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#'and I was too lazy to figure out the correct code to get around that issue'
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(Was digging through old messages on Slack and found these pics I sent to myself 2 years ago).
Please enjoy my collection of “overly honest methods” in science that were supposedly curated from a Twitter hashtag ;D
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agarthanguide · 5 months
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How the heck do you get Ashton to actually look like a rock? Signed, a fanartist who has tried every brush under the sun but still cannot nail it the way you brilliantly have.
ahhh thank you so much for the kind words!
Answer (sort of)- Ash's palette was hugely up in the air for a really long time. I kept pitching random bits of color at Taliesin, but his write up did not have any specific coloring in it from the get-go. And because I knew they were made of rock, I trended towards something to the left or right of grey (his working/code name had the word grey in it, as well, which def influenced me).
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This went on for a while, until one day Tal did his Tal thing and just sent me plans for the finished Ashton. He painted over one of my sketches with the colors he wanted, included refs of some textures. The textures for the skin included nephrite and serpentine (nephrite is one form of jade, serpentine is a whole other thing.)
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The serpentine reference had these really bold lines running through it, and I was worried I wouldn't be able to replicate them, so i just... dropped the texture into the sketch. I think I was just checking to see if it was gonna make them unreadable, but it actually looked pretty great. I painted over it a bit to work out where the lines should fall and how to get them to bend around the figure. And then when I was doing the final render, I made a brush that made the fucky line effect. There's one key element to the brush that I will show you-
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The shape of the brush is just a random splatter shape, but the angle, size, and roundness change in response to pen pressure, so that as you draw, you can increase the size with added pressure, and some lovely, 3-D helix shapes will start appearing as you go.
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From there it's easy- Make an extreme dark and an extreme light in your little texture space, then paint over in variations of green to push things deeper into Ash's "skin" while maintaining a slight transparency.
Here's some other little tips- - Before you add intense, lined texture, start with a textured base. This can be anything. Once I used a picture of the amazon rainforest with heavy color correction. Sometimes I use sponge brushes. Have fun with it. - Try to make the larger textures support the underlying figure. My go-to is large, lazy spirals that shimmy up and down their limbs. - Don't fight the lighting too much. To increase readability, try to use elements of higher or rougher texture to frame the features, while keeping the immediate area of their eyes, for example, less busy.
Good luck, and thanks for the ask!
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gardenia777 · 7 months
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avalie modern au secondary school + uni hcs smiles giggles
secondary:
- plays rugby. loves to tackle people, is less interested in chasing the ball and scoring
- best friends with marcurio after they were begrudging partners for a project in history. he thought she was lazy and stupid and she thought he had a stick up his ass. they were both correct
- but then they realised they were both also nerds and became friends
- they have a study group together but they keep getting kicking out of the library for talking
- they had a habit of breaking into places at night time to go explore and look for treasures (avalie lockpicking level 65 atm😇)
- they go hide in some random secluded stairway at lunch times and scowl at year 8s who come too close to them
- someone threw a school panini really hard at marcurio’s head one time and he thought avalie would defend him but she just laughed until she snorted
- avalie keeps getting into trouble because she wears big boots with her uniform rather than the shoes you’re supposed to
- and she does like nordic hairstyles her favourite is like a little tiny french plait on either side of her head with the rest loose
- shes loosely pagan shes religious but in her own way if that makes sense
- one of her comfort items is an amulet that she always wears given to her by her like adoptive grandfather figure who she lives with
- always has like a billion rings on as well
THE INCIDENT she becomes partially blind somehow. either an injury or flash blindness or something like that idk i’m not di
university:
- so she gets a service dog he’s brown and his name is meeko. brings him everywhere obviously and thinks she’s all that because she’s brought her dog to class
- linguistics student!!! with a minor in vocal performance
- she really likes languages especially really old and dead ones. and ever since she lost her vision she’s been more interested in braille
- she tutors people in french and gaeilge
- she’s in a rock band with marcurio (who went to the same uni to study history) he plays bass and she sings. there are other people too i just dk them yet
- she has tattoos!!! she has a big dragon design on her back, and laurel leaves on her collarbones. and swords from her wrists to her forearms.
- still wears her big boots everywhere you can always hear her stomping up the stairs to the top floor of her uni building
- her dorm room looks like some type of wizards lair. why does she have SCROLLS
- she cant see well enough to play rugby anymore but she still likes to lift weights!!! with her former rugby buddies turned gym bros the himbo-esque farkas and mean lady aela
- her flat mates come back from clubbing at 3am to see avalie sitting at the kitchen table in complete darkness absolutely FUCKING UP a bowl of potato soup
- she’s very well known around campus even though she’s not very sociable she does lots of little favours for people. her moral code is dubious but she does like to help out
- or cause problems. people either love her or hate her
- had a really toxic relationship (jaree-ra victims will know) when she first entered uni
- met serana after her band played at a bar serana’s father owned
- avalie thought they’d never see each other again after a very tense conversation of trying not to look at the other’s lips but then serana sought her out on campus
- something something then serana joins their strange little group to make the weirdest trio of freaks you’ve ever seen
- they get serana away from her horrible father and they all move into one apartment together and it’s chaotic and weird and perfect
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cloudycodes · 1 year
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19 dec 2022, monday
codewars algorithm practice
today i decided to stop being lazy and restart my daily codewars practice so i’m gonna go over how i solved these. tbh i’ll probably make this another series in my posts but idk how i want the format yet… thoughts
the first problem —
you were camping with your friends far away from home, but when it's time to go back, you realize that your fuel is running out and the nearest pump is 50 miles away! you know that on average, your car runs on about 25 miles per gallon. there are 2 gallons left. considering these factors, write a function that tells you if it is possible to get to the pump or not. function should return true if it is possible and false if not.
the goal was to write a function that used three parameters to return a true or false. they provided us with this to start:
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this was pretty easy to tell that basic math would solve the problem. i just needed to see how far i could get with the current gallons at the mpg rate and compare it to the distance remaining to the pump.
to determine the distance i could travel on our given gallons and mpg of the variable, i created variable distance. then, all i had to do was create a statement to determine if our distance was greater than or equal to the distance to the pump then it will return true, otherwise false
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i then reduced this by using comparison operators to eliminate the numerous lines of code, which gives us the final answer of
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wahoo
the second problem —
given a string of digits, you should replace any digit below 5 with '0' and any digit 5 and above with '1'.
the goal was to return the resulting string with the above direction. to start, we were given:
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reading the instructions made it clear that i would be using string and array methods to work the existing string. whenever i work on algorithms, i like to break things down this way to clarify what steps i am taking in figuring out the correct answer. below are three variables i created to solve this problem.
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to explain above:
noting that x is a string, i decided to use .split() to separate every value of the string into an array of substrings
then i decided to use .map() to create a new array of results that fell within the conditions needed
to write the conditional statement, i used the syntax of the ternary operator for the sake of concise code — (number ⇒ if number is less than 5, return 0, else return 1)
finally to put the string together, i used .join();
to reduce the lines of code, i put them all together in one line which gives us the final answer
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wahoo
typing all of this out helps me reinforce certain concepts so i can Stop Googling Everything too. hopefully i get around to doing this once every couple days ^^
i'm sure there are better ways to do these so i'm always open to suggestions and corrections
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rocorambles · 3 years
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Let's Give It A Try
Pairing: Bokuto x Reader
Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Mafia AU, Sex Toys, Overstimulation, Use of Sir, Dirty Talk, Degradation
Summary: Dating a man like Bokuto Koutarou goes against every moral code you’ve learned growing up, but love has a funny way of going against the grain.
Bokuto exhales, sighing as he leans broad shoulders against the rough exterior of the building behind him, cigarette smoke floating in tendrils in front of him. He prides himself on the strength and health of his body, but when he gets in one of his moods after a particularly strenuous week, he can’t help but rely on the way the nicotine mellows out the stress of his job. Closing his eyes, he lets the muffled beat of the music inside the club reverberate through his chest, letting himself let go just a tiny bit. Foolish maybe, considering just how many people want him dead, but he allows himself a moment of lax judgement while on his turf, literally on the ground he owns, surrounded by his men both in and out of the club, under the watchful blue eyes of his right hand man.
Everything will be just fine.
And suddenly everything’s a little bit more than just fine as his curiosity peeks, sharp owl-like eyes scanning you as you come stumbling out of the club, taking deep ragged breaths, completely unaware of your surroundings as you greedily inhale the fresh night air.
He has to bite back the sharp grin that threatens to stretch across his face at your adorable jump and squeak when you finally straighten up and take inventory of who’s around you, quivering like a little mouse when you meet his intense golden gaze. There’s something different about you and he can tell with just a quick glance at you that this isn’t your usual joint, taking in your considerably conservative and casual outfit for the area’s most popular nightclub, the nervous ticks and almost bashful way you curl in on yourself, unused to the hungry look he continues to direct at you.
It takes some coaxing and he almost feels bad at how he swears he can hear your frightened and unsure heartbeat pounding your chest as he approaches you. But his talons are out, wide eyes too curious and intrigued by the prey that’s caught his attention to just let you go off on your merry way. He croons at how you stutter, tripping over your words in your nervousness, licking his own lips for a different reason when he sees your pink muscle dart out to wet your dry ones.
But he can feel his wings furl out to their full span, can feel himself prepare to lunge at you when he finds out that his sweet little mouse came all by herself, trying to get over your recent breakup by having some fun, maybe even finding someone to…
This time he does laugh when you embarrassedly trail off, ending your anxious ramblings, before pinning you down with a wild grin that makes your chest tighten.
“I can be that someone.”
There’s something about the man that leaves you on edge. You can’t deny the fact that he’s handsome, in a wild rugged way that reminds you of a predator. But there’s something...intense about him, something in his eyes, something in his presence, something in his aura that makes you shiver, keeping your suddenly heavy feet rooted to their spot. Not that you’d get very far if he was intent on doing you harm you ascertain as you stare at the muscular and toned figure in front of you.
Yet despite all that, you can’t help but believe that he really does mean you no harm. Maybe it’s what you want to believe. A last hope and faith that not all men are scum like your ex is. Desperate to believe that there are decent men out there, that you can find happiness and maybe even love one day. So going against every ounce of self-defense and common sense that’s been instilled in you all your life, you take this stranger’s hand and let him guide you away, finding comfort in his warm, calloused grip.
Even if you do end up dead after all this, you can’t help but think you’ve made the right decision, your problem more than solved as any thoughts of your ex (and anything else really) fly out your head as soon as you’re dragged into an alarmingly luxurious apartment. He really is more animal than man and you cry out as teeth harshly dig into your neck, possessively and hungrily marking every inch of you, lips greedily wrapping around perky nipples and sucking with a force that makes your eyes roll and your nails dig into his thick biceps. But that only seems to egg him on more and you vaguely wonder if you’re going to cum before he can even get to the main course, body already overwhelmed with arousal and desire as he touches you everywhere except where you need him most.
You’re positively dripping by the time he does make it between your legs, too high strung to even be embarrassed, letting out a high pitched whine instead when he teasingly blows on your sopping wet entrance, pressing your thighs apart, leaving you on full display. And you swear you black out purely from relief when a hot wet tongue finally licks a long line up your slit. So on edge already, it only takes a few flicks and lapping of your aroused clit to have you careening off that pleasurable cliff and you sob, body thrashing and convulsing as you ride out your orgasm while lips and tongue continue to work you over.
You blearily blink as you finally regain control of your body, expecting the man between your legs to take the hint as you try to sit up on your elbows. But you scream, instantly collapsing on the bed, hands fisting in the sheets besides you as two thick fingers suddenly slip inside of you, beginning a relentless pace right from the start, hot tongue still lapping and licking at your sensitive clit. It’s too much, too soon and you writhe, body trying to pry yourself away from the torturous pleasure, but also aching for another release as the coil in you is wound tight. Not that Bokuto leaves you much choice as he easily keeps you pinned down, your legs no match for the strength of his arms and upper body as he continues to feast on you, your pretty cries and screams music to his ears, your delicious juices intoxicating. And before you even realize it, you’re forced to your second peak, creaming and clamping down on the digits still stuffed inside of you, back arching, mouth opening in a silent scream.
Surely it’s over and you tell yourself that you’ll just close your eyes for a brief moment, a few seconds at most before paying him back with a blowjob, handjob, whatever he wants in return. Except your companion has very different plans on exactly how you’ll return the favor and your eyes shoot open, pathetic pleading noises spilling past your lips as you feel something hard and thick press against your entrance. But then he’s shoving inside of you, cock splitting your spent hole in two, and your mind blanks, unable to resist, unable to enjoy, only able to take and feel as it drags against your walls, going deeper and deeper.
And that’s how you pass out, one of the last clear memories you have before your mind fades to darkness, exhaustion and bliss rendering you useless as you’re ruthlessly fucked into and used by the man above you as he chases his own end, head empty except for mindless thoughts of cock, cock, cock.
There’s a few more one night flings after that and you try and convince yourself that it’s just that, nothing more, ignoring the pang in your heart when Bokuto sends you a sad face via text when he wakes up to an empty bed, ignoring the guilt resting heavy on your shoulders when you accidentally sleep in longer than you meant to and have to pry yourself from a pouting face and gentle grip on your wrist as gold eyes plead for you to stay.
But Bokuto Koutarou always gets what he wants and you find it harder to wriggle out from his strong arms as the sun’s rays filter through the windows, you find it harder to not sit down at his dining table and stay for a piping hot cup of coffee, you find it harder not to wake up and nuzzle closer to his body, cuddling and sweetly talking with him more than a casual relationship warrants.
And you find it impossible to not say yes when he asks you to officially go out with him one lazy morning as he cradles you in his arms.
Dating Bokuto is an adventure unlike any you’ve been on before and it’s so easy to be swept along in his enthusiasm and energy, giggling like children in one moment before you’re being pounced on in the next, gold eyes darkening in raw hunger and lust. Bokuto is an enigma that you wonder if you’ll ever truly understand, so easily shifting from a cheerful goofball to a dangerous predator and back again. But you don’t mind, finding the multi-faceted personality one of his strong suits...until it isn’t anymore.
You’d always had a feeling that Bokuto was hiding something from you, some things not quite adding up, the outgoing man strangely reticent about certain topics, especially regarding his work life and where his money comes from. But you had chalked it up to your sweet boyfriend being humble, not wanting to delve too much into his enormous wealth, because he must have enormous wealth from the penthouse apartment he lives in, the extravagant vacations he whisks you away on, the luxury gifts he bestows upon you without blinking an eye. And you’re correct, just not in the way you had imagined and you tearily and accusationally glare at him when you accidentally come across the hidden switch in the back of his closet, door opening and revealing crates and crates of a white powdery substance.
You want him to laugh it off like he always does, tell you some bullshit about it being for some prank he’s going to pull on Akaashi or Konoha, that it’s not what you think it is. But he doesn’t and the two of you just silently stare at each other, the pieces connecting all too clearly even without a word being said. And you leave, betrayal and hurt digging their claws into you as you leave behind a man who you thought you had known, who you had loved, but who you realize maybe you don’t really know at all.
It feels eerily familiar, a sense of deja vu flooding you when you take hesitant steps into another nightclub in the area, desperate for another distraction, another fling to fuck you free from thoughts of gold eyes and a muscular body. You tell yourself that there’s nothing similar about the solid build of the stranger you’re grinding up against, that the similarity in appearance is just coincidence as the two of you stumble to his apartment. But then lips and hands are all over you, too gentle, too soft, treating you like glass, words too cautious. Everything’s wrong, wrong, wrong and when he begins a slow careful pace, fucking you like he’s making love, so different from the way a certain man would have broken you down to pieces only to build you back up, you shove him off, uncaring of how rude you’re being.
That night when you return to your own bed, you sob in frustration, toys, dildos, vibrators scattered around you as you seek any relief you can get, looking for even the slightest mimicry of Bokuto’s touch, trying to remember what he sounds like, what he feels like. But memory and imagination can only get you so far, can never live up to the real thing, and you scream into your pillow as an unsatisfying orgasm ripples through you, the realization that Bokuto has ruined your body for anyone else, even yourself, sinking into you.
It’s absolute stupidity to be with someone just for great sex. Absolutely ridiculous. What decent human would go crawling back to their drug-dealing ex just for his good dick game? God knows what other shady underground shit Bokuto’s up to and you know it runs much deeper than a single room full of cocaine.
But maybe you’re not a decent human. Maybe that’s why you still can’t stop thinking of him despite how you try and hold out, despite the multiple flings, nights, and even entire weekends you spend with yourself in bed, spending far too much on sex toys, pussy and clit throbbing, fingers and hands aching from constantly bending to be inside yourself. Yet for all that, you’re never satisfied, every weak orgasm, every disappointing touch from another man only making your need for Bokuto even more pronounced, until you finally break. And a month later you call Bokuto, a scrambled frantic call over the phone with a dildo shoved deep inside you, a vibrator buzzing on your clit, tears streaming down your face when they do nothing to take away the yearning inside of you, begging and pleading for him to come and help you.
It’s humiliating how even just the sight of him skyrockets your arousal to levels you haven’t felt since the two of you dated and you whimper as he casually leans in your doorway, thick arms crossed across his chest, gold eyes raking over your sweating nude figure that’s writhing on top of rumpled bed sheets.
“This is a good look for a desperate slut like you. Couldn’t cum without me? No one, not even your little toys could make you feel good? Maybe I should just leave, just like how you left me. Leave you high and dry. Well I guess maybe not that dry.”
You pant, wide blown out eyes watching as he slowly approaches you, face heating when he bends down to peer at your dripping cunt, mockingly whistling at how you pretty hole is no different than a leaking faucet, inner thighs drenched in your arousal.
“Koutarou, please-”
You scream as fingers harshly twist at your nipples, eyes rolling to the back of your head as just that brutal touch is enough to bring you over the edge you had been hovering around for so long, body convulsing, a dopey grin making its way onto your lips when you finally feel the pleasure you’d been craving for so long.
“Fuck, you came from just that? Who the fuck said you could cum? Who the fuck said you could use my name? Sluts like you don’t deserve to say my name. You know what to address me as.”
You wail, pain melding with the pleasure as he shoves your vibrator away, alternating between pinching and slapping your already overstimulated clit as he enunciates every word he snarls at you, a feral grin stretching across his face at your barely coherent babbles of “sir” and “sorry”.
The constriction in his own pants is painful and he’s quick to strip waist down, slowly palming his aching erection. It takes everything in him to hold back, to not just shove balls deep inside of you in one strong thrust, your absence affecting him just as badly. But that’s not what this is about. This is about making a point, reminding you just how wrong you were for leaving him without a single word, rebuilding what the two of you once had. And as ravenous as he is, he takes his time, willing himself to slow down and rediscover every inch of you, painstakingly exploring your body once again, re-memorizing every sensitive part of you that elicits a little gasp, a tiny mewl.
And he doesn’t stop, pulling the dildo inside of you completely out, using his teeth, tongue, and finger to bring you to the edge over and over again, always backing away just when you’re about to fall off that pleasurable cliff once more, diving back in like a man starved just when you think you have a shaky grasp on your senses. Only when you’re full out sobbing broken cries of his title, a litany of “please, please, please” escaping you does he move on and he groans at how perfectly your legs wrap around his back, urging him inside you as his cock finally makes contact with your gushing cunt, your hands weakly pawing at him in a silent plea for more.
But again he stops, bringing a thumb to wipe away your tears as you begin to wail anew, frustration and denial tearing you to shreds, instinctively leaning into his touch as he gently strokes your cheekbone.
“Tell me who’s the only one who can make you feel good. Who’s the only one who can pleasure you?”
And as you scream his name, he finally slams inside of you, relentlessly pounding in and out of you, gold eyes hungrily taking in how wrecked you look, how broken you look, all because of him, only for him.
It doesn’t take long for both of you to tumble together over that edge, not when both of you are beyond pent up, absence making your hearts grow fonder and your bodies desperate for each other. And you can’t help the content warm surge inside of you when you feel hot thick liquid fill your insides, your body lax and useless in post-coital bliss, heart and mind eager for Bokuto to collapse beside you and pull you into his toned chest like he always does.
Except there is no familiar weight beside you and your head shakes side to side, drool trickling down your face when Bokuto’s softening cock is suddenly replaced by four fingers brutally thrusting in and out of you, curling just right along your still quivering walls.
“We still have a long way to go, little mouse. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
You don’t know how many times you’re forced over the edge after that, consciousness fading in and out as he assaults your cunt with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. You even vaguely remember waking up once to a dildo in your ass, Bokuto pounding into your cum-filled pussy, your body more stretched than it’s been in a long time. They all blur together, only tied together by the delirious pleasure that numbs everything else until you’re succumbing to darkness one last time as yet another body shaking orgasm rips through you.
It’s the scent of fresh coffee and bacon that awakens you and you blearily open your eyes, only to immediately wince as soon as you try to move, your body feeling like it had been rammed into by a truck (although you suppose that imagery isn’t too far off from what actually transpired). Sinking back into the plush pillow and mattress, you close your eyes, wondering what’s your next move. Force your aching body out of bed and confront the inevitable, already somewhat dreading having to face Bokuto now that your mind isn’t clouded with lust? Go back to sleep and pray that he’s gone when you wake up again, like a coward?
But Bokuto doesn’t leave you a choice and you shyly cover yourself with the blanket when he comes bounding into the room, a heaping plate of food and a cup of the delicious caffeinated beverage in his hands, heart fluttering when you see the warm and affectionate grin on his face as he approaches you, carefully placing everything on the nightstand before tenderly pecking your forehead and murmuring good morning.
You try to say something, anything, words getting stuck in your throat, but you’re shushed as the coffee mug is carefully placed in your hands, Bokuto’s soothing voice urging you to eat and recover first. And you gladly take the excuse, hunger and thirst from last night’s endurance marathon finally making itself known as you devour everything. But there’s only so long you can avoid the inevitable and with belly full and feeling more yourself, you listen as he gently grabs your hand, letting him entwine his fingers with yours as he tells you everything.
Who he is. What he does. Exactly how he’s affiliated with the Fukurodani Syndicate.
None of it is surprising, a lot of it what you had surmised and guessed yourself. But it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow knowing just how much he had kept from you, how much he had been planning on keeping from you for who knows how long. At least it’s all out in the open now though, no secrets left between the two of you, and there’s a pause as he continues to rub his thumb on the back of your hand.
“I won’t sugar coat who I am and what my life is. I don’t expect you to come running back with open arms. But if you’re willing to give it a try, I swear that there’ll never be any more secrets, that I’ll protect you, that I’ll love you. I’ll be the damn best boyfriend there ever is.”
You almost giggle at how childish the last sentence is, hope churning in your stomach when you see how genuine and passionate he is, fondness flowing through you when you recognize the man you had fallen in love with beyond the dirt on his hands. And you know it’s arguably foolish, goes against every moral code you’ve grown up with, but love never does seem to follow set equations and rules and you bring that hand to your lips, affectionately kissing your clasped fingers as you meet gold eyes.
“Let’s give it a try.”
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splintergirl13 · 3 years
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So here is a little head cannon I thought of while reading your fan fic.
What if herobrine never had/celebrated his birthday so he forgot when it was, so Steve and Alex pick a day and celebrate his birthday with him. (P.s. sorry I have horrific grammer)
I liked this idea so much I made a little drabble under the read more :3 I hope it is worthy of such an great headcanon! Thank you so much for the ask! It fills me with joy to hear that people are thinking about my story lol <3. And don't worry. Grammar is hard and doesn't make any sense. I feel your pain
Before we dive in: this takes place pretty earlier into Steve and Brine becoming friends. So they are just starting to pine. Not in a relationship yet. Alex and Brine are still a little wary of each other but have come to accept that they are stuck with each other.
I'd say this is rated teen for just some small strong language lol
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The Birthday Brine
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It was a hot, lazy summer afternoon. Too nice to spend down in the mines. But a little too warm to do any strenuous activities.
So Alex and Steve decided to go on down to the small river they frequented on days like today. A secluded area where the water pooled deep enough to swim. And, of course, Herobrine tagged along. As was becoming more of the norm these days.
Steve was lying comfortably in the shade of a few trees on the bank of the river. Legs in the water; small waves lapped up to his knees as the water went by. Arms crossed behind his head. His shirt was off and laid over his eyes, shutting out any of the light that filtered through the leaves. Not really dozing off, but close to it.
Herobrine was similarly relaxing. He lay on his belly; balanced precariously on a nearby tree that had fallen over the river. Looking like a big cat lounging about in the direct sun. Soaking up the rays. One hand was draped down to the side, touching the cool water.
Alex was the only one fully in the river. She was a little upstream, floating on her back. She had taken off her pants, leaving them on the shore, and let her long green shirt cover her lower half. Every once in a while she would swim back to her original place as the current took her down towards Herobrine.
The trio had been chatting absentmindedly. Talking about anything, really. Steve ranted humorously about his pickaxe making a squeaking sound. Alex discussed way too many of the current happenings in town. Even Herobrine brought up that a dragonfly had landed on his shoulder. Which had the trio all staring for a bit before it flew off and they went back to their current positions.
It wasn't until a certain question came to Alex’s mind that the peace of the scene was disturbed.
"Hey Sparky." The adventurer asked. "...How old are you?"
Herobrine took a while to answer. Seeming to think through the question slowly. Finally he asked without opening his eyes. "Why?"
"Just curious." Alex shrugged, swimming a little.
The demon shifted. Now peaking over to look at Steve. It was like the miner could tell that he was being looked at because he lifted his shirt to look back questioningly.
Herobrine spoke up. "When was the last time I respawned? Four months ago?"
Steve frowned. "Yes. More like three. You fell through a roof, remember?"
"Right, right." Herobrine moved his hand up out of the water. "Terribly made and rusty old structure. Glad it forced a respawn. Tetanus is not fun even with healing powers."
"Why is this relevant?" Alex asked impatiently.
"I'm 28." Herobrine said immediately.
Alex sat up in the water. Causing a bit of a ruckus amongst some fish that had gotten close. "No you're not!"
"Yes I am." Herobrine turned his attention to her. She shuddered ever so slightly under his scrutinizing stare. "Every time I die, I respawn back to the same age at which I turned immortal."
Alex crossed her hands over her chest. "Okay, well that's only technically. I meant, like, if you count ALL the years you've been alive."
"I have no fucking clue, Alex." Herobrine rolled his head to the otherside of the tree to ignore her. Yet continued to talk. "Time loses all meaning when you're immortal. Not to mention I was trapped in the nether for most of that time. So it's even harder to tell."
"What's your best guess?" Steve asked, now curious as well.
And the head came back around. Looking at Steve. The demon wouldn't ignore the miner. He bit his lip, eyes trailing towards the water. "I dunno... maybe a few centuries... a millennia or so..."
"Old." Steve clarified. Seeing that the demon was struggling a little.
"Yeah... old." Herobrine scowled.
"So, what, do we have to, like, wait until you live a year to celebrate your birthday?" Alex giggled. "No wonder you don't remember it. It would never be your birthday based on that criteria."
Herobrine scoffed. "What are you talking about?"
"Yeah." Steve added, putting the shirt back over his eyes. "Come to think of it, when is your birthday, Brine?"
"You want to know the exact date I was born?" Herobrine sat up now, clearly confused. "Fuck... I don't know. I didn't even keep track of days back then. I just survived. It wasn't until I met... my brother that we talked about days. And he was able to do some weird 'code calculation' as he called it to figure out my true age. But we didn't really care about that. None of us counted in the aether. None of us wanted to count. When you have endless time you tend not to care. It's a depressing chore."
"So none of you celebrated your birthday?" Alex asked.
"Why would you celebrate your birth?" Herobrine growled. "Existence is a curse."
"That's why we have to celebrate!" Alex exclaimed. "It helps us mortals to forget about our fleeting existence."
"Yeah!" Steve enthusiastically raised a fist to the sky in agreement.
