorabilia from your relationship.

Two tickets to the cinema, a pub receipt, an ugly doodle of Aemond you drew as a joke. 

“What’s this?”, you ask as your hands rummage through the content of the box.

Aemond looks up from the moving box he’d been hunched in front of, eyes going wide when he sees what’s in your hand. 

“You can just put that back”, he quickly replies, face growing a bit pink. 

“I can just move this to the trash as well”, you say and shift towards the big, black bin bag in the corner. 

“That’s alright. I-, I want to keep it”, he mumbles quietly and stands up, towering over you as he takes the box from your hands. 

Your eyes dart from the frame with the pictures you’d made for him to his face, not quite sure why he wants to keep such trivial things. 

“I want to keep the memories” 

He puts the lid back on the box, bends down to place it on the floor, and pushes it towards the back of the closet using his foot. 

There’s something in the air that causes the mood to shift. It’s like a thick fog has settled over the room, sticking in your lungs whenever you breathe. 

“The good old days”, you joke stiffly, trying to chase the uncomfortable tension away. 

Aemond’s standing with his back against you, facing the closet. He hums in reply at your attempted humour. 

“Everything was so easy back then”, you sigh, moving to grab one of the coats hanging next to where he stands. 

He’s stiff as he turns to you, watching as you carefully examine the coat, pondering whether you should keep it or not. 

“I-”, Aemond starts before he stops himself, appearing to be lost in thought,

“I’d try every day to make it easy for you. To love me, I mean” 

Your head snaps to the side. His confession hits you with such force, it’s almost physical, and now it’s your turn to be lost for words. 

“Oh, Aemond”, you choke out as you take in the sad frown his face is set in,

“It was never hard loving you. It was hard being loved by you”

“I know”

One of his hands moves carefully towards you. When you don’t back away from him, he takes the opportunity to place it on your cheek. 

You can feel the way his hand trembles against your skin despite how gentle his touch is.  

“I can’t promise that it’ll always be easy. But I still love you as much as I did back then. I know I shouldn’t but I need to-” he licks his lips as he’s searching for the right words, 

“I need to ask you again. Will you take me back?”

His stare is intense as he carefully evaluates your reaction. You still can’t find your voice, stuck in your throat in shock. 

“I know I don’t deserve it, but I don’t want anyone-, anything else. I’ll do anything for you. Please take me back”, he begs, voice cracking at the end of his plea. 

The hand he’s placed on your cheek feels like it’s burning an imprint onto your skin. 

You’ve never seen him like this before. 

So open; heart on display, laid out in the hand he’s now offering you.

It’s all yours. 

He hurt you so much during your time together. 

He made life so hard for you. 

He made you feel alive. 

Would it be worth it; possibly being hurt again?

Feeling alive again. 

You bring your hand up to his cheek, mirroring how he’s cradling your face. 

Alive. 

Aemond’s POV

When she tilts her head up, leans forward and pulls his face closer to hers, he almost lets out a relieved cry. 

Kissing her again feels like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. 

It’s so relieving it hurts. 

Even when he has to leave her lips to breathe, he presses his face against hers, desperate for the contact. 

He can’t be apart from her warmth for even a second longer. 

Her arms meet around his neck, keeping him close as her breath heats up the skin of his face. 

He’s robbed himself of this for months. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever forgive himself for that. for allowing her to slip away. 

He searches for her mouth again, kissing her as if she could breathe life into his lungs and revive his numb heart. 

His hands can’t decide if they want to touch every part of her being, or hold her so close they melt into one. 

She presses herself against him, kissing him back with just as much vigour. 

The thought that she’s missed him makes him want to weep. 

“I love you”, he says between pants as he moves his lips from hers, trailing down to kiss her neck. 

Her hands grab the back of his shirt and she lets out a moan when his lips find the patch right beneath her ear she loves so much. 

She pulls him downwards, onto the floor, and offers him a giggle as she straddles him. 

Her fingers come down to help him unbutton his trousers, just as eager for him as he is for her. 

He feels tears burn behind his eyelids again. 

Finally. 

He can hardly contain himself as his fingers clumsily search for the buttons of his jeans to aid her in getting them off. He is so impatient, so eager for her, that his hands shake from desire. 

His soul is finally soothed when she sinks down on him. 

He’s consumed by her. 

When she begins to move, the grip of her cunt around him indicates that this won’t last long. But that’s alright. It won’t be the last time. 

He surges forward to kiss her again, to let her know how grateful he is. 

That she came back to him. 

That she’s offered him her warmth once again. 

Fin.

A/N: Thank you for reading! ❤️

A very special thank you(!) to Justine @theoneeyedprince who've helped me by beta-ing this fic. You are truly a gem, so wonderfully supportive of me and I appreciate you so, so very much. Besides being an absolute legend of a friend, Justine's also an immensely talented writer. If you're eager to read more modern heartbreak, check out her story Careless Whisper - it's so good! ❤️

[grugruel]

Masterlist

Personal favs = ⭐️

Angst = 🎭

Fluff = 🎀

Smut = ❗️

I've labeled my fics, newest to oldest. Just to keep track of how my writing improves! I cringe when re-reading anything before 7😭

Arthur Morgan (RDR2)

Saint, or Sinner. ❗️🎀 XII

Big Iron | bounty hunter!Arthur Morgan x outlaw!f!reader❗️XIV

You've Kissed Me For Less ❗️XXII

Benedict Bridgerton (Bridgerton)

The Artist and the flower ❗️🎀 XX

Bucky Barnes (MCU)

An Affair to Remember | collegue!bucky❓️I

Bad News | dbf!bucky

- Part 1 | Baring Throats❗️🎭⭐️ VII

- Part 2 | Cold Thoughts❗️🎭 VIII

Let the Light in | priest!bucky❗️🎭🎀⭐️IIX

Little bit | roommate!bucky❗️🎭 XI

Movement | mob!bucky ❗️ XIII

Save A Horse | cowboy!bucky❗️🎀 X

The Girl Who Cried Cowboy | dbf!cowboy!bucky❗️🎭⭐️ XV

Your Daddy Know 'bout This? | dbf!cowboy!bucky❗️🎭 XXI

Wicked Game | cop!bucky❗️IX

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul (Fallout)

His little killer ❗️XVII

Say it again ❗️🎀 🎭 ⭐️ XVIII

Quiet on Set | pre-war!Cooper Howard ❗️ XIX

Father Paul Hill (Midnight Mass)

Lust for Vampyr ❗️ III

Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty)

In progress

Silco (Arcane)

The Game❓️ II

William Afton (FNAF)

Fun at Fazbear's❗️ IV

Horrific findings, sweet nothings❗️🎭⭐️ V

Princess❗️ VI

[taetr4ck]

LOVE IN SCRIBBLES — ten things seo changbin writes in his love letters for you

seo changbin x reader, no warnings — fluff, comfort. taglist form.

a/n : i almost forgot abt this series omg... i missed writing this it makes me insane

bang chan / minho / changbin / hyunjin / jisung / felix / seungmin / jeongin

i. I saw the sky today. It's beautiful. It actually reminded me of you — just like how you always bring peace when my heart is full of uncertainty. Is that your superpower, yeobo?

ii. Is it possible for a home to be a person rather than a place? 

iii. Everything is going to be okay, jagiya. You can’t blame yourself for something you can’t control.

iv. We will figure this out, okay? Just like we always have.

v. Together, we will create a home that is soft and warm, like basking in the grassland under the gentle glow of sunlight. We will always live for 5 am sunrises and 5 pm sunsets. I will keep you safe and I am always yours to keep. There will be no fear, hurt, and anxiety.

