#smart city coupe
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I just think it's funny how dany has basically experience damn near everything a person/leader could experience in her short lifetime (except for a loving family). every possible disaster or crisis, she's been there already. miserable and abused family + marriage? survived it. miscarriage? been there, done that. murder? ye. leading a ragtag band thru a fucking desert and almost dying (again)? handled it. facing off against magical undead weirdos? got her first braid for it. conquering cities and inciting revolution? plotting violence and survival? making herself a queen, reconfiguring an economy, dealing with a plague, a coup, a war on several fronts, a sassy blue-haired mistress, creepy advisors, not very smart advisors, scheming advisors, magical visions, magical animals? done all that (to varying degrees of success) and then some.
by the time she gets to westeros, she's gonna be so unfazed by the ice zombies and it'll be hilarious. of course this would happen now. she's cursed to experience everything and anything that could Possibly happen so now, of course, she's gotta face off against some ice zombies and the heart of winter (whatever tf that is).
#when she finally gets to experience the found family trope ive been dreaming about .........#asoiaf#daenerys targaryen#mine
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Comme Les Fleurs - Chapter 1
Chapter 1: First Impressions
Summary: Left with no other options, Kylian must rehab his newly injured leg at a stranger’s home for the next month and she isn’t at all what he expects. Meanwhile, Aurèle has to deal with easily-irritated and sullen Kylian as she opens her home to him.
Word Count: 6.1k
Warnings: cursing
Note: At the end, happy readings! (:
“For how long?” Kylian’s eyes shoot between the team’s psychologist, Dr. Minic, and his coach. Both of their faces are unyielding to the reluctance of Kylian’s voice.
“A month.”
“You want me to uproot my entire life for a month? At someone’s random house?” Kylian is quick to his feet, despite the ache that runs through his sore thigh. He shifts his entire weight onto his crutches and uninjured leg.
“Sit down,” Galtier reprimands, beckoning him to take a seat with an outstretched arm. Kylian lets out a scoff before he takes a seat back in the chair. “You’ve had a blow to your calf. One that you got for being careless! If you had just kept your head leveled and never went for that tackle, you wouldn’t have wound up in this situation.”
Kylian stares out the window behind Galtier’s head, knowing the words were true. Kylian had played reckless; not caring for the fouls he was committing and being frustrated that none of his teammates' passes were connecting. He had committed a dirty tackle early on, him and the other player then continuing to butt heads throughout the game.
And then finally, Kylian got a breakaway, but he was so selfishly aware of his inability to execute the ball that he forced himself through traffic when he should’ve passed the ball to an open Messi. After one too many sloppy touches trying to regain the ball, he felt a searing pain rip through his calf. He was quick to blame the Marseille player, immediately rising to his feet and pushing him. Once the Marseille player got up to shove an off-balanced Kylian, he fell to the floor harshly, only clutching onto his leg.
He wanted to argue to Galtier that his calf deciding to strain was not because of the opposing team and the foul attitude they put him in throughout the game, but it was. He was trying to prove to himself and the team that he could tie up the match if he was just given one more chance. It was something he had been doing since the World Cup; trying to prove to everyone that he still had it in him despite the sour taste of finishing in second place. And after another failed season at PSG, the last way he wanted to end the season was with a loss at home. No Coupe de France. No UCL. And now no Ligue 1 title.
“I think it would be a good idea for you to get out of the city, but not be too far,” Dr. Minic inquires. “A change in environment. Somewhere calm.”
“I can do that at my apartment,” Kylian replies. “Or in Switzerland—anywhere, really.”
Noé Martin, the team’s main physiotherapist, shakes his head, “Somewhere preferably that is one floor and where I can visit regularly.”
Kylian tuts, groaning at the idea of being sent away to the ‘middle of nowhere’ for the next month of his break. His injury was still a day old and they already had an outrageous recovery plan.
“Will you be there to facilitate my recovery?”
Martin nods, “I’ll visit. But you’ll be in good hands, I taught her everything she knows, a bright student of mine.”
“I don’t know her.”
Martin waves Kylian’s worries away, “She’s the best. Quick with her thinking and has dealt with these kinds of textbook injuries. She has a nice yard for you to do some running once you get to that point. Oh, and a good cook.”
“Why doesn’t she work with us if she’s the best?”
“She denied my offer.”
Kylian raises his eyebrows with interest, “Why?”
“I guess you’ll just have to ask her yourself.”
Kylian quiets down as he thinks about it. He didn’t have much of a choice now that everyone sided against him. He could try to tell Galtier that it wasn’t a smart idea but if both the physiotherapist and psychologist recommended it for him, there was no reason to continue discussing.
It was just going to be a month. Living with a complete stranger and her healing hands as Martin put it. Somewhere secluded without the presence of fans and overly eager journalists. He hoped that he could invite some of his friends and family to this place at the minimum.
Kylian leans back into his seat, his fingers running along the metal of his crutches, “When do I start?”
“Today,” Galtier advises. “If you want to be fit for the rest of your break and the next season, what are we waiting for?”
Kylian nods absentmindedly, “Fine, let’s get the month started then, and then I’m coming back to Paris.”
------
“This isn’t exactly a one floor house,” Kylian comments as the view of the wooden house comes into view. It was taller than it was wide. The brown was rich because of the previous downpour that the area had gotten. Despite the windows being closed, the smell of the wet grass was enough to make him sneeze.
Martin looks back at Kylian from the passenger seat, “You’ll be staying on the first floor.”
“Perfect,” Kylian whispers.
The van bounces on the rocky surface as it roars up the driveway. As he looked through the lit up windows, he could make out what seemed to be books on shelves in the first room beside the front door. The upstairs blinds had been drawn up, not minding anyone who viewed the inside. It wasn’t like they could see much anyway because he sure couldn’t. And she certainly didn’t have to worry about peeping neighbors because the last house he saw was over five kilometers away.
Martin and Dr. Minic hop out of the car, quick to aid Kylian onto the ramp that led him to the front door. They then grab his duffel bags and suitcases from the trunk.
“Try not to be sour,” Martin warns. “She’s also finding out about this arrangement just now, too.” Kylian can only muster up an unenthused smile as he comes into contact with the owner, but it quickly morphs into a strained cough.
She wasn't what he had in mind. He thought someone older, perhaps in their forties—knowing that Martin had taught at a university many years ago—so that meant whoever she was had to be older, but she isn’t. She’s around his age. That single piece of information has his irritation dissipating out of his throat and the etched scowl leaves his face immediately.
“This is Kylian,” Martin motions, his palm squeezing around Kylian’s shoulder.
Kylian gives her a timid wave, his crutch swinging with him, “Hi.”
“Hi!” She beams, her gaze glancing down at his boot. “I’m Aurèle, but you can just call me Aurie.” He doesn’t realize his own eyes are traveling down to her smile until he chokes, getting lost in the way her cheeks rose. He never thought a pair of cheeks and the crinkle beside her eyes could make his breathing so difficult to control. Not even the most back and forth game he’s played in had him jutting his mouth open for oxygen like this. “It’s nice to meet you, come on in.”
The three of them follow closely behind her, Martin’s strict glare towards Kylian doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Kylian soaks in his new surroundings for the time being. The small area to the right, the one he was able to see from the car, was a small library. A little circled table with two chairs filled the room, floor to ceiling bookshelves covered the walls of them. Towards the side seemed to be a small closet and restroom. The kitchen is pretty spacious despite a wall covering it from the living room. The dining room and living room seemed to be the main focus of the first floor, and a room hidden behind the kitchen that he couldn’t make out. But what caught his eye the most were the abundance of plants that cluttered walls and ceiling. Some were hanging down like vines while other pots were just held by a rope.
He scoffs.
“Take a seat, I’m sorry everything is a bit cluttered,” she apologizes, pointing to a stack of textbooks on the living room table. Besides that, it wasn’t messy at all, very clean and smelled of rustic leather. “I’ve been in and out of the house, trying to have everything perfect.”
Aurie lets out a nervous chuckle and Kylian’s eyes dart towards her, already feeling light on his feet from the rhythmic sound of her giggle. She isn’t looking at him though, instead looking at her mentor, Martin. For a second there, he almost wants to slap his hand across his face for thinking that sweet laugh was directed towards him.
“Anyway, I know you guys have to get back to Paris, so we can start off quickly with any instructions.”
Dr. Minic nods, pulling out the journal he kept in his back pocket, “I want you to start with monitoring his mood closely.” Kylian rolls his eyes now remembering why he was here in the first place. He decides to focus on the many photos and artwork that hang on the walls. “Kylian has a natural tendency to be easily irritable, but if anything seems too over that line, you note it.”
She nods her head, listening to his instructions despite Kylian sitting next to them. It was a bit unusual to discuss the procedures in front of the patient, but everything needed to be as transparent as possible when it came to the seriousness of Kylian’s injury.
Martin chimes, “You know the obvious protocol, but I want to view your treatment plan before you start. We’re going to go ahead and start recovery in two days, that way some of the swelling can go down. But if his swelling hasn’t gone down to a decent amount, wait one more day. He already knows that he shouldn’t be up and moving around.”
Dr. Minic agrees, closing his journal, “I think that was my only concern. I look forward to seeing you next weekend with an update.”
He suddenly stands and Martin follows suit, directing their attention to Kylian to tell him their goodbyes before she walks them out of the house.
It was an awkward and sudden shift for her too. Just yesterday she was setting up the weekly bingo event for the retirement home she worked at, to having a very animated phone call from Martin. He had to persuade her to open up her home for Kylian, having used her home for previous patients but this one was of course different. She wasn’t harboring the star of the world a couple of days ago.
Kylian on the other hand, is busy on his phone, groaning at the slow service. He was trying to find the address, knowing he was somewhere in the outskirts of Paris but couldn’t pin the exact location.
Entering the living room, she greets him again, a little hesitant on what to do with him, “So um, the downstairs doesn’t necessarily have a bedroom. The couch you sit on turns into a bed, so I’ll have to set it up for you each night until you can do it yourself. Restroom is right over there and everything in the fridge and house, you are welcome to have. Your bags, for the moment, will be in this room over here behind the kitchen—it used to be a bedroom but we had to turn it into a little gym and rehab room.”
Kylian slowly nods his head, too focused on his phone to listen to every word she says. The address had finally loaded; he was only an hour away, not all that far from his drivers.
“Next week, you should be able to go up the stairs more comfortably and you’ll have a bedroom up there. So for the meantime, I apologize that you won’t have much privacy,” she says meekly.
What finally pulls him out of his trance is Aurie reaching down in front of him, he looks up, startled to see her this close.
“Go ahead and rest your leg up on the table,” she pats on the wood. He does it reluctantly. “I’m going to take off the brace and get you on ice, we won’t be doing anything today anyway. Any pain?”
He nods, his eyes pinching closed as she unstraps the boot, “Yeah, a lot. It feels sore.”
“It’s a lot more than sore,” she mutters, a smile forming on her face. Her witty remark has him suddenly on edge, it was her first and it definitely took him by surprise. Aurie had attempted to break the tension, but instead, the corners of his eyebrows were drawn down.
“Who even are you?” He sits up, leaning closer to her. His hand lands right on top of hers to stop her from unbuckling the straps. She tugs her hand away from his contact quickly. It was too warm and soft, way beyond the lines of professionalism, but so was her comment, she realizes.
And his harsh gaze caught her off guard. She knew he was going to be upset because of the change and recent injury, but she didn’t expect his eyes to darken the longer she stared at him.
“I’m a physiotherapist and am going to be in charge of your recovery for the time being.”
His hand wraps around the buckle of his boot, clasping it closed, “Are you sure you're qualified?”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t look a day older than me,” he spits.
She’s completely taken aback now. Martin certainly didn’t warn her about this, but she assumed this is what ‘easily irritable’ meant. She sits back, her hands clasping onto her thighs, “I’m sorry, it seems we got off the wrong foot so how about we just restart? I’m Aurie, I’m only a couple of months older than you, not that my age matters, but like what Martin told you, he taught me everything I need to know.”
Kylian bites onto his tongue, his eyes transfixed on her hands fidgeting against her thighs. She was just some months older than him and that seemed to make him lower his walls an inch or two. She was trying, while he certainly wasn’t. Maybe he should start. He rolls his eyes at his thoughts, “Martin seems to trust you, but after taking a glimpse at the books you keep on your bookshelf, I don’t think he was right.”
“Do you want me to call him for you?” She pulls her phone out of her pocket, quickly searching for Martin’s number.
This causes a rise out of Kylian, he sits up further, grimacing as he bangs his leg onto the coffee table. “No.”
“Okay then,” she says, forcing a polite smile towards him. Shoving the stack of textbooks to the other corner of the table, she sits down, his leg still in front of her. “I’m in charge of minimizing the swelling for the moment, can you let me do that? Trust me, the faster you cooperate, the quicker I can be done and out of your hair.”
He watches her hands hover over his leg again, pausing to look up at him, waiting for his permission to continue. He silently exhales, giving her a small nod and she unstraps his boot. Before she takes the brace off entirely, she gets up to retrieve an ice pack to minimize some of the pain he was feeling.
Kylian watches her every step, still stunned at how she held her ground. He had felt a bit guilty for his sudden outburst when Aurie was in the same position he was, and the shooting pain he had down his leg settled him back into his senses, knowing that she was the only one able to take the pain away.
“Are you comfortable this way? You’ll have to be seated like this for at least fifteen minutes,” she asks, crouching down at his leg. He silently nods, letting her do her work.
She slides the brace from underneath his leg while he bites onto his lip to stifle any pain he expected but none came. The only thing he felt were her fingers as they maneuvered the ice pack underneath him. His eyes don’t stray from scanning her crouched frame. The simple task of taking off the boot seemed so easy for her to do, and she did it without causing pain in just a few stealthy moves. Maybe Martin was right, but Kylian wasn’t going to admit that anytime soon.
“I’m going to go ahead and start dinner until the timer goes off,” she glances at him.
“Okay.” He’s completely entranced with the way her hands held onto the timer to set it. She tosses it up before catching it, and then walks towards the kitchen.
“I hope you like stew,” she teases. She looks over her shoulder with a grin and his mouth opens, but then shuts closed. His eyes end up giving away his amusement.
------
“Why don’t you work at PSG if you’re as good as they say?” Kylian asks after too many minutes of silence. He was sitting across from her and she could feel his eyes on her the entire time he ate. He didn’t even seem to care when she caught his stares, just continuing to stare right through her.
The spoon clanks against the glass bowl as she sets it down, “It was just too much of a drastic change. I was there for a month before I refused an extension from Martin.”
“You were there with us?”
“Yes, but I only worked during training, never on the sidelines.”
He nods, it makes sense. He would have definitely remembered her face if he had seen her before because she would’ve stood out like a sore thumb in a group full of men. “Did Martin get on your nerves so much that you decided to leave?”
She smiles, taking in the kind light that glowed on his features. He didn’t seem as upset as before. Once she had taken the ice pack off of him, he took a nap on the couch and that seemed to have awakened a different man than the one before.
“Not necessarily. I was used to chronic injuries and chronic problems, that being around acute injuries was different. I’ve worked with older people extensively, so you know, they’ve lived their lives and dreams and everything they wanted to do—or they didn’t—but are still focused on the positives of their life,” she says. Kylian’s eyes don’t waver away from the smile that sweeps across her face.
She shrugs, “And then I was met with Neymar.” She chuckles and Kylian’s shoulders roll forward as he laughs. “I had seen the poor guy everyday. The more I was with him, the more stories he told me, and how he hated not playing. And then he would return to play, but then boom, be back in the room that same day.
“I got too emotional, too sad to know that whatever kind of precautions he took, sudden injuries were possible. Or in his case, because of the playstyle he has, his ankles were always going to be a problem for defenders. I disliked seeing how heartbroken he was and the others alongside him that it made me sad. How some players fight so hard for something and then it can just be gone that quickly or never comes…”
Her voice gradually fades away into a sobering tone and Kylian has to pry his eyes away from hers. He didn’t want to think of his own injury like that, and he certainly didn’t want to reminisce about lost opportunities.
“I would get too upset at seeing him in that room. He became a great friend, but god, did I dislike seeing him under those circumstances. It was like everything we worked on for weeks, anything new I tried on him, was for nothing,” she shudders and glances at Kylian’s wide eyes. Her words had startled him. “Anyway, I’m sorry about going on a tangent, I didn’t think it would get to that—”
“It’s okay, I had asked,” he waves her off, knowing that she sensed the sudden shift of the room.
“I don’t know how Martin does it,” she retreats. “Being the first on the field in a loud stadium like that, I did it once and froze up on the spot.”
He chuckles, enjoying the way her voice changed to being lively. “Are you going to tell me about it?”
She groans, “It isn’t all that much entertaining. It was a simple cramped up muscle, but I just froze up trying to take out the right bottle so I ended up spraying him with water, having grabbed a water bottle by accident.”