"Like the aether needed another reason to celebrate..." Herobrine grumbled, flopping back down on the tree. "The amount of bullshit dances I had to get dressed up for was astronomical."
"So you really have never had a birthday, huh?" Steve wasn't sure why he was surprised.
"Nope." Herobrine said, popping the p and settling back on the tree. Thinking that was the end of the conversation.
But Steve and Alex had other plans.
"Bro you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"You think we have enough time today?"
"Sure why not? We were already planning on going into town together."
"Then we better hurry."
"What are you two talking about?" Herobrine muttered. The siblings were getting out of the water and putting back on their clothes.
"We're going to throw you a birthday party!" Steve smiled over at him.
Herobrine almost fell off his branch.
"W-what? Why?"
Alex shrugged. "Well, if you don't know what day your birthday is, it might as well be any day. And since we are already all together and don't have any plans for the rest of the evening... why not?"
Herobrine teleported off his tree and stood next to the two. "You really don't need to-"
"Too late, it's happening." Alex smiled. Starting to walk off. Not putting on her shoes as she walked through the increasingly tall grass.
"Go wait in the nether and come back around sunset!" Steve pushed on his back excitedly. As if he could shove him through a portal that wasn't there.
"Why?"
"We are gonna surprise you!"
"Oh. Yippee. Surprise." Herobrine did not mask his unenthusiasm.
"It'll be fun, I promise." Steve said as he stopped pushing and went to go join Alex.
Herobrine was left alone and very confused as to what had just happened. He blinked up at the setting sun and winced. He wouldn't know the correct time in the nether. So he decided to go back to his tree branch and relax until the time came. He had no idea what was in store for him. But he didn't try to think too hard about it. If he didn't like it he could always teleport away.
All this talk of aether and age had his head buzzing with unpleasant thoughts. He tried to will them away and think of nothing instead. Watching as the river flowed beneath him. The dragonfly landed back on his hands.
-
It was just after sunset when Herobrine was walking up to Steve's small house and knocking on the door. Steve was adamant about him knocking. As Herobrine had the tendency to just teleport into a location, unannounced. There was the sound of muffled talking as well as a wonderful smell of something cooking in the furnace.
He heard the miner walk towards the door, he recognized his footsteps easily. Much different than Alex’s.
Steve cracked open the door. "Herobrine, you have perfect timing! We are just finishing up."
Herobrine tried to move forward but Steve closed the door more. He smiled, shyly. "Er. You gotta close your eyes."
"... Why?"
Steve smiled wider. "It's all part of the process."
So Herobrine huffed and closed his eyes. Steve took him by the hand. Leading him inside. Herobrine could feel his heartbeat where they connected. The miner was excited. So Herobrine was excited.
He was led into the house and then Steve stopped and walked over to join where he could sense Alex.
"Surprise!" They both yelled.
Herobrine stood there with his eyes closed. Face oozing confusion.
"Open your eyes now, Brine." Steve whispered loudly to him.
"Oh." And he did. He blinked and took in the sight.
The inside of the house was decorated with a few colored strings on the ceiling and what seemed to be little torches everywhere else. It was very simple and yet very pretty.
"Do you like it?" Alex asked.
"We didn't have too much time to decorate so we made due with what we had." Steve said. "Probably not as fancy as your aether parties."
"No." Herobrine smiled. "But I like this better." The aether parties were always decorated with too much. This was nice and made Herobrine feel cozy.
Alex gestured to the table, patting the chair to sit down. "Since it's pretty late we figured we'd just do a birthday dinner. Steve said you would eat if we made you food."
Herobrine nodded. Glad he hadn't had anything to eat for a while. He wasn't the biggest fan of eating. Steve had been reintroducing it to him slowly. The miner was an excellent cook.
"Good!" Alex smiled. Steve sat next to Herobrine at the table. "I handled dinner and Steve handled the most important part of a birthday, the dessert!"
"It all smells nice." Herobrine commented politely. It did. He was actually excited to eat.
Alex disappeared into the kitchen. Preparing plates for them all. Steve and Herobrine shared a look. Both smiling, somewhat uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. It didn't last long as Alex came out with two plates, setting it down in front of them.
The meal consisted of roasted corn, slathered in butter, some sort of shredded pork on bread with some sweet sauce, and a cold potato salad. Steve instantly dug in. Probably hungry from all the work they had been doing. Herobrine waited for Alex to return with her own plate before starting to pick at the food. It wasn't long before he was eating more sloppily than Steve. Alex apologized, saying she wanted to make something more special like a smoked biscuit but Herobrine wasn't sure why she was sorry. It was all delicious. And Herobrine found himself wanting to eat the entire plate. It was the perfect meal on the warm night.
The house was filled with the delightful sounds of eating. None of them talked very much. Not needing to. Just enjoying each other’s company. And the food! They were all very invested in the food.
Once they were done, Herobrine was tempted to ask for more. But he remembered that there was still dessert to eat. He started to try to clean up his plate. But Steve stopped him immediately. "Ah, ah. No dishes when it's your birthday."
"Hmm. This birthday business keeps getting better." Herobrine smirked at him.
Steve disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two plates filled with two generous slices of homemade chocolate cake.
He set them down in front of Alex and his own seats. "We have a special slice for you, Herobrine. Hold on."
Steve rushed away and walked slowly back with a similar piece of cake. But this one had a very tiny torch stuck in the middle of it. Herobrine blinked. Huh. Strange.
"It's a candle." Steve explained. "It's a tradition to have some on your cake. We only had this old one." He set the on fire cake in front of him. Herobrine enjoyed the fire flare. "Usually you have a candle for every year you've been alive."
"But that would've set the house on fire." Alex snickered.
Herobrine rolled his eyes and tried to grab his fork. But Alex stopped him. "Wait! We have to sing to you!"
"Er, no thanks." That seemed silly. He did not want to be sung to.
Steve made a face. "I don't like that part either. I think we should skip it."
"We have to! It's tradition!" Alex wrapped her elbow around Steve’s neck. "Come on, Stevie. One time!"
"Alright. Alright." He caved easily. And they began.
Herobrine sat awkwardly as the two sang a little song. Saying his name. Herobrine had never heard Steve sing. It was nice. He had a pleasant voice. He thought the man should sing more. He hummed a lot but never truly sang.
Once they were done. Alex said. "Now you make a wish and blow out the candle."
"A wish? Wish for what?"
"For anything." Steve added. "But you have to wish in your head. And don't tell anyone or your wish won't come true."
"Like a curse?"
"Yeah kinda. But it's just for fun."
The demon chewed on his lip. Seeming to think about it. He nodded eventually. "Okay. I've made my wish."
"Now blow out the candle to complete the spell." Alex joked. Steve nudged her.
Herobrine looked at the small torch on the cake and willed the fire away. It went out.
Alex and Steve stared. Alex giggled. "Guess there's more than one way to skin an ocelot."
"Why would you-" Herobrine blinked.
"It's an expression." Steve laughed, sitting down and picking up his fork to eat his piece of cake. "Ignore her and dig in while the cake is still warm."
Herobrine did, setting the small torch- candle aside and picking up his fork to eat. The cake looked moist. Fresh. And smelled absolutely delicious. His mouth was watering before he even put the treat in his mouth.
When he took a bite he almost moaned. "H-holy fuck." He quickly took another bite.
Alex giggled. "Never had a Steve-made cake have you?"
"Steve, you should stop cooking everything and just make cake from now on." Herobrine had almost finished his piece already. It was just so damn good. He couldn't stop.
"Then it wouldn't be special." Steve chuckled. Looking happy that they both seemed to be enjoying his cake.
"Can I have more?" Herobrine asked, frosting definitely smeared all over his face, unabashedly.
Steve and Alex howled at that. The demon just looked so different from how they normally saw him. It was nice. And also hilarious.
Herobeine got a second slice and sat back, looking full. The demon didn't usually eat so it was a lot all at once. Totally worth it though.
"Present time!" Alex jumped up from the table as Steve moved the dishes into the kitchen.
"Present time?" Herobrine parroted.
"You get presents on your birthday!" Alex walked over to grab two things that had been set aside on a coffee table. "From everyone who comes to the party."
Alex handed Steve something and walked back to the table to give Herobrine a rectangle that looked like a book wrapped in paper. Herobrine took it confused. "Er, thanks?" He held it in his hands.
"You gotta open it dude!" Alex said excitedly.
"Open it?"
"Yeah tear open the paper!"
"Oh." Herobrine, a demon of destruction, ironically opened the book very carefully. Not wanting to damage it.
He held the book up once it was unwrapped. It was, indeed, a book. Not too hard to guess correctly.
"It's a book of modern day phrases." Alex explained. Tapping the cover. She smirked. "I know that you have some trouble with some of our more modern hip lingo."
Herobrine lifted an eyebrow at her. He flipped to a random page. "There's more than one way to skin an ocelot? Oh. I get your 'joke' now."
"See. You're learning already." She snickered. Steve smiled too.
Herobrine looked confused. But not unappreciative. He waved his hand, tucking the book away into his inventory. "Er, thanks. I will read the rest later."
"No problem!" She giggled. She then pushed Steve forward. "Go ahead, your turn."
Steve had a paper package tied up in butcher's twine behind his back. He coughed and walked forward, handing Herobrine the parcel.
The demon took it. Knowing what to do now, he tore into the paper. Revealing what was inside.
He paused when he realized what it was after pulling all the paper off and letting it float to the ground.
"It's... your cloak." Herobrine said. Not giving away any emotion. Steve seemed to droop a little. Expecting him to be a little happier. Alex nudged the miner. They shared a look. Steve rolled his eyes. He walked closer to the demon, touching the cloak in his hands.
"I knew it would already fit you. And there wasn't enough time to get you a new one made. I just know how much you like to borrow it from me when it gets colder." Steve ran his fingers along the cloak. Pointing out some stitching on the green material. "I sewed up all the holes so it won't be as drafty. And-" He tapped the button that held the cloak together. "I replaced the old latch with a golden one I got from town today. I know you said you like to wear a little gold in the nether for piglin respect or... whatever." The miner let go of the cloak and backed up, rubbing his head awkwardly.
Herobrine stared at the green gloak. Rubbing the material in his fingers.
"If... if you don't like-"
"I love it." Herobrine almost whispered. Sounding so genuine it made Steve blush and Alex smile. "It's perfect."
"O-oh." Steve scratched his head again. "Good. I'm glad." He smiled, looking away. Desperately trying to hide his blush. He had gone bright red. And Herobrine wasn't helping.
The demon stood instantly and put the cloak around his body. He had worn it before. But it looked different now. Like it was his now. It was truly his.
Herobrine looked up at Steve. "This is... the greatest gift I've ever been given." He didn't smile but his glowing eyes said it all. He was absolutely telling the truth. "Thank you, Steven."
The miner stared back. Smiling to the side and tilting his head. Embarrassed but screaming on the inside in happiness.
Alex had to butt in. Not liking the way the two were looking at each other and getting a little protective of Steve. "Pfft. Thanks a lot there, Briney boy. Glad my gift meant nothing."
Herobrine blinked. Processing the words. And then realized. "Oh, no, sorry Alex. Thank you as well."
"Yeah whatever." Alex nudged him with her fist, walking past him. She then let out a yawn. "Well. I think I'm all birthday partied out. Mind if I crash on your couch, Stevie? It's too late to walk home."
"Sure I'll get you some blankets." Steve mimicked the yawn. His eyes looked tired. They did do a lot to put the party together for him. They deserved a rest. "Happy Birthday, Brine."
"Thank you." Herobrine nodded. "Thank you both. This was... enjoyable."
"See our traditions aren't so bad." Alex said, flopping down on the couch.
"I do believe I've judged it too early." Herobrine nodded. "You do this every year?"
"Yep. And you get to do the planning and gift giving to us when it's our birthdays. No party is exactly the same." Alex nodded. "I think planning is actually more fun than celebrating your own birthday."
"Oh. Well I look forward to that. You will have to remind me when the time comes. Time is... difficult for me."
"Of course, dude." Steve produced some blankets from the closet. Herobrine sensed it was time to make his leave. He headed for the door.
"Thank you again." He said a little awkwardly. "I will uh, see you both tomorrow."
"Sounds good!" "Bye!" The siblings said.
And with Herobrine out the door. Steve and Alex looked at each other.
"I think that went well." Steve said.
"I think you owe me money for not making a single birthday suit joke." Alex said back. He threw the blankets over her head as she giggled.
"Goodnight Alex!" He went to his bedroom, trying to hide his blush. "Put out the candles before you sleep."
"I'm just saying, Stevie! That would've been a better gift if you-"
"Goodnight Alex!!"
Herobrine stood just outside the door. He wiggled his shoulders a little. Feeling the soft weight of the cloth around his shoulders. He smiled. Feeling warm inside and out. And teleported off.
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beauvibaby · 3 years
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Anthony Beauvillier – First Christmas
• living across the hall from Anthony Beauvillier has its perks, and thanksgiving is where it all changes •
word count: 8.6k
warnings: brief mention of death, and like two innuendos of sex (barely)
You returned from the grocery store, having an odd pep in your step despite the chaos you had just endured to get your hands on this turkey for thanksgiving in just a few short days. You looked around your apartment, sure, you had some harvest decor up, but with the way it was already so chilly outside, and the hallmark Christmas movies being a nightly routine of yours. You decided you wanted to decorate, sure, it was a little early, but you wanted the extra cheer, and you knew your family would love it when they came over for thanksgiving, your first year hosting–come to think of it, maybe you were decorating to ignore the stress of that responsibility. So you changed into some comfier clothes, slipping your fuzzy slippers on and hauling your decor out of the closet, only a few bins since it was a relatively small apartment, but your tree was your prized possession. It looked like it came out of a catalog, but still felt homey, and you adored that. You quickly changed out the wreath on the outside of the front door, you heard the elevator open as you slid the fall colored wreath off, and began struggling to get the large Christmas wreath to stay on the hook, you heard a couple of pairs of feet walking down the hall, you stole a glance.
“Hi, Anthony.” You smiled softly, he was a nice enough neighbor, always polite, sometimes he could be a little flirty, but you always brushed it off, knowing his status, you attributed it to him being able to get whatever girl he wants. “Hi, Y/N.” He responded with a small wave, holding in a chuckle as he and his friend, Mat, you think, watched you struggle. “I think that wreath is a little too big, don’t you?” Anthony finally cracked, grabbing the fall one from you, “besides, isn’t it a little early to decorate?” He added, you finally found the tie you’d weaved into the wreath and secured it to the hook. “One, it is not too big, and two, it is never too early to decorate for Christmas.” You gasped, taking the fall wreath back from him, crossing your arms dramatically, with a huff. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a tree to put up.” You smiled dramatically shutting the door, cringing when you heard the wreath fall on to the ground. A soft knock following, you looked out the peephole and saw Anthony holding it with a teasing smile. “Just put it on the hook, Anthony!” You shouted through the door, “for the last time, call me, Tito!” He groaned, putting the wreath on the hook and walking off with his friend.
***
“Mom!” You gasped into the phone the second she answered, “well happy thanksgiving to you too.” She giggled, “my oven won’t turn on!” You groaned, it was time for you to be putting the turkey in the oven, along with the green bean casserole, “is it the cooktop too? Or just the actual oven?” Your mom questioned, you scrambled to turn the burners on, watching as they glowed bright red emitting the heat instantly. “Just the oven.” You sniffled in annoyance, why couldn’t this just go right. “Oh honey, don’t cry, we can just get takeout.” She assured you, “my first time hosting and it was a huge fail.” You groaned, before an idea popped into your head, a crazy idea–but an idea nonetheless. “I’ll call you back, mom, I have an idea!” You rushed to hang up the phone. Quickly, you dabbed the tears from your eyes and smoothed out your shirt before confidently walking across the hall to the door you’d only knocked on once, and that was to ask him to keep it down. You lifted your hand and hesitated, “ok, here goes nothing.” You whispered before giving three soft knocks, you heard movement from inside, followed by the lock turning. “Y/N?” Anthony cocked his head to the side, sweatpants and a t-shirt covering his frame. “Uh, hi.” You spoke nervously, he smiled at your clearly nervous demeanor, “everything ok?” He questioned, “I thought your family was coming over today?” He added, shocking you that he even remembered that you told him that nearly two weeks ago. “Oh-uh-they are, but I have a little problem.” You rocked on your feet, he motioned for you to continue, as he leaned against the door frame. “My oven won’t turn on.” You blurted, he stared blankly at you, not picking up on what you were insinuating. “Can I use your oven? If you don’t have any plans, and you’re more than welcome to join us, it’s the least I could do, really.” You rambled, not daring to meet his eyes, he let out a soft laugh. “I hope you don’t make a dry turkey.” He opened the door, silently inviting you in. “Oh, thank you, thank you!” You cheered, resisting the urge to hug him. “You just saved my thanksgiving.” You sighed in relief, rushing over to your apartment as he laughed boyishly at your excitement. You came back with a turkey, already bagged and ready to cook, easily walking into his kitchen as his apartment mirrored yours.
You quickly set his oven to preheat to the correct temperature, taking the chance to look around, his apartment was a lot cleaner than you figured a bachelor nhl player would keep it. “Did you need any help? I’m no chef, but I think I can be of some use.” He laughed approaching you, “no, I’ve got it, thank you, again, so much.” You sighed, smiling at him. “I don’t want to impose, you know, I don’t have to join you.” He laughed a little nervously. Your eyes shot up at him, “you wouldn’t be imposing! It’s the least I could do, you’re lending me your kitchen for goodness sakes.” You gasped, feeling your phone buzz in your pocket, your mom asking if you figured anything out. You quickly told her you got it under control, and that your neighbor would be joining you, to which she simply sent a thumbs up. “So who am I then? The crazy neighbor next door that let a girl use his kitchen to cook? That’s a long title to introduce.” Anthony quipped, sitting on the edge of his counter, legs dangling in front of the cabinet. “No, you’re Tito, the nice guy across the hall.” You shrugged, missing the way his lips turned up at the use of his nickname. “Wow, you can actually listen.” He joked, you blushed under his gaze, “don’t get used to it, you're doing me a favor, I figured I’d use your nickname for once.” You teased lightly, watching the way he threw his head back in laughter. “Oh my god, you didn’t have any plans did you?” The thought suddenly hit you, he shook his head, “no, I’m off today, figured I’d be lazy, but who am I to turn down good food.” He spoke softly, watching as guilt flashed in your eyes, “don’t worry about it, Y/N. It’ll be fun, I’ve never met a girls parents that I wasn’t dating.” He joked, earning an eye roll from you. “Who’s coming?” He tilted his head to the side again, asking the question with a small hint of concern, for some reason unknown to him, he wanted to leave a good impression, even if he just was ‘Tito the nice guy across the hall’.
You let out a nervous laugh, “my mom, dad, grandma, uncle, my brother, sister in law and two nieces.” With every name you listed off his eyes grew wider, “oh.” He laughed softly, at least I’m good with kids, he thought to himself. Surely that would be an easy way to impress your family. “Oh, and you should know, my grandma doesn’t really speak English.” You added, grimacing when his face fell, “she speaks Italian, but she’ll try to talk in English for you.” You explained, nervously shrugging, the oven finally being warm enough for the turkey, you slid it in, setting a timer on the oven and your phone, “um, so I’ll just come back when it’s time to put the green beans in?” You asked, shifting awkwardly. “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.” Tito smiled, “thank you, Tito.” You responded, walking past him as you felt his eyes on you, “anytime, Y/N.”
Two hours later and here you were walking into his apartment with a casserole dish full of green beans, you didn’t see him in the living room, so you assumed he was in his room, you simply went to the oven, adding the green beans to the lower rack, smiling at how well the turkey was cooking, your family would be here in about an hour, and you had the mashed potatoes, gravy and anything else ready to be cooked on your stovetop. You were setting a new timer when you heard footsteps, Tito standing frozen in the hallway, a towel wrapped low around his hips. “Oh, I’m sorry!” You gasped looking away when you eyed him for too long. “It’s ok, sorry, I didn’t know you were out here.” He apologized, laughing nervously as he turned, being sure to hold his towel tightly in place, you stole a glance as he rushed back down the hall, you knew he was attractive, but he was even more so than you thought. He came back out a moment later with jeans on as he buttoned up a short sleeve shirt, his chain laying against his chest, you bit your lip at the sight before coming to your senses. “You clean up nice, Beauvillier.” You teased, watching as his eyes snapped up at the use of his last name. He smirked, “so you did look me up.” He pointed out, watching as you blushed bright red under his gaze. “Me? No, I would never.” You joked, “listen, I had to make sure my new neighbor wasn’t a serial killer.” You defended, earning a deep chuckle from him, something that was quickly becoming your new favorite sound. “I thought you weren’t a hockey fan.” He reminded you, this time instead of smirking when you blushed, he smiled, if he had even a part of the reason why you were suddenly watching hockey, it made him happy. “I watch your games, that’s it.” You admitted, “really?” He gasped, walking towards the kitchen, peeking through the window on the oven door, “looks good.” He added, smoothing out his shirt. He looked over your outfit, “is the dress code sweatpants?” He teased, only then did you realize you were still in your house clothes. “No,” you paused to laugh, “I’m going to go get ready now, I’ll be back for those when the timer goes off!” You called already making your way out the door. “Have fun!” Tito called in response as you shut his front door, a smile lingering on his face.
The timer on your phone went off and you silently cursed as you were trying to get the zipper up on the simple burgundy dress you put on, of course, it was just family there was no reason to dress up, but it was a tradition really, all of you always put on something at least a little nicer. You turned the timer off on your phone and rushed across the hall, walking right in, like this was a normal occurrence, Tito was in the kitchen pulling the pans out of the oven for you. “Thank you.” You sighed in relief, afraid the green beans would’ve started to burn by now, he finally looked over at you, his eyes lingering on the dress. “Yeah-“ he cleared his throat, “yeah no problem.” He stood up straight, shutting the oven door. “Uh, do you mind zipping this for me?” You asked sheepishly, sweeping your hair over one shoulder, he nodded and you turned your back to him, feeling goosebumps litter your skin as he pulled the zipper up slowly, his breath fanning over the back of your neck. “There you go.” He whispered, hesitating to step away, but so did you, finally you heard commotion out in the hall and realized your family must be outside your door, “thank you.” You cleared your throat, all but jumping away from him. You each grabbed pot holders and began making your way to the door, somehow you opened it with your elbow, smiling at your family that was huddled around the door. “It’s open, go on in.” You encouraged them, seeing the way they looked at Tito behind you. They pushed open the door to your apartment, your nieces instantly rushing to the couch where they knew you’d have a Christmas movie set up for them to watch, your dad held the door open for everyone as you filed in, “thanks.” You sighed, rushing to the kitchen to set down the green beans, Tito right behind you, desperate to set down the turkey that was growing heavier by the second.
You scrambled around to introduce everyone to Anthony, to which he kept saying, “call me Tito.” And everyone chuckled, your grandma whispered to you, once she heard his name, asking if he was Italian, you giggled and told her no. She grumbled, making her way to her seat but still being kind nonetheless.
Your dad helped you cut the turkey, asking question after question about Tito, “I’m not dating him, stop it. He just let me use his oven.” You snapped lightly, your dad nudged you with his shoulder, “well then don’t get so defensive.” He teased, washing his hands after finally getting the turkey carved.
You looked out into the living room, seeing your brother and Tito talking like they were the best of friends, your nieces occasionally walking up to him and asking something. You smiled at the sight, your mother catching your gaze, “he’s cute.” She commented, you shot her a look, “what? I’m just making a statement.” She put her hands up in defense, laughing when you sighed, knowing she was implying more than that. “Time to eat!” You called, everyone forming a line through the kitchen, you laughed at the site, saving yourself for last. You grabbed a plate and stood behind your grandma, Anthony glanced and saw the two of you, he frowned and moved behind you. “What are you doing? You can go before me.” You whispered, he shook his head, “ladies first.” He mumbled, placing a hand on your back when you went to move around him. “Are you sure?” You questioned, moving forward as your grandma did, “positive.” He whispered, watching as your grandma turned to the two of you. “Y/N, puoi fare il mio piatto, tesoro? Sono stanco.”(can you make my plate, sweetheart? I’m tired.) She asked solemnly, “si, vai a sederti, un po 'di tutto?” (Yes, go sit, a little of everything?) you responded, setting your plate down and taking the one from her, she nodded, hobbling over to the table with her cane. You frowned to yourself, “sorry, let me just make her plate real quick.” You apologized to Tito, he shook his head, “no rush.” He smiled softly, going as far as to take her plate from you and bring it to her when you were done, so you could make your own.
You smiled when he returned, “thank you, you didn’t have to.” You whispered, again, he placed a hand on your back, this time you felt his thumb move back and forth for a moment, “it’s ok, I don’t mind.” He assured you, patiently waiting until you were done to make his plate and join everyone at the table, of course, the only seat being open was next to you. Dinner went on perfectly, everyone having a good time and chatting, you definitely took notice to how much your nieces liked Tito, the sight along warming your heart. By the time the night was over, you’d had a couple glasses of wine, your face shaded pink from the alcohol, and your family was making their way out while Tito lingered behind, “let me help you clean up.” He insisted, “no!” You refused, he’d done to much already. “Y/N.” He deadpanned, “Anthony.” You mimicked, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’ve done too much, I can’t let you do this.” You added, pushing him out of your kitchen, he chuckled, letting you think you were actually moving him, when we all know he was just walking himself. “You’re very stubborn.” He pointed out when you reached your doorway. You rolled your eyes, hesitating for a moment, you pushed up on your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, “thank you, Tito. It was nice having you over.” You whispered, leaning away, but still staying close to his face, god, how he wanted to kiss your wine stained lips, and stay with you even if it meant washing dishes together, he just found you contagious–and he wanted more. But he didn’t kiss your lips, he didn’t want to scare you off, he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, your eyes fluttered shut at the delicate action, you wanted to melt into his arms and tell him to never stop. “Goodnight, Y/N.” He mumbled, and just like that he was back across the hall in his own apartment, leaving you there to touch your forehead, shocked that he had just done that, little did you know he was doing the same to where your leftover lipstick stained his cheek.
***
It was the weekend after thanksgiving and you were anxiously waiting for it to be time for the islanders game, despite there still being a couple of hours until then, there was a soft knock on your door and you walked over, looking through the peephole but seeing no one, you opened the door, looking to see if you’d gotten a package and you couldn’t help but laugh as you saw an islanders jersey folded on your door mat, a note on top of it, what you didn’t know was Tito was watching you through the peephole of his apartment door. A smile covering his face as you bent down to grab the material, hugging it to your body as you read the note,
“Hopefully this fuels on your new hockey obsession!”
You let out a genuine laugh, glancing over at his door, shaking your head with a laugh, you unfolded the jersey, smile widening when you saw his name sprawled across the back.
You changed into it when you got inside, smiling at how the material was baggy on your frame, you laughed softly, taking a mirror photo, daring maybe, but you had gotten his number after thanksgiving, so you figured, why not use it. You sent the photo,
“It fits like a glove–a very oversized baggy glove”
He read the message nearly instantly, making your heart race,
“I think it looks better on you than it does on me”
“Are you flirting with me, Tito?”
His response was quick,
“So you finally noticed.”
“Good luck tonight! I’ll be rooting for you”
You locked your phone after you sent your response, looking up in your mirror to see your red cheeks looking back at you. A fluttering feeling in your stomach at the thought of him even being remotely interested in you. Making your way into the kitchen, a thought popped into your headed, you had already planned on doing some baking, why not make a few extra for the cute guy across the hall, you laughed to yourself but started your adventure, setting aside a mix of cookies for him, you’d bring them and leave them on his doorstep when the game was over, so they wouldn’t be sitting out there for too long. You changed the TV to the hockey channel, listening to them talk about what was to come while you baked, your ears perking up everytime they mentioned Anthony. The time flew and before you knew it the game was over, the islanders winning by only one point, but it was still a win, you grabbed the container, sticking a post it note to the top,
“I’m free on Friday.”