vi. I will never forget the day you held my hand for the first time. You could have left me, but you chose to take my hands and place them in your coat pocket. You gave me love that breathed life into my chilly fingers, rubbed them gently, and held them tight, promising to never let go.

vii. My favorite feeling in the world is seeing you first thing in the morning, with messy hair and groggy eyes — the way you hold my arm lazily and pull me into yours. The way your breath caresses against my skin, and the way our bodies bathe in the soft, golden hues of morning sunlight. I love everything you do. My favorite feeling is you.

viii. Loving you is as easy as breathing.

ix. I love you. I love the messy hair and the bags under your eyes every time you can’t stop working. I love the little messes and chaos of you. I love your cheeky smile and your bubbly laugh that can brighten the room in an instant. I love the way you sigh when you're tired and the way you sing along to the radio on a Sunday morning. It's all lovable. It feels good to love you.

x. Maybe I was born just so I could meet you – and dedicate everything to you, perhaps.

taglist : @agi-ppangx @bluethemoments @ashracha @skzstarnet @straykidsland @k-labels

⋆ taetr4ck, est may 2023. / requests open

[aria-hannah]

Layers of Hell

For Deadboyween Day 10 - Hell, I decided to try and pick out some extra details from hell, from a combination of what we can see of Edwin's notes in the show, what we see on screen and cross-referencing information on Dante's Inferno which it is based on.

0. Vestibule Edwin's notes: Endless staircase

Limbo Edwin's notes: Do Not Ring

2. Lust No written notes from Edwin here just a floorplan, I wonder if the Xs are doors that go nowhere or doors that don't lead out of Lust

3. Gluttony Edwin's notes: written notes on the floorplan show the way to level II (Lust), the way "Back to Doll House NO." and the way to Avarice with text "Wrong Way. AVARICE. Everything too heavy."

3.a. The Doll House I'm including the Doll House inside Gluttony since that's the level it seems to be connected to based on the floorplan, though that seems to have been via tearing a hole through the wall so there should be another proper connection somewhere, based on that and Edwin saying that the babydoll spider would need to find another way through, and it did. It's also interesting to note that Charles sees a couple of misery wraiths hanging out around a door which matches the design of the door into Simon's punishment room, though this scene takes place after Simon has moved on so it is unlikely they were drawn to him specifically, possibly these rooms hold other punishments for other people as well? We only get a very quick glimpse of Edwin's notes on the doll house while Charles is looking at the ripped section of the Gluttony page but what we can see shows a partial maze with some areas crossed out, a question mark in one area and couple of places just labelled "No." There are also drawings of the gates that are found in the doll house, notably these match the design of the gates that seem to lead into the area the babydoll spider drags Edwin to, presumably it's lair. Edwin's notes: No. ___(Bolt?) the gate

3.b. Simon's punishment room I'm including this here because Edwin found his way into here from the Doll House. One of the most interesting things about this room in terms of hell itself is that it shows that: a. The blue light can come for souls in hell b. The endless' realms can connect here (I wonder if Desire looks in on the Lust and Avarice levels?)

4. Avarice Edwin's notes: Heavy labour, everyone in your way

5. Wrath No notes

6. Heresy No notes

7. Violence Edwin's notes: trapped, impaled, submerged in blood

8. Fraud Edwin's notes: snake pit, regain human form by biting other humans circle I. whipped circle II. covered in excrement circle III. flipped + feet set on fire circle IV. ___(swim?) in hot pitch circle V. head twisted backwards circle VI. weighted clothes circle VII. snake pit turn into snakes circle VIII. ____(wrapped/wreathed?) in big flame circle IX. wounded, disfigure circle X. leprosy, dropsy, ____(rashes?) Interestingly circles 4 and 5 are switched in Edwin's notes as compared to the info I could find on Dante's Inferno, so in Dante's Inferno circle 4 has all their heads twisted backwards and circle 5 has them thrown in boiling hot pitch/tar.

9. Treachery Edwin's notes: frozen + stuck + chewed on

Overall thoughts: Given the lack of notes on Wrath and Heresy, it's likely that Edwin either spent little to no time in these circles or he wrote about it in detail in another page of his notebook (as he did with the doll house). On the other hand given the notes covering all 10 circles of Fraud, he spent enough time there to have seen all 10 of them and has paid particular attention to circle 7 both in his drawings and his side notes. He also has some notes on both Treachery and Violence, which makes me think that he spent some time in Fraud and while trying to escape from there saw the circles either side, just like he has notes on Avarice from trying to escape from Gluttony in that direction.

[domaystic]

It's Domaystic 2024!

Hello, hello! This is the third year of DOMAYSTIC, a domestic trope based prompt event running in May :D

This is the main post for the event and in the picture above there are the prompts.

They're 31 prompts (no alts this time), but they are also divided in three main categories, which I loosely labelled as "people from everyday life" from 1 to 10; "things from everyday life" from A to J; and "general-container-stuff that can be bent to one's own desires" from roman number I to X. Plus, at the very end, a free choice option (we never had one and the days are not even ahahah).

List of prompts

Category: people from everyday life 01. driver 02. shop assistant 03. plumber 04. public servant 05. teacher 06. receptionist 07. mechanic 08. health professional 09. baker 10. landlord

Category: things from everyday life A. konmari B. me/us time C. shopping points D. odd appliances E. building renovations F. frozen G. memento H. wild animal I. ritual J. dreadful weather

Category: general-container-stuff I. proverb II. tutorial III. poll IV. numbers V. emergency VI. quiz VII. cliché VIII. art IX. official document X. song

* free choice

Guidelines, tags example, AO3 link under the cut!

General rules and guidelines

Domaystic is open to any fandom or original content.

Any kind of media is welcome. You choose your way of expression.

There are no limits/restrictions on how your fill should be.

There’s a total of 31 prompts for 31 days.

To join the event one can do a prompt a day following the list as it is; or following the sequence they prefer; or only the ones of their liking, even just one.

Or, and this is my challenge proposition for anyone who wants to take it: try to combine one prompt from each one of the three categories + the free choice. Which in total would produce 10 fills + 1 if all are done.

Share your work anywhere you want or keep it to yourself, that's fine. If you share it on tumblr and tag this blog, I’ll reblog it.

If you also want to combine these prompts with another fandom event, that's okay.

Domaystic runs actively throughout May; if you join or tag the blog on a later date, that's fine too, I just reblog on a lower pace after May is over.

In case of lengthy posts on tumblr, use the "read more" option: ctrl-shift-k on rich text; [[*MORE*]] on html (remove asterisks)

AO3 collection

The domaystic2024 collection is open from May, 1st: click here - info and prompts are also on the profile page.

Tagging your tumblr post:

Mention the blog in your post @domaystic - tracked tag: #domaystic2024

State the fandom name or if it is original content

State if it is sfw or nsfw

Please, always TAG PROPERLY for any trigger warning. I will base my own reblog on your tags so, please, take even a moment longer to carefully tag it. I hope all participants to stay safe in this event.

Here’s an example:

It took me 2 nights to write this @domaystic, look at my stuff! #domaystic2024 #[fandom name or original content] #[sfw or nsfw] #[trigger warnings that I get from your post] tw

And this is it! For any question, doubt, etc. the askbox is always open :)

Hi @thebigbangblogproject, can you reblog this? Thanks :D

[shaylogic]

Transcription of the "Layers of Hell" from Edwin's notebook:

Title: Layers of Hell

Illustration of descending levels, to be described with each level transcribed.