Kylian smirks, “But Martin said you were bright and a quick thinker.”
“I usually am, but that was a bad moment—a rookie mistake. After that, I immediately knew I didn’t belong on the field.”
His eyes trail down to her lips, his own heart suddenly soothing at the sight of it. The bubbling feeling rising in his chest is so unfamiliar that he presses his fingers to his chest to stop it.
“I should probably start washing the dishes so we can wind down, we have a big day tomorrow.” She stands up and grabs his dish, walking both of their bowls to the sink.
“I thought I was on bedrest?”
“You are, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go out to the retirement home with me,” she offers. Aurie’s back is facing him so she doesn’t see the confusion that grows on his face. “We have a bingo match to host.”
“Bingo?”
“Bright and early tomorrow.”
“You can’t be serious,” he deflates. “Martin said I needed to stay out of the public, that’s the whole reason why I’m here.”
She faces him, picking up the sleeves of her long sweater, “They’re in their seventies, they aren’t going to recognize you. It isn’t what you think it is.”
He tilts his head, “How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“You’re thinking it’s some giant hospital or charity event,” she guesses, and he blinks rapidly. She had guessed right. Shaking her head, she turns away from him and starts washing the dishes, “It isn’t like that. Just a little building that’s about a ten minute drive from here.”
Kylian chews on his lip, knowing that he wouldn’t mind leaving to see what this side has to offer. Feeling the need to help her out despite his injury, he gets up quietly and hobbles towards her with his crutches. He stops beside her, grabbing a kitchen towel to dry off the dishes.
“Kylian!” She scolds, looking down at his leg. “You shouldn’t be standing right now.”
“Let me just help you with this,” he shrugs, his arm grazing hers in the process. “I won’t do it again.”
She fights the smile that wants to break through her lips. It was a kind gesture and it made her feel better. She washes the dishes in comfortable silence, Kylian drying each of them as she hands them over.
As she washes the last pot, she faces Kylian as she hands it to him and he’s already staring back at her. His eyes are glued onto her nose and lips; she turns away, her cheeks burning.
He wants her attention back on him, just another moment to savor the feeling of whatever was brewing in his chest. He grimaces, “Your plant is dying.”
“Which one?” she chuckles, flashing her smile towards Kylian and he loses his balance, immediately clutching onto his crutch. She grabs a hold of bicep, her hand is still wet but neither of them care. Her other soapy hand grabs a fistful of his hoodie, “Are you okay?”
He nods, his ears burning with embarrassment. Never did he think someone’s smile would have him losing balance. “Yeah. And erm—the plant on the table.”
She frowns, “Ah, that one is my niece’s. Her dad, my brother-in-law, got her a plant last Valentine’s and she went on vacation, so it dried while she was gone. She was very upset about it and I promised her I’d revive it, but it might be a goner. I’m planning on just getting her a new one. I hate seeing her sad eyes.”
He smiles to himself, thinking about his own nephew and niece. He needed to call them whenever he got the chance. “You don’t think she’d notice?”
Aurie shakes her head, “Well she’s four, so I hope not. I’m just going to repot the new one because if that pot with pink hearts goes missing, that will certainly cause a stir.”
She leans over Kylian to put away the dried dishes that he had already dried on the dishrack. The scent of her hair engulfs Kylian’s nose and he gulps it down. He steps backwards to give her a little more space, “I think you can do it. Revive the plant.”
She walks in front of him to place the pots in the bottom cabinet, “I don’t know, I’ve been trying for a week. At this point, it’s up to the plant.”
He grins, his lips mocking hers, “It’s up to the plant…”
------
Muffled groans wake her up in the middle of the night. She had left her bedroom door ajar in case something happened to Kylian while he slept downstairs.
The groans only grow louder and she sighs, knowing that Kylian was probably in a grave amount of pain by now. His pain medications had to have worn off some hours ago, given that it was two in the morning. She grabs the box of his medicine and makes her way downstairs. The lamp by the couch was turned on, and it could have only been turned on if Kylian had walked to it—but he shouldn’t be walking at all.
She picks up her pace, rushing down the stairs, and once she comes into view with the bed, she almost shrieks in terror at the sight. Kylian had his head buried in his arms as he laid on his stomach, a girl near his legs massaging both of his calves.
“Who are you?!”
Kylian’s head shoots up from the couch and the girl freezes with her hands on his calves. The stark discoloration of Kylian’s calf just continued to angrily scream back at Aurie.
“What the hell is going on?”
Kylian can only gape in shock as he looks at Aurie. Her shirt had risen up while she slept and the joggers that she had worn earlier were stripped into a tiny pair of shorts that his sudden ability to think was lost, too entranced by the sudden view of her legs.
The weight of the bed shifting causes Kylian to snap back into reality as the girl stands up, “I’m sorry—”
“Who even are you?” Aurie stands about a meter in front of them, her eyes glued to the girl.
“I was just giving him a massage, he was in pain—”
“A massage?” She yells, her fists gripping onto her shorts trying to hold in the anger that rose through her. “Massaging a not even two-day-old strain? Are you trying to ruin his career?”
“What?” She gasps, looking back at Kylian and then Aurie, “No!”
“Then what did you think you were doing?”
Her mouth falls open and then closed, Aurie grows impatient with her lack of response.
“Get out of my house.”
Kylian shifts his weight onto his elbows, “Aurie, wait, she was just trying to help.”
Aurie takes a deep breath, and then pinches herself to make sure her sleep wasn’t deceiving her. As if that girl hadn’t just impeded Kylian’s healing process by days. Another pinch to her thigh to hope that she was hallucinating, that Kylian hadn’t actually invited an entire stranger to her home.
Kylian watches Aurie as she tries to calm down, and heat creeps onto his back as he realizes his own mistake. It slowly dawns on him, “Lucette didn’t know.”
Lucette turns, her brown hair swinging towards him, “We didn’t know.”
Kylian gulps, “We thought it was okay—I was in a lot of pain and it wasn’t going away. It felt like a knot…like it just needed to be kneaded out.”
She runs her hand down her face while her thumbs press into her eyes. She was baffled at their carelessness. Especially at Kylian, he should’ve known better.
Not just with his calf, but also for disregarding the basic communication of bringing someone over while she slept upstairs. He had never asked for permission nor even mentioned it as a heads up. It was one thing if it was in the afternoon to be met with a surprise visitor, but at two in the morning?
She was absolutely livid.
Lucette swallows, grabbing her jacket, “I think I’m just going to go.”
“Please do,” Aurie responds, too upset to be nice and beyond the time to be professional.
Kylian’s eyes grow wide, “Aurie.” Lucette walks towards him, bending down to kiss him and Aurie turns away.
Of course he brought his girlfriend to her place and she wanted to be the savior. The story could write itself. Aurie tries to calm down her breathing.
Lucette beelines towards the front door and Aurie doesn’t shy away from eyeing her down. Kylian was going to get mouthful and she was going to have to tell Martin and Dr. Minic in the morning.
She locks the door after Lucette leaves and lets out a slow exhale while closing her eyes.
“You didn’t have to be so rude to her,” Kylian grits, rolling around to lay on his back. “It’s two in the morning and you really kicked her out? C’mon now.”
She stares at him in silence, still debating what she should say first.
“I needed help and you were sleeping.”
She shakes her head, “So you called someone with no kind of medical background?”
His eyebrows crease, “We had read a bunch of articles on Google.”
“Oh my god, Kylian. You can’t be this stupid. You can’t have made it this far and be this stupid. You have a Grade 2 muscle strain! If it was a Grade 1, yeah, sure you can massage it, but are you kidding? A Grade 2?” Her voice is still hoarse from the night as she places her hands on her hips.
Kylian leans forward, wincing at his leg, “Don’t call me stupid. You were nowhere to be found and I was in a lot of pain.”
“My door was wide open, you idiot! I would have heard you if you were calling out to me.”
“You didn’t hear the front door open,” he taunts.
“Because that was the last thing I expected to happen!” She retorts, “I woke up because I heard you grunting in what sounded like pain, so I got up to bring you your medicine.”
Kylian’s eyes grow as he looks at the box in her hand. After having spent the past hour gnawing his teeth, he didn’t realize she carried the very solution to end it.
“I can’t believe you,” she palms her forehead. “I can’t believe you brought a total stranger to this house. I’m just—”
He doesn’t like the way Aurie’s irritation had turned into utter disappointment, it felt too much like the scoldings he would get when he was in school or ruined a perfect pass. He turns away, his eyes instead focusing on her legs—or on anything else for that matter.
Her vision was still blurred from the grogginess of her sudden wake and the dismay of events that transpired. Her head started to pound.
“You know what, I refuse to deal with this,” she rubs her eyes. “I’m not about to sit here and make a detailed plan and timeline of your recovery while you could care less about it. Quite frankly, I’m not getting paid enough for this.”
She starts pacing towards the kitchen, searching for a glass. She fills it with water and walks where he lay. “You’re only making yourself worse and I am not a therapist for a reason. If you don’t want to do your recovery here, then fine, I don’t care. This was a favor for Martin, not you. So you know what, you can go home tomorrow. And here’s your fucking medicine.”
She rips open the bottle cap and sets a capsule beside his water.
Finished and done with the game he was playing.
“And put a damn pillow underneath your leg when you sleep,” she sneers.
Kylian watches her in complete silence. Too awestriken with what just occurred. First she was kicking Lucette out, and now she was giving him the greenlight to leave. He should’ve felt relieved, that he wouldn’t have to put up with whatever this sudden arrangement was, but he didn’t. He felt guilty again.
He knew that he had messed up and knew that he should have asked her before he let Lucette massage him, but he didn’t think much of it at the time. He especially didn’t think it would cause him further injury.
------
Kylian had woken up in a gross amount of pain the next morning. It had rendered him speechless, afraid that if he moved it would radiate through him worse. He breathed heavily, trying to calm himself down but he couldn’t. He wanted to call for Aurie but his mind was still repeating the events from the previous night. How willing was Aurie to still help him despite what she said last night and what he had done?
But there she was. He heard the creak of the wooden stairs as she came to him quickly.
“Hey,” she greets. His eyes are screwed shut and his arms are splayed on top of his face. She touches his arm gingerly and he wants to melt at the sound of her voice and touch, wanting to just inch towards her in hopes that the pain drowns away. It seemed to work because it had subsided by a fraction, but it was enough to have him slowly opening his eyes. “Sit up to take your medicine.”
“I don’t want to move,” he stresses.
Her lips tug into a frown, and he stares at the feature, wanting to somehow wipe away the worry. She stands before he can continue thinking of ways to erase her frown, “I’ll help you.”
Kylian hadn’t noticed that he was profusely sweating through his clothes until she tugged at his waist, his shirt feeling grossly stuck to his body. He cringes as he wills himself up. She adjusts a pillow behind him, her eyes already fixed onto his calf.
He swallows the pill and gulps the rest of the water with haste. Her hands are busy unwrapping the compression bandage he wore. His leg had swelled more, and the bandage being tight was what caused him the pain because as soon as she loosened it, he let out a groan of satisfaction.
She takes a moment to examine his leg. Lucette’s massage had done an extensive amount of damage through the night and Aurie’s job to fix it just slowly got delayed. His swelling and purple bruises only seemed to grow, already putting him two more days behind schedule. Martin certainly wasn’t going to be happy.
“Did she massage your thigh by any chance?” Aurie asks, watching Kylian’s chest heave up and down, sweat dripping down his temples.
Kylian nods, wiping the sweat away from his face, “Yeah.”
Aurie stares back at his thigh, trying to peek at his hamstrings to see if there's any discoloration, but she knows she doesn’t have to look to know her answer.
His month-long stay would now have to be a month and a half. Something that neither her or Martin had discussed. She promised her job that she would be back within a month and that Kylian would be all Martin’s responsibility afterward.
But that was no longer her problem, he was going home today anyway.
She lets out an unnoticeable sigh, grabbing the black compression wrap and starts wrapping his leg back up, making sure it isn’t too tight for him.
“Thank you,” he exhausts, his eyes fluttering closed.
Her shoulders only fell back at the sight of him: sweaty and exhausted, his eyebrows creased and his lips parted open. His hands are clenching onto the shorts he wore, trying to distract himself until the meds kicked in. Even if she wanted him to be gone already, to get rid of the fever dream she and him had both experienced last night, she would have to help him in the shower first.
That was going to take a while.
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Note: I wasn’t sure to add the people from my other main taglist that I had for my other fics since this is a whole series so uh yeah haha. Just let me know! AHH first chapter, I think I was more excited to finally just get this out here so I could stop looking back at the chapter and trying to add anymore edits--especially after the disappointing loss to Bayern. Anyway, how are we feeling? Any first chapter thoughts? I’ll most likely stay between 6k-10k words for each chapter.
Taglist: @kylianswifey @darlingmbappe
#kylian mbappe#kylian mbappe x reader#kylian mbappe x you#kylian mbappe fanfiction#kylian mbappe fanfic#kylian mbappe x oc#kylian mbappe drabble#kylian x reader#mbappe x reader#em.writes#comme les fleurs
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Snippets Wednesday Part 1: Blackmail au
Previously, on the "Jak and Mar are separate people for one time loop" au:
Krew handed Jak over to Wastelanders in exchange for an exorbitant price. It is revealed that he'd been blackmailing Damas, saying he had an abandoned Heir of Mar and would give him to Praxis if Damas didn't pay up. Jak learns that when Praxis took over, Damas had a pregnant lover who had been believed lost...until a DNA test revealed that Jak was the child she had successfully hidden (with an interloper Samos from a collapsed timeline, unfortunately). Jak is struggling to cope with this.
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Apparently people didn't travel the desert continent at night unless they had a death wish. The gang of Wastelanders that had snatched Jak and Daxter from Haven were all bedded down in the outer courtyard of the temple, taking advantage of the balmy sea air. Jak had been allowed to take a bedroll right back into the alcove behind the statue again. It made him feel safer, knowing he couldn't be dragged out.
Damas stopped at the mouth of the cloister and crouched slightly. He jolted back for a second, then blinked.
"Ah." He leaned back on his heels. "Eyeshine. Just like Mar, then."
"Not so funny when you're the one seeing glowing eyes in the dark, is it?" Sig snorted, thumping Damas between the shoulders as he passed.
"I thought you were exaggerating!" Damas grumbled.
“Nope! Gremlin toddler, staring at me from the end of the bed in the middle of the night.” Sig called back. They could joke about this now. They knew he was okay now.
“Well you shouldn’t have given him milk before bed,” Damas retorted, “That’s why he was up in the first place!”
He turned back to the alcove and shoved a small, wrapped package in.
"I...know what it is to go hungry," he said apologetically, "All Wastelanders do. No one will judge you for keeping rations to hand between meals. No one will take them from you."
He stood again and brushed off his tunic. "To- tomorrow, we're going back to my city. We'll...we'll find somewhere for you to sleep. Then we'll decide what to do about Mar. If you need-"
He cut himself off, looking unsure.
"Er...Sig and I will be over. Over there."
Silence blanketed the chamber for a moment, then on Jak’s chest, Daxter propped himself up on his elbows.
"Well, he seems nice," he teased. "He's no Osmo, but a guy could do worse for their old man."
"Shut up, Dax."
"So...Sig, though. Do you think they're like, platonic? Or...y'know...smmmmoooching right now?"
"We agreed that you would never speak that word in my presence."
"Whaaat? Smooching?"
"Shut up shut up! I will throw you out of this alcove, Daxter."
"Fine fine. So do you think you'll have two dads or is Sig more of an uncle-"
"Omigods stop talking."
Jak shoved Daxter off his chest.
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Jak had gotten very good at feigning sleep. It kept the guards from noticing you in prison, and it was a good way to eavesdrop on Kor and Samos. And when Mar was curled up under his arm, it occasionally softened even people like Torn enough for them to avoid "waking" them.
Jak lay in the alcove and measured his breaths to mimic the easy cadence of slumber. He strained his ears, listening as closely as he could to Sig and Damas whispering nearby.
"You said the baby died during the coup. Heck, Damas, we've been doing a memorial for years! If Jak is Baby Heart, how did he survive?”
Sig sounded shaken. Almost choked up.
There was a soft metallic sound as Damas must have shifted his weight.
"He has my eyes, my complexion, but those cheekbones, and his build...I swear he's the spitting image of Damaris when we were kids. Damaris was smart, she- she must’ve hidden him."
"All this time..."
"I know."
There was a wet, labored breath, another clearing of the throat.
"He's within his rights to hate me. Sig, I- I could have saved him! He was there! My- my own baby was still there, and I never knew-!"
A quieter sound, cloth and skin and armor. Comforting whispers just on the edge of Jak's hearing.
"Hey, hey. Don't do this, Daym. You know it ain't your fault. Praxis told you he killed Damaris, right? You had no reason to think he was bluffing, not after what happened to the rest of your unit!"