Daring, most definitely, but you felt bold, a connection between the two of you that you thought only happened in movies. You set the tin on his doormat, knowing he wasn’t home yet, but still you smiled, making your way back home and giving one last glance to the Christmas themed container sitting there.
When you woke up, you were surprised to see two messages from Tito, a smile forcing its way onto your face.
“I’ll pick you up at five on Friday, dress warm”
“Holy shit, Y/N, these cookies are amazing!”
You laughed at his second message,
“See you then!”
A giddy feeling filling your stomach at the thought of what you would be doing Friday.
***
Friday came quicker than you thought it would, which was a win in your book, you were finishing up the laces on your boots when Anthony knocked on your door. You stood up, giving yourself one more look in the mirror, your outfit was nothing special, skinny jeans, a pretty blouse that was currently being covered by your thick coat, a blush scarf around your neck, and the boots with a small heel on them, but you looked good. You opened the door, smiling at Anthony, “hi.” You spoke, watching him give you a once over, “hi.” He repeated, pulling flowers out from behind his back, “oh, they’re so pretty!” You gasped, taking them from his outstretched hand, “thank you.” You added as he followed you inside as you went to put them in a vase before you left. “Of course.” He grinned, “you look beautiful.” He added, you glanced down at your outfit and back at him, seeing nothing but sincerity in his eyes, “you clean up pretty well yourself.” You laughed, looking at his dark jeans and long tan coat, a black scarf around his neck. “I try.” He posed, making you laugh when you glanced over at him. “Where are we going?” You questioned, setting the vase on the counter, flipping the lights off as you made your way towards him. “It’s a surprise.” He retorted, following behind you, “oooh, a surprise.” You smiled at him, “it’s going to be kind of a long car ride though, I hope you don’t mind.” He suddenly looked nervous, “that’s ok, I can make small talk with you, Tito.” You teased softly, not feeling nervous for this date at all, it was easy to be around him.
The car ride was long, but you quickly figured out you were going into the city, a smile gracing your face when you found out why, “you didn’t.” You gasped as the car pulled to a stop at the side of the road, the Rockefeller tree just to the left of you, “I did.” He smiled happily, following you as you rushed to climb out of the car, “Anthony, this is too much. You didn’t have to bring me all the way out here.” You suddenly felt guilty as he paid for the ride, that couldn’t have been cheap. “Shush, I wanted to, I wanted it to be special.” He mumbled sheepishly, you hugged your coat tighter to yourself, smiling up at him. “I love it.” You assured him, pulling your gloves on your hands, him doing the same before making the move to lace your fingers together, you didn’t hesitate to do it, smiling at the way your hand fit in his. “I figured we could go skating, and maybe grab something to eat if you’re hungry.” He explained, watching the way your eyes lit up as you looked at the giant tree, you nodded wordlessly, “yes, yeah, whatever you want to do.” You breathed out, eyes focused on the tree in front of you, “I haven’t been able to come see this in years.” You added, glancing over at him to find him staring right at you, “it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You asked, looking back to the tree, and seeing the people down below skating around the rink, “it’s gorgeous.” He answered, barely looking at the tree before stepping closer to you. “I should tell you now, I’m definitely not the best skater.” You laughed nervously, watching as a couple down on the ice struggled to skate together. “That’s ok, I think I can manage.” He joked, laughing when you rolled your eyes, “don’t be a show off, it’s not attractive.” You retorted, smiling when he squeezed your hand a little tighter as a brush of wind came through, your hair flipping in front of your face. He pushed it back, leaving his hand in your cheek for a minute, “what do you say? You gonna show me those skating skills.” He spoke, moving his hand away, you shivered at the loss of contact, “yeah.” You whispered, allowing him to lead the way.
“Anthony!” You shrieked when he dropped your hand as you got on the ice, “I’m right here.” He laughed, skating backwards slowly in front of you, “stop.” You pouted, reaching out for his hands as you struggled to catch your footing, it’s been a long time since you’d done this. “I won’t let you fall.” He assured you, grabbing your hands as you looked panicked. “I got you.” He added, meeting your eyes, the smile on his face being contagious as you looked at him. “Promise?” You teased, slowly pushing off on your skates, he easily met your pace, glancing behind him every once in a while. “Promise.” He spoke sincerely, rubbing his thumbs over the tops of your hands as you slowly became more confident in your abilities. “How embarrassing, I’m on a date with Long Island royalty and I can barely skate.” You joked, he shook his head, releasing one of your hands and moving to be beside you, “I’m not royalty, and you’re doing good babe.” The word fell from his mouth, he looked away in embarrassment. “Thanks.” You giggled, easing his nerves, gripping him harder when you came up to the curve, he laughed, easily guiding you, and he was right, he didn’t let you fall once. On the ice at least.
You were walking down the sidewalk, to a little restaurant on the corner, when your boot hit a patch of icy snow, your foot swinging up and out from under you, Anthony’s hold on your hand not doing much but keeping you from fully smacking your head on the sidewalk. You yelped as your butt landed hard on the cement, your shoulders following but thankfully keeping your head up. “Shit, Y/N, are you ok?” Anthony was kneeling beside you instantly, helping you sit up, “are you ok?” He asked again, brushing your arms off, you nodded stifling back a laugh at his concern, also using it to hide the pain you were feeling on your butt. “Ouch,” you whispered, standing up with his help, brushing off your legs, “yeah, I’m fine.” You spoke, catching his concerned gaze. “I’m sorry, oh my god.” He laughed nervously, you shrugged, “it’s not your fault.” You assured him, walking off the pain, laughing when he walked a lot closer to you this time. “Do you still want to go eat? I can just take you home.” He rushed, seeing the small limp in your walk, “no, no, I want to go eat, don’t worry.” You turned to him, resting a hand on his chest, “I’m ok, promise.” You whispered, the wind coming through again, blowing his scarf up a little, covering his jaw, you pushed it down, letting your hand linger there. You pushed yourself up, his hands going to your waist to steady you as he brushed his lips against yours. “Kiss me.” You breathed out, his lips on yours a second later, he moved one of his hands to your cheek, rubbing it affectionately, sighing into the kiss. You finally pulled away to breathe, a smile on your face, your eyes opening slowly to find him already smiling down at you. “So, food?” He asked, watching as you tipped your head back in laughter, you couldn’t help but steal another quick kiss, “food, but I’m paying.” You demanded, he’d already paid for so much, there was no way you were letting him pay for food too. “What? No!” He gasped, walking beside you, an arm over your shoulders, “no I’m paying.” He deadpanned, “you paid for skating, and the ride up here.” You reminded him, and he looked at you with raised brows, “so?” He quipped, “that’s too much!” You whined, looking up at him with a pout, “no it’s not!” He groaned, “just let me be a gentleman.” He demanded, teasingly rolling his eyes at you.
“Fine, then I’m paying for the next date.” You gave in, and he smiled at you, “so you’re saying there will be another date?” He teased, you nodded, “at least so I can pay for it.” You giggled, blushing at his next response, “oh, I think there will be a lot more than just two dates.”
***
You stepped out of the elevator as it dinged, of course, of course Tito had to be getting ready for a game right now, you wiped at the tears on your face, wishing you could see your boyfriend of only a couple of weeks, the two of you being inseparable whenever you were both not working, thankfully your schedule was pretty set in stone so you always knew when you’d be off. You took a shaky breath as you struggled to unlock your front door, mind racing at what just happened, your grandma going to the hospital for a simple nose bleed, unable to get it to stop, to now, her being moved into a hospice center because her heart was failing. It all happened so quick, you’d spent the whole day by her side, calling out of work the second your mom called and told you what happened. You finally got the key in your door, letting the tears fall freely again, your phone ringing in your pocket, you were afraid to check it. You shakily pulled it out, unsure if you should be relieved or nervous that Tito was calling you. They were about to play the rangers, and you knew it was a big deal, but you couldn’t make it to the game, you had completely forgotten that he was going to call you beforehand.
“Hello?” You tried to speak evenly into the phone, “hi, baby.” Tito breathed out, his nerves melting away as he heard your voice, the pet names came easy for him, the second you two decided that you were really going to do this, he hardly used your name anymore. You were a little slow to use them on him, not used to having a guy that adored you that much. “Are you getting ready for the game?” You asked, thankful that he hadn’t caught on to your slightly rough voice. “Yes, I just wanted to call you first. You’re going to watch right?” He asked jokingly, of course you were going to watch. “Of course I am, I’m going to get my jersey right now.” You laughed softly, enjoying the soothing sound of his voice. “Will you be home tonight?” You asked, thinking maybe you might try and stay up to see him. “Yeah, I shouldn’t be too late, we’ll be coming home right after.” He explained shortly, you heard some people talking in the background. “I’ve gotta go, I’ll talk to you later.” He spoke softly, “good luck, babe.” You mumbled, those words being the best thing he’d heard all day. “Thank you.” And with that, you hung up the phone.
You showered the stress of your day away, slipping into the jersey and a pair of leggings, settling in on your couch, flipping to the channel for the game, indulging in a bowl of ice cream as it started. Your phone lit up, once again, except this time it was your mom, and not Tito, your breathing hitched, you waited until the last second to answer the call. “Hi, mom.” You whispered, her muffled sniffles telling you all you need to know. “I’m sorry.” You sighed, letting your own tears fall silently, “do you want me to come back to the city?” You asked her, having just made the exhausting trip back out here. “No, you need to rest, honey. I’ll call you in the morning with the details.” She sighed, your father talking to her in the background, “I love you.” She added, “I love you too mom.” You mumbled, hanging up the phone, looking up to the TV screen as the second period began, you curled further into the couch, watching the game, but not really watching as your mind wandered.
When the game finished, you were still wide awake, and you knew sleep wouldn’t be coming over you anytime soon. So you did what popped into your mind, you slipped on some fuzzy Christmas socks, and went and sat in front of Tito’s door, resting your head on your arms that held your knees tucked up under your chin. You knew it would still be an hour or so until he was home, but you didn’t care, you wanted–you needed to see him. But what you didn’t expect was that you’d end up getting hit with exhaustion as you sat leaning against the door, you buried your face in your arms, hair falling to the side.
When Tito stepped off the elevator, he had his eyes on his phone, concerned as you hadn’t answered his texts, then he looked over at his door, stopping in his tracks as he saw you asleep, a pout being pushed on your lips from how you were laying against your arms. He could tell you had been crying, he slipped his phone back into his pocket, taking a few large steps over to you, he unlocked his door before waking you up. He kneeled on the ground in front of you, running a hand through your hair. “Y/N?” He spoke softly, not wanting to scare you. “Baby.” He spoke again, gently placing a hand on your shoulder, you stirred, wincing as you lifted your head, a kink in your neck from sleeping like that. “Tito?” You croaked out, a fresh set of tears brimming, “hey, shh, what’s wrong?” He murmured, cupping your cheeks. “My grandma.” You sniffled, looking at him with wide eyes, his face fell. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, knowing now wasn’t the time to ask questions, if you wanted to talk about it, you would. “Can I come inside?” You mumbled, leaning into his hands as he wiped under your eyes, “of course you can.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before helping you to your feet. He pushed his door open, holding it in place for you to step inside, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to greet you like this.” You sighed, wiping at your eyes, he shook his head, pulling you in for a hug. “Don’t apologize, it’s alright.” He shushed you, running a hand over your hair, “did you want to stay here tonight?” He offered, “not like that, obviously, unless you want that–if you don’t want to be alone, I don’t know.” He stuttered over his words, you silenced him with a kiss, a hand going into his hair. “Please.” You whimpered, barely pulling away, “please what?” He breathed out, rubbing your back, “please, both.” You pulled him back in, allowing him to guide you to his bedroom.
When you woke up the next morning, you had to take a second to remember what exactly happened, but it all came rushing back when you heard Tito snore softly from behind you. His hand resting on your stomach, arm draped over your side, you didn’t regret what happened at all, but you still felt a little self conscious as you realized you only had on a shirt and underwear. You rolled to face him, smiling at the peaceful look on his face, you reached up to push his hair from his forehead, leaning in closer to him, feeling him squeeze you a little tighter at the action. “Good morning.” He whispered, voice raspy, the tips of his fingers slipping under the shirt to rub circles into your skin. “Good morning.” You repeated, sighing as he pressed a kiss to your temple, “how are you?” He murmured, keeping his eyes on yours, “better.” You answered truthfully, fluttering your eyes shut when nudged your nose with his, kissing you quickly. “I’ve got a question.” He announced, smiling when you hummed, resting your head on his chest as he rolled to his back, “the Islanders have a Christmas event coming up, and I wanted to know if you would go with me?” He sounded nervous, you pressed a chaste kiss to his neck, “of course I’ll go, but isn’t that kind of a big deal to bring me?” You whispered, picking at the sheet hanging over his hips. “I wouldn’t want to bring anyone else.” His words made your heart skip a beat, you sat up, looking at him with a grin. “I’ll need help picking something to wear.” You spoke, making his nerves melt away, “I think I can help with that.” He winked.
***
“Oh–wow, you look, wow.” Tito gasped as you opened your door, the dark emerald dress looking even better than he remembered, “it’s not too much, right?” You questioned, afraid you’d be to over dressed, but that should really be a concern, considering he was in a tuxedo. “No, baby, it’s perfect, you look phenomenal.” He pulled you in for a quick kiss, “thank you, handsome.” You whispered, lacing your hand with his, pulling your coat on, “can you believe Christmas is only a week away!” Tito gasped, watching as your face lit up, “I know, I’m excited!” You cheered, “but I’m nervous to meet your family.” You added, stepping into the elevator, he furrowed his brows, “don’t be nervous, they’ll love you.” He gave you a reassuring squeeze, “don’t add any more pressure, now I’ll be upset if they don’t love me.” You giggled, watching as his skin flushed under your gaze, he just gave you a subtle eye roll and a kiss to your hairline before guiding you to the taxi.
Walking into the event only made you feel further out of place. Tito quickly introduced you to some of the other girls so you at least had someone else to speak with, but you still stayed glued to his side for a while, uneasy about the setting. “Are you alright?” He whispered as you nursed the champagne flute you’d picked up right away, you shot him a smile, “yeah, I’m alright, I’ll go sit with the girls, you go do what you have to do, yeah?” You offered, he hesitated before he nodded, sending you off with a delicate kiss. You took your spot with the other ladies, quickly bonding with Sydney, your personalities meshing instantly. “How long have you known Tito?” She asked, resting her jaw in her hand, “six months?” You answered, doing the math mentally, “yeah, I met him the day I moved in, but we didn’t really start talking until thanksgiving.” You added, watching as she looked at you with wide eyes, “wait, really?” She gaped at you, making you concerned, “is something wrong?” You questioned, glancing behind her as her husband approached. “He’s been talking about you since before thanksgiving, I just assumed you two had been dating this whole time.” She explained, Matt raising his eyebrows from behind her, nodding in agreement. “Oh.” You shifted in your seat, feeling put on the spot, “that’s a good thing, I promise!” Sydney assured you, Matt resting a hand on her shoulder, startling her. “Yeah, he’s totally in love with you.” Matt shrugged, making you choke on your drink, he clearly hadn’t heard the length of your relationship, Sydney elbowed him lightly, whispering in his ear and he went wide eyed. “Oops?” His voice went up an octave, sitting down beside his wife. “I mean it’s fine, right? It’s not like he’s rushing you.” Matt tried to mend the situation but it only made you feel more pressure, like you had to feel the same way right now, and you knew you would in time, the relationship between the two of you building so quickly, it felt like you knew him for years. But knowing he was so seemingly in love with you already, made you nervous, like somehow you’d scare him off. “Excuse me.” You stood up abruptly, needing to get some space, “good going, Matt!” You heard Sydney chastise her husband as you walked off, in search of anywhere that wasn’t crowded with people.
You rounded the corner and spotted a relatively empty hallway, leaning against the wall you let out a deep breath, calming yourself, you stayed like that for a few minutes before deciding to go find Tito before he began to worry. When you walked back towards the table you saw him sitting beside your seat, he didn’t seem nervous at all, so you’re assuming Sydney covered for you. Another deep breath as you approached, putting a smile on your face when you reached them, “hi.” You smiled at your boyfriend, smoothing your dress as you sat down. “Hi, baby.” He rested a hand on your knee under the table, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. Sydney shot you a wink when he wasn’t looking and you let out a breath of relief, the rest of the night going off without a hitch.
***
“It is not funny!” You whined as you were helping Tito decorate his tree last minute, his exact words were “if I don’t have a tree for Christmas my mom just might kill me” you laughed at his dramatics, but you agreed to help, knowing it would be a good time together. “It is funny.” He retorted, helping you pick the garland flakes from your hair, he thought it would be entertaining to pull some off of the extra strands and throw it at you. It’s safe to say you weren’t amused. “I thought you’d like it, Christmas is your favorite holiday after all.” He teased, kissing your pout, laughing when you pulled him back in. “If you keep that up we’ll never finish this tree.” He mumbled against you, his hands sliding down your back. “Ah-ah, no, we have to finish, your parents are coming tomorrow.” You tsked, laughing when he gave you a quick pat anyways, “I didn’t say anything about after.” You reminded him, giving him an incentive to finish decorating. “Oh, it’s on.” He rushed over to what you had deemed his side of the tree, “whoever finishes last has to make dinner.” He smirked, and you just gave him a blank stare, “we both know if you lose you’re just going to order takeout.” You laughed at him, to which he nodded in agreement, pushing his glasses up his nose, smiling at you as you stood on your side of the tree. “Three, two, one!” You counted down, the tree was already lit and you’d already done the garland so now it was only placing ornaments, and you knew you’d beat him at it.
He was sloppily hanging them to fill the gaps in the tree, meanwhile you were taking your time–carefully placing each ornament, the prettiest sides out, and you still finished before him, he looked at you flabbergasted when you stepped back and announced your completion. “How are you? Oh my god.” He looked at your side of the tree, seeing the ornaments perfectly adorning your side of the tree. “How do you do that?” He pouted, pulling you over to his side to help, “I’m gonna go order Chinese.” He mumbled, kissing your cheek, sending you into a fit of giggles as you blended the two sides of the tree together. You heard him talking on the phone, rambling off some numbers from the menu, you giggled to yourself, thinking of how many times he’s called the restaurant. You took a moment, looking at the photo of Anthony and his brother as a child on an ornament, shocked by the amount of sentimental ones he had. You looked around the tree, taking the time now to admire it, your fingers running over the ornaments, you spotted one that was facing the wrong way, you took it off the tree and turned it to face you, gasping softly at the framed ornament of you and Tito from your first date, a picture you’d take in front of the Rockefeller tree before making your way back to your apartment. “That was supposed to be a surprise.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, “well then you shouldn't have put it on the tree when you know your girlfriend is a perfectionist.” You sighed, leaning into his hold, he hugged you a little tighter, “that’s one of the reasons I-“ his voice dropped off, you glanced back at him, carefully hanging the ornament back on the tree, he stayed frozen in place as you turned to face him.
“Babe, it’s one of the reasons you what?” You whispered, arms wrapping around his neck, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. “You can say it.” You added after he stayed silent, staring at you intently. “It’s one of the reasons I love you.” He all but breathed out, you tugged him in for a kiss, he sighed in relief, pulling you impossibly closer, “I love you, Anthony.” You mumbled, he rolled his eyes at the use of his name. “I love you, oh god I can finally say it.” He grinned, pulling you along with him to the couch, you laughed as he laid you down on it, “we’ve got food coming, bub.” You laughed, tilting your head to the side as he kissed down your neck. “It’s snowing, they’ll be slow, we’ve got time.” He muttered against you, smiling when you laughed at his words, but you made no effort to stop him.
Christmas Eve was here, and so were Tito’s parents, you could hear them the second you stepped out of your apartment, your stomach twisting into a knot. Your hand lifting to knock on the door, you could hear Tito chuckle from inside, “come in!” He called, exactly what you told him not to do. “Hello!” You spoke loudly into the apartment, pushing the door open, instantly met with Tito’s bright blue eyes looking over from the kitchen, his parents turning from their spot on the stools at the island. You smiled kindly at them, making your way over to them, “hi, I’m Y/N.” You held your hand out for his mother, who scoffed and stood, pulling you into a hug, relief rushing over you at her mind gesture. His dad did the same, “it’s nice to meet you, Y/N. We’ve heard so much about you.” He spoke softly, much like Tito would do sometimes. You walked around to greet your boyfriend quickly, also sticking the wine you brought into the chiller. “All good things, I hope.” You joked, earning a scoff from Tito as he checked on the food he was cooking. “Only good things.” His mom assured, smiling when her son kissed the side of your head in passing. You fell into easy conversation with them, all four of you laughing throughout the day, you were grateful to get this time with them today, considering tomorrow you would be an hour away visiting your own family. Of course, Tito was a little disappointed, but it was all still new to you guys, and you hadn’t had time to plan accordingly, but you swore up and down you’d go straight to his apartment when you got home Christmas night, the two of you saving your gifts for then.
“I’ll be right back!” Tito called to his parents, walking you across the hall, much to your laughter filled dismay. “Wow, look, I made it safely, all thanks to you.” You teased him, he let out a breathy laugh, leaning down to kiss you. “I love you.” He murmured, “Merry Christmas, baby.” He added, not wanting to let go of you. “Merry Christmas, bubs.” You grinned, “I love you too.” You added, giving him a few more short pecks, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” You assured him, “and then you get to give me my gift.” You teased, finally getting a genuine smile out of him. “Mhm, can’t wait.” He gave you one more peck before forcing himself to go into his apartment, shooting you a wink as he shut the door. This boy would be the death of you.
***
You stepped off the elevator, arms full of the gifts you’d been given by your family earlier today, you were happily surprised to see Tito already standing outside your door. “Want some help?” He teased, taking a couple of items from you, “Merry Christmas.” You giggled, unlocking your door, “Merry Christmas.” He repeated, a grin covering his face as he walked in, your present from him being dragged along as well. You set down the items on your table before turning to your boyfriend, greedily kissing him, “if they asked me where you were one more time I would’ve gone insane.” You groaned, he laughed pulling away from you. “Sorry baby.” He murmured, kissing all over your face, laughing at your protests. “Can I give you your gift first?” You asked giddily, he nodded and set your present down on the coffee table as you told him to sit on the couch. He listened and smiled when you pulled the single box out from under the tree, running over to him like a little kid. You sat beside him, eyeing him as he shook the box, “just open it!” You whined, nudging his shoulder, he pulled your legs across his lap before tearing open the small box. You watched him raise an eyebrow as he popped it open, it was possibly a silly gift, but you figured with the amount of times he had to wear a suit for work, why not give him a little something. He grinned, looking at the cuff links, them being shaped as the number 14, your apartment number, “I love it.” Tito whispered, leaning over to kiss you, “thank you, baby.” He smiled, before handing you yours, it was quite large, but very thin, leaving you confused.
You eyed him, “I saw you looking at them…” he trailed off as you peeled the paper away, your hand shooting to your mouth. A framed poster of the stars, not from the night of thanksgiving, or even your first date, but from the day you moved in. “Tito.” You gasped, tracing over the date with your fingers. “Baby, this is so sweet, thank you so much.” You carefully set it down on the table, moving to straddle him. “I love it, I love you.” You smiled, his arms wrapping around your back, pulling you flush against him.
“I love you, Y/N. The first Christmas of many more to come.”
Taglist: @vinceduhn @vincecdunn @kempe @jackiesquinn @literarycharleton @wtfkie
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vivithefolle · 3 years
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Hi Vivi, can you share some thoughts on the "Hermione deserves to be/should have married to XYZ because she is way too good for Ron" mentality of this fandom??
I’m gonna copy-paste a Quora answer of mine, because recycling is important!
Claiming that Ron is “out of Hermione’s league” is a statement rooted in sexism, classism and probably a bunch of other -isms.
It might seem like I’m just throwing buzz-words around but let me explain.
First off, the sexism.
Oh, the sexism.
As I’ve pointed it out in yet another one of my answers  (I’m so sorry for drowning you all in a plethora of links), Ron is very much a female-coded male character.
Ron is emotional, wears his heart on his sleeve, has anxieties and inadequacies, walks off in order to cool down, has a temper, puts other people before his needs, and pretty much adopts Harry when he rescues him in the second book. He’s the Heart of the Trio: he doesn’t rely on sole logic, he can believe something without proof, he is sensitive and thus is the easiest to hurt emotionally.
Whether you call it a “beta male”, a “wuss”, “defying gender roles” or a “soft boy” is your own business, but the core of it is that Ron doesn’t meet the standards for people’s vision of a “desirable” masculine figure.
The little things Ron quietly performs in the books - when he helps Harry into his pyjamas in Chamber of Secrets because Harry’s arm is bloop; when he’s worrying about Hermione’s whereabouts in Prisoner of Azkaban; when he helps Harry unwind after his visions in Goblet of Fire; when he puts food onto Harry’s plate and wakes him up from his nightmares in Order of the Phoenix; when he beams that Hermione was “perfect, obviously” when she passes her Apparition test - all those caring gestures don’t seem like much, but if you bother to think about it, they paint an enormous picture.
Who gets Hermione to stop overworking while making her feel good about her accomplishments? Who comforts Harry from his nightmares and cares for him in the dead of the night, when nobody is awake? Who makes sure his friends are healthy and happy? Who wards off the dark and depressing thoughts, be it with his fists or a joke?
It’s Ron.
When you think about it, “traditional masculinity” in Harry Potter is as much frowned upon as “traditional feminity” is - which sometimes bites Rowling in the butt when you remember how she obviously seems to consider that Hermione and Ginny are the only desirable kind of girls.
Vernon Dursley? The entrepreneur “king of the household” prejudiced suburbian middle-class Dad? Fits in the usual tropes of traditional masculinity.
Dudley Dursley? The typical “boys will be boys” spoiled middle-class only child who’s the apple of his parents’ eyes and even takes up boxing, as if he wasn’t traditionally masculine enough.
Draco Malfoy? See Dudley, but toss in “upper-class posh aristocrat bully who doesn’t like to get his hands dirty so he has henchmen do it for him because he’s too rich for this sh-t”, would remind you of a few Christian Greys or Gatsbys.
Dolores Umbridge? Oh no, cat pictures, decorative plates, talks to teens as if they’re babies and PINK, SO MUCH PINK!!! So disgustingly feminine!!
Rowling very much frowns upon traditional gender roles - with Molly Weasley being an exception because Rowling feels very strongly about being a mother, and relates to Molly a lot.
Right - so, being a beautiful mess of paradoxes and contradictions (a “soft boi” who also punches bullies in the face, a fussy mother-hen who swears like a sailor, a tall athlete with badass scars on his arms who’s nurturing and sweet; in short, a wonderfully human character), Ron is obviously going to be a polarizing character. You painfully relate to him and get defensive when he’s criticized, you feel his characterization hits a bit too close to home so you hate him, or you disregard him completely because you can’t see anything “special” about him…
Now, onto another very, very sexist point that is often made.
People say that Hermione “deserves better” than Ron, often claiming that they “aren’t intellectual equals”, then citing Harry (who is mistaken as being some sort of slumbering genius but honestly, the kid is really a bit daft) or Draco (since apparently, being rich must equal to being intelligent) or, god forbid, Snape (because he’s a teacher and teachers are meant to be clever).
Soooo, I could go the loooooong way and pull out all the receipts that prove that none of these characters are perfectly intellectually matched to Hermione…
Or I could go the long way and simply give you this: this obsession with finding an “intellectual equal” for Hermione reflects the mentality of “women are not allowed to be better at something than their husband”.
Yep.
A woman has to be all-around pretty good at everything, whereas a man has to be the absolute best in his area of greatest competence (surely better than any puny female!) with a help-meet there to compensate for his weaknesses. People are very, very uncomfortable when Ron and Hermione reverse this dynamic. Hermione is extremely intelligent and dedicated to intellectual pursuits, but is complete pants at things like self-care and people skills. Ron is bright enough to keep up with her and strong in her areas of weakness.