Right side of page divides "Upper Hell" and "Lower Hell" (both roughly 4-5 floors)

Left side of page labeling the levels:

Vestibule: Endless(?) Staircase [illustration: spiralling stairs as the top level]

I. Limbo [stick figures stuck in hotel lobby]

II. Lust [stick figures writhing together in a butchershop, hooks and blood dripping down walls shown]

III. Gluttony [stick figures binging and purging food]

IV. Avarice [stick figures seemingly pushing boulders back and forth] Notes to the right: "heavy [workers/laborers(?)], everyone in your way"

V. Wrath [stick figures swept up in what look like currents] Personal note of transcriber: I looked up notes on Dante's version to get a better idea of this, and I quote "Note how the two groups suffer different punishments appropriate to their type of anger--the wrathful ruthlessly attacking one another and the sullen stewing below the surface of the muddy swamp (Inf. 7.109-26)". Link to source.

VI. Heresy [stick figures that appear to be seated around office tables, or perhaps are laying on sacrificial tables? Possibly graves/tombs. I'm afraid this one seems unclear to me.] Personal note of transcriber: I looked up more notes from the same source website as before, and I quote "Dante opts for the most generic conception of heresy--the denial of the soul's immortality (Inf. 10.15)--perhaps in deference to spiritual and philosophical positions of specific characters he wishes to feature here, or perhaps for the opportunity to present an especially effective form of contrapasso: heretical souls eternally tormented in fiery tombs." Link to new source page.

VII. Violence (8-10 subsections are listed for this level, but they are small and illegible) [figures in a flood of blood or being impaled on the sides of the level illustration] Edwin's notes to the right: "trapped, impaled, submerged in blood"

VIII. Fraud [large level depicting giant snakes, dripping blood that reflects Lust's illustration, figures, and something else I can't make out (jutting outcroppings of stone, wings, hands? I am unsure.)] Edwin's notes to the right: "snake pit, gain human form by biting other humans"

IX. Treachery [figures submerged with only head above surface] Edwin's notes to the right: "frozen + stuck + chewed on"

At the very bottom of the page and levels of hell is an enormous creature that appears to be something like a dragon emerging from a dark pit.

[thelustybraavosimaid]

I know I talk about it a lot, but it's the heart and home stuff that really gives me pause in regards to how much Jon and Arya mean to one another. It's not just the comparisons between Ygritte and Arya, or Arya constantly being on Jon's mind and vice versa, or even the fact that George intended for the two of them to dream of each other, but that she's called a dark heart and he calls his own heart black.

"You are cruel to come to my hill, cruel. I gorged on grief at Summerhall, I need none of yours. Begone from here, dark heart. Begone!" (Arya VIII, ASoS)

--

There is no way I can help her. I put all kin aside when I said my words. If one of my men told me his sister was in peril, I would tell him that was no concern of his. Once a man had said the words his blood was black. Black as a bastard's heart.

...

"The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you."

"I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?

Melisandre seemed amused. "What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?"

"Arya." His voice was hoarse. "My half-sister, truly…" (Jon VI, ADwD)

But the dark heart has another significance as well—it's a connector to Rhaegar. Robert said Rhaegar had a black heart and yet the one who made him happy enough to label the tower the tower of joy was Lyanna, who is very much so Arya's precursor.

It's the connections. They are fascinating.

[duxbelisarius]

The Dragon has Three Heads or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Believe That Young Griff is the Real Deal

Before going any further, I want to warn anyone reading this analysis that it will contain spoilers for A Dance With Dragons, so proceed at your own risk.

This essay came about from an 'epiphany' I had while reading ADWD on break at work, specifically chapter Daenerys VII. In this chapter, Quentyn Martell and his companions present themselves to Daenerys and offer her a marriage alliance with Dorne. This being the day of her wedding to Hizdahr zo Loraq, Dany refuses and makes note mentally of Quaithe's earlier warning about not trusting "the Sun's Son." The identification seems simple enough, with House Martell's sigil featuring the sun and Quentyn being the son of Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne, but there are serious problems with this conclusion.

The issue with labeling Quentyn Martell the Sun's Son stems from how Dany reaches this conclusion; for starters, this is the original quote given by Quaithe in Daenerys II:

"No. Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal."

And this is how Dany identifies Quentyn as the Sun's Son in Daenerys VII and VIII:

Something tickled at her memory. "Ser Barristan, what are the arms of House Martell?"

"A sun in splendor, transfixed by a spear."

The sun's son. A shiver went through her. "Shadows and whispers." What else had Quaithe said? The pale mare and the sun's son. There was a lion in it too, and a dragon. Or am I the dragon? "Beware the perfumed seneschal." That she remembered. "Dreams and prophecies. Why must they always be in riddles? I hate this. Oh, leave me, ser. Tomorrow is my wedding day."

...

The pale mare. Daenerys sighed. Quaithe warned me of the pale mare's coming. She told me of the Dornish prince as well, the sun's son. She told me much and more, but all in riddles.

George has talked about the fickle nature of prophecy in the books and publicly, citing the Duke of Somerset's death at the Battle of St. Albans in Shakespeare's Henry VI as an example of why the literal or easiest interpretations are not always the most reliable. While Dany's conclusion that Quentyn is the 'Sun's Son' seems straightforward, she bases it solely on Barristan's description of the Martell arms. Her reasoning is mainly to justify marrying Hizdahr by dismissing the Martell offer, as Dany herself barely remembers Quaithe's warning and bemoans her 'riddles'.

Assuming that the 'Pale Mare' refers to the 'bloody flux' that the Astapori refugees bring to Meereen, and that the Kraken, dark flame, lion, griffon and mummer's dragon refer to Victarion Greyjoy, Moqorro, Tyrion, Connington and Young Griff respectively, the sequence of Quaithe's warning makes no sense with Quentyn as the 'Sun's Son.' At the end of ADWD, Tyrion is outside the walls of Meereen while Victarion and Moqorro are en route with the Iron Fleet, and Connington and Young Griff are in Westeros. If Dany's return to Meereen from the Dothraki Sea is followed by her journeying westwards, then this sequence makes sense. Victarion will likely destroy the Slaver's fleets and is seeking Dany's hand in marriage, while Moqorro is with him for the purpose of acknowledging her as Azor Ahai and encouraging her to free the slaves of Volantis. Given Tyrion's association with Varys, Illyrio, Jorah and now 'Brown Ben Plumm,' and his family's role in Robert's rebellion, it makes sense that he would not immediately seek out Daenerys on her return to Meereen. Connington and Young Griff await her in Westeros, but Quentyn as the 'Sun's Son' precedes all of them, breaking Quaithe's otherwise sensible sequence. If Quentyn were the 'Sun's Son' he could just as easily have been paired with the Kraken, since both are sent by the heads of their houses to offer her an alliance, while Tyrion and Moqorro travel together on the Selaesori Qhoran (the 'Perfumed Seneschal') and Connington and Griff are in league with Varys.

The far greater issue with Dany's interpretation is that we have access to Quentyn's POV, and there is nothing to suggest that he seeks to betray Daenerys. His purpose was to approach Dany with a marriage alliance, to assist her in reclaiming her crown; his party was even sent by Tatters to scope out the situation in Meereen for a possible double-crossing of the Yunkai'i, specifically to aid Dany. The only thing close to untoward that he does is attempt to claim one of her Dragons, and this was a desperation move driven by his insecurities and his fear of returning to his father empty handed, which would mean that his fallen companions died for nothing:

"What name do you think they will give me, should I return to Dorne without Daenerys?" Prince Quentyn asked. "Quentyn the Cautious? Quentyn the Craven? Quentyn the Quail?" (The Discarded Knight, ADWD)

Volantis, Quentyn thought. Then Lys, then home. Back the way I came, empty-handed. Three brave men dead, for what?

