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istumpysk · 1 year

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: A Ghost in Winterfell (Theon VI) [Chapter 46]

It's a Christmas murder mystery! 🎄🎅🏼🎁

Thank you for allowing me the break. I needed it before tackling this chapter.

It wasn't Harren, Arya wanted to say, it was me. She had killed Chiswyck with a whisper, and she would kill two more before she was through. I'm the ghost in Harrenhal, she thought. And that night, there was one less name to hate. - Arya VII, ACOK

Before we get started, I have to point out something that may or may not be important.

It's a rare Arya -> Theon chapter transition. We all know sometimes the character transitions are significant, sometimes they're not.

In ACOK, mysterious deaths start happening at Harrenhal, which is paralleled in this chapter.

While it was Jaqen killing the men, it was Arya who was responsible for the deaths. She was the ghost in Harrenhal. She called herself the ghost in Harrenhal.

Is that relevant right now? I don't know.

On we go.

+.+.+

The dead man was found at the base of the inner wall, with his neck broken and only his left leg showing above the snow that had buried him during the night.

If Ramsay's bitches had not dug him up, he might have stayed buried till spring. By the time Ben Bones pulled them off, Grey Jeyne had eaten so much of the dead man's face that half the day was gone before they knew for certain who he'd been: a man-at-arms of four-and-forty years who had marched north with Roger Ryswell. "A drunk," Ryswell declared. "Pissing off the wall, I'll wager. He slipped and fell." No one disagreed. But Theon Greyjoy found himself wondering why any man would climb the snow-slick steps to the battlements in the black of night just to take a piss.

Right away let's get it all out there.

The murders that happen in this chapter aren't considered much of a mystery. It is all but confirmed by the text that the wildling spearwives are responsible for the killings.

It's foreshadowed in ACOK.

The killings stopped after Farlen's death, but even so his men continued sullen and anxious. "They fear no foe in open battle," Black Lorren told him, "but it is another thing to dwell among enemies, never knowing if the washerwoman means to kiss you or kill you, or whether the serving boy is filling your cup with ale or bale. We would do well to leave this place." - Theon V, ACOK

Osha seduces and kills one of Theon's men.

Theon flung the cup into the hearth. "I'd say Drennan was pulling down his breeches to stick it in the woman when she stuck it in him. His own cheese knife, by the look of it. Someone find a pike and fish the other fool out of the moat." - Theon IV, ACOK

We're shown a Ryswell privately canoodling with a spearwife in the previous Theon chapter.

Beneath the Burned Tower, he passed Rickard Ryswell nuzzling at the neck of another one of Abel's washerwomen, the plump one with the apple cheeks and pug nose. The girl was barefoot in the snow, bundled up in a fur cloak. He thought she might be naked underneath. - The Turncloak, ADWD

And Theon outright accuses them.

"Touch me," he said. "Kill me." There was more despair than defiance in his voice. "Go on. Do me, the way you did the others. Yellow Dick and the rest. It was you."

Holly laughed. "How could it be us? We're women. Teats and cunnies. Here to be fucked, not feared." - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

Little Walder, thought Theon. The big one. He glanced at Rowan. There are six of them, he remembered. Any of them could have done this. But the washerwoman felt his eyes. "This was no work of ours," she said. - Theon I, ADWD

"Words are wind." They are no better than me. We're just the same. "You killed the others, why not him? Yellow Dick—"

"—stank as bad as you. A pig of a man."

"And Little Walder was a piglet. Killing him brought the Freys and Manderlys to dagger points, that was cunning, you—"

"Not us." Rowan grabbed him by the throat and shoved him back against the barracks wall, her face an inch from his. "Say it again and I will rip your lying tongue out, kinslayer." - Theon I, ADWD

With no denial.

In the following Theon chapter Rowan is adamant they didn't kill Little Walder (they didn't), but isn't bothered by the accusation that they killed the rest. Putting all of that together we can safely assume they're the killers.

However, I'm not happy unless I'm throwing widely accepted theories into the garbage.

Therefore, we're going to remain open-minded, and examine the possibility Theon's the ghost in Winterfell who is killing these men.

Yes, I realize that sounds ridiculous.

Moving on.

The first murder is a Ryswell man-at-arms thrown from the battlements.

Theon - the potential murderer - doesn't believe the man was drunk and fell. Theon doesn't buy any of the causes of death throughout the chapter. On its own that's not remotely suspicious, but it's something to keep in mind as the evidence builds.

Of course you're asking yourself how come Theon's internal monologue is never incriminating. If he's killing these men, surely that's going to be reflected in his thoughts, yes?

We'll cover that as we go, but I'll quickly say Theon has demonstrated a bit of detachment from reality, potentially has an alter ego, and probably isn't consciously aware he's killed these men.

I know this is insane, please keep reading the post.

Back to the kill. A man is thrown from the battlements. Theon and the battlements. It's less clear here, but it becomes more obvious the locations and causes of death are all relevant to Theon.

Above, he could see some squires building snowmen along the battlements. They were arming them with spears and shields, putting iron halfhelms on their heads, and arraying them along the inner wall, a rank of snowy sentinels. "Lord Winter has joined us with his levies," one of the sentries outside the Great Hall japed … until he saw Theon's face and realized who he was talking to. Then he turned his head and spat. - The Turncloak, ADWD

+.+.+

As the garrison broke its fast that morning on stale bread fried in bacon grease (the lords and knights ate the bacon), the talk along the benches was of little but the corpse.

"Stannis has friends inside the castle," Theon heard one serjeant mutter. He was an old Tallhart man, three trees sewn on his ragged surcoat. The watch had just changed. Men were coming in from the cold, stomping their feet to knock the snow off their boots and breeches as the midday meal was served—blood sausage, leeks, and brown bread still warm from the ovens.

A potential red flag.

Blink and you would have thought that was a continuous scene. We've jumped from breakfast to a midday meal in the span of seconds. There's no indication hours have passed in the middle of this thought.

Is this horrific writing or is Theon's mind a little jumbled?

+.+.+

Endless, ceaseless, merciless, the snow had fallen day and night. Drifts climbed the walls and filled the crenels along the battlements, white blankets covered every roof, tents sagged beneath the weight. Ropes were strung from hall to hall to help men keep from getting lost as they crossed the yards. Sentries crowded into the guard turrets to warm half-frozen hands over glowing braziers, leaving the wallwalks to the snowy sentinels the squires had thrown up, who grew larger and stranger every night as wind and weather worked their will upon them. Ragged beards of ice grew down the spears clasped in their snowy fists. No less a man than Hosteen Frey, who had been heard growling that he did not fear a little snow, lost an ear to frostbite.

The snowmen are growing larger and stranger. Whatever that means.

Ser Stupid Frey is about to be in over his head. Literally.

He's gonna fall in a lake.

Water will be over his head.

His men will be well nourished, ours go into battle with empty bellies. It makes no matter. Ser Stupid, Lord Too-Fat, the Bastard, let them come. We hold the ground, and that I mean to turn to our advantage. - Theon I, ADWD

+.+.+

The horses in the yards suffered most. The blankets thrown over them to keep them warm soaked through and froze if not changed regularly. When fires were lit to keep the cold at bay, they did more harm then good. The warhorses feared the flames and fought to get away, injuring themselves and other horses as they twisted at their lines. Only the horses in the stables were safe and warm, but the stables were already overcrowded.

On the real, how are those Dothraki warhorses going to cope with dragon flames going off around them?

+.+.+

"The gods have turned against us," old Lord Locke was heard to say in the Great Hall. "This is their wroth. A wind as cold as hell itself and snows that never end. We are cursed."

"Stannis is cursed," a Dreadfort man insisted. "He is the one out there in the storm."

"Lord Stannis might be warmer than we know," one foolish freerider argued. "His sorceress can summon fire. Might be her red god can melt these snows."

That was unwise, Theon knew at once. The man spoke too loudly, and in the hearing of Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn and Ben Bones. When the tale reached Lord Ramsay, he sent his Bastard's Boys to seize the man and drag him out into the snow. "As you seem so fond of Stannis, we will send you to him," he said.

Theon might be a little mad, but he's still one of the more astute POVs in the story (ADWD only). Most of the time you can trust his assessment of a person or situation. I say this with Barbrey Dustin in mind.

Yes, Stannis will temporarily melt the snows. Bad news for Shireen, great news for Sansa who has to get to the Wall.

+.+.+

Then, whilst Skinner and Yellow Dick made wagers on how fast his blood would freeze, Ramsay had the man dragged up to the Battlements Gate.

[...]

The bleeding freerider was carried across the bridge and up the steps, still protesting. Then Skinner and Sour Alyn seized his arms and legs and tossed him from the wall to the ground eighty feet below. The drifts had climbed so high that they swallowed the man bodily … but bowmen on the battlements claimed they glimpsed him sometime later, dragging a broken leg through the snow. One feathered his rump with an arrow as he wriggled away. "He will be dead within the hour," Lord Ramsay promised.

"Or he'll be sucking Lord Stannis's cock before the sun goes down," Whoresbane Umber threw back.

"He best take care it don't break off," laughed Rickard Ryswell. "Any man out there in this, his cock is frozen hard."

ha HA, get it?? In weather like this, you're better to not have a cock if you're going to fall from the battlements and survive.

+.+.+

Winterfell's great main gates were closed and barred, and so choked with ice and snow that the portcullis would need to be chipped free before it could be raised. Much the same was true of the Hunter's Gate, though there at least ice was not a problem, since the gate had seen recent use. The Kingsroad Gate had not, and ice had frozen those drawbridge chains rock hard. Which left the Battlements Gate, a small arched postern in the inner wall. Only half a gate, in truth, it had a drawbridge that spanned the frozen moat but no corresponding gateway through the outer wall, offering access to the outer ramparts but not the world beyond.

The author would like everyone to know it's impossible to leave through a gate.

+.+.+

"Lord Stannis is lost in the storm," said Lady Dustin. "He's leagues away, dead or dying. Let winter do its worst. A few more days and the snows will bury him and his army both."

And us as well, thought Theon, marveling at her folly. Lady Barbrey was of the north and should have known better. The old gods might be listening.

It's up to you to decide whether she's as foolish as she seems.

My stance remains the same. She is.

+.+.+

"Never touch me," he said, twisting down to snatch the fallen utensil off the floor before one of Ramsay's girls could get hold of it. "Never touch me."

She sat down next to him, too close, another of Abel's washerwomen. This one was young, fifteen or maybe sixteen, with shaggy blond hair in need of a good wash and a pair of pouty lips in need of a good kiss. "Some girls like to touch," she said, with a little half-smile. "If it please m'lord, I'm Holly."

Holly the whore, he thought, but she was pretty enough. Once he might have laughed and pulled her into his lap, but that day was done. "What do you want?"

"To see these crypts. Where are they, m'lord? Would you show me?" Holly toyed with a strand of her hair, coiling it around her little finger. "Deep and dark, they say. A good place for touching. All the dead kings watching."

"Did Abel send you to me?"

"Might be. Might be I sent myself. But if it's Abel you're wanting, I could bring him. He'll sing m'lord a sweet song."

Every word she said persuaded Theon that this was all some ploy. But whose, and to what end? What could Abel want of him? The man was just a singer, a pander with a lute and a false smile. He wants to know how I took the castle, but not to make a song of it. The answer came to him. He wants to know how we got in so he can get out. Lord Bolton had Winterfell sewn up tight as a babe's swaddling clothes. No one could come or go without his leave. He wants to flee, him and his washerwoman.

Theon correctly deduces Mance and his washerwomen are looking for a way out.

That's fantastic, but we also have every reason to believe Mance went to Winterfell with more than one goal.

Does she never sleep? What game are you playing, priestess? Did you have some other task for Mance? - Jon IX, ADWD

Mance Rayder and his spearwives had not returned, and Jon could not help but wonder whether the red woman had lied of a purpose. Is she playing her own game? - Jon X, ADWD

He wondered where Mance was now. Did he ever find you, little sister? Or were you just a ploy he used so I would set him free? - Jon XI, ADWD

Why is the wildling interested in the crypts?

"The steps go farther down," observed Lady Dustin.

"There are lower levels. Older. The lowest level is partly collapsed, I hear. I have never been down there." - The Turncloak, ADWD

What is on the lower levels?

+.+.+

Theon groped his way to the wall, then followed it to the Battlements Gate. He might have taken the guards for a pair of Little Walder's snowmen if he had not seen the white plumes of their breath. "I want to walk the walls," he told them, his own breath frosting in the air.

"Bloody cold up there," one warned.

"Bloody cold down here," the other said, "but you do as you like, turncloak." He waved Theon through the gate.

The steps were snow-packed and slippery, treacherous in the dark. Once he reached the wallwalk, it did not take him long to find the place where they'd thrown down the freerider. He knocked aside the wall of fresh-fallen snow filling up the crenel and leaned out between the merlons. I could jump, he thought. He lived, why shouldn't I? He could jump, and … And what? Break a leg and die beneath the snow? Creep away to freeze to death?

✨ foreshadowing ✨

Want to know how stupid the fandom is?

Euron turned to face him, his bruised blue lips curled in a half smile. "Perhaps we can fly. All of us. How will we ever know unless we leap from some tall tower?" The wind came gusting through the window and stirred his sable cloak. There was something obscene and disturbing about his nakedness. "No man ever truly knows what he can do unless he dares to leap." - The Reaver, AFFC

Looking back that's such obvious Theon foreshadowing, yet everyone in the world thinks it means Euron is somehow tied to Bloodraven.

We're going to ignore the fact that I also didn't make the connection to Theon at the time.

+.+.+

The next morning Ser Aenys Frey's grizzled squire was found naked and dead of exposure in the old castle lichyard, his face so obscured by hoarfrost that he appeared to be wearing a mask. Ser Aenys put it forth that the man had drunk too much and gotten lost in the storm, though no one could explain why he had taken off his clothes to go outside. Another drunkard, Theon thought. Wine could drown a host of suspicions.

Then, before the day was done, a crossbowman sworn to the Flints turned up in the stables with a broken skull. Kicked by a horse, Lord Ramsay declared. A club, more like, Theon decided.

The second murder is a naked Frey squire found in the lichyard.

Makes perfect sense it was a washerwoman seducing the squire. They were spotted in the area in a previous Theon chapter.

Even here in this half-frozen lichyard of a castle, surrounded by snow and ice and death, there were women. Washerwomen. - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

However, Theon also frequently visits the lichyard at night, and is petrified of being naked.

"No." He could not let them take the clothes Lord Ramsay gave him. He could not let them see him. - Reek III, ADWD

Theon peeled his gloves off and held his hands up for them to see. It is not as if I stand before them naked. - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

The third murder is a Flint crossbowman found in the stables.

Nothing connecting the spearwives to the stables.

Quite the opposite for Theon, who has had several traumatic memories about the stables leading up to this.

The memory came back in a rush. Smiler's screams had sounded almost human. His mane afire, he had reared up on his hind legs, blind with pain, lashing out with his hooves. No, no. Not mine, he was not mine, Reek never had a horse. - Reek II, ADWD

He set my horse afire. That was the last sight he had seen the day the castle fell: Smiler burning, the flames leaping from his mane as he reared up, kicking, screaming, his eyes white with terror. Here in this very yard. - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

Beyond the tents the big destriers of the knights from White Harbor and the Twins were shivering in their horse lines. Ramsay had burned the stables when he sacked Winterfell, so his father had thrown up new ones twice as large as the old, to accommodate the warhorses and palfreys of his lords' bannermen and knights. - The Turncloak, ADWD

So far we have dead men sworn to the Ryswells, Freys, and Flints.

Do the spearwives know the internal politics of the north? I'll let you decide.

+.+.+

It all seemed so familiar, like a mummer show that he had seen before. Only the mummers had changed. Roose Bolton was playing the part that Theon had played the last time round, and the dead men were playing the parts of Aggar, Gynir Rednose, and Gelmarr the Grim. Reek was there too, he remembered, but he was a different Reek, a Reek with bloody hands and lies dripping from his lips, sweet as honey. Reek, Reek, it rhymes with sneak.

And which part are you playing, Theon?

Theon is correct, we've done this before. Not just Arya. In ACOK, there was another ghost in Winterfell causing mysterious deaths. We know it was Reek (Ramsay) who was responsible.