Even if Ron was as dumb as a sack of rocks (he’s not), his other virtues are more than enough to “justify” Hermione loving him. (Because she needs an excuse?) But no. A woman has to be with a man who outdoes her in her area of greatest strength. - credit to @lytefoot
People don’t want Hermione to be with a man who’s her “equal.” They want her to be with a man who can be The Man so she can know the contentment of being The Woman.
But, with this sexist line of thought, how do we justify how Ron is supposed to be such a bad match for Hermione? Because if it was just about mere sexism, Romione would surely be more popular. Imagine! Ron happily raising the children, being a house-husband and proud of it, while Hermione is out there fighting for justice in the wizarding world! What a power-couple, defying norms and gender roles and not being the least bit conscious of it, prime OTP material for sure! So why do people still want Hermione to put Harry, Draco, or god forbid², Snape in Ron’s place? Is this an irrational hatred of redheads? An Harmionian’s delirious wet dream? A failure to separate the actors from their characters?
It’s all this and, quite frankly, something more: the inherent classism that comes with Ron’s status as an explicitly working-class coded character.
I know, I know, “Vivian! Calm down with the buzzwords, you’re starting to sound like an online pretend-feminist magazine!”
Or “Come on, people who don’t ship Ron and Hermione together aren’t all sexist or classist!”
Of course, of course! I know that! I’m not implying that!
But some of the “reasons” why they claim that Ron and Hermione can’t work - are extremely classist in nature, that’s just it!
Come on, think about it! What are the Number Ones arguments people always pull against Ron? Or the most common Ron-bashing tropes (look at fanfics and watch the number of stories that use at least one of those)?
Ron is stupid/mediocre
Ron is lazy/useless
Ron resents his wife’s hard work/success
Ron is a homophobe
Ron is a drunkard
Ron (the big prude who at 16 had never kissed a girl and sees a first kiss as the prelude to a wedding) is massively oversexed and cheats on Hermione with anything that moves
Not only do these “reasons” completely ignore ALL OF RON’S CHARACTERIZATION - except for the “lazy” bit but come off it, all teenagers are lazy and Hermione’s the exception to the rule - but it matches perfectly with the negative stereotypes associated with working-class white men in fiction.
It’s also very funny to note how many (assumedly middle-class or financially secure) fans look down on Ron for being “whiny” or “greedy” when he expresses the desire to have money of his own, or blame his parents for “not knowing when to stop” or “being irresponsible”, or even look down on them for being “too proud to accept help”!! Also how shocked people are when Ron dares to stand up for himself when Hermione or Harry act badly towards him. How dare this country boy not listen to the wisdom of his social “betters”?
So, obviously, because our Heroine can’t go with a Nasty, Mediocre Working-Class Man, she must be paired off with someone of Proper Status: say, a Hero that was raised in a middle-class home and might be a bit psychologically damaged but it’s nothing all those gold coins in his vault can’t fix; or this Rich Posh Aristocrat who actively rooted for her death, he’s a little bit eccentric and has some exotic pet-names to call you, but I’m sure you’ll learn to love him and will unearth the gold coins in his bank account… I mean, the heart of gold that lies within the surface; oh, why not a Way Too Big An Age Difference Teacher if you’re looking for a “cultured man” who has zero things in common with you; we can also bring Convenient Plot Device Famous Rich Foreign Athlete if you want some diversity and you don’t feel original!
But we can’t - oh, we mustn’t let her be with this Terrible Working-Class Boy! His brothers are fine, they have money, they have jobs, so they’re obviously Not As Mediocre. But let our precious Hermione be with this Just-Got-Out-Of-School hooligan? She can’t possibly be in love with him! You’ll see darling, you’ll get bored eventually! He’s too mediocre for you, you deserve a man who outclasses you - I mean, who can provide for you! You’re a fragile little flower who scars people for life when she’s not happy with them, what makes you think that this boy can possibly handle you even though he’s done so for the past seven years?
You wanted it, you got it.
People are shallow, have misconceptions about Ron’s character that they are unwilling to correct or use classist and sexist arguments to try to make it so that either Ron is the Devil himself / Hermione is a higher kind of being that can only orgasm if sufficiently “intellectually stimulated” / what-have-you.
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turtle-paced · 4 years
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GoT Re-Watch: Fine-Toothed Comb Edition
This post is also available on my wordpress.
8.06 – The Iron Throne
Or, A Close-Up of Tyrion Lannister.
(1:59) Right, now that the best part of the episode is over (RIP clockwork credits), who’s ready for lots of shots of people walking around the rubble? Figurative and literal rubble? Shot of Tyrion starts here! Close up on Peter Dinklage, hooooold that close up, keep the background out of focus so we’ve only got the suggestion of the devastation he’s reacting to in the background…
(2:32) After holding that shot for thirty fucking seconds, we get to see what it is Tyrion’s reacting to. Dead kid in the rubble, in this case. Let’s just keep following Tyrion’s walking tour of the ruins of King’s Landing in complete silence, Jon and Davos trailing behind him.
(3:41) Still following people through the rubble. Skeletons visible, charred child’s toy because we didn’t get the point yet…
(3:57) We have dialogue! Whooo! And then we go right back to Tyrion walking through King’s Landing.
(4:58) You know, it’s remarkable how Lannister soldiers got a lot more attractive once the narrative allowed ordinary Lannister soldiers to be the victims of main characters. Seriously, go back and compare this lot to, say, any of the ones Arya came across in the season two-four era.
(5:45) Now we see a little bit of a conflict between the Northern forces and the Unsullied over the appropriate handling of the prisoners in the aftermath. Hang on to the thought for just a few minutes more.
(6:28) Speaking of character derailment, Grey Worm is also just here for the war crimes. That tiny little bit at the start of last episode where Dany hands over Missandei’s only possession to Grey Worm and he chucks it into the fire is the last we saw of either of their internal state of mind prior to both of them getting on the civilian/prisoner massacre train. After multiple seasons of these characters holding strongly to some sense of ideals and ethics (even if they’re not ethics you agree with!), through a lot of messed up bullshit, they just chuck all those ethics out here in the last two episodes.
(6:33) Tyrion continues walking through ruins.
(7:36) Cut to Tyrion walking through the ruined ground level of the Red Keep to Tyrion walking through the ruined secret passages of the Red Keep. Yes, that took more than a minute. Does anyone get the feeling there’s not actually much plot to this plot? Anyone feeling like we’re largely substituting shots of Peter Dinklage emoting over the ruins of King’s Landing for writing how Tyrion Lannister would react to the burning of King’s Landing?
The man can act. But nobody can act enough to make up for this sucking black hole of plot vacuity. And it blunts the impact of what’s coming up.
(9:19) Tyrion finds Jaime’s golden hand in the rubble of the mostly-uncollapsed tunnel. Shortly thereafter, he uncovers both Jaime and Cersei. A few metres to one side and they would have been fine.
Here is where we need to hold on Tyrion as he breaks down over the discovery of his siblings’ dead bodies. Here is where those tight close ups are going to have most impact. Unfortunately, of the eight minutes of episode, we’ve already spent about five of them with only Tyrion and Tyrion’s emotions to engage us as he walked through King’s Landing.
(11:00) Speaking of people walking through rubble, it’s Arya! The main difference between her in this episode and her in last episode is that she slowed her pace down from a run. Where’d the white horse she was riding go? Who knows. Off with the symbolism, we’ve got more symbolism to jam in here and we are not going to be as subtle as a white horse.
(11:33) Jon walks through Dany’s forces. First the Dothraki, all on their horses, arakhs bared despite the conflict ending. Then through the Unsullied, lined up in perfect rows with perfect armour including helmets, despite having been in a fight a couple hours ago.
Have you spotted what’s missing here? Because I have.
(13:05) See, now that’s symbolism! As Dany approaches her armies (wearing all black, natch), we get a shot of Drogon behind her so that it looks like his wings are emerging from Dany’s back! I haven’t seen symbolism this delightfully subtle since Man of Steel. Her Satanic Majesty indeed.
(13:33) We’re getting long pans over Dany’s forces, and this is where I am going to say it.
This is racist as fuck. It’s out of some fucking propaganda booklet somewhere.
We all understood (at least I hope we all understood) that when Cersei was talking about “hordes of Dothraki savages” etc etc in season seven, that was an in-universe racist dogwhistle. She was appealing to the xenophobia and racism of Westerosi lords to rally support to her own cause. And here in season eight, we see that when Cersei was talking about savage hordes etc etc, she was actually correct. Completely, 100% correct. The in-universe racism was validated by the plot. We did not get “each side is bad, because that’s war in a feudal setting” (like we did when it was mostly white people in conflict with other white people). We got soft-looking Lannister soldiers and white civilians killed in the streets, and now we’re panning over the armies that did it, almost entirely PoC. The Dothraki cheering is the only background noise, so you can be sure that it’s meant to sound foreign and alarming. The Unsullied are damn well stormtroopers, dehumanised in their discipline and in their uniformity. The shots are denying them faces.
Meanwhile, the white Northerners (who absolutely participated in the slaughter last episode) are nowhere to be fucking seen. Now that we’re showing the eeeeeeeevil that is Dany’s cause fully unveiled, with the speeches in a “foreign language”, the black outfits, the black and red banners, the whole shebang, the white people other than Dany aren’t fully participating. We’re getting white people as victims, or mysteriously missing from shots of the bad guys, and the people of colour as the bad guys, their otherness emphasised through direction and mise en scene.
Even with the plot points the showrunners wanted (which are bad enough on their own), they did not have to do this like this. Depicting the Unsullied as battle-worn human beings as opposed to Stormtrooper Evil Robots was an option. Including the Northern forces in the shots of the new bad guys was an option. Reminding people that the Lannister army is not a war-crime-free zone was an option. Casting the King’s Landing crowds as more racially diverse was an option. Not introducing and contextualising this conflict with naked xenophobia and racism was an option.
They did not do any of this. There are so many ways they could have done something that did not vindicate the in-universe racists. Instead we’ve got this fucking lazy, fucking racist shortcut of “these guys are the bad guys and you can tell because they’re not white and European-coded.”
(13:54) The other thing to note here is that Dany is now perfectly put together. She’s brushed her hair. She’s wearing clean clothing. She’s perfectly serene. We’re no longer getting the way-too-close ups to indicate a precarious emotional state. In other words, the show has dropped the indications that Dany is insane even more abruptly than it introduced them. Hold the thought.
(14:57) The Unsullied are not allowed emotional expression anymore, because now they are evil robots who do war crimes. This goes for Gray Worm (addressed conspicuously with the translation of his name, rather than the immediately-audible reminder that ‘Gray Worm’ was a slave name) who gives half a smile, and the Unsullied at large, who tap their spear butts on the ground in lieu of cheering.
(15:33) Ah, the other sign that Dany is an irredeemable monster. She wants to liberate slaves. For fuck’s sake, the woman firebombed a major city without any sort of justification last episode, that’s the evil part. Not the bit where she wants everyone to live in freedom. And yet we’re getting the ominous music and the serious reaction shots from reasonable white men over this as well.
(17:20) Tyrion freed Jaime? Yeah, Dany, wait until you hear what Tyrion promised regarding Highgarden, it’s a bit of a plot hole.
(17:47) Tyrion tenders his resignation, effective immediately.
(18:29) He is also arrested.
(19:19) Arya, last seen at the back of the crowd, does a bit of mild teleporting to arrive next to Jon as he watches Dany walk away. Just so you know why Arya’s there and what she’s doing.
(20:09) Strong contender for the stupidest line of the series, right here. I know that I didn’t think I’d hear one to match the infamous “bad pussy” line. Arya, about Dany, after the latter burned down a city on her giant fire-breathing dragon, in full daylight and in front of three full armies: “I know a killer when I see one.”
(20:40) Oh. Joy. This scene. I have not been looking forward to recapping this scene. If that last line was stupid, this scene brings stupid and offensive to the table.
(21:10) Ah yes, Tyrion betrayed Varys. That pure, innocent angel Varys, who used children in his plots to murder monarchs. As we all know, Varys’ motives were noble, and so this excuses the fact that he risked a child’s life in an assassination attempt.
(21:28) Oh yeah! Remember when Jon was resurrected? That affected a lot of things, didn’t it? A major player in the metaphysical and political arenas, that’s Jon Snow!
(22:37) “She liberated the people of Slaver’s Bay. She liberated the people of King’s Landing. And she’ll go on liberating until the people of the world are free…and she rules them all.”
Okay, there’s a bit to unpack here, because the show is smushing some concepts together.
First up is the implied equation of Dany’s actions in Slaver’s Bay to her actions in King’s Landing. I mean, forgive me if I’m wrong, but I don’t recall Dany burning Meereen to the ground. When last we saw the Meereenese theatre, it was left with the implication that she’d left a reasonably stable outfit in charge. With the implication that the slaving powers in the region had been broken. (How plausible the depiction was is another matter.) Dany just fucking set fire to King’s Landing. These two things…really aren’t that much alike. Show!Dany liberated Slaver’s Bay. She murdered King’s Landing. We can make a pretty clear distinction between her actions in each respective place. They should not be lumped in the same category.
Nor do her actions in Slaver’s Bay logically lead to her actions in King’s Landing. We’ll get into the thinking behind this part of the line when the showrunners make this connection even more explicit and offensive.
Second, just chucking in that “world domination” thing at the end. Again we’re getting this core idea that because Dany is willing to use violence to achieve idealistic ends, she’s necessarily a power-hungry tyrant in her own right. To say nothing of the leap between “Dany wants to rule the Seven Kingdoms” to “Dany wants to take over the world.” Especially given the alleged basis for Dany’s desire for the Iron Throne, i.e. she considers it her birthright. Since she believes she’s entitled to one piece of pie (debateable), she will inevitably attempt to take the entire pie.
(23:02) “It was vanity to think that I could guide her. Our queen’s nature is fire and blood.” Oh, gag me with a spoon. What happened to the word “counsel” or “advise”? Because the use of the word “guide” is a lot more teacher-student dynamic, with Tyrion in the position of power. Dany’s a grown goddamn woman, a queen for years before Tyrion came along, who hired him to advise, not to teach. Hell yeah it’s vanity!
But more than that, it’s so fucking condescending. Oh, tragic little Daenerys, who needed a man’s guidance, but succumbed to her essential nature of uncontrolled violence. This doesn’t even frame Dany’s decision to burn a fucking city as her decision. News flash: there is no dark side of the force making a puppet out of show!Dany, show!Dany made her evil decisions independently. For shitty, poorly-explained, poorly-thought-out, poorly written reasons, yes, but there we go.
(23:07) Jon addresses the bullshit “we are definitely our parents” argument.
(23:23) Which Tyrion responds to by saying “dude, did you see how many people she killed?” Which doesn’t actually address the fucking issue. He’s still arguing that Dany = Mad Queen = totally a Targ thing. Remarkably, it’s like the characters in-universe can’t think of a convincing reason for this plot development either.
Speaking of, how many people did Cersei kill? It’s like she committed some sort of atrocity, perhaps at the end of season six, that by rights should have turned all of Westeros against her to the point that everyone should have been overjoyed to see an alternative ruler show up.
(23:45) But what the conversation as a whole drives towards is this central point: Dany is evil. Not crazy. Evil. Which makes the last two episodes, with their hysterical woman bullshit, even more purely gratuitous. And also emphasises just how abrupt that fucking heel turn was. Episode three, Dany, saving humanity! Episode five, Dany, burning down a whole city because she doesn’t think John Smith of 3 Main Street, King’s Landing, is woke enough!
(24:24) “What does it matter what I’d do?” Jon asks. Hey, a good question. What have Jon’s decisions mattered thus far this season?
(24:31) And here it is, maybe the lowest moment in the series, as far as I’m concerned, and it’s got some stiff competition.
“When she murdered the slavers of Astapor, I’m sure no one but the slavers complained. After all, they were evil men. When she crucified hundreds of Meereenese nobles, who could argue? They were evil men. The Dothraki khals she burned alive? They would have done worse to her. Everywhere she goes, evil men die, and we cheer her for it. And she grows more powerful and more sure that she is good and right.”
Where to even start? The echoes of Niemoller’s famous First they came…? Sure! Why not. First Daenerys came for the slavers, and the only people who spoke out were other slavers. Then Daenerys came for other slavers, and nobody spoke out, because they were slavers. Then Daenerys came for a third group of slavers who incidentally threatened to rape her, and nobody spoke out, because they were slavers, who incidentally threatened to rape her and in every instance we can see why someone might violently oppose slavers. Meanwhile, in a key difference from First they came…, the people who are being “come for” are persecuted parties (in the context to which the text refers, keep that in mind with the Communists). Not the oppressors. Portraying the slavers as the injured parties here, and not, like, the central problem in all thistakes some fucking nerve. Or some serious moral blindness.
Next, the attack on the audience. Shame on them for delighting in seeing evil fought! Successfully as well! Shame! Where’s my shame bell?
For the most part, the show framed most of Dany’s actions in Essos as just and positive. In later seasons, we saw Dany take violent actions. But at every step of the way to this point, the show did keep in sight that Dany was fighting fucking slavers. Her end goal was securing freedom for the former slaves. While the show from time to time questioned her means, up until oh, season eight episode four, her ends were portrayed as noble. So to start questioning those ends now, here in the final two episodes of the entire series, is a little jarring. Especially since, as mentioned beforehand, we haven’t seen any signs of Dany conflating “free people from tyranny” with “take over the world, mwahahaha” until her very scary speech just then. At most, she was conflating “free people from tyranny” with “defeat Cersei and assume rule of Westeros.” Which, given that Cersei blew up the Sept of Baelor with more than a hundred people inside, would seem, y’know. Fair enough to think that defeating Cersei would be freeing people from tyranny.
The viewer was not wrong to think that show!Daenerys had good intentions for the vast majority of this show. Yes, she also had personal ambitions and character flaws. The viewer was not wrong to think that the show wanted us to support Dany’s apparent ambitions of freeing people and overthrowing the dynamite-happy Cersei. Here in season eight, episode six, the show is trying to gaslight its own viewers with this “it was there all along!” horseshit.
Finally, the politics. Fighting evil makes you evil, don’t you know. Making an oppressor stop makes you just as bad as the oppressor, in the end. Do what show!Tyrion does, both in season six with the slavers and in seasons seven and eight with Cersei, and continue making futile appeals to an enemy who’s repeatedly taken advantage of peaceful processes. That’s how you stop injustice.
Even on what the show itself has shown us: that is some horse. shit.
In short, the writing here is bad and the politics are worse.
(25:25) “Wouldn’t you kill whoever stood between you and paradise?” What a wacky utopian notion Dany’s got in her head, a world without slavery.
Also, weird question, because no is a valid and reasonable answer to Tyrion’s question. Or perhaps not so weird, when you consider that the show has been pretty reliable in saying yes, the ends do justify the means. The exception is when someone gets one of the aforementioned wacky utopian notions in their head. You know. Killing children is bad, slavery is evil, feudal monarchy isn’t any great shakes…things like that.
(26:05) “I love her too,” Tyrion says. This was…kinda set up. Kinda. The staring as Jon went to Dany’s rooms at the end of season seven, the fact that Tyrion’s not patronising sex workers any more – that equals love. First, though, I’m not feeling it, because Tyrion’s spent very little personal time with Dany. Most of his interactions with her have been all business, and most of his business has been disagreeing with her about serious moral and ethical issues. Staring is not a substitute for character interaction.
I also find this pretty superfluous. Like, it’s not enough that Tyrion’s boss went nuts and killed an entire city, including his siblings, he has to be in love with her as well. He couldn’t have just genuinely believed in Dany’s good intentions and her ideals, he had to be in love with her. And again, Dinklage can act, but nobody can act well enough to make up for a script that just hasn’t done the work.
(27:13) What I’m noticing at this point is that in a scene that is all about suggesting to Jon that he may need to put down his girlfriend, Jon’s barely said a damn thing. He got in a few lines about people not being their parents, but mostly he’s just let Tyrion exposit about his philosophy and his emotions. The scene gets across how Tyrion feels…but not Jon.
(27:43) So just to confirm, yes, Tyrion is asking Jon to kill Dany.
(28:41) “And your sisters?” Tyrion asks Jon as he’s halfway out the door. Bran who?
(28:57) Another reminder that the only logical reason Sansa told Tyrion about Jon’s parentage is to put him forward as a Dany-alternative, despite telling her because it mattered a lot to him that he could be open with his family (a sign of how much he values their relationship), despite his requests for her to keep it secret for political reasons, and despite his personal opposition to becoming king. Show!Sansa…is not a very nice person.
(29:23) Jon walks down a corridor.
(29:43) Oh, thank goodness, that was only twenty seconds of Jon walking places before we saw something different and interesting. Remarkable restraint. Incidentally, I’m pretty sure this is supposed to be snow and not ash.
(31:04) Dany approaches the Iron Throne, fulfilling the show’s take on the House of the Undying prophecies. No, that does not mean the show was always headed for Dany becoming the ultimate villain. It’s just a better retcon than Arya killing the Night’s King.
(31:44) Now this is a better use of people-walking-places shots. It’s not just the one shot of a person walking down a hall, it’s watching someone walk towards an object with significance in a setting which has recently changed dramatically. The time we spend watching Dany walk towards a a chair here lets us see those changes and process the culmination of her ambitions.
Or continue screaming in outrage, take your pick.
(33:41) Jon Snow, finally emoting! Finally expressing an opinion! About bloody time, mate.
(34:56) In this scene, Dany is worlds away from the angry, dishevelled, heavy-breathing figure she’s been for the last two episodes. She’s back to perfect grooming. She’s smiling. She shared a story about her childhood with Jon. Much like with Cersei, we’re spending the final moments of Dany’s life emphasising Dany as a woman, just happy to be spending some time with her boyfriend. Ha ha, joke’s on her, her boyfriend is going to kill her. More on this in just a second.
By the way, it would still have been offensive if Dany was in mwa-ha-ha, burn them all mode, or in the same state she was in at the start of episode five. This is because the central decision here, to make Dany a villain due to her idealism (in some fucked up notion that fighting for a better world is itself a slippery slope), was offensive. Also poor writing.
(35:11) “How do you know it’ll be a good world?” Jon asks, and Dany replies “Because I know what is good.”
(35:33) Plus “They don’t get to choose,” Dany says, in a way too perfect echo of the conversation Tyrion just had with Jon. Okay, joke’s over, who replaced Dany with Tyrion’s straw man? We need to get on with the actual finale now.
(36:17) Dany basically proposes to Jon. They start kissing.
(36:33) Then Jon stabs her. While they’re making out.
This is so many terrible, misogynistic storytelling devices rolled into one. Again before we hit the issue of shitty writing decisions. Dany’s gone mad with power! Her reasonable boyfriend must save her from herself. If only she were in her right mind, she would doubtlessly agree. Dany was killed by her boyfriend in a moment of physical intimacy! Oh, uh, wow, that might not look so great huh – better justify it with her mass murder of civilians. The real tragedy here is how it affects the men who love Daenerys! Not the woman who got fucking murdered.
(36:41) And Dany dies without a hair out of place, a trickle of blood from her mouth and another from her nose. No inconvenient protesting, either. Very neat, very clean. 10/10 for tidiness.
So I’m on to the thing about gendered character deaths! So many female characters killed off in ways meant to emphasise some aspect or another of their femininity. Melisandre is a good, recent exception. Margaery and Olenna Tyrell, Obara and Nymeria Sand, they escaped gendered deaths.
Cersei died begging for her boyfriend’s comfort. Catelyn, Selyse Baratheon, and Ellaria Sand all died with trauma over the deaths of their children. Myrcella Baratheon died just as she accepted that she was Jaime’s daughter. Tyene Sand was killed to cause her mother pain. Talisa Maegyr was graphically stabbed in her stomach to emphasise that her unborn child was being killed as well. Shae was killed by her ex-boyfriend, focus on him as he mourned the fact that he had to kill her. Ygritte died in Jon’s arms – and now Daenerys does the same. That is a lengthy list of dead female characters dead in ways connected to their familial and/or romantic relationships. This is what we call a pattern. A pattern that repeatedly emphasises that a woman’s death isn’t her own death. It recalls the value she had for others, but not her value in and of herself.
Finally, a note on Dany’s characterisation. Because in amongst all the misogyny, there was also some character writing that would have been shitty whether or not it was also sexist.
Most of Dany’s character has been subject to a giant retcon. Daenerys was a good and caring ruler when it suited the plot, freeing slaves, deciding to fight the Others. And she was a ruthless tyrant when it suited the plot, going from “fighting the Others” to “becoming fantasy Hitler” in the space of two episodes. The wildly divergent and contradictory aspects of this character were not reconciled through any sort of internal journey, but cherry-picked according to the external plot circumstances, the gaps in characterisation covered by “but she’s crazy! Don’t expect consistency!” Until she was evil instead of crazy, here at the end, despite what came before.
(37:16) Shockingly, we’re focusing on Jon as he cries over the body of his girlfriend, who he just murdered in an intimate moment. This moment brought to you by the writers who focused on Tyrion as he killed Shae and on Theon as Sansa was raped. This is also a thing we call a pattern.
Jon hasn’t even had the character writing to sustain this moment. He’s barely said anything but “she’s my queen” all season. He’s barely had a character all season. So the sexism in this entire narrative can’t even be somewhat ameliorated (YMMV) by a successfully-executed tragedy. Jon’s interiority has been pretty well ignored, which means that the conflict here is that “Jon loves Dany, but Dany is very evil.” Ignoring Jon’s interiority here means that this plot point has nothing at all to say about right and wrong or the meaning of family in order to distract us from the misogyny of eeeeeeevil woman loses control and must be killed by her boyfriend for the good of everyone. There’s no garnish of quality execution on this fundamentally messed up plot.
I suppose in some ways that’s a relief. In others…the writers can’t even do wrong, right.
(37:41) Drogon approaches Jon, who’s still crying over Dany’s body.
(38:30) The moment as Drogon nudges at Daenerys’ body is actually sad.
(38:58) Drogon rears back, roaring. Jon’s not going anywhere.
(39:17) Psych! Drogon’s not burning Jon, he’s burning the Iron Throne! If you thought the dragon wings behind Dany were subtle and artful, you haven’t seen anything yet.
(39:42) So Drogon melts down the Iron Throne entirely. Doesn’t do anything to Jon. Leaves Jon alone entirely. Just slags the throne.
(41:06) Then takes Dany’s body and flies the hell out of there. Hopefully to a story with more respect for its female characters. Or, indeed, the concept of characters, characterisation, character development…the list goes on…
(41:51) Cut to Tyrion lying on a floor. It’s a very close shot. We’ve only got his face. We don’t know when this is, or where he is.
(42:17) After nearly thirty seconds of this, Tyrion lifts his head. Nearly thirty seconds!
(42:34) Why we didn’t start the scene here, with Tyrion actually going places, is beyond me. Because the chains around Tyrion’s wrists weren’t enough of a clue that he was still imprisoned, we had to see him lying on the floor for thirty seconds, and then Grey Worm come and get him?
Mind you, it’s a bit of a nostalgia trip. How many more shots of Tyrion walking places are we going to get in this series? We’re nearly at the end here, folks.
(42:50) Or here! Here’s a good place to pick up as well, as Tyrion and Grey Worm arrive places! The Dragonpit, incidentally. Call back to 7.07 with lots of people walking around and not actually doing much plot stuff.
(43:11) Quick pan over the people here, including a bunch of blasts from the past. Aside from the Stark delegation, we’ve got Edmure Tully! Who’s still a guy who exists in this show! Brienne and Davos are here too, mostly because they are named characters, I think! Gendry’s come down and is not sitting next to or otherwise interacting with Arya, because now that Arya rejected his proposal there’s no actual characterisation involved in his appearance. There are a few more randoms. Yara Greyjoy! Someone in Dornish clothes, not that the integrity of the Dornish plot mattered at any point! The gang is all here!