...

His father would speak no word of rebuke, Quentyn knew, but the disappointment would be there in his eyes. His sister would be scornful, the Sand Snakes would mock him with smiles sharp as swords, and Lord Yronwood, his second father, who had sent his own son along to keep him safe … (The Spurned Suitor, ADWD)

Disqualifying Quentyn as the Sun's Son leaves us with only three options, of which only one really works. Trystane is the only other son of House Martell aside from Quentyn via Prince Doran, and given his limited roll in the story thus far I think it's safe to cross him off the list. Doran could theoretically work as the 'Sun's son,' as his mother was Princess of Dorne before him; given that Quaithe describes the figures as going to Dany, Doran's limited mobility and poor health would disqualify him. This leaves us with only one 'son of a sun,' that being 'Young Griff,' aka Aegon VI Targaryen, the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne.

This association of Aegon with the Martells via his mother fits with the copious amounts of imagery linking him to the Rhoynar and to 'Egg' aka Aegon V of "Dunk and Egg" fame, specifically that character's travels in Dorne. Tyrion finds him living on a pole boat in the Rhoyne River, home of the ancient Rhoynar culture that Dorne descends from. The Shy Maid is operated by Yandry and Ysilla, so-called 'orphans of the Greenblood' which are another allusion to Dunk and Egg's travels on the Greenblood River in Dorne:

A poleboat had taken them down the Greenblood to the Planky Town, where they took passage for Oldtown on the galleas White Lady.

...

When they’d been poling down the Greenblood, the orphan girls had made a game of rubbing Egg’s shaven head for luck. (The Sworn Sword)

In Tyrion IV of ADWD, a massive horned turtle appears in the river by the Shy Maid, an obvious reference to the Rhoynish 'Old Man of the River,':

It was another turtle, a horned turtle of enormous size, its dark green shell mottled with brown and overgrown with water moss and crusty black river molluscs. It raised its head and bellowed, a deep-throated thrumming roar louder than any warhorn that Tyrion had ever heard. “We are blessed,” Ysilla was crying loudly, as tears streamed down her face. “We are blessed, we are blessed.”

Duck was hooting, and Young Griff too. Haldon came out on deck to learn the cause of the commotion . . . but too late. The giant turtle had vanished below the water once again. “What was the cause of all that noise?” the Halfmaester asked.

“A turtle,” said Tyrion. “A turtle bigger than this boat.”

“It was him,” cried Yandry. “The Old Man of the River.”

And why not? Tyrion grinned. Gods and wonders always appear, to attend the birth of kings.

When Tyrion and Haldon visit the Painted Turtle inn to find information about Daenerys' whereabouts, we have an interesting description of the inn from Tyrion:

The ridged shell of some immense turtle hung above its door, painted in garish colors. Inside a hundred dim red candles burned like distant stars. (Tyrion VI, ADWD)

We once more have Rhoynish symbolism in the turtle, while the 'garish colors' are reminiscent of Young Griff's hair, which is dyed blue in the Tyroshi fashion. Tyrion's description of inside the 'Painted Turtle' is one of dim red candles burning like stars, which can be seen as an oblique reference to the red rubies on Rhaegar's black breastplate, thereby associating the red of Targaryen heraldry with the cultural symbols of the Rhoynar.

The 'Dunk and Egg' imagery goes further, with both Egg and Aegon wearing distinctive straw sun hats, and being accompanied by their Hedge Knights from the Stormlands, both of whom have titles derived from their own simplistic personalities (Duncan the Tall, Rolly Duckfield). Moreover, Egg's journeying to Dorne ends up giving him refuge from the Spring Sickness that ravages Westeros, while Aegon's time in Essos serves as a refuge from Robert's spies and the chaos of the War of the Five Kings. While these similarities might be viewed as a doomed attempt by Varys to recreate Egg through Aegon, I think the purpose of these parallels is to establish both princes as following similar trajectories: both are sons of a Targaryen prince (Maekar, Rhaegar) and a Dornish noblewoman (Dyana Dayne, Elia Martell); become King of the Seven Kingdoms through unexpected circumstances: and if George plans to end ADOS with a mini-Dance of the Dragons, I would expect Aegon VI to meet a fiery end like Egg did.

If Young Griff is actually Aegon VI Targaryen as well as the 'Sun's Son,' this leaves the 'mummer's dragon' without any clear identity. Part of this is due to the conviction that Dany's identification of the cloth dragon from the undying visions with a 'mummer's dragon' or puppet dragon must be correct. In truth, there are countless cases from ADWD alone that show us that a mummer's object is not necessarily a puppet, but more broadly means something which is not as it appears:

I know one stands before me now, weeping mummer's tears. The realization made her sad. (Daenerys III, ADWD)

"Not here," warned Gerris, with a mummer's empty smile. "We'll speak of this tonight, when we make camp." (The Windblown, ADWD)

"My lord, I bear you no ill will. The rancor I showed you in the Merman's Court was a mummer's farce put on to please our friends of Frey."

...

I drink with Jared, jape with Symond, promise Rhaegar the hand of my own beloved granddaughter … but never think that means I have forgotten. The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer's farce is almost done. My son is home." (Davos IV, ADWD)

His reign as prince of Winterfell had been a brief one. He had played his part in the mummer's show, giving the feigned Arya to be wed, and now he was of no further use to Roose Bolton. (The Turncloak, ADWD)

Fat Wyman Manderly, Whoresbane Umber, the men of House Hornwood and House Tallhart, the Lockes and Flints and Ryswells, all of them were northmen, sworn to House Stark for generations beyond count. It was the girl who held them here, Lord Eddard's blood, but the girl was just a mummer's ploy, a lamb in a direwolf's skin. So why not send the northmen forth to battle Stannis before the farce unraveled? (A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD)

Mummer's tears and smiles are obviously false emotions, being affectations put on to hide what someone truly feels. Wyman Manderly is engaged in a mummer's farce wherein he pretends to be loyal to King Tommen and Roose Bolton, but in truth is scheming to restore the Starks to Winterfell and assist Stannis against the Boltons. Roose Bolton, Petyr Baelish and the Crown have in turn engaged in their own mummer's farce by sending Jeyne Poole north to wed Ramsay Snow in the guise of Arya Stark, "a lamb in direwolf's skin." If the 'mummer's dragon' is in fact a dragon that has been made to appear as something else, then Jon Snow more than fits this bill. By birth he should be a Targaryen, having been fathered by Rhaegar Targaryen upon Lyanna Stark; instead, his fortuitous Stark features inherited from his mother, and Ned's claiming Jon as his bastard and raising him amongst his children at Winterfell, has allowed Jon to hide in plain sight from those who would kill him for being Rhaegar's son.

The significance of Dany, Jon and Aegon being the three heads of the dragon is due to their mirroring a less conspicuous triad in George's World: elemental magic and it's connections to the Long Night. We are aware of three forms of elemental magic in the story, being pyromancy, cryomancy and hydromancy. Pyromancy is the most obvious, being the control and use of fire as we see with followers of Rhllor, and also tied to dragons. Cryomancy or ice magic appears in the powers of the Others and in the Wall separating the Seven Kingdoms from the lands beyond. Finally we have hydromancy or water magic, which was used by the Rhoynar against the Valyrian Freedhold and by Nymeria's Rhoynar settlers to support their communities within the deserts of Dorne. Company of the Cat has an excellent video discussing these three 'schools' of magic, but to summarize what she's said: Blue, Red and Green are the colours commonly associated with Ice, Fire and Water/the Sea in ASOIAF; in addition to being featured on the arms of ancient houses such as Massey and Strong, these elements are in turn associated with three magical items in the books. The first, The Horn of Joramun, can raise and lower The Wall (Ice); Dragonbinder, a horn that was likely used alongside similar horns to control the volcanoes of the fourteen flames in Valyria (Fire); and the 'Kraken summoning horn' which is most likely the Hammer of the Waters, since the Hammer raised the seas to swamp the 'Arm of Dorne,' which would have filled the seas fill with corpses of the dead and 'summoned' krakens, which would have fed on the bodies of the drowned.