Theon pointing out the similarities seems to suggest this Reek (Theon) might be committing the murders again.

+.+.+

"How long must we sit here waiting for this king who never comes?" Ser Hosteen Frey demanded. "We should take the fight to Stannis and make an end to him."

[...]

Lord Wyman Manderly slapped his massive belly. "White Harbor does not fear to ride with you, Ser Hosteen. Lead us out, and my knights will ride behind you."

Ser Hosteen turned on the fat man. "Close enough to drive a lance through my back, aye. Where are my kin, Manderly? Tell me that. Your guests, who brought your son back to you."

Wyman Manderly is so funny. A treasure.

That is exactly what will happen.

Lord Bolton unrolled the parchment. "His host lies not three days' ride from here, snowbound and starving, and I for one am tired of waiting on his pleasure. Ser Hosteen, assemble your knights and men-at-arms by the main gates. As you are so eager for battle, you shall strike our first blow. Lord Wyman, gather your White Harbor men by the east gate. They shall go forth as well." - Theon I, ADWD

The Freys will fall in a lake, will the Manderlys be more lucky?

Unfortunately Stannis doesn't know Wyman Manderly conspires against the Boltons.

"Wyman Manderly." The king's mouth twisted in contempt. "Lord Too-Fat-to-Sit-a-Horse. Too fat to come to me, yet he comes to Winterfell. Too fat to bend the knee and swear me his sword, yet now he wields that sword for Bolton. I sent my Onion Lord to treat with him, and Lord Too-Fat butchered him and mounted his head and hands on the walls of White Harbor for the Freys to gloat over. And the Freys... has the Red Wedding been forgotten?" - Theon I, TWOW

There's a lot of room for an oopsie here.

+.+.+

"His bones, you mean." Manderly speared a chunk of ham with his dagger. "I recall them well. Rhaegar of the round shoulders, with his glib tongue. Bold Ser Jared, so swift to draw his steel. Symond the spymaster, always clinking coins. They brought home Wendel's bones. It was Tywin Lannister who returned Wylis to me, safe and whole, as he had promised. A man of his word, Lord Tywin, Seven save his soul." Lord Wyman popped the meat into his mouth, chewed it noisily, smacked his lips, and said, "The road has many dangers, ser. I gave your brothers guest gifts when we took our leave of White Harbor. We swore we would meet again at the wedding. Many and more bore witness to our parting."

Lol.

+.+.+

"Step out into the yard, you sack of suet, and I'll serve you all the bloody bits that you can stomach," Ser Hosteen said.

He might like that.

+.+.+

Wyman Manderly laughed, but half a dozen of his knights were on their feet at once. It fell to Roger Ryswell and Barbrey Dustin to calm them with quiet words. Roose Bolton said nothing at all. But Theon Greyjoy saw a look in his pale eyes that he had never seen before—an uneasiness, even a hint of fear.

Bwahahahahaha.

+.+.+

That night the new stable collapsed beneath the weight of the snow that had buried it. Twenty-six horses and two grooms died, crushed beneath the falling roof or smothered under the snows. It took the best part of the morning to dig out the bodies.

Dear lord (@aegor-bamfsteel),

Please forgive me for laughing at all the imaginary dead horses. This does not represent who I am as a person.

Anyway, what kind of northerner doesn't know you have to remove heavy snow from an unstable roof? Please, George.

+.+.+

And no sooner had the men finished digging out the dead men and butchering the horses than another corpse was found.

This one could not be waved away as some drunken tumble or the kick of a horse. The dead man was one of Ramsay's favorites, the squat, scrofulous, ill-favored man-at-arms called Yellow Dick. Whether his dick had actually been yellow was hard to determine, as someone had sliced it off and stuffed it into his mouth so forcefully they had broken three of his teeth. When the cooks found him outside the kitchens, buried up to his neck in a snowdrift, both dick and man were blue from cold.

The fourth murder is Yellow Dick, one of Ramsay's favourites.

His teeth are broken (!), and his penis is cut off (!!!).

He rubbed his mouth to hide his broken teeth, and said, "I need to speak with your commander." - Reek II, ADWD

"Reek, get over here. Get her ready for me."

For a moment he did not understand. "I … do you mean … m'lord, I have no … I …" - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

A penis shoved in the mouth of one of Ramsay's favourites feels a little personal to me. What about you?

+.+.+

"Burn the body," Roose Bolton ordered, "and see that you do not speak of this. I'll not have this tale spread."

The tale spread nonetheless. By midday most of Winterfell had heard, many from the lips of Ramsay Bolton, whose "boy" Yellow Dick had been.

I bet Roose is thrilled Ramsay can't keep his mouth shut.

+.+.+

The horsemeat was too tough for the ruins of Theon's teeth. His attempts to chew gave him excruciating pain. So he mashed the neeps and onions up together with the flat of his dagger and made a meal of that, then cut the horse up very small, sucked on each piece, and spat it out.

Quick reminder of the state of Theon's mouth.

Dagger! Highlighting for later.

+.+.+

Lord Bolton commanded Abel to play for them as they ate. The bard sang "Iron Lances," then "The Winter Maid." When Barbrey Dustin asked for something more cheerful, he gave them "The Queen Took Off Her Sandal, the King Took Off His Crown," and "The Bear and the Maiden Fair." The Freys joined the singing, and even a few northmen slammed their fists on the table to the chorus, bellowing, "A bear! A bear!" But the noise frightened the horses, so the singers soon let off and the music died away.

[...]

He fled quickly, before they changed their minds. His tormentors would not follow him outside. Not so long as there was food and drink within, willing women and warm fires. As he left the hall, Abel was singing "The Maids That Bloom in Spring."

I'll let you guys read into the songs.

I'm mostly including this so everyone knows Mance is accounted for, and can't be the Hooded Man.

Seriously, the amount of people I saw speculating it was Mance would blow your mind. When I say people can't read I mean they can't read.

+.+.+

Outside the snow was coming down so heavily that Theon could not see more than three feet ahead of him. He found himself alone in a white wilderness, walls of snow looming up to either side of him chest high. When he raised his head, the snowflakes brushed his cheeks like cold soft kisses. He could hear the sound of music from the hall behind him. A soft song now, and sad. For a moment he felt almost at peace.

Did you know people use this to dismiss the jonsa in Sansa's drifting snowflakes? Lol.

Poor bastards don't know about the prologue.

+.+.+

Farther on, he came upon a man striding in the opposite direction, a hooded cloak flapping behind him. When they found themselves face-to-face their eyes met briefly. The man put a hand on his dagger. "Theon Turncloak. Theon Kinslayer."

"I'm not. I never … I was ironborn."

"False is all you were. How is it you still breathe?"

"The gods are not done with me," Theon answered, wondering if this could be the killer, the night walker who had stuffed Yellow Dick's cock into his mouth and pushed Roger Ryswell's groom off the battlements. Oddly, he was not afraid. He pulled the glove from his left hand. "Lord Ramsay is not done with me."

The man looked, and laughed. "I leave you to him, then."

Theon trudged through the storm until his arms and legs were caked with snow and his hands and feet had gone numb from cold, then climbed to the battlements of the inner wall again.

Oh goodie, is it time for another meta?

Who is the Hooded Man? Wait until you see how many candidates we have to cover. I'm truly blessed.

I'll leave Theon for last, but to start off I'll let everyone know the general consensus is the Theon Durden theory.

In the movie Fight Club, Tyler Durden is a figment of the The Narrator's imagination. Many theorize the Hooded Man is a manifestation of Theon's own psyche. Theon Durden.

Okay, let's get to it.

THE CANDIDATES

A Banefort

Who? Yeah, exactly. House Banefort of the Westerlands has a black hooded man on a grey field as their sigil.

Um, Black Hood is a comic book reference.

Benjen Stark

One of the more popular theories.

Why Benjen? Benjen is a missing Stark, there's a bizarre belief within the fandom that a Stark literally needs to be at Winterfell at all times or the world will collapse, and there's an exchange between him and Bran that people have read far too much into.

At the feast in honor of King Robert's visit to Winterfell, Bran had recited the names for his uncle Benjen, east to west and then west to east. Benjen Stark had laughed and said, "You know them better than I do, Bran. Perhaps you should be First Ranger. I'll stay here in your place." - Bran III, ASOS

Anyone who believes Benjen Stark could walk around Winterfell unnoticed is crazy.

Brynden "Blackfish" Tully

Missing, major character, and another Stark loyalist.

Same as Benjen, you don't think someone would have recognized Blackfish by now?

Besides, the former Knight of the Gate is going to the Vale, the ellipsis of truth told me so.

And if Ser Brynden should survive this siege, he might be inclined to claim Riverrun in his own name . . . or in the name of young Robert Arryn. - Jaime V, AFFC

Faceless Man

The Faceless Men are known for infiltrating castles and causing mischief, but there's zero evidence supporting this.

Galbart Glover

Master of Deepwood Motte, last seen in ASOS where he was sent to the Neck with Maege Mormont.

Personally I think he's sitting on a far bigger developing storyline.

Hallis Mollen

The second most popular theory ... yeah, you read that right.

Do you remember Hallis Mollen? Probably not. Member of Eddard Stark's household guard, tends to state the obvious, and was tasked with bringing Ned Stark's bones back to Winterfell in ACOK.

Hallis has been missing for quite awhile, and we're one Theon chapter removed from being reminded of Ned Stark's bones by Barbrey Dustin. Not only that, but Hallis Mollen = Hooded Man. Suspicious, right?

Wrong.

Are we seriously doing this? Hallis Mollen magically got to Winterfell with Ned's bones, and now he wanders around with a knife? Okay, and now what? He dismantles the Bolton empire from the inside?

Leave it to the fandom to take a nothing character and give him one of the most important roles in the north.

Now that I think about it, maybe Val is the Hooded Man.

Harwin

Another popular theory. Wow.

Current member of the brotherhood without banners, former member of the Stark household guard, and horse whisperer. Knows Arya is alive, and might have been motivated to come save her. The brotherhood without banners have infiltrated Riverrun, why not Winterfell?

Because it's stupid.

This is not Harwin. Have people forgotten how many clues there were that pointed to Tom Sevenstrings being the singer?

Hother "Whoresbane" Umber

It's implied all the high lords are in the Great Hall eating.

Umber is big picture betrayal, not petty murder betrayal.

Howland Reed

Stark loyalist, and eagerly awaiting his debut. Not to mention Howland Reed is actually every character in the story. Hooded Man? Howland Reed. The Knight of the Laughing Tree? Howland Reed. The High Sparrow? Howland Reed. Ser Shadrich? Howland Reed. Septa Lemore? Howland Reed.

If it was Howland, guaranteed Theon would have commented on the height of the man.

Mance Rayder

I'm speechless. We just saw him, he's in the Great Hall singing.

I swear to god introducing glamor to the story broke so many brains.

Mors "Crowfood" Umber

Stark loyalist, commits to Stannis, shows up right outside the castle by the end of this chapter, and calls Theon a kinslayer in the next book.

Uh, how is he getting in and out? Theon never connects Mors to the Hooded Man in the sample chapter. He's also a huge man, and that would have been mentioned.

Mountain Clansman

What? They're with Stannis.

Random Unnamed Northman Loyal to the Starks

Surprisingly popular theory.

I mean, maybe? Kind of hard to refute this. I don't mind when unnamed smallfolk are elevated within the story, but it's unlikely.

Robett Glover

Last seen conspiring against the Boltons with Manderly and Davos at White Harbor.

We don't know his current whereabouts, but he's not worth serious consideration. What is the point of Robett Glover being the Hooded Man? Wyman Manderly is already inside the castle, and could execute the same plot.

Rodrik Cassel

Oh my god.

I'm not lying, I came across this idea several times.

The Miller

As in the miller's wife's miller.

Jesus Christ. No.

___

All of these theories suck hard.

Which brings us to our final candidate.

Theon "Durden" Greyjoy

How very George R. R. Martin.

Farther on, he came upon a man striding in the opposite direction

Sounds symbolic. In Fight Club, Tyler Durden is everything The Narrator wishes he could be. Worth pointing out, after this encounter Theon's name will return as the header for his chapters.

One thing I think people miss is that if they're walking in opposite directions, the Hooded Man is walking towards the Great Hall. Why in the world would Benjen or Blackfish walk towards the Great Hall?

a hooded cloak flapping behind him.

Theon wears hooded cloaks.

Ice crunched beneath his boots, and a sudden gust pushed back his hood, as if a ghost had plucked at him with frozen fingers, hungry to gaze upon his face. - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

Babe, why are you hiding your face?

To be fair, many characters are described wearing hooded cloaks.

When they found themselves face-to-face their eyes met briefly.

Not explicitly stated, but it's implied they're similar height. Sorry to Howland and the Umber brothers.

Theon doesn't name the Hooded Man. Theon should be familiar with almost every notable figure from the north. He grew up in Winterfell, and was right by Robb's side throughout the war.

The man put a hand on his dagger.

Dagger!

A lot of attention is paid to the dagger Theon carries on his hip.

He could feel his missing fingers cramping: two on his left hand, one on his right. And on his hip his dagger rested, sleeping in its leather sheath, but heavy, oh so heavy. It is only my pinky gone on my right hand, Theon reminded himself. - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

To be fair, many people in Winterfell are described carrying daggers.

No longswords had been allowed within the hall, but every man there wore a dagger, even Theon Greyjoy. How else to cut his meat? - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

"Theon Turncloak. Theon Kinslayer."

The Hooded Man recognizes Theon despite Theon's altered appearance. Is that bad news for the Harwin and Hallis crowd?

More important, this is the first person to ever call Theon a kinslayer.

Theon will refer to himself as a brother to Ned's children in this same chapter.

The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name. I was Theon of House Greyjoy. I was a ward of Eddard Stark, a friend and brother to his children. - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

To be fair, Rowan the spearwife and Mors Umber will also call him a kinslayer.

"False is all you were. How is it you still breathe?" "The gods are not done with me," Theon answered

Where did you get that idea from?

If you've been following along you know Theon has been doing a whole lot of not killing himself despite claiming he wants to die.

Theon answered, wondering if this could be the killer, the night walker who had stuffed Yellow Dick's cock into his mouth and pushed Roger Ryswell's groom off the battlements.

If Theon is the Hooded Man he just questioned whether he's the murderer.

Oddly, he was not afraid. He pulled the glove from his left hand. "Lord Ramsay is not done with me."

Oddly, indeed. Theon isn't frightened of the Hooded Man, and volunteers his hand. Theon hates showing people his hands.

Later in this chapter he'll be approached by washerwomen, and won't come off quite as confident.

"I told you. I want to touch you, turncloak." Holly smiled. In her hand a blade appeared.

The man looked, and laughed. "I leave you to him, then."

Theon never laughs in ADWD. Not once.

If he had dared, he would have laughed. - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

Once he might have laughed and pulled her into his lap, but that day was done. - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

Theon would have laughed aloud if he'd remembered how. - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

Theon would have laughed if he had dared. - Theon I, ADWD

Does this mean the Hooded Man isn't Theon?

No. Tyler Durden is everything The Narrator wishes he could be. Theon Durden would laugh. He might also do a few murders that Reek isn't capable of.

We'll cover this again a little later.

___

ADDITIONAL ARGUMENTS

If Theon is the Hooded Man, it makes complete sense that Theon is also the ghost in Winterfell. If Theon is the ghost in Winterfell, it makes complete sense that Theon is also the Hooded Man. They work better in tandem.

If the Hooded Man isn't Theon, what the hell is he doing? It's Theon or the washerwomen killing all the men. If the Hooded Man isn't Theon he's just some dude walking around with a dagger he apparently doesn't know how to use.

Theon calls himself a ghost in Winterfell. The Hooded Man is a perfect embodiment of a ghost in Winterfell.

I made reference to it before but it bears repeating. If the Hooded Man is Theon Grejoy, it's so George R. R. Martin it hurts. Remember, it's Cersei who is the YMBQ. It's Daenerys who is the focus of almost every vision she's shown from The House of the Undying.

"Murdered by whose hand?" Cersei demanded.

"Have you ever considered that too many answers are the same as no answer at all? - Tyrion VIII, ADWD

___

THEON DURDEN COUNTER-ARGUMENTS

Theon is shown to be recovering mentally with each passing chapter, why has he suddenly developed schizophrenia?

