#also i decided to change where my bed is i want to do a mezzanine

[weirdcharacter]

I'm so happy, my house is coming together nicely and I'm also working on the dino-park, hopefully I'll be done with the first step by next week or in two weeks time 🤗

[drethanramslay]

Late nights, Date nights

Pairing: Ethan x MC (Leah Garcia)

Word count: 4.1 K words

Warning: There is fluff and humour in the beginning and smut towards the end. If you are not comfortable reading it, I have distinguished is with asterisks (*)

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @sekizincimektup @junggoku @ethandaddyramsey @edith-eggs1 @ethanramseysgirl (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list 😊)

Songs: Eyes off you by Prettymuch and Unbelievable by Why Don't We

Forgive me if there are any mistakes.

Ethan was pacing around in his office, marching so hard, that it left tracks in the carpet of his office.

C'mon Ethan, Leah is your fucking girlfriend. You can eat her out but, can't ask her out on a simple fucking date??!!

It was their six month anniversary, after months and months of pining over each other. When he thought about it now, he wondered why was he so against the concept? He thought that he was doing the right thing by not giving in, but in the end, he just ended up hurting himself and his Leah.

Leah... His sunshine.

The concept of nicknames never really appeased him. It was such a ‘teenager�� thing to do. When he was with Harper, the word 'babe' made him cringe so hard that it made him want to throw himself off the railing of the mezzanine floor of the hospital.

But with Leah, it was different. She breathed back life into the parts of his soul, which he thought were long dead. She constantly challenged him, pushed him to be a better doctor, a better friend and a better partner. She brought light, to the valleys of abyss and grief. Just like nothing can escape light, Ethan could not escape Leah's affection.

And he didn't want to run anymore..

He had never felt these intense emotions in a very long time. His mother leaving him at a tender age of eleven, made him grow up way to soon. It fucked him up. It made him close up and build walls to protect his heart from such earth shattering pain. It made him distant and cold.

But now he laughed more. Smiled more. And he knew that Leah was the one who saved him.

His salvation. His saving grace. His sunshine.

He decided enough was enough. He spoke to HR and Naveen and they gave them the green light. Leah had already made a great reputation in the hospital for her work ethic, her passion and her compassion. So why waste anymore time?

Ethan was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice Leah come in. "Woah woah Ethan. Are you trying to wear the carpet thin? You just got this office?!" Ethan looked up and saw Leah leaning against the door, with a smile. She was wearing a green blouse with a black pencil skirt. Ethan approved mentally.

"Hey sunshine."

"Hey yourself." She said as she closed the door and stepped into Ethan's embrace. He buried his face into her hair, and inhaled the lavender scent, which immediately soothed him. To him, she smelled like spring. She was perfect.

God, could you be any more sappier Ethan? Be a man.

But he knew, that if Leah even looked his way, he would be down on his knees.

"How was your day?" Ethan asked as he kissed her crown.

"It was so productive. I saved a nine year old girl today. Seeing her parents happy... It was beautiful."

"Well, I never doubted you once." He said with a tender smile, cupping her cheeks. "Also, do you have plans for tonight?"

"Yeahhhh, today is just an ordinary day, with no anniversary whatsoever. I was planning on going home and binging on greys-"

"Sunshine, don't talk shit."

"Hey, but you still love me."

"That I do... Anyways I have made a reservation in 'Osteria' tonight to celebrate our anniversary."

"E, you know that I wouldn't mind staying in bed and drinking cheap wine right?"

"I know, but I want to spoil my baby!! Be ready, I will pick you up by seven."

"I will be ready."

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Ethan rolled up to Leah's penthouse and send her a message. He had donned his black tux but had skipped the tie. He unbuttoned the top buttons of his crisp white shirt. He was going to call her again, when he heard a tap on the window. He looked up and the phone almost fell out of his hands.

Leah stood in front of him, wearing a black evening gown. It was an off shoulder, which showed her collarbones. She was also wearing the ruby stone necklace, her birthstone, which Ethan had gifted her on her birthday. Her jet black hair had been tied up to a messy side bun, a few rebellious strands blowing in the night wind. He steeped out to open the door for her when he almost tripped at the sight.

The dress had a slit which almost went up to her thighs, putting those glorious bronze legs on display.

God, she was gonna be the death of me.

"Wow. You look gorgeous Dr. Garcia."

She blushed red. "You don't look so bad yourself Dr. Ramsey." He pecked her on her lips.

"Shall we?" He opened the door for Leah, like a true gentleman.

"Yes, we shall." Leah giggled and stepped in. Ethan walked around and sat in the driver's seat, and they pulled out of the curb.

The entire ride was filled with jokes, heated gazes and silent promises. Ethan had placed his hand on her bare thigh, slowly caressing it. Leah knew that it was risky to wear such a gown, but she took the chance anyway. And now here she was, slowly going crazy with Ethan's hand on her thigh.

She wanted to devour him. He looked delectable and so very handsome in a tux. The open buttons, gave her a peak of his collarbones and she literally salivated. Collarbones have always been her weakness.

Soon, they showed up at the restaurant. After handing of the keys to the valet, and borderline threatening him that if there was even one scratch, he would have a nice chat with the manager, they headed towards the restaurant.

"God Ethan, you are such a Karen." Leah giggled.

"I maybe old, but I got that reference!! And no, I am not. I am particular."

"Whatever floats your boat babe." She linked her hands in his and they headed towards the hostess.

"Welcome sir and ma'am. Do you have a reservation?" The hostess asked.

"Yeah... Please check under the name Ramsey."

The hostess checked the log book for a long time. Ethan started sweating. What was taking her so long?

"I am afraid but, there is no reservation under that name sir." The hostess replied timidly, after Ethan's cool eyes landed on her.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Hundred percent sir."

"But it does not make sense...I called two months before to get a reservation... Do you have any empty tables?" Ethan said, pinched the bridge of his nose, slowly getting frustrated.

"Sorry sir but... All the tables are occupied."

Goddammit Ethan!! You had one fucking job.

He led Leah back to the valet and ran a hand through his hair. "I am so sorry sunshine. I just wanted this evening to go perfect and I had to go fu-"

Leah put a finger on his lips. "No. You haven't fucked anything up. It's the gestures that counts. Also, the night is young."

"But you heard the hostess-"

"Well, I have some ideas on how we can spend our anniversary." Ethan just gave her a quizzical look. She took the car keys from the valet and turned towards Ethan and winked. "Get in the car Ramsey. Get ready for the best night of your life."

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"So your 'best night' includes shopping at Target??" Ethan asked amusement sparkling in his ocean blue eyes.

"Shut up. Where we are going, we need a little more casual clothing."

"But I like your gown. It helps me slip my hand-"

"Shh Ethan!! We are in public. Keep it PG 13 for now." Leah said, as she blushed red. Ethan just laughed, enjoying teasing her.

Leah proceeded to pay for the clothes and pushed Ethan into the changing room with his set of clothes. Ethan simply obliged because by the look of the determined glint in her eyes, he didn't want to be trampled by a woman on a mission.

The dark jeans fit him perfectly and the grey V-neck fit him snugly. He was wearing his slip ons when Leah came out of the dressing room, smoothening her outfit.

She was wearing a black tank top which she tucked into a baby pink skater skirt. On top of the tank top, she had slipped on a denim jacket. "How do I look babe?" She asked as she observed herself in the mirror.

"You know that even if you wore a potato sack, you would still be the prettiest woman I have ever laid my eyes on, right?" Ethan said earnestly.

She gave a soft smile and kissed his bearded cheek. She plopped down next to him and slipped on her white converse hightops.

"Seriously sunshine? Converse again? You literally have so many at home."

"Well I don't have this style. And you know what they say, 'once a converse girls, always a converse girl'." She said as she brushed him off.

"Sunshine.... literally no one says that."

"It's all in the details, E. C'mon let's go."

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After a half an hour drive, Leah pulled into the make shift parking lot near the docks. They got out and Ethan let out an appreciative whistle. "Wow."

Leah had brought them to the annual fair, where there were tonnes of food stalls and gaming places. The entire place had been decorated with LED lights that were illuminating the Boston night sky. The Ferris wheel stood tall and proud, moving at a gentle pace. The place was littered with a number of game stalls like 'shoot the bottle' and 'ring toss' where people competed to get a prize. Fairy lights hung from the trees around there and a number of people were sitting under them, laughing, eating and drinking cheap beer.

On the other end there were a number of food stalls open, which were being catered by the numerous food joints in the city. The crowd near the ice cream vendors and the cotton candy vendors were unreal.

"Oh. My. God. Ethan they have go karting as well!!" Leah exclaimed grabbing Ethan's arm and pointing towards the make shift track. The karts had designs in various neon colors and the entire track had been painted with glow in the dark paint.

Leah continued to point at the different places and stalls, talking excitedly, but Ethan's eyes stayed glued to Leah's face with a small smile. The child like wonder in her brown eyes made Ethan melt. Her voluminous dark hair blew with the wind, caressing Ethan's face. The way the neon lights reflected on her caramel skin, the way there was an pearly smile on her face and the way she clutched Ethan's arm made his heart do somersaults.

"Are you even paying attention?" Leah asked, breaking Ethan from his reverie.

"Sorry, I didn't get the last part. Was blow away by how beautiful the view is."

Leah rolled her eyes and smacked Ethan's arm. But there was a small smile on her face.

"Let's go to the go karting place."

"Oh yes. Can't wait to see you behind in the dust." Ethan said with a teasing smile.

"Oh honey. I can't wait to see your face after I defeat you. If you think I am going to go easy on you just because I love you, you are very very wrong." Leah said with a coy smile.

"Oh you are so on. Winner can ask the loser anything and buys snacks."

"Let's do this." Leah said as she cracked her knuckles.

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"So...what do I ask you?" Leah questioned herself, with her fingers tapping against her chin. She had won hands down. She got a tacky medal which she decided to wear for the rest of the evening. She just continued to wear a smug smile on her face, so that she could annoy Ethan.