Jak didn't want to hear any more. He rolled over and pressed his hands over his ears.
At some point he must have fallen asleep, because eventually he became aware of the smell of coffee brewing. Crawling on his elbows to the mouth of the alcove, Jak squinted out with bleary eyes and found Damas pouring a mug with a blank, foggy stare. Survival instinct took over, and Jak eased into a stealthy crouch, preparing to snatch the cup.
"If you want some, you could just ask, you know," Damas yawned. He didn't even turn around.
"Haven's full of soft nobles. In the Wastes, you don't try to steal a man's coffee if you want to keep all your fingers."
“Hm.” Jak didn’t bother answering.
Speech was overrated, especially before coffee.
Despite his warnings about not stealing Wastelander coffee, it only took a few seconds of silent staring to wear Damas down. He sighed, and handed the cup to Jak.
"Well this bodes ill for matters of rule enforcement," Damas muttered.
But what was he supposed to do? For fifteen years, three months, and twelve days, he'd mourned Damaris and "Baby Heart", the child he'd never even gotten to hold. Fifteen years he'd tortured himself imagining what Baby Heart would have been like. A mischievous daughter climbing everything she wasn't supposed to. A curious son always tinkering. A child neither son nor daughter, trailing along behind him full of questions. Faced with the real, live, Baby Heart -- Jak -- how could he deny him something as small as a cup of coffee? It was, by far, the least of what the boy was owed.
"So. Jak." Damas dug around in his pack, hoping he might’ve stowed a second cup. He knew better than to filch Sig’s.
"Where did that name come from?"
Damaris had always been fond of flowery and frankly pretentious names. The boy was lucky to have escaped them.
Jak shrugged. "Me. I picked it. Don't know what my name was supposed to be."
Damas winced at the expectant glint in Jak’s eye.
"I don't either," he apologized. "You were...you weren't much more than a heartbeat on a scanner when I ruled Haven. The last time I saw you, you were a lumpy little bean-shaped fetus who flipped upside down every time your mother ate something you didn't like. We hadn't even picked a name yet -- although I remember talking Damaris out of "Jupiter" early on."
The boy wrinkled his nose. "Wow. No. I knew a Jupiter, back home. Guy's probably metal-meat now. He was...hang on, what was that word Daxter used- Melodramatic. Really melodramatic."
Damas smiled -- barely a twitch of the lips. "Well. Damaris was too, sometimes."
Jak settled from a crouch to sitting cross-legged at the mouth of the alcove. "So uh...who is Damaris? Or was, I guess. Who was she? I mean like, to you."
Ah.
"That's...a difficult question to answer," Damas admitted. “She was a nobleman’s daughter from the House of Rho -- descendants of the Yellow Sage. We were supposed to be betrothed, but we couldn’t stand the thought of having to be married to each other.”
He cracked a smile. “She was still one of my closest friends, though. Chaos in the form of a scrawny, racing-obsessed girl. My mother used to say the two of us shared a brain cell and only one of us could use it at a time. Harsh, but not wholly undeserved, considering the trouble we used to cause.”
“Oh. So she was your Daxter.”
Damas wasn’t entirely certain what that meant in context.
“I…suppose…?”
That was too much thinking for this early in the morning.
Jak finally came out of the alcove when he'd finished the coffee. He leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets and studied his alleged parent. After an undisturbed rest and calmer heads, he was more curious than suspicious of the man.
"Are you guys gonna go crazy again and drag me back in here if I go outside?" he asked. He wasn't even sure he was being sarcastic.
Damas shrugged and poured his own cup of coffee. "Not if we know where you're going. I don't recommend going far from the beach without a waterskin, but if you want to take the footpath down the spire, I won't stop you."
Jak nodded once or twice. "Good," he muttered.
He'd never taken well to being told where he could or couldn't go.
"Tell Dax I just went to get some air."
It was another ten minutes before the human-in-a-rivercat's-body dragged himself inch by inch down to the cookplate. He groaned like a ghoul, arms out in front of him.
Damas sighed in resignation, and handed over the coffee pot.
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#jak and mar are separate people au#fic prompts#writing prompts#jak and daxter#dadmas#king damas#jak and daxter au#blackmail au#snippet wednesday#the angst now begins to soften into fluffier things#Damas will soon learn that Jak as a teenager hates the same foods he hated in his fetal stage#now he just doesn't eat it though instead of conveying his displeasure through interpretive dance like humans do once they get feet#the computers read Daxter's dna as human and literally no one was prepared for that#damas and sig are platonic life partners but can also be read as ship#Sig is going to have to be the Rules Parent clearly because Jak just went 😶 and Damas IMMEDIATELY caved
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Bleeding Heart
Kurt Hansen/OC
Wanna hear a bad joke? A corpo walks into Dogtown and falls for the warlord—
Yea, it doesn’t end well.
Victoria feels a pang of…something when she looks over the hospital bed. Deeply unpleasant in its familiarity, even if she refuses to name it directly. It catches her by the throat and squeezes, the chrome column doing nothing to abate the pressure.
The mighty Kurt Hansen brought low, lingering on death’s door at the hands of the desperate and too stubborn to step through of his own accord.
She had learned from the coup, from the soft warmth of Yorinobu’s guts in her hands and the taste of iron still caught between her teeth. There were no gods amongst men, none of meat. Kurt was flesh, bone, and wire. Human, like the lowest scum of Night City’s gutters. Killable.
Tantalising so at times. She had stayed her own hand too often to count; restrained at first by calculation and timing and Michiko’s insistence that things are kept civil between them and the best bulwark they had against the NUSA. And then, though she was loath to speak it aloud, by the wretched thing in her chest that felt lighter at the sight of him. It tightens now, caught in the same grip that holds her throat. There’s no relief to be found in the steady beep of the monitors or the slow rise and fall of his chest. None.
“I should kill you,” She says as she steps closer, slow in her meander to his bedside, “it’d be a kindness, honestly.”
He should bark a laugh and make some smart ass comment about mistaking ruthlessness for kindness, and she’d roll her eyes, waving him away in a dismissive motion. They’re the same, just different words for mercy.
Ruthlessness is mercy for herself, kindness for others. The latter is a dwindling supply in Night City, and she’s low in stock.
But he doesn’t laugh and she doesn’t reply, instead the chair creaks as she sits and reaches for his hand, her fingers threading through his. He must be low in it too, otherwise he’d have the decency to die already. It’d make things so much easier; he flatlines, a vacuum is left, and Arasaka can push a malleable substitute into the space he stood. Easy. Downright textbook.
How it used to be done; when the Arasaka at the head wasn’t known for a gentle heart and when her own didn’t twist traitorously at the mere thought. Michiko’s lips had pulled downward when she called to update, her fine brow scrunched.
“I’m sorry,” she said, as if it was some plan of her own design that went haywire. “Will he recover?”
“If we allow it.”
“Good.” and then that smile, that gentle all-too-knowing smile. She considers Michiko her little dove, but she could be quite the snake when she wanted to. It was yet to be known if she was venomous. “Keep yourselves safe, Victoria.”
Something’s been moved across the board, a piece into position. Her maybe, for the roiling need to bare her teeth is prickling uncomfortably, itching at her gums with no one to threaten.
She sighs deeply as she leans into the chair, squeezing his fingers between hers as she lifts his hand and clasps it between her own. It’s scuffed, the dull black etched grey, dented too. His fingers a tad stiff. That will need to be seen to – later, when she’s settled. Sated with the scent of fried circuitry and the death rattle of whoever she deems appropriate.
She imagines hopes the FIA aren’t done in Dogtown. Clean-up is likely in full swing; a loitering agent or two, disposable. Or maybe it’ll be a stray; a mutt of his own pack smelling opportunity with how thick it is in the air. Its usual sweetness tinged by something rotten for her.
Later. That’ll come later.
For now, she settles as best she can on the stiff-backed chair and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “You’re lucky I’m a little bit fond of you, Hansen.”
An understatement, but he’s not awake to call her on it. She’ll take advantages of his state where she can.
#cyberpunk 2077#phantom liberty#Kurt Hansen#Victoria Crane#ship: blood money#my writing#ngl was legit considering her killing kurt#still am cos i love that drama and want her to be a crucial instrument in her own suffering#but for now he lives#and gets his very own personal attack netrunner
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wbn stuff please do not spoil yerself it’s a great pod i encourage you to listen
sorry. gonna have to be an Ame stan on this one. Let’s look at what’s happening to her. She is:
1. 20.
2. neurodivergent (the coding is pretty obvious)
3. Has just inherited one of the most important position in the setting. The fate of the world is literally on her shoulders.
4. Has just woken up from a month long coma where she regained *numerous* important memories. All at once she begins to see the danger she is in.
5. Has woken up in one of the two hearts of an enormous imperial machine (let’s be clear: the citadel is a tool of the militaristic Kehmsarazan Empire. its goals are the empires goals, that’s where they get their funding). This empire is occupying her home land.
6. This is an incredibly dangerous place for herself, and her friend Eursalon. We see this from the Cassov collection, from the artificer’s factory, from Steels undermining and delay of her attempts to leave. Eursalon also understands this.
7. Her friend Suvi does not understand this. This is not Suvi’s fault, there are so many factors that make it very difficult for her to learn the truth (one of the main icons of this militarism, steel, is literally her adoptive mother) but it is still true that Suvi seems unaware (I want to state for the record that I really like Suvi. I think she’s an excellent character played excellently).
8. Steel. Steel is very scary. She’s the sword of the citadel, the head of its armies. She has probably the most important role in the entirety of the city. She has brought her legion back, is searching for vaguely designed “traitors” and “spies”, and is using the threat and reality of police and military violence to get her way. let’s be very clear. this is a coup. Even if it’s not, how could someone in Ame’s position be anything but frightened by this?
9. A friend of grandmother Wren’s and talented diviner, Sly, has told her that it is very important she leave, and soon, and that while her best friend Suvi *must* accompany her on pain of death, Suvi will not receive permission to accompany her.
10. All of this is merely the preamble to what may be the most important few days of her life, the summit at the north pole. The meeting will determine the fate of magic, the safety of every human in the world, and whether the job Ame has been training for since she was like 8 will even continue to exist.
With all of that in mind, it seems pretty obvious what Ame is (quite reasonably) thinking.
“Here i am in incredible danger. Not only is this the worst place in the world for me to be, but i desperately need to be a different place doing different things. Oh no! Leaving is difficult, and getting out relies on my friend Suvi unlearning her indoctrination over the course of a couple hours. Fuck! Let’s bounce.”
That this is a reasonable position is not only reenforced by everything I just said, but by the fact that Eursalon completely agrees! When presented with the same information (plus a little more, since he’s people smart in a way the other two aren’t), he comes to exactly the same conclusion. Let’s bounce!
My point isn’t that Suvi is evil, or that people should be shitty to Aabria Iyengar (she’s mentioned that ppl have been. if that’s you, fuck off!). It’s just that Ame is not the villain here either. She’s making decisions that I can only imagine I would also make in her position.
Plus, why are people only shit talking Ame? When Eursalon is doing the same shit? and is in fact more responsible for violence against citadel solders (see:the end of the previous arc) (which i don’t begrudge him either, for reasons i would get into if i wasn’t so tired)? It’s just obvious sexism. (tho i also wouldnt be surprised if people were trashing Eursalon abt this and I just haven’t seen it. still, the degree to which the hate is Ame focused is telling)
Anyway, I’m talking too much and no one will read this. I’m just saying, keep in mind the pressures mounting on Ame before accusing her of quest fever.
#wbn pod#wbn spoilers#wbn#wbn: www#ame#ame no-canon-last-name-to-my-knowledge#ame nclntmk#again i really wanna stress that i love aabria iyengar and respect her work very m#uch. got cut off
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No, Russia is not overthrown by a military coup.
If there is one rule of thumb that Western people should follow, it's to not take any geopolitical news story about an enemy of the United States seriously.
Especially when it claims total collapse of said enemy is imminent, when the story is only a few hours old, when it is being relayed by major Western news networks, and ESPECIALLY if it is even tangentially related to the Ukrainian war. New methods for wartime propaganda have been tested voraciously by the United States for this conflict and ya'all are making it way too easy for them.
.
Here's a little info:
The questionably unstable leader of Wagner Group (there are multiple mercenary groups all loosely called "Wagner"), Prigozhin, led what seems to be a coup-attempt where he left the Ukranian front with a small force and militarily occupied parts of the Russian city Rostov, motivations and goals not entirely clear but there is plenty of speculation. They were quickly surrounded by Russian and Chechen forces. Super based essentially-socialist President of Belarus Papa Lukashenko talked it out with Prigozhin and convinced him to drop whatever this coup attempt was, which Prigozhin did. Russian government offered amnesty to all Wagner mercenaries who surrendered peacefully, as the rank-and-file claims Prigozhin's intentions to attempt a coup were not made clear to them. Prigozhin is a very valuable Russian military asset despite his increasingly questionable mental state, but Putin made it clear earlier today he regarded the actions as a grave betrayal.
Lots of details are still murky, and it will likely take a few days for the dust to settle.
.
As much as the United States would like you to believe Russia is a fascist empire that is simultaneously a rampaging lunatic endangering the world, as well as a completely incompetent paper tiger that is one Ukranian aid package away from total collapse, neither of these are true. This is the hundredth time Western media has made a mountain out of a molehill trying to convince Western civilians that Ukraine can, will, and should win and Russia can, will, and should lose. One second they will tell you "The ruble is rubble!", tomorrow they will grumble and give reluctant props to the Russian fortress economy. One day they will gloat and mock Russia's supposedly incompetent, ill-prepared, and corrupt military, the next they will bend over backwards to explain why Ukraine losing 5 soldiers for every 1 Russian soldier retaking a purposefully abandoned corn field in Kherson is a good thing.
These reptilian ghouls will look you in the face and tell you that Russia bombed its own oil pipeline, that Nazis in Ukraine are freedom fighters, that Russians eat babies and that the millions of civilians they evacuated and sheltered from harm's way were all forcibly detained and not literally given the choice to stay. These are the same ghouls that squawked about how Black Lives Matter was violent riots and that we should militarize the police to destroy them, that Saddam Hussein had WMDs and that we should destroy Iraq, that we should give the reins of green energy transition to oil tycoons and that we should destroy public sector funding for it. How many times must you be lied to before you learn to never trust these psychopaths?
Putin may be a massive homophobe, but outside of that he is a very decent, smart, and sensible leader of a country that has endured United State's aspirations to colonize them for over 100 years and has only resumed success in doing so since Putin first took power. Please stop uncritically believing whatever NATO spooks and war lobby puppets have to say about Putin, Russia, or anything related to Ukraine, and definitely stop cheerleading Russian collapse. If, God forbid, the USA succeeded in its aspirations to coup Putin and replace him with a Western puppet, the living standards of Russia and all its former Soviet kindred (such as Ukraine) would plummet dramatically, millions would die, wars would double, and the cruel US Empire and the World War it has been waging ever since it picked up the pieces from the Nazi Empire would extend its life another unnecessary cycle. STOP IT!
#russia#ukraine#ukraine war#russian invasion#marxism leninism#putin#russian coup#wagner#coup attempt#aleksandr lukashenko#nato#war propaganda#you are not immune to propaganda#controversy#geopolitics#politics#communism#socialism#capitalism#fascism
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Morgana, the War on Camelot and Why They Couldn't Just Negotiate Something Out
ON MORGANA
like really .. you can think of bbc morgana as a political activist that came from the elite. She's the smart, opinionated, confident and politically relevant individual. She used her priviliged voice multiple times against their kingdom's highest authority as a way to represent the marginalized that she also belongs to... only for her to get imprisoned, chained, grounded and constantly lied to. She gets mixed in with the more radical group of people, gets even bolder to the point of staging assassinations and coups. Destiny comes to a head and then she becomes isolated and radicalized straight up to the point that she became a full-on insurrectionist and usurper.
Bottomline was She wanted her home to be a better place for her and for everyone. Yet dspite her doing everything to be honest, to follow the rules, everybody pushed her away in one way or another. Plus her own internal suffering never really stopped. And in the end she just... ran out of options...she kept running out of options.
ON MORGANA BECOMING A USURPER/ INSURGENT/ CONQUEROR AFTER HER COMPLETE RADICALIZATION
If taking up arms (and government destabilization by whatever means) was the only way left, then so be it. Even if it means ridding the city of its current inhabitants. She could always repopulate it with more deserving people anyway.
Cruel but i think there was one ottoman king who said and did this when he besieged a city (prolly constantinople but meh, this was common practice).
Her one-year radicalization has taught her that the none of the citizens except for a very few deserved to be saved. In this type of thinking, as conqueror/warlord, all they need is land/territory anyway coz people will come and want to settle in regardless. It's like "new world order" "utopia" kind of thing. Cleansing the world (or kingdom) completely and building up a new one. Very.. insurrectionist-y (and honestly it is quite christian apocryphon-y... ragnarok-y? you get the gist.)