The Valyrian, Northern and Rhoynish heritage of Dany, Jon and Aegon ties them to these three forms of magic respectively, and by extension to the Long Night. We are given three accounts of the Long Night between ASOIAF and TWOIAF, which I dub the 'western,' 'far eastern' and 'near eastern' versions. The 'western' account concerns the First Men, the Night's Watch, the Last Hero and the Others; the 'far eastern' account covers the 'Jade Compendium' and the Yi Tish account of the Blood Betrayal; and the 'near eastern' or Rhoynar account in which the children of Mother Rhoyne sang a song to return light to the world. Aegon is tied to the Rhoynish account through his mother's heritage, with references to the Rhoynish account in the 'Old Man of the River' appearing in ADWD and Dany's vision of Rhaegar talking about Aegon's 'Song' (that of Ice and Fire):

The Rhoynar tell of a darkness that made the Rhoyne of Essos dwindle and disappear, her waters frozen as far south as the joining of the Selhoru, until a hero convinced the many children of Mother Rhoyne, such as the Crab King and the Old man of the River, to put aside their bickering and join in a secret song that brought back the day. (TWOIAF: Ancient History: The Long Night)

...

“Will you make a song for him?” the woman asked.

“He has a song,” the man replied. “He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.” (Daenerys IV, ACOK)

Jon's connection to the Northern account is obvious given his Stark lineage and service in the Night's Watch, as well as his dreams in ADWD:

Burning shafts hissed upward, trailing tongues of fire. Scarecrow brothers tumbled down, black cloaks ablaze. "Snow," an eagle cried, as foemen scuttled up the ice like spiders. Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist. As the dead men reached the top of the Wall he sent them down to die again. He slew a greybeard and a beardless boy, a giant, a gaunt man with filed teeth, a girl with thick red hair. Too late he recognized Ygritte. She was gone as quick as she'd appeared.

The world dissolved into a red mist. Jon stabbed and slashed and cut. He hacked down Donal Noye and gutted Deaf Dick Follard. Qhorin Halfhand stumbled to his knees, trying in vain to staunch the flow of blood from his neck. "I am the Lord of Winterfell," Jon screamed. It was Robb before him now, his hair wet with melting snow. Longclaw took his head off. Then a gnarled hand seized Jon roughly by the shoulder. He whirled … (Jon XII, ADWD)

Finally, Dany is directly referred to as Azor Ahai in the books while her visions from Daenerys IX of AGOT connect her bloodline to the Great Empire of the Dawn. The eye colours of the figures she sees match the titles of four of the eight emperors of the GEOTD, Opal, Jade, Tourmaline and Amethyst, with the Bloodstone Emperor killing his sister the Amethyst Empress and causing the Long Night. Azor Ahai and the Bloodstone Emperor are themselves connected, and I recommend David Lightbringer's Nightbringer series and "Azor Ahai the Bad Guy" video for a concise explanation. It's worth noting that David is well within the Faegon Blackfyre camp, but I think his theories here more than fit my own conclusions also.

Aegon being one of the three heads also fits in with the symbolic relationship between water, fire and ice and the green, red and blue colour scheme. As Company of the Cat points out in her video about the magic horns (timestamp 26:52), green is a secondary colour made from a 'cool' and a 'warm' colour, placing it in the middle of the spectrum while red and blue are polar opposites. Similarly, fire can melt ice back into water and water in turn quenches fire, situating Aegon at a middle ground between Jon's ice and Dany's fire. Whereas Jon's only aspect of himself that ties him to House Targaryen is his father and otherwise he is firmly associated with his mother's house, Dany is tied symbolically to her Targaryen identity in the books, being a product of Targaryen incest, the first to hatch dragons in over a century, and her ties to fire through her 'rebirth' on Mirri's pyre under the Red Comet. While Aegon's physical appearance and his father tie him clearly to House Targaryen like Dany, the support of his mother's family alongside his Rhoynar lineage and symbolism place him in a similar situation to Jon, besides their being half-brothers. This also calls to mind the three accounts of the Long Night: if Jon is the Last Hero leading the Night's Watch and Dany is Azor Ahai driving out the darkness with her 'lightbringer' (ie her dragons), Aegon is the unnamed hero who rallied the children of Mother Rhoyne to sing a secret song which brought back the day. To quote alexis_something_rose's essay about Young Griff, "I can wager who will be bickering and who will tell them to set their differences aside and join together in a secret song that will bring back the day."

Whether or not all three or some combination of them will play a decisive role in defeating the Others, or if that will be Bran's part to play, I believe strongly that Dany, Jon and Aegon will be the 'three heads of the dragon.' If 'Young Griff' is truly Sun's Son, Aegon son of Rhaegar, his joining with Dany and Jon represents a unification of the three Dawn Age narratives of the Long Night and it's eventual end. Uniting the icey North, the dragon lord's fire and the songs of Mother Rhoyne would make the endgame a true 'Song of Ice and Fire.'

[parkerslatte]

Songbird

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

Warnings: sexual assault, drugs, alcohol, sexual content.

Summary: Up and coming singer, Y/N L/N is mostly known across the Sunset Strip for her deep and sultry voice. Despite this, she isn't signed to any label. It was her one dream to perform for people all over the world. Stuck working at a record store and living with two girls who don't even know her name, Y/N continues to perform gigs in McNasties, hoping to catch the attention of a producer.

While performing at McNasties, Y/N meets up and coming band, The Dunne Brothers. Just from listening to a few of their songs alone, Y/N knew they would be big in the future. How big she definitely underestimated.

Moving in with the band only a week after meeting them, she binds with them all and they all become fast friends - all bonding over the experience of trying to become successful.

Y/N was there for the tours, the performances and the arguments and now she's telling her part in the story.

Started: 3rd April 2023

Finished: 15th May 2023

Total Word Count: 60,747

Masterlist

Taglist

•••

Contents:

Track One; Oh No!

Track Two; Here We Go Again

Track Three; Exactly What I Want

Track Four; Dance Past Midnight

Track Five; Days Go By

Track Six; Sleeping With a Friend

Track Seven; Killer Queen

Track Eight; This is Trouble

Track Nine; Baby Said

Track Ten; Bubblegum Bitch

Track Eleven; Don’t Act Like You Don’t Know

Track Twelve; Maneater

Track Thirteen; Kill You With A Wink Of Her Eye

Track Fourteen; Ballroom Blitz

Track Fifteen; Sip the Gossip

Track Sixteen; I Want Some More

Track Seventeen; Out of my Depth

Track Eighteen; I Don’t Know Where I Belong

Track Nineteen; Nobody Loves a Gloomy Face

Track Twenty; Summertime Sadness

Track Twenty-One; Running Away From This Conversation

Track Twenty-Two; The Things You Love You Lose

Track Twenty-Three; Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Track Twenty-Four; Look At Us Now

•••

SOUNDTRACK

I. fleetwood mac; SONGBIRD

II. marina; OH NO!

III. nelly furtado; MANEATER

IV. neon trees; ANIMALS

V. stevie nicks; EDGE OF SEVENTEEN

VI. toby sebastian, florence pugh; MIDNIGHT

VII. queen; KILLER QUEEN

VIII. sweet; BALLROOM BLITZ

IX. arctic monkeys; I WANNA BE YOURS

X. neon trees; SLEEPING WITH A FRIEND

XI. the orion experience; THE QUEEN OF WHITE LIES

XII. marina; BUBBLEGUM BITCH

XIII. the lumineers; HO HEY

XIV. måneskin; BABY SAID

XV. lana del rey; SUMMERTIME SADNESS

XVI. måneskin, tom morello; GOSSIP

XVII. florence + the machine; YOU'VE GOT THE LOVE

XVIII. daisy jones and the six; LOOK AT US NOW (HONEYCOMB)

•••

Authors note:

- This is an x reader version I am publishing. The original name of the character is Felicity Fletcher (so if the name is accidentally left in there that is the reason why)

- This fic will mainly follow the show with some things taken from the book.