"Please, just get it over with." Ethan groaned as he munched on the caramel popcorn.

"Hmmm.... Which is your favourite place to kiss me?"

"Hmmm..that's a tough question.. see, my favourite place is your pussy but I think your neck would be my favourite place to kiss." Ethan mused.

"Why?" Leah asked as she took a bite of bite of the cotton candy, letting it dissolve on her tongue.

"There are three reasons- One, the moment I kiss your neck, you have that wanton and 'fuck me' expression which drives me crazy. Secondly, the moans you let out are....oh Lord. Just thinking about them gives me a bad case of blue balls. And lastly, you become so wet and ready for me... It makes the experience much more memorable." He said nonchalantly as he continued to munch on the popcorn, seeing Leah's reaction from the corner of his eyes.

Leah was blushing wildly. Ethan may come across as a gentleman but his dirty talk made her knees weak like jello. He could speak things that would make a priest blush. "That's not true." Leah weakly objected as she stuffed her face with cotton candy.

"Oh really? So if I do this.." Ethan reached to place a hot, wet kiss on the spot below her ear. Leah's mouth opened slightly at the intense feeling. Her body flushed wildly. Her toes curled as Ethan continued to lick and suck. She felt herself getting wetter and wetter when his teeth sank into the tender spot on her neck. After what seemed like eternity, he pecked it and moved back to admire his handiwork. "....it won't do anything?" He asked in a husky voice.

Leah didn't dare to look at him because she knew that if she would, her face would betray everything. Also she didn't want to see the shit eating grin on his face.

"Shut up." Leah grumbled as she tore and ate her cotton candy more aggressively.

"But I didn't say anything!"

"I know what you are thinking so shush."

Ethan laughed a deep laugh, his dimples on display as he wrapped his hand around her waist. "It's okay sunshine. You can tie me up and have your way later." He said as he kissed her crown.

"Oh look, there is a shooting booth." Leah said, changing the topic before her mind could go into full fantasy mood of Ethan being below her, moaning her name as she rode him six ways to Sunday.

They reached the stall which was decorated in a western country style. "Howdy! Wanna shoot somethings?"

"I'm a healer but.." Leah picked up the shotgun and loaded it while Ethan rolled his eyes. He will never understand her obsession with anime.

"Shoot all the balloons on that board and then you can choose what prize you want." The guy with the handlebar moustache said.

With quick precision, she shot all the balloons in a matter of seconds. She then twirled the gun around her finger and blew the smoke away. "And that's, how you do it in the wild wild west." She said in a smoldering voice.

Ethan and the gamekeeper had their jaws on the floor.

Could she get any more attractive? Ethan asked himself.

"Damn girl.." the old guy with the funny moustache spoke.

Leah gave out a short laugh. "If you don't mind, can I get those rose tinted glasses?" She pointed to a pair of cat eye sunglasses.

"Sure girlie."

After wearing them she grabbed Ethan and walked hand in hand towards the next booth. "Sunshine, what is the point of these glasses if they can't even cover your eyes?"

"These are stylish and I can wear them when I am going out."

"I don't think I can ever understand your sense of fashion."

"Uh duh!! You guys can't even distinguish between 'peacock blue' and 'turquoise' colour."

"Is there even a difference between them?" Ethan asked incredulously.

"A fine example right here."

Ethan lightly shoved her but Leah just held onto their intertwined fingers. She pulled him to her, went on the tip of her toes and kissed him. Ethan cupped her cheek and kissed her slowly and tenderly. The sounds of people talking, the mainstream pop music playing through speakers, everything disappeared as they kissed each other under the neon lights.

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"Oh god...I am so full!" Leah groaned she leaned back on her hands. They were sitting under a secluded tree, with golden fairy lights hanging off them.

"Sunshine, I think you will have to roll me out of here." Ethan groaned as his hands caressed her bare thighs, which she had thrown over his lap. He picked up their popsicle sticks, and threw them in a perfect arc, into the nearby dustbin.

"I can't roll out a 6 feet something skyscraper on my own. I would die."

"Sucks to be short." Ethan stuck his tongue out.

"Hey your tongue is blue!!" Leah exclaimed.

"And your is red from the strawberry flavour." He observed.

"Wanna make purple?" Leah asked slyly, waggling her eyebrows.

Ethan guffawed at the expression and soon she also joined in his laughter. She clutched her stomach. "Oww....shouldn't try to laugh too much. Gosh, I shouldn't have taken that second helping of Quesadillas."

"C'mon let's take you home." Ethan stood up and grabbed Leah's hand so that he could pull her up to stand. She dusted her skirt and then intertwined their fingers. She leaned against him, as they headed towards the exit.

"Sunshine?"

"Hmm?"

"I had a lot of fun today. Thank you."

"You can thank me in different ways later." Leah said, as her brown eyes darked with desire.

Ethan just smirked and squeezed her to his side.

"That's a promise baby."

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The moment they entered Ethan's penthouse, Ethan pressed Leah against the door. Leah's let out a sharp breath and she looked up at the stormy blue eyes. She could see the desire and the lust swimming in those blues of his and she could also feel the desire in her, ignite like a slow fire.

Ethan cupped her cheek and pulled her in for a heated kiss. She went on her tiptoes to meet him half way. With their lips locked in a passionate embrace, she still felt that he was too far away. So, she hooked her fingers on the belt loops and tugged him closer to her.

Getting the memo, he moved closer until they was no space between them except their clothes. Ethan reached to take her jacket off, which he threw across the room. The need to get her naked, writhing and moaning under him, was becoming overwhelming.

She took out Ethan's shirt and moaned when she felt his warm skin on hers. She wrapped her arm around his neck while she laid her other hand on his bare chest. Her dainty fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. They caressed his chest, his back, his abs and were about to go lower, to his happy trail when he growled and caught them.

He grabbed her thighs and lifted her so that her legs were around his waist. He took her hands and pinned them against the door. The kiss was a fight for dominance, where nobody seemed to be a clear winner. Leah slipped her tongue into his mouth and he groaned appreciatively.

He tastes like ambrosia, sweet nectar and all the good things in life. Leah knew that she could never ever get over the way he tasted.

Ethan lifted her with ease and led her to the first surface he found, the dining table. He moved his hands under her tank top and groaned when he found out she wasn't wearing a bra.

"God Leah, you know how much control it takes to be around you? That when you pull such stunts on me, I just want to bend you over and fuck you on the first surface I find?"

"So what's stopping you?" Leah asked. She pulled him in for another searing kiss.

"After I am done with you...you won't be able to walk for a week." He spoke in a husky voice, filled with need. He took of her tank top and growled appreciatively at the sight of her breasts.

Leah smiled coyly. "Don't make promises you can't keep Ramsey." Ethan just narrowed his eyes and kissed her with so much force, that it made her gasp. His hands reached for her ass and squeezed it.

He then descended on her neck kissing and licking the small droplets of sweat accumulated on her neck. He slowly grinding against her heat, making her aware of how badly he needed her. His hands went from her ass to her breasts. He massaged it before pinching the nipples. Leah yelped. Ethan did not once show her mercy, as he stimulated each sensitive spot on her body. Leah felt as if her nerves were on fire.

He slowly made his way down south, leaving fiery hot kisses on her body. Not having any patience left, he just lifted her skirt up and quickly slid her panties out. Seeing her exposed pussy just made his jeans tighter around his growing erection. He blew air on her wet cunt, leaving goosebumps on their wake. "What are you doing?" Leah asked breathlessly. She was finding it hard to keep her eyes open due to the desire coursing through her veins.

"What we do on a table Sunshine.... Eat." His dark blue eyes met her brown ones and he licked her dripping slit, slowly. Leah thought she was going to loose it at that very instant.

He gripped her thighs and threw them over his broad shoulders and proceeded to eat her out, properly . He swirled his tongue on the sensitive bud of nerves and then went on to stick his tongue into her wet pussy.

He let out a moan, which resonated deep in her core.

He never once slowed his pace. He continued to lap up all the moisture. He alternated between her clit and her cunt. As he pushed his fingers in her, and fucked her, Leah climbed higher and higher. Her stomach started to tighten, with the need to release.

"Oh god...I am gonna come..."

Ethan stopped his hand movements and rose to his full height. Leah's eyes snapped open and she glared at him.

"Fuck you Ethan!! Who the hell gave you the fucking righ- ohhhh."

He shoved his dick slowly into her, enjoying the way her walls clenched around him. They fit each other perfectly. Like two jigsaw puzzles. You couldn't differentiate, where he ended and where she started.

This..this was heaven.

He slowly moved, in and out. But Leah wasn't having it.

"Ethan, I want you to fuck me."

"Are you sure you can handle it sunshine?"

"I ain't no weak bit-" Leah couldn't complete her sentence because at that moment he snapped his hips and started fuking her. He held her hips with one hand for leverage and his other hand gently squeezed her throat, feeling her rapid pulse under his hand.

He did not let go of the punishing rhythm he had set. He moved his hips in such a way that he hit her on that spot which made Leah see stars. It was quite a view for Ethan. The moonlight streaming through the glass facade and illuminating her sheen skin. Her eyes half closed, her breasts moving with every stroke and her legs wound around his hips.

"Please, please, please let me come." Leah choked.

Ethan also felt a tingle in his lower back and his abs constructing. He was close too. His strokes became faster and shorter.

"Okay sunshine. Come."

Just that one word and Leah obeyed. She felt a burst of pleasure rush through her body, setting every part of her alight. She saw fireworks behind her eyelids. She hadn't even come down when, Ethan's release caused her to have another mini orgasm.

It was too much. Way too much.  Aftershocks racked her body and tears streamed down her face as she soared through cloud nine.

Without pulling himself out, he gathered Leah in his arms and took her to the bedroom. He gently laid her down on the bed and pulled out and headed to the bathroom to get a  washcloth. Leah winced and felt empty like a crater.

Ooooh boy, gonna feel that tomorrow.