People get too hung up on "she's a crazy evil witch" that they forget what her political power struggle was initially about. Her lasting solution and the one that Morgause taught her was to create a world where she(and hopefully others) would be free, damn it all, and also damn those who defy her.
ON HER WAR FOR MAGIC.. AND THE STATE OF MAGIC IN THEIR WORLD IN GENERAL
"she didnt really help the magic folk tbh"
oh but i think in a way, she did... she gave the ones, the factions, who have always risen up in arms more hope and more fuel in their hearts. Like some may have not have joined her cause immediately but it emboldened them further because someone else who's powerful, who is an elite, who is nobility, was giving them a voice and banner to run cover AND to destroy and takeover the kingdom and the dynasty that started their oppression. She was helping that faction of the magic folk indeed.
Remember that only a few were part of the prophetic magic sect. Less even knew about the prophecy and if they did then it was a closely guarded secret.
So it should not be surprising that a majority of magicfolk wouldn't want the bigoted Arthur Pendragon as King and some unknown supposedly powerful sorcerer who never shows up would rule them all.
Hell no. and they would fight it. and they are justified to do so. (just as merlin was justified to do what he does)
ON JUSTIFICATION AND ETHICS
Like I said, rebellions and government takeovers are always tricky. Everyone is justified, everyone can resort to cruelty just to get what they want. There is manipulation and betrayal and unethical decisions on all sides.
ON THE POSSIBILITY FOR ACTUAL DIPLOMACY
But they can always negotiate and be diplomatic about it if they wanted to. if they played their cards rights bloodshed could have been averted. But that means both sides must have something to offer.
but in bbc merlin... Camelot fell short of that.
WHAT MORGANA HAD
See, Morgana knew her demands. She knew what she wanted. She knew what she was fighting for. She knew what to leverage. She had the
legitimate claim (being of Uther's direct bloodline, which was apparently already enough to challenge kingdom succession),
the justification (a new camelot that accepts Magic),
the strength (being immortal and a high priestesss),
some nobles (Agravain),
influence (her name is known far and wide),
wealth (presumably Gorlois' land holdings as well as previous territorial gains) and
a strong foreign army (Helios) backing her up.
the (imminent) support of people both magic/nonmagic who want to see the end of the regime.
Moreover Morgana (and others tbh) had been destabilizing the kingdom for years anyway. The weakness, the cracks were already there, waiting to be exploited, always being exploited. Anyone with a mind for it would have found it so so so easy to just... take it.
WHAT ARTHUR HAD (TBH NOT A LOT)
Meanwhile Arthur did not know what he had. He had nothing to bargain because he lacked the information. The only bargaining chip he could have had was just hiding from him in his own goddamn court. Arthur didn't even know about the state secrets of his own kingdom, which by the way, were very important state secrets (that magic had kept the kingdom safe all those years).
Arthur had no leverage other than him being (1)heir-apparent, (2)his skilled but limited retinue and (3)decently fortified castle (4)weakened and easily defeatable ally kingdoms. He doesn't even have a succession plan. Magic isn't accepted in his kingdom in any manner possible (plus he's too deathly afraid of it).
MERLIN'S FAILURE
Merlin/Gaius/Kilgharrah, by hiding Emrys AND THE PROPHECY, deprived Arthur the leverage that they needed diplomatically against the political institution that Morgana already was. Because of his vigilanteism, Merlin was incapacitating Arthur's diplomatic abilities as king. Merlin betrayed Arthur over and over again all because of the same bullsht bad advice that Kilgharrah and Gaius kept drilling into his head for more than half a decade.
Arthur had nothing to offer Morgana in exchange for peace in the bargaining table.
WHEN YOU DONT EVEN START PROPER NEGOTIATIONS, THEN YOU ALREADY FAIL
that's why it's a tragedy. Morgana had more cards than Arthur and nobody wanted to back down. So is it really surprising that they all had no choice but to go to war?
#bbc merlin#bbc morgana#bbc arthur#merlin critical#adventures of merlin#this is a fckd up show and its fun#i keep rehashing the same essay i know#essays#you must be tired of me#but i think ive become better with it#its my blog anyway i do what i want#look i need an outlet coz if i dont i will just keep talking to myself in my head
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Day 28: Parallels with Daenerys
If there is any character that Arya shares the most parallels with besides Jon, it is without question Daenerys Targaryen! Daenerys and Arya are in my opinion the best female characters of the series. They have so many similarities and so much in common that they would become really close friends when they meet. Let’s examine some of the many, many similarities and parallels that these two amazing ladies share!
Beauty
Dany and Arya are both very young girls but they are noted by many to be extremely beautiful/pretty.
“That was before Prince Doran had summoned him to the Water Gardens. And now the most beautiful woman in the world was waiting in Meereen, and he meant to do his duty and claim her for his bride. She will not refuse me. She will honor the agreement. Daenerys Targaryen would need Dorne to win the Seven Kingdoms, and that meant that she would need him. It does not mean that she will love me, though. She may not even like me.” ADWD Quentyn I
Dany is explicitly called the most beautiful woman in the world in this chapter and Quentyn has not even met her yet. That means people have talked and called her the most beautiful woman in the world.
"I'm sorry, my lady." Arya suddenly felt bad for her, and ashamed. "I'm sorry I tore the acorn dress too. It was pretty."
"Yes, child. And so are you. Be brave." ASOS Arya IV
Lady Smallwood, a kind and caring woman, tells Arya that she is pretty. It’s pretty special considering Sansa always called Arya ugly and Catelyn said Arya could only be pretty if she acted more like Sansa. Arya is noted though to be pretty by others. She has the same wild beauty that her Aunt Lyanna had. When Arya gets older, her wild beauty will probably make even Sansa jealous.
Intelligence and Bravery:
Dany and Arya, despite their young ages, are both two of the most intelligent and bravest characters in the series. Arya shows this at Harrenhal. First she organizes a coup for the Northern prisoners to escape by tricking Jaqen H’gar into helping her (tricking a Faceless Man requires both cunning and bravery). And afterwards, she escapes Harrenhal with her friends with their own planning. Arya manages to take out the guard by tricking him into thinking that Lord Bolton is having her give silver to the guards, and then when his guard is down she slashes his throat. That required Arya to be both brave and smart.
Dany shows her intelligence and bravery when taking the cities of Slaver’s Bay. She manages to trick the Good Masters of Astapor into giving her the Unsullied by offering to give them one of her dragons. It works… but she never intended to let cruel men keep one of her children for a slave. She has the Unsullied kill the slave masters and free all the slaves and has Drogon roast the asshole Kraznys. At Yunkai she comes up with the strategy to take the city and she succeeds. The same thing happens at Mereen. Dany took great risks (and taking the cities wouldn’t get her closer to Westeros) but through her bravery and her intelligence, she prevailed.
Kindness and Empathy:
Dany and Arya are also both two of the kindest and most compassionate characters in the series. Despite both being highborn girls, Dany and Arya do not see the smallfolk as lesser beings or tools. They see them as friends and family.
“Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father's table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children. Fat Tom used to call her "Arya Underfoot," because he said that was where she always was. She'd liked that a lot better than "Arya Horseface."” AGOT Arya II
Arya earned her nickname ”Arya Underfoot” because she loved playing with the smallfolk and spending time with them. She never treated them with disdain like Sansa. Arya preferred spending time with them than with her snobby sister and the cruel Cersei. Arya doesn’t believe she’s better than anyone simply because she’s highborn.
“When he was gone, Dany went to her window and looked out wistfully on the waters of the bay. The square brick towers of Pentos were black silhouettes outlined against the setting sun. Dany could hear the singing of the red priests as they lit their night fires and the shouts of ragged children playing games beyond the walls of the estate. For a moment she wished she could be out there with them, barefoot and breathless and dressed in tatters, with no past and no future and no feast to attend at Khal Drogo's manse.” AGOT Dany I
Dany is the exact same as Arya. She would prefer to be with the common people, dresses in plain clothes, barefoot, and no worries. She treats all her people as friends and tells them that they need not be afraid to speak to her about anything. When Doreah is dying, Dany holds her hand and even gives Doreah her water. Similar to when Arya refuses to leave her friend Weasel behind. Dany and Arya also both despise violence against the innocent. Arya is horrified and saddened to learn that even her brother’s men are raping women and killing peasants. Dany doesn’t think peace is worth it, if it’s built on the blood of little children. She even says ”Why do the gods make kings and queens if not to protect the ones who cannot protect themselves?” to Jorah.
Braavos:
Braavos is an important place to both Dany and Arya. For Dany, the house with the red door is the closest thing to a home Dany ever had. She constantly wishes to return to the house. For Arya, she comes here, to the House of Black and White, after losing her friends and family and is training with the Faceless Men. Braavos is something Dany and Arya can bond over if and when they finally meet.
Dragon and Direwolf:
Dany and Arya are blessed with two very magical and special creatures. Arya with her direwolf Nymeria and Dany with her dragons Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion. They both have powerful magical connections to their creatures. Arya can warg into Nymeria. Dany and her dragons can feel each other’s presence.
But they also both have lines related to the other animal and… it cannot just be a coincidence.
“Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. As the moon rose above the grasslands, Dany slipped at last into a restless sleep.” ADWD Dany X
“This time the monsters did not frighten her. They seemed almost old friends. Arya held the candle over her head. With each step she took, the shadows moved against the walls, as if they were turning to watch her pass. "Dragons," she whispered. She slid Needle out from under her cloak. The slender blade seemed very small and the dragons very big, yet somehow Arya felt better with steel in her hand.” AGOT Arya IV
Dany and Arya have so many parallels and similarities. They are like twins! When they do meet I think Dany and Arya will find in each other the sisters neither ever had.
Bonus: Oh one more parallel! Dany and Arya both have a horrible older sibling. Dany with Viserys who physically and emotionally abuses her and sells her into sexual slavery. Arya with Sansa who bullies and ridicules her. Dany and Arya have suffered both of them but eventually they both have enough and give those shitty siblings some satisfying payback. When Viserys attacks her, Dany confiscates his horse and forces him to walk at the back. When Sansa cruelly taunts Arya about her friend’s death, Arya throws an orange at Sansa’s face and ruins her dress. And yet… Dany and Arya still love their awful older brother and sister. Dany tries constantly to reach out to Viserys and mourns him after he dies and even names one of her dragons after him. Arya still tries to apologize and comfort Sansa and does wish to see her again.
#arya stark#daenerys targaryen#asoiaf#canonarya#canondany#aryastarkmonth2022#book arya stark#book daenerys#they are so precious#they will be true sisters!#parallels
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Inspired by Scion, Nissan Pike Cars and Chevy Small Cocept Cars. I decided to fantasize about my own car brand and its models.
I named my brand "E–Motors" as all cars will be electric.
Just like the companies I was inspired by, I decided to make 4 models.
EA (Electric Art) - The first model in the line. This is a small city hatchback aimed at young people.
It will also have a 4 door version on a slightly longer platform called EA+.
Vehicle characteristics:
85 HP
150 KM/H
2+2 seats
Front-wheel drive
Inspired by:
Smart ForTwo
Scion IQ
Citroen C1
EB (Electric Box) - A year after EA debut and successful sales. A family-oriented sub-compact van will be launched into production, built on a slightly elongated EA platform.
Vehicle characteristics:
85 HP
150 KM/H
4 seats
Front-wheel drive
Inspired by:
Honda E
Honda N-ONE
Nissan Cube
EC (Electric Coupe) — Two years after EB debut, coupe named EC will be introduced, which is built on EA platform and is aimed at more sporty car enthusiasts.
Vehicle characteristics:
100 HP
170 KM/H
2+2 seats
Rear-wheel drive
Inspired by:
Subaru BRZ
Audi TT
Volkswagen Beetle
ED (Electric Development) — Two years after EB debut, ED will be introduced with EC. Van built on the platform of EB, designed for the freight market.
It will also have variant of 5 door minivan with called ED+.
Vehicle characteristics:
90 HP
150 KM/H
2 seats
Rear-wheel drive
Inspired by:
Nissan S-Cargo
SeАZ 11116-010-50
Volkswagen Caddy
#seryyart#traditional art#art#artwork#drawing#cars#car drawing#cartoon car#cartoon style#арт#автомобили#рисунок#стилизаци#русский tumblr
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Elenora - "Ellie" -Fredrickson
Ellie is an Ephedian commoner, She's a shepherd from a small village that felt it's fair share of hardships under Gramorr. Ellie is a kind hearted person who does her best to help other's and her community. Most people see her as a loving big sister who won't hesitate to chew you out if you've done wrong.
~full bio and backstory under the cut ~
Name:
Elenora Fredrickson
Nicknames:
Ellie
Freddie
Gender:
female
Age:
23 (earth year)
Kingdom/Hometown:
Silvafinis, Ephedia
Role/Rank:
Commoner, shepherd
Sexuality
lesbian
Siblings/Relatives
Her grandmother
Lucas, younger brother, 17 (deceased)
A father (deceased)
Favorite Color:
Cotton candy pink
Weapon(s), if any?
Shepherds crook (she can and will beat your ass with it if need be)
low level magic (she has light peachy pink crystals)
Likes
👍other people, especially those in her village
👍Animals, especially her sheep and her Amaru, Amelie
👍Magic
👍stories and legends for other realms
Dislikes
👎People who cause problems for others
👎Crystal monsters
👎The classic pet owner “What’s in your mouth!” struggle. It’s a daily one for her
👎minimalism/ rooms without a naturally amount of clutter
Strengths
👍physically strong
👍observant
👍social skills, she can make friends with anyone
👍Animal handling and care
👍open minded
Weaknesses
👎kind to a fault, she’ll help people even if they don’t deserve it
👎self preservation, she will run into a dangerous situation to help someone else regardless of the risk she’s putting herself in.
👎Magic. Although she is one of the better mages in her village that isn’t saying much as most people in town only use the most basic of magic. Compared to the magic we’ve seen from the princesses, she’s really weak.
👎book smarts, especially spelling
👎impulsive
Fears
Crystal monsters
While Gramorr held power over the realm, crystal monsters were everywhere enforcing his will. These monsters regularly caused destruction in Ellie’s village and were a terrifying threat while she was growing up. She recently lost her younger brother to an attack from one of these crystal monsters and it’s made her hatred and fear of them that much stronger.
Dead things
beyond being generally creepy, she’s scared her herd of opportunistic omnivore sheep will try to eat anything they find and get sick. Her flock is kind of her life and anything happening to them is scary af to her
3. Gramorr returning or a new threat taking his place
she lived almost her whole life in a realm occupied by Gramorr, she’s seen first hand how it got worse over time and the damage he and his forces caused. Her little village suffered great losses because of what was happening in the world around it, and she can only imagine what was happening in larger towns and cities of influence. She wants to believe what she's heard of Gramorr’s defeat, and that the royal families and resistance will be able to stop any remaining forces from taking power again, but after living her whole life with him in control it’s easier said than done. Especially with rumors going around that the princess of Ephedia has been sent off planet again.
Hobbies
Talking. She’s a constant chatterbox
Storytelling and hearing others stories.
Organizing community events
Riding her amaru, Amelie in her Pegasus form
Magic research
Back Story
Ellie is a common girl from Ephedia. She lives in the small village of Silvafinis and works as a shepherd. She’s a sweet, kind hearted young person who does her best to help people around her. Growing up in the realm of Ephedia she saw first hand the destruction and misery brought on by Gramorr during his reign of terror. Even being in a small village far from most things, they were never safe from the abuse of his forces, or the danger of the violent crystal monsters he created. The village was routinely threatened, and more than once irreparably damaged by this. When Gramorr first took over Ephedia the people of the realm attempted a coup to try to stop him, hoping to avoid what they knew would come should he stay in power. Ellie’s father and a number of other people from the town were a part of this. Unfortunately this revolution was a complete failure, most of the people involved in it died in the battle, Ellie’s father included.
After her fathers death she was left with just her grandmother and younger brother in her direct family, but being from such a small village most of the other people in town helped to care for her and felt just as much like family. Still she had to grow up fast, in doing so she kind of became a big sister figure to most of the town. Almost to combat the harshness of the world she lives in, Ellie does her best to be kind and helpful. She doesn’t see a point in making things harder than they already are for others. She comes down hard on younger kids in the village when they’re misbehaving or causing problems for that reason. She spent most of her life in this role, taking care of her family's sheep and younger brother. She more or less got used to the constant threat and destruction caused by Gramorr’s reign, as it was just how life always was.