Let me combine this with the next point.

Why is this not happening in a dream? George always writes characters having self-confrontations through dreams. Theon has an extensive history of this.

The reason it's not happening in a dream, and the reason he could be having sudden delusions, is because Theon suffers from insomnia. He can't sleep.

Though his arms and legs were thin as reeds, his belly was swollen and hollow, and ached so much that he found he could not sleep. - Reek I

Last night, unable to sleep, Theon had found himself brooding on escape, of slipping away unseen whilst Ramsay and his lord father had their attention elsewhere. - The Turncloak, ADWD

"I cannot sleep, m'lord. I walk." - A Ghost in Winterfell

In Fight Club, The Narrator very famously has insomnia. It's the reason he hallucinates an alter ego.

Regardless, I would argue the encounter feels like a dream anyway. The Hooded Man exists for precisely this one moment, and is never thought of again.

Why doesn't he recognize himself?

Why doesn't The Narrator recognize Tyler Durden as his alternate self?

Putting aside the fact that Theon is having one hell of an identity crisis throughout this book, if you read it again, I'm not even sure that's an accurate takeaway.

Why does he call himself a kinslayer?

Yeah, that's a head-scratcher.

Theon didn't kill Bran and Rickon. He knows he's not a kinslayer.

Many have suggested Theon might know the miller's boys were his. Listen, I hate Theon, but even I don't think he's capable of killing kids he suspects are his own.

My only explanation for this is that he blames himself for his brother Robb dying.

I got nothing else. I did my best.

+.+.+

He was trapped here, with the ghosts. The old ghosts from the crypts and the younger ones that he had made himself, Mikken and Farlen, Gynir Rednose, Aggar, Gelmarr the Grim, the miller's wife from Acorn Water and her two young sons, and all the rest. My work. My ghosts. They are all here, and they are angry. He thought of the crypts and those missing swords.

Ghosts he had made himself. His work. His ghosts. Mmkay.

Shoutout to @agentrouka-blog for reminding me of this killer Tyrion quote.

There are worse ways to die than drowning. And if truth be told, he had perished long ago, back in King's Landing. It was only his revenant who remained, the small vengeful ghost who throttled Shae and put a crossbow bolt through the great Lord Tywin's bowels. No man would mourn the thing that he'd become. I'll haunt the Seven Kingdoms, he thought, sinking deeper. They would not love me living, so let them dread me dead. - Tyrion V, ADWD

There are ghosts in Winterfell, he thought, and I am one of them. - The Turncloak, ADWD

+.+.+

Steelshanks led him back to the Great Keep and the solar that had once been Eddard Stark's. Lord Bolton was not alone. Lady Dustin sat with him, pale-faced and severe; an iron horsehead brooch clasped Roger Ryswell's cloak; Aenys Frey stood near the fire, pinched cheeks flushed with cold.

Notice how Roose didn't invite Ramsay, the lord of this castle and his supposed heir, to the meeting of Very Important People?

The rift between father and son is subtle, but it's there.

+.+.+

"I am told you have been wandering the castle," Lord Bolton began. "Men have reported seeing you in the stables, in the kitchens, in the barracks, on the battlements. You have been observed near the ruins of collapsed keeps, outside Lady Catelyn's old sept, coming and going from the godswood. Do you deny it?"

The author officially indicates the killer might be Theon.

+.+.+

"No, m'lord." Theon made sure to muddy up the word. He knew that pleased Lord Bolton. "I cannot sleep, m'lord. I walk." He kept his head down, fixed upon the old stale rushes scattered on the floor. It was not wise to look his lordship in the face.

Roose preferring Theon speak like a peasant is deranged.

+.+.+

"I was a boy here before the war. A ward of Eddard Stark."

"You were a hostage," Bolton said.

"Yes, m'lord. A hostage." It was my home, though. Not a true home, but the best I ever knew.

Is there a sadder character?

+.+.+

"Someone has been killing my men."

"Yes, m'lord."

"Not you, I trust?" Bolton's voice grew even softer. "You would not repay all my kindnesses with such treachery."

"No, m'lord, not me. I wouldn't. I … only walk, is all."

Normally I would jump out of my seat at that ellipsis of (un)truth, but Theon's dialogue is always written in this manner, so I don't know.

Damn, I want to believe in the ellipsis of (un)truth so bad.

+.+.+

Lady Dustin spoke up. "Take off your gloves."

Theon glanced up sharply. "Please, no. I … I …"

"Do as she says," Ser Aenys said. "Show us your hands."

Theon peeled his gloves off and held his hands up for them to see. It is not as if I stand before them naked. It is not so bad as that.

. . .

(Look who doesn't want to take off their gloves.)

+.+.+

Theon peeled his gloves off and held his hands up for them to see. It is not as if I stand before them naked. It is not so bad as that. His left hand had three fingers, his right four. Ramsay had taken only the pinky off the one, the ring finger and forefingers from the other.

"The Bastard did this to you," Lady Dustin said.

She's comfortable calling Ramsay a bastard in front of Roose because Roose doesn't care.

+.+.+

"Four is enough." Ser Aenys Frey fingered the wispy brown beard that sprouted from his weak chin like a rat's tail. "Four on his right hand. He could still hold a sword. A dagger."

Lady Dustin laughed. "Are all Freys such fools? Look at him. Hold a dagger? He hardly has the strength to hold a spoon. Do you truly think he could have overcome the Bastard's disgusting creature and shoved his manhood down his throat?"

"These dead were all strong men," said Roger Ryswell, "and none of them were stabbed. The turncloak's not our killer."

Roose Bolton's pale eyes were fixed on Theon, as sharp as Skinner's flaying knife. "I am inclined to agree. Strength aside, he does not have it in him to betray my son."

Are you not all side-eyeing this exchange?

They're LAUGHING at the prospect of it being Theon. It's simply impossible! Look at this pathetic weak man! Too broken to ever plot betrayal!

Is that not making your brain itch? This is the exact same dismissal Wyman Manderly receives from these people.

Are we sure it's the spearwives? Are we?

Strength aside, he does not have it in him to betray my son.

He does. :D

What about strength? Admittedly, that's the biggest issue with the theory. These men weren't stabbed. Is Theon capable of overpowering all the men he potentially killed?

I can't answer that question, but I think Theon gives himself more credit than Barbrey Dustin does.

Fear went through him like a knife. They are only children, he thought. Two boys of eight. He could overcome two boys of eight, surely. Even as weak as he was, he could take the torch, take the keys, take the dagger sheathed on Little Walder's hip, escape. - Reek I, ADWD

It is only my pinky gone on my right hand, Theon reminded himself. I can still grip a knife. - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

Side note, have to throw it in for fun:

Victarion is like some great grey bullock, strong and tireless and dutiful, but not like to win any races. No doubt, he'll serve me as loyally as he has served my lord father. He has neither the wits nor the ambition to plot betrayal.

He does. :D

+.+.+

Roger Ryswell grunted. "If not him, who? Stannis has some man inside the castle, that's plain."

Reek is no man. Not Reek. Not me. He wondered if Lady Dustin had told them about the crypts, the missing swords.

This has such guilty dog energy.

Not Reek. Not me. Theon Durden!

He thought of the crypts and those missing swords.

He wondered if Lady Dustin had told them about the crypts, the missing swords.

Kind of hilarious he's consumed with the missing swords, but not a hooded man with a dagger prowling around Winterfell.

+.+.+

"We must look at Manderly," muttered Ser Aenys Frey. "Lord Wyman loves us not."

Ryswell was not convinced. "He loves his steaks and chops and meat pies, though. Prowling the castle by dark would require him to leave the table. The only time he does that is when he seeks the privy for one of his hourlong squats."

Or to plot treason with Davos Seaworth.

+.+.+

"I do not claim Lord Wyman does the deeds himself. He brought three hundred men with him. A hundred knights. Any of them might have—"

"Night work is not knight's work," Lady Dustin said. "And Lord Wyman is not the only man who lost kin at your Red Wedding, Frey. Do you imagine Whoresbane loves you any better? If you did not hold the Greatjon, he would pull out your entrails and make you eat them, as Lady Hornwood ate her fingers. Flints, Cerwyns, Tallharts, Slates … they all had men with the Young Wolf."

"House Ryswell too," said Roger Ryswell.

"Even Dustins out of Barrowton." Lady Dustin parted her lips in a thin, feral smile. "The north remembers, Frey."

Barbrey's big moment that has the fandom convinced she's Team Stark.

All I see is a woman too chicken shit to acknowledge the Boltons are as culpable as the Freys.

+.+.+

"You are free to go. Take care where you wander. Else it might be you we find upon the morrow, smiling a red smile."

Roose should maybe ask himself why Theon, the most hated man in the castle, hasn't already been killed.

+.+.+

The hour of the wolf found him still awake, wrapped in layers of heavy wool and greasy fur, walking yet another circuit of the inner walls, hoping to exhaust himself enough to sleep. His legs were caked with snow to the knee, his head and shoulders shrouded in white. On this stretch of the wall the wind was in his face, and melting snow ran down his cheeks like icy tears.

Kind of sounds like a ghost.

+.+.+

Then he heard the horn.

A long low moan, it seemed to hang above the battlements, lingering in the black air, soaking deep into the bones of every man who heard it. All along the castle walls, sentries turned toward the sound, their hands tightening around the shafts of their spears. In the ruined halls and keeps of Winterfell, lords hushed other lords, horses nickered, and sleepers stirred in their dark corners. No sooner had the sound of the warhorn died away than a drum began to beat: BOOM doom BOOM doom BOOM doom. And a name passed from the lips of each man to the next, written in small white puffs of breath. Stannis, they whispered, Stannis is here, Stannis is come, Stannis, Stannis, Stannis.

Mors Umber, not Stannis.

"We had expected to find the king at Winterfell. This same blizzard has engulfed the castle, alas. Beneath its walls we found Mors Umber with a troop of raw green boys, waiting for the king's coming. He gave us this." - The Sacrifice, ADWD

With Stannis stuck in the village, Mors is a sitting duck outside the castle.

+.+.+

Theon shivered. Baratheon or Bolton, it made no matter to him. Stannis had made common cause with Jon Snow at the Wall, and Jon would take his head off in a heartbeat. Plucked from the clutches of one bastard to die at the hands of another, what a jape. Theon would have laughed aloud if he'd remembered how.

Covered in Hooded Man, but I want to expand on it.

Theon gets his name back, and can't stop laughing in TWOW.

"None. No men." He grinned at his own wit. - Theon I, TWOW

"Their spears and axes were older than the hands that clutched them. It was Whoresbane Umber who had the men, inside the castle. I saw them too. Old men, every one." Theon tittered. - Theon I, TWOW

Theon Greyjoy kicked his feet feebly, and laughed under his breath. Caught! - Theon I, TWOW

Theon's laugh was half a titter, half a whimper. - Theon I, TWOW

Not so hard to believe Theon Durden would laugh.

+.+.+

"Do they mean to try and blow our walls down?" japed a Flint when the warhorn sounded once again. "Mayhaps he thinks he's found the Horn of Joramun."

That is such a bizarre addition to the chapter it makes you stop reading.

What's at the bottom of the crypts, George?

+.+.+

"We should take the fight to him," declared a Frey.

Do that, Theon thought. Ride out into the snow and die.

They will. :D

+.+.+

Leave Winterfell to me and the ghosts. Roose Bolton would welcome such a fight, he sensed. He needs an end to this. The castle was too crowded to withstand a long siege, and too many of the lords here were of uncertain loyalty. 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? Slaughter in the snow. And every man who falls is one less foe for the Dreadfort.

Theon recognizing it all falls apart without the girl.

Because of the inclusion of the Ryswells, I'm not automatically assigning all these houses Team Stark.

the girl was just a mummer's ploy, a lamb in a direwolf's skin

Not to be mistaken with that other mummer's ploy: a direwolf in dragon's scales.

+.+.+

Theon wondered if he might be allowed to fight. Then at least he might die a man's death, sword in hand. That was a gift Ramsay would never give him, but Lord Roose might. If I beg him. I did all he asked of me, I played my part, I gave the girl away.

Death was the sweetest deliverance he could hope for.

I'm not sure it will be a sword.

How many fingers do you need for a bow?

As the maester knelt to examine the wound, Bran turned his head. Theon Greyjoy stood beside a sentinel tree, his bow in hand. He was smiling. Ever smiling. A half-dozen arrows were thrust into the soft ground at his feet, but it had taken only one. "A dead enemy is a thing of beauty," he announced. - Bran V, AGOT

+.+.+

And in the heart of the wood the weirwood waited with its knowing red eyes. Theon stopped by the edge of the pool and bowed his head before its carved red face. Even here he could hear the drumming, boom DOOM boom DOOM boom DOOM boom DOOM. Like distant thunder, the sound seemed to come from everywhere at once.

The night was windless, the snow drifting straight down out of a cold black sky, yet the leaves of the heart tree were rustling his name. "Theon," they seemed to whisper, "Theon."

The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name. I was Theon of House Greyjoy. I was a ward of Eddard Stark, a friend and brother to his children. "Please." He fell to his knees. "A sword, that's all I ask. Let me die as Theon, not as Reek." Tears trickled down his cheeks, impossibly warm. "I was ironborn. A son … a son of Pyke, of the islands."

Begging Bran to give his life purpose.

Is the boom DOOM supposed to feel like the Red Wedding?

+.+.+

A leaf drifted down from above, brushed his brow, and landed in the pool. It floated on the water, red, five-fingered, like a bloody hand. "… Bran," the tree murmured.

They know. The gods know. They saw what I did. And for one strange moment it seemed as if it were Bran's face carved into the pale trunk of the weirwood, staring down at him with eyes red and wise and sad. Bran's ghost, he thought, but that was madness. Why should Bran want to haunt him? He had been fond of the boy, had never done him any harm. It was not Bran we killed. It was not Rickon. They were only miller's sons, from the mill by the Acorn Water. "I had to have two heads, else they would have mocked me … laughed at me … they …"

Not sure what to make of that bloody leafy hand. Is the pool important?

Bran's ghost, he thought, but that was madness. Why should Bran want to haunt him? He had been fond of the boy, had never done him any harm.

I try to tolerate Theon. I really do.

+.+.+

A voice said, "Who are you talking to?"

Theon spun, terrified that Ramsay had found him, but it was just the washerwomen—Holly, Rowan, and one whose name he did not know. "The ghosts," he blurted. "They whisper to me. They … they know my name."

"Theon Turncloak." Rowan grabbed his ear, twisting. "You had to have two heads, did you?"

"Elsewise men would have laughed at him," said Holly.

They do not understand. Theon wrenched free. "What do you want?" he asked.

I'm not sure I'll ever understand how these wildlings became the biggest Stark loyalists in the story, or why they're prepared to die for Arya Stark, but whatever.

+.+.+

"I told you. I want to touch you, turncloak." Holly smiled. In her hand a blade appeared.

I could scream, Theon thought. Someone will hear. The castle is full of armed men. He would be dead before help reached him, to be sure, his blood soaking into the ground to feed the heart tree. And what would be so wrong with that? "Touch me," he said. "Kill me." There was more despair than defiance in his voice. "Go on. Do me, the way you did the others. Yellow Dick and the rest. It was you."

Holly laughed. "How could it be us? We're women. Teats and cunnies. Here to be fucked, not feared."

"Did the Bastard hurt you?" Rowan asked. "Chopped off your fingers, did he? Skinned your widdle toes? Knocked your teeth out? Poor lad." She patted his cheek. "There will be no more o' that, I promise. You prayed, and the gods sent us. You want to die as Theon? We'll give you that. A nice quick death, 'twill hardly hurt at all." She smiled. "But not till you've sung for Abel. He's waiting for you."

She laughs! She jokes. So obvious. Of course the washerwomen killed everyone ...

or did they.

Final thoughts:

I can't keep doing this. I'll be a puddle by the time we get to locusts.

One final thing I want to mention. The title of the chapter is A Ghost in Winterfell.

George abandoned his typical method of naming chapters.

The Prince of Winterfell, The Turncloak, The Dragontamer, The Griffin Reborn, The Discarded Knight, The Watcher, The Iron Captain, The Drowned Man, The Princess in the Tower, etc.