Her eyes were closed as she tried to catch her breath and get her head straight. Ethan slowly wiped her neck, her stomach and her sore centre, instantly cooling her body down. He threw the washcloth into the laundry basket and slid into his bed. He wrapped his strong arms around Leah and pulled her close to him. He bent down to kiss her lips tenderly.

"I love you sunshine."

"Happy six months, babe. I love you." She gave a tired smile and they both slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Wow that was the longest I have written. *wipes brow*

Like, reblog and let me know how you liked it :))

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [10]

Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 10.5 OR Chapter 11

➜ Words: 4.8k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

➜ Warning: Spoilers to the musical Les Mis.

cr.

You show up in sweats.   If you could, you’d take a swig of the rosette right about now. But you’ve long run out and decided not to buy more after the other day’s embarrassing stunt at Jimin’s doorstep.   You still cringe when you think about it.   So instead, you eat chocolate. You gnaw on the king sized bar like it’s Halloween and you’re indulging in the post-trick-or-treat spirit.    Your hair is also unwashed, a spectacular three day record now. It’s itchy at some parts and when you scratch, white fluff comes dusting from your scalp. You haven’t showered in general for a while. There’s no point, really. Not when you don’t have any arrangements, responsibilities, no job to go to.   The unemployed life isn’t actually a bad one — as long as you don’t think about the inevitable doom of your bank account and having to go into debt to pay off bills.   Your life sort of feels like that picture of that dog that’s sipping on coffee while thinking ‘this is fine’ and the room is on fire. But what can you do?   “Is she…”   “...yeah…”   “....it’s true then?”   There are whispers that you’re not unaccustomed to, stares behind your back that you can feel and sense in your peripheral vision. “...the ghost singer…”   You turn around to look and the girls immediately seal their lips, looking away. They pretend to be discussing other things, but still, you hear it all around you.   “So is she really the Phantom? How is that possible?”   “Don’t ask me.”   “Do you think she can really sing?”   “Probably not. She’s only here because it would bring in publicity. We all know that.”   Your efforts are fruitless. They’re right. You’re not going to get a role. You’re only here to satisfy people’s curiosity.    “L/N Y/N?” The girl reads off her list. “Is there a L/N Y/N here?”   Fuck it.   What do you have to lose? You’ve lost it all anyways.   “Here!”   You raise your hand, voice loud and clear. The murmuring of the girls cease once they confirm that it is you. But you pay them any mind, finishing the chocolate bar in the awkward silence. You chew your mouthful and smear your stained hand on your grey sweatpants, leaving a streak of brown on your thigh.   You toss the wrapper in the garbage.   “Uh...right this way,” the girl says as she gestures past the curtain.   Many auditions take place in closed off rooms, but it’s an open stage this time. A modest size with the pianist tucked in the corner. There are five people sitting before the front row, a panel of them — some producers, directors, writers — you don’t know and you don’t care much for their titles either.   It feels like you’re on some TV show, ready for their judgment.    Your nose runs with snot and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. “Hi.”   “You’re L/N Y/N?” There’s a shuffle of papers, people peering up at you past their glasses.   “Yes.” You swallow the last bit of chocolate in your mouth, clearing your throat. You hope your teeth aren’t stained. Well….if they are, it wouldn’t be the biggest deal.   “You worked at the Phantom of the Opera production?”   You should probably head to the supermarket after this and get some ice-cream. You’d definitely feel better with it, curled on your couch with a warm blanket and some television to drown out the silence of your apartment.   “Y/N?”   The call of your name has you focusing again. “Pardon?”   The woman is dressed cleanly in a blazer with her hair pulled back into a bun like yours. But hers is undoubtedly neater, probably holding a bunch of pins, maybe even hair-sprayed. Yours was bunched up carelessly with a stretched elastic you found on the floor of your closet.   “You worked at the Phantom production?” she repeats.   You give her a bland answer, but one that’s unfortunately the entire truth. “As an intern.”   One of them pipes up, “Can you tell us any details about your previous work at the Phantom production?”   “I did coffee runs.”   “Umm….” The younger female in the middle gestures with her hand. “Did you do anything else?”   “I swept the floor. I did a lot of paperwork and printed things out for the director there,” you list out and shrug. “I don’t know. Things like that.”   They exchange looks with one another, probably not expecting such a boring response. “Did you...contribute to the performance in any way?”   Your eyes dim. Of course — this is what they wanted to know all along. It’s the reason you’re here in the first place. But they shouldn’t have beaten around the bush. If they asked over the phone, you would’ve told them. They didn’t need to waste their time like this.   But unfortunately, the honest truth isn’t as glamorous as they think it is. “The actor couldn’t sing, so I did. Behind the curtain.”   “And how did that come about?” someone asks with a frown, and you can see the girls peeking out from the curtain to your left, listening in.   “They needed someone,” you deadpan. “I volunteered.”   “Well...alright then.” He clears his throat and the others shift uncomfortably in their seats. You wonder what it is that they wanted to hear from you, what kind of gossip they were anticipating. “What are you singing for us today?”   “Do you have a preference?”   “Uh…” They look at one another and some shake their heads. “No, not really.”   You approach the pianist with a sigh. You didn’t prepare, but after countless auditions, you know all the basic audition pieces inside out. Every lyric is embedded into your mind. Pathetically enough. But they’re all the same — they gave you the same outcome of failure.    “Do you have any sheet music?”   The pianist blinks at you and timidly points to the top of the upright piano. “You can look in the binder.”   You flip it open and grab for the first paper-clipped set, passing it to him. “Here.” Then you step up to the middle of the stage again, cueing the pianist with a lifeless hand and the notes start, light and optimistic much to your displeasure.    Usually, you’d begin to feel your palms become clammy. But instead, your fingertips are sticky from melted chocolate. “There’s been a change in me.” Your voice draws from your chest hastily without much care. “A kind of moving on.”   Typically, your heart would be pumping fast to the point where you could feel it all the way in your throat. Your mouth would go dry. A cold sweat would wash down your body. But you don’t feel any of these things.    “Though what I used to be, I still depend upon.”   Your knees don’t quake. You don’t need to hide any tremors in your hands.    It’s not a real audition after all. This is a joke.   And if anything, you feel pissed. No matter where you go, you’re strung along by people for their own entertainment.   “For now I realize. That good can come from bad.”   It’s supposed to be a touching song sung by Belle in Beauty and the Beast. It’s supposed to be gentle. Hopeful. But every word is filled with your aggression. It’s hostile and indignant. You’re exhausted at being humiliated and you wail out the lyrics in grief. It tears from your throat.    If they wanted to hear you sing, they were going to hear alright.   “That may not make me wise. But fuck,” you ad lib, “it makes me glad.”   “And I—” you belt the note in a kind of bitterness reserved for a resentful villain, and a kind of sadness bleeds into it. It’s not at all like a kind protagonist that’s meant to be a delicate princess. Your voice even warbles against your will, cracks at the top, but you don’t care. You embrace it. “I never thought I’d leave behind my childhood dreams. But I don’t mind.”   You look off to the top of the stairs in the small auditorium. You’re reminded of how you once sang on a stage like this, how a brunette boy appeared from thin air and began clapping for you.   “For now I love the world I see.” You shut your eyes to savour the memory. “No change of heart, a change in me.”   You stop. The piano slows and ends. It goes completely silent.   One of the men open their mouth and then closes it. “Um….”   You spare them from having to sugar coat it and tell you how awful you are. “Thanks for the opportunity.”   You step off the stage, grab your bag, and brush past the crowd of males and females preparing to audition. They all stare at you — but for reasons you’re wrong about. Though you don’t dwell long enough to find that their expressions aren’t of detest. You hop down the stairs and take the emergency exit out.   //   You don’t know where to begin with your belongings.   For one, you’re going to need cardboard boxes bigger than those containing your instant noodles. If you’re going to go home, you need to pack up your furniture somehow. But in the meantime, you haul out your dusty luggage from the back of your closet. You kick the busted wheel to roll it a few meters before hurling it on your bed with a sigh.   You’re not sure what clothes to leave behind and which to take with you.   The mattress dips underneath your added weight and you look over to the hanging dresses that you never go to wear, blazers and pencil skirts that are unwrinkled and were only pulled out for the occasional audition….   You stand on your feet after a prolonged moment, not yet feeling the urge to dump all the hangers onto your bed and fold up the clothes into neat squares. Instead, you put it off by heading to the kitchen for more ice-cream.   But as you grab for a spoon, you pass by that counter. The one with the abandoned ticket pushed to the side. It catches your eye and you’re suspended in your spot, feet rooted to the ground. You almost forgot — it’s tonight.   You hold the ticket up to the light. It’s a dark blue with a streak of red, a young girl on it facing the horizon. Les Misérables, a front mezzanine middle row seat.   It wouldn’t hurt to do one more thing before you begin packing to go home…   Right?   //   You’re startled when the bell at the top of the door jingles to signal your entrance.   “Welcome to the Bloom Room!” A female in a green apron turns around with a bouquet of flowers and shears in the other hand. All around her are fancy floral arrangements, from wreaths to overflowing vases. The fresh scent overwhelms your senses, vibrant hues that render you even more uncertain. “How may I help you?”   “Umm..”   She smiles softly at you. “What kind of flowers are you looking for? Anything specific at all?”   You glance at the surroundings, still unsure. Maybe you should get something that’ll convey how sorry you are, for showing up drunk at his doorstep, for saying all those mean things to him. Something that’ll make amends, to tell him you really miss him, his presence, friendship.   You should get something that’ll communicate how thankful you are for him — for always being there even when you pushed him away, for always supporting you, for being your backbone when you needed it.   “Just….something nice, please,” you end up telling her with a modest smile.   “Certainly.” She leads the way, through the shelves and cases of flowers and bouquets. The florist glances at you, sincere in her gaze. “What’s the special occasion?”   “Oh no, there’s not a special occasion.” You shake your head and your hands, and the volume of your voice quiets as you try to explain. “Well, not really. I’m just bringing it with me to a show tonight. Someone I know is performing for the first time on stage.”   “How exciting! What’s your relationship with this person?” She stops at a station that has jars filled with single flowers, an array of brown paper and ribbons on the side. “Friends? Family member? Boyfriend or girlfriend?”   “Umm…..” You don’t know why it’s taking you so long to think about it. “Friends…?”   And you certainly don’t know why there’s a hint of doubt in your voice either.   The florist’s pupils flicker up to you, a hint of a knowing smile gracing her features. “How about peonies? They’re very delicate and I think it’ll be perfect to bring with you to a show. Seven of them and some baby’s breath and lilacs.”   “That sounds nice.” You nod and she begins to choose them. But you wonder if it’s strange to bring flowers to him. You clear your throat. “Is it…” The woman turns to look at you. “Is it weird to give flowers to a guy?”   “Not at all,” she assures you. “Trust me, everyone loves to get flowers.”   “Do you…..think I should deliver it or give it to him?” You’re unsure of what protocol is. You’ve never bought flowers for anyone before.   “Oh, you should give it to him,” she tells you without a trace of doubt. “That’s just me, but I think it’s much more personal to hand-deliver.”   You nod and there’s a moment of quiet before you remember something. It flickers into your mind, a memory hitting you in the face. And your eyes light up.   “C-Can I get them in purple?”   //   The show starts at seven thirty, so you arrive twenty minutes beforehand.    Your ticket gets scanned and you shuffle into the auditorium. There are lots of people, a sea of glamour, couples going on dates to musical fanatics eager to watch their favourite theater performance to critics ready to analyze the show. You tug on your little black number that ends at your knees — it’s modest and simple, but one of the many dresses that you never got to wear. But there's not a lot of time to be self-conscious or to second guess yourself. The people are a tide that rushes in, and you’re overwhelmed, pushed forward by their force and unable to escape.   The theater is grand, brightly lit with the red curtains pulled down. You find your seat and hug the small bouquet of flowers in your lap.   When the show finally begins, the lights dim down completely and it’s glorious. Music begins to play, thundering through the auditorium, and men march onto the stage holding sledgehammers. “Look down, look down. Don't look 'em in the eye.”   Your eyes search for Jimin, but he’s not here.   If you remember the details of his role correctly, you have a feeling he won’t show up for a while. So you sit back and try to relax and watch. But the anticipation and excitement of seeing him keeps you on alert. Any time there are characters entering the stage, your eyes always scan across.   It’s not until an hour later that you finally see the familiar boy at the very corner of the scene, catching the edges of the spotlight. Immediately, a smile tugs into your cheeks.    Jimin’s singing with the others, wearing a long brown coat with disoriented hair. He plays the part of a young man from a rich family well. You can practically see the fire in his eyes.   “Look down and show some mercy if you can! Look down, look down, upon your fellow man!”    The song is similar to an anthem, riling up the crowd for a revolution. “It'll come, it'll come, it'll come... It'll come, it'll come, it'll come…”   Jimin doesn’t have a main role, but he’s still on the stage of Broadway, singing with many others. You’re happy to see him, elated that you know the boy that’s actually performing, and you have to hold back from giving a sudden standing ovation.    “Before the barricades arise?”   The crowd breaks up as the police enter the stage and just like that he disappears again. But ten minutes later, it’s his time to shine again. Jimin’s one of the nine men — the main character, Marius, and the supporting character, Enjolras, taking the limelight, but he’s one of the many students sitting around a table, at a supposed bar.   “Red!” one of them sings.   The male playing Marius faces the audience. “I feel my soul on fire!”    “Black!”   “My world if she's not there!” the main actor responds with vigor.   “Red!” Jimin belts with others.    “The colour of desire!”   “Black!” he sings again, and you can pick up his voice between the timbre of others.    “The colour of despair!”   Jimin sings with the actors and it echoes throughout the theater. While he never sings a line by himself, you can still hear his tone ever so slightly before it melts away. “The dark of ages past! Red — a world about to dawn! Black — the night that ends at last!”   His appearance is sweet albeit short. You see him one more time right before the intermission when the cast comes onto the stage and sings for the hope of the future in ‘One Day More’.    Afterwards, it’s a fifteen minute break. It’s an hour and a half through the show, but the intermission allows people to relieve themselves at the restrooms or grab a drink at the bar. In your case, you stick around, grasping the bouquet. The brown paper crinkles under your grip and you peer at the curtain as if hoping he’ll run out.   Instead, you catch Jimin coming out from the left door as the other people are spilling out of the auditorium.   But it’s bad timing.   He doesn’t come to where you are, but towards the orchestra section, right by one of the closest rows to the stage. An older woman and man stand, clapping and jumping. He runs into the woman’s arms and squeezes him.   It’s his parents, and you smile before turning around to walk away, not wanting to interrupt the intimate moment with your presence. His parents must be proud.   You’re happy for him.   //   The show continues afterwards. Jimin makes a few more cameos here and there without singing any lyrics, simply in the crowd at the barricades. Although, he does say a few lines.   “See! The people unite!” — “So what are we going to do with this snake in the grass?” — “You wear an army uniform.” And when Éponine dies, he comforts Marius. “She will not die in vain…”   But Jimin does sing one line by himself in the song ‘Drink With Me’. His eyes sweep across the audience floor as he steps forward, pretending to take a swig of the empty beer bottle. “Here’s to pretty girls who went to our heads!”    And you swear he looks right at you.   As if he had memorized where you would be seated.   But Jimin looks away right after, his eyes passing your spot. You release your held breath, realizing it was your imagination. There was no way he could actually see you.   The show lasts another forty minutes, filled with the spectacular performances of the leads, their beautiful voices that captivate your attention and everyone else’s. During the finale when the storyline has wrapped up, everyone comes onto the stage again. You see him one last time there.   Jimin is singing, smiling wide, looking out at the audience.    It could not be a better Broadway debut.   You muse that he truly belongs on the stage — there’s no place else he should be. Along with the rest of the audience, you give a standing ovation. The applause roars throughout the auditorium, actors and actresses bowing and waving goodbye.    When it dies down, the bright lights come on again. People begin trickling out and you’d leave as well, if not for the bouquet of flowers you’re still holding onto.   You look around. “U...Um excuse me…”   You stop someone who looks like a worker and they blink at you, confused. You swallow hard and hand over the flowers. “C-Can you give this to Park Jimin? He was an actor in the production.”   “Sorry.” The teenager awkwardly points to a family that’s gathering their belongings to show he’s with them and he offers a kind smile. “I don’t work here.”   “O-Oh. Sorry.” You bow your head and they say it’s no problem. But you’re still cringing from embarrassment, and now you don’t know what to do, how to give it to him without having to face him. You should’ve thought about this better.   But before you can contemplate any solution, you hear a sudden—   “Y/N?!”   Jimin’s sweaty. Like he sprinted here as fast as he could the second the curtains fell. His parents are nowhere in sight, probably in the lobby, but he's here with you. Still in costume. The nineteenth century french clothing — blue trench coat, puffy white shirt underneath, brown slacks.   His hair is riled up with what looks like soot pressed to his cheeks, makeup of some sort that makes him appear even more disoriented and soiled. But he doesn’t care. You don’t either.   His chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath. The two of you stare at each other, pupils locked into one another’s, holding the other’s attention. Captivated. Then after a beat, the biggest and goofiest grin spreads into his face. It’s enormous, causing his eyes to crinkle into half-moons.    “You came! You...actually came!”   “Y-Yeah…” You’re stunned and you tear your eyes away, the intensity becoming too much for you to handle. Your arm extends. “These are for you.”   “Flowers?!” He breathlessly giggles and takes them. Jimin doesn’t fail to notice that they’re all shades of purple, from lilac to violet. Because of you, purple has become his new favourite colour. “I love them. Thank you!”   “C-Congratulations on your debut, Jimin.”   He grins, so much that his rosy cheeks look like they’re about to burst. His teeth peek out, eyes crescent moons. “Thank you. I’m glad you could make it.”   “S-Same here…..” You don’t know why he’s gazing at you so intently at you. It makes it hard to keep eye contact. “You were really amazing.”   “I didn’t have that many lines,” the boy giggles, still giddy and hyperactive. It makes you smile.   “But you were still good.” There’s a lot of things you’ve been wanting to tell him, a million versions of an apology that you’ve practiced in the mirror. And now that he’s here and you’re no longer staring at a reflection of yourself, you gather your courage to face your regrets. “You deserve it, Jimin. I’m...sorry for everything that I said. I’m sorry for being resentful towards you. I’m sorry for being jealous. It wasn’t your fault. And all those things I said to you, I didn’t mean it. A-at the time I did, but now I don’t...I don’t know if that makes it any better but...yeah….I just…..you were great, you worked hard, so…”   It’s the shittiest apology. Worse than the first one you practiced. But you can’t get it out right.    You feel nervous for the first time in Jimin’s presence. A kind of anxiousness that doesn’t make you feel sick. Rather, you feel something else in your stomach — it’s fluttery. Something uncertain brewing there, stirring at its pits.   It feels similar in your chest. It isn’t a foreign sensation, but one you had ignored for a long time now.    Jimin suddenly laughs, noisy and hearty. It squeaks, a higher pitched giggle. It makes you look at him, eyes hesitantly lifting off the floor. And then you yelp.   Jimin picks you up right off the ground, arms locked around your waist. He spins you in a circle, squeezing ticklish laughter out of you. Your hands immediately come to grab his shoulders. The boy is unable to contain the adrenaline pumping through his veins and the overwhelming joy of you being here.   “Jimin!” you squeal.   He laughs. “God, I’m so happy that you’re here!”   “Did you think I’d miss it?” you quip and it feels like forever since you’ve been able to joke around like this. “Not for the world, Park!”   He sets you down to your feet again. His swelling smile might just break his face. He nuzzles into you, hair tickling your forehead. Jimin hugs you tight. He’s so happy, you can practically feel it radiate off of his skin. And your chest blooms with pride instead of envy. “Your Broadway debut was amazing. It only gets better from—”   “Can I please kiss you?”   Your heart stutters.   Jimin pulls himself apart from you. The sudden question has you blinking twice. But the temptation for Jimin has gotten too much. If there’s one thing that could make tonight even more perfect, it would be him kissing you…   You glance at his plush lips before your pupils flicker back to his eyes.   “You don’t need to ask.”   Just like that, he roughly tugs you in by the small of your back. The flowers lose a few petals from the harsh motion. But Jimin doesn’t care. He kisses you like he’s been waiting to do it for months now. He kisses you like he wants you. He’s hungry for it and savours your whimper that’s muffled between his soft lips. He’s been wanting to hear your voice like this.   Jimin’s half-lidded eyes soak up your pleasured expression before he gives in, shutting them to succumb to your scent. He breathes you in and you become helpless in his arms, the pad of your fingers pressing against the nape of his neck. You’re unsure if you want to part just to gasp for air, or if you want to push him even closer.   But your thoughts turn to mush as his hot tongue licks inside your mouth, eager. The pair of you don’t care that other people might be watching, that you’re placed in the middle of the auditorium, that you’ve stolen the spotlight.   When the both of you break apart, you stumble back from each other, mouths swollen. You wipe away his saliva that’s made your lips shiny with the back of your hand. The both of you are dazed and embarrassed, catching your breaths, his own cheeks reddened.    You divert your eyes from one another. But then infectious giggles spill over.    God, you might’ve been in love with Park Jimin for a long time now.