But in recent months rumors began to spread that the princesses of Ephedia, who’d been sent off planet for her safety so long ago, had been found and was fighting for her kingdom and planet. that Princess Izira of Xeris had escaped one of Gramorr’s prisons and formed a resistance force to fight him, that hope was returning to Ephedia again. In direct conflict of that hope, it seemed like attacks from Gramorr’s crystal beasts were becoming more frequent than ever before. The village’s losses begane to pile up as homes, businesses, and farmlands were destroyed. Ellie’s younger brother died trying to protect the village during one of these attacks. This was a devastating loss for her, she blames herself for not being able to protect him, and has been in deep mourning ever since. She continues to keep up her cheery disposition around others though, not wanting her pain to bring down others.
When Gramorr was defeated, news spread fast across Ephedia, including to the little village of Silvafinis. Ellie, like most of Ephedia’s people, hopes this will mean an era of peace and recovery from all they’ve lost, but she can’t help but continue to worry that some new dark force may rise up to take Gramorr’s place.
#lolirock ocs#lolirock oc#lolirock#oc#my oc#ocs#ellie may or may not be my favorite of my lolirock ocs
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smart advert. Spain, 2000.
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When you meet Hanako after the parade, she's quite hostile and surprised (perhaps a little afraid), but at that point she is still one of the only people who knows (perhaps besides Hellman) that Saburo Arasaka had an engram made and it could be retrieved at any time. She hasn't tried to do this yet– why? Loyalty or love for Yorinobu? Her brother who she has argued for in the past, and has once again (unsuccessfully) tried to argue to her father for a chance to speak to him before that deadly confrontation?
I'm personally of the opinion that she is frightened, but is playing up her fear (I think this is a smart thing, to be clear. Never lay all your cards on the table.) But I wonder if Goro's success really does shake her, and make her wonder if Yorinobu is willing to risk her and anything else in his rage and grief. If that's the turning point where she decides she does need to do something, or if she has been quietly setting things into place and is forced to act. Because if he'll turn on her, then what else might he do?
She's a very interesting character to me because she's clearly not stupid– but she has been isolated for most of her life and clearly where she's lacking is connection or resources, especially in Night City. She relies on Takemura for being a figurehead for the loyal soldiers, but makes that offhand comment (paraphrased) "loyal to me or my money", which tells me she knows she doesn't have the charisma or trust to resist Yorinobu openly– not when everyone else seems content to follow him in his coup.
Does she want to be left alone, or does she want more power? Is her isolation her choice, or to keep her "pure" as Arasaka's heart? In some respects I think she is trapped in the conservative expectations her father placed on her (is Yorinobu really heir apparent for Saburo? or is he just the only surviving son? Would Hanako even want that responsibility? Was she ever asked or prepared for that eventuality?) but what does she want? Besides what everyone wants– a family that isn't fucked beyond mortal repair. Everything you know about her is speculation. Everything she tells you is in service of what she wants you to do. What does Hanako want?
#slowly identifying more of the mental blocks that are stopping me from writing this chapter#sketching out what her plans are and how she thinks of V#wondering how close her relationship with Oda is and how much she trusts him#I strongly believe she has her own agenda which she dutifully keeps hidden from the hot headed men in her family#but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist#ah you know what. i need to do some reading on historical zaibatsu I think#get a sense for the family structures and responsibilities. ok. ty tag rubber ducky#cyberpunk meta
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Everything Right/Wrong with Ninjago “Legacy of the Green Ninja” E6: Wrong Place, Wrong Time
This entire episode is just you watching my sanity dissolve in 4K. Disclaimers: Show owned by LEGO. This is not a professional review/critique - it’s mainly intended for comedy.
Reblog, like, and/or comment for more!
- This episode f*cking exists ❌
- Intro ✅
- Why is Nya carrying a whole-a*s watermelon into the training room? ❌
- “If I had focused more when I was little I would’ve seen that coming.” Buddy chill, you’re like 11 now ❌
- “We cannot change the past, but we can improve for the future.” Get it? Cuz it’s about time? And this is a time travel episode? GET IT???? ❌
- Wasn’t the City of Ouroboros destroyed? ❌
- “We’ll head straight for them.” Golly, this episode sure is moving fast! Surely this means we’ll have more time to flesh out and explain later events that happen, right?….. r-right…? ❌
- Wait, why did Nya come to the fight without her suit? I know she can fight without it but it’d still give them better chances ❌
- Garmadon reacts way too casually to seeing his son double in height in just a few days ❌
- “If only [the ninja] never existed!” If Garmadon was really smart, he’d go back to before they were born and kick Ray in the n- ❌
- “Now, to finish the ninja once and for all, so that my son never becomes the Green Ninja!” Or so that he never lives past age 8 but go off, king ❌
- “Garmadon’s gone back in time to make it so Lloyd never turns into the Green Ninja!” Well that was a quick conclusion based off of limited evidence… ❌
- “Remind me to pack a helmet next time we time travel…” No one reminds him. ❌
- “But we can’t let the old Kai or Nya see that we talked to [Wu],” The ninja get that Kai and Nya can’t see them, which means in order for them to not come to same conclusion for Wu, they have to all consider him some separate, omnipotent being instead of an actual person. Realistically, this wouldn’t be Wu’s fault and would be the result of the ninja just being idiots, but I’m gonna blame Wu anyway ❌
- “I believe a big uh-oh is in order.” Little late for that, Snowflake ❌
- Wu sympathizer I am not, but even I have to admit that Wu is going through it this episode. My guy has NO idea what’s happening and I don’t blame him ❌
- “I’m wise…” Let’s agree to disagree ❌
- Why do Jay and Zane’s poses in the photo remain the exact same even when Lloyd (who they have their arms around) fades completely out? Also, wouldn’t Kai not be in the pic? In this reality he never joined them, right? ❌
- Wait, if, back in the pilots, Garmadon baited Kai into grabbing the Sword of Fire, which ultimately led to Wu (and the golden weapons) being taken to the Underworld, which led to him escaping it, and now in the reality he’s trying to create, Kai wouldn’t join the team… does that mean he never escapes the Underworld? Has he thought this plan through? ❌
- “You have to convince Kai to go with you.” “Why?” Jay either forgets why they’re here, or just hates Kai. ❌
- I know the Skulkin are morons but how do none of them recognize Garm’s helmet? ❌
- Past Kai reacts way too casually to being sh*t talked by his own reflection ❌
- Also, Infinity Train’s “Chrome Car” episode looks different here (pls someone get this reference)
- Cool fight scene and all, but it directly implies that Jay, Cole and Zane’s fighting abilities haven’t improved at ALL in all this time ❌
- The only good thing in this entire episode is getting to see Kai deck his pilot-self in the face. Instant relief let me tell ya ✅
- In the pilots it takes about a week to get to this point. The ninja have been here for a week. The skulkin haven’t returned home in a WEEK. ❌
- “I don’t understand… I have 4 arms…” WHY IS THAT ALWAYS THE PART PEOPLE FIXATE ON?!?!?! ❌
- “Great😦 Scott😥” GREAT SCOTT?!?!? With each second of this episode I can feel my brain deteriorate more and more! ❌
- “Why are we still here?” Where tf are you planning to go?!?!? YOU HAVE NO PLAN TO GET BACK TO THE FUTURE!!! ❌
- “I don’t stand a chance against Garmadon’s 4 arms!” Past Kai has been a ninja for a couple weeks. Garmadon has been training to fight for actual CENTURIES. Yet, our biggest f*cking concern right now IS HIS GODD*MN ARMS?!?!?!?!? ❌
- “2 Kais?” “Yeah!” WHY IS PAST KAI ACTING SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS???? ❌
- “It could be possible to erase the events that have transpired so far by destroying the Mega Weapon that brought us here in the first place.” WHAT. ❌
- the Garmadons are doing this handshake for nearly HALF. A f*cking. Minute. I timed it ❌
- “No time to find out how you got [the golden weapons]!” WHAT? WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?!?! ❌
- “Return to the future?” I’m not dealing with another godd*mn voice mix-up after this sh*t ❌
- “My father has a mega weapon???” *very, very long sigh* If the mega weapon doesn’t exist, Why. Is. Lloyd. Not. 8. ❌
- I have no idea how Lloyd makes a dragon out of this watermelon slice but I also don’t have the energy to come up with a joke for it ❌
- “I think some things are best left in the past. Come on, let’s just prepare for the future!” “I don’t get it.” Me either, Green Bean… me either ❌
- Foreshadowing. Because of course, this is going to be the one episode that is brought up again in the future ❌
- Let’s be honest here: this episode was just an excuse to get rid of the mega weapon because it was too OP, and now that we’re getting into the actual plot of the season, the writers had no clue what to do with it ❌
Sentence: I’m gonna go lay down
#ninjago#lego ninjago#ninjago lloyd#ninjago jay#ninjago kai#ninjago nya#ninjago cole#ninjago zane#ninjago sins/wins
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I was busy until now, but the preview for Batman vs Robin #3 is out:
Again, I'm a bit annoyed that this story acts like Damian knows all about Batman's current resources considering how much Bruce had to adapt in recent years because he lost Wayne Manor and moved to the city, most of his family fortune is gone too and the city got taken over several times since Damian left (Joker War, Fear State, Failsafe...they really need to stop doing this arc). Damian was only back with Bruce very briefly before leaving once more, he should be one of the batfamily members with the least amount of knowledge about Batman's current resources and contingencies. Hell, in the main Batman run Bruce is fighting Failsafe, a contigency plan Batman made that not even he was aware of.
Also, I get that this is about the robins fighting Bruce, but not using Cass seems like a tactically unwise decision by Nezha or Damian.
Okay, so Bruce has very little resources (at least if Waid doesn't also reveal that Bruce had lied to Alfred knowing he was fake all along and pulls things out of his ass again) and the robins get a bunch of fairly powerful to really powerful magic items to aid them in their fight against Batman.
But we know how this is going to go. Bruce is not going to die to them, the story needs to get Bruce to Damian and Nezha for the climax of the story. So even with these powerful weapons these fights with Bruce might only end up showing us how resourceful and skilled Batman is because not even a lack of resources on his side and abundance on the side of his enemies can make his protégés win against him.
I'm too lazy to write down what these items can do in my own words so I'm going to copy the wiki descriptions:
The Cloak of Cagliostro allows the wearer to teleport, and to become intangible and invisible.
The trident can be used for base offensive purpose, but can also be used for a variety of mystical effects, such as cleaving a spatial aperture in the middle of the ocean. The trident is capable of controlling any body of water, creating water elementals, speed ships and other water vehicles with water, create fogs and storms of high intensity, summon waves of water to propel him at great speeds, and create earthquakes by increasing water pressure. It can manipulate and conjure water, as well as disperse energy in the form of electrical bolts and forcefields.
The mystical power of the coup-stick works in tandem with the power of the Bison Cult talisman. Through these tools, Black Bison can animate material objects and in doing so, command these objects to do his bidding. This power cannot affect living biological material, but can affect non-living organic tissue. Black Bison once used the coup-stick to re-animate the stuffed remains of a white stallion (as well as other animals). Black Bison can also use the coup-stick to control the weather, such as summoning a strong wind to deflect attackers.
The Sword of Sin can be ignited with the mind of the wielder, if the person is powerful enough. The sword has the ability to conjure in the mind its victims all of the sins for which they are guilty or have not atoned for. For this reason, it is Azrael's preferred blade to use. Like its sister sword, the Sword of Salvation, it is capable of cleaving right through a target without leaving a mark. Used on a target at the same time as the Sword of Salvation, it can bring up both the sins and guilt and the reasons behind them in the mind of the target and the wielder. It is often surrounded in an aura of flaming energy.
Wouldn't be suprised if Waid uses the sword to give Bruce a guilt-trip about all the robins and how he affected their lives.
Nah, he'll be fine. He's the freaking Batman which already limits the ways this story can turn out for him severely.
I'm nitpicking, but saying "because he's smart" instead of "because that's what I would do" would have been less arrogant sounding and more flattering to Damian. I'm kinda tired of Batman setting the standard everything else gets compared to. But as twenty something Bruce said at the end of Batman: The Knight, he's the best at everything now😒
Anyway, does anyone know what situation Bruce is referring to with Riddler's Labyrinth? Because I don't and there is no editor's note (in a story that already put an editor's note in the second issue that explained something that happened at the end of the first issue🤨). I have a feeling this never happened and Bruce is testing Alfred. I bet Nezha or Alfred will reveal that he's only been Nezha's puppet at some point and Bruce will tell him that he suspected that all along and that he tricked him by referring to an situation the real Alfred would know they were never in.
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Secret Santa ‘22 (Pt 3)
Happy holidays, @rebeccapearson! Here is your third and final gift fic. I hope you like it! 💕
College Girl Christie
Pairing: Joe Toye x Female OC
Word count: 11,939
Tone: strangers to friends to lovers, idiots in love, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, city girl/small town boy trope; if you squint, it could be a Hallmark movie
Warnings: mentions of war trauma, PTS(D), and grief
Prompt: “It’s hard to get used to…” “What is?” “Being someone that someone cares for.”
Summary: It’s the Summer of 1945 and Winona Christie is on her way to bigger and better things at Boston College. She’s a few days into her drive when she gets stranded in a small Pennsylvania town in the dead space between Scranton and Wilkes-Barre. A friendly local takes an interest in her woes, and despite her best attempts to frighten him off, he sticks around, and before long, the shell around her bitter heart begins to crack.
OR
The one where Joe Toye knows what it's like to have a string of bad luck, one shitty thing after another.
Read it here on AO3!
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"Oh, fucking finally."
Winona Christie slumps against the side of her 1934 Ford Coupe, letting her head fall back on the roof of the old car. She's spent the last two days driving through Pennsylvania and she's sick of it. It's mid-August, for fuck's sake, she should be swimming in the community center pool back home, not roasting in a metal box without air conditioning, keeping the windows down in a last-ditch attempt to keep cool. The landscape is made up (for the most part) of fields that go on for miles, boasting various crops (predominantly corn) in the last stages of maturation or the early days of harvest. She has passed more tractors today than she has cars and seen more cows than people. Her gas tank has run low, it's almost nightfall, and her eyes are smarting from hours and hours of staring down the most uninteresting road she's ever had to drive. If it's possible to have a least favorite highway, Route 81 would be it. Now she's finally made it to a tiny gas station with an attached store the size of a suburban garage and two pumps, only one of which is in working order. There are a few teenagers smoking cigarettes around the back of the store, but otherwise, there's no one around. Nona doesn't pay the kids any mind and they, in turn, ignore her.
Nona is tired, Nona is sore, and the greater Pennsylvania commonwealth is quickly sinking to the bottom of Nona's travel list.
"Long drive?"
Scratch that. Looks like there she's going to be bothered after all.
"What? No," she says as drily as she can muster, refusing to open her eyes. "Don't you think I've had the time of my life staring at stupid fucking cornfields all day? Fucking hell."
She hopes her obvious disinterest will send the stranger on his way, but he just chuckles and stays right where he is.
"Yeah, that's Pennsylvania for you." He shuffles a step, and Nona guesses he's looking at the gas meter. "Shit, you're still going. Guess you really were driving a while."
"And I guess you don't know how to take a hint."
"A hint?"
She cracks open one eye, letting her head loll to the left, and the tart response of kindly fuck off, would you? sticks on her tongue. This is not some creep who thinks he's about to get lucky with some out-of-towner—in fact, there is nothing sinister about this young man whatsoever. His low, gravelly voice did not at all prepare her for what he looks like. He's got big dark eyes and wavy hair that he's combed neatly down to the tops of his ears, the kind of hair you want to run your fingers through to see if it's really that soft. He's leaning on a crutch, but even with it, he's seriously tall. Nona doesn't bat an eye at his empty pant leg—with the war on, she's seen plenty of young men come home missing a limb or two—and there's something in the way he tilts his head that makes her think he appreciates it. Still, he's managed to catch Nona off-guard by how he's looking at her like she's an old friend. For a moment, she wonders if she should recognize him, but he hasn't called her by name, so he probably doesn't know her. She stands up straighter, the gas pump clicks, and the stranger offers his hand to shake.
"I'm Joe," he tells her, "Joe Toye."
She can't help a small smirk, and he grins.
"Toye with an ‘e’, sweetheart," he rasps, and she squints at him.
"I'm not your 'sweetheart', Toye-with-an-'e'."
"Sorry." He flashes that grin again. "Just thought you were pretty enough to be."
He's trying to make her smile, but she won't give in. He studies her face for a moment, then lets go of her hand and goes to the pump, putting it away for her and even going so far as to screw on her filler cap.
"Still waiting to understand that hint, College Girl."
Nona has moved to sit halfway on her driver's seat, one leg dangling out of the open door as she cleans her sunglasses with the hem of her shirt. Now, she pauses and looks up.
"'College Girl'?"
"Yeah." Toye points at the baseball cap on her head. "You go to Boston College, right?"
Nona takes it off and smooths down her hair, suddenly and uncharacteristically self-conscious.
"Not yet," she admits. "I start my first semester next month."
"Good for you." He itches the side of his nose. "I'm not smart enough for college."
