#also ive never been to a festival by myself before | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dari-ede · 1 year

Text

Sights on Each Other: Part III

Laughter and Tears in Life

I - II - III - IV

Masterlist

Summary: Hoseok always wanted to live out his Fast and Furious fantasy—or at the very least get a taste of it on the track. He finally gets his chance. He learns how to properly drive on the racetrack with the help of a gifted individual. Too bad his instructor finds himself falling for the young idol. Follow J-Hope as he learns a new craft and helps a complete stranger discover something deep within himself. (NO smut. This story is about a friendship and one-sided attraction—narrator.)

Pairing: J-Hope x Male Reader (friendship only)

Rating: M (mature themes such as sexual awakening, depression)

Status: Complete

***************

2022

The place was packed. It had been my third year working here and I had never seen it so full. Sure, COVID had kept things small, but there was no denying that J-Hope’s presence at the festival was the cause of such a crowd.

Security was also very tight, so there was almost no opportunity for me to get close to him. Not that he was close enough for me to even call out to him. There were always a few dozen feet that separated us.

Before the start of the show, I had even gotten a glimpse of Maya and Jimin. I wasn’t active much on social media but I wasn’t clueless enough to have missed the news that these two had arrived for the event.

A part of me wondered if Maya would recognize me. However, she too was far away.

Feeling down that I hadn’t gotten the chance to at least catch their attention, I tried to focus on the event itself—and my job.

Some of the acts had done a good job, but most people were here for one guy—like I was.

And finally, the last artist before J-Hope finished. It was time to transition for his show. The moment was close.

However, as I made my way to my spot, I was held back by someone.

“Zee?” asked the person with their hand on my shoulder.

I turned to them and noticed it was a young, petite Asian woman with a slight accent. I had never noticed her before. But she had a lanyard around her neck like the majority of the staff and several wristbands. She must be one of the higher-ups because she wasn’t wearing the uniform. “Yes?” I asked.

She smiled. “Would you please come with me? It’ll only be a second.”

“Is everything alright?” I asked. We were told not to leave our posts.

“Yes. I’ve spoken to your supervisor already. I just need your assistance with something. It’ll be quick.”

I was confused but decided to follow.

I hoped it would be quick. I didn’t want to miss the show. Sure there was plenty of time left, but I didn’t want to risk it.

***********

2014

The next day I entered some old building in the city. I was quite surprised that I had arrived at the right place. Considering that J-Hope had said he was in some group, I would think his company would get him a decent place to work in. Surely, his label was able to afford a better place than some downtown sketchy area. It wasn’t a place that seemed safe after hours.

Suddenly, I found myself worried and hoping he wasn’t made to stay to practice in such a place well into the night. LA wasn’t as bad as the media made it out to be but one still had to be cautious in certain areas.

I sent Maya a text telling her I was outside. She must have been on a break because she immediately answered.

She was one of J-Hope’s and his group’s dance instructors during their stay; that’s how they had met. It was odd that Maya had taken a side job of the sort seeing that her stardom was really taking off. She had her career now she could focus on. However, she had mentioned she had taken on the instructor position as a favor for someone. Plus, it was a good business plan for her own girl group. J-Hope’s group was filming their practices and show, so Maya would be getting exposure overseas for her group. It was smart, honestly.

Just as I entered the building and made my way into the hall, I was greeted by Maya jogging my way.

“You can get lost here easily,” she said as she got to me. “Plus, there’s a guy in the staff who’s kind of an ass. I can see him giving you trouble and attitude if you get to us alone.”

I gave a slight nod, understanding. “You guys on break?”

“Yeah. Just for a bit. Gonna practice for another two hours and then we’re gonna catch lunch. Hopefully. If Mr. Asshole lets them.”

“Mr. Asshole?” I asked, confused.

She rolled her eyes. “The staff is overall really kind. But there’s one or two of them that are extremely strict. I’d like to tell you the details but we’re about to arrive,” she said as she slowed her walk as we got to a turn.

I looked up and took the turn with her. Upon turning, there were two Asian men sitting outside a door, looking at us skeptically.

Maya muttered something to them.

One of the men nodded but the other kept his eyes on me. I swear if looks could kill….

Pretending as if nothing was wrong, Maya made her way past them and opened the door. She held it for me and waited for me to enter first. As I took a few steps in, we exchanged a look. I guess I had just met Mr. Asshole.

Once inside the room, I could see people scattered in little groups throughout the room. There were cameramen, young girls chatting in the corner, some guys in the middle of the room dancing, and others off in a corner goofing off.

My eyes seem to immediately scout and spot J-Hope. He was among the group off in the corner. Without even thinking, my voice just took over. “J-Hoooooope!”