Director Lee sits at his desk with a sigh.   He shuffles his papers before sitting back in his swivel chair, unsure. Right at that moment, a blonde, lean man enters with a hot brewing cup of coffee. The assistant sets it on his desk.   “Are you sure you should be taking in caffeine this late at night?”   “Not like I’ll be able to sleep anyway.” He brings the cup up for a small sip. “I’m still deciding on the main cast.”   “Who do you have?”   “The casting director narrowed it down to these people.” He lays out the applicants of possible options and sighs. “Now I just have to decide who’s going to be part of this and who’s who. You should’ve been there today, Kim. If you weren’t late, you might be able to help me right now.”   “Sorry.” Taehyung sheepishly grins. “My alarm clock didn’t ring.”   The director is disgruntled, but still playful. “Same excuse every time, Kim.”   Taehyung laughs, but still tries his best to assist. He scans over the applications haphazardly, but then his breath hitches. He turns his body to get a better look and his eyes grow wide, recognizing you. “Oh. What about her?”   The director follows to where his assistant is pointing and hums a low note. “Oh. Her. We called her since we heard she was the ghost singer of Phantom.”   “Oh yeah.” The blonde nods. “I heard about that.”   “I was thinking about tossing her papers.”   “Why?” Taehyung looks at his mentor, genuinely curious.   “Well, her audition was….” He struggles to find the right words. “Impactful. It was really something. She stood out, that’s for sure.”   “Then….?”   “I just don’t know if we could find the right place for her.” He shrugs and taps his finger against the armrest of his chair. “She might outperform the other actors and actresses.”   Taehyung makes a noncommittal sound at the back of his throat. “I don’t know. But I think she should be considered for a role. That’s just me, but I have a good feeling about her. You said it was impactful, right? Isn’t that what we should be going for?”   Director Lee glances at his assistant, but Taehyung simply smiles and waltzes out the room.

[saibh29]

Lucky Charms and Coffee (Part 1/2)

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Reader

Warning: 1 Night stands, Swearing

AN: A request from a lovely anon. Hoping they don’t mind that I’ve changed it a little. I couldn’t write a ‘reader’ who would let Kelly kiss them knowing he’d brought another woman home... 

One with Severide please where he has one of his friends with benefits over but realises it’s you he wants and comes down the stairs and kisses you up against the wall🤤 thanks!! You’re the best I look forward to reading your uploads every night🥺

*****

You couldn’t decide, it was too hard a decision and what if someone got hurt because of your decision. You hated making choices, it was way too difficult. Your eyes darted back and forth between the two boxes trying to pick.

From somewhere on the upstairs mezzanine a girlish giggle rang out followed by the much deeper voice of a man.

Jesus, not again.

Choice made for you, you pulled the box of lucky charms off the shelf along with the chocolate crunch and got your bowl from the cupboard, the bowl was clearly yours as the inside was decorated with pink cupcakes and rainbows. You mixed the two cereals together coated them in full fat milk and carried it over to the breakfast bar to devour.

You’d gotten yourself perched on a stool by the breakfast bar shovelling sugary cereal into your mouth when the girlish giggles got even louder and soon enough a blonde-haired barbie was tottering down the stairs into the living room still wearing the sparkly sequin number from the night before. Kelly following behind her had a pinched expression on his face that normally meant he was getting a headache and needed everyone to shut up and leave him alone.

The blonde reached the bottom step of the spiral staircase and stopped dead, mouth opening in a pretty little ‘o’ when she locked eyes with you.

Kelly almost ran into the back of her, eyes jumping to where she was looking, he spotted you as well.

“Morning” you waved your spoon at them both in greeting but otherwise ignored them, much more focused on injecting sugar into your system with cereal.

You’d seen this walk of shame way too many times to count. At first, when Kelly had first wheedled his way into your spare room, you’d tried to talk to them. Then when you’d begun to realise that you’d never see the same woman more than once you’d slowly given in.

Now it was a wave at most and mainly you scampered before they even came down.

You hadn’t heard the usual noise coming from his room last night though, didn’t have any clue that he’d even got a woman in there.

You could hear Kelly trying to gracefully extricate himself from the blonde at the door, and a few minutes later the slam of the front door.

Kelly came back towards the kitchen, rubbing at his temples.

Before the cereal choices had started to ruin your morning, you’d flicked the coffee machine on and you pointed to it now.

“Should be done”

“My angel” Kelly sighed grabbing on of the larger mugs from the shelf and filling it to the brim before coming to sit beside you.

“She seemed nice”

“Really?”

Shrugging you put one more heaped spoonful of cereal in your mouth. “Could be”

From the drawn expression on Kelly’s face and the slightly green tinge to his skin he’d drank more than usual last night as well. He pushed his coffee mug further away so he could lay his head down on the counter. “Her laugh went straight through my brain”

“It was rather high pitched, but then again I doubt it was her laugh that attracted you to her last night” he turned his head to open one eye, that eye looked fairly pissed off. “Those were some very bright… sequins”

Kelly pushed himself back up again. “You jealous?”

“Of what? Barbie?” snorting in derision you scowled at him. “Why would I be jealous of that?”

“Because she actually looks female?”

“Excuse me?”

Kelly took a deliberately long look at you, eyes processing the leggings you had on shoved into fluffy socks with pictures of Garfield on. Then moving up to the over sized jumper you’d gotten from one of your brothers. It was bright pink with little sparkly stars covering it. Your hair bundled up into a messy bun and not a lick of make up on your skin.

“Don’t worry angel, some men like the quirky look”

“Get lost Kelly” you finished up your cereal quickly, dumping the bowl in the dishwasher and coming back to stand beside him. “Just because not all of us are happy to jump into bed with the first person to speak to us”

“Angel…”

“Stop calling me that. How many times do I have to tell you?” you’d worn angel wings for one Halloween more than 5 years ago now and Kelly still wouldn’t give up on that stupid nickname.

“Y/N…” at this point even Kelly seemed to have registered that he’d screwed up. He’d gone past the usual level of banter that the two of you shared and veered into seriously insulting. “I didn’t mean, I'm still semi drunk, just ignore me”

“I ignore you most of the time Kelly. Trust me” reaching out you took the still half full coffee mug from him. “You don’t deserve my expensive coffee anymore”

Leaving him sat at the breakfast bar you went back into your own room.

Stupid Kelly and his stupid Harem. What was wrong with the way you dressed? Sure you didn’t look like sequinned barbie, but you were… comfortable.

Damn him.

You stared in the mirror at yourself. Maybe you could make more of an effort. The baggy sweater did nothing for your figure, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d worn a bra with a wire. Why would you? Wires we’re so uncomfortable. You bet barbie wore a bra with a wire, probably one of those fancy lacy monstrosities that pushed your boobs up to under your chin.

Did it really matter what Kelly thought though? You’d gotten over your stupid crush on him years ago. Happy to accept the fact that you would never be the type of woman he went for.

However, an evil thought started to take root in your brain. Would it be so bad to prove, at least for one night that you could do… sequins just as well as the next barbie.

Grabbing your phone, you found Gabby’s number calling your friend and the reason you knew Kelly in the first place.

‘Y/N? What’s up?’

‘I need to borrow a dress’ you said without preamble ‘and possible a bra, one with a wire and that push up effect’

‘umm, ok. What’s going on?’

‘I have something to prove, mainly to myself, but also possible a little bit to Kelly’

‘What’d he do now?’

‘Doesn’t matter. Can you help me?’

‘Sure. Come over and we’ll see what we can find’

With Gabby on board you felt a bit more confident. Gabby always looked hot; she could fix you up in not time. You were going to prove them all wrong.