"Says who?"
"Says me."
"Well, fuck that."
They stare at each other. After a beat, Nona cracks a smile, and Toye touches his free hand—the one not steadying his crutch—to his cheek.
"I can't believe it," he gasps drily, "she actually smiles."
"Oh, shut up."
She swats at his arm and he drops his hand, chuckling at his own humor.
"How'd you end up here, College Girl?"
She considers whether or not to tell him the truth, or just a fraction of it, or nothing at all, but then he looks at her with that old soul kind of sympathy and she relents.
"I've been driving cross-country for the last two days," she tells him. "This is the fifth gas station I've passed in the last three hours and I almost ran out of gas because I couldn't stop at the other four."
"No?"
"The first one was out of order, the only person around at the second one was this old guy who was already leering at me before I pulled up to the pump, so I just kept driving, then the third one was also out of order, and the last one a couple of miles back looked like something left over after the Blitz. Seriously. And no way in hell was I stopping there around dusk, so I kept going, and now I'm here, at the only gas station in working order in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. And to top it all off, the sun's setting, which means I'm stuck here overnight." Defeated, Nona throws her hands up toward the cloudy, slowly darkening sky. "So fuck me, I guess."
Toye's eyes widen just a little. As he bends his mouth in an upside-down smile, he leans against Nona's coupe, trying to strike a nonchalant pose.
"Sure thing," he teases, glancing her up and down, "but how about I buy you dinner first-"
She hits him on the shoulder, and though he teeters a little, he snorts a laugh.
"No, but really," he says, dropping the suave act, "that's some really shitty luck that landed you here."
"Where is here, even?"
It's the question Nona's been reluctant to ask, but Toye doesn't even bat an eye.
"Hughestown, Pennsylvania." He looks down the road into town as if he can see the Atlantic Ocean from where he's standing. "Sorry, sweetheart, but you've still got a few hours to go 'til you hit New York—and that's just the state, not the city."
"Fuck." She leans against the car and groans long and hard. "Fuuuuck. Shit."
"You know, you swear a lot."
"And you-" She waves at nothing. "You don't shut up a lot."
"Uh-huh. Real quick. Sharpest comeback in the West."
She glares at him.
"Sorry. Sharpest comeback in the East."
Nona can't help a sigh. He's having too much fun with this conversation. She is not. Still, she might as well make some good use of his goodwill and try to find out where she can stay for the night. When she asks, he takes a moment to consider, and she thinks he might answer her seriously this time.
"You could stay with me."
"Yeah, no." Nona blinks at him. "You do realize we're still strangers, right? I don't know you."
Toye, flushing slightly, coughs, choking on his own discomfiture.
"Right, you don't know me," he repeats, and she's willing to bet the way he scratches behind his ear is a nervous habit. "I didn't mean to... Well. Sorry."
Despite herself, Nona hesitates, a little afraid she might not have any better options. Then he nods down the road and tells her there's a motel just ten minutes down the road that's always got a few rooms to spare, and she relaxes.
"We don't get many travelers through here," he adds, and Nona snorts.
"Well, shit, I wonder why."
It slips out without her thinking. Nona's face starts to flush, but Toye snorts a laugh, unoffended.
"Yeah, yeah. Not much to see around here, I get it." He pats the hood of her coupe and—finally—starts to step away, a bit slowly due to his crutch. "Good luck, College Girl."
Nona's almost sorry to see him go. Almost.
"Thanks... Joe."
He's got the hint of a smile on his lips as he turns away, and just like that, he's gone. She expects she'll never see him again. Not that she minds. He was nice enough, but she's got real things to worry about, like getting to Boston and starting college and having her whole life ahead of her, not kind-of-sweet, kind-of-snarky small-town boys from Hughestown, Pennsylvania. It starts sprinkling as Nona pulls out of the gas station, and by the time she gets to the motel, that drizzle has turned to buckets and buckets. She braces herself, then steps out into the downpour and gasps—it's cold, not warm like she'd anticipated. She forces the trunk with the broken lock open and yanks out her traveling suitcase, nearly wrenching her shoulder in her haste. Racing into the lobby, she gasps in a few breaths as her adrenaline fades, grateful for the stuffy, uncomfortably dry air of the indoors. The attendant at the desk doesn't look at Nona even when she comes right up to him, and she realizes he's asleep in his chair. She rings the bell and that does nothing, so she kicks the desk and he wakes with a start. He sleepily checks her in and gives her a key, and when she asks where her room is, he has the gall to point all the way across the parking lot.
Great. Just fantastic. Now she's got to go back out there in the deluge—but at least she'll have a ceiling over her head once she gets there.
Wrong again.
As soon as Nona tries the key in the lock, she can tell it's not going to fit. She wiggles it around a bit, then—after glancing around to make sure there's not a soul around, and there really isn't—attempts to shoulder the door open. It's flimsy enough that she could probably kick it in, but that would be a bad idea on so many counts, so she grits her teeth and turns over her shoulder to look back at the single light coming through the lobby window. She's not about to leave all of her things here in the dark and the rain for anyone to grab, so yet again, she hauls her suitcase all the way back across the parking lot, growing more agitated with every sopping step. At this point, she's drenched down to the bones, and the sound of her shoes squelching across the shitty carpet wakes the attendant from where he's been dozing off again. He looks confused when she tells him the key isn't working, then takes it and tells her almost immediately that it's the wrong key, not even batting an eye at his own mistake. Nona just barely manages not to cuss him out, mutters her thanks for the right key through gritted teeth, and traverses the parking lot one last resentful time.
The room is lackluster at best, but Nona wasn't all that optimistic, to begin with. As soon as the door is shut and locked behind her and all the shades are drawn on the windows, she hurls the suitcase onto the floor in the corner and strips off her sopping clothes. She rings them out over the sink and hangs them on the towel rack to dry, but now she's shivering, so she wraps herself in a scratchy towel and starts the shower. No matter how long she runs the water, it only gets lukewarm. She should have expected as much. Still, she steps in despite her mumbled curses and feels a little better once she's washed all the grime of the day away. It takes her a bit to brush all the tangles out of her hair, but by then, she's calmed down quite a bit and is starting to realize just how tired she is. So she goes to lie down, but the bed is lumpy as can be, and she gets up again almost immediately. In a last-ditch attempt, she grabs a paperback romance missing its cover off the meagerly-stocked bookshelf and curls up on the surprisingly-comfortable armchair. From page one, she can tell it's going to be a terrible book—the kind even her soft-spoken mother would call 'trashy'—but it fits the bill for her lousy day, so she keeps reading until she's bored asleep.
When Nona wakes up the next morning, she's got so many aches and spots of soreness that she's not sure she can even move. She manages to after a time, and when she goes into the bathroom, the light switch has stopped working. Thankfully, there's a small window above the shower that lets in enough daylight for her to see, for the most part. Once her eyes adjust, she brushes her teeth, combs her hair, and gathers up her clothes, which are still damp but no longer drenched. She knows they'll start to smell musty if she stuffs them into the suitcase like they are, and then all of her clothes will smell, so she decides to drape them over the passenger seat in the coupe and let the sun dry them through the windshield as she drives. Once she's dressed, she takes the key back to the lobby, and the same yawning attendant from last night wishes her happy travels. Oh, if he only knew...
Shaking her head to herself, Nona dumps her suitcase in the trunk of the coupe and gets into the driver's seat. She adjusts her rearview mirror, checks that she's still got her map in the glove compartment, and turns the key in the ignition.
Except, the car doesn't start.
"No, no, no, no, no-"
She tries again, then a third time, and by the tenth, she slumps forward, defeated. Her forehead hits the horn on the steering wheel, and when it blares, she groans right along with it. No one comes out to complain, not even the attendant, so she just sits like that for a minute and groans into the wheel. This is what she gets, isn't it? Maybe she should have been nicer to that Joe Toye at the gas station. He was a looker, wasn't he? Doesn't matter now. No one can help her now that the coupe's run its course. She should have known better than to keep holding on, but all three of her brothers drove this car before her, and she's been hard-pressed to trade it in for a newer model. She wishes she could say the age of the coupe is no big deal, that nine years isn't that old for a car, but that kind of thinking is exactly what has landed her stuck in a motel parking lot, turning a key that won't catch and listening to the car sputter and groan like an old man refusing to wake up from a nap in his best recliner.
And then someone comes up and raps on her window, and when she looks up, she can't tell if it's a blessing or a curse that Joe Toye has found her in dire straits yet again.
"Morning, College Girl."
Though his voice is muffled, Nona can read the words on his lips. She furiously cranks down the window, gaping at first and then glaring.
"You again!"
"Me again."
He gestures with such half-hearted bravado that it makes Nona want to snort with incredulity instead of laughter.
"Of course, you just have to show up like this. Again." She narrows her eyes at him. "Are you following me?"
"No."
"Then what the hell are you doing here?"
He holds up a box of donuts, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at a busy bakery across the street. "Getting breakfast for me and the old man. Want a donut?"
"No, I don't want a donut!"
He shoots her a disbelieving look and she, frustrated to the breaking point, slaps her steering wheel.
"I just want to get the fuck out of here!"
"Something wrong?"
"Well, I'm still here talking to you, aren't I?"
He seems either unphased or amused by her outrage, and Nona isn't sure which is more infuriating. Taking a bite out of a plain-looking donut, he scans her dashboard display.
"Is it your car?" he asks through a doughy mouthful. "That something's wrong with, I mean."
"Yes, it's my car!" she shouts, and a single frustrated blink later, she finds a donut in her hand. "What the hell...?"
"It's an old-fashioned. Best kind, in my opinion." He gestures with his own breakfast treat. "C'mon, eat."
Nona is at a loss, staring at the donut, torn between stewing in her misery and taking the appeasement he's offered. Toye adjusts how he's standing on his crutch, one hand on the windowsill while the other balances the donut box, and studies the hood as if he can see the issue with it still shut.
"What's wrong with the car?"
"I don't know, why don't you tell me!"
He comes back to the window but withdraws his hand. He looks like he wants to be hurt but is choosing to be amused instead. Nona manages to keep her glare going for a good three seconds more before she drops her chin and takes a reluctant bite of the donut. It tastes better than she expects, and better yet, her nibbling seems to have appeased Toye.
"I'm sorry," Nona says at last. "I didn't really think you would've tried anything malicious."
"Malicious, huh? Big word."
She shoots him a look, but there isn't much oomph behind it, and he doesn't bother to react.
"Look," Nona sighs, utterly defeated, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm at the end of my wire, but it's not like it's your fault."
There's a smile creeping back onto Toye's lips, and Nona, for a reason she can't place, is relieved.
"Hey, no sweat. I get it."
She frowns lightly at him, skeptical, already halfway through the donut. She is hungry, despite her earlier protests, and Toye is wise enough not to comment on her change of heart.
"You've been in this situation before?" she asks him.
"What, the almost running out of gas, the storm last night, and the oldest car I've ever seen finally throwing in the towel?"
There is something about having her misfortunes listed out like this that makes them seem less abominable, and Nona softens a little.
"Yeah, that."
"No," Toye admits, "but I know what it's like to have a string of bad luck, one shitty thing after another."
"Yeah?"
His gaze drops toward the pavement, and Nona doesn't have to look to know he's looking at his missing leg.
"Yeah."
Feeling a bit guilty, Nona twists in her seat to face him. He grasps the car door with his broad hands and leans down to look at her, his strong arms filling up half the window frame. When he leans his chin on his hands, looking up slightly to meet Nona's eye, she wonders for an instant how she ever could have thought him a scamp.
"So?"
"So? So what?"
"So you live around here, right?"
He nods.
"You know who I should call for a tow?"
His smile begins to grow, pushing up his cheeks. The dimples it reveals make Nona want to smile, too.
"I think your luck just might be turning around, sweetheart, 'cause you've just befriended the best handyman 'bumfuck nowhere' has to offer."
Nona's cheeks heat up. So he did catch that, last night. Her embarrassment must show on her face, for Toye snickers. When she squints at him half-heartedly, that snicker becomes a laugh.
"We've got Scranton to the northeast and Wilkes-Barre to the southwest," he chuckles, standing up straight, "and you still think we're in the middle of nowhere?"
Although there seems to be nothing but cornfields and tired old streets as far as the eye can see, Nona shrugs and holds her tongue.
"You said you're a handyman," she points out, "that doesn't necessarily mean you're a mechanic."
Toye scoffs. "What good's a handyman if he doesn't know how to work a car?"
Seeing Nona's disbelief has persisted, Toye pouts at her, and she almost feels bad. Almost.
"Really, what else am I supposed to do around here? I get a job fixing someone's busted AC one week and then changing a lightbulb or two for some old lady the next—if the ceiling's low enough that I don't need a ladder. Work comes slow around here for a guy like me."
They both know he doesn't want her to question the 'guy like me' bit, so she skips over it and remarks instead, "So you are a mechanic."
"Yeah, I work part-time at the auto shop down the road. Give me fifteen, I'll drive my pickup back and bring the tow truck to you."
"Are you serious?"
"Of course, I'm serious!" He looks almost offended again. "I'm not gonna leave a pretty girl such as yourself stranded—and if that look you're giving me means anything, I should probably remind you that it is, in fact, my actual paying job to help you."
Nona sighs and tugs her key out of the ignition. "Alright. Well, thank you."
"Like I said, of course."
He tips his head at her, then turns and saunters away toward his truck, wobbling a little with the quickness of his pace. Nona frowns.
"You're going to trip."
He ducks his head, and she can already tell there's a grin splitting across his face without having to see it.
"Aww," he calls over his shoulder, "you do care."
Nona fights back a smile and then resists the opposing urge to flip him off.
"Are you going to get that tow truck or what?"
He waves off her concern, tugging open the door to his pickup, and Nona grumbles empty complaints as she sinks back into her seat. She doesn't realize she's still staring at Toye until he waves and shoots her a smirk. Pretending she hasn't seen, she turns and starts rifling through her glove compartment as if she might find something to captivate her attention there. She doesn't find much there other than a few sticks of gum, two expired ration slips for white sugar (for a cake that the birthday boy never came home for), and two brand-name chapsticks that have melted gruesomely in the heat. She grabs the map off the passenger seat and occupies herself figuring out how to fold it back up. This takes her a few minutes, and by the time she looks up, Toye is far gone down the road behind her, a dark, shimmering speck in her side mirror. In the dashboard console, she finds a packet of Lucky Strikes that her father left there absentmindedly and takes one of the two left. Her lighter is at the bottom of her purse, and by the time she finds it, she no longer wants to smoke. She's just sitting back up (from where she'd bent over her purse) when someone honks their horn. She hits her head on the headrest, and as the cigarette falls into her lap, she swears loudly. Twisting to lean out her window, she readies a snappy word or two only to find Toye grinning at the wheel of a battered tow truck idling behind her.
"I'm back," he calls unnecessarily, and despite Nona's feigned disapproval of the man, she grabs her purse and gets out of the coupe.
Toye hooks up the car and Nona helps a little, then follows his direction to hop in the passenger seat of the tow truck. If he tries anything—which, at this point, she doubts—she's got a solid punch, and the brass knuckles in her purse (just in case) are never far from reach.
"You can drive?" she questions as he opens the driver's side door, then feels incredibly stupid and insensitive for having asked.
"I only need one foot—the clutch is up here on the wheel."
He taps the steering to show her, then hauls himself up—it suddenly makes sense to Nona why his arms are so buff—and settles in behind the wheel. There's a second, smaller seatbelt affixed to the side of his chair, and she watches curiously as he latches it over the stump of his leg.
"Keeps me balanced," he says when he catches her looking.
"It's a good idea," she replies, seeming to surprise him. "I know a lot of people who'd get a lot of use out of something like that."
Something in his gaze has shifted when he looks back at her, something tenderer than she deserves, and she turns away. He doesn't speak as he maneuvers them out of the parking lot. She's glad for the silence until it lasts too long and she realizes with a start that she misses the sound of his husky voice. He catches her jolt and eyes her for a beat, then opens his mouth.
"So... where to?"
She squints at him. “The auto shop.”
“No, no, I mean-” He waves vaguely. “Where are you going once you get outta Hughestown?”
Nona huffs, reticent.
"You know where I'm going, Joe."
He shrugs, a small smile creeping upon his lips as they both realize she's just called him 'Joe'.
"Just trying to make conversation."
They pass a minute or two in silence. Then:
"See any good scenery on your drive so far?"
She shoots him a skeptical look, and he raises his brow at her, awaiting an answer.
"Cornfield after cornfield after fucking cornfield. And then, oh, what's that?" She gestures out the open window. "Soybeans! And not two minutes later: fuck, it's another cornfield."
Toye's laughing, and there's something about the sound that makes Nona—who usually knows when to let a joke end—keep going.
"I've seen more corn in the last three days than I've seen in my entire life—more than I'll ever need to see again!"