J-Hope’s neck snapped towards me, his eyes wide with concern. The frightened look on his face didn’t last. Upon seeing it was me, that bright smile took over.

Letting out a booming laugh, he made his way over to me. “Zee!”

After giving dap and slapping each other on the back, I noticed Jimin and Suga had come over as well. Greeting the pair of them in a similar fashion, J-Hope called over the rest of his group mates.

I met the broad-shoulder guy with too much eye-liner, Jin, the leader of the group—whatever that meant—who was tall and a little lanky, Rapmon, the little kid with the deep voice, V, and the youngest of them, Jungkook. They all were all smiles and seemed excited and eager when the end of their break was called. Hell, if it was me, I would have looked crabby.

As the guys continued with practice, I sat against the wall and watched.

I was surprised by how good they were. Not all of them seemed like natural dancers but there was no denying they all equally cared to perfect the job.

But in spite of their working hard, they also seemed to be playful. At one point, the kid with the deep voice—V—made a mistake and stepped on Jimin. The pair of them started to “fight” about it. The rest of the guys paid their bickering no mind but the youngest of them kept laughing at their banter.

I quickly took notice how Jimin kept physically close to some of the other guys. It wasn’t just J-Hope that he seemed touchy with. Also, I took note how some of the other guys acted in a similar fashion to Jimin—there was close contact and back hugs. Maybe it was the culture.

Maybe J-Hope and Jimin weren’t romantically involved.

My heart made a flutter at this thought.

Doing my best to stay focused on the guys’ dancing, I tried to squash these emotions down.

For the next couple of hours, I watched practice without getting the slightest bit bored. J-Hope sent me a lot of smiles and laughs. We exchanged a few words but mostly, I let him work.

Maya had stated practice was soon going to be over; however, a guy walked into the room and the whole mood seemed to change. It was Mr. Asshole.

The guys grew quiet. There was no more laughter.

Maya’s facial features altered as well. She suddenly had a resting bitch face.

“Ok, guys. One last time and then we can call it a day,” she said pretty loudly. Then said some words in Korean.

The cameras followed her as she got into position in front of the guys. The crew looked excited that the day was finally going to be over.

Mr. Asshole said something out loud.

I didn’t understand but judging by everyone's faces and groans, I reasoned whatever he said wasn’t good.

Maya placed her hands on her hips and responded back in Korean.

The man ignored her and we left the room.

She looked ready to punch someone.

J-Hope reached over to her and muttered something. “It’s ok,” I heard him say gently.

Taking a deep breath, she gave a nod. Turning to me, she gave a short description of what had just occurred. Their manager, Mr. Asshole, was wanting the guys to continue practicing.

For the next hour, the guys continued their work.

I started noticing a change with them, though. Their energy was clearly dropping. And some of the guys didn’t look too hot.

Maya called for a small break, holding V and leading him over to where the water was.

J-Hope walked over to where I was. I handed him a bottle of water. “You ok, man?”

He nodded and gladly took the water. He was out of breath but looked ok.

The same couldn’t be said about the rest of the guys, though. Even the staff looked to be a bit overworked. Although all they were doing was waiting, I had to remember that I had been here for well over three hours and none of them had eaten much. It was pushing past five already.

A bit later, Maya seemed to make a call. She spoke to one of the other staff present and they agreed the guys had gotten enough practice.

“Let’s go,” Maya told the guys. “Time to eat.”

V looked more than happy.

Some of the guys exchanged a look of worry, almost as if they wanted to get the ok from someone else.

One of the staff stepped in and said something to them, a smile on her face. She seemed more pleasant than Mr. Asshole.

“What’s happening?” I asked Maya as the staff spoke to Rapmon and J-Hope.

“Nothing. They practiced enough. Mr. Asshole stepped outside a while ago and we’re not sure when he’s gonna be back. One of the staff tried reaching him but he’s not answering. I think it’s good that we stop. They’ve practiced enough but they don’t seem to go unless Mr. Asshole says it’s ok.” Maya didn’t seem at all happy saying this. “Hopefully, this staff member is able to convince them to leave.”

A few minutes later, the guys finally gave in but didn’t seem happy about it.

I took the lead to show them where I was parked. J-Hope was right next to me.

We made our way over to my car and I took out my keys. “Wanna drive?” I asked a smiling J-Hope.

However, before he could answer a yell from behind us made us stop and turn around.

Mr. Asshole was making his way toward us.

Suddenly, I saw seven tall males turn into little children. All of their necks bowed down as Mr. Asshole seemed to scold them.

Maya stepped in between, though, keeping him from getting close to the guys. She said something quick in Korean—almost with a matter-of-fact tone. Then she turned away from him and pushed the guys towards our cars.

“We’ll bring them back by 11,” Maya said as she made eye contact with me, shoving Jungkook in front of her.