- Finally I hope you will all enjoy this story. If anyone would like anymore information feel free to send an ask or message me :)

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

The chance of William not marrying for love is higher than what most people insist.

I just want to answer this anon. I think people like to think that William and Kate aren’t in love because they look at people through their roles or like generalized labels or like through the lens of rules they think should exist in the universe. As Joan Didion said, we tell ourselves stories in order to live. A lot of people know that royals or aristocrat often marry for money or convenience. It’s true that historically, royals get into arranged marriages.

But I would like to offer a different perspective. We can try and see the humanity in each person. I know that’s difficult to do with royals because they’re so media trained and private. But paying proper attention to the stories of these people, the tiny bit of personality that comes through in their interviews and stuff, sometimes we can see their individual stories, their individual personalities. While it’s true that there’s a high chance that the heir to the throne like William would not marry for love, we can infer from the story of his life laid out that there’s a chance he did. My opinion of William is that he’s actually a lot more transparent than people realize. Or maybe it’s just the result of his parents being Charles and Diana who couldn’t stop themselves leaking left and right in the 90s, that there’s no choice but for a lot of things to be laid bare for us. Of course, William is still very private and we might be wrong in our assessment, but we can’t also always generalize.

What I’m saying is, this is the man who in his engagement interview, didn’t shy away in showing how affected he was about his parent’s past. He said something about learning from the past. We also know from things Diana said and from William’s own demeanor that he’s someone who gives a lot of thought to things. We also know from interviews he’s given as a teenager that he struggles with the fact that his role pulls him in different directions and he’s protective of his self, which can sometimes appear to be stubbornness. What I’m saying is, we can infer from these things that this is a man with his own mind. So I would say that from all the things we think we know about William, there’s also a high chance that he would insist on marrying exactly who he wanted to marry or who he loved.

I would also say that even though we know historically that royals get into arranged marriages, we can’t always be sure of how the story goes. I mean, if we’re looking into history, for example, Henry VII and Elizabeth of York married for political reasons. Their union ended the War of the Roses, and yet most historians would agree that it seems they found love along the way and that Henry VII was one of the monarchs with no known mistress. However, royals can fancy themselves in love too in the beginning but the story doesn’t end in a good note. Henry VIII, for example. I think most historians would also agree that he was enamored with Anne Boleyn. Maybe it wasn’t love, maybe it was lust. But the thing is, he fancied himself in love at the beginning, but obviously it ended horribly. A lot of people also forget that Henry VIII was happy at one point with Catherine of Aragon.

What I’m saying is, while we can all generalize that “oh, royals do not marry for love” or we can have a sense of “oh these rich people are all unhappy!”, but they have their own stories too. And so do we, being “norma people” or not being as rich does not guarantee happiness or finding true love. Marrying for love does not guarantee happily ever after also, but we can only wish the best for everyone.

Thanks, anon! You make some really good points here.

I don't have anything to add except: if royals and aristos aren't supposed to be marrying for love, someone better tell the romance writers because they're out of a job now.

[bradshawsbaby]

Letters to My Love // Part VIII

We’ll Meet Again

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: Oh my goodness, it’s been well over a month since I last updated this story and I sincerely apologize for that! I hope you all enjoy Bobby and Peach’s next set of letters!

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story.

The title of this chapter comes from the song of the same name by Vera Lynn, a song which also happens to factor into this part of the story!

Dedication: As always, this story is dedicated to my dear friend, @luminousnotmatter​. Clara, thank you, thank you, thank you for your support of this story!

Warnings: Alternating POV, brief allusions to war, and references to rationing. This chapter is mostly fluff, fluff, and more fluff!

March 6, 1943

Sweet Peach,

Looks like I have my own elephant in the room to address this time. You asked for a photograph, and I’ve inundated you with five. Trust me, you think Dottie is bad, but I would dare to wager that she’s not nearly as insufferable as the lugheads I’m bunking with over here. When they caught wind of the fact that I was planning to send you a photo—which, for the record, was not at all forward of you to ask for and which actually gave my ego quite a nice boost—you should have seen the holy hullabaloo they raised. You really would have thought I was planning to feature myself on the front cover of Life Magazine with the way they carried on.

My original intent was to send you my graduation photo from Annapolis. My mother ended up packing a copy of it with my things when I left home—I think she was hoping I’d find a nice girl to give it to. She’ll be thrilled indeed to find that I have. Speaking of which, I hope you don’t mind that I’ve mentioned you in my letters to my family. I feel like you’ve become such a special part of my life, if you don’t mind me saying so, and I wanted them to get to know you a little bit, the way I have.

But anyway, like I was saying, I was glad that my mama tucked that photo away with my things so that I could have something to send you, though it’s by no means as spectacular as the photograph you sent me. When Tommy Boy and Benny found out that was the picture I was planning to send you, however, they started talking a whole bunch of nonsense about how I needed to send more pictures that showed off “the real me.” According to Benny, I look way too stiff and formal in my graduation photo. I told him that I thought the ladies were supposed to love a man in uniform, but he told me that’s apparently not the case when said uniform looks like it’s choking the life out of you. Tommy Boy said I should send you pictures that remind you of the fact that I actually do know how to have a good time—his words, not mine.

Even Paul agreed with them. That traitor.

To make a long story short, Peach, that’s why you’re (hopefully) holding those five photographs in your hand right now. In addition to my Annapolis photo—which my mother still happens to think is nice, even if the fellas don’t—are a few photos of us on board our carrier. I’m glad that you remember what I look like so that you don’t confuse me for my much better looking buddies—I hope seeing us side by side doesn’t do me too much of a disservice. I labeled them on the back for you, but there’s a few shots of me and Paul, then me, Benny, and Tommy Boy, then all four of us, then me standing beside me and Paul’s plane.

You know, now that I really think about it, I have a feeling that Benny and Tommy Boy’s grand scheme all along was to make sure that you had photographic evidence of them to show to all your friends and fellow USO volunteers. I tried to explain to them that you had very kindly informed me that most of the girls you know are spoken for, but they both still seem to have it in their heads that you can find a couple nice girls for them. Like I told you, they’re completely insufferable. Good thing they’re also pretty great guys, otherwise I don’t think I’d be able to stand it.

Anyway, all that to say that now you have some photographs, Peach. More than you asked for, I know, and I hope they don’t disappoint. Perhaps it was you who’s been remembering things with rose-colored glasses all this time and not me? Either way, I’ll stop rambling about it now.

Paul, Tommy Boy, and Benny send all their best. Paul especially appreciates all your kind words, and your thoughts for him and his family. He says he knew you were a great girl, right from the start when you nearly spilled that punch all over him.