"The western half of the state does have a lot of corn, I’ll give you that."
"Holy hell, talk about the understatement of the century."
She throws her hands up, but she's mostly playing her exasperation up to get him to laugh again, and though she's pretty sure he knows it, he plays along.
"So, what, you came up through West Virginia?"
"Ohio."
He hums a note of recognition. "Alright, Ohio. Then straight into Pennsylvania?"
"Yeah, straight into Pennsylvania, which was, to be frank, a fucking mistake."
He snorts a laugh, and there's a twinkle in his eye that Nona finds hard to look away from. "Oh, so you're Frank? I didn't know that was your name."
"It's not, and you know it," she chides him, making a face, but he doesn't tease her like she's expecting him to—in fact, he says nothing. He glances over at her, both hands still firm on the steering wheel, and does it a second time before he speaks.
"Actually," he reminds her carefully, "I don't know that."
"Oh." Nona blinks. "Wait—so you came to help me, a total stranger, out of the unfathomable goodness of your heart, who's cussed you out multiple times, and you don't even care that I haven't told you my name?"
"I never said I didn't care." He tilts his head to the right, then the left. "It would be nice to have a name to call you by, not just 'College Girl'."
Nona's still stuck on the fact that he's helping her just because he can. It feels weird. She's not so sure she's able to believe it, even if she wants to.
"What makes you think you can trust me?" she goads. "That I'm not gonna- I dunno, rob you of all that you own?"
He doesn't even have to think about it. "Your smile."
This baffles her even further. "My what?"
"Your smile," he repeats, turning on his blinker and leaning forward slightly to see around an overgrown bush. "You don't smile much—or, at least, not around me—but when you do, it's like, uh..." He drums his fingers on the wheel, trying to think of the right depiction. "Like when the sun rises after a stormy night. It's... reassuring."
Nona isn't quite sure what to say to that. They pull up to a four-way stop and Toye puts the truck into park. He looks at her and she realizes he's not going to go on without her telling him her name. She feels silly for having withheld it so long, and in an attempt to make amends, she reaches across the dashboard console and insistently takes his hand to shake.
"I'm Winona," she tells him at last. "Winona Christie."
He gives a low whistle. "Like Agatha, right? I like her books. Good mysteries. I borrow them from the library sometimes."
"We're unrelated, sorry to disappoint."
He shrugs. "Not disappointed." A beat. "Winona."
"Oh, no," she quickly insists, "call me Nona."
When he grins at the green traffic light ahead of them, she expects he would be turning that smile upon her were he not focused on completing a U-turn.
"Nona," he muses. "I like it. Nona. Short and sweet." A slight smirk. "Like you."
"Uh-huh."
He quirks a brow at her. "Jeez. Tough crowd."
She shoots him a look, and he lifts one hand off the steering wheel to plead his defense.
"Alright, you win. Look—we're here."
They passed by the auto shop about half a minute ago, and Nona was wondering why until Toye made the U-turn. She sees now that there is no way to get to the shop from the other side of the street, as there is a raised concrete divider smack in the middle despite the road being one lane in either direction.
"Fucking Pennsylvania," she gripes as she gets out of the truck. "Can't build a goddamn road without something wrong with it."
"Now that," Toye says, unbuckling his two seat belts, "I can agree with."
It takes him a minute longer than Nona to get on his feet, but she doesn't say anything about it, and neither does he. He's shutting the driver's side door when an older gentleman in overalls and a button-up shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows comes out of the auto shop. He looks a bit like Santa Claus, with his cheeks all red and his nose big and round. His name is Mr. O'Connery, and as he eats three donuts in a row without ceasing to talk (even more of an impressive feat considering that he's talking coherently), he tells her that he's got a daughter who's a nurse who looks an awful lot like her. She's in Australia, and Nona is here. She feels a little small for a moment, a little useless, and then Joe interrupts and points out the coupe on the back of the tow truck, and Mr. O'Connery is off like a shot. They haul it down and push it into the shop as Nona watches, chewing nervously on her lower lip. They're careful with the old dear, though, and get it into position without a scratch. As Mr. O'Connery eagerly pops the hood, Joe sidles up to Nona and tells her not to mind the old mechanic's chatter—he'll be bragging about his children until the day he dies.
"And that includes you, Joe," Mr. O'Connery adds, overhearing, and when Nona looks at Joe in surprise, she finds him sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.
"In a lot of ways," he tells her, "the old man's another father to me."
Marveling at how old the coupe is (though Nona would beg to differ), Mr. O'Connery calls Joe over to have a look inside the hood, and Nona amuses herself by wandering around the shop. For the most part, the visible walls are covered in various tools and places to hang other equipment, but there's a spot about three-quarters of the way to the back where the only thing from floor to ceiling is a landscape painting the size of a small windowpane. Nona gets up close to look at it, and as she admires the water lilies floating on an unknown pond, she can hear Toye's crutch-step, crutch-step pace coming up behind her. He settles at her side and she points at the painting, her curiosity authentic.
"What's this?"
"It's a painting."
"No shit, Sherlock."
Toye thinks for a moment, then looks at her with a smile, endeared that she's harkening back to his enjoyment of mysteries. Feeling a bit warm in the face, Nona turns back to the painting and gestures at it vaguely.
"Where'd you get it?"
"Paris." He studies the canvas. "Bought it off a street artist 'cause I thought it kinda looked like a Monet."
"Oh, yeah." She tilts her head. "It kinda does."
She's being genuine, and when she straightens up, she sees he's looking at her again. She huffs and steps back, smoothing her hands down her skirt.
"You do that a lot, you know."
"Do what?"
"Stare at me."
Toye snorts. "No, I don't."
"Liar," chuckles Mr. O'Connery as he ambles on over. "Yes, you do."
He holds out his fist and Nona bumps it with her own. Toye groans.
"So?" Nona asks, pretending not to notice how Toye's gone right back to staring at her. "What's the verdict?"
The old man looks at Toye, then at her.
"I think I'm gonna need a few more hours to figure it out."
Nona sighs, and he grimaces sympathetically, slinging a greasy rag over his shoulder.
"Come back around, say, five in the afternoon, and I'll let you know what I can do." He turns to Toye. "Hey, Joe, be a gentleman and take the lady to the diner, yeah? Bet she's starving."
"Are you?" Toye looks worriedly at Nona. "Hey, did you have dinner last night? I know they don't serve food at the motel..."
Nona glances aside. "Maybe."
"So that's a no." He gives her a meaningful look, then starts toward the door, beckoning her after him. "Come on. One donut isn't enough to sustain you for a day—even if it is an old-fashioned."
The diner is mostly empty by the time they get there. Nona supposes that's because it's too late for breakfast and too early for lunch, but she has a sneaking suspicion that the place doesn't hit full capacity even during rush hour. Maybe it's just because the town isn't that big and is full of working people who can't afford to eat out every day of the week. Nona's hesitant to order a full meal, but Toye raves about the steak and cheese until she gives in, and when it arrives, it blows her expectations out of the water.
"You didn't do this justice," she mumbles around a heavenly bite. "This thing-" She points at the sandwich. "-is incredible."
"Right?" He points at the pink delight sitting by her elbow, so far undisturbed. "Try the milkshake."
She does and slumps back in her seat, blissful. Toye takes a sip of his own milkshake and hums a note of appreciation.
"Good, right?"
"I love this place." Nona looks around, her mood drastically improved now that she's got some food in her. "I never want to leave."
Toye laughs. "Because of the company, or...?"
"Don't flatter yourself," she replies, but she's teasing, and it only makes his smile grow.
"I think you like me, after all," he says, trying to steal a fry off her plate and wincing when she swats his hand away. "Hey! Yours are hotter than mine."
"Yeah." She nibbles at her fries, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "That’s ‘cause they're mine."
Toye snickers. "Don't flatter yourself."
With a gasp, she pretends to be offended and throws a fry at his face. He moves his head quicker than she's expecting though and catches it with his teeth.
"Show-off," she grumbles, and he chuckles as he munches away.
"So, College Girl," he says, "tell me about yourself."
"Really? We're doing this, now?"
"Why not?" He dabs at his lip with a napkin. "We're just wasting time until five o'clock."
He's right, so she answers him in full. She's on her way to college, which he already knew, and she's driving there alone because her folks can't travel well, her father with his knee, and her mother with her back. When she mentions that she's from Columbus, Ohio, he perks up.
"I knew a guy in the service from there," he says. "Johnny Martin. You knew him?"
"Johnny Martin who always looks angry unless he's smiling? Johnny Martin who's married to my neighbor Pat? That Johnny Martin?"
Toye's nodding grows more excited the more she speaks. "Yeah!" he agrees almost incredulously. "That Johnny Martin!"
They share a laugh.
"Small world."
"Yeah, small world." He considers, glancing up at the ceiling. "I got a letter from him last week, actually."
This news—that Johnny Martin, who Nona knows only by proxy of Pat—cheers Nona up far more than she would have expected. She beams at Toye and he pauses with the last of his sandwich halfway to his mouth.
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just- it's good to hear that. Really. So where's he at?"
Toye's smiling again, and Nona gets the feeling he likes her more now. "Couldn't say. Censors and all that. But he said it's green and warm and they've got a lake to swim in, so my bet's on France or Austria."
"Ooh, a lake," Nona muses, a tad jealous considering the sweltering heat of the last few days. "And if it's in Austria, it's probably somewhere up in the mountains."
Toye nods. "If it's a vacation they've got, they've more than earned it."
"No doubt about it," she agrees, meaning it wholeheartedly, and his smile broadens.
"Mhm."
After a beat, he leans forward a little, putting his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand.
"So what else? About you."
After she graduated high school, Nona took a gap year in order to save up money for her secondary education. She'd expected to take a four-year working hiatus, but then several sums of painfully-won money came into her family's possession—she's not ready yet to tell him how, and he doesn't ask—and she was able to go this year instead of '48.
"Why Boston?"
"I got in," she answers with a shrug. "It was either that or Ohio State..."
And Ohio State was where my brothers would have gone.
"And Ohio State was too close to home."
It's the truth, but it's not the whole truth, and though he seems to realize that, Toye doesn't mention it.
"So, I'm going to BC. I started the drive to Boston on Tuesday-" Three days ago, including today. "-and now I'm here. And you know the rest."
"Good for you." He points with a fry. "About, uh, 'BC', I mean. Whole world's your oyster now."
"Why do you say that?"
"You're gonna have a college degree in, what? Four years? Two? A Bachelor's or an Associate's in whatever." He shrugs, munching on the fry as well as several of its brethren. "Pretty much everyone's lookin' for one of those these days. Can't get hired for much more than the kind of work I do—work with my hands—without one."
"That's not true," she says without really believing herself, and Toye shoots her a skeptical look.
"Trust me, sweetheart. Times are changing. Soon there's not gonna be much room left for stupid guys like me."
"You're not stupid, Joe," she argues. "You read Agatha Christie mysteries, for one, you bought a street artist's painting in Paris because you knew it looked like a Monet, for two, and for third, I suspect you've looked into this whole college thing for yourself, or you wouldn't know the difference between a Bachelor's and an Associate's degree."
Nona realizes she's glaring at him and quickly blinks away the expression, leaning back as she hopes she hasn't made this strange friendship of theirs any more awkward.
"Well." She crosses her arms. "So there."
He stares at her for a moment longer, then puts his milkshake down and crosses his arms on the table.
"My Dad made me drop outta school when I was fifteen," he reveals quietly. "I had to go work in the coal mines so my brothers and sisters could eat."
Nona's face suddenly feels hot with anger—not at Toye, but at what he had to go through. Her family has never been well-off, especially not during the Depression, but she never had to drop out of school to work. No child should have to do that. And for the coal mines? Jesus Christ Almighty.
Nona doesn’t realize she's been mumbling most of her sentiments aloud until Toye grimaces and tilts his head back and forth.
"Yeah. Well, they can eat now, without my help. But hey, at least it wasn't war." He chuckles grimly. "That came a few years down the road."
Nona looks down at her plate and pokes at her fries. She's not hungry anymore. When she offers them to Toye, he makes a face and apologizes for bringing the mood down. She hesitates a beat, then asks if he'll allow her to sink it to the floor.
"Go ahead."
"My brothers are dead. All three of them."
She looks out the window. She hasn't cried in months, and it's strange to think she might start now.
"It happened over the last few months. First Patrick, then Don—Donaghue—and finally Michael."
Toye is silent for a long moment.
"So you've got an Irish family?"
While they've been sitting here, dark clouds have rolled in, threatening more rain. She can see her companion's reflection in the glass of the window. He doesn't look all that concerned. In fact, he looks like he's spent a long time talking about Death—as it stands, he's probably narrowly missed meeting the man himself—and he knows how to do it well.
"Yeah," she answers softly, knowing she's waited too long for her reply to make sense, but he gets it right away.
"Me too."
He ends up taking her fries, then leans back and nudges her foot under the table with his own, nearly losing his balance in the process. He's been too kind to Nona for her to mention it, even in teasing, and she nods, allowing him to say whatever it is he wants to.
"I get it now."
"Get what?"
"Why you're so bitter."
She balks, but he shakes his head, drumming his fingers on the table.
"No, really, I get it. I was pretty bitter too when I first got back."
She glances at the crutch leaning against the side of their booth, and he nods.
"Happened last January. You ever heard of the Bois Jacques?"
"No."
"Nobody does. Not unless you live there—or General Eisenhower boots your ass to the middle of the fuckin' woods." He leans over the table, and though he tries to hide it, Nona notices his shiver. "Like I said, it was January."
"Brrr."
Just then, thunder rumbles, and the lights in the diner flicker. Toye winces and Nona instinctively reaches across the table to touch his hand. He stares at her fingers covering his, and just as she's about to draw them back, he turns his hand over and takes hers to hold.
"You wanna get outta here?" he asks, still studying her hand as if trying to put it to memory.
"And into that?" She frowns at the rain starting to pelt the windows. "No fucking thank you."
So they stay at the diner for another two hours until the weather lightens up, and by then, they're so deep in conversation that neither wants to leave. It's not like Nona's got anything to do all afternoon other than stick with Joe. But maybe she shouldn't phrase it that way—after all, she's really starting to like him. So when he offers to take her back to his place, telling her it'll be quieter and that he's got a pitcher of fresh iced tea in the fridge from his mother, she accepts. At the stop sign just around the corner from his house, he pulls to a stop even though there's not another car in sight. She half suspects he's being warier as a driver now that he's got her in the passenger seat. She appreciates it, even if she wouldn't tell him so. They end up sitting at his kitchen counter, sipping iced tea so bitter it makes their lips pucker and talking about everything under the summer sun. When her watch finally indicates it's a quarter to five, she almost doesn't notice, but Joe does, and he gets her to the auto shop right on time.
"Bad news, I'm afraid," is what Mr. O'Connery greets them with, and when Nona's shoulders slump, she catches Joe about to wrap his arm around her in a side hug. She wishes he would, but he drops his hand instead and clears his throat roughly.
"What bad news?"
"I'm gonna need more than a couple o' days to fix this old puppy up." He looks back over his shoulder as he puts his hands on his hips and rocks on his heels. "Shouldn't be too long, less than a week, but, uh... You're stuck with us until then, kid."
"I kinda figured as much," Nona sighs, already picturing another night in that miserable motel, but then Toye pokes her arm and she remembers she's got a friend to fall back on now.
"I know you called me a creep last time I offered, but, uh, I do have a spare bedroom..."
To her surprise just as much as his, Nona turns and hugs him in a burst of gratitude. It's brief, but it's still something, and when she steps back, she sees he's blushing.
"Sure, yeah.” She glances aside, not sure if she should be embarrassed or endeared at his pink cheeks. "And, uh, Joe—thank you."
She ends up staying with him for a week and a half. It's longer than she thought, and she keeps having to make calls to her landlord out in Boston to update her on the situation. She's not very happy at the delay, but she's forgiving enough, knowing that there's nothing Nona can do about it. She calls her folks, too, and though her father thinks it's just the funniest thing that the old coupe finally broke down, her mother starts sobbing, and they have to hang up. It's jarring and raw and Nona freezes with the receiver still in her hand until Joe comes up to her and gently hangs it back up. He holds out a deck of cards and distracts her with canasta for the next hour until the iciness in her chest has abated and she can take a full, deep breath again.
She's not sure when she started, but she's taken to calling him 'Joe', addressing him by name much more regularly than she did before she moved in. He gets a twinkle in his eye whenever she does. He still calls her 'sweetheart', but she knows if she told him to stop, he would. Strangely, she doesn't him want to. Only sometimes does he address his teasing to 'Nona', and when he does, she gets a little flutter in her chest. It's just her name, what everyone calls her, but there's just something about his voice, something about him...
A week in, she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror, her hands shaking as she clutches the sink, and swears she's not falling in love with him.