Unless it's a new name (Alayne, Reek, Cat, Mercy), George exclusively uses the instead of a.

Why does it change for this one chapter?

I don't know, but I can't help but feel that if it was 'The Ghost in Winterfell' the title reveals Theon as the murderer, whereas 'A Ghost in Winterfell' leaves it a mystery.

Okay, I'm crazy. I'll shut up now. It was the spearwives ...

or was it.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #a ghost in winterfell #theon vi

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go-river-flows · 1 year

Text

Welcome back to the Avatar Programme

Part 12 of 13

Summary: We're coming up to the end of the story now. Everything is wrapping up and coming to a close.

A/N: Sorry for the late upload, Ive been busy over the weekend and also had a terrible writer's block. But here I give you the final two chapters of the story!

“Corporal Wainfleet,” Quaritch stepped into the room, “Am I interrupting your canoodling?”

“Uh, no sir,” Lyle pulled away, taking a step in front of me. Quaritch lips pulled tight as if thinking.

“Well, do you care to join me at the flight line?” Lyle looked back at me as I looked at him, observing his actions.

“Yes, Colonel!” Lyle yelled in return. Taking a few steps towards the door, Lyle looked back with slightly glazed eyes. In his place, Fike entered the room taking a hold of my wrist dragging me away to the science department. Meeting Grace, Norm and Jake, interrupting whatever they were talking about.

“Quaritch is planning on hitting Hometree!” I yelled as I entered the room. The horrified expression recoiled on Grace, Norm and Jake’s faces. Trudy entered behind a few seconds later, in her uniform and helmet in hand about to open her mouth

“What?!”

“Quartich is going to hit Hometree,” Trudy repeated, confirming my words. Grace quickly stood and rushed past me returning to the Communications Tower again. Jake hurried after her wheeling out in a rush to catch up with her.

“Trudy, you’re flying out with Lyle right?” she nodded, “Keep him safe.” She gave a firm nod before taking her leave, rushing out towards the flightline.

“Oh my god,” Norm mumbled into his hands as he rubbed his face, breaking into a sweat, “I can't believe this is actually happening.”

“Grace will try to convince Selfridge into warning them at least,” I thought about it, “At least Selfridge has a bit of empathy, right?”

“God, I hope he does,” Norm sighed heavily, Grace returned with Jake, Selfridge and some soldiers in tow. Making their way into the Cradle room and we followed behind to keep up with the ensemble. Catching up to Max who Grace dragged along with her.

“Calibrate fast. We’re going in, right now,” Grace demanded.

“Calibrating three and four,” Ruth called out from the centre controls, opening the link beds.

“Run sequence.”

“Initiating, thirty seconds,” Max included as he got to Augustine’s control panel.

“Listen to me. You’ve got one hour. Unless you want your girlfriend in there when the axe comes down, you get them to evacuate. One hour,” Selfridge leant above Jake’s form, closing the cradle for him.

“I'm going in too,” I made for a link bed only to be stopped by a soldier.

“No, you're not,” the female soldier stood in front of me, stopping my movements.

“What? You have to. My avatar is at hometree. Unless you want a dead avatar there, I suggest you let me go in,” I poked my finger firm on her collarbone.

“No. I'm only letting Grace and Jake go to convince them to leave. You’re not authorised by any means,” Selfridge butted in, as Norm watched from the sidelines, not daring to do anything to aggravate him.

“But I–”

“No! Don't push it, (Y/N)!” Selfridge pushed me into the centre railing, “Don't make me cuff you.” I winced a little, feeling the cold metal through my shirt against my lower back.

“Hey!” Ruth yelled out making Selfridge stop as she turned the holograms to the live video feed direct from the aerospatiales (copters?). The feeds showing everything bright and clear as the fleet of copters approached Hometree. There being tied up was Grace and Jake, but my avatar was nowhere to be seen. As everyone gathered in the middle to watch everything unfold, the female soldier suddenly grabbed my arms forcing me to turn around as I fought back, knowing that she was going to cuff me, I’ll just make it difficult for her.

“My avatar isn't there! Let me go! Let me GO!!!” I felt the cold band tighten around my wrist as she pushed me to walk up the step to the middle, her hand at the back of my neck to restrain me, “Fuckin’ asshole! Let me go in! I’m gonna kill you Selfridge!” I continued to throw out curses at him as the assault began. At first it was incendiaries (gas rounds), then it was missiles. Flames spurted from the base of Hometree as the Na’vi started running out and away, like ants. My avatar body was gone, I just knew it. But I could do nothing as I was being held against my will, witnessing the destruction of a home. It was all over when Hometree started collapsing. Sending large splinters of wood and ash in all directions. That was it. The rage I felt when I lost Anuk and Sylwanin returned tenfold. With furious tears I whipped my head back, throwing the soldier off guard, the recoil breaking her nose sending her into a daze.

I was quickly apprehended again by another soldier, when Selfridge said the words I’d never hear him say.

“Pull the plug,” which was followed by resistance from Patel, Norm and Ruth, Norm acting quicker as he put himself between the soldiers and Grace’s control panel. A scuffle broke out between them and Norm threw some punches, only for a soldier to grab him and yank him away for the other to slap the big red button. The female soldier, cupping her bleeding nose, got to Jake’s cradle using her free hand to press the big red button on his control panel. Pulling the two of them out, mere seconds from each other. Norm was cuffed to the railing as I struggled against mine, the two soldiers dragged Grace and Jake from their link beds as Grace fought back.

“You murderer!” Grace screamed at Selfridge.

More reinforcements came in to drag the lot of us away. Through Hell’s Gate and shoving the lot of us into a single cell. Thankfully, they had uncuffed us and we sat in silence. I leant my head on Grace’s shoulder as she held my hand, rubbing soothing circles on my palm.

“Is my avatar still alive?” I whispered to her, she could only give a sad look.

“I don't know,” was all she could say. I don't know how long we sat in the cell for, but we soon had a visitor. Trudy.

She waved at the security guard, pushing a trolley as he opened the door for her.

“What's going on, brother? Long time no see.”

“Hey.” We all turned to look through the thick glass door, Norm sat up from his lazy position.

“Personally, I don't feel these tree-hugging traitors deserve steak.” She bullshitted.

“They get steak? That's bullshit. Let me see that,” he bent toward the trolley as Trudy stepped around the trolley, pulling out her hand-held gun. Pointing it at the base of his head as she chuckled.

“Yeah. You know what that is. Down,” she ordered the guard. Grace and Norm now stood as Jake turned his wheelchair around, watching the events transpire. “All the way down.” She smacked the butt of the gun hard on the guard’s temple, knocking him out, he let out a pained groan. Looking at the lot of us she called out to Max and Lyle, who ran in from the hall. Max tried his access key but it didn't work, before Lyle pushed him aside and used his. The door slid open, Norm exiting first with Jake and Grace following suit. I was last out when the elevator door right in front of us opened, revealing another soldier reading paperwork, looking up from it. Trudy acted fast, going straight for the poor guy disarming him and knocking him out in the elevator. Lyle pulled me into a bone-crushing hug, planting multiple kisses on my face.

“Baby, oh my god,” he whispered incoherently into my hair, kissing me all over, “I'm so glad you're safe. I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry.”

“Lyle,” I gripped onto him for dear life.

“I didn't see your avatar out there. I was so scared. I'm so sorry, baby. I couldn't do anything. I'm so sorry,” he kept repeating his eyes were a little wet and red, as if he had been crying.

“Come on. We gotta go!” Trudy called from the entrance of the tiny prison. We hastily made our way out, Trudy in front of us and Lyle behind us with their guns drawn. Making our way down a flight of stairs and many halls. Trudy and Norm ran ahead to get to the flightline first to start up her Samson. As we finally approached the depressurising chamber. Jake asked Max to stay behind as Lyle gave me a deep passionate kiss.

“Come with us,” I said.

“I can't–”

“Then I’ll stay–!”

“No! You can't. You’ll be safer with them. I’ll come find you after, I promise,” Lyle unhooked his dog tags from his neck, putting it around my neck as he gave one final kiss, pushing me into the chamber and closing the door right behind me. I looked at him through the glass, he gave a sad smile. Jake shoved a mask in my hand and I quickly slipped it on, turning to get one last look at Lyle. Grace opened the door and we hustled out.

Getting to Trudy’s samson, Grace and Norm helped Jake into the copter first as I folded up his wheelchair, lifting it in and hopping in myself. I sat on the left opening. The sudden sound of raining bullets hitting the samson alerting the lot of us.

“I'm taking fire! Let's go!” Trudy began to pull up when Norm was hanging on the side, Jake and Grace pulling him in. Trudy flew us away from Hell’s Gate as quickly as she could. I felt a burning sensation in my side, I looked down noticing a wet spot forming on my black shirt. I winced at the pain and added pressure onto the bullet wound, gasping at the pain.

“Yeah! Yeah!” Jake yelled out in excitement when the bullets stopped.

“Alright! Yes!” Norm followed. They whooped as we got further away from Hell’s Gate, but I was silently groaning from my bullet wound.

“Are you all good back there?” Trudy asked.

“Norm! You good?” Jake asked loudly through the roaring wind, Norm confirming he was fine. “Grace?” She chuckled out loud. “(Y/N)?”

I hissed at the pain not hearing him call my name.

“(Y/N)?” Grace slid into the seat next to me. I tried controlling my breath, but my body was going into shock. “(Y/N)?”

“I-I'm hit.” Grace’s face shifted to a horrified expression.

“Shit!” Jake and Norm cursed.

“(Y/N)’s hit!” Norm yelled to Trudy.

Grace moved her hand to find my wound, her fingertips grazing under my own feeling of a wet spot on my left waist, where my stomach was.

“Am I dying?” I choked out.

“No no no. You’re not gonna die,” Grace pushed down hard on my hand eliciting an abrupt yell from me.

“Is there an exit wound?” Jake slid closer, running his right hand under my shirt and around to my back, feeling around for any openings. There was no exit wound. Looking at Grace he shook his head no. Norm was mortified, his free hand covering his widened mouth whilst his other hand gripped onto the straps of the samson.

“Okay. We just need to keep pressure on the entry wound,” Grace slipped off the seat, guiding my body to lay down, “Trudy! Do you have a Trauma Kit?!”

“Yeah! It's here!” she called from the bulkhead, pulling a red bag from under her seat, handing it to Grace. Jake took over, his hand encompassing the wound, he pushed down hard on it eliciting another yell from me.

“What do we do?” Jake questioned Grace. I could feel the blood flowing out and my head getting lighter

“We have to treat it now, or risk infection. There will be internal bleeding but as long as we keep it in– (Y/N)! Don't fall asleep!” she noticed my eyelids slowly drooping. I open them whilst struggling to breathe. I could hear plastic packaging being torn open and Grace worked to patch me up, albeit rushed.

Trudy landed in the small clearing of Site 26. Norm carried me bridal style into the facility first, opening a link bed and settling me in it before rushing to the other side of the facility to grab some things. Returning with pillows, a blanket and medical bag as Jake and Grace entered the facility.

“We’re gonna hook up this side of the building. Norm you’re up!” Grace called to him as he draped the blanket over my body. Jake wheeled over to my side as Grace helped Norm into the other link bed.

“You're gonna be okay,” Jake reassured, taking my slightly cold hand.

“Tommy?” I mumbled. Jake’s expression shifted into sadness, hearing his brother’s name again. He wheeled right up next to the link bed, laying a gentle hand on the side of my face. He ran his rough thumb over my cheek, leaning to kiss my forehead.

“Yeah?” He leant closer to my ear.

“I love you Tommy…. Tell Lyle… I love him too,” I whispered back. Jake frowned confused as to why I was saying that. The sudden jolting of the facility interrupted the moment, Jake looked away for just a moment. My eyelid felt heavier, taking a small breath I couldn't feel the warmth of my body. At that moment, everything turned white. Jakes voice echoed as I fade, yelling for Grace. She ran to my side as I caught one last tiny glimpse of her.

I was walking down the familiar hallway of the training facility on earth. It looked the same from the many times I walked through them. Coming to a door, I peered through the glass window. Seeing a familiar back that I always saw I pushed open the door, alerting them of my presence. He turned and smiled at me. Opening his arms, I rushed to him, knocking the two of us onto the floor.

“Tommy,” I breathed out, my eyes leaking happy tears.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he whispered, kissing my head.

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy,” I repeated like a mantra.

“My (Y/N),” he kissed my head again and again and again.

“I missed you so much.”

“I miss you too. I love you,” he wrapped his arms tighter around my waist.

“I'm sorry,” I said.

“Sorry for what baby?”

“I'm sorry I left you alone on earth. I'm sorry I didn't get to say a final goodbye,” he nestled my face into the crook of his neck.

“Baby, No. I should be apologising. I promised you that I’d be beside you on Pandora. I broke that promise,” Tommy softly spoke, “I'm sorry I couldn't keep that promise. But I’ll always be with you. In here,” he brushed my hair to the side, pointing two fingers at my head, “and here,” lowering his hand to my heart.

He sat the two of us up, lifting me to stand.

“I'm glad you got to meet my brother, even if he’s a bit of an ass. And I know it must have been harder to move on, but I'm glad you did,” he leaned his forehead down onto mine, “You can’t stay. It's not your time yet.”

A hand tugged at my shirt. I turned to find Anuk there.

“Anuk,” I muttered.

“Hello sister, I see you,” he greeted. In an instant Tommy was no longer in my arms.

“Hello Anuk, I see you,” I returned his greeting, “It's been a long time.”

“Yes, it's been too long. Yet, it is not yet your time. The great mother sends her kind regards, but she wants you to live. Our great mother has plans for you,” Anuk spoke.

“But, I am not Na’vi.”

“Oh, my sister. You are not yet Na’vi. But you are Omatikaya. You always have been. Our great mother has accepted you as one of her own, for your sacrifice to our people. She sees all you’ve done. As well as your faults and strengths. It's time to join our people,” Anuk took my hand, guiding me back into the hall. Suddenly it felt like we were being pushed forward as the view of the Tree of Souls came into view. It's pink tendrils lighting up the dark sky as Na’vi sat with hands on each other's shoulders all moving together and chanting out loud. In a blink I was standing closer to the Tree of Souls. I could see my naked human body and my heavily wounded but surviving avatar laying in front of the Tree of Souls, the two bodies wrapped in white root like tendrils. Mo’at chanting above me. Turning to my right was Grace, Jake and Neytiri all watching in anticipation.

“What's going on?” I questioned in awe, turning to Mo'at, her white eyes meeting mine as she silenced down, though the chanting behind me continued.

“My child, you have been blessed by Eywa,” She spoke directly at me, even though both my bodies were at her feet. Jake, Neytiri and Grace looked in my direction with confused expressions, it was like only Mo’at could see me. “She has granted you a second life, it is not yet your time to leave. Come,” she reached her hand out to me though I was reluctant to reach to her. I felt a warm hand grab mine, turning to see Tommy again.

“It's okay, take it,” he assured, giving a soft smile, “I’ll always be by your side.”

“Take it sister. Take it,” Anuk gave the same reassuring smile, they both guided my hand to Mo’at and an overwhelming sense of warmth flowed through my body. The white light overwhelmed my senses.

I slowly opened my honey yellow eyes. My ears twitched at the quieting chanting. Mo’at leaned in, blocking the pink and purple hues of the majestic tree. My tail twitched a little at her sudden appearance. The white root like tendrils fading and retracted into the dirt.

“(Y/N)?” Jake called out hesitantly. My ear twitched again. My nose twitched at the scent of ash. Slowly I began to move my arm as their light gasps alerted everyone. They knelt down next to me as I fully opened my eyes, shifting around to look at Jake, Grace and Neytiri.

“Oh, thank Eywa!” Grace breathed out a huge sigh of relief.

Mo’at smiled widely before letting out a joyous yell, letting the people know of the success. My body ached but I was alive.

“Urgh, why do I feel like I was hit by a truck?” my mouth was dry as I coughed out, to which Jake chuckled. The three of them gently sat me up as the rest of the clan began to disperse. I looked down at my naked blue body, covering my blue boobs with my arm as Jake’s eyes drifted down a bit.