(43:34) “Where’s Jon?” Sansa asks. Pssst, girl, this is a meeting for characters with consequence. Jon’s got no business here.
(43:39) So Jon’s a prisoner, Tyrion’s a prisoner, but Tyrion is here and Jon is not. For reasons that are no more than “because reasons.” Sansa, stop pointing out the inconsistencies, artificialities, and writing decisions made at the direct expense of other characters and logical plotting all involved in giving Tyrion one last monologue! You’re ruining it!
(43:58) Now that Grey Worm points out that the Unsullied, who have had custody of Jon and Tyrion both for an undetermined but presumably multi-week period of time, wish to harm Jon and Tyrion for their actions towards Dany…why haven’t the Unsullied done anything about Jon and Tyrion?
(44:29) Once again we get Grey Worm addressed by the foreign language version of his name, because we are dehumanising the Unsullied and keeping their slave pasts out of view!
(44:44) “The people who used to live [in the Reach] are gone.” I mean, what the fuck do you even say to this? It’s just – there’s no worldbuilding to it. In the entirety of the show, there’s been like one battle in the Reach – the telefrag stomping Jaime delivered last season. That’s it. That’s all. Bam, the people are gone, because that’s what’s most convenient for this particular scene.
(45:11) “You are not here to speak,” Grey Worm yells at Tyrion. Because Tyrion is a prisoner. This is not going to stop anyone, least of all the writers. They have a monologue, they have a favourite character, and this is their last fucking chance.
(45:34) A shot over at the Vale delegation shows us Lord Royce and Sweetrobin Arryn, the latter of whom is also still a guy who exists in this show. Anyhow, Tyrion’s redirected the conversation to the fact that Westeros is currently leaderless.
(45:44) It apparently has not occurred to this group of feudal lords and ladies, all of whom are upset in some way, shape, or form by the King in the North killing Queen Daenerys Targaryen, that they should at some point get around to working out who’s going to be in charge.
This is such unbelievably terrible writing and plotting. After eight seasons of people fighting over power, we’ve got a roomful of people who have been intimately involved in that struggle for power, and they have to be reminded about the leadership vacuum in the only form of government any of them are willing to accept and reminded of their own agency. None of these characters are behaving like people in this scene, informed by their past experiences and their society. They are walking, talking props for Tyrion’s/the writers’ monologue.
It doesn’t matter how good the central monologue is. If every other fucking character in the entire fucking scene has to cease being a character – something in the writing has to change.
If, of course, your aim was to write a good story.
(45:54) “Make your choice, then,” Grey Worm says, referring to ‘who should rule’, and none of these people apparently have any opinions.
(46:14) Still got time for a joke at Edmure’s expense! Sorry, man, you are amongst the many, many characters who the show did real dirty.
(47:04) Sam Tarly, also here because he’s a named character.
(47:18) A full minute gag at Edmure’s expense. Seriously, there’s hardly any plot here.
(47:30) Now that we’ve seen Sam, he speaks up, and proposes another wacky idealistic notion. Democracy, am I right? But Sam’s fine, morally speaking, because he’s not actually going to fightfor it. He’s just going to put it out there as an idea, have it be laughed at, and make no follow up.
(48:24) The first person to be asked if he wants the crown is Tyrion. Why. Again, worldbuilding! The show hasn’t done much discussion of who inherits Tywin’s lands and titles. The title “Lord of Casterly Rock” is going to go unmentioned. We’re still ignoring the fact that Tyrion’s a prisoner accused of treason. No matter how nice it is to see that this group of lords and ladies aren’t going to hold Tyrion’s disability against him, it does run a bit counter to the established prejudice he faced in earlier seasons.
(48:37) The next thing that happens is someone asking Tyrion for his opinion on who should rule. Because again, this is a thing that nobody present has opinions on. “Who should rule?” is one of those obscure points of law that you can only expect a nerd to deep-dive into the archives and come back with some heavily footnoted proposal, and not a pressing and present concern for a group of feudal nobles trying to rebuild in the midst of a devastating winter and following the conclusion of equally devastating years-long war over that exact goddamned question.
It also bears repeating: why are they asking Tyrion? Tyrion, who is a prisoner (Grey Worm totally having forgotten that he’s not here to speak), and whose advice to Dany was spectacularly useless at its best.
This isn’t even Tyrion taking over through force of personality. Literally every other character present has been silenced by the writers to provide Tyrion with this one last chance to monologue.
This has been a recurring problem in this series. Over the course of the show, the showrunners have brought in some incredibly talented people! Yay! There’s some meaty stuff in this series which talented actors can do a lot with! Unfortunately, the showrunners started giving certain actors too much opportunity to show off. They gave us too much of a good thing. The desire to keep, say, Lena Headey or Iwan Rheon around another season opened up plot holes. The screen time given over for Jerome Flynn or Diana Rigg to banter cut from time that could have been used to develop the world and the story. And now, we’re resolving one of the central questions of the series – who should rule – not with a dialogue arising from the developed perspectives of the surviving cast over eight season, but with a monologue from a character and actor the writers have already heavily favoured. At the expense of every other character in the scene, and therefore every other actor.
(48:45) Tyrion confirms that it has been weeks since Dany was killed. Weeks. And nobody has an opinion about who should rule. Nobody’s done anything about it. Complete paralysis. For weeks.
(49:27) “What unites people? […] Stories.” So it’s not just a monologue, it’s an incredibly on-the-nose, self-congratulatory monologue. Is this Tyrion Lannister speaking, or David Benioff and Dan Weiss?
(49:45) “And who has a better story than Bran the Broken?”
Is this a rhetorical question?
Also, “the Broken”, ugh, seriously? Must we?
(49:52) Anyway, Tyrion continues on, proving to us for the purposes of the scene that it was not actually a rhetorical question. Bran’s story in the show as a whole was so compelling that he got booted from an entire season and his supporting cast was killed off or unceremoniously seen off home mid-season. Bran’s characterisation for the last two seasons has been so flat the the character says he doesn’t want anything and this is entirely believable. Bran’s such a presence in the narrative that when Tyrion himself begged Jon to think of what he stood to lose if the Starks opposed Dany, he didn’t even mention Bran.
What have we been told here, and what have we been shown?
(50:30) “Who better to lead us into the future?” Again, is this a rhetorical question? Just because the characters got their brains forcibly shut off doesn’t mean same happened to the viewers.
(50:49) “That is the wheel our queen wanted us to break.” Was it, though? Was it really? I wasn’t hearing much about hereditary monarchies from Dany, and a bit more about people living in peace and freedom. Not much more, but mostly I’ve been putting that down to a failure in the writing to portray Dany’s agenda, rather than the narrative intentionally depicting a character whose agenda was poorly-developed.
(51:01) Somehow, this gets even more outrageous when Tyrion, who people are still listening towithout so much as a squeak of protest, says that rulers will no longer be born but elected by the nobility. Hey, we have someone here familiar with that form of governance – Yara Greyjoy, any opinions? What did you think about the last elected king of the Iron Islands? Edmure, Lord Royce, you compared letting peasants vote on rulers to be like letting animals vote, what do you think about Davos having a say in the monarchy? Or people like the recently-legitimised and ennobled Gendry?
(51:25) Tyrion approaches Bran and here we see Bran’s true worthiness to rule – he doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t care about power. So he’s definitely someone who will be careful with the power he has. We’ve seen this when Bran was so very sensitive in bringing up Sansa’s rape to her, and so very kind when telling Meera to go home because their paths had diverged. He was very careful in using his omniscience in those cases.
(51:37) Bran, who is being nominated to be king apparently against his wishes, sits there and listens to Tyrion’s speech without batting an eyelid. That’s how indifferent to power he is. And apparently how indifferent to human emotion he is.
(51:49) Unbelievably, it gets worse. Bran says, “Why do you think I came all this way?” Which implies that he foresaw these events. Which implies he foresaw the burning of King’s Landing. We don’t know when exactly he foresaw it, but with what we know about the extent of show!Bran’s powers, I think it’s a pretty solid implication that he saw the whole fucking thing.
Which means he a) saw the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people and did nothing to even try and stop it, and b) saw his brother murder someone he loved, from what he believed was genuine need (go with it) and did nothing to even try and stop it. If this is so, how is Bran not an absolutely terrible human being, both on the micro scale (refusing to step in to try and spare his brother pain) and the macro scale (how many people died in King’s Landing)?
Moreover, how is such a fatalist fit to rule? Bran foresees a flood that will strike a populated area and affect a great deal of a harvest. What does he do about it?
(52:02) Tyrion votes for Bran to be king. On what grounds does Tyrion vote? He’s a bound prisoner! Nobody’s even said yes to voting!
(52:14) Sam Tarly starts off the round of inexplicable agreement.
(52:34) It’s interesting how Tyrion’s in the centre of the shot, here. What’s actually being judged here is not Bran’s worth as king, but Tyrion’s proposal.
(53:18) Sansa here says that she still wants Northern independence. Even though it’s her brother on the throne. So again, we see that she’s not after national agency (which the North could probably expect with a Northerner on the throne) but personal agency and national separatism. I’m sympathetic to Sansa’s desire for personal agency.  I’m less sympathetic to the separatists who were happy to accept southern and Essosi help when they needed it and unwilling to give back even common courtesy.
We’ve got people from regions with historical and current reasons for desiring independence present – do Yara Greyjoy and the Guy of Dorne have any opinions on Sansa’s actions? Hell, does anyone else here have any opinions on putting a Stark on the throne when the rest of the Starks are taking their bat and ball and going home, leaving the collective family with the perks of rule and none of the responsibilities or shared duties? Grey Worm, any thoughts?
(53:56) No, stop, fuck this “broken” shit. Of all the people who should fucking well understand what it is to be defined by derogatory terms for one’s disability. Tyrion Lannister, folks. Tyrion Lannister.
(54:28) Tyrion is rewarded with the Handship, because this scene was not about Bran. It wasn’t even about Westeros. It was about Tyrion.
(54:55) Now Grey Worm has an opinion.
(55:21) Hello, Jon! Remember when you were relevant? Remember when you were a character? Tyrion comes in with the news that Jon’s been exiled to the Night’s Watch. How poetic, he’s going full circle.
But…what’s changed, here? Jon originally went to the Watch because he felt distanced from his family, acutely aware of how his very existence was an inconvenience to others, intending to make his own place in the world. Now, Jon’s being actually exiled to the Watch, distanced from his own family, because his existence is an inconvenience to others. He still doesn’t have that place in the world that he wanted. At best he’s got a second chance, but man, what a half-assed conclusion.
It also just cements in how fucking irrelevant everything about his character was. What was the point of his parentage? What was the point of his death and resurrection? What was the point of his relationships with his siblings? What was the point of his social class? What was the point of his promotion to king? What was the point of the things he learned beyond the Wall? I’ll have a few final words on some of that in a bit.
(56:02) Grey Worm wanted more than just exile for Jon, but accepted the justice of Jon’s exile. And kept him in a dungeon for weeks beforehand, despite being the man in charge, without harming a hair on his head…why?
(57:39) Once again we’re changing it up and watching Jon Snow walk places.
(58:09) Thankfully, we’re changing up the angles. We see Jon pass a few other Watchmen, we see a shot of Dany’s fleet departing Westeros. We follow Jon on the docks as he passes Dothraki. This is way better walking-places shots, because it’s not just a picture of a man walking, it’s a picture of a man walking through a setting. For these shots, the showrunners have thought about what they wanted to say about the setting as well as the person walking through it.
(58:48) Grey Worm looks down at Jon.
(59:08) The Unsullied are heading to Naath, like Grey Worm promised Missandei. Nice that the Unsullied get faces again, though.
(59:44) Jon’s siblings head out to see him off. First Sansa, who confirms she’s staying in the North. There are hugs as the Winterfell theme plays.
(1:00:41) Then we get confirmation that Arya’s not staying in the north, to the point where she does not expect to see Jon again. This is…aaaaaargh.
(1:00:57) Arya wants to find out what’s west of Westeros. Okay. That’s a thing she’s mentioned once. Compared to her seasons-long effort to get home. I said it earlier, I think the showrunners lost sight of Arya’s motivations. They saw the things she didn’t want – to be forced into various manifestations of patriarchal society, mostly – and didn’t end up tracking the things that the book version of her character very much does want. Namely, her home and her family. Even her desire for revenge is based in how much she wants her home and her family.
Having a character not tethered strongly by motivation is convenient, because you can find an excuse to put her anywhere and make her do anything. Much like Bran! But it comes at the cost of the character. Here at the end, when the Starks are splitting up, it doesn’t feel like their life ambitions are logically leading them to different places, but like the writers are intervening. This decision to go west of Westeros, this thing Arya has mentioned once, doesn’t seem like something she wants so much that she’d forfeit any chance of seeing Jon again.
(1:02:02) Bran tells Jon that he was exactly where he needed to be. I’m reading this as that Jon was needed to kill Dany. That was the point of him as a character in the show. Killing Dany. Everything was in service of killing Dany.
One, this looks like another retcon. Two, man, what a fucking cruel retcon! Destiny’s grand plan here involves them falling in love only for Jon to fucking murder her! And I’m still not seeing how Jon’s death and resurrection was a crucial step in this plan, so it’s not even a quality retcon making sense of disparate plot points.
(1:02:54) Here’s Brienne’s resolution. She’s leafing through the White Book (props to the props folk; you can see the different handwriting from page to page).
(1:03:47) We see Brienne adding to Jaime’s entry. This shows a change in Jaime’s character development and arc from earlier – where back in ASoS, Jaime writes his captures and maiming “in an awkward hand that might have done credit to a six-year-old being taught his first letters,” complete with the acknowledgement that it was Brienne who returned him to King’s Landing, in the show apparently he recounted the first capture and his ransom only. Brienne adds Jaime’s latter-season deeds in the most flattering light before finishing “died protecting his queen.”
Note how this resolution to Brienne’s story is mostly about Jaime. With bonus romanticisation of the Jaime/Cersei relationship. The show never got how messed up that dynamic was.
(1:04:56) Tyrion walks through what’s presumably the Red Keep and approaches the Hand’s chair at the Small Council’s table. It’s great that the Red Keep got rebuilt so fast! Like nothing ever happened. Continuity schmontinuity.
(1:05:29) We’ve got time for one more take of rearranging the chairs. Another case of too much of a good thing. Both in the sense that we get thirty seconds of Tyrion fiddling with the chairs, and in that this joke made its point the first time and the second time.
(1:06:09) The new look Small Council enters to Tyrion at the head of the table. Tyrion’s in charge, here. At this point I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to say that Game of Thrones is centrally a story about Tyrion Lannister’s rise to power. Which is certainly a decision that the adaptation made. Just one that doesn’t look all that much like A Song of Ice and Fire.
(1:06:15) Bronn’s back, re-emerging from his plot hole one final time. Like he never threatened to kill Tyrion at all.
(1:06:17) Sam’s in a maester’s robes. Like he’s even a maester. What about his Watch position? Who knows?
(1:06:27) Sam presents Tyrion with a book entitled “A Song of Ice and Fire.” Hey, that’s the name of the books! Apparently it’s a history of the wars following the death of King Robert. Which is…not actually the A Song of Ice and Fire we’re following, which is about a bit more than the War of Five Kings.
(1:08:04) No word of Drogon. So Bran leaves the business of ruling to Tyrion while he goes looking for dragons. He wasn’t kidding about not caring about power. This is getting off to a great start that will in no way result in the same Robert Baratheon-y indifference to running the country.
(1:08:22) Confirmation that Pod was knighted and is now a member of the Kingsguard, just tying up these loose ends.
(1:08:57) A bit of expositing about Bronn’s new title. He is indeed the Lord of Highgarden. Master of Coin, too. Makes sense, makes sense. Not.
(1:09:52) We back out of the meeting as the new Small Council starts on solving the problems of the realm (including its lack of brothels), for some bizarre reason everyone referring to themselves in the third person.
(1:10:13) The final line of dialogue in the entire series is “I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel.” Call back! In the same fine taste as so much of the dialogue in this show. And we never do get to hear the punchline. (He asked for someone to lick honey off his ass.)
(1:10:19) Cut to Jon arriving at the Wall. There’s a bit of rubble around, but the order’s still functioning, the Wall’s still there. Where’s the fundamental change the events of the series wrought on the setting?
(1:11:03) Jon reunites with his truest friend, Tormund. Speaking of, it’s nice that someone has a buddy.
(1:11:37) Time for Ramin Djawadi’s last hurrah. It’s a Stark montage, as Jon, Sansa and Arya get ready to set out on their next adventures. I think there’s a significant structural change in evidence from the books here. In the books, Sansa, Arya and Bran are more closely in parallel. Jon’s got strong thematic connections to them, of course, but his primary parallels are with Dany.
Which isn’t necessarily a bad change until you recall how badly the show’s treated Dany. And how anemic the writing for Jon was, too.
What this final montage also emphasises is the atomisation of the Stark family, and that, that is fucking sad. This is not a montage of the Starks. This is a montage of Jon, Arya, and Sansa, starting their permanently separate lives.
Again, compared to the books, the love the Starks have for each other is one of the central themes running through their PoVs. The Starks love each other. The Starks love their home. It is grounding and centralising and helps bring out the best in each of them. This ending, where apparently these three get what they want at the cost of those familial relationships – it seems almost backwards. I’m not sure the book versions of these characters could get what they wanted out of life if it meant sacrificing the notion of their family unit.
It’s different, and it’s not a different I prefer. I have thought for a long time that the show did not show the bonds between the Starks well. I’m not surprised at the ending of the series those bonds are severed altogether.
Bran? Who’s Bran? Is he part of the family?
(1:13:40) What. Jon is paying attention to his direwolf. This is madness.
(1:14:45) It makes me very sad how alone Sansa is in this shot as she’s crowned queen. Show!Sansa isn’t a nice person by any means, but for the sake of her book counterpart…
(1:15:15) As Jon helps lead the Free Folk back north past the Wall, you can see grass starting to poke through the snow cover. The show finishes with him riding into a northern forest.
I asked this a bit more than a year ago, but what was the point of all this? What changed? I touched on it with Jon, but what is the difference in the setting? Some borders got rearranged, a different king’s on the throne, but the system remains fundamentally the same. The game of thrones goes on. The aspects of the plot that were supposed to be agents of major change, worthy of an eight-season series – Dany and her dragons, the Free Folk moving south, the Others– all got dealt with and removed from the ending with nice neat little bows and nice neat little deaths.
All that story and all it did was destroy a family.
Thus ends the recap, but I am trying to work on a wrap-up essay. A bit more looking at the forest instead of the trees, and trying to work out where the series went so, so badly wrong.
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baobaojng · 4 years
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secrets of the hill (jung jaehyun) - fourth
secrets of the hill (jung jaehyun) - first, second, third, fourth, fifth
jung yoonoh (jaehyun) x reader - 1800’s jaehyun!au , arranged marriage! au , supernatural-ish?!au , victorian? i think? !au
themes: angst, fluff, (just some implied smut along the way, i’m far too soft)
reminders: i’m half lazy, so i might not be able to drown myself in as much 1800’s facts as i’m supposed to as a responsible author — SO, yes, this will purely rely on fiction
note: detail explosion....?,,,..,????
summary: in the present day you are confused; you do not know who you are and you find yourself on an impossible quest to find out— until you wake up in the 1800’s, engaged to a hauntingly beautiful and uptight man who tries to figure out why the girl he’s been betrothed to has drastically changed.
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After two or three dozen more pairs joined the opening dance, Jaehyun could no longer locate you. You were suddenly out of his line of sight even when the dance was over.
“Are you alright?” Alice asks him, discretely laying her fingertips on the bare parts of his hands. This does not calm him, not like it used to. The man can only shrug her off. He doesn’t think he can handle you disappearing again— not when it felt like this.
Truth be told, Taeil expertly whisked you away in between the dances to be able to talk in private. But you were not going to have this conversation with him alone, or else you would completely go out of your mind, so you also quickly grabbed Yuta and let Donghyuck socialize with all the young ladies who seemed to be interested in him anyway. The younger lord needed some social interaction, very very much needed social interaction.
“Yuta.” Taeil acknowledges your very specific choice in companion as the three of you make your way through the overly decorated hallways.
“Taeil.” Yuta responds with no title attached to your cousin’s name, and you begin to wonder why they are casual.
“How are you? I see you have intervened with my work.” Taeil asks the butler.
“Not your work to begin with. But I am managing things, like we usually do.” Yuta answers vaguely, wary of your presence. Maybe it was a coincidental mistake to choose Yuta as a companion. “How’s Sicheng?”
“I suppose China is treating him much better now,” Taeil says, “he prefers his title of ‘prince’ in modern day Beijing than in these times.” Sicheng as in one of the largest stock investors in your sister companies in China (in the future), Sicheng. Sicheng the traditional dancer.
“How are the two of you still keeping secrets from me?” You interrupt, but Taeil laughs. Yuta can only smile, but he was just as in on this as Taeil was.
Yuta still addresses Taeil though, “it was never my intention to bring her into the loop of our mess!” He hits Taeil at the back of the head, and the entertainment of this is the only thing that’s keeping you calm. “You’re responsible, you’re telling her.”
“Fine.” Taeil complains as he suddenly slides a hand on what seemed to be an empty wall, and then an opening appeared out of nowhere. You weren’t sure how that could ever be possible, but nothing should faze you by now.
When you enter the room, you are surprised to see that you are in the house you shared with Taeil. Walking through the place, examining if the details were consistent with your own memory - it all seems about right. The cars speeding in the street outside, the flatscreen television, the centerpiece of art displayed where you knew it hung. This was the right place, definitely.
Although you should have felt some relief of being somewhere supposedly familiar to you, you cannot help but feel like it isn’t at all right.
“How is this possible?” You look behind you to see if the entry way was still there, but it wasn’t anymore.
“Time passes by a quarter faster here because of the continuum interruptions,” Taeil comments and he finds himself in his usual seating position on his favorite chair, “but that is because I brought you here. So your timeline is moving a quarter slowly than normal. That means we have twenty minutes to speak here, keeping you more than five minutes away from your husband would be too suspicious. So twenty minutes here is five minutes there, quick math.”
“Her fiancée.” Yuta corrects, as he leans on the wall. Unbothered.
“One of you answer my questions directly, please!” You demand, but they are only calm.
Taeil puts on the ugliest smile you’ve ever seen in your life. “Where do I begin...?” He prolongs his words. “My dearest cousin, have I been lying to you.”
“Biggest understatement of the century, Taeil.” Yuta comments, but your eyes shoot daggers to his interruption. It was a really lame attempt at a joke, especially coming from Yuta.
“Makes two of you the biggest liars.” You say, but both of them throw hands as if it’s the most offensive thing you could ever say.
“For starters, we really are cousins.” Taeil says in defense, but you pick up a random object an threaten to throw it to his face. “Okay, okay. You should know that you aren’t from this timeline.” He gestures around the room to make sure you understand. “You are from where we just came from.”
“Taeil and I are from the same timeline,” Yuta speaks up, “but we are tasked to see through that the timelines are correct. That’s why Taeil can skip back and forth, and so can I, and so can Sicheng - wherever he may be. Doesn’t matter what walk of life: whether billionaire, butler, or dancer extraordinaire.”
“But the lying? Is that some responsibility you two have as well?” You ask the two of them.
“Yes and no,” Yuta explains, “we should not intervene a soul’s quest, but if we have to - we have to lie to our best extent to not make it seem like we are imposing. Sort of like, trying to stay out of it as much as we can.”
“Huh.” You maintain, trying to put pieces together.
“I was just supposed to look after you, and Yuta to Jaehyun and Donghyuck - but you were in trouble those many moons ago, so I had to bring you here.” Taeil says, referring to the future— or present setting, whatever. “But your purpose is not the same as ours, so you physically are not capable of jumping through the timeline perfectly. When I brought you here a year, or four months, ago - you forgot all your memories because the transition was too abrupt for you to handle.”
“But what about all the details you told me about my life?” You ask him, trying to make sense of the life you made in the 21st century. How it was so easy for you to adjust if you came from Victorian England.
“They weren’t completely lies. You are an engineer, and you do like classical music.” You know when Taeil likes to play it off as innocent, but you don’t buy it. There’s more to what he’s trying to say and he’s only buttering you up.
“What else, Taeil?”
“Your parents did die in a fire, and we did grow up together in some sense.” Then that memory you had of Jaehyun confronting you in your workspace is complete, you walked out because the Yang sisters had called you names regarding your parents. Orphan.
“Then what about that letter invitation you sent me?” Taeil nods, whipping the same letter out of his pocket. To which you also recover the same exact letter from your pocket, giving him a look that says ‘how?’
“We have to go to another room before I can really explain this technical time travel stuff,” he rises off the couch and the three of you are off to go to Taeil’s room. Unimpressed by the change in setting, you want to protest, but he slides his hands over the wall and the next thing you know you’re stepping into another familiar place.
The antique shop.
“No, no. Not antique shop.” Taeil explains as if he’s some television host and this is some terrifying nightmare reality show of your life, and you can hear Yuta snicker behind him. “There are two timelines you’re bordering, Y/N. The 1800’s and well, present time. My house, our house in the future, and this antique shop - might I also add, Yuta and Sichengs other wormholes - are all void of the concept of time unless subjected to outsiders. So that means you and my party guests, really.”
It makes the most sense at the moment. “Okay, but what about the letters?”
“Objects that pass through timelines, no matter how rare, are copied and stored here in this infinitely growing place cleverly disguised as a antique shop,” he points at everything in the place. “Think of it like a computer constantly copying a file when it passes through the limbo of code or something.”
“I don’t quite understand?” You realize you suck as trying to understand computers that well, but now that you know you aren’t even really from the future - it makes sense how you’ve been such a grandmother about asking Taeil how to use simple objects.
“Oh Taeil, you’re a hopeless time guide.” Yuta complains from the back, so all of you settle your attention to the shaggy haired man. Suddenly you understood why he was so willing to be patient to teach you around and about the Jeong manor, maybe this was his thing. “Okay, Y/N. Pay good attention at my demonstration.”
You nod, allowing him to continue as you follow his steps around the shop.
Yuta pinches at his suit, and points to your dress. “What we’re both wearing exist in the timeline of the past,” you respond with an ‘okay,’ “but we did travel through time by skipping to your own home in the future, so that would mean that here in the void of time - it should have made a copy for itself. It kind of safeguards the events of time, that’s why.” You are brought to an endless array of mannequin stands, and the most recent are your gown and his suit.
“Which also explains my collection of art, the book I gave you.” Taeil comments, and that’s when you really really want to get to the point of all of this. 
“He kind of stole them.” Yuta sneers jokingly.
“Borrowed them, borrowed.” Taeil defends, and you still cannot find it in yourself to join in with the jokes. 
“Why did you give me that book in the first place?”
“Taeil was never meant to interrupt,” Yuta silences Taeil before there was anything to say, “but he did anyway.”
“Hey it isn’t like she would be better off here! It would have messed with the entire timeline!” Taeil defends, but you don’t really understand what this all means.
“Souls have purposes that fulfill a timeline,” Yuta huffs, “timekeepers are never meant to interrupt those purposes, and since you lost your memory due to an interruption in your jump in time - he had to give you the book so you could find your way back to your old life. Or else, well, more or less half of the really important contents in this room would cease to exist.”
Taeil finishes it all off, “and I know you’re going to kill us both, but since I’ve done enough meddling, I can’t tell you why I gave you the book specifically. Aside from it getting you back into the loop, I can’t say much more.”
“The two of you are being impossible.” You complain, but you know that they mean it when they say they can’t really do much. The looks on their faces aren’t up for any argumentation.
“You ran away from the manor when Taeil helped you.” Yuta sighs allowing you to see how they didn’t know how to deal with the situation either, “I tried to tell him not to, but we really had no choice. You could have died right then and there, and that would go way beyond unforgivable on both our parts. You have to forgive both of us. Besides, even then, I think it all works in favor for you since you’re getting some of your memories back.” They both wear a sour face, ready to hear a mouth full from you.