She goes down the hall and discovers the pleasant smells coming from the kitchen are him making breakfast for her. It's almost done, he says, knowing it's her without having to check, pull up a chair. The second she sits down, he serves up two fried eggs, a slice of bacon, and four triangles of toast, and she stares at it for a moment, her heart thudding in circles around her chest. That first day in the diner, he was asking her all sorts of things she thought were silly, like how she liked her eggs in the morning. She told him rather flippantly, but he's remembered nonetheless. He keeps stealing glances at her from over at the stove like he wants to know what she thinks, so she takes a bite and smiles at him. When he beams right back, his whole face lights up, and she knows she's done for.
He takes her all over town during that week and a half. She can tell it's not easy on his arm and his leg to be walking around with his crutch all the time, but she knows he would hate her worrying over him, so she says nothing, just walks a little slower than she usually would and then speeds up to open doors for him before he can ask. He drives them everywhere, and though Nona has offered once or twice to sit behind the wheel, he says he likes driving. It's one of the few things he can still do almost exactly the same as before. He brings her to a different place every day. First, it's the diner, then the library, then the park, then the movie theater... If Nona didn't know any better, she'd think he was trying to squeeze six months' worth of dates out of ten days. But he's just her friend, and 'date' is not a word they could ever use to describe these outings with just the two of them looking at each other too long. He's just her friend, just for now while she's stuck here in Hughestown, and even if that makes her sad to think about, she'd never tell him. If she did, she's certain he'd look at her with those sad, soulful eyes, and she'd tell him how she's falling, harder and faster than she's ever fallen before, and how she knows he's going to break her heart when she leaves, and that's why she's so sad. Not because she'll miss a new friend, but because she's leaving a piece of her heart here, whether she likes it or not.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
It's been nine days and Nona is still in Hughestown. She's sitting with Joe in their usual booth at the diner, and for a change, she's the one staring at him. She ducks her head and twirls her straw in her milkshake, taking a slow sip as if it will hide her from his curiosity. It does not.
"No reason," she mumbles, and he snorts a laugh.
"Uh-huh. I definitely believe that."
When she looks up, he smiles encouragingly, like he wants to hear what she has to say. She's still getting used to that. Even with her folks, she doesn't really have that kind of open ear. Not that she doesn't love them, she does... They were just always more attentive to her brothers. Now that she's the only one left, it isn't much different. Maybe it's just that they're all still grieving. Yeah, that's got to be it.
Nona's chipped heart won't let her believe otherwise.
"It’s just... It's hard to get used to," she admits aloud, then goes quiet, not sure she's got the courage to tell him the rest.
"What is?"
He pokes the side of her hand, looking a little worried that he's done something wrong, and that just won't do, so she tells him the truth:
"Being someone that someone cares for."
He softens, taking her hand to hold.
"Of course, I care about you." His smile tugs up at the corners. "I need somebody to help me pay the rent, and I've been thinking maybe you could stick around-"
It's exactly the kind of joke she needs to hear, and she grabs her hand back, laughing and scolding him for his beautiful, thoughtful insensitivity.
"What do you think of Boston?" she teases him, actually a little curious as to what he'll say. "Or is that too big of a city for small-town Joe Toye?"
"Depends on how high the rent is." He leans his chin in his hands and drums his fingers against his cheeks. "I'll consider it."
It's the closest they ever get to the stay with me? they both know better than to ask.
Nona made Joe take her on routine visits to the auto shop for the first few days, but then Mr. O'Connery told them not to bother and that he'll call Joe's home phone when the coupe is ready to go. Still, they drive past the building sometimes on their way to the diner. The traffic light outside the shop is always green. Nona has decided it must be broken. Either that or she and Joe have impeccable timing. On the tenth day, the stoplight is red, and Joe puts his blinker on to make the U-turn. Now that she thinks about it, he's been antsy all morning. Is her car fixed? Now she's the antsy one as they pull into the parking lot. Mr. O'Connery is already on his way out of the garage, and why he looks a little grumpy, Nona couldn't say.
"Here we go," Joe mumbles as he climbs out of the pickup, and Nona doesn't get the chance to ask him what that's supposed to mean before the old mechanic is upon them.
"I know you like her," he says to Joe, thumbing at Nona, "but that coupe's been taking up space in my garage for the last ten days."
"I'm sorry," Nona says, reasonably shamed, "I had no idea the problem was that bad."
"That bad?" Mr. O'Connery blinks at her. "You needed a few engine parts replaced, but that only took me a few days." He points at Joe. "I called this fool nights ago and he said you'd be around to pick it up in the morning."
Nona gapes at him for a moment, then whirls on Joe, who looks incredibly guilty. When he sees how upset she is, he starts to harden, hiding his hurt behind a set jaw and a stern brow. That just makes her feel worse. He's never closed himself off to her before, and she's certainly not about to let him now. She marches right up to him and crosses her arms, bending her neck to try and catch his gaze. Those dark eyes of his that she's come to adore, that now look anywhere but at her, dart away, ashamed, and her heart twists into something ugly in her chest. She thought she could rely on him, her one friend in this lonely town. Evidently, she can't.
"Joe. Joe."
He finally forces himself to look at her, blinking hard, and she's not even sure what to say until he licks his lips and she looks at them, and her splintered heart cracks even further.
"What the hell?" She throws up her hands. "Seriously, Joe, what. The. Hell. What the fuck!"
"I'm sorry."
She scoffs. Just a few minutes ago, she would have believed anything he said. Not anymore.
"No, you're not."
Turning on her heel, she starts to march away, heading for her car and the open road, the only two things she knows she can trust right now.
"Nona."
She ignores him, and then he starts to come after her, and then he falls, and the sound of him hitting the pavement is ten times worse than her heartbreak. She goes to him at once and helps him off the ground, and when he looks at her, it’s the first time she’s ever seen him scared.
"I'm leaving now," she tells him, but then Mr. O'Connery clears his throat, and Nona gets the sinking feeling that she's going to be stuck here for a little longer.
"You can't take it yet," he says a bit awkwardly, tugging at the straps of his overalls. "I still have to tow it up to the gas station... I had to make sure you were actually coming to get it before I filled up the tank." He sucks on his upper teeth and tilts his head back to look at the grey-blue sky. "Come back in, say, an hour and she'll be good to go."
"Can't I just come with you?" Nona starts to ask, but then the pickup starts behind her and she remembers all of her things are back at Joe's place. "Shit. Nevermind."
"Hey-" Mr. O'Connery wags his finger at her, and she nearly slaps his hand down in a flash of ire. "-he didn't mean anything by it."
"How do you know?" she snaps, and he squints at her, meeting her bitterness head-on. She can see where Joe gets it from.
"I've seen the way that boy looks at you." He shakes his head soberly. "Don't you lose him to something like your pride."
She stalks away without responding, but she does call a weary thank you over her shoulder for having fixed what seemed to her a hopeless case of a car. She'll pay him as soon as she gets back, not just for the work but for the gas, too, but first, she's got to get her wallet—and all the rest of her belongings—from Joe's house.
They drive back in silence. Nona is huddled up against the car door. She can feel it when Joe looks over at her for more than a second, and she turns her head further away each time. When they get to the house, she jumps out of the pickup and hightails it inside, letting the screen door slam behind her. She thinks, cruelly, maybe if he can't get in, he won't be able to break her heart again. She's in the guest bedroom, throwing her belongings into her suitcase, when she starts to feel the anger fade. She slows her frenzy, then stops and looks around. There are still Easter decorations in here from last Spring, courtesy of Joe's mother. She tears her gaze away and nearly hiccups, feeling the shadow of her own mother's grief. On the desk, there are a dozen letters Nona has started and never finished, addressed to her brothers. She snatches them up and throws them in the wastebasket by the bed. Worst of all, there's a blue baseball cap sitting beside the lamp on the bedside table that she's worn so much, Joe has told her to take it with her when she leaves. Her hand hovers over it, but she can't bring herself to pick it up. She turns her palm up toward the ceiling and watches her fingers shake until a voice comes from the doorway.
"I told you you could take that hat."
Nona stuffs her hands into her pockets, then pauses, a little confused as to when she put her jacket on. It must have been while she was dashing about the room, running high on the red of anger.
"I don't want it."
"Really?" His voice breaks, and she wishes it hadn't, because there goes her heart, straining against her ribcage for her to go to him. "I thought you liked that hat."
Finally, she turns around, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. Joe comes a few feet into the room, then stops when she asks him:
"Why are you trying to keep me here?"
He looks like he might start shaking at any moment. She's afraid if he does, he'll blow away like a leaf in the wind, and then she'll really never see him again.
And despite it all, she really wants to see him again.
Which is why it hurts so much when he looks at the floor and shakes his head as if he can't give her an answer that won't hurt her.
"Joe, come on, just tell me."
"I shouldn't."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She pushes up off the wall and starts toward him. "I'm not stupid, Joe—and neither are you, so don't even start with that—and I know you've got a reason, and I think at this point, I deserve to know-"
She's started to raise her voice, and then he looks up and it all falls away. She can't speak. He licks his lips, takes a deep breath, and puts his shoulders back.
"Nona," he tells her, and she feels like she's watching his heart break in real-time, "I'm in love with you."
He's right, he shouldn't have said that. And then he says more, and Nona can only gape.
"I'm in love with you," he repeats miserably, "and I know that if I say goodbye, I'm never going to see you again."
"That's-" She waves her hands, but her feet are cemented to the floor by desperation, and she cries out. "That's so selfish, Joe! Don't you know that?!"
His face falls. When she abruptly starts toward him, almost falling as her feet are suddenly released from their anchors, he doesn't seem to realize she's got more to say. He winces, ducking his head again and retreating into his shoulders like a turtle who's lost his shell.
"I know. Fuck, I know. I just..."
He trails off when she arrives and cups his chin in her hands, lifting his head slightly so she can look him in the eye. Tears have gathered in his lashes, and now they begin to fall. He swallows thickly.
"I just couldn't help it."
Guilt at having caused his tears heats Nona's cheeks, but the pounding of her cracked heart echoes in her ears and tells her she can't back down now.
"Don't you know I'm selfish too?" she whispers, and before either of them can say another word, her lips are on his. She kisses him hard enough that he comes close to losing his balance, but he puts his trust in his crutch, and once he's steady again, he flings his arms around her—both his arms. His fingers flex with emotion as he clutches at her back and she feels the bittersweet knife of longing cut a jagged trail through her chest. She has to leave, she has to go to Boston, there is no changing that—it almost makes her break away. But Joe kisses her again and again and she cannot bring herself to step back. Even when they do part, they don't go far; she can still feel his shaky breath on her lips when he lets it out in a wanting sigh.
"Maybe you're selfish," she whispers at last, "but I'm worse."
"What? How?"
She gulps back the floundering excuses her fear wants to offer up and forces herself to tell him the honest truth, no matter how it burns her throat coming up.
"I'm kind of, well- I'm in love with you, too," she confesses, brushing a lock of hair off his eyebrow, and he stares at her like she's just told him there's an eighth wonder of the world and he'll be the first to see it.
"But..." He fumbles for the words. "But how is that worse?"
"Because I'm the one leaving."
She expects him to let her go—it is no less than she feels she deserves—but instead he pulls her back to him and wraps her in a hug. He pushes his face into the crook of her neck, brushes his lips there in a kiss, and holds her so tight there is no room for her fear to stand between them. Eventually, she relaxes, and he takes a deep breath before standing up straight. They do not separate entirely but stay in a sort of half-embrace, touching but not locked together as before. Joe leans in and kisses Nona on the forehead, reverent, and it is his tenderness that makes her finally start to cry.
"Oh, no, no," he pleads, brushing his thumbs gently across her cheeks. "Don't cry, sweetheart. Don't cry because of me."
"How could I not?" she chokes out. "I've just got you, and now I have to let you go."
He gets a funny look on his face, but there is a determination building beneath every stirring motion. He moves his hands to hold her face, his palms cool against the sudden heat in her cheeks, and Nona tries to force her trembling lip to still.
"Whoever said that?" he asks, and his voice is softer than usual, drawing over Nona like a warm wool blanket on a chilly morning just before dawn.
"I, um..." She shrugs, not quite helpless but not strong enough to make this decision on her own. "I don't know."
"Well, you can tell them they're wrong. Very wrong." He leans forward and rests his forehead against hers, watching her with a slight wariness as if he's afraid she'll start crying again. "The most wrong, even."
She giggles, just a little, but it is enough, and a smile cracks Joe's serious expression.
"There it is. Oh, that smile." He draws his thumb over her lower lip. "I'm gonna get a photo of that smile before you leave, yeah?"
"Yeah," she agrees against his lips, unsure who started leaning in first but not caring now that they've met in the middle.
"You promise?" he pulls back just slightly, though not without effort. "Promise you'll smile for me, sweetheart."
"I promise," she whispers, then goes back in for another kiss.
Forty-eight minutes later, once she's gone and paid Mr. O'Connery for his hard work, she drives the coupe right back to the house. Come hell or high water, she's going to keep that promise—and she does. When the sunlight comes out from behind the clouds and streams in the windows, it finds her sitting at Joe's kitchen table, looking just past the lens of his dented Kodak camera, and smiling because it's him she's looking at, it's Joe, her Joe. He takes the photo, waits a moment, then comes around the camera and kisses her.
"Call me when you get to Boston," he whispers, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. She's tempted to cut it off and give it to him right then and there.
Her suitcase is waiting by the door. She's already a week and a half behind schedule. She has no more excuses—and no more time—to delay.
Nona strokes her thumb across his jaw and studies his face. He leans into her touch.
"Joe?"
"Hmm?"
He's been looking at her lips. She's been looking at his.
"Think I could stay one more night?"
She leaves for Boston in the morning. Before she wakes up, he takes a photograph of her tangled up in his sheets, her hair splayed across the pillow like the streams of Mother Earth, her body a beautiful Appalachia beneath the covers. He tells her what he's done and she can see his relief when she smiles and tells him to get it developed.
"To remember me by."
Nudging a kiss against her shoulder where her shirt has slipped down, he tells her he could never forget her, and she believes him.
The summer flies, and though the heat persists, her life is happier with him in it. Her parents think she's crazy for driving back and forth to Hughestown every other weekend to see him, but hey, her roommate at Boston College thinks it's romantic. Secretly, Nona does too. Sometimes she meets Joe in the middle. At first, this means Hartford, Connecticut, but they quickly get sick of the dangerously wild traffic and relocate their meet-up spot to Poughkeepsie, New York. It's quieter there. Still, she prefers seeing him in Boston, where he seems happier, and Hughestown, where he seems happiest, so they brave the commute. On the day the war finally ends, she cries on the phone with him for three hours. He's not afraid to cry, too. Johnny Martin comes home from Austria (they were right, after all) and he and Joe meet up once or twice to catch up over drinks that Autumn. Nona is very happy for them and sends her love to the newly-pregnant Pat.
By the time Winter overtakes the East Coast, Nona has been to Hughestown dozens of times and ultimately decided the middle of bumfuck nowhere isn't so bad after all. She thinks she might like to grow old in a sleepy little town like this—but not for many years. For now, she'll take Boston with all its gritty glamor, or Columbus, where she returns for Thanksgiving and then Christmas. Joe comes with her for the latter, after which they drive overnight to see his family on the 26th. Nona isn't prepared for all the friendly attention she gets from his older siblings, and when Joe finds her crying outside on the porch in the snow, he takes her out to their old spot at the diner, gets her a milkshake, and just sits with her until she's okay again. He gets it. He always does.
Months and months go by, and as Winter melts into Spring, Nona starts getting antsy. She wants to be with Joe more often. She's smart enough not to forsake her studies for more time with him, but it's hard, and she misses him, and he knows it. Loving someone so far away is immensely difficult, but at the end of the day, she wouldn't trade him for the world.
He shows up in Boston right before Easter with his pickup packed with all his worldly possessions. There is still a little snow on the ground from the last blizzard. She watches him skirt it on his way to the door. He's wearing a tie. Why is he wearing a tie?
Nona nearly falls down the stairs twice as she flies to meet him on the stoop.
"I've come to stay," is how he greets her when she flings open the door. "Marry me?"
Nona has never fancied herself the marrying sort.
Then she sees the ring in Joe's hands and the tears in his eyes, and immediately, there is nothing more precious in the world than the thought of being his wife.
"Yes," she whispers against his cheek, clinging to him like they're the last two on earth. "Yes, Joe, of course, I'll marry you."
"Of course?"
She smashes her lips against his and he melts, smiling into her mouth as he finagles the ring onto her finger. When they part, they've both started to cry, and Nona laughs, cupping Joe's face in her hands.
"Of course."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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#band of brothers#joe toye x oc#gift fic#hbowardaily's secret santa '22#secret santa#rebeccapearson#band of brothers fanfiction#hbo war show#hbo war show fanfiction#band of brothers one shot#hbo war show one shot#joe toye#happy holidays!
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