****

@lifesaclimb-buttheviewisgreat  @lclb13 @moli1497   @clementines-x @the-chosen-one-time-lord @no-other-names-availible-blog @angelaiswriting @selldraug @angryares @thenovarose @georgiagrl1990 @mindofthescattered  @dontstopxx @iamabeautifulperson18 @madelinecraig03 @ka-x-in @mesmericbell  @weirdpotato-14 @putinontheritzz @soulslaststand @fuckthatfeeling  @ember1201 @morganlb23 @tomhopperarms  @fakingintrest @artprincessbree  @dreamer-lover-laughter @artprincessbree @rime-warrior @captainvaneswife @kapolisradomthoughts @thingsandstuffienjoy @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @aya-fay  @itsbubbaog @hp-hogwartsexpress @emmykinzs @thatbadassunicorn @sassywingednightmare @weirdnewbie @goyawriter @shipperfangirling @nathaliabakes @stillreadingfantasy @waywardblueshun @give-jack-a-lightsaber @shipatheart @itsdesiree86 @coffeebooksandfandom​

[archivistsrock]

The Boys in the Band, pt. 2: The Performance

Someone asked for a spoilery review, so I’m going to go into detail here. Maybe a mix of review, plot, and specific cute/hot things that happen during the show. I don’t really consider anything in the show to be “spoilery”, but if you’re planning on seeing this and just love surprises and not knowing anything about what’s to come...don’t read this, I guess. ;) [eta: Okay, so it seems like it’s mostly plot overview with random other observations sprinkled in. I’m not good at this! Also, I go into much more detail about the first half...it’s funnier, has more Matt, and I just peetered out]

Also, read on if you want deets on just how much Matt we see during the shower scene… :P

The general plot of the play is that Michael (Jim Parsons) is holding a birthday party for his friend Harold (Zachary Quinto). The entire play takes place in Michael’s apartment. There is an upstairs (bedroom and bathroom) and a downstairs (living room, mostly). If your seats are really close to the front of the stage, there will be some parts of the upstairs that will be blocked from your view. But they’ve cleverly placed mirrors on the ceiling, so what you can’t see straight-on, you can see in reflections. It’s not a problem at all. I was in the second row and was really worried I’d be too close and have obstructed sightlines, but I LOVED IT. You’re so close to the actors; it’s pretty amazing. I wouldn’t change my seats if given the chance. I think if I was able to see it again, I’d like to have a mezzanine seat. But I wouldn’t give up my up-close seat for the world. It was awesome. For...reasons...if you’re near the front, I think being left of center is better than to the right. Just as a tip, if you haven’t bought tickets yet.

Donald (Matt Bomer) is Michael’s best friend from college. He moved out of the city because he couldn’t handle all the people and stresses of city life. Donald is depressed. Loves to read. Likes to chill on the sidelines and just watch other people. He’s very caring. I totally dig Donald. He’s...a janitor? and works hard, but also has issues with failure that he attributes to his parents. He equates failure with receiving love. He’s known he was gay since forever. He drives into the city each weekend to see his therapist and visit Michael. He knows the other men that are invited to the party, but he isn’t in their friend group. He knows them bc he knows Michael, iykwim. He and Harold don’t seem to particularly like each other. Maybe bc they’re both best friends of Michael so there’s some competition/protectiveness?? idk. Haven’t thought about it enough.

Michael lives beyond his means. He’s also pretty depressed and has issues with being gay. I mean, that’s a huge theme of the play. How these guys deal with living in a time and place where society clearly doesn’t support or approve of homosexuality. As many of the actors have said in interviews, it’s interesting to see the play and notice how much things have changed, but also how many things in the play still resonate today. Oh, I guess it’s important to point out that it takes place in 1968.

The play starts with Michael in his apartment getting ready for the party. His doorbell rings and Donald enters. ::raucous applause:: The next 15 minutes (I’m really bad with time, so don’t take too much stock in that) is Michael and Donald talking with one another about their parents, lives, etc. General banter of friends. Donald notices that Michael is not drinking alcohol and hasn’t been for the last few weeks. He can tell because Michael gets mean when he’s drunk (keep this in mind). Michael says his therapist encouraged him to lay off drinking bc it’s obviously becoming a problem for him.

It’s been a long day and Donald needs a shower. ::extremely raucous applause:: So Matt strips down to his undies and walks around a bit. Lays on a bed. Adjusts himself. Lots of this is only seen through the mirrors on the ceiling. Not sure about people in the mezzanine? They might be able to just see him laying there, idk. Then he wanders to the shower and strips...ALL THE WAY DOWN to shower. So yes. Not only do we see Matt’s ass, but we see his dick, too. Where I was sitting, I only saw it in reflections, but still. HEY THERE, MATT’S DICK! :P Whether or not other people in different seats see more or less of him, I’m not sure. This is why I say that the left is better than the right. The shower is on the right side of the stage, and there’s a sink/pedestal in front of the shower. So I think some people’s view of Matt in the shower is blocked by the sink? I was at enough of an angle where it wasn’t a problem. People were literally gasping. LOLOL.  The theater was definitely a-twitter. Lol. [random aside that I saw Angels in America during this trip, and in that play Lee Pace gets naked and just walks around the stage in the buff, so I guess it was my week for seeing ass and penis on stage? Lol]

Then he gets out and puts on a towel and walks around in that for a while, which is nice. Then he goes into the bedroom and changes and you can see him in his undies briefly (lol pun) again. So anyway, THAT HAPPENS. Lol

While Matt is showering and getting ready, Michael’s phone rings. It’s his old college roommate, Alan (Brian Hutchison) who’s having a breakdown of some sort and wants to come over and talk to Michael. The problem? Alan is straight (or is he??) and “square” and doesn’t know that Michael is gay.  Which is a problem bc a bunch of gay men are about to descend on Michael’s apt. Michael tells him to quickly come over with the hope that he will arrive and leave before too many people show up (lol right).  But honestly, who’s listening to Michael at this point bc OMG MATT IS NAKED. Seriously, I think I just stared at Matt for 95% of the show regardless of who was talking. Lol. It helped that I read the play beforehand and watched the movie so I knew what was going on.  ;)

So Michael tells Donald that Alan is coming over and warns him that Alan doesn’t know he’s gay so don’t act gay. Donald is mildly offended and has a funny line about sitting with his legs spread and talking in a deep register. Lol. But anyway, Jim and Matt are great together and you can really see their friendship (well, Michael and Donald’s friendship). They’re very funny together. The doorbell rings and we all think it’s going to be Alan, but it’s the first of the party guests – Larry (Andrew Rannells), Hank (Tuc Watkins), and Emory (Robin de Jesus). Hank and Larry are a couple (with issues). Emory is unapologetically flamboyant. He is hilarious. So Hank was married (he’s in the process of getting divorced) and has 2 kids. He’s the most stereotypically masculine of the group. He’s bi, “with a definite  lean in one direction” (hint: not chicks). He’s a math teacher. The oldest of the group. He’s dating Larry, who’s a bit of a man-whore (and a commercial artist). Larry doesn’t believe in monogamy, and this makes Hank sad. So this is a running issue between the two throughout the night. Andrew is hilarious in the play. He has GREAT facial expressions and reactions.

So Michael introduces everyone and it’s a bit awkward between Larry and Donald. Clearly, they have some sort of history (spoiler alert that’s pretty obvious: They “know” each other because they fucked in the baths once, but never spoke to one another. Yes, they enjoyed their fuck). Throughout the night, Larry is continuously coming on to Donald. Leaning into his space, stroking his arm, etc. It’s pretty great.

Doorbell rings again. Michael warns everyone about Alan and to PLEASE ACT STRAIGHT. Cue lots of hilarity with Emory who is just not into pretending to be butch. So he opens the door...and it’s not Alan. It’s Bernard (Michael B. Washington). Bernard is black (relevant to later parts of the play). He works at the library (a bookstore? Can’t recall which now). Anyway, he knows Donald bc he’s always supplying Donald with books. Lots of comments on how Donald reads a shit-ton. Bernard is besties with Emory.

More hilarity and banter ensues. There is a song and dance number (Donald does not participate, but Matt looks cute standing there and he does cute mini hand/arm motions). While they’re all dancing and being silly, the doorbell rings, but no one hears it but Hank, who goes to open the door and...it’s Alan. So he walks in on all the guys doing a choreographed dance. AWKWARD. Michael is all...”Uh...we’re just being silly!” haha. Yeah. More introductions. Emory is Emory and is pissing Michael off with his refusal to stop being camp. Alan takes to Hank because he’s the most traditionally masculine. Hank and Alan talk about their kids and Larry is getting increasingly pissed bc Hank is hiding the fact that he’s gay and with Larry (although they’re all—poorly-- hiding the fact that they’re gay). Michael goes upstairs to speak with Alan and what his breakdown/problem is.

So the action shifts to upstairs, but we can still see everyone downstairs. So they’re all acting like they’re at the party and are fake talking, etc. This is when Larry really gets into Donald’s space. He’s pissed at Hank because Hank are Alan were being all chummy. So he’s taking it out on Hank by being extra flirty with Donald. Donald isn’t really..opposed?...to it, but he’s maybe a little confused and awkward about it bc...hello?!? Hank is here? What even...? lol.

So upstairs, Alan decides he doesn’t want to talk about his issue and instead talks about how attractive Hank is. Lol. He also likes Donald. Alan’s been downing drinks (Donald is kind of the unofficial drink maker) and he’s drunk. Then he gets all homophobic and says shitty things about Emory. Michael gets a little pissed and goes downstairs while Alan stays upstairs in the bathroom.

Downstairs, the doorbell rings. Michael answers it, expecting it to be Harold (the birthday boy who is clearly very late). It’s a young studly guy dressed as a cowboy (Charlie Carver) who sings Happy Birthday to Michael and kisses him. Oops! Wrong guy! Cowboy is Emory’s gift to Harold. Harold was supposed to answer the door. But cowboy is early (you’re supposed to show up at midnight bc you’re a midnight cowboy!) and Harold is late, so...yeah. Didn’t work out. Then Alan comes downstairs and thinks Cowboy is Harold. Emory says, “No, he’s FOR Harold.” Alan is increasingly hostile and Emory is done with the fucking charades. Emory makes a comment about Alan’s wife, and Alan goes fucking berserk and starts punching Emory while calling him a bunch of gay slurs. Alan is pulled off Emory who is bleeding. Chaos is breaking out. The doorbell rings. Donald answers it and in walks Harold (Zach).