“Perv,” I lightly punched his shoulder. Looking around at where I am, my eyes settled on Tsu’tey who gave a relieved, but sad smile. “What happened to me? Well, not human me, I know what happened there.”

“Tsu’tey got you out on his ikran. Your avatar was still unconscious in Hometree when it got obliterated, but Tsu’tey found you and grabbed your body. He thought you were dead, but he saved you,” Jake explained. I turned to look at Tsu’tey again, he was standing a distance away, apprehensive to approach.

“Tsu’tey,” I called his name, reaching my hand out. He slowly came closer, taking my hand.

“Tsumuke. Oel ngati kameie,” he wrapped his arms around my shoulders bringing me into his gentle embrace, “I thought you wouldn't make it.” His voice breaking a little, “I thought I lost you, like I lost Sylwanin. Don't ever do that again,” he said in a stern but joking tone.

“Tsu'tey, I will be by your side. Even if I died. Sylwanin will always be next to you. Just like Anuk,” I pulled back from his hug, turning to Jake, “Just like Tommy.” Jake’s ear flicked a bit.

“What?”

“I saw him, when I was dying. He said that he was glad we met, even though you’re a bit of an ass,” I smirked, remembering his words, “But he’ll always be here,” I gently pointed to his head, “and here,” I pointed to his heart. Jake’s eyes welled up with tears. He knew what he had to do and with the permission of the new Olo’eyktan, Tsu’tey, he made a great speech. To call for aid for the upcoming war. The war between the sky people and the Na’vi.

“Go get ‘em tiger!” I shot him a proud smile. They took off there and then, as daybreak came. Those with ikrans followed after, spreading the news.

Final chapter!

Taglist: @sleepilysworld @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @wolfmoon8269 @howlerwolfmax @lovekeeho @ducks118 @dyingofcookies @secretflowerobservation

#avatar #avatar x reader #avatar x you #avatar x y/n #avatar x human reader #jake sully #jake sully x reader #avatar x na'vi reader #avatar fanfiction #avatar fanfic #avatar wainfleet #wainfleet x reader #wainfleet fanfic #wainfleet fanfiction

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total-drama-takes · 1 year

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Sha-mod!!! you better stick to what u said to the crackshipping anon (who is incidentally me). Come up with a never before heard tee dee crack ship and justify it. bonus points if it’s super weird

this has been in my inbox for a hot minute and ive put off answering because i cant think of a ship thats weird enough lmao

im gonna go with noah x staci because she'd bring up her made up relative's achievements and he'd be like "ummm Actually *thing* was invented in *year* by *name*. lying isnt a good look lol" and it would happen so many times that she would have to admit that she lies to overcompensate for her own lack of accomplishments and he'd be like "doing things is overrated idgaf" and she'd be like "r-really owo?" and then they canoodle or whatever

#bonus points for being a noah ship yall eat those up #total drama #td #td noah #td staci #ask

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headphonemouse · 2 years

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throwback to "tiny kohaku carrying something heavy" 😆

you may have noticed that ive only been coloring small doodles but actually there is a really good reason for that and it is that im too scared to try the bigger drawings jdhdjdfkd😭

awww the little heart

I appreciate the little doodle colorings! I don't put much thought into them, so seeing them refined like this is like watching a seed you planted sprout. I think i've mentioned that before.

You don't have to do anything scary, I don't like doing scary things either. But for coloring at least, the original drawing will always exist so it's not like you can mess it up. I do that all the time too. When I want to try something new but don't know how, I'll just save a copy from a point in time where I can be satisfied with it, and then play around with what i can do. I have some examples that i've saved

This is when I was trying to figure out how to add different layers to hair. I usually stop at flat colors, so I saved it at flat colors, and then I went on

For this one I wasn't sure which cropped version would look the best, so I saved them all along with the original

I even tried moving the bamboo so that it would be behind him so I could make a skinnier cropped version but that didn't work out

shit I deleted the live file for the canoodling because I thought it was embarrassing to have in my digital sketchbook BUT IT'S IN MY FILES??? YOU CAN SEE IT FROM THE LITTLE PREVIEW. THERE'S LITTLE NAKED PEOPLE THERE

anyways WAIT WHAT THE FUCK I NEVER POSTED THIS IT'S A COLORING OF THIS LOOK PETER I COLOR STUFF TOO AND NEVER POST THEM AND THEN FORGET ABOUT THEM

ahem. in conclusion. you don't have to do scary things. But if you try doing scary things, no one has to know you tried it. Schrodinger's art progress.

#coloring book #megacarapa #thank you for the tsukakoha jfsdknlrneo #emperor ageism #speedy gorilla

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mrmonkeyandbow · 1 year

Text

TW: self harm, a little bit of smut (little to no description)

ROUGH DRAFT!!! NO EDITS YET!!!!!

Solitaire-after the books ends

Once we get to the hospital I am holding Michaels hand tight. I don't let go. He even comes to my hospital room with me when they do all the tests. Once we are alone he starts to talk.

“Tori?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we going to talk about it or just let it be an elephant in the room?”

“Oh..” i say in a tone i can't quite recognize “yeah”

“Ive been wanting to do that for a while, but i didnt know if you felt the same way. I really do love you and if your okay with it��” he pauses, witch makes me nervous. “I was…” “I want…” “could we…” he is deliberating between what to say, it takes him five minutes to spit it out. No joke. “If its okay with you, would you be my girlfriend. I know this isnt the best timeing, but i really care about you and love you and I really do want to be more than friends.”

I look at him, not knowing what to say. Thats a lie, i want to say yes. I want to say yes one thousand times. But instead i just tell him to come on my bed (hospital bed) and start to kiss him. We kiss even more passionately after a minute or two. My hands holding his face, and running them through his curly, short hair. And him, wrapping his legs arround me. I remember that we are in a hospital, and why we are there. But i dont care. All i care about is the boy i love. Grasping me tight. Feeling like for once i want to keep living. I want this to never end. Charlie comes in and we both jump back. This is not how i wanted to tell my brother that i had a boyfriend. It felt good to even think that i had a boyfriend.

“Charlie!” i say with a bit of anger in my voice. Charlie had just come in the room, and i heard the door open. “You could at least knock!”

“Well im sorry but i didnt think that you would be here canoodling with your…” he pauses for a second.

“Boyfriend” i say with a stern tone in my voice. I look over at Michael and he’s bright red. “Now go”

He turns and leaves. Michael still holding me tight

{~*at home that night*~}

Michael didnt leave me throughout the entire trip at the hospital, or the ride home. Mom and dad decided it was best if he slept over, just to keep a eye on me. Just like nick did with charlie that one time. Its a little bit weird because they dont know what we are dating. Michael and I get a bed ready for him together, even though we know we arent going to use it. Just to trick my parents, they are super strict about this stuff. I get into my pjs and so does Michael. We start talking in bed. Not for long but once we start to get ready to actually go to bed, i turn the other way. Suddenly i feel a arm around me, hugging me close. I start to blush, and i hold his hand. We start to sleep around 3, a usual time for me, so im okay with it. The next thing i know im awake, next to Michael. For once when i wake up, im glad i woke up. Im happy seing his face. I think if he where awake then i wouldnt of started to play with his hair, but i do. Its so curly and theres no gell in it, for understandable reasons. I like it like this. Free. Michael looks at me, when he opens his eyes. I pull my hand back, embarrassed. We both chuckle.

“Whatcha doing?” he chuckles

“You already know!” i say while my face turns pink

“I dont mind, i like it.” he says while he starts to play with my hair.

Suddenly i feel the urge to kiss him. I dont know why. i learned my leson yesterday with people walking in. so i get up and lock the door. I think he can tell where this is going. I get back in bed, looking at him while he is looking at me. I start to blush. Blush so hard, i start to get embarrassed.

“I hate you” i wisper under my breath while slightly chuckling

“I love you too tori spring.” he whispers through his breath as he leans in for a kiss.

We start to kiss, more and more. He is rubbing his hand up and down my back, as im doing the same to him. I notice he starts to rub a little lower, over my hips and i start to chuckle. The next hour or two is not PG. after im lying my head on his chest, moving my finger ever so slightly up and down. Someone knocks on the door, i know its charlie because he starts talking. “Tori? Are you in there?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit” i say under my breath, as MIchael looks at me.

He quickly goes into the bathroom as im putting my dressing gown on. I unlock my door and he comes in.

“Can you drive me round nicks? I would walk but its raining”

“Can’t.”

Charlie looks arround “dosnt look like your doing much.”

“You can walk, use a umbrella.”

He walks out, visibly annoyed. I tell Michael its safe to come out of the bathroom.

#michael holden #tori spring #solitare

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animeniac · 6 years

Text

Day 0: First Time

Covering his face Showing much disgrace Teachers often told him Not everything's a race

She turned around in bed Who's running through her head? Iida? Shouto? Deku? Who? She'd be with them instead? Their future looked so bleak His knees became so weak

Trophies of a victor dulled His achievements all annulled He couldn't last a minute long His pride his bark all felt so wrong A man? Not him. No longer he. Her lack of pleasure. He'd only see.

"Love is the point, and I really am glad "Katsuki, you better not feel so bad. "We waited. We did it and it felt really good. "That's all that mattered. And it's all that should." Words could not fulfill his debt His healing - she'd forever beget He kissed her on her fuschia cheeks He loved the way she looks and speaks His pride renewed in their night of sin He smirked then said, "Let's try it again."

#kacchako #kacchakosmutfest #bnha #bakugou katsuki #uraraka ochako #i figured id get this out the way #he finishes too fast #implied canoodling #im not a poet #but ive been writing poetry for years

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heli0s-writes · 3 years

Text

IV. Symbiosis

Summary: “Since you’ve been caught—” Fury squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries. Petty theft. Grand larceny. The damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

A/N: 4.8k words. I’m a liar who lies because after 4 months of overthinking and coming up with diddly squat, here is part 4 of Trinity Epoch sans smut. I’m sorry! I’ll double your pleasure next time. xx Thank you for sticking with me, I’m so sorry it’s taken so long.

Warnings: Language. References to canon-typical violence.

Trinity Epoch Masterpost

Bucky stays like that a while longer, just breathing.

Your fingers trace his hair—running through the strands, over the shell of his ear, then resting briefly on his cheek. All the ways you used to with Natasha when she’d break her own heart, or maybe ways you would have liked her to have done for you when you felt like you were dying a little bit.

You feel it now: a small death in the wake of last night’s simple touches. Your body and Steve’s body curled around each other sprung something immeasurable, as if the drift flowered then and ripened beneath your skins. You bit into it. You savored its taste. You could have lived on it alone.

Everything smears together like a child’s careless hand in a mess of paints until all the brights muddle dark. A shaky breath as you work yourself into calming, trying to find coherent words while your head remains a pot of sideways soup, at best.

Bucky shifts until he’s looking up at you, nose millimeters away. His irises are just a touch more gray, a sprinkle less green. You can see Steve in him, just as he can see Steve in you and then your eyes begin to prickle, Nat’s face undulating behind the burn.

You don’t really know what you want to say. Maybe apologize, run, beg for forgiveness, grab Bucky by the shoulders and shake him until he understands that you didn’t mean it— you didn’t mean to hurt him. That you love him. That he lives inside you, too.

His ghost from the drift— the aftermath phenomena of the neural bridge when pilots take on a bit of each other’s consciousness out of the cockpit and into the world with them. Take two people with a predisposition for the drift into the cockpit into each other’s brains and they exit heightened—sharper, better—imbued with each other’s strengths and knowledge. Mind-meld long enough, deep enough, and your core endures, but you become a different beast.

When Steve’s consciousness bled into yours, so did Bucky’s. If you walked away with half of Rogers, you also got a quarter of Barnes and it only compounded worse during Polidori’s drop. Resurrecting trauma, agitating itself, making a mess of your weary soul.

You relived his amputation last night, just as fresh as you relived Nat’s death. More visceral than the first trial run, you witnessed him—felt him—torn and hoarse, clutching his shoulder as he rocked helplessly inside Orion’s chest, frayed wires sparking across his cheek and landing in his own blood. His teeth gnashing together as he tried to hold on for Steve’s sake, steering his co-pilot’s panic back on course. Terrified and agonized, but he was hellbent on making it out.

Bucky who made you laugh. Bucky who took you to dinner. Who walked with you, gave you his jacket, listened to your rambling and crying, and kissed you because you reminded him of his co-pilot, or maybe of himself.

How could you not love him, after all this?

Armageddon slows for nothing though, and before the first letter of his name can fall out recklessly from your mouth, three precise thumps jostles it back in.

Steve’s voice is muffled through heavy steel. “You in there?”

The door slides open with a tremulous croak but neither of you bother to separate. Nothing seems to matter now.

“Buck...” Steve looks from one raw face to the other, stepping forward and reaching out. He grasps Bucky’s hand. “We should talk—” he closes his mouth into a thin line, shoulders slumping heavily before letting go. “I’m sorry. Later. Shit’s hit the fan.”

The office is stagnant air full of questions but other than the squeak of the marshal leaning back in his chair, nobody makes a sound.

Fury untucks a finger from the crook of his elbow before pointing it between your eyes.

“Culpability.”

Across the room, you flinch in his crosshairs. Standing apart from them, you’re partially slack against one of many steel filing cabinets, using it to prop yourself up in case your knees might give out as vertigo descends.

It’s been a lot to take in. Everything— the night, the morning, emotionally, mentally, physically. The hull is a steel cage, and pilots are well armored, but you’re still hooked up to the robot enduring damage, taking hits at barely .0001 percent, but taking it all the same. You’re bruised up good beneath your clothes— Polidori’s claws leaving four tender imprints of a scratch to Orion’s right shoulder. Your shoulder. Steve’s shoulder.

To your right, he shifts. A tiny hint of pain streaks over his expression before it falls serene again, fixed on Fury.

“Since you’ve been caught—” the marshal squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries, petty theft, grand larceny, the damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

This thing, being any story a 13-year old kid with two thumbs and a twitter account can spin between now and when you let Pepper Potts spin it for you first. There’s not a lot imagination can’t conjure to fill in the blank pixelated space between Bucky standing on the curb and you right behind him wearing his cap and jacket. Not to mention that once speculation goes live, it starts sprouting all sorts of appendages with minds of their own, and no matter how diligently you might cut one off, two would only sprout in its place.

The marshal stands up and takes heavy steps before turning the corner of his desk, absently tapping a pile of folders together like they’re not already in a perfect column. He slips a manila folder out from the stack and it becomes obvious that his suggestion is just buildup to some other type of impetus.

When you open the file up under his sharp gaze, you feel the blood drain from your face and possibly from your entire body.

The bullet he aimed between your eyes hits home. Cue your brains blowing out slow. Impetus met.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky appears over your shoulder, staring at the same grainy photocopied document. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I make a lot of jokes?” Fury leans forward, pointer curving over the top edge, tapping emphatically one, two, three times, even waving it back and forth in front of your unseeing eyes. “I’ve got a good contact inside the PPDC who risked a lot to get this out. They’re just plans for now, dogeared behind other pages, but don’t doubt the Corps’ cowardice for a second. The second this program looks like it might not hold up, they’ll turn their efforts there.”

You’re gone. Trapped between the lines, vehemently scanning the page, reading the same words over and over until they no longer make sense. But it’s not like they made any sense in the first place.

ANTI-KAIJU WALL: CONSTRUCTION AGENDA. SPRING 2020.

The conception of a perimeter stretching around the Pan Pacific—North and Central America, East and South Asia to isolate emerging Kaiju. It’s a fetal skeleton at most, the roughest of outlines for a plan, and truthfully, it’s no plan at all.

It’s shameful. It’s shit.

The so-called Wall of Life implies the portending death of the Program—of all Shatterdomes and Jaegers. It implies no support, no funding, and no repairs. No Kodiak. No juniors. No future.

Back and forth, you’re still desperately inspecting as if the words might shift into a new message, maybe one that didn’t spell out certain extinction, but despair is rippling across your face. Bi Fang and Polidori had wings, and they were only Category II. Bi Fang massacred one of the best pilots you’ve ever known—and it was only a Category II. Any higher and they’d blow through that wall like a ribbon of wet toilet paper.