“Then if you two can’t interfere, the two of you should give me some clues here and there. I still don’t get how I’m from the 1800’s when my brain is all wired to think in the twenty-first century.” It’s an unexpected reaction, but you know that even if you get mad at the two of them nothing can really be reversed now.
“Time warp, man.” Taeil says, and Yuta has no better explanation.
-
Technical stuff - you weren’t a fan of the technical stuff; Taeil being a nerd about all the timekeeper things was really just boring. Yuta’s change in demeanor and personality was your definite saving grace. If you weren’t lucky enough to have another timekeeper than your cousin, you were going to rip his hair out to shreds.
Although you could really lay off on the dilemma of time jumping right now; you had a party to attend to. All three of you.
Sliding back into the party, you really believe that it’s only been five minutes. Donghyuck looks absolutely terrified with all the girls who are trying to start a conversation with him, and you arrive just in time to the poor soul.
Before you could come up with a lie to tell the young lord, someone wraps a hand around your wrist.
“The waltz is to start, and I believe I haven’t had a dance with the lady.” You just know it’s Jaehyun when he says it loud enough for everyone else to hear his invitation, the air near your neck changes: you can feel him breathing.
He just loves making it hard for you to say no.
“Now that all eyes are on us, we have to keep up appearances.” You say in a smile so that all the crows watching would believe it was an innocent gesture. As you made your way to join the dance, the first few swings of the violin bows hitting some chords, you can feel the heat from the palm of his hands.
Then it starts.
His feet go sideways first, leaving spaces for your own to follow. “Where did you run off to?” Jaehyun asks simply, as you find a way for your body to adjust to the movements of the dance. It dawns on you that he noticed your short absence, which you hardly expected of him.
“Caught up with my cousin, and some old friends.” His suspicions were incorrect then; he assumed Taeil hid you for the four months you were gone, and since you needed to catch up on things then it would not make sense that his suspicions were true. What he did not know was that he was correct in some sense.
But you turn the tables back around again to him, realizing that neither of you should care about who you were talking to and why were you talking to them. “What about you? You seem to be quite the busy man.”
He tries his best to pretend like he doesn’t get what you mean, but he does - and it’s the beautiful friend he has waiting by the sidelines for him to stop dancing with his fiancée and with her. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
“I won’t overlook the glint in your eyes, my lord. It isn’t like I’ve been overlooking your actions this evening.” It’s bold how you know, and how you don’t have it in you to lie for his sake. The both of you are aware that there was no consistency to how you treated each other. One day you decided you disliked him, and he was only so cold to you. The other times he would side with you (against the Yang sisters’ interests), and you’d think that maybe you would consider being at least friends with him. Some instances where you swear you could feel your heart try to break out of your chest, and you swear it’s not only you who feels that way. But then he could easily blow you off for someone like Alice, and you did not know what to make of that.
“Allow me the permission to catch up with mine own friends as I do with yours.” Jaehyun becomes defensive, but only under the intent to try and not hurt your feelings.
“Allow me the permission to be painfully honest with you.” You offer, but he will not concede.
Retaliation through words is no longer an option, so he wraps his palm against the back of your hand and rests it on top of the midsection of your torso. If small actions were to be relayed the way they were, then you could perfectly understand what this was.
He found himself jealous of your inability to act possessive of him, but not as much as he was guilty.
“We can’t be anything more than this if you act upon your own contrition,” you warn him, “and not because we are different people, in front of many different people. It’s simply not right for us to pretend to all the time for the sake of other people.” Under your best assumption, the looks other people were giving you were that of shock. Maybe because the way you danced was already obscene as it was.
It feels like a growl into your ear when he answers. “Maybe because you’re all that everyone wants tonight, and to that I am of no exception.” You decide that it is not fair for him to be like this, not understanding his character. But you think that he could go and ask Alice for a dance if he wanted.
Quickly letting go of yourself on his grip, you find yourself in the same dancing position as earlier. Playing with the ends of the sleeves of his dress shirt, you let your fingertips glide on his wrist - traveling to his palms.
It takes more than a lot for him not to do anything to you right now, his still cold hands are melting under your touch.
“Maybe is an awfully vague word, my lord.”
Who was this girl, this awfully enticing being? It was you, well in fact, but you were so unfamiliar to him.
“Spare me from the confusion I’m in,” he seems to beg, “but have you ever considered us being anymore than this?”
“Maybe I haven’t been clear enough for you to comprehend.” You look into his eyes, even if you have bended knees - the difference in height makes you challenge him even further. “You know what I said when I said that I knew my place, you should very much know where your own lies. You confuse your heart, when you know it belongs to somebody else already. Do not allow me to intrude.” Taeil, Yuta, and Donghyuck are visible when you dance over to one side - the two older ones are both fanboying, thinking that this is definitely their ship of the century, while the youngest if thinking the same but on a different understanding of the span of the times. Johnny is still uninterestedly speaking with Alice, who looks like she rejected several men who offered their hands to dance with the lady.
The rasp in his voice doesn’t do you anymore justice but he looks back at you like he’s seen you for the first time (considering that you think his attention is not on you) - and to you it feels like he’s really looking at you, “My heart is in no place, and I am afraid I have to know who you are.” Without any doubt he finally says it, he just knows you’ve changed— and it’s changed a lot in him too. It’s only been more than a week since your return.
Nervous laughter escapes your lips. “Don’t be ridiculous, you know who I am.”
“From the moment you defied my chances at knowing where you have been all those months, I knew you were a different person.” It is like he is controlling your breathing and not just your movements, but you gulp - looking at his pale hands and how they redden at the knuckles. “I want to know who this lady is.”
You hold his sleeves, slowly bringing them up to his hands to intertwine your fingers. The cello sounds are even more intense, your head throbs. Jaehyun sees your expression change, your hands hold even tighter to his own.
“My head.” It comes off as a croak, and you are lucky he comprehends this as fast as he can. His hand is delicately placed at the back of your head, pulling you flush against his chest. To everyone else who was looking, it looked like too much of an affectionate gesture.
You were definitely the talk of the town.
~
For many nights now you haven’t gotten any sleep— but what was worse about the situation, as if it was not bad already, was that you physically felt as if you were breaking down. You were growing weaker.
Getting up from bed the joints at your knees are stiff and brittle, but they feel as if they are going to bend at any moment. It was like you were being punished for staying here.
Ignoring the way you looked: still dressed in your garments from the night before, hair astray, and dark circles enclosing your puffy and worn out eyes - you walked down to the dining hall to greet everybody a good morning. Alice and Jaehyun are there, talking about some old friend from their childhood. You think that because they have always been so caught up in each other’s company, it was to your advantage that they never paid attention to you. It brought up less scrutiny from Jaehyun, for what it was worth.
“Miss, you have not eaten a thing.” Yuta is concerned, but you decide to drink a glass of water and get it over with. Somehow your appetite has also died down.
“I’m alright.” You say, faking a smile. Hopefully they do not notice that you’ve also tried crying your way out of frustration.
“But miss Y/N, excuse me if I am being offensive, you look quite unwell.” He says with a frown.
Despite the butler’s pleas, you go on to start working on the contraption in your workspace. Distracting yourself from your fatigue seemed to be the only thing that kept you sane.
There was a responsibility you had here, an obligation to finish the project you promised Jeong Jaehyun’s father upon your arrival to the estate. The thing about the mines was, despite it doing very well in terms of the ores it yielded, the Jeongs just knew that there was more to it. A conspiracy you never understood because nobody had ever gotten around to explaining it, but you did not mind the truth of the matter - thinking that you were only to build this machine and be done with it.
Overtime it became an obsession than it was a responsibility; back then it was just pieces of metal screwed and bolted together with your hands. That is, until it became a configuration that you couldn’t solve yourself.
Running back and forth from your workspace to the kitchens to refill your pitcher of water, Jaehyun observes just how much you’ve been tiring yourself.
Although he would have loved listening to Alice’s stories about visiting France with her cousins, the sight of you entering the dining hall looking restless was a bit alarming. There was a distance the two of you established, but he wasn’t a monster - which meant that he wouldn’t stomach you looking like this. Not when it was clearly part of the matrimonial arrangement to make sure you were in good health.
“Lady Y/N?” He asks you, and you jump a little bit not expecting the sudden intrusion in thought. You decide you don’t like the look of concern, if you were reading it correctly.
Just when he was going to speak to you about your own health you divert the conversation because it was something you needed to talk to him about anyway. “Ah, lord Jaehyun, I’ve been meaning to show you progress on the mean looking thing I’m working on.”
It is not easy for you to divert your gaze away from him, but you do it successfully. The metal pitcher cold and the water splashing around, but not enough for it to spill.
He tensely wants to help you, stop you because he thinks you will trip over yourself. You do not look any good now that he was seeing you through the different kinds of light passing through all the windows and the chandeliers of the hallways. But he knew better than to try and impose; you always were the kind to lie for everybody else not to worry. A wicked sense of martyrdom, if you asked him, but who could blame you when all there was between you were disagreements? He could very much guiltily say that it was his fault there was quagmire among the two of you - as he was mostly the one meticulous and with temper.
It was often that he wondered why you preferred to keep everything to yourself if it meant avoiding even more conflict. Jaehyun wouldn’t say he hated you, no. In fact he respected your ethic, he thought you were beautiful to say the least, and you were just admirable. Something that blossomed an unexplainable fondness ever since he met you.
Hate would mean he had the intention to resent you and to be angry at you. Instead he found himself actively being aggressive toward you, trying to divert his disdain about being engaged to someone he could not hate. That was the problem, he wanted for you to be somebody so execrable to justify his desire not be betrothed— but you were all but wretched, not even dislikable.
Surprisingly, Jeong Jaehyun was an avid believer of love. Even if it was not an idea fit for the ages and fit for a person of his social status, it was something he held on to very critically.
It was because he knew he loves somebody else, since he was young. Alice Yang was always the perfect candidate to be his wife, and for the longest time he was convinced that part of his life had already been cut out for him in the stars. But for reasons of honor, and the up keep of the name of family - love was far from priority.
At times like this when you purposefully drag yourself over the mud to protect yourself from feeling any less and allowing them to see that you were as vulnerable as any human, Jaehyun always had a question in his mind. A question that scared him, but he could not control his mind off of asking.
What would be so wrong to allow himself to fall in love with you?
Before he can see how you open the workspace, you already have. The room as clean as you always kept it, and the walls painted in the deep shade of red you wanted.
“Here,” you gesture, bending your knees to be at eye level with the controls of the machine, “I figured I never gave you much of an idea about what I’ve been working on, and I’ve been living here for months now. I think the idea is morphed up enough to be clear.”
“What does it do?” He wonders with genuine curiosity.
With the pull of a lever, he sees the parts move. But then a few pieces in the room start mildly shaking, and he can feel his own necklace do the same. You pull the lever back into place and everything in place stops shaking. “I’ve been meaning to propose that the mines use something of magnetism, I know your lineage has always been so convinced that there’s more to the mines - and this could just be of help. After all, you do rely on what is seen by the naked eye and this does not.” It’s a fairly simple explanation, but he is impressed.
Just a few straggles of time, and it’s another reason for him to doubt himself.
Another thing about you was that you were astonishingly brilliant. He knew that ladies from the Capital were different, which lead him to believe that at first all ladies hailing from there were educated. But upon listening to people who knew of you and of your family (his friend group was also inclusive of count Taeil, although they were not that close), it surprised him to know that your own parents encouraged your education. Even after their death, you pursued it.
He wants to feel only amazement in this moment, but his heart falls at the constant realization that he is not giving you a chance, and his eyes fall to your appearance. Beautiful, undoubtedly, but painfully unwell.
The pitcher is still between your palms and your fingers, until your wobbly legs tip over a bit too much and you cannot regain balance quickly. It almost falls to the ground, but Jaehyun is quick to recover the object - but not quick enough to catch you.
There’s a wince to your face that shows you feel pain, and if it were possible he could say that he felt the pain too.
“I’m fine.” You announce even before he can ask you, and it frustrates him. Although he offers a hand, you hastily get up by pushing your palms up to stand.
“You cannot keep acting this way.” He says, meaning to say it for more than just rejecting his recent offer at help, but for everything else you’ve been burdening yourself with.
It is to his dismay that you do not catch the latter intention. “I said I am fine.” You release a broken exhale, jagged - giving away for the fact that you were not fine at all, not in the slightest.
Today he did not have it in him to try to convince you otherwise. “I think that’s enough working for you today. You shall accompany me for the rest of the day.” He knows you are about to protest, “it is compulsory.” Now you can’t.
There is really not much to do especially when he restricts you from doing anything physically taxing.
His entire idea of accompaniment was for you to simply ‘wait’ for him in his study until the male help of the house would move onto their chores for the afternoon, where his supervision was needed. It was true that he did not have to do anything until the afternoon, but it was also a ploy to get you to take even a nap on one of the soft leather cushioned couches he allowed you to sit in, and he had some matters to attend to before you would wake. Jaehyun sat there in his desk, reading through documents.
The lack of conversation was uncomfortable, you think. And the only real reason why he was spending his time with you was probably because the lady Alice was taking a carriage to town to get some roses - for reasons you still don’t understand. The manor was beautiful enough with the greenery it maintained, it did not need roses, but Jaehyun was going to allow her anyway.
You do end up taking a short nap, not noticing Jaehyun slip away from his study to attend to somewhere else for a while, only to be woken up when it was already the afternoon.
“I have to bring you along somewhere,” Jaehyun says and you look very much disappointed that your slumber was intruded so he tries to find a way to compensate, “don’t worry, it’s not that far a walk.”
It is only to the foyer that you go, but all the help were moving about the furniture and the decorative pieces that hung on the walls or sat in the corners. You forgot, lest you lose your sanity over the past few days, that everybody in the manor had been speaking of redecorating to adjust for the arrival of winter soon.
The illusion was to capture the warmth of summer, something that you would be missing when the snow would eventually fall. Albeit Jaehyun was a man, a very virtuously and physically virile one, some of his decisions still made it clear that there was a child underneath it.
A large frame was being carried by four workers, Jaehyun offering to help them carry the thing but they politely refused. He finally decided to put up something that would cover the boring blank space on the wall.
Jaehyun looks for your reaction when the thing is finally put up - the painting.
“It’s wonderful,” you muse, dazed at the large piece of art, “there are like a million of them.” You refer to the people in the painting, never seeing art quite like this in your life.
He can only smile, he doesn’t feel it but you see that he is quiet, nervously clasping his hands together.
“It no longer feels lonely here.” Another thing you say, until you notice the paint stains along the ends of the poorly folded sleeves of his dress shirt.
end of fourth part.
next: fifth part.
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comrade-kenobi · 3 years
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Safe and Sound- Obi-Wan Kenobi
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Obi-Wan Kenobi x f!Reader
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Just some shameless Obi-Wan smut. Based on this post. I belong to the streets and I’m not sorry. Obi-Wan’s got a beard and i’m tryna wet it.
no warns, just gratuitous smut.
Your eyes met Obi-Wan’s across the field. For three days the two of you had led a bloody battle against the Sepratist’s droid army. The battle was won, but not without losses; losses that both you and General Kenobi felt deeply. 
It took everything in your power not to sprint to him across the grounds. More than anything you wanted him to hold you, to feel his warmth covering every inch of you. There was nothing in the galaxy more comforting than his signature melding with yours, creating a peace within you that felt like home. 
But it was impossible. You were Jedi Knights, Masters with positions on the counsel. Your code forbade such attachments. Besides, Obi-Wan’s reaction to your injury in battle yesterday raised a few eyebrows.
---
You had turned to help your Padawan, she was pinned down by ten droids with more on their way. Being so focused on what was in front of you, you failed to see the battle droids behind you; and you caught a blaster strike to the shoulder. Though your armour absorbed most of the blow it still scorched your shoulder and knocked you to the ground, sending a white hot pain throughout your body. 
Obi-Wan sensed your pain immediately, as if it were his own. He ripped through the battlefield as fast as his legs could carry him, with Anakin following closely behind. 
From the ground you let out a force push that sent most of the droids toppling over; their blasters clumsily shooting at one another as they fell. Thankfully your Padawan was able to take care of the ones that were still standing, you’d trained her well. 
Before you could push yourself off the ground Obi-Wan was at your side, his large calloused hands cradling your face.
“Dear one! Are you alright?” He asked, his voice frantic as his desperate, crystal blue eyes darted around your features. 
“I’m fine, love.” You whispered, reaching a hand out to push away the hair that had fallen into his eyes as he hung over you. He still had you cradled in his arms, as if you were made from a delicate paper; the kind that tears with anything more than a feather light touch. 
You reached out to him in the force to calm the inky blackness that had seeped into his signature. No one was close enough to hear your words, but you were sure that any Jedi on the field could feel Obi-Wan’s fear in that moment. It was the kind of fear that only came from forbidden attachments. The kind of fear you felt when you think you’ve lost the one you love most. 
The look that Master Windu had given you in the medical tent as Obi-Wan sat by your side confirmed your suspicions. He’d certainly felt Obi-Wan’s dread on the field, and the two of you would have to be extremely careful from now on. 
---
Your body ached, and your heart was heavy with grief as you attended to your post battle duties. Sitting in a counsel meeting across from Obi-Wan was akin to torture. Normally you’d share little glances, smiling at each other as the other members blabbered on about politics. But not now, not when doing so could risk you status in the Jedi Order. 
The meeting finally came to a close and you dragged yourself back to your temporary living quarters. It was a small building atop a hill, and it was thankfully far away from the others. The last three days, and every day leading up to them had been such chaos that the solitude was a welcome change. 
You plopped down on your cot, far too tired to drag yourself to the refresher. Sleep was eager to take you but the person softly knocking on your door had other ideas. It was Obi-Wan, you knew that without even looking. You could feel the warmth of his signature through the old wooden door.
Obi-Wan kicked the door shut almost as quickly as you had opened it; and once he was certain no one could see you, his lips were on yours. His kiss was filled with a fiery desperation that pulled the air right from your lungs.
Your hands found their way into his soft, rusty colored hair as he guided you towards the wall by your hips. Pinning you against it with his own and, bringing your bodies impossibly closer. His hands ghosted their way up your sides until they reached your neck where they rested gently as he pulled away to nip at your bottom lip. 
“Hello there” you joked, breathlessly. Obi-Wan chuckled as he rested his forehead against yours, lightly nuzzling your nose with his own. 
“I thought I’d lost you.” He muttered, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and gingerly rubbing his fingertips against the soft skin of your neck, to remind himself that you were really there. 
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, General Kenobi.” You replied, smiling meekly as you playfully tugged at his beard. 
“I wouldn’t dream of it, dear one.” He said, with a smile so sincere it warmed your very heart and soul. 
With that he pulled you in for another kiss, this one was deep and passionate. His tongue hungirly swiping at your bottom lip, wordlessly begging you to let him taste you. 
You obliged and your tongues danced together, the familiar sensation sending a shiver of excitement up your spine. Obi-Wan used his knee to part your legs, pressing his thigh into your dampening core. You squealed at the pressure and began to grind against him. Obi smiled into the kiss and, ever the gentleman, lifted his leg a little higher to help you with your ministrations. 
His hands eagerly explored the familiar expanse of your body. Expertly sliding their way down to unfasten the belts of your robes. His mouth leaving yours only to trail hot, opened mouth kisses down your neck. Nipping lightly at your pulse point, then smiling smugly as you whined at the feeling. Your hips picking up pace on his thigh, futilely attempting to create more friction. The fabric of your clothes was making it near impossible to feel him in the way you wanted.  
Never one to rush, Obi-Wan took his time undressing you. Pulling away to allow his eyes to roam over your figure, drinking in the sight of you. You shrugged off your overshirt and tunic and he watched as they fell to the floor leaving the softness of your chest and stomach completely exposed. 
“So beautiful,” he mumbled to himself; his hands finding their way to your now exposed skin like they had a thousand times before. He took your breasts in his hands, admiring them as he lightly dragged the rough pads of his thumbs over your sensitive nipples, bringing them to attention. 
“Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are a tease,” you quipped breathlessly. Smiling in amusement as he gave your breasts a lazy, but firm squeeze. 
“Not a tease,” he corrected before bringing one of your nipples into his mouth. The scruff of his beard scratching at your skin as his tongue swirled around it. You keened at the difference in sensations, arching your back off of the wall behind you. 
“I’m just smart enough to appreciate divine beauty when I see it.” He continued, before mirroring his previous actions onto your other breast. 
“Mmm, you do have a way with words.” You moaned, carding your fingers through his hair and tugging as you grew impatient. Your panties were soaked through and sticking to your swollen lips in a way that drove you mad. Obi-Wan’s expert tongue wasn’t helping matters; as good as it felt on your tits, you knew of a place where it would feel even better. 
Obi-Wan leveled his gaze with yours and smiled hungrily when he caught sight of the lust blown look in your eye. He placed his hands firmly on your ass and lifted you into his arms; you let out a surprised squeal before wrapping your legs around his waist. 
As he made his way over to your cot you kissed down the hollow of his neck, he let out a low, almost pained groan as your teeth grazed over his adams apple. You licked up the column of his neck then lightly sucked on his earlobe before he tossed you back onto the mattress. He admired the way you looked as he stepped back. The way you looked up at him through your lashes as you leaned on your elbows, your chest flushed pink from excitement, lips plump from kissing, and hair a perfect mess went straight to his cock. Making it twitch against the rough material of his pants. 
“Let me show you how grateful I truly am that you’re alright, darling.” He crooned before dropping to his knees in front of you. His fingers hooked into the waistband of both your pants and panties and you lifted your hips so he could tear them off with ease. Now you lay before him, fully exposed, with his large hands resting on the insides of your thighs to spread them apart. 
Obi-Wan licked his lips at the sight of your glistening cunt, and you could have sworn, if only for a moment, you saw him lose his breath. You wiggled under his intense gaze as he brought a hand to the place where your hip and thigh met, just shy of where you truly wanted him, needed him. 
Without moving his hand from where it sat he dragged his thumb up and down your soaked folds. Collecting as much of the sticky wetness as he could before bringing his thumb to his mouth. He licked it slowly, closing his eyes as he enjoyed your salty sweetness.
“Heavenly,” he groaned, the words rumbling in the back of his throat. Obi-Wan wasted no more time, he wrapped his arms around your legs, bringing his face as close to your core as possible. His beard tickled the skin on your thighs as he teasingly swiped his nose up your slit. You jumped when it brushed against your swollen clit and Obi-Wan chuckled. Maker did that man enjoy teasing you. 
“Obi, please,” you begged. Bucking your hips towards his mouth feeling his breath hot against you. 
“As you wish.” He replied dreamily before licking a slow stripe up your cunt, moaning as he savored the taste of you.Your fingers tangled in his hair as he lapped up your wetness, scratching at his scalp every time he hit just the right spot. 
Eventually your hips started to move in time with his tongue, your hand keeping his head in place as he let you ride his face. He allowed you to guide him wherever you needed him, after all he was here to serve. 
Obi-Wan sucked harshly on your clit, sending shock waves up your spine, and making you whine his name with an almost embarrassing desperation. The sound had him rutting against the mattress trying in vain to find some release. He buried two fingers in your pussy, eager to feel at least some part of you around him. 
The way his fingers filled you in combination with the feel of his warm, wet tongue tasting every inch of you had you balancing just on the edge of release. You looked down at him when he removed a hand from your thigh to palm his throbbing cock, making himself moan with the slightest pressure. The sound vibrated against his tongue as it lapped away at your clit and sent you tumbling over the edge.
Your thighs clenched around his head as the warmth that has been pooling in your stomach spread throughout your body. You could feel him smiling against you proudly as he licked you through your high. Drinking every last drop you had to offer, your essence quenching a thirst in him like nothing else could. 
He crawled his way up your body, watching as you laid there, fucked drunk and chest heaving. He licked his lips when he reached your face; the way his beard glistened with your wetness was positively sinful. 
“Stars, you’re gorgeous.” Obi-Wan observed, his eyes filled with love as he toyed with strands of your hair. 
“I’m nothing compared to you, my love.” You replied, earning yourself a hearty chuckle from the man holding his weight above you. 
“Dear one,” he started, staring down at you with a soft smile as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “I find that very hard to believe.” 
“Perhaps it’s my turn to show you how grateful I am for you.” You teased, reaching a hand between you to give his rock hard cock a firm squeeze. 
“Darling,” he groaned, his hips rolling into your hand as you rubbed him through his pants. “Need to be inside you. Feel you.” 
“Then take me, General Kenobi.” You sang, wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue and smiling up at him kittenishly as you pushed his pants down just far enough to release his throbbing cock. 
Your words ripped a feral groan from the back of Obi-Wan’s throat. You’d pushed all the right buttons, and you knew it. His lips met yours with a renewed passion. Swallowing the whine he pulled from you as he dragged the head of his cock through your already sensitive folds. Stopping for a minute to tease your clit with it. 
Satisfied with the way you mewled beneath him, he lined himself up with your entrance and pushed in slowly. Cradling your head in his hand so he could watch your face as he stretched you. Savoring the way your eyes fluttered shut when he filled you to the hilt. 
Obi-Wan let his head fall beside yours on the pillow, his beard tickling your shoulder as he dragged himself in and out of you. 
His breathing was rough, and ragged in your ear. The heat of his breath draws a shiver up your spine, making you arch your back and press your breasts flush against his chest. 
“Faster Obi” you pleaded, trailing your hands down to his ass and giving it a firm squeeze. 
“N-Not gonna last, d-darling” he choked out, nuzzling his nose against the side of your neck. “Feels too good. So warm.” 
“It’s okay” you assure him, digging your nails into the softness of his ass. “Wanna feel you tomorrow.” 
Obi-Wan sighs like he’s had the wind knocked out of him and instantly picks up speed. He’s breathily singing your praises into your ear as he thrusts; and you can feel the thick vein straining on the underside of his cock dragging against your walls as he twitches inside you. It makes your toes curl. You can feel your release building once more; like a rubberband pulled too tightly, bound to break any second. 
“S-so close” you whine, using your hands against his ass to stop his thrusts and grind against his pelvis. His hips stutter as he tries to hold on and you can feel him nod against your neck. 
Obi-Wan brings a hand between your bodies and starts to rub harsh circles against your sensitive bud, then begins thrusting again. He lifts his head to look at you, the blues of his eyes nearly disappeared, giving way to a lust blown black that drives you wild. You clench your walls around him at the sight and he comes undone with a primal yell. 
The sound of him calling your name, and the sloppy circles he’s still drawing on your clit prove to be too much and you join him in ecstasy. Your walls milking him for every bit of his release as you raise a hand from his back to run your fingers through his beard. 
Obi-Wan’s head falls to your chest with a contented sigh. You close your eyes and begin to play with the hair that curls at the nape of his neck. Though he can feel himself going soft inside you he can’t bring himself to leave your warmth. 
“I love you,” Obi-Wan whispers, feeling more at home in your arms than he’s ever felt anywhere else. 
“I love you too” you reply, feeling the heaviness of sleep start to fall over you as your breathing evens out. 
“I’m so glad you’re alright.” Obi-Wan says aloud, though he knows you’ve already fallen asleep. Childishly, he thinks that maybe if the universe hears him say it enough, it’ll keep returning you to him; safe and sound. 
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starrynite7114 · 4 years
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things you never knew: three
A/N: Sorry this took so long! I kept writing and writing, and here we are with 5000 something words. The story is definitely starting a little slow, so many secrets and questions popping up, but I promise, things are going to pick up soon.
If you guys ever want to discuss the story, please feel free! I love questions! <3 
I also added new characters on the characters post, please check it out!
Also, requests are still open if you would like to make a request! 
Thank you all for the recent follows and likes, I really appreciate all the love!
TYNK: Characters one : two
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“Please Theo, I just want to go home.” Ailee sobbed, as she held her stomach, on her knees, head against the concrete. 