Harold is quite the character. He used to be a professional ice skater. He describes himself as an “ugly, pockmarked Jew fairy”.  He’s high. He’s very sardonic. He looks around and it’s like...WTF is happening? Lol. Alan is passed out on the floor. Emory has blood all over his face. Cowboy sings happy birthday to Harold, kisses him, then Harold reads the card tied to him and starts laughing hysterically.  (this technically ends the first act in the play, but there’s no intermission or anything so the action keeps going)

[Note Larry leaning into Donald’s space in the background]

Bernard and Emory go upstairs to clean up. Up until this point, the play has been really really funny. The general tone is pretty light and humorous. At this point, the tone starts to change dramatically. At some point, I don’t remember exactly when, this change is made blatantly clear by the lights going dim, and all the action on stage freezes, aside from Michael. He heads to the bar and pours and downs a drink. Remember what Donald said about Michael when he’s drunk? MEAN. So this marks the turning point. Light go back up, action resumes. [I’m not sure what I think about them doing it this way, but it hammers the point home that Michael is now drinking and things are about to get dark, so eh. Whatever. ] Michael gets increasingly asshole-ish. You really start to hate Michael.

Alan declares he’s going to puke, so Hank leads him upstairs to the bathroom. Michael and Harold exchange barbs. You really start to wonder why they’re friends. Every time Michael takes a drink, Harold proclaims, “Turning!” Like Donald, he knows alcohol turns Michael into an asshole. Michael is getting drunker and meaner and Harold is not one to just put up with things.  If something gets dished out, he’ll deal it right back ten-fold. But while brutally honest, he’s not being as downright cruel as Michael, who even starts throwing racist remarks at Bernard and cruel comments to Emory (which really horrifies Donald).

Alan comes downstairs and proclaims his intention to leave, and bizarrely announces that Hank should leave with him. This leads to the announcement that Hank and Larry and lovers, and basically the charade is up and hey! We’re all gay; and btw, we think you are too, Alan. Michael won’t let anyone leave and invents a “party game” for them all to play. Basically, you have to call someone that you’ve truly loved. You get different amounts of points for various things – if someone answers, you say who you are, you get the person on the line that you want to speak with, you tell them you love them. A total of 10 possible points. Donald and Harold are immediately like, YEAH NO. Not playing. So Bernard and Emory both call people. Does not turn out particularly well. I literally cried for Bernard. Michael B. Washington does a phenomenal job.

Hank and Larry have it out again, but they end up calling each other, saying they love each other, and going upstairs to have sex in Michael’s bedroom.

Michael starts harassing Alan and telling him he should call their other college roommate, Justin, that Michael is convinced Alan was in love with. He’s in total asshole mode. Alan dials a number and ends up telling the person he loves them. Michael grabs the phone assuming it’s Justin..it’s not. It’s his wife.

Alan leaves. The mood of the party has degenerated into a total morose atmosphere. Harold just goes off on Michael with a huge truth bomb about how self-loathing Michael is and how badly he doesn’t want to be gay, but guess what? You’re gay and you’ll always be gay. He then takes off with Cowboy. Emory and Bernard (who is super drunk by this point) then leave, and Michael has a breakdown. He basically starts hyperventilating and is comforted by Donald. He pulls himself together and leaves to go to a midnight mass. Donald stays behind to read a bit, after assuring Michael that he’ll be back next weekend. The play ends with Donald reading and the silhouette of Hank and Larry making love upstairs in bed.

So yeah, I was much more brief when it came to the second half, in part bc it’s not as much “fun.” It’s much more dramatic. Very good, but not as fun to retell, and as far as Matt goes, aside from the end scene, he kind of disappears in the second half. I mean, he’s physically present and had lines, but there is definitely more focus on the other characters. He kinda just hangs in the periphery watching everything go down. And silently flirting with Larry lol.

All the characters do a stellar job. Charlie Carver/The Cowboy has the smallest role. He’s basically a big dummy, and provides some comic relief with his idiocy and innocence.  Tuc (Hank) does a great job, but his role isn’t as humorous or flashy as the others. Michael B. Washington is great as Bernard, and I was really feeling for him at the end. He has a great monologue that delves into race and slurs. He and Emory have a touching moment. Robin de Jesus is hilarious as Emory. Jim does a good job as insecure Michael. Apparently, he wears special shoes during the show because of his broken foot. I would not have known anything was wrong with his foot. He’s pretty spry walking around that stage. He does a good job playing a mean asshole. Lol. Andrew has hilarious reactions and facial expressions. Zach is hilarious as Harold. Very sarcastic and kind of deadpan? He has a very interesting way of speaking. Harold is super weird, and Zach does a super job. He comes in late in the play, but has an integral part once he arrives. And I love Donald. His role is definitely not as flashy as some of the others, but I feel you really get to know and like Donald.

You laugh A LOT during the first half of the show. You still have funny moments in the second half, but it is also more shocking and dramatic. Pretty thought provoking. And thinking about the time period that this play takes place in (1968) and how tough it was to be out (or not out) at that time, and looking on stage at the all gay cast...it’s a pretty special feeling. They look like they probably have a blast on stage every night.

I happened to be there on Zach’s actual birthday, which was funny because it’s his character’s birthday in the play. When Matt opens the door and it’s Zach standing there, the first line Donald says is, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Harold.” He said it VERY pointedly and I was like !!!!!!!! So that was special. Oh! A Matt insta post:

If you aren’t going to be able to see it, you can watch the original movie. Obviously, it’s not as cool as seeing your faves in the role, but the original play, movie, and the revival are all very faithful to each other. Same dialogue and everything. The movie does add a few scenes at the beginning outside of Michael’s apartment, and some of the movie takes place outside on a balcony instead of all inside, but those are very minor details. I think they cut out a few lines of dialogue in the revival so they could cut down on the time, but offhand I don’t recall what they cut out. I’ll have to read the play again. So you’ll hear all the stuff that happens and all the funny lines and stuff that they say in the play. Then you can envision Matt in the role of Donald. I like Matt’s portrayal of Donald better than the original actor’s, but OBVIOUSLY I am biased. lol

[longsightmyth]

Chapter-by-Chapter, The Naming, Chapter 7

PELLINOR

Maerad wakes up the next day in the late afternoon and at first refuses to open her eyes because she’s warm and comfortable and doesn’t want to wake up from what she thinks is a dream. She remembers that it’s not a dream, though, and opens her eyes to a pretty sun-lit view out a window that is, for all purposes, her own.

She realizes Cadvan has been sitting across the room reading in a chair, having, we learn, taken over from Silvia because Silvia had duties to attend to. Since Cadvan has no duties currently, Silvia ordered him to sit with Maerad so she wouldn’t wake up alone in an unfamiliar place.

Can we note that Cadvan didn’t sit on the bed or even sit close to the bed, y’all? He knows Maerad is wary of dudes, and though she’s not that wary of Cadvan he still sat in a chair entirely across the room with a book. I shouldn’t have to point out basic decency but here we are.

He does cross the room to comfort her when she’s worried she’s been a lot of trouble, and reminds her that she isn’t trouble because bad things have happened to her.

“Every human being is worth the trouble of being cared for. No matter who they are. You have a gift, a special gift, so people are all the more interested.”

Maerad takes a moment to collect herself and says that Malgorn and Silvia and Cadvan are all very kind.

“I haven’t been especially kind,” said Cadvan wryly.

“You have been kind. You took me out of Gilman’s Cot. You didn’t have to.”

She worries again that she doesn’t belong and that she doesn’t know anything. Cadvan says that she will eventually know how she belongs, but she’s  only just arrived and things take time. He says that he belongs no particular place, either - music is his home, and he thinks it is hers too.

Maerad felt she couldn’t bear his understanding, and in a way preferred his brusqueness.

We learn that before Cadvan scried her a few chapters back, she hadn’t cried in years, not even when her mother or Mirlad died. “The world she lived in had been too harsh for tears.” She cries a little now, though not much.

Cadvan eventually leaves her so she can get dressed, saying he’ll be back in a few minutes to show her around if she’d like and they would stop by the kitchen for snacks. Maerad agrees, and when he leaves takes a moment to hold her lyre, and decides that Cadvan might have a point about music being home.

Then she starts experiencing a hella lot of pain, “as if claws had reached inside her and were pulling her apart.”

Look, some of y’all might think she’s being dramatic. I am here to tell you, as a sufferer from the devil cramps from hell,  Maerad is not being dramatic. That shit gets me sent home from work doubled over in pain, y’all. That shit has knocked me out (it’s better now that I’m older, thank goodness, and yes, I’ve had it checked out before anybody starts worrying).

Thus does Maerad start menstruating. She has my ENTIRE sympathy. The blood also freaks her out, since she can’t think of any injury she’s sustained that could do this.

She concentrated on breathing, as she did when she was beaten, to keep her mind off the pain, but it didn’t go away. She was sobbing with fright.

Cadvan knocks three times and receives no answer, so he opens the door and calls for her and notices that she’s curled up in a ball on the floor and also starts freaking out a bit. After ascertaining exactly what the problem isn’t, Cadvan clearly comes to the correct conclusion and asks her if this has happened before.  When she says no, he explains in broad strokes and tells her she isn’t cursed (she was worried). When she asks why it hurts so much if nothing’s wrong, he has to tell her he doesn’t know but knows that it just does sometimes.

He offers to go find Silvia, but Maerad aks him not to leave her so he waits until she feels a little better. When she does, he goes and obviously gets Silvia, since Silvia comes in before long with some painkillers and menstrual rags (PSA I love my diva cup the days of menstrual rags are really only like a generation behind us and dear holy god can you fucking imagine). Anyway, Silvia theorizes that Maerad’s body went ‘heeeeeey enough food for a few weeks, time to jumpstart this BULLSHIT’ (emphasis my own), and gives Maerad a little more info that sadly the book glosses over a little bit. Silvia says “It is dreadful that any girl should be kept in such ignorance of her own body” and honestly if Silvia had done nothing else cool in her life I’d love her for that sentence. SPREAD THE INFORMATION. EDUCATE THE PEOPLE.

Anyway, Silvia takes her to the kitchen and fits her out with snacks. Maerad tries salad with no dressing and likes it. Maerad and I are clearly different people. Silvia gives Maerad some more bard info and tells her about the Meet, and when she asks Maerad how she feels Maerad tells her that she, Maerad, is happy. I’d cry if I had a sliver more of a heart.