Hysteria creeps up at the mere thought of it, fear stubbornly lodging itself in your throat. Nuclear-powered automata—the only proven defense against the terror of massive alien attacks are being dismantled in favor of steel rods and cinderblocks. They might as well build it out of Legos.

Anti-Kaiju Wall. A string of ants meeting a boot.

You’re panting softly, tongue swollen in your mouth, shaking with equal parts terror and rage, on the verge of breaking into inappropriate laughter and yelling.

“What—what do they expect?” You croak, “The breach opens, the fucking thing comes out, sees a fence, and what—they think it’s—going to crawl back in…?”

“Hey, calm down,” Bucky curls his fingers around your elbow. His hand and its black plates are peering at you, purring, dull gold bands threading at the knuckles. For a second, the prosthetic disappears. For a second, he’s blood red again.

“Hey!” Bucky grips tightly when you sway. “I’m fine! Don’t—don’t.” Steve’s jaw is set firmly on your other side, arms crossed so severely his biceps bulge with the strain.

“Nick,” He’s abruptly brusque as he eases the file from your grip. “Give us a minute.”

“You’re in my office.” But the marshal’s words hold no bite. He’s already won; he knows. Cornered again, he’s got you same as before in Red Cloud.

You get the gist: play out your redemption arc and come clean with your record. Win over the public, hoard all the additional support and funding you can because you’ll need every goddamn cent of it when the PPDC rips it away. The gossip. The photos. The headlines. It’s the perfect opportunity for a few hundred million when the media is putting a magnifying glass on your presence in Hong Kong.

Duty. Duty. Duty.

You’re just one small part of this colossal puzzle—a negligible smear of guts across the battlefield trying to keep the rest of the pieces together while the PPDC sits in their panic rooms throttling the entire fucking thing.

Fury steps to the cabinet and slides the file back in its place, keeping the illusion of it being just another unremarkable envelope in a row of hundreds of others. The metal drawer shuts with a clang, housing the most damning piece of information you’ve ever seen. His tact aside, you know he would never show you his hand like this if it wasn’t completely necessary—or pertinent.

Steve was right, you understand now.

The world owes you. And it owns you.

The next six—seven?—hours scatter like pulled teeth with your head spinning like a top the entire way. Pepper had been outside the door for the conversation, waiting on standby to whisk you off for princess lessons. Having already (and correctly) predicted your compliance, Fury scheduled an interview for precisely at nine. Then you were off, towed along by Miss Potts and her hasty strut.

You try to find perspective, reminding yourself that you’ve successfully gone toe-to-toe with the Empire State Building with fifteen rows of teeth seven fucking times and come out on the other side alive and if not in one whole piece, then at least 2-3 relatively serviceable pieces. You’re functional. A little damaged, but fine enough. But there’s also the fact that you’d just hopped out of Orion not even 24 hours ago coupled with how you’re suddenly in the middle of something that feels less like a confused love triangle and more like divine providence at the end of the world.

Fuck. No time to think about it now. The human brain is not programmed to multitask, and you’re hanging on by a mere thread. You prioritize making it through the night just as alive as you can make it out of a drop. Just a couple of hours and you can rest. Just a couple more.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of simulating Q&A, practicing your posture, smiling into a mirror, and one horrible limo ride where you stared dead-eyed out the window—Steve and Bucky’s steely gazes after you—the building finally comes into view.

Hair. Makeup. Wardrobe. You wear pants. You smile for the camera. You don’t stand in the middle of the group photo.

8:55 and time halts to a near stop. You can hear your heart in your throat, or in your skull. Your eyes feel switched from their sockets, or stomach rotated 30 degrees. Someone fixes your mic wire, your blouse collar, asking you to turn just a little over there. Three cameras are pointed to capture every angle, punitive red dots angry and glaring.

A live broadcast was agreed upon to ensure the least amount of potential edits and skews, as well as the charmingly quaint idea that it’s unscripted. The rub, therein, lies upon the burden of poise and a flawless performance. You rehearsed lines until your jaw felt like it was coming unhinged. Then you did it again.

Everything requires precision, and you keep that in mind with your hand on the glass of Dom Perignon being constantly refilled. An amicable gesture by the hosts, but their intentions are cunning: loose lips sink ships, and they’re betting on yours to sink the S.S. Orion Bravo.

Out of view, the translator sits with her legs crossed, listening to the questions before turning the words over in English.

You take a sip of champagne and it fires off like a gunshot—Cantonese and English in rapid-fire verses.

<2017 was a fateful year for both the Jaeger Program and the world. Beloved pilot Natasha Romanoff sacrificed her life to protect Alaska’s coast in a final battle against Category 2 Bi Fang. Memorials dedicated to Romanoff’s efforts appeared across every nation to lament her death and celebrate her heroism. Yet, somehow, no one seemed to be asking the million-dollar question: Where is her co-pilot?>

The host’s open hand urges your reply.

The lights seem to turn up even brighter. Your back starts sweating. The room is about to collapse. In short, naturally—infuriatingly—you choke.

Seven hours of droning like a broken wind up toy, already knowing how to answer this question by heart, prepping yourself for the interrogation, the relentless demand to publicize your grief, to placate the people about your relationship with their heroes—and, you choke.

Bucky’s chin tilts microscopically in the corner of your line of vision. You’re fine, he’s saying, you got it. He’s strangely calm, even pleased, as you stutter involuntarily. Like he’s the first to remember an inside joke you’d long forgotten, his grin widens the longer you look at him. Steve turns next. Focus. Don’t fight the drift. The drift is silence.

And suddenly, your shoulders ease. The static in your exhausted brain slides out of your ears.

You sit up tall. You smile. It doesn’t quite feel like your smile, but, it’s a good one. You know this smile; it’s Steve’s smile. Like a seamless assembly, you fall into rhythm.

The white of his teeth slip out from between Steve’s lips. He notices too.

You calmly recite the introductory speech you’d been practicing for the last two hours, feeling out your new voice, borrowing from his bearing—deeper, smoother, certain. The major points get run through: your record and own personality traits keeping you from the spotlight, admitting genuinely that you’re pretty damn uncomfortable now, so they’ll have to forgive you for any slip ups. It goes over well, as Pepper predicted; “candid” blunders made Rangers human—made them likable.

When the subject of Anchorage rolls back around, you can practically feel Steve’s jaw bulging preemptively. You graze his foot with yours as a warning to back off.

<It’s remarkable that you were able to bring the Jaeger back to shore, there has been only one pilot who was capable of that—>

“I’m thankful to have had Stacker Pentecost as my mentor. I owe so much of my resilience to him. It was difficult, but simply put, I had no other choice. I feel so lucky to have survived it.”

“She was one of a kind.”

“Yes.”

The host clears his throat, visibly awkward that you’re being so terse, but taking the hint until Bucky turns into the spotlight, that divorced happiness he’s so skilled at beaming into the lenses.

Steve easily picks it up, steering the conversation where he wants it to go. He’s disarmingly sincere as he relays the process of Bucky’s injury, replacement, apprehension, and finally success

His bright blue eyes flicker secret messages and you decipher them all.

“The connection was like—"

There’s a bell chiming in your ears. Bright, crisp chirps of it, cutting through laughter and bickering. You taste summer air in your throat, Bucky’s hair flying in the wind. “Riding a bike…”

“Exactly. New bike, same motions, and it worked. It was great. We learned things about each other. Some good, some bad—”

Crosshatched pencil lines of their shared apartment. Smudges of charcoal in a sketchbook. “He’s an unbelievable artist, but—”

“No— don’t say it!”

Bucky smothering a small kitchen fire. Steve throwing a damp rag on him in a frantic attempt to assist. Your voice is bubbling out gleefully. “—an awful cook!”

“It’s true,” Bucky smugly chimes in. “The boy can’t boil water. Breakfast eggs come with shells every time.” You can taste the grit between your molars—crushed grains inside an overdone omelet, Bucky spitting out spinach and feta cheese.

“Oh my god,” you sputter into a sip of champagne. “It’s so bad.”

“Do you see what I have to deal with? Two people knowing my secrets. Two.”

<Fantastic! Already we can see a great friendship here—>

It seems congratulatory, but there’s determination to drive into scandalous territory, poking at any rumor to lance and leak. A sly smile crosses his face as his assistant shows photos of you and Bucky in the city, but the lurid suggestion only gets shrugged off. “We’d gone out for dinner. It was the first time I’d left the Shatterdome after Seigehook and I needed moral support.”

“I’d give you my jacket if you looked cold.”

<Steve, Ophelia isn’t concerned that your new co-pilot is a woman?>

“No, absolutely not. ‘Lia’s the first person to support Orion—and the loudest. I don’t know what I’d do without her. You don’t have her behind the curtain, too, do you?”

<Well, what about personal memories? Won’t you know everything about each other…? Private things?>

“Sure, but what pair of pilots don’t? You got twins and siblings, not just married couples. Look, here’s the thing: the neural bridge doesn’t take you to a filing cabinet. It’s not open like that. It’s more like—somebody help me—” Bucky snaps his fingers your way, “—what’d you call it the other day?”

You didn’t, but you say, “A dream?”

“Right, a dream. If you think about it, you can pull on it, but if it’s not in the forefront of your mind. It’s a non-issue.”

“We’re all adults here,” Steve confirms.

Steve’s palm faces outward as if keeping the host at bay— or, you think, keeping himself at bay. “Hold on. This isn’t about replacement. Nobody is framing it like a nail in the coffin—we’re in the interim of a period of time, readjusting. Short of death, nothing is going to take him away.”

Sunlight. Recruitment. Ice baths. Training until they had to carry each other to bed. Your eyes flutter, head pilfering through the memories like instinct.

“James is still Orion’s co-pilot.” You agree. Apprehension. Dread. Terror. Confidence in each other even when they didn’t believe in themselves. They were together. Nothing else mattered. “Steve’s co-pilot.”

The tight look on his face is temporarily wiped as he beams proudly, “He’s my Bucky. Always has been, always will be.” He claps Bucky on the back twice and each thump’s echo bounces its way into your chest.

Bucky bristles and sputters, but a healthy pink dusts its way across his cheeks, “Don’t embarrass me, Rogers.”

“Are you blushing?” You tease, elated.

“Don’t you start, either.”

<Well… this is very wonderful. Is there a possibility we’ll be seeing a triple-piloted machine? The Tang triplets have been in talks for a new model.>

Steve shakes his head. “We haven’t discussed it yet. Nothing’s off the table, by any means. Just not priority at the moment.”

“Normalcy, as much as we can get in the middle of all this.” Bucky holds out his hand, closing it into a fist, letting the camera zoom in. “We’re… still working through all the kinks, balancing the personal and global.”

He flexes his fingers, letting the microphones pick up the drone of machinery, but his meaning is another secret. Clicking Morse codes of well-oiled obsidian plates purring two names. You’ve stopped listening to everything but the echo incandescent in your heart.

You down your glass.

Champagne tipsy, you try not to stagger through the lobby. The doorman nods toward the limousine parked faithfully by the curb.

The barrage of questions slowed after it became apparent that there would be no sensationalist headline. There was attention to Bucky’s arm, his handsome face, of course, before the banter quickly devolved into entertaining frivolous sidebar queries. Five flutes bubbled down your throat and by the end of it, you no longer wanted to grab camera one and shake the shit out of it, anger whittled down to a dull hum of annoyance.

Thirty million stupid dollars for inane reels of:

What’s in your purse? What do you eat? How do you stay feminine in a Shatterdome full of testosterone—have you tried any K-beauty skincare routines? Do you have anyone special in your life?

Bucky went in, then, leaning forward until he was nearly rocking off and leveled his glare. You know she’s on the other side of the same robot, buckled up into a ninety-pound rig steering two-hundred tons of—

It took a miracle (see: Steve’s firm hand discreetly on the back of Bucky’s neck and Pepper drawing a sharp line across her throat) to effectively halt the derailing train.

“I can’t believe,” Bucky grouses now, opening the door and waving the driver back to the front. “Those goddamn questions.”

“Does wiping my sweaty face with my even sweatier shirt count as skincare? What’s the K stand for?”

Bucky smacks the back of your head with one hand, other clumsily yanking the door open with the other. “For Korean—have you been living under a rock? Just—get in the fuckin’ car.”

You slap him back. “Quit it, you invalid.”

“Invalid? I’ll show you a fuckin’—Steve, did you hear—”

“Both of you, get in the car.”

And you shriek, scrambling in and yanking Bucky along by the scruff of his jacket. Mischief courses beneath your skin, encouraged by clever alcohol, now fully buzzed its way to every extremity.

Still giggling and leaning into the thrill of it, you slump over the smooth plastic molding of the door and press your face against the tinted window. It’s a cool reprieve on your warmed cheek, frosting when your temperature meet the glass. Bucky’s easy Cantonese, albeit slurred, is requesting a ride back to base. His hand has found its way into yours, fingers laced large and warm, clasping tight before he lets go.

“Haven’t had a drink—oh--” you murmur, catching yourself as the wheels shift.

“Since Red Cloud.”

“Outta my head, Rogers.”

“Says the person who kept finishing my sentences during that interview.”

“It’s the champagne! It makes me—“

“Stupid?”

“You’re an ass, Barnes.” But you’re laughing at him, at the way he’s smirking— cheeks gone ruddy. Both of them, open beside each other, heads inclined intuitively together. It makes you ache to see—to experience again after disruption—Rogers and Barnes. Barnes and Rogers. Perfectly fitted.

The partition slides up. The sunroof tugs open with a whistling draft.

Hong Kong’s lights are vivid—too much to properly see the extent of space’s beauty, but there are a few twinkles you’re able to make out in the moonless night as light poles and skyscraper tips whiz overhead. They’re brighter than most, simple to spot patterns in the dark.

“Orion’s out tonight,” you mutter, moving to catch the line of its belt, “Look. Beneath his feet is Lepus, the hare, pursued for all time.” From across, Steve follows, also looking to find their hero as your hair rustles wildly, making a hurricane against your ear.

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic,” Bucky scolds. He’s annoyed and comfortable on leather, ankle crossed over opposite knee. “You’re not being chased by anything. Besides, if you were a constellation, you’d probably be the soup ladle.”

You laugh. He’s always playing the part of a stoic so well. “Hey, I’ll have you know the Little Dipper’s got the north star in it. That soup ladle’s gonna be the thing that gets you home when you’re lost.”

The tone shifts—time dragging its pace as you look at them in wonder. The city’s overripe heaviness of the blows through, making goosebumps on heated skin.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky slips his jacket from his shoulders to slide over yours. He tugs the lapels down like he’s trying to keep you on earth and your hands clasp on his wrists for a second before you let go. They’re both sitting up now, watching your bleary gaze unfocus.

Steve and Bucky oscillate in front of your eyes, their lines blurring until it doesn’t really matter who you’re looking at—until they become one. So easy, like this, just them like two sides of the same coin, belonging so seamlessly to each other.

“Sorry,” you blurt in shame, “I feel like I fucked it up. Ruined a thing that wasn’t mine to ruin.”

“Think you put it together,” Steve responds quietly, and the simplicity of his statement throws you off. “We found our way.”

“Soup ladle,” Bucky jokes.

“But, aren’t we just trading one war for another? World peace only made it because of monsters.” Unspoken questions hidden inside large-scale metaphors— symbiosis could only be achieved under the lies of other relationships. Whatever this would be, it wouldn’t be accepted. Steve still retains his supermodel girlfriend and you and Bucky dutifully fall in line for your own packaged little PR lies.

He shrugs. “I’m fine with losing a few battles in this war, but Orion’s got a good track record, doesn’t it, Buck?”

“Twelve— thirteen kills, sweetheart.” Bucky’s grin is lopsided. “Don’t forget you made that happen.”

“Thirteen’s an unlucky number.”

“Feels lucky to me.” Steve’s hand wraps around your wrist, thumb resting on your pulse. He taps your skin, looking genuinely apologetic. “Listen, all I can do is ask— and I’m not good at asking for things. I just want to make them happen.” A quick glance at the watch under his cuffs and he tugs at your arm like a lost child, “So, before we get back… will you come here?”

As he said, he’s not really asking. More like reaching his will out to you, finding you when you’re caught in the undertow and pulling you back to safety. To them. Okay. Okay.