“You have no home.” Theo spat out venomously. “How can you be the best at Maquina if you’re going to long for home? Personal relationships exhibit weakness, they give your enemies a target.” He looked at the four men that surrounded Ailee. “Again.” 
The four men approached Ailee one at a time, Ailee was able to defend herself, and take a few down. That was until there were multiple people who attacked her, then Ailee was back on her knees, holding her stomach once again. She coughed, blood coming out of her mouth, her whole body was aching.
“This is your home till I see fit, till you’re prepared to be the best in Maquina.” Theo stated. “Who do you want to go back to? Angel Reyes?” Theo chuckled, shaking his head. “He is a waste of space my darling sister, you have no future in Santo Padre with him. You have romanticized this life with the Reyes’, but let’s be honest, you don’t fit in that life. You belong to this world, to keep the balance of power as your uncle fondly tells you.” Theo scoffed. “We can take over the world Ailee, we can have the governments of this world pleading to have us on their side, to have us manufacturing weapons of mass destruction for them. Do you not want that for me? For me to be able to bring back honor to my family’s name?”
Ailee did want to help her older brother out, but this was insane. She wasn’t cut out of this, she didn’t want to be a monster. 
“What did I tell you?” 
Ailee remained mum, not saying anything to Theo. She didn’t want to be here. This was the last place she wanted to be. She was only supposed to be here for a few weeks, but when she arrived, Theo took her passport and her cell phone. She couldn’t even contact John and Vince and it frightened her, but she didn’t let it show. Theo pounced on fear, and she tried her best to not be afraid.
“What did I tell you?!” He yelled out, hitting her with the stick he held in his hand. She fell to the ground, her forearm holding her up as best as she could.
“Fear is a concept for the weak. You have to face your fears in order to become the best.” She repeated his mantra in a monotone voice, three months of pain and suffering sinking in. She terribly missed Angel. Her saving grace, her fucking Angel. Whenever she thought about killing herself, ending this miserable life, she thought of Angel. His stupid jokes. His stupid smile. His warmth. The way he would hold her whenever she had a hard day at the academy. The way he would tell her that everything was going to be okay when a thunderstorm frightened her. The way he would make silly faces at her while she was eating dinner with his family, her family.
She fucking missed him.
He was the light at the end of her tunnel. 
If she focused on that, she could survive this fucking hell. 
“I’ve done everything I can for you since we were children, Grace. I’ve always taken care of you, made sure you were okay, read you bedtime stories, it was all me. When you were here, you were free from the scrutiny and hardships your parents put you through. All I’m asking is for you to give this training your all, to beat John and Vince.” Theo squatted down in front of her, lifting her chin up. He slapped her, blood spurting out of her mouth. She couldn’t even cry, the tears only further aggravated him. “I’m doing this because I love you.” He took his phone out, a live-stream of Angel at the scrapyard was on his screen. “You don’t play by my rules and I’ll kill him. See, as I’ve said, personal relationships are a cause of weakness.”
Ailee felt her tears welling up again. She looked down, taking a deep breath. She stood up, and looked up at the four men before her. Theo saw the way her face hardened, smirking at the victory he achieved.
“Again.”
=============
Creeper watched Ailee as she unloaded her SUV. He heard the grand opening was in three days and he wanted to check on his younger cousin. He’s given her space since her release from jail, but like Angel said, she was an adult, she had to handle adult conversations. But somehow he knew that wasn’t the issue. 
“Are you just going to stand there or are you at least going to help me?” Ailee’s question broke him out of his trance, giving her a sheepish smile. 
“I got you.” He took off his gloves, picking up a box from her trunk. Walking inside, he was surprised to see a few people inside working, they looked at him, greeting him so uniformly it was creepy. 
Ailee walked in behind him, raising an eyebrow as to why Creeper stopped.
“Creep, why the hell are you blocking the way?” Ailee questioned.
“Didn’t know where to bring it.” He turned to her. 
“Counter.” She nodded her head forward.
They both placed the boxes on the counter and went back outside. Ailee sat at the trunk of her car, watching her cousin slightly pace in front of her. Creeper was her cousin from her father’s side. His mother was Jin and William’s half sister. She was the middle child in between them. They got on well and Creeper has been a part of her life since she was younger. Truth be told, he was one of the few members of her dad’s side she was fond of. He was a good dude and was loyal to a tee. He was always so kind to her. Whenever she would get in trouble with her parents, she would sneak over to his house which was just a house over and let him distract her with stupid shit he would do.
He also taught her how to box to release pent up aggression she had. Ailee was taught to keep her feelings to herself, to not show your emotions as it was a sign of weakness. Due to this, when she would become angry, frustrated, sad, whatever negative emotion, she was never truly able to show it. Instead of letting her brood, he would take her out, taking Angel along and letting her box. Sure, maybe him and Angel were punching bags along with other people at the gym, but Ailee needed it. 
“How are you?” Creeper questioned. 
“Good, just busy with setting up the shop. How are you?” Ailee began to slouch, and she immediately corrected her posture, feeling the smack of the stick one of her trainers used to carry around whenever she would slouch. 
“Slouching is a sign of laziness, improper posture is not allowed for an agent of your caliber. Fix it, it will help you in life later on considering all the injuries you have sustained.” 
Prim and proper, that’s how they were supposed to be. Always clean shaven, hair tied in a ponytail, no messiness. It was a dress code, which was comical to Ailee, but she figured there had to be a code somewhere.  
“We have a run tomorrow. I just wanted to check on you. I know we’re far from forgiven, but you have to know that we tried to see you multiple times.”
Ailee’s eyebrows furrowed. She kept hearing that, they tried to see her yet it never happened. “I doubt that. Felipe saw me, so did Jin and Theo.”
“Theo? Your psycho half brother?” 
Ailee nodded her head tensely, recalling how her brother visited her a few times and remembering how uncomfortable and irritating it was. He wasn’t allowed on American soil, yet, he risked it to see her. It was idiotic and there were so many times she wished he was caught. For some reason, he was always evading the authorities. He was only on their radar if he stepped foot on US soil, he technically didn’t have a warrant on him since he hasn’t done anything to catch people’s attention. Selling weapons to lowly Eastern European countries didn’t really alarm government officials. Who didn’t sell weapons to militant groups? When he starts having bigger clients then that’s when the problem arises. But with him seemingly using a rebel group too close to the border, that’s when things changed. Rebel groups against the cartel were unpredictable, their loyalty was fluid, much like the governing governments of the world. If you fit their purpose, then they were loyal to you. 
“Yes, and before you ask, I don’t know how he got to American soil, he just did.” Ailee shrugged. “Look, I think we can all just move on, whether or not you attempted to visit me or not, it’s no longer my concern. I’ll stand clear from you all and you stand clear from me.”
“You know we can’t do that, Angel wouldn’t agree to that.” Creeper knew how much Angel was itching to confront Ailee. From what he heard, he already did and he met her boyfriend, Alexander. He was almost sure that information was incorrect and Angel was just being dramatic. Any man around Ailee was not accepted by Angel. 
“Well tough shit, Angel doesn’t really have a choice does he?” Ailee scoffed. “It’s my only request primo, please respect it.” She knew this was an awful request, but she could keep tabs on the Mayans without actually being involved with them. There was too much history and hurt to actually work with them. Ailee wasn’t willing to face that demon, facing that would cause things to resurface she long buried.
“Angel isn’t going to give up on you. It’s been five years, that’s enough time to get past grievances.” Creeper knew it wasn’t but Ailee blocked them off, how could she be angry at that?
“Let me ask you something, if you took the fall for the MC and they never visited you, would you welcome them with open arms?”
“Of course, there must have been a reason why they didn’t and we did try to visit you, you shut us down.”
“I didn’t have a ‘no-visit’ list. If those other people were able to visit me, then how were you not able to do so?”
“I don’t know Lee! You fucking tell me!” Creeper was frustrated. It was like going around in circles with Ailee. “We tried, we really did, but you made it very apparent that you didn’t want to speak to us.”
“Look, there’s no point in arguing about things. Like I’ve said, let's all move on.”
“Lee, you were never this heartless. I get it, you’re upset because you feel like we’ve abandoned you, but I can guarantee you we didn’t. We’re family.” Creeper knew Ailee could hold a grudge, but this was different. She couldn’t hold this against them all. 
“Family is such a strange concept. One abandoned me and the other uses me as a weapon to serve a purpose that is a joke to be honest.” Ailee scoffed. “Look, again, my stance is quite firm. Let’s all be cordial, but otherwise, I want nothing to do with any of you.” 
Before Creeper could reply, a voice interrupted them.
“Heads up.” 
He looked to where the voice came from and it was Alex, Ailee’s childhood friend. What surprised him was the little girl, five years old at most running towards Ailee. He watched as Ailee jumped out of the car and opened her arms for the young girl.
“Baby!” Ailee kissed her cheek, lifting her up. “This is Tio Creeper, this is my daughter, Melody.”
Creeper tried his best for his mouth not to drop open, the shock of being introduced to Ailee’s daughter shook him. The little girl looked just like Ailee, but she didn’t have Ailee’s hazel eyes, she had brown eyes, much like Angel. He couldn’t believe this, Ailee couldn’t have had a child while she was in jail. Money talked, he knew that, but he doubted that Ailee would have a kid with Alexander while she was in jail. 
Nothing was making sense. 
He noticed the hearing aid then, eyeing Melody curiously. “She can hear?”
“Yes, of course she can. She’s just more comfortable with signing still because she thinks her voice is weird.” Ailee kissed the implant on her baby’s forehead. “She’s fine. Baby, come on, say hello, Tio Creeper would love to hear your voice.”
“Hello,” Creeper did note that her voice didn’t sound normal, but she was adorable. She hid her face at the crook of Ailee’s neck. 
Creeper noticed Alexander appear behind Ailee, the little girl reaching for him. 
“I got you babe,” he picked her up, kissing Ailee at the top of her head. “Creep, nice to see you.”
“You too man, didn’t know you were allowed outside of Europe.” He knew the business the Leon’s had. Regardless of their real estate venture, cocaine still made their world go around. 
“Helps to be attached to this one.” He nodded his head towards Ailee. “I’ll leave you two.”
“It’s fine, Creeper was just leaving.” 
“Does Angel know you have a daughter?” Creeper knew those brown eyes anywhere, he’s been brothers with the man for years and known him before that due to Ailee. 
“Why would he need to know?” Ailee gave him a look, but he could tell that she wasn’t comfortable, that being back in Santo Padre was biting her on the ass.
No one could hide anything in Santo Padre, especially not from the Mayans.
“Well for one, that kid looks like Angel.” 
“She isn’t Angel’s kid, she’s my kid.” Ailee countered. “Why does she have to be Angel’s kid if she’s my kid?”
“So she isn’t your actual kid?” Creeper was beyond confused. He had a hunch that Ailee was never inside, it was all but confirmed for him. Jin would never have let Ailee remain in jail. Hell, her brothers would have never let her remain in jail. How could he be so naive to think they would do so? He knew Ailee was upset, but there was no way she would have them in a ‘no-visit’ list.
“That’s none of your business. She’s my child. There are plenty of people with brown eyes primo, stay away, this is your only warning.” Ailee took her child inside, Alexander following after her. 
He had to do some digging, but he was going to need some help. Taking his phone out from inside his kute, he dialed the number that he knew could help him.
“You busy?” 
Melody looked nothing like Alex. She was Angel’s kid and he was going to get to the bottom of this.
=============
Olivia walked out of her apartment, frowning when she saw Kevin across the street. She unlocked her car and watched as Kevin walked over to her. 
“EZ hasn’t been answering my calls.” Kevin informed her.
“And this concerns me why?”
“Don’t be difficult Liv, he needs to check in with me, you know this.” Kevin sighed. “I’m still trying to figure out how you managed to get this deal for him.”
“I know people.” Olivia shrugged. Kevin was such a lowly agent, he could never know of the existence of Maquina. Hell, only high ranking officers knew of their existence and even then, it was a hand selected few who knew of their existence. A shadow organization that helped the balance of power in various regions of the world.
“You must know high ranking people.” Kevin always tried to pry on what Olivia did for a living. He knew she headed an IT department for some company, but Olivia always kept him within arms length. Much like EZ, he’s known Olivia too yet, she was very hesitant to be alone with him. “Who do you know?”
“Doesn’t matter Kevin, if you nail Galindo, it’s beneficial for your career and keeps EZ away from jail.” She placed her things inside her car, turning to face Kevin. “I don’t see why there is a need for you to know who my connections are.”
“What happens to EZ when he serves his purpose?”
“Whatever he wants.” Olivia didn’t understand his question. EZ could do whatever he wants. “He could just tell the MC that this wasn’t the life for him and go from there.”
“You’re not worried he’s going to go back to Emily?” Kevin knew that Olivia had feelings for EZ. Only EZ didn’t seem to know she had feelings for him. 
“That’s none of my concern. EZ is a big boy, he can do whatever he pleases.” Olivia slammed the door to the back passenger. 
“After everything you’ve done for him, don’t you want him to at least return the favor?”
“Kevin, I didn’t do this so EZ could pay me back. He’s my best friend, I’m glad I was able to,” she sighed. “I want to help him. He can get his second chance in life, he’s far too brilliant to rot in prison.”
“Just tell him to call me.”
“Sure will.”
She watched as Kevin made his way back to his vehicle. She slid in her car, locking it immediately out of habit. She’s had a few close calls and would rather be safe. 
Olivia wasn’t going to lie. She wondered if EZ would go back to Emily once Miguel was in jail. He most likely would.
His first love.
Love of his life.
Olivia chuckled, shaking her head. She gave those hopes long ago. She deserved better than waiting for someone who would never see her. 
“Once this is done, you should come back to Spain.” She recalled Jin telling her. “Your talent is wasting away in Santo Padre. Ezekiel will be safe and can start over, you’ve given up so much for Ezekiel. It’s time to move on.”
Jin was right. It was time for Olivia to move on. She deserved a happy ending as well.
And maybe it was with Nathan, Alexander’s younger brother.
Olivia parked behind Carniceria Reyes, turning her car off and sliding out. She wanted to stop by before she spent the rest of her day at the coffee shop.
She knew EZ would be there.
And like she predicted, he was there with his father. 
“Mija, you’re here.” Felipe fondly greeted her.
“Hey pops.” Felipe refused to acknowledge her whenever she called him Mr. Reyes. He said they were family and she agreed. Her real family was basically non-existent. The family that she recognized 
“Hey Liv,” EZ greeted Olivia, giving her a quick hug. 
“Kevin came to see me.” 
EZ frowned. “Why?”
“You’ve been ignoring him, he wanted you to call him.”
Before EZ could reply, he heard a motorcycle making its way down. He watched as Angel stopped in front of the Carniceria.
“I’m going to tell Kevin to stop approaching you.” EZ didn’t feel comfortable involving Olivia in this whole ordeal. He told Kevin time and time again that his point of contact with him would be his father, not Oliva. He knew of the crush that Kevin harbored for Olivia ever since they were children, but Olivia was off-limits, Kevin knew that, he made sure of it. 
“EZ, it’s fine, he just wanted to make sure things were okay.”
“Let me rephrase that, I don’t want him talking to you. He’s putting you in danger.”
“Be reasonable, he’s hardly doing that.” Olivia wanted to tell him that her life was always on the line. That whenever she went to Europe, it might have been the last time she would see EZ when she visited him. Sure, she wasn’t a field agent, but the work she did for Maquina was immensely valuable. Taking her out of the picture would greatly blind Maquina.
Felipe had to hold back a chuckle as he saw how bent over Ezekiel was about Kevin approaching Olivia. Whenever they would have family parties and Olivia attended, Kevin was always far away since Ezekiel did not like how much Kevin tried to impress her. Olivia never seemed to mind Kevin’s presence, which further irritated Ezekiel.
“He’s staying away from you, that’s that.” EZ walked out to meet with Angel. 
Olivia looked at Felipe and sighed. “I’ll just go and say hi to Angel.” She walked out, Angel whistling as she did. 
“Knew there was a reason God wanted me to come to the carniceria.” Their flirty banter was always fun, but Olivia knew it was nothing, hell it was nothing to her and everyone knew who Angel belonged to.  
“Shut up Angel.” EZ put on his helmet. 
Olivia laughed. “Keep your brother safe.”
“Yes mom,” Angel winked at her. “You know I got him.” 
“You coming to give me a hug?” EZ opened his arms. 
Olivia shook her head and hugged him. She loved hugging EZ. It always brought her comfort when she was young and there was no difference now. When she first picked him up from prison, it was such a satisfying feeling. She hugged him tightly and he ended up sleeping over her place that night, catching him up on all the pop culture things that she could do in one night. Ever since then, EZ slept over often and they would just watch endless television shows. 
Currently they were watching Stranger Things, almost caught up with the series. 
“Be safe.” She kissed his cheek.
“Of course, we have to finish Stranger Things.” He smirked. 
She watched as the two brothers drove away. Looking across the street, she saw Alexander outside, shaking his head. The smirk on his face made her chuckle. Alexander was the older brother she never wanted, but she was truly glad to have him in her life. Crossing the street, she made her way towards Alexander, shaking her head. 
“Knew you couldn’t stay away.” 
“You know me, wherever she goes, I go.” Alexander shrugged. “Nathaniel will be disappointed to know you’re around Ezekiel again.”
“Nathaniel isn’t my boyfriend and even if he always understood my relationship with EZ.” Olivia walked in the cafe, a smile immediately spreading across her face. “Melly!” She fondly called out to Melody,
Melody turned around, smiling as her eyes landed on Auntie Olivia. She ran up to her and Olivia caught her, lifting her up in her arms. “Look at you, you’re so big now.” She kissed her cheek. “Mommy is going to be so much nicer now cause you’re here.”
“Haha,” Ailee shook her head. “Liv, did you get the tickets for the Safari Park?”
“Yes, I emailed them to Sierra last night.” Olivia was pretty sure she did, especially since Ailee wouldn’t stop bothering her about it.
“Sierra did get it and I emailed it to both of these difficult people.” Sierra Ayala, Alexander’s assistant and right hand woman replied as she walked towards them. “If you two actually checked your emails, this wouldn’t be an issue.” 
“You’re the best Sierra.” Ailee bowed to her. “We’re all going right?”
“Yes, I figured it would be nice to give everyone a break.” Olivia placed Melody back on the ground. “We can get an AirBNB there and enjoy a few days off after the opening?” 
“Sure, that sounds like a plan.” Alexander agreed. “Sierra, mind booking it for us?”
“It’s what you pay me for.” Sierra teased. “Would you mind if I skip out? I have friends and family in Los Angeles I would like to visit.”
“Sierra, why didn’t you say so? Alexander can handle his vices for the next week. Take the time off, spend time with family.” Ailee suggested. “I can have one of the trainees tend to Alex’s needs.”
Sierra looked apprehensive with Ailee’s suggestion. She’s been on vacation before, but the longest she had been away from Alex was about a week and half before she came back. She was antsy. Alexander was an adult and could handle himself, but she also knew how disorganized Alex was, how terrible he was at checking his calendar. Even though she got a temp while she was gone, she knew how unbearable Alex could be. 
“I see that look, I’ll be fine.” Alex promised her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I know I seem helpless, but I promise I’m not. How much trouble can I get with going to the zoo?” 
Ailee, Olivia and Sierra gave Alexander a look. Alexander rolled his eyes and took Melody. “Come on Melly, we’re not appreciated here.” He walked away, leaving the three women laughing. 
“Is everything in place for Alexander to take over or is Nathaniel and Victor making noise?” Ailee questioned Sierra as they all took a seat around the table.
Sierra placed a tablet in front of Ailee. “Nathaniel doesn’t care much for the illegal side of the business, he however wants to manage the real estate side. Victor, well, you know he has his own business.”
“Matchmaking is hardly a business.” Olivia chuckled. 
“It’s working for him.” Sierra shrugged. “Alexander is poised to take over, but Nathaniel switches his mind every once in a while. Though, it doesn’t seem that their father would hand the business to Nate anyway.” 
“Why, Nate is competent enough.” Olivia had a soft spot for Nate. He was her first boyfriend, the man who made her see a life away from EZ, but they broke up a year ago since Olivia didn’t want to make the move to Spain as he had been requesting.
“Nate also acts on impulse and is not very business minded. He doesn’t think of the long run and thinks of the short run.” Ailee knew that handing Nate the business wouldn’t benefit the Leon’s especially since he wanted to break ties with Maquina, believing they were limiting their potential. “And he wouldn’t keep the relationship with Maquina, which, you know, to each their own.”
“He thinks that they would be fine without Maquina’s protection.” Sierra confirmed Ailee’s words.
“Without our protection, they would be indicted.” Olivia frowned. She knew Nate always just thought that everything was so simple and Olivia couldn’t blame him. Everything was handed to him, whatever he wanted, his parents gave to him. He thought that they were untouchable, that this deal was for Maquina’s benefit, but that was hardly ever the case. 
Maquina swept in before a government agency could indict a certain crime organization, offer them immunity and the ability to continue their operations with no government interference, as long as they remained the most powerful organization in their area, keeping the balance of power and unabling any other organization to take over. It seemed simple, but it was complex. 
It didn’t always work out.
There were eastern european countries that had too many players in the game to truly fully control it, but Maquina had some strongholds in Poland and Romania. Otherwise, every other country was still free for all.
Maquina’s purpose was so fluid. On one hand they were used to assassinate government officials to install a new power. Then other times, they were implanted to empower rebel groups to overthrow out of control regimes. There truly was no black and white in this world, it was whoever benefited who. 
But the Leon’s had a stronghold in West Germany, Spain, and Italy for the last thirty years. With Alexander taking over, they expected for it to continue, even if they were trying to become legit, which was a hoax. 
No one ever went “legit”. Illegal work was always so much more beneficial. 
=============
Creeper parked his motorcycle under the shaded area of the yard, right beside his Hank’s motorcycle. His eyes landed on Vince, as he ate chips atop the picnic table. He knew that Vince was in town as well, which was never a good thing. Two Maquina agents in one place was far too many. It meant that they were implementing a program here, which meant that something or someone has piqued their interest. 
“Creep, this is a sudden phone call.” Vince finished off his chips, crumpling it and making it in the trashcan a few feet away from the picnic table. 
“Something isn’t adding up.” Creeper didn’t want to beat around the bush. Ailee was his younger cousin that he always protected. It killed him to not be able to see her while she faced this jail sentence. He didn’t know how to help her and all he wanted to do was just that. 
“Numbers wise? I don’t do book keeping, you know this.” Vince knew why Creeper called him over. Maybe he was laying devil’s advocate, but he didn’t give a fuck. It was time the Mayans found out what was going on. He was never onboard about keeping them in the dark about Ailee, especially not Angel. 
“Your sister seems haunted.”
“She was in jail for five years.” 
“You know what I mean, that’s not jail.” Creeper sat beside Vince. “Come on, we were all close once. It killed me knowing she was in there. She was the little sister I never had. Be truthful with me, you know you could trust me.”
Vince sighed. He retrieved the folder he was sitting on, handing it over to Creeper. “All the information you want, you need, is in that folder. John and I figured that it would be best for us to be as honest as possible.” John thought it was best to set up life for Ailee after Maquina. Once they took care of Theo, both brothers wanted her away from Maquina. What better place to stay than her safe haven?
“She has a kid?” Creeper questioned.
“Melody is here?” Vince was surprised that his niece was in town, but he figured Alex brought her along. Melody only could be apart from her mother for so long. 
“Is she Angel’s?”
“No, Ailee adopted her from an orphanage in Europe.” Vince explained. He understood Creeper’s confusion, the kid did look like a mixture of Ailee and Angel. But as far as he knew, the kid was adopted. Ailee brought Melody home one day, explaining she was from an orphanage in Spain. “Not Reyes’ kid.”
Creeper eyed him, but ultimately chose to move on. 
“Your sister wasn’t in jail was she?”
“I’ll be back with John later tonight, might want to share that with your brethren.” Vince got off the table, making his way over to his car.
“We have a run later.”
“Tomorrow then.” 
“Vince, why is Maquina setting shop in Santo Padre?”
Vince chuckled. “Why else would we set up shop? There’s a threat that has to be controlled.”
“Galindo?”
“We have bigger cartel’s to worry about before we worry about the Galindo cartel.”
“Who is it?”
“We don’t know yet, but we’ll keep you all updated.” Vince unlocked his car.
Creeper watched as Vince’s car disappeared, sighing. He opened the folder and his hunched was confirmed. Ailee’s release date stated December 14, 2014. Closing the folder, he made his way inside the clubhouse.
“She was never in jail.” Creeper threw the folder down at the table where Angel, Bishop and Taza were sitting. 
“The fuck you mean?” Angel questioned. 
“Vince dropped off all those records right now. You guys saw him.” Creeper sat beside Angel. “She was in jail for that initial two weeks, but otherwise, no other fucking records.”
“That’s fucking impossible.” Bishop had to play charade. He knew Ailee wasn’t in jail, he didn’t make a deal with her uncle for no reason. “Your father saw her.”
“That was during her first two weeks.” Angel looked at the records and she was booked in the jail, her release date was what fucked him up. “It says her release date was December 14, 2014.” 
“Exactly. Ailee was arrested around Thanksgiving when we had that run to Vegas. She was released two weeks later.” Creeper knew something was off. Ailee didn’t even look like she had a hair touched on her head. She looked hardened as if she was in jail, but it wasn’t for survival. 
“Jin most likely bailed her out, using his connections.” Creeper, Taza, Hank and Bishop knew what Maquina was, the rest of the members didn’t, not even Angel. They knew that Jin was a powerful man, but they just had their guesses as to why he was so powerful. Creeper knew of Maquina, the details, not as much, but he knew not to fuck with them. They could make anyone disappear. One call, and it was done.  
“She made a deal.” Angel looked through the paperwork in front of him. It was her release forms. “Jin bailed her out, this is his signature.”
“Well if she made a deal, what could it possibly be?”
It dawned on Angel that whatever business Ailee’s family was involved in, it wasn’t exactly safe. He remembered when they were younger, how Ailee was always in physical activities that involved fighting. Her parents were very adamant that she learned how to defend herself, get good grades and not interact with many people. She was always in her books, books that kids her age at that time shouldn’t be reading. Angel always thought that her parents were strict and rarely let their kids have any fun. Ailee was a very affectionate child, but she was always rejected by her parents. The only time she could enjoy any affection or praise were from his own parents. It was weird how his parents seemed to understand Ailee’s hardship along with her brothers. 
Ailee always said that she didn’t want to get in the family business, it cost your soul, she had told him. But it seemed like that’s what happened.
“It’s her soul. She exchanged her soul for freedom.”
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clenastia · 3 years
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I did a thing! And wrote another little prompt-response, though I don’t remember where I found the prompt before. Probably here on Tumblr, but I always save the interesting ones to a google doc so I’ve lost the post... Perhaps I’ll hunt it down later.
This one’s tentatively called Herald of the Storm, 1300 words, and I definitely plan on adding more parts to it!
Fic below the cut as usual! (im too lazy to re-add my italics right now... ugh)
Prompt: Despite your reputation as a Dark Lord, you have a strict moral code. So when a young girl showing signs of abuse wandered into your realm, you took her in. Now the neighboring kingdom is accusing you of kidnapping their princess. You have to choose between returning her to her abusers or war.
She was so thin, was his first thought upon spotting the girl. So thin it was nearly grotesque, body all sharp angles and painful corners, starvation clear in every inch of her appearance.
Tora may have been a dark lord, may have conquered half a dozen kingdoms and been plotting to conquer half a dozen more, but-
Seeing a young woman look like that, trembling on the steps of his palace, every part of him screamed that it was wrong.
He doesn’t even know who she is, when he first brings her in, feeding her and offering her the full aid of his medical staff. If he lays a few minor spells over her, to encourage healing and rest and peace, well.