Speaking of punch and the dance, congratulations to your friend, Emily! A little bit of good news in the midst of all this madness is always greatly appreciated. And I’m sure that when the time comes, you’re going to be the prettiest bridesmaid there ever was.

Can I be honest with you though, Peach? I’m sure Emily is a lovely girl, especially if she’s lucky enough to count you as a friend, but at the moment, I have to confess that I don’t hold her fiancé in quite as high esteem. Now to be fair, I don’t know much about this Eddie guy, but from what I do know, he has to be one of the most foolish men I’ve ever seen. Before I explain, I should mention that I saw Eddie at the dance that night, right before he pulled Emily out onto the dance floor. You might wonder how, and I’d tell you it was because I was standing a few feet away from the punch table like a total coward, trying to work up the nerve to go talk to you. So the truth, Peach, is that I saw what happened between you and Eddie—how he approached you and asked you if it would be alright if he asked Emily to dance.

On the one hand, I was selfishly relieved that he didn’t ask you. That meant that all hope wasn’t lost, and I might still get a shot to talk to you. But on the other hand, I couldn’t understand how one man could be so stupid, if you’ll pardon my saying so. Like I said, I’m sure Emily is a lovely girl, but I don’t understand how anyone could see you, Peach—especially that night, when you looked so beautiful in your pretty party dress—and think to dance with anyone else. I suppose you’re right though. It is funny how things work out. And as big a fool as I thought Eddie to be at the time, if I saw him right now, I might just shake his hand and thank him. Because if he hadn’t been a fool, I might not be talking to you right now. And let me tell you, Peach, that is as depressing a thought as any I can think of. So three cheers for Eddie and Emily! I wish them nothing but a lifetime of happiness, and I’ll join them in praying for an end to this war so that they can have their big wedding.

It sure is wild to think that in your last letter, you were telling me about your holidays, and now it’s already March. Time feels like it’s flying much too fast, but not quick enough at the same time. Do you know what I mean?

Paul still can’t believe how big Clara and Paul, Jr. are getting every time Natasha sends him updates. In her last few letters, she wrote that Paul, Jr. has finally started talking—she was very smug that his first word was “Mama,” but only because Clara’s first word was “Dada.” And now that he’s started, he just can’t stop. He’s starting to call everyone by their names—or at least his version of their names—and he even says “Dada” now when Natasha points to pictures of Paul. In her most recent letter, Natasha said he was even starting to walk and that she’s been having to chase him all over the house. “He’s going to be a runner, like his daddy,” she wrote. Did I ever tell you, Peach, that Paul and I ran track and field in high school? He could always run circles around me. Paul’s quite the proud papa, and he’s been bragging about his family to anyone on the carrier who will listen—it usually ends up being me, Tommy Boy, and Benny.

I’m sure little Frankie—or maybe not so little anymore—is starting to walk and talk now, too. Has he been giving you, Dottie, and Paddy a run for your money?

Peach, you once called me an honest man and so I don’t want to lie to you now—as much as I’d like to say that I’m sorry to hear you haven’t been attending any more dances, I’m just not as good a man as all that. The truth of the matter is that I’m quite chuffed (can you tell I’ve been spending time with a lot of Brits?) to hear that you’re saving a dance for me. It makes me want to finish this war and get home all the faster, knowing you’ll be there to welcome me back.

You know, we’ve actually gotten to enjoy a few USO performances over here recently. It does a lot to lift our spirits, and it always makes me think of you. One of the singers performed that Vera Lynn song, “We’ll Meet Again” the other night and I couldn’t help but imagine how nice it would be to be dancing with you again. I thought I might share some of the lyrics with you, the ones that really made me think of you:

We'll meet again

Don't know where

Don't know when

But I know we'll meet again some sunny day

Keep smiling through

Just like you always do

'Til the blue skies chase those dark clouds far away

I believe deep down in my heart that we’re going to meet again, Peach. Just like the song says, I might not know where and I might not know when, but I know it’s going to happen. And what a happy day that will be, when I get to see your smiling face again.

I haven’t even sent this letter yet, and I already can’t wait to receive your next one. I hope whatever you’re doing right now, Peach, it’s bringing a smile to your face and that you’re doing real well.

Until next time and until we meet again.

Most Truly Yours,

Bobby

P.S. I’m very embarrassed to admit that for a farm boy from Iowa, I’ve got quite the brown thumb. My only advice to you and Dottie when it comes to your Victory Garden is don’t do anything I would do!

April 2, 1943

Dear Bobby,

What an absolute treat to receive not one, but five wonderful photographs with your last letter! You can tell Tommy Boy and Benny that they were dead wrong—I would have been MORE than happy with just your photo from Annapolis! I think you look remarkably handsome in it, and I’m very thankful to your mother for thinking to send it along with you. The other photos you included are just the icing on the cake.

I love getting a tiny glimpse of what life is like for you over there, and it’s so good to see all of you smiling, despite the circumstances. Tommy Boy, Benny, and Paul all look very handsome as well, but between the two of us, I don’t think any of them could hold a candle to you. Still, it does make me wonder if being handsome is a requirement for joining the Navy nowadays? If so, I’d say you all certainly fit the bill.

Dottie was quite eager to see your picture, and I’ll have you know that she declared you even more handsome than she had been imagining—and my big sister has quite a vivid imagination, let me tell you. Paddy teased her about it endlessly, saying that maybe she should find herself her own pen pal considering how much she seems to enjoy sticking her nose into my correspondences. Just to get back at him, Dottie traded our extra coffee rations with one of our neighbors for more sugar rations. Paddy grumbled about it the next few mornings, but Dottie made it up to him with a chocolate cake after dinner.

I’ve been keeping all your photographs on the desk in my room, Bobby, and I’m looking at them right now as I pen this letter. I promise you that I certainly wasn’t remembering you through rose-colored glasses and that, in fact, you’re even more handsome than my faulty memory could recall. I especially love the pictures of you with your friends—your smiles are all so bright that I can actually feel the joy of your friendship just by looking at them. You have such a lovely smile, Bobby, made all the lovelier by the fact that you have such a wonderful heart underneath.

While we’re on the topic of photographs, it seems that you and I are starting to play tag with them. Since you sent such sweet photographs of you and the boys, I thought I might send a photograph I really loved that we took while we were home in Georgia for Christmas. That’s me, Dottie, Frankie, and Paddy on Christmas morning, right before everyone started opening their presents. Since I talk about them all so much in my letters, I thought it might be nice for you to put some faces with their names. Besides Paddy, of course, since you already know his face.

By the way, I’m truly touched to know that you’ve mentioned me in your letters to your family. Of course I don’t mind it! My family knows all about you, so it seems only right that you should be able to tell your family about me. Maybe one day we’ll all get to be together to share some peach cobbler and pumpkin pie!

Tell Paul, Benny, and Tommy Boy that I say hello and that they looked great in those photos! Tell Tommy Boy and Benny in particular to keep their chins up, and that they’ll find two lucky girls to call their own very soon! And you can tell Paul that I’m still mortified about that punch spill.

Oh, Bobby, I’m so embarrassed to think you overheard my conversation with Eddie that night! Truth be told, in that moment, I felt so silly. I thought for sure he was going to ask me to dance, so I felt a bit ridiculous when it turned out he just wanted to know if it was okay to ask Emily. In all honesty, I really wanted to leave after that. But then you showed up and everything changed. My whole night turned around. Dottie always says that everything happens for a reason, and I really do believe that. I think Eddie and Emily were meant to meet each other that night, just like you and I were meant to meet each other, Bobby. Knowing you has brought so much goodness to my life, and I can’t imagine what it would be like if our paths hadn’t crossed that night. So now I can say thank goodness for Eddie wanting to dance with Emily!