Your footing slips, but they take your hands and turn you carefully, letting you settle in between. Bucky hums a low sound, fingers curling around your waist. Steve does the same to the opposite side and you feel both torn apart and held together by them.

Steve nuzzles your neck, hot on your skin.

“She was wrong,” he whispers, barely audible over the sound of your rising breath, “You know that? She was wrong, and I was wrong. I thought it couldn’t happen—thought I had other priorities, other things to manage and settle and save and... I lost sight of what matters most. But I’m gonna really fix it this time—I’m gonna do it right by you.”

He looks to Bucky, pained and relieved, “Both of you, I promise.” He takes Bucky’s hand in his own and holds it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, his palm, saying softly, “I love you, Buck. I’m sorry you waited so long.”

“Hey stupid,” Bucky says shakily when your chin starts to quiver at the sight of them. He’s sniffling and swallowing his syllables, unable to stop himself from staring at Steve’s face in his hand, how Steve kisses the blue pulse in his wrist. “Ain’t you—too pretty to cry?”

The rocking of the car flattens out as Steve gently presses his lips to yours, letting the trail of salt bursting down your cheek into his mouth. He moves to the line of your jaw, promising,

It’s okay. I got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you anymore.

They kiss you and the world turns itself right.

They kiss you and then they kiss each other. Again and again and again.

#marvel #stucky #stucky x reader #pacific rim au #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #fanfiction #reader insert #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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princessanneftw · 5 years

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How did Anne and Mark Philips fall in love? Since he turns out to be a jerk people don't talk about their love stories any more. Did Anne had any other boyfriends before him, besides Andrew Parker-Bowles? What is his relationship with the rest of the royal family like before and after they got married? I read somewhere that Charles thought he is not good enough for Anne(Which is true).

WELL

They first met at a party in 1968 but actually had to be reminded of this a few years later after they’d gotten to know each other. Their paths crossed again and again because of equestrian events. Not only competitions, but parties and dances that they would attend with mutual friends. It wasn’t love st first sight or anything. They were friends first, got to know each other pretty well, started dating and slowly fell in love. And they really were mad about each other at the start. Once they started dating, they tried to keep it a secret but the press were already hot on the scent since they were always together at three day events. After that, they had no privacy. Anne would be seen driving to Great Somerford to spend weekends at the Phillips’s house, it was reported that Mark was invited to Sandringham and Balmoral, they were pictured kissing before he left to do a tour with the army, and so on. They completely denied that they were together though, right up until a few weeks before their engagement was announced lol

As for his relationship with the rest of the family, it’s never been confirmed how they felt about him. I’ve read conflicting reports that Philip didn’t think he was good enough for Anne, and that he really liked him because he was a soldier and had great skill as a horseman. The rumour that Charles called him Fog because he was thick and wet was also supposedly just made up by the press, but who knows. The Queen liked him to begin with, but felt towards the end of the marriage that he didn’t make enough effort to spend time with the family, which he didnt.

Before Mark, she had several boyfriends, a lot of them not serious. She dated Richard Meade briefly, who was also in the horsey circle and on the British Olympic Team with Mark in 1972. The romance didn’t last long, but they remained friends. I have posted these before, but I’ll just include them here.

Another guy she dated was Sandy Harper, a polo player, and they would often be seen canoodling at clubs in Soho. But he wasn’t willing to marry into the royal family so that fizzled out. As well as the pic below, ive also posted this and it’s amazing lol

I think that answers everything?

Sorry it’s so long 😬

#anneswered

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outlier-roddy · 5 years

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6 8 9 11 12 15 26 28 30 for the wlw asks (i know its a lot you dont gotta do them all)

no im gonna do all of them ily

6: I like more feminine girls ngl BUT if any girl at all showed interest in me i would die immediately

8: my gaydar is horrible I saw a girl today who i was sure was a lesbian and she went over and started canoodling with this guy who is canonically an abusive dick lmao

9: short girls ftw my coworker is like five inches shorter and she hugged me once and i ascended

11: i wouldnt be able to choose bc ive never been kissed

12: ideal type is like... girl

15: best thing is that they’re way prettier than guys and i can feel like my crushes are justified

26: i have found some ppl!!! fun story is that this one guy who was in the homeschool center with me found me at college and we had a “same gay? same gay!!!” moment i love him sm

28: rn I am more butch than femme but tbh I go for a Van-described “genderpunk” look more often than not

30: once again i would like to reiterate that i just want a girlfriend

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themalhambird · 5 years

Note

Bushy, Bagot, & Green for the Headcanon Ask!

Bushy

Headcanon A: realistic

Bushy quickly realises that a not insignificant amount of times that Richard says he wants sex, what he actually means is that he wants to be hugged or held or have his back stroked for a bit and encourages Richard to ask for hugs when he needs them, rather than sneaking them through post-coital snuggling. Not that the sex isn’t fun because it is, but there’s no shame in just needing to be held.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious.

Loves to sing. Cannot do it. At all. He sounds like a tone deaf cat.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Bushy so wanted to die bravely, for Richard’s sake, but he was so scared and he wanted to live and he couldn’t stop crying. His last thought was a genuine belief that there was still time, his King could come back and save him any mo-

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own

He eventually retires to a lovely country manor with Green, who he would totally have married if that was a thing two guys could do in the 1400s. They have bees. And orchards. And a semi-permanent house guest in the form of Bagot, who shows up to for a chat/good time/ temporary bolt hole from his latest scrape/flirtation.

Bagot

Headcanon A: realistic

Has a small collection of pornographic books, will lend them to anyone who’s interested/ who he thinks might need them *slides the medieval equivalent of gay sex for dummies under Aumerle’s door*

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

Does uncanny impressions of people, likes to imitate John of Gaunt whenever he walks in on one of his friends canoodling the King. (they way Richard jumps when he thinks his uncle’ s caught him in bed is hilarious)

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Afterwards, Bagot approached King Henry IV and asked if he could have Bushy’s and Green’s remains in order to bury them properly. He saw to all the arrangements, and visited their graves once a year. He wanted to go to King’s Langley and Richard’s, too, but he could never quite summon up the courage to approach Aumerle and ask for permission to do so, and by the time Richard’s remains were reinterred at Westminster he had convinced himself that it was better off leaving the past in the past.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

Stood up in front of the Court when he summoned to give evidence about Gloucester’s murder, cheerfully told everyone that it had come as a complete shock to everyone, the King cried when he heard the news because he’d been considering how to approach a reconciliation and now it was too late, knew for a fact that Tom Mowbray had told Richard that it was Henry who murdered Gloucester in an attempt to frame the King so that the could use it as an excuse to seize the crown- the whole exile/disinheriting thing was just Richard’s way of bringing about justice without bringing grief and scandal down on his beloved late Uncle of Lancaster.

Green

Headcanon A: realistic

The mother hen of the minions, tries to take care of everyone and do some forward thinking.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

He doesn’t know what Bushy and Bagot’s first names are and at this point it’s too late to ask. They were supposed to be his colleagues, not his boyfriends!

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Green had advanced warning of Bolingbroke’s intended to return. He didn’t have spies, as such, just friends of friends who liked to pass on gossip, but he knew before Richard left for Ireland. He was going to tell the king, but second guessed himself- after all, it was just a rumour, and if Richard lost his temper and tried to get at Bolingbroke somehow, on top of confiscating his inheritance! it would have been a P.R disaster– whereas a nice victory in Ireland would bolster the King’s support.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

confiscates the boxes of Christmas decorations so that Richard can’t put them up before December. Anything earlier than December 1 is TOO EARLY

#sex mention tw #catipillars of the commonwealth #the BBG defence squad #Bushy #Bagot #Green

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sigridhr · 10 years

Text

Okay, so blackberrycreek asked me for sources to back up her totally correct assumption that linking Amarna art to medical conditions is utter codswallop, and about halfway through writing an absurdly long fanmail I figured I'd just make a post because this is really interesting (to me, anyway).

So, I present: Akhenaten Didn't Have Moobs, Pass it On

This is Akhenaten, previously known as Amenhotep IV, currently known sometimes as the 'Heretic Pharaoh' and who was, even by Egyptian Pharaonic standards (which is a high bar), completely and utterly full of himself.

Everyone loves a meglomanic with curves.

He's also been accused of having man-boobs a lot because archaeologists have way too much time on their hands. It's my pleasure to tell you that the moob theory is probably crap.

There have been many (unfounded and occasionally outright stupid) things written about him, but the short and factual information you need to know going in is that in year 9 of his reign he drastically altered official Egyptian religious practice, removing all references to other gods and worshipping only the visible sundisk, or the Aten. He also picked up and moved the entire royal court to the city of Amarna, which is located in the desert and on the wrong side of the river from the cultivation, which makes it a stupid place to build a city but a great place to practice archaeology because nobody's really built on top of it so it's really well preserved. There are however some really hilarious letters from members of the court complaining about moving to Amarna, which don't actually list what the complaints were but just say that every year Akhenaten gets increasingly more annoying and they're totally sick of his shit.

I basically just picture the entire court doing this behind his back every time he comes up with a new "my father the Aten says we should move to the middle of fucking nowhere and build a giant city for him":

There is, however, also a lot of discussion that he had varying medical conditions, including Marfan Syndrome, and elongated skull, and gynecomastia, which I'm going to happily tell you is probably a tissue of lies.

Firstly, Amarna period art is distinctive and weird in comparison to the normal Egyptian art corpus (though, actually, I find it really beautiful). It's pretty much entirely carved reliefs, and they were carved at varying depths (unlike other Egyptian carved relief, which was typically just to a single depth), so that as the sun crossed the sky it would cast shadows on the carvings that would seem to animate them.

For comparison, here's Thutmosis III, one of Akhenaten's predecessors int he 18th dynasty, smiting some foreigners:

Nice, normal Egyptian propaganda with excellent pointy hats.

Here's Akhenaten being touched by the rays of the Aten, which have adorably creepy little hands.

The hats are still excellent and pointy.

Also, here's Akhenaten and Nefertiti canoodling in a chariot, because it's adorable (and my lecturer jokingly hypothesized this is how Tutankhamen wound up dying in a chariot accident):

RIGHT.

So, as I'm sure you've noticed, the entire shape of the body is drastically altered in the Amarna period. This has led to a lot of speculation that Akhenaten had various medical conditions which were being literally represented in the art.

This is unlikely – first because it is an art convention, and we do have a shift in the depiction of all people during the period so it's nearly impossible everyone came down with rare disorders all at once (especially since most of the proposed diseases would make Akhenaten infertile, which raises the obvious question of how he had children).

There is evidence of change in the art styles – the extent to which his features are exaggerated changes over the course of his reign, and not in a way that would conform to any literal depiction of an actual medical condition.

But, obviously, the most compelling evidence is the fact that there's been genetic testing on his mummy. Now, admittedly, this is still somewhat up in the air as there is debate as to whether the mummy from KV55 is in fact Akhenaten, but it is definitely related to Tutankhamun, and is accepted by some to be Akhenaten's body. We don't have Nefertiti's mummy.

Okay, actually, despite my title, Tutaknhamun's mummy is missing the frontal part of the chest wall, as is KV55, so they couldn't test for putative breasts. However the pelvis on KV55 shows none of the expected feminine traits you'd see in gynecomastia. Marfan syndrom should typically produce dolichocephaly (a head longer than one would expect), but instead Tutankhamun and KV55 both show signs of the opposite condition, brachycephaly, which would certainly not be the case if head binding were practised (which has been suggested based on the shape of the heads in Amarna art), or if Marfan syndrome were present.

There is in fact, to my knowledge, no evidence for the practice of skull binding in Egypt in this period – save the proposed evidence based on the Amarna art corpus – and, well, we've got a lot of skulls and I assume someone would have noticed. (Skull binding is still wicked cool, though, it's just a feature of Mayan and Incan culture, rather than Egyptian).

So, what tests that can be run suggest Amarna art wasn't depicting medical conditions – so pretty much any book you read that suggests that you should probably put down (and then write a strongly worded letter to the Times about it).

So, if it's not medical, why was Akhenaten so fricking weird looking?

WELL. Probably because he was a meglomaniac (I say this lovingly, and with the knowledge that most Egyptian kings were a bit full of themselves). If you look back to the pictures of Akhenaten, you'll see he's covered in tiny little cartouches. These are basically there to let him take on the PHENOMENAL COSMIC POWAH of the god – and it's possible that his decision to depict himself with both male and female characteristics was meant to show him as embodying both male and female aspects of fertility in a single, unified divine representation.

Yeah, because Akhenaten was basically setting himself up to be god on earth – or, at least, the conduit to god on earth.

Basically Akhenaten in a nutshell, although probably with a less soothing voice.

Now, other pharaohs had definitely divinized themselves (hahaha Ramses II, looking at you) and taking on aspects of the gods was a pretty common way to spend a Friday afternoon for the king in Ancient Egypt, but Akhenaten's re-write of religion meant that – officially at least (private religion is wicked cool and it's pretty clear that his attempt to convert everyone to solar worship wasn't wholly successful, but that's another essay) – because there was only one god and Akhenaten the only conduit, the priesthood was considerably less powerful (especially the, at the time, growing cult of Amun) and the king's role as an intercessor considerably more prominent.

Kingly depiction in Ancient Egypt was all about the idealized image, which is why you don't have pictures of old-as-balls Ramses II with his 200 children in the back seat asking 'are we nearly there yet?' (No, I'm not kidding about the 200 children).

There's also a super cool theory that many of Akhenaten's weirdest-looking statues were designed to be viewed standing beneath them, so that the proportions would look much less odd if you looked straight up at them, rather than viewing them from a distance or in photographs, as we commonly do now. (Which every time this is brought up I think of the hilarious Anne Rice quote that we're all just "interrogating the text from the wrong perspective").

Basically, that if a book insists that Amarna art is "conclusive" evidence of skull binding, of Marfan syndrome, or basically any other medical condition, I would take it with a very, very giant handful of salt. There are very good ideological reasons why Akhenaten chose to depict himself the way he did – and they have a lot to do with the political environment in Egypt both during and prior to the Amarna period, developing and changing religious ideas in the period, and, of course, his own propaganda and legitimization of his rule. While those reasons are still debated and not entirely understood by Egyptologists, there's no conclusive medical evidence to suggest it had anything to do with pathology of Akhenaten, Nefertiti, Tutankhamun or any other member of the royal family.

Sources & Further Reading:

The Amarna Project Website is awesome and full of excellent articles and images.

Redford, D. (1984). Akhenaten, the heretic king. Princeton. Arnold, D. (1996). The royal women of Amarna. New York. Montserrat, D. (2000). Akhenaten. History, fantasy and Ancient Egypt. London. Hawass, Z, et al. (2010). "Ancestry and pathology in King Tutankhamun's family." JAMA 303.7: 638-647.