Being a dark lord doesn’t stop him from using more blessed magic. Just makes it a bit trickier, is all.
And she needs every blessing she can get.
Even cleaned up, wearing a proper gown, he doesn’t recognize her.
It takes a couple weeks, the girl slowly gaining weight but never opening her mouth, never speaking, only staring at the world with dead eyes, before he even begins to suspect.
The last he saw of Princess Maria, she was a proud, upstanding figure, decrying him for his wicked ways, galvinating her people and encouraging them to stand strong against his tyranny.
It certainly was an effective speech, the military of Doran seeing an influx of recruits. And he, still recuperating from his recent conquest of Illysi, knew he would rather not fight with the large sea-faring kingdom, at least before his numbers recovered.
Perhaps he could take to the field himself, even out his lack of men with his own overwhelming power, but he’s no fool. The more his enemies see of his strength, the easier it will be for them to discover his weaknesses.
And he hardly minds being seen as a languishing ruler, willing only to command his men from afar. It breeds an arrogance in his enemies that is easily corrected when they finally make it through all his guard, certain in their belief that his great power is an exaggeration meant only for intimidation.
Surely though, this cannot be the Sea King’s daughter. Surely he would have heard if such a notable figure had gone missing.
Perhaps it is only a similarity…
He tells himself this, even as she looks ever closer to the princess as her health returns.
She never speaks.
It is enough for him to tell himself she must be a different lady.
Until a page rushes into the medical ward, calling for him by name, and the young miss spins around, eyes seeking desperately until they land on him.
It’s the first time he’s been called anything other than “Your Majesty” in her presence, and he wonders a moment what she must think.
The page interrupts his consideration, bowing deeply as he holds out an opened letter.
“We have received missive from King Austwhil of Doran, to return his daughter or face war with his people!”
Well.
So much for it only being a passing similarity.
Whatever hardship she befell to land on his doorstep, it might be best to get rid of her. He’ll need another year yet before he has all he’ll need to fight with Doran the way he’d prefer.
Only, when he turns to her, he finds her trembling in fear.
She curls back, deep into herself, pressing against the headboard like it might swallow her.
It’s a posture that might make more sense if she were looking at him, if she were focused on him, but even his magic tells him he is not the target of her fear.
It makes no sense.
“Come now Princess, surely you know I have no desire to quarry with your kingdom. I’ll have you returned to your father just as soon as you recover-”
Her head snaps up, eyes wide with fear, and she lunges at him.
She’s weak, weak enough he doesn’t bother to move, and by the time her fingers close around the hilt of his ritual knife it’s far too late to stop her.
His magic won’t work on that blade, won’t wrench it from her grasp or deflect its edge and he stands sharply, kicking his chair over as he moves back, out of range-
But she doesn’t turn the blade towards him, instead stabbing into her leg with a viciousness that has him frozen in shock as he tries to understand-
She jerks the knife out, raises it, and he barely grabs her arm before she could stab herself again.
“Have you gone mad-? What- what’re you doing-?” his hard-earned eloquence deserts him, and he’ll have to kill the staff later, can’t have them spreading rumors but-
“If I don’t heal you won’t send me back.” the Princess’ arms tremble, still desperately trying to stab the blade down, and Tora struggles more than he should to pull the blade from her fingers.
Her words, ghostly silent on her lips, very nearly make him drop the blade he fought to recover.
That.
Is not the response of a happy child.
“Are you so desperate to avoid your home, Princess?”
She flinches.
Tora desperately hopes he’s misunderstanding the situation.
“You realize you’re quite a valuable ransom. I can’t just keep hosting you because you’re upset with your fiance.” he tries to be flippant, but Tora’s already fairly certain this is no drama over an arranged marriage.
No arranged marriage would be worth sheltering in the palace of a man like him.
“I’ll do anything.” she promises in a whisper, curling back into herself now that her weapon is lost. “P-please just- don’t send me back- I can tell you a-about the defences, t-the army, whatever you want so please don’t give me back to him-”
Ah.
That’s a bit harder to explain away.
But it can’t be true, it’s not allowed to be true, because he can’t-
He’s a dark lord and an usurper and a peasant-born fraud he can’t just-
“I don’t want to do it anymore…” she sobs, too-thin shoulders shaking.
His denial crumbles. “What was the Sea King making you do, child?” Tora asks gently, righting his chair with a flick of his wrist and slowly sitting down.
She tenses, waiting nearly an age before her back slowly unwinds itself and she answers.
“I-I don’t know… some sort of magic- th-they kept- taking and taking and taking and it hurt it hurt so much I don’t want to- it hurts I don’t want to- please- please don’t send me back-”
Fury bubbles, a rising crescendo, and perhaps Tora will invite that war regardless.
Kings and their magic, he scorns, standing sharply once again, this time spinning to face his page.
“Fetch me General Hynna at once.” he orders, then glances to the medical staff. “Take care of her, no more visitors. Clearly someone is a spy,” he hisses the last bit, eyes lighting in malice.
Hunting spies is ever so much fun.
The Princess glances up from her shadowed arms, and he offers her as kind a smile as he can manage. “As a Mage King, I can hardly allow such an insult to my powers and my patrons. Have no fear Princess. You’ll return to your country a Queen.”
Perhaps it will not serve him well, in the long run. He has a world to conquer and a beast to fight, and he can do neither if Doran is allowed to rally around their beloved Princess. Especially not with all the allies they have across the sea.
Even so, a father torturing his child for her power is… perhaps too close to home.
He remembers Eitru’s corpse, remembers his vow of Never Again, and he knows that if he breaks it, he will truly have given up the very last of his soul.
Never Again.
It beats in time with his heart, a mantra of fury, and he knows he will not wait for his armies. Not for this.
His General is a competent sort. Between them, they’ll find a way.
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deepeststarfishsong · 4 years
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Thief
Written for @helianthus21, @pray4jensen, & @bend-me-shape-me‘s #SPNStayAtHomeChallenge 20/04 Monday 3. Thief (ahead of time, because what even are schedules at this point?!).
Cross posted to Ao3.
The one where Dean’s love language is 200% Acts of Service. Let’s face it, he’s never been stellar with the feelings words.
When Castiel reappeared at the bunker, he was at the wheel of a stolen, very tragic, jubilee gold 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V. The exterior was in decent shape, but the damn thing was so garishly ostentatious that it made the Impala look like a minivan. Cas, ever stubborn, leaned in harder on his plans to keep it the moment Dean had made an off-color joke about it. Of all the damn cars he could have taken, Cas had to hotwire an outdated, metallic, luxury class coupe so big it had its own damn zip code.
Since Cas has been so insistent about keeping the damn hooptie, Dean figured he may as well get it up to snuff. He had a lot to atone for after Gadreel, the Mark, and Metatron. He never expected Sam and Cas to forgive him, but the fact that they continually did was a testament to their integrity. Team Free Will really put ‘time heals all wounds’ to the grindstone.
And as a result, Dean was up at five thirty on a sunny Saturday morning-there’s no job, no weird headlines in the news, no mysterious deaths in the rural corners of the country. This should have been a lazy day for sleeping in, lounging around the library in his dead guy robe, and making more pancakes that they could possibly eat.
But no, here he was, barely a half cup of coffee in, laying underneath the landboat-changing the oil and looking to replace the sway bar end link bushings. Dean would be damned if Cas was going to drive around the country in a fuckin’ death trap. Better to spend the time he wasn’t sleeping by doing something useful with himself.
He had to get an early start. Regardless of the fact that Cas wouldn’t stir until at least ten o’clock and that he’d hear the heavy stomp of his tired feet well before he made it to the garage, he knew that Cas would fuss about him working on his car. It was easier to get things done while he was still asleep-and this was going to take some time. Easier to ask forgiveness than permission-well in this case anyway.
Dean pulled at the wrench with both hands, trying to force a bolt free through thirty-odd years of rust. It broke loose at the last second. Startled, Dean jumped and banged his head into the undercarriage. “Jesus! Fuck!” Dean could hear his words echoing back around the garage. Dean sighed with frustration and checked his watch. Eight thirty. Time for more coffee.
In his periphery, Dean caught sight of a shadow approaching, pausing at the hood of the car. Dean pushed off from the axel, sliding himself out from beneath it. “Hello, Dean,” Cas’ voice was thick with sleep.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean looked up from the floor. Cas had clearly just woken up, if you could call it that. He was dressed in an oversized crew neck sweater from some roadhouse in Illinois and a pair of Dean’s old gym shorts that were far too short for him to be wearing out of the bunker. Cas rubbed sleepily at his face with the long sleeve of his sweater pulled over his hands. I need at least two more cups of coffee before I’m ready to handle Cas being this damn cute, he thought. Standing up and brushing off his jeans, Dean cokced his head looking at Cas. “Why are you up so early?” I need to fix this.
“I have not been able to feel well rested in some time,” Cas said, voice still thick with sleep.
Dean knew Cas had been restless since he got back, but he didn’t really know the extent of it. Before everything had gone to hell for the seven thousandth time, he and Cas had shared a bed, and much more. If Cas hadn’t been able to sleep then, Dean would pull him close and draw lazy circles in his back to help him relax. Fuck, I haven’t slept more than three hours in one sitting since then, Dean reminded himself. He wasn’t sure it was his place anymore to ask about it, but old habits die hard… “You’re not sleepin’?”
“Not well,” Cas said stiffly. Dean was suddenly much closer to him than he anticipated.
“Come on,” Feeling brave, Dean patted Cas on his arm, “Let’s get some caffeine in you.” Dean walked towards the door to the bunker, pausing to wait when Cas didn’t follow. “Come on,” he said again, voice smooth and low as if he was worried Cas might shout.
Cas followed Dean to the kitchen and accepted a mug of coffee as he set at the table. Staring into the oily black rings of his coffee, Cas could feel himself normalize a bit. Dean plopped down in a chair opposite him, his own cup refilled to the brim.
“Why are you working on my car,” Cas broke the silence. “You are not obligated to fix the Continental.”
“Yeah, I know but…” Dean wasn’t sure what he needed to explain, “…I just didn’t want it to break down on you…”
Cas shook his head, “Dean, that is not your responsibility.” Dean felt the air leave his lungs like he’d been kicked. Things had gotten better, but they weren’t anything like they were before. Maybe some things can’t be fixed.
“I know, but I can fix it…” Dead added weekly, trying to put all his attention on his cup.
“Dean.” Cas’ voice was steady, direct. Awake. Dean looked up, surprised at the change in tone. Cas looked him in the eye, and reached his hand across the table, setting it on top of Dean’s. “You are under no obligation.” His words were loaded.
“I just need… need to fix this,” Dean replied.
Cas squeezed his hand, “You are not obligated to do anything. You have nothing to fix.” Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Cas talked over him, “But if working on my car is helpful for you, then I am appreciative of your services.” Dean just blinked, trying to make sure he was hearing right.
Cas stood, still moving slow despite the clarity of his voice, and pulled Dean up to him. Dean let himself be handled, grateful for the contact. “The car isn’t truly mine, regardless.”
“It’s your car now. What was it you said about theft being okay sometimes?” Dean scrunched his nose trying to remember.
Cas let out a quiet laugh, “‘Stealing, of course, is a crime, and a very impolite thing to do. But like most impolite things, it is excusable under certain circumstances.’ I read that in one of your stolen library books.”
“Exactly. You needed this car to get back to us,” Dean said hopefully.
“To get back home to you,” Cas corrected him, pulling him close to his chest and pressing a kiss to his temple.
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adhdstudybitch · 5 years
Text
Practical Tips for ADHD College Students
I know a few posts like this already exist, but I wanted to add my own experiences to the mix in case it would be helpful to someone else. Some of these will look familiar, some not so much.
Disclaimers: 1) What works for me may not work for you, take everything with a grain of salt and experiment, 2) These are what I’m using for a 4-year school but I imagine it would be applicable for any college? I wish I’d known to do some of these things when I was at CC, 3) I won’t pretend that I am an ADHD success story, not yet. I’m still finding my way, learning to cope, learning to thrive. It’s a process.
NOTE: This post is kinda long; if it’s too long I recommend just reading the bolded/italicized headings and only reading the ones that pique your interest :)
Sensory Issues:
Wear comfortable clothing: Screw the mentality that you always have to look your best in college. At the end of the day, feeling hot but ridiculously uncomfortable will trigger sensory issues (especially if you’re someone who is sensitive to certain materials/styles of clothing) and it will impact concentration and can cause a lot of distress. Are you comfortable in those sweatpants, pajama bottoms, baggy shirts? Cool, wear them. 
Stim toys: Love yourself, buy (or make!) stim toys and bring them to school. Can’t speak for CC because I didn’t use stim toys when I went, but at my 4-year school everyone is too busy drowning in deadlines to notice you squishing thinking putty or using a fidget cube under the table. 
Try different stim toys: I used to get caught up on trying to make the more popular stim toys work for me when they didn’t, so I had to experiment a bit to see what worked. It’s not always as simple as cubes, spinners, squishy toys, etc. If you have issues with texture you’ll want to really experiment, especially with things like putty, squishibles, etc. to see what is comfortable and what isn’t. But there’s a big ol’ market out there!
Headphones/Earplugs: The single most helpful sensory detail for me was always bringing my headphones to campus. I get easily overstimulated in uncontrolled situations with lots of different sounds. I make sure my volume is enough to block the noise out, but the songs I choose in these instances are usually familiar, so they don’t provide too much new stimulation when I can’t handle it. I also keep earplugs in my backpack for exams.
Studying/School Related:
If possible, leave your house: This has been one of the hardest changes I’ve had to make because I’m an introvert and genuinely prefer being home. But I’m starting to learn that my ass will not do work 9/10 times when I’m home. Too much to do, too many other things to get done, lots of fun distractions, and cats! So many cats! Unfortunately cats won’t take my exams. I’ve found that the library is okay, but for me small cafes worked much better. Armed with my headphones, some coffee, and an atmosphere that caters to silently getting work done, I’m able to focus longer, and to focus on what I really need to.
Note-taker: Admittedly I’m talking out of my ass on this one, because I haven’t yet done this. But that’s exactly why I want to stress getting a note-taker. My college life would be infinitely better if I’d done this when the semester started; instead, my notes have gaps where I couldn’t concentrate, or couldn’t process what was being discussed, etc. 
Other accommodations: Accommodations for ADHD differ depending on the college, but some of the common ones are: note-takers, silent exam spaces, assignment extensions, and use of tech such as recorders, speech-to-text software... If you’re like I was and are worried that you’re asking too much asking for accommodations, remember two important things: 1) Accommodations exist to level the playing field, not to give us an edge, and 2) YOU PAY FOR THIS SERVICES. That huge, overwhelming tuition bill with all those “extra fees”? You’re paying for these services already, might as well take advantage of them!
Talk to your professors: This part is truly terrifying for me, but I’ve started opening up this semester to my professors and it has made a difference. The professor for my hardest class actually has a son with adhd so she understood and was even able to provide me with some resources that would help. At the very least, it made my professors aware of my struggles and aware that I wasn’t just being lazy, which calmed my RSD a bit.
Organization: Staying organized is important for any college student, but especially for those with adhd. We lose things a lot, and if things aren’t in obvious, constant places it becomes so much easier to lose or forget where we put things. That being said, your ‘organized’ will probably not be other peoples ‘organized’. For example, I use my Ipsy bags for organization. One holds any writing utensils, flashcards, and post-its, another holds anything medical-related, etc. It seems a bit cluttered and disorganized to other people but it works for me. So try keeping things in the same spot if possible, but remember that finding what organizational structures work for you might take time and effort. If your school has success coaching, I highly recommend it for this purpose! Which brings me to the next point.
Success Coaching: Most colleges offer some kind of program like this, though names may differ. Success Coaching is designed for students of any academic level in order to help them get and stay on track. My college offers study skills, schedule planning, test prep, time management, help navigating campus resources, and a whole host of others. And the people doing the coaching are usually grad students who’ve been through the process. They’re typically trained in working with students with adhd, because that tends to be a significant portion of their students. They’re also just really nice to talk to. Almost like a therapist, but not quite.
Really forgetful? The best thing you can do is change your environment, not try to change yourself. You probably won’t be able to stop your brain from forgetting your notebook at home, but you can get a five subject and keep it in your backpack at all times. Same with folders. Keep losing pens/pencils? Just get a fuckton and shove them in a pouch in your backpack in the beginning of the semester. I’m not kidding when I say I have at least 20 pens and pencils in mine, not including the glitter pens and highlighters. 
Planners: Many people have said that it will take time to find just the right planner for you, and they’re correct. The planner I use right now is 8x11 with wide boxes. Some prefer smaller planners, others will use planner apps or just the calendar in their phone. You’ll have to mess around a bit to see what works for you, but you do have options!
Printables: Oh man I love printables so much, but a lot of the time I find that they’re more trouble maintaining than my adhd can handle. You can find a ton on tumblr, free to download and print, and some very beautiful packs for sale on etsy. Right now I use a monthly budget printable and one for studying terms/definitions. Sometimes the adhd mind needs something pretty and different to cling to, so I try to switch things up every so often.
Color-coding: This absolutely will not work for everyone (I’ve seen people say color-coding notes gets the hung up on the coding and not the notes, and I can definitely see that happening). For me, I use color-coding in my planner. Each class gets its own color. This keeps me from seeing a page covered in the same color of ink or pencil and mentally blocking it out. Gelly roll has the most amazing glitter pens!
Test prep: Will vary depending on the person and how they learn best, but for me I’ve found that no one method will work on its own. I have class notes, typed notes, hand-written flashcards, flashcards on quizlet. I won’t pretend that it’s easy; it’s fuck-all time consuming and sometimes I don’t have energy for it, but depending on the class I usually need a combination of at least two different methods to work. This is definitely something success coaching can work with you to figure out!
General Life Advice (that will impact college):
Get on a sleep schedule: I don’t even care what your particular schedule is (because it’ll vary person to person) but just get on one. Much easier said than done, because our brains never want to shut up at night, but lack of a consistent sleep schedule will mess with your concentration, focus, hypersensitivity, etc. 
I’ll just do this later...: is the adhd monster talking. What even is later? Does it exist? Sometimes I have to tell myself “nope, we’re doing this right now!” Doesn’t always work, but I try my hardest to do things in the moment if executive dysfunction isn’t at my door.
Develop a support system: This can be difficult because sometimes making and maintaining friendships with adhd can be hard, and sometimes family members aren’t very receptive or supportive. But a strong support system can make all the difference in the world! If your current friends don’t understand the extent of what you’re dealing with, send some resources their way and you might be surprised how fast they get in your corner. But sometimes people without adhd just don’t get it. If your college has a meet-up for students with adhd like mine does, this is a great place to meet like-minded students who understand what you’re going through and can provide support and advice! 
I’m going to stop this here because it’s already too long, but I hope this is helpful to someone and I’d love it if you could add your own tips as well! 
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impala666 · 4 years
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Do It For You (1/?)
Okay, I did it after all. A Lenny Bruce x reader fic. But because I am lazy it will be in as many parts as it needs to be for it to be done. Enjoy!!!!!
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Imagine being one of Mirium’s best friends. You’ve always been the rebel in your family but you haven’t quite broken out of your shell like Miriam has with her comedy. But when Lenny Bruce comes into your life that is all about to change.
You just finished watching one of Miriam’s friends do their comedy set. After seeing Miriam stand up on the stage at The Gaslight, you had been just a little obsessed with stand up comedy. While Miriam always told you that you were hilarious in your own right, you just never had the courage to stand under a spotlight. Other than sneaking to The Gaslight away from your family and the men they tried to set you up with and watching Miriam do her thing, this was your first comedy show. The man that Miriam took you to see was THE Lenny Bruce, of course you had only heard of him, you were over the moon that Miriam dragged you out of some place that wasn’t The Gaslight or the makeup counter at work. 
All of the men that your family set you up with always fell under their category and of course any man’s code. The men were always boring, bookish (not that there is anything wrong with that), rude, and controlling. Obviously none of them ever worked out because it was always your fault, even to your family. Your whole life you were always the loud one, the too open one, the flousy. Even though you had never done anything to earn that particular nickname, a man had to actually stick in order for that happen. Of course you had done things like sex with men when your family sent you to college, but again they never stayed because you were too “outspoken and never did a thing that a girl like you was supposed to do.”
“Oh my, God he was fucking funny,” you exclaimed to Miriam after he finished his set. You sat there wiping the tears from your eyes you laughed so hard. You would never tell her, but Lenny Bruce seemed to be everything you needed. He was brash, outspoken, hilarious, but still a sweetheart. At least he looked like one.
“I told you so. Now you know why you need to get out more instead of watching me say fuck on stage.” She sipped from her martini.
“Oh you know why I can’t. First off I would have to leave my family, which they would disown me for, for sure. Then I’d have to find a better job than the makeup counter, which of course no newspaper company wants to hire a woman, let alone an unmarried one. Whether she’s qualified or not.” You angrily circled the rim of your glass and took a sip. 
“But if you are that upset about your living situation, then you should get out even if it’s hard. At least have some fun once in a while.” You knew that Miriam was trying to help, and she was right. You just didn’t know how, didn’t know which direction to go, and it made you want to cry or throw something. 
“Then why don’t you change your living situation?” You asked raising a perfectly plucked  eyebrow at her with a growing smirk.
“I will drink to that,” she shook her head in agreement and reached over to clink your glasses together. To which you happily obliged, and you both downed the rest of your cocktails.
“Well, well, well. What are we toasting to over here?” You heard a man ask from behind you, but you knew it was for Miriam so you didn’t even bother looking up from your drink. Miriam and you made eye contact having your usual silent conversation, asking if she could share the honest answer. You shrugged but decided to answer for the both of you which was normally very out of character for you; you figured it must have been the few drinks that you had during the show. 
“We toasted to families and society and how fucked up they really are.” You went to look up at the man who was wearing a smirk of his own when he heard the answer come from you and not Midge. 
“And which one’s more fucked up?” He asked trying to challenge you, but the way he looked at you. It felt like it was different than other men. 
“Oh, I think they’re one in the same.” You commented back, causing the man to chuckle. 
“So, who’s your friend here Midge? I don’t think I’ve seen her before?” He asked leaning against the back of Midge’s chair.
“This is one of my best friends, Y/N L/N.” Miriam gestured to you with a bright smile. “And, Y/N, I am happy and proud to introduce the great Lenny Bruce. Your set tonight was amazing, as all ways. You even made Y/N cry she was laughing so hard.”
“Oh, yeah?” Lenny looked down at you with a charming smile. 
“Absolutely, you almost made me pee myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard a man laugh or say anything funny, maybe ever. But really it was very, very good.” You looked up at him and you couldn’t stop smiling, which made his smile grow, making you blush like the idiot you were. 
“Thanks, darlin. I’m going over to the bar for a drink anybody need a drink, Midge?” Lenny nudged her, Miriam shook her head and raised her half full martini glass. “Ms. Y/N?” God, why couldn’t you stop smiling.
“I’ll take whiskey and coke?” You asked him, expecting him to reprimand you like everyone else, but it never came. He just nodded his head, still smirking and strolled on over to the bar. But of course you couldn’t help but notice the back side of him as he walked away. 
“Oh God,” Miriam started laughing. “What was that?” She couldn’t stop laughing.
“What was what?” You asked, pretending to not know what she was talking about, so you just pretended to be looking at something else. 
“I introduced the two of you, and then it was like I was completely invisible. You like him.” Miriam looked at you almost expecting you to be in denial. Which she got correct because you shook your head no. 
“No, I don’t. I mean he’s not bad looking and he’s hilarious.” You excused.
“Yes, you do, Y/N, and I know he likes you too. It was like I wasn’t even here.” She argued.
“He did like me didn’t he,” the both of you leaned towards each other giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls. “But come on Midge. You know I would never be able to date a man like that, my family wouldn’t let me.”
“Y/N,” Miriam reached over to grab your hand in a friendly way. “I know that you’re scared of dating someone who your family doesn’t approve of or someone that they set you up with. But sometimes you need to do things for yourself, otherwise you will never be happy. Besides, I see the way you are when we’re out together or at work, who you are is bright, funny, and not afraid to speak her mind. Personally, I like that girl better and you should let her loose more.” You finally managed the courage to make eye contact with Miriam, because you liked that woman you were when your parents were not around just as she said. “Plus, even though the two of you just met. Lenny is over at that bar still staring at you.” You counted to three and looked to the bar over your shoulder, and sure enough there he was turning his head away when you looked over. You turned back around trying to hold back your smile as a blush started to creep all the way to your ears this time. “Since you met him, you have not stopped smiling and I can not remember the last time I’d seen you smile. He will be good to you and for you, I promise.” Miriam’s eyes shifted upward and she cleared her throat. “Shh, he’s coming back.”
“Shh, you were the only one talking” you laughed out.
“Here you go,” Lenny smirked down at you as he placed your drink in front of you, before pointing to the empty seat. “This seat taken?” He looked at Midge then looked back at you.
“No, no it’s open.” You gestured toward the empty spot. “Be my guest.”
“And I think that I will,” he pulled the chair out and sat down next to you. Closer than any man has tried to be to you since college; you were allowed to be a kindred spirit then.
“Oh, shit,” Miriam announced all of a sudden. Bruce and you snapped your eyes away from each other’s and looked  over at her with confusion. “I just remembered that Susie needed to talk to me about something at The Gaslight and I am so late, I’m so sorry.” She jumped to her feet and grabbed her purse. She was lying just to get the two of you alone, and you knew that she was lying; one, because she had always been awful at it. And two, because she never admitted when she was late.
“Sure you do,” you let slip out. Just so you could let her know that it was obviously bullshit. 
“Sorry, Y/N, we’ll do another girl’s night some other time. I have to go.” She grabbed her purse and bolted for the bar door and left. 
“Unbelievable,” you scoffed under your breath. 
“Yeah,” Lenny agreed but he was only staring at you.
“I guess I should go?” You asked him, even though you didn’t really want to.
“Okay, but do you?” Lenny asked.
“Do I what?” You furrowed your brows. He smirked and chuckled at your ignorance.
“You said you should go,” Lenny started.
“Yes,” you copied him as you waited for him to finish.
“But do you want to go?” You cocked your head to the side and took a sip of your drink. No one had ever asked you want you wanted to do. 
“No, for once I just want to actually drink with someone that I can talk to without having to be worried about being home at a certain time.” You answered him honestly.
“This is your first show ain’t it?” He asked, but Lenny started smiling like he already knew the answer.
“Kind of, yes. Midge was my first show, but that was by accident. I had heard of you and, you know, stand up comedy and I had always wanted to see one but my parents and rest of my family wouldn’t let me. The only thing I am supposed to be looking forward to is church, I practically had to beg them to let me get a job and go to school. I can’t even talk or say what I want.” You looked up and saw Lenny just staring at you. “I’m sorry, I’m just going on.”
“No, it’s good. If it makes you feel better.” Lenny shrugged as he took out a cigarette and lit it. “But tell me something?” His voice slightly jumbled from the cigarette in his mouth. “When was the last time you did something because you wanted to, be damned what anyone else has to say?” He took the cig out of his mouth.
“Never,” that was an easy answer for you. On the outside you knew you looked under control, but inside it felt like you were caged and getting angry and no one was listening to you because people felt like they didn’t have to. 
“Then stay and drink with me.” Lenny offered as he handed you the cig. 
“Fuck it,” you mummbled as you took the cig and brought it to your lips. As soon as you exhaled it felt and sounded like you were about to cough up a lung. “Should I also mention that I never smoked before either.”
“Then what have you done?” You expected Lenny to be annoyed or disappointed, maybe a mix of both. But he just sat there with his adorable smirk on his face.
“I’ve had sex.” It was quiet for a second but then the both of you just started laughing.
“Oh, then you’re definitely gonna wanna stick with me kid.” He put one hand on your knee, which you didn’t hate, and he slid you your drink so that you could breathe easier. And you could. You could breathe a whole lot better now.
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