I know exactly what you mean about time, Bobby. Dottie and I were just talking about how we want time to slow down because it feels like Frankie is growing up way too fast! Just like Paul, Jr., Frankie is walking now and we have to be vigilant at all times to make sure he isn’t getting into any mischief. Just the other day, he somehow managed to get his hands on Paddy’s keys and hide them under the couch. We spent hours looking for them! He also said his first word a couple months ago—Dada. Thankfully, Paddy was home to hear it, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so proud. Dottie pretended to be miffed—”Fifteen hours I spend in labor with that boy and he says ‘Dada’ first!”—but she really was excited, too. Now he also says Mama, hi, bye-bye, and milk. Sometimes he’ll say doggy, too, when we see dogs out on the street. The funniest thing is that he seems to have given me the nickname “Cookie.” Whenever Dottie asks him who I am, he laughs and says, “Cookie!” So to you, I’m Peach and to my nephew, I’m Cookie. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve all these food nicknames!

I’m so thrilled to hear that the USO has finally made its way over to you boys! I can’t imagine what you’re all going through over there, but I know that you do deserve an opportunity to relax and unwind.

That Vera Lynn song is so beautiful, and my heart is so full to hear that it made you think of me, Bobby. After I read your letter, I remembered that we actually have a record of that song in the house, so I immediately went and put it on. I admit, I played it a few times and imagined that you were here dancing with me. We will meet again, Bobby, I just know it. I feel it in my heart, too, the same as you. And the sun will be shining bright when we do, just like the song says.

I hope the sun is shining on you right now, Bobby, and that wherever you are, you’re safe and you know that I’m thinking of you and wishing you the speediest return home.

Until we meet again, know that I’m sending you all my very best.

Most Affectionately Yours,

Peach

P.S. Dottie and I have been cursed with brown thumbs ourselves, but we’re determined to make this Victory Garden work! I’ll keep you updated on our efforts!

P.P.S. I know it will probably be a while until we hear from each other again, so I want to wish you a very Happy Easter. Stay safe, Bobby!

[starry-eyed-wild-child]

🌻 'someone new' series masterlist 🌻

kappa x reader

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii part viii part ix part x part xi part xii part xiii part xiv part xv part xvi part xvii part xviii part xix part xx part xxi part xxii epilogue

series moodboard HERE

series playlist HERE

there's an art to life's distraction,

to somehow escape the burning wait,

the art of scraping through,

some like to imagine, the dark caress of someone else,

i guess any thrill will do

~ 'someone new by hozier' ~

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

summary: an unexpected night leads you into joining a hippie cult, after you instantly become the new favourite of your enigmatic leader, kappa. he's your ride or die and maybe, just maybe, you're as crazy as him

warnings: swearing, violence (this is a cult y'all), hippies (are we warnings lmao?), substance abuse mentions, alcohol and drugs, cheating (kinda? you'll understand), smut in later chapters, low-key toxic relationship, blood and murder, clear signs of mental health issues (like babes, you fell in love with a cult leader, you're clearly not okay), heavy religious themes and biblical references, pregnancies and miscarriages, there's probably more tbh but I'll label each chapter with the right warnings

a/n: whooo!! here it is guys! my first ever kappa fic list i'm so very excited to share this with you all and i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i have had planning and writing it.

also, yes, mostly all chapters are lyrics to hozier songs

♡♡

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

[jazztag]

An Encounter in the Snow VIII

The Captain paces around his quarters nervously, his hands intertwined behind his back, his eyes glued to the floor. The fireplace burns quietly in the center of the room. Nights have just been getting colder since the start of November.

Suddenly, a knock at the door. Hero doesn’t look up. He just stands in front of the fire as the cadet peeks his head inside the room.

“Sir, I have what you requested.”

The Captain nods and walks straight to him to retrieve an old notebook, punished by the passing of time. It’s dusty and has stains of mud all over its cover.

“Where did you find it?” asks Hero. The soldier scratches his neck.

“Somewhere between the first and third base. Someone might have been dropped. It was between some piles of bodies, buried in the mud. I hope the pages haven't given up,” he adds, signaling the bad state of the book.

The cadet is about to leave, but Hero stops him dead in his tracks.

“Heard you came from occupied land.”

“Sir?” asks the young cadet.

“Could you translate it for me, soldier?”

The young man, who hasn’t been in the field for more than a year, stands straight, eager to help.

“Yes, sir!”

The two men sit at the desk, the soldier in a chair, Hero right by his side standing on his feet. The Captain's arms are crossed on his chest, deep in thought.

“Go on,” tells the soldier, and the boy opens the notebook carefully, as if the thing could disintegrate by just looking at it. His fingers slide the first blank pages, which only have written a couple of numbers.

“1923-08,” reads aloud the soldier.

“I can read dates as well, yes,” mumbles Hero, peeking from behind his shoulder. “Let’s get to the first few pages. Are you familiar with Polareçe?”

“I fled the country when I was only ten, sir. But I should be able to read it, at least.”

The Captain nods, starting to pace towards the window, looking outside at the light rain which pours tonight.

“The first page,” starts the soldier, concentrating on the task, “is a list of imports from August of last year. They are labeled as ‘cattle.’”

“No more than animals to them, then. I see.”

“Indeed, sir. It lists eight subjects, with dates, numbers, and aliases associated with them. It seems the dates are DOBs. It seems all ‘cattle’ were born in 1899, between September and December of that year.”

“Which makes the dog… 24. Huh. So young and already so troubled. Who knows the horrors they live through just to reach that age.”

“I’ve never heard of a weapon who lives past 25, sir. They are eventually used in suicidal missions when their bones and senses start failing. Their life is practically designed to be useful between the ages of 17 and 24. After that, any body collapses from exhaustion.”

“Then we surely stumbled onto a great catch. I’m sure the enemy was planning on getting rid of Weapon this very same year.” Hero imagines the monster with a few hundred grams of explosives attached to his body, running full speed towards their base. “What about the numbers on the list?”

“They might be codes, sir.”

“And the names? The aliases?”

The soldier sits straight and then reads aloud, struggling a bit with the pronunciation:

“Zundr, Açerö, Avirin, Vel·lor, Solkïr, Vicci, Rraptúrr, Iüçe. They all sound male to me.”

Hero thinks about Weapon, sleeping peacefully as he left him in his cell. He can’t imagine which one of the names is his.

“You’re telling me that we probably have seven more weapons running around the battlefield, huh?”

“Probably the enemy has executed them by now, sir.”

“How so?”

The soldier looks up from the notebook, straight at the Captain.

“As I said, sir. They kill them after reaching their 24th year of life. This fall is their expiration of the contract. Here,” and the soldier motions towards some dates written under the list of names.

“Huh,” is the only thing that Hero says. 1923-11. This November. Well, isn’t the dog lucky?

“Anything more in the list? Weapons? Skills? Training completed?”

The soldier shuffles through the next page. “After those, it looks like someone has written down a record for each mission. They have written down… Dates, numbers… The numbers might be of the deaths. There are some observations.”

“When was the last mission?” asks Hero, nervously, as he retrieves the notebook from the soldier's hands, looking at the last page. The date is from this very same September. 116.

“Damn,” he mumbles. The soldier stands by his side, peeking at the scribbles as well.

“Whoever is locked down there, he managed to kill 116 soldiers in a few hours, on September 9th. Be it alone or not, that’s actually… ”

“Macabre,” mumbles the Captain.

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