NOW GO, BLACKBERRYCREEK, GO FORTH AND CITE SOURCES (the last one is the one that's most relevant to your question and contains the analysis which suggests brachycephaly, which would make skull binding impossible). Also sorry this is super long and most of it you probably already know – ignore those bits. :P

#egyptology #akhenaten #archaeology #blackberrycreek #walk like an egyptian

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inkuisitivskins · 7 years

Text

Tag

Tagged by @ice-ice-minami

YOUR LAST

1) Drink: diet dr. pepper

2) Phone Call: my mom

3) Text Message: “its okay”

4) Song Listened To: dont remember

5) Time I Cried: like wednesday or something

HAVE YOU EVER

6) Dated Somebody Twice: no

7) Been Cheated On: no

8) Been Kissed By Someone And Regretted It: no lol ive never been kissed

9) Lost Someone Special: yes

10) Been Depressed: when am i not

11) Gotten Drunk And Puked: never been drunk

THREE FAVORITE COLORS

12) pink

13) gray

14) black

IN THE LAST YEAR

15) Made New Friends: a few

16) Fallen Out Of Love: no

17) Laughed Until You Cried: yes

18) Found Out Someone Was Gossiping About You: yes

19) Met Someone Who Changed Your Life: i dont think so

20) Found Out Who Your True Friends Are: lmao very much so

21) Kissed Someone On Your Facebook List: no again

HOW MANY/MUCH

22) Facebook Friends: 263

23) Pets: 3 cats, 3 dogs, a rat, a tortoise, 2 horses, 2 pigs, a hedgehog. we have a lot less than we used to

24) Want To Change Your Name: not really. maybe my last name but dylan’s fine

WHAT

25) Did I Get For My Birthday: just some little merch things

26) Time I Woke Up: 11:30 to inject my dumb insulin then i went back to sleep until like 3:30 pm

27) Were You Doing At Midnight: probably drawing

28) Can’t You Wait For: a-kon in june

29) Was The Last Time You Saw Your Mom: an hour or so ago

30) Was Something You Wish You Could Change About Your Life: i dont want to be sick or depressed. id give almost anything to not have this disease

31) Are You Listening To Right Now: nothing

32) Gets On Your Nerves: a lot of things

33) Talked To A Person Named Tom: yes thats our neighbors name

34) Is Your Most Visited Website: youtube

35) Elementary School: it was okay

36) High School: hated every day i was in it. the IB program was the only good part about it

37) College: i was going for a drawing/painting but i had to drop out beause i almost died and i had to change my whole lifestyle after the event. it gave me such awful anxiety but i want to eventually enroll again in a uni closer to my home for art ed

38) Hair Color: blonde but a gross faded pink rn

39) Long/Short Hair: longish

40) Crush: i dont have one, im going to die alone

41) Do You Like About Yourself: nothing

42) Piercings: none

43) Blood Type: i think ab but im not sure

44) Nickname: none

45) Relationship Status: single forever

46) Zodiac: pisces

47) Pronouns: she/her

48) Favorite Show: i dont watch tv but fullmetal alchemist brotherhood is my favorite anime

49) Tattoos: none yet but ive wanted the same one for probably 5 years now. too bad i dont have any money and i dont make enough to actually save anything up lol

50) Left/Right Handed: right

FIRST

51) Surgery: root canal/tooth extraction. i had a picc line put in when i was in the hospital for dka when i was diagnosed with t1 diabetes but idk if youd count that as a surgery

52) Piercing: none

53) Best Friend: im sure i had one in like kindergarten or elementary school but i dont remember

54) Sport: i was a fucking cheerleader in kindergarten

55) Vacation: disney world florida in like 2004. only one ive been on since was to italy in 2015

56) Pair Of Shoes: how am i supposed to remember that lol

RIGHT NOW

57) Eating: none

58) Drinking: none

59) I Am About To: probably work on my cosplay or draw

60) Listening To: none

61) Waiting For: a-kon..

62) Want To See: idk

63) Want To Get Married: yes

64) Career: guest adviser at gamestop

WHICH IS BETTER

65) Hugs/Kisses: gonna go with hugs cause i dont know what a kiss feels like

66) Lips/Eyes: eyes

67) Taller/Shorter: depends

68) Younger/Older: i get along better with older people

69) Romantic/Spontaneous: both are good

70) Nice Arms/Nice Stomach: nice arms i guess, but id like to have a nice stomach

71) Sensitive/Loud: sensitive

72) Hookup/Relationship: relationships

73) Troublemaker/Hesitant: im not sure

HAVE YOU EVER

74) Kissed A Stranger: no

75) Drank Hard Liquor: no

76) Lost Glasses/Contact Lenses: yes

77) Turned Someone Down: yes bc they were fuckbois

78) Canoodling On A First Date: no unless like.. idk we had been good friends prior and i knew them well. idk

79) Broken Someone’s Heart: no

80) Had Your Own Heart Broken: yes

81) Been Arrested: no

82) Cried When Someone Died: yes

83) Fallen For A Friend: yes. obviously nothing came from it haha

DO YOU BELIEVE IN

84) Yourself: nope

85) Miracles: yes

86) Santa Claus: no

87) Kisses On A First Date: idk

88) Angels: yes

89) Love At First Sight: i dont think so? there’s attraction and then there’s love

OTHER

90) Best Friend’s Name: beck

91) Eye Color: blue

92) Favorite Movie: idk i like a lot of older disney things. nothing new though

TAGGING

im always afraid to tag people so not this time lol. do it if you want

#about me #tag

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hormonethief · 7 years

Text

Rules: once you have been tagged you are supposed to write 92 truths about yourself. at the end choose 25 people to tag. i was tagged by @s0mething-alien (thanks!! LAST: 1. drink: hot chocolate 2. phone call: my mom 3. text message: idk 4. song listened to: good grief by bastille 5. time i cried: haha probably sometime last week HAVE YOU EVER: 6. dated somebody twice: nah 7. been cheated on: nah 8. kissed someone and regretted it: nah 9. lost someone special: kinda? 10. been depressed: who knows 11. gotten drunk and puked: nah THREE FAVOURITE COLOURS: 12. blue 13. blue-green 14. pink IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. made new friends: yep 16. fallen out of love: nah 17. laughed until you cried: yeah 18. found out someone was gossiping about you: nah 19. met somebody who changed you: yeah 20. find out who your true friends are: kinda? 21. kissed somebody on your Facebook list: nah HOW MANY/MUCH: 22. facebook friends do you have in real life: like 5 cause i barely use facebook 23. pets: a cat and dog

24. want to change name: nah

25. did i get for my last birthday: i dont remember lol 26. time i woke up: like 9 27. doing at midnight: playing sims 28. something you cannot wait for: summer! 29. last time i saw my mum: like half an hour ago 30. something you wish you could change about your life: make it INTERESTING 31. listening to right now: warmth by bastille 32. something that gets on your nerves: too many things so idk 33. talked to a person named Tom: i think i have a great uncle named tom?? 34. most visited website: here probably 35. elementary school: not gonna tell ya cause i dont want stalkers haha 36. high school: no 37. college: not in college yet but idek where i wanna go either 38. hair colour: brown 39. long or short hair: probably short hair....but i kinda wanna grow mine out??? 40. crush: ;)) 41. what do you like about yourself: who knows 42. piercings: i have pierced ears but thats it 43. blood type: i wish i knew!! 44. nickname: none :( 45. relationship status: single 46. zodiac: pisces 47. pronouns: she/her 48. favourite show: greys anatomy probably 49. tattoos: none 50. right or left handed: right FIRST: 51. surgery: none, having teeth removed is the closest i’ve come to surgery 52. piercing: ears 53. best friend: i had a best friend named sarah but i dont know her anymore

54. sport: i did gymnastics and softball when i was tiny!!

55. vacation: i think it was when my parents took me to disneyland when i was a baby??

56. pair of shoes: how would i remember....i just remember i had these ugly polka dot rain boots in kindergarden RIGHT NOW: 57. eating: nothing :(( 58. drinking: water 59. im about to: play sims to procrastinate my hw!! 60. listening to: a spotify ad :((((((( 61. waiting for: that annoying spotify add to end!! 62. want to see: idk 63. want to get married: yes!!! 64. career: aaahhhh i wish i knew!! WHICH IS BETTER:

65. hugs/kisses: i’ve never kissed so i guess hugs

66. lips/eyes: eyes??? lips are cute tho ahah 67. shorter/taller: both!!

68. younger/older: idc but i wouldnt wanna date someone with more than a year age difference

69. romantic/spontaneous: idk maybe spontaneous??

70. nice arms/nice stomach: i dont really care so either??

71. sensitive/loud: loud since i’m not very loud i need someone to balance me out

72. hook up/relationship: relationship

73. troublemaker/hesitant: hesitant i guess

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. kissed a stranger: nah

75. drank hard liquor: @honeyy-tongue remember the vanilla

76. lost glasses/contact lenses: i dont even have either so nah

77. turned someone down: nah

78. canoodling on first date:nah

79. broken someones heart: nah (i’m boring ive never done this romantic stuff!!

80. had your own heart broken: nah

81: been arrested: nah

82: cried when someone died: kinda??

83: fallen for a friend: :)

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 84. yourself: sometimes 85. miracles: sometimes

86. love at first sight: yeah kinda,,,idk about for me personally but def others

87. Santa Clause: no

88. kiss on first date: depends??

89. angels: not really

OTHER:

90. current best friends name: bethany and maggie and some others haha

91. eye colour: brown

92. favourite movie/s: dont really watch many movies....i liked fantastic beasts so i guess that??

people im tagging: @honeyy-tongue @chocolatemintdreams @forgothowtonat @puddingpups @ghostsonthewisconsinriver

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washiboy · 7 years

Text

tagged by!!!!! @littlesasquatch THANK YOUUu!!!!!

LAST

1) Drink: tea!!!

2) Phone call: My Mom!!

3) Text message: to you!!! (Jim!!)

4) Song listened to: Shiny - Moana soundtrack

5) Time you cried: AHH recently but i dont remember when lmao!!

HAVE YOU EVER

6) Dated somebody twice: technically yes!!

7) Been cheated on: no

8) Kissed someone and regretted it: no

9) Lost someone special: Yeah.

10) Been depressed: ///

11) Gotten drunk and puked: Yeah yikes

THREE FAVOURITE COLOURS

12) Muted pink

13) Peach

14) BLACK

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU

15) Made new friends: yes!!!

16) Fallen out of love: eh? no i dont think so. idk.

17) Laughed until you cried: yes!!!

18) Found out someone was gossiping about you: no not rlly

19) Met someone who changed your life: ish, yea

20) Found out who your true friends are: yes

21) Kissed someone on your Facebook list: no!!!

HOW MANY/MUCH

22) Facebook friends: idk lmao!!

23) Pets: A CAT!!

24) Want to change your name: Legally yep!!

WHAT

25) Did I get for my birthday: A PS4!!

26) Time I woke up: 6.45

27) Were you doing at midnight: sleeping!!

28) Can’t you wait for: OCTOBER

29) Was the last time you saw your mom: yesterday!!

30) Was something you wish you could change about your life: Idk that i didnt have dysphoria and want to die every die everyday

31) 'You’re welcome’ Moana soundtrack, but the Lin version

32) Gets on your nerves: Loud people and children, like i’m loud but unnecessarily loud. People who walk slow infront of me.

33) Talked to a person named Tom: I dont know!!

34) Is your most visited website: tumblr or youtube!!!

35) Elementary school/primary school: a few!!!

36) High School: two, they were not good

37) College: Its okay!! better than last year!!

38) Hair colour: brown n red!!

39) Long/short hair: short!!!

40) Crush: YESMANY PEOPLE ARE JUST. CUTE

41) Do you like about yourself: No

42) Piercings: ears

43) Blood type: Idk

44) Nickname: Sam/sammy

45) Relationship status: single!!!! cries!!!

46) Zodiac: Leo

47) Pronouns: He/they

48) Favourite show: Hannibal/dexter

49) Tattoos: no sadly !!!!! i want em ho

50) Left or right handed: right

FIRST

51) Surgery: none

52) Piercings: ear

53) Best friend: Mia

54) Sport: idk!!

55) Vacation: Texas that i remember!!!

56) Pair of shoes: idk!!

RIGHT NOW

57) Eating: left over cheese sandwhich lmao!!!

58) Drinking: tea!!!

59) I am about to: do some graphics work yikes

60) Listening to: moana soundtrack

61) Waiting for: my exams to be!!! o v e r

62) Want to see: UR CUTE ME TOO

63) Want to get married: yes!!! Eventually!!

64) Career: Ideally ... a storyboard ARTIST

WHICH IS BETTER

65) Hugs/kisses: ummm hugging me and kissing my forehead please!!!

66) Lips/eyes: eyes

67) Taller/shorter: Either!!!

68) Younger/older: idk!!

69) Romantic/spontaneous: Romantic

70) Nice arms/nice stomach: idk!

71) Sensitive/loud: both!!! i’m both

72) Hookup/relationship: relationship

73) Troublemaker/hesitant: troublemaker

HAVE YOU EVER

74) Kissed a stranger: no

75) Drank hard liquor: yes

76) Lost glasses/contact lenses: yes

77) Turned someone down: yeah probably

78) Canoodling on a first date: no

79) Broken someone’s heart? probably yikes!!

80) Had your own heart broken: yeah

81) Been arrested: no

82) Cried when someone died: no, fictional characters yes

83) Fallen for a friend: yepp yep!!!

DO YOU BELIEVE IN

84) Yourself: i try!!!

85) Miracles: i’m not sure!! not in a religious way for surre!!

86) Santa Claus: NO I WISH I WAS STILL THAT INNOCENT LMFAO

87) Kisses on a first date: Sure!!!

88) Angels: No not really

89) Love at first sight: Not ourside of fiction

OTHER

90) Best friend’s name: JIMMYYYY @littlesasquatch , Bil!!!!

91) Eye colour: brown

92) Favourite movie: TREASURE PLANET, MOANA, MY NEIGHBOR TOTORO

TAGGING!!! nobody actually!!! im pretty sure ive done this before or something similar and dont wanna bother anybody!!

#about me #ur cuteeeeeeeeeeeeeee #mine

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deadliestninja · 7 years

Text

I was tagged by @motherduckingwinchester LAST: 1. drink: water 2. phone call: i dunno 3. text message: don't have my phone on 4. song listened to: BMTH- Follow you 5. time i cried: when i beat ffxv a few weeks ago HAVE YOU EVER: 6. dated somebody twice: yea 7. been cheated on: no 8. kissed someone and regretted it: nope have never kissed anyone 9. lost someone special: yes 10. been depressed: yea, Im trying not to be 11. gotten drunk and puked: no THREE FAVOURITE COLOURS: 12. Black 13. Grey 14. Dark white IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. made new friends: yea 16. fallen out of love:nope 17. laughed until you cried: yes, yesterday actually 18. found out someone was gossiping about you: yea, it sucked 19. met somebody who changed you: yes 20. find out who your true friends are: yup 21. kissed somebody on your Facebook list: nope HOW MANY/MUCH: 22. facebook friends do you have in real life: some 23. pets: none 24. want to change name: sometimes when my friends say that spongebob quote XD 25. did i get for my last birthday: a trip to walker stalker con 26. time i woke up: 5 a.m 27. doing at midnight: sleeping 28. something you cannot wait for: Graduation 30. something you wish you could change about your life: I wish I could of somehow keep my internet friend group together. 31. listening to right now: nothing 32. something that gets on your nerves: Fake friends, Back Stabbers, Assholes, Rascist people, People who think they run everything. 33. talked to a person named Tom: nope 34. most visited website: Here and youtube 35. elementary school: Ive moved so many times i dont even remeber 36. high school: Greenbrier 37. college: Soon to be SCAD (Next January) 38. hair colour: Black 39. long or short hair: hella short 40. crush: I dunno im a hoe 41. what do you like about yourself: I dunno im trash 42. piercings: nope 43. blood type:? 44. nickname: White, kev kev 45. relationship status: single 46. zodiac: Scorpio 47. pronouns: he 48. favourite show: Final Fantasy XV Brotherhood 49. tattoos: none 50. right or left handed: right handed FIRST: 51. surgery: nope 52. piercing: none 53. best friend: Brittney , I cant even count how many times she saved me 54. sport: TRACK 55. vacation:Disney last summer 56. pair of shoes: ? RIGHT NOW: 57. eating: nope 58. drinking: nope 59. im about to: clean 60. listening to: nothing 61. waiting for: My death 62. want to see: Death 63. want to get married: unless they propose using a sword 64. career: I want to be a youtuber or a special effects artist WHICH IS BETTER: 65. hugs/kisses: hugs 66. lips/eyes: both 67. shorter/taller: both   68. younger/older: not to young

69. romantic/spontaneous: both 70. nice arms/nice stomach: I dont care 71. sensitive/loud: Depends 72. hook up/relationship: relationship 73. troublemaker/hesitant: Both XD HAVE YOU EVER: 74. kissed a stranger: nope 75. drank hard liquor: nope 76. lost glasses/contact lenses: I dont wear glasses 77. turned someone down: nope 78. canoodling on first date: ? 79. broken someones heart: yea, looking back on it im a dick 80. had your own heart broken: yup 81: been arrested: not yet 82: cried when someone died: yea 83: fallen for a friend: I need to stop doing that... DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 84. yourself: hell no 85. miracles: yea 86. love at first sight: nope 87. Santa Clause: HELL YEA 88. kiss on first date: nope 89. angels: nope OTHER: 90. current best friends name: Brittney, Christine, Zack, Hannah 91. eye colour: brown 92. favourite movie/s: Inception, FFXV Kingsglaive, FFVII Advent children

Im too lazy to tag anybody, if you want to do it go ahead

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