Silvia coaxes Maerad into talking a little bit more about her experiences, and Maerad mentions offhand that she was beaten.

“Were you beaten often?”

“Everyone was beaten. Even Gilman’s woman usually had a black eye,” Maerad said dismissively. “Me less than most. I pretended to be a witch.”

Silvia says that no one is beaten in Innail. To do so would be a crime. Maerad asks how they keep the peace, and Silvia tells her that she’s found that so long as people’s needs are met there are incredibly few who try to hurt other people or take from them. Those few have trials, and might have to repay someone they stole from or return what they stole or work for a family they hurt or provide weregild. At most they would be exiled, because Innail also doesn’t have prisons.

“If he is sick, or mad, as sometimes happens, he will be treated for his sickness.. The law is that the hungry must be fed, and the homeless must be housed, and the sick must be healed. That is the way of the Light.”

This is the future liberals want, y’all.

Silvia and Maerad discuss Cadvan a little bit, and Silvia says he’s hard to know well despite that fact that he’s a Truthteller (someone who basically makes other people want to tell the truth around him) and that he never really lies, which can make being around him uncomfortable.

“He is a difficult person to know well. Most bards are.”

This makes Maerad ask if Silvia is a bard, because she realizes that she doesn’t actually know. Silvia is, in fact, though she says she doesn’t do the legends and the mysteries and the magic so much. Silvia grows shit and knows basically everything about herblore and medicine.

I’m going to skim all the getting ready for the welcoming feast and stuff, but Maerad gets a super pretty dress and is told to bring her harp because bards.

When they get to the actual feast, Cadvan runs into a friend of his named Saliman.

[Maerad] saw with surprise one man with dark skin… Maerad bowed back, grateful for the formality, which smoothed her awkwardness. She had thought all people were fair-skinned like she was, and felt anew the scope of her ignorance.

Saliman is basically tied with Silvia for The Coolest later, by the way, but that’s spoiler-y.

Even bards are prejudiced dickfaces sometimes, we learn through the feast. Saliman is from Turbansk, one of the bard schools a ways south that is located in one of the more advanced nations amongst the seven (the other six don’t really get touched on much). They’re also the ones currently on the front lines fighting the Dark, which a lot of the northern schools dismiss.

Saliman also met Milana, Maerad’s mother, once, or at least he heard her play. She was a fine musician, he tells Maerad.

So Saliman sits with Maerad and Cadvan, and when he gets up to talk to someone else another bard (Helgar of Ettinor) comes over to talk to Maerad and grill her on her adventures. Cadvan rescues her after a bit by having her perform music with him, and when Maerad returns she notices that Helgar left when Saliman returned to his seat. Saliman says that ‘her friend’ distrusts southerners.

“Oh,” Maerad said. “Why?”

“There are not many like me so far north, so I am a curiosity.” Saliman spoke lightly, but Maerad saw a hardness in his eyes and a curl in his lip.

Silvia pops up to send Maerad to bed. She can’t sleep for a while, thinking of the evening,

and Silvia’s pearl-strewn dress, and the soft, lovely bloom of the tapers glancing off the pillars of that beautiful hall… but above all, Saliman’s dark face, angered by Helgar’s rudeness. Maerad’s skin prickled with some innate animal wariness when she thought of Helgar. “Not all bards are to be trusted,” Cadvan had told her, and now she thought she knew who he meant.

THRONE OF GLASS

We’re covering three chapters this time to have the same approximate percentage of the book involved.

Celaena is woken by Chaol and is a brat about getting up and doing things. If this sounds familiar, it’s because it is. This could be the one concrete aspect of Celaena’s character. There are lines about Chaol not showing if he notices how much skin Celaena is showing. Chaol asks why she’s so tired. She says she was up until four in the morning reading. Celaena complains that Chaol is mean to her. Chaol points out that she’s an assassin. Celaena complains some more. Chaol reminds her that the first Test (complete with Important Capitalization) is today. Celaena decides she isn’t actually hungry and goes to change, making sure to embarrass Chaol by taking her shirt of before she is fully into the bedroom. She comes back out complaining about the clothes she has to wear.

FInally they leave her rooms and go to the training room (?) where everything is nice and marble and there’s a mezzanine. Celaena has a tiff with Cain where he does elevator eyes to her and snarks that he thought she’d have left by now. Celaena does not question why she would have left if nothing has happened, but tells Chaol that she’s going to kill Cain. She can Chaol spar. She locks blades with his presumable longsword with the rapier she chooses off the walls after being snobby about killing people with swords vs killing people with a pickaxe. I despair. Chaol wins. I can’t decide if I should despair.

Chaol tells her to pick a different weapon and try to make it interesting. Celaena picks her old faves, two giant hunting knives.

My dear old friends.

A wicked smile spread across her face.

The chapter ends.

The next chapter (chapter 12, if you’re interested) starts with someone calling for their attention before she throws herself at Chaol. They take her knives. The weaponsmaster has them all go around and introduce themselves like they’re at a meet-and-greet for particularly violent single folks. I continue to despair, but here’s a list:

Cain, who introduces himself as a soldier in the king’s army from the Whitefang mountains.

Xavier Farrul, Master Thief of Melisande.

Six seasoned former soldiers, dishonorably discharged

Three other thieves, including Nox Owen, the vaguely good-looking guy from earlier

Bill Chastain, the eye-eater. He looks plain and eats the eyes of his victims. Apparently he told them that.

Ned Clement, called himself Scythe, used to hack apart temple priestesses with a scythe.

Two scarred, silent men theorized to be the cronies of a far off warlord.

Four assassins, including a gangly, hughty boy; a hulking brute; a disdainful runt of a man; and a sniveling, hawk-nosed prat who claimed he had an affinity for knives.

Grave, whose shackles weren’t removed without stern warning.

A partridge in a pear tree.

Got all that? Now forget it. None of it’s important except one dude aside from Cain, and he gets an exposition paragraph in book two because he’s so unmentioned in book one.

Celaena is mad that she has to pretend to be Lillian Gordaina from Bellhaven, rich merchant’s daughter moonlighting as a jewel thief. I don’t know why, it’s exactly as ridiculous as everything else.

The Test is an endurance run. Celaena makes sure to say in the middle the whole time and throws up a lot when she’s done. She needs a doctor.

Thus the second chapter ends.

Our final chapter for tonight starts with Celaena being released for lunch and a discussion of the merits of salmon. I despair.

A section break later Chaol walks into her room in the morning to find her doing pull ups. For some reason he is impressed: it seems like a basic workout routine for someone who is expected to be in shape to me, but idk, I hate exercise without immediate purpose.

It rains, so they don’t train, because nobody trains in the rain I guess they might mess up their hair. This is how Chaol and Celaena are strolling the palace halls and meet Princess Nehemia of Eyllwe.

Nehemia and Kaltain were smushed together for courtly stuff, presumably because Kaltain is the only woman of a similar age around. We never meet any others. Nehemia is displeased because she doesn’t like Kaltain, and is pleased that Celaena speaks Eyllwe, which is fair.

After Kaltain leaves, Nehemia asks where Celaena learned Eyllwe. Celaena says she knew an Eyllwe woman who taught her.

“A slave of yours?” [Nehemia’s] tone sharpened, and Chaol flicked his eyes toward them.

“No,” Celaena said hurriedly. “I don’t believe in keeping slaves.” Something twisted in her gut at the thought of all those slaves she’d left behind in Endovier, all those people doomed to suffer until they died. Just because she’d left Endovier didn’t mean Endovier ceased to be.

Nehemia says that Celaena is unlike the others of the court. They chat about why Nehemia is there (Nehemia says her father sent her), Celaena says she’s more of a book person than a hunter when Nehemia asks, and Nehemia says that Adarlan burned all the libraries and museums and universities. Celaena says Eyllwe isn’t the only place where that happened. Celaena complains about her corset. Celaena ruminates on not trusting other women, since they have all disappointed her, “especially girls with agenda and power of their own.”

She wonders if she’s wrong.

Later Chaol eyes her up in her rose and jade dressing gown and they diss Kaltain and discuss Chaol’s type. Chaol reflects that Celaena is dangerous and he’s not sure who would survive if the confrontation he’s worried is coming does indeed come. Say it with me: I despair.

COMPARISON

I just despair, y’all. I just do. I went from thoughtful discussion of racism (albeit in the form of White Girl Learns Because People are Mean to Her Black Friend, though at least Maerad has literally only just met Saliman and knows it’s bad to dislike him just because he has a different skin color. Also, Helgar’s racism is much more subtle than anything seen in Throne of Glass, which means people aren’t let off the hook because they aren’t ‘THAT bad’) to someone whining about clothes and murderers introducing themselves around tea and cakes played straight (incredibly straight).

Can we discuss the most milquetoast denial of slavery ever, though, while we’re here? “I don’t believe in slavery.” Tough cookies, it’s happening right in front of your face. You better believe in it. Why can’t Celaena just say “No, I don’t keep slaves. Nobody should keep slaves. Slavery is wrong.”

“I don’t believe in slavery” bite me.

Also, witness Celaena thinking about the mass of nameless faceless slaves in Endovier. Look, if you want to play the ‘nobody learned names’ thing, okay, sure. I’ll roll with it. “Something twisted in her gut when she thought of the people she’d left behind - the woman who always hummed at night, soothing them all to sleep, the girl Celaena had helped up when she tripped in line, the man who always coughed just when you wanted to sleep, even the man who always tried to steal her rations. She’d left them, and they might already be dead. Just because she was taken from Endovier didn’t mean Endovier stopped killing.”

Slaves are people. Talking about people in a faceless block is dehumanizing, especially when your character is supposed to have known these people and lived this life and now is supposed to be the hope of the trodden down and the understander of their plight. Stop it.

Still no wondering about the palace servants’ freedom or lack thereof.

That’s all I’ve got tonight, I’m super tired and my thoughts crept into the summaries a lot already anyway. Feel free to comment with aspects I’ve missed, I like learning things and talking.