I was quick to notice how she kept her hands on the young one’s shoulders, keeping him from turning around towards the manager. A look of slight worry washed over Jungkook’s face.

A little confused as to what was happening, I opened my mouth to say something but then the guy yelled out something in Korean.

I wasn’t fluent in the language, but the tone made it clear he was unhappy and looked absolutely pissed at Maya.

Before I could even think to react, Maya turned to the fool. Her face also didn’t look so thrilled and while she kept her voice at an even volume, the tone she carried was stern and icy. She wasn’t to be messed with.

I couldn’t understand a word she was saying but by the looks coming out of the guys, she was saying something pretty ballsy.

Not waiting for a response, she turned back around and muttered something to Jungkook. She pushed him forward again.

Jungkook followed instructions and allowed her to maneuver him to the car. At his side, V was being handled as well. Maya managed to take hold of his shirt and drag him along.

I made my way over to my car, catching J-Hope’s eyes, which were wide with shock by what had occurred.

“Zee, you drive this time. I got V, Jungkook, Jimin, and Suga. Take J-Hope, Rapmon, and Jin.” Maya had a look and demeanor about her that I could not describe better than a mama bear.

I wasn’t about to be stupid enough to question her, so I made my way over to the driver’s side, telling J-Hope, Rapmon, and Jin to get into the car with me.

We wasted no time. Maya didn’t even wait for the guys in her car to buckle up. The moment all the doors were closed in her car, she drove off. I followed suit.

After checking the rearview mirror to ensure we weren’t being followed, I finally spoke up. “What happened back there?” I asked, turning slightly to J-Hope.

Stuttering for a moment as he tried to explain to me, J-Hope finally turned back to Rapmon. The two exchanged some words in Korean before Rapmon finally spoke up.

“Our manager wanted us to continue practice. Maya was just reminding him that we hadn’t eaten since morning. She was telling him we had to eat,” said Rapmon.

I filled everything in my head as I thought back to the day. Maya had mentioned that practice was supposed to only be another 2 hours when I arrived. However, the guys were pushing close to 4. Suddenly, I remembered how faint V looked and how off-color Jungkook appeared as well. Her mama-bear attitude made sense.

“She’s looking after you guys,” I said out loud. “She’s right—you need to eat.”

They didn’t agree with me, but they also visibly didn’t disagree. They stayed quiet.

A thought came to my head. “Will you guys get in trouble?” I asked, feeling concerned.

Rapmon spoke up. “No. He will probably forget. He was only in town today. He’s not coming back until the day of the concert. He might have forgotten by then. But Sejin will be there. He keeps things calm.”

There was an uncomfortable silence in the car for a good while. There were so many questions lingering in my head—concerns I had about their well-being. However, I kept my questions to myself. I didn’t know the guys well enough to ask such personal questions. I wasn’t like Maya who seemed to have immediately inserted herself in the guys’ business—in a good way. But that was Maya. She was a spitfire and not one to shy away from anything.

It wasn’t surprising that over the years she had stayed close to the guys. There was a famous clip on the internet of her calling some DJs who were saying grotesque words about the guys. It was right around the time when they started to get popular in the States. Many people in the media had been disrespectful towards the group. In the beginning, Maya seemed to never miss an opportunity to publicly snap back at anyone who mistreated the guys. She had swept the floor with the DJs and had brought down their popularity after she exposed them.

I wish I could have seen the future during that awkward drive with J-Hope, Rapmon, and Jin. I was concerned about their well-being: afraid their manager would make their life hell later. But I shouldn’t have worried. Later on, through fan forums, I learned this manager had been fired.

A while later, we arrived at the beach. I had followed Maya, not knowing where we would be going. However, after getting to the parking lot, I knew exactly where we would be eating.

“My treat,” Maya said as she headed to the small restaurant.

We all followed and ordered together.

Taking the largest table, I was grateful that the place was mostly empty. Fitting 9 people would have taken too long.

My eyes glazed over to the ocean view. While I lived in close proximity to the beach, I hardly ever visited. I turned to J-Hope who was sitting next to me. “How’s the water in Korea?”

He didn’t understand.

“Temperature. Water. Cold? Hot?” I asked as I motioned to the beach. “Beach?”

His face became clear. “Oh. Cold.”

“Have you been to the beach here yet?” Once again, he looked confused. I really needed to only use simple words. I tried again. “You touch this beach?”

“Yes! Touch before,” he answered.

“We went to the beach a few days ago,” Maya explained. “They say the water is a lot warmer here than there.”

“You like?” I asked J-Hope, holding a thumbs up.

He nodded happily and gave me a thumbs-up.

“Wanna go?” I asked J-Hope, motioning to the beach.

“Yeah!” A bright smile came across his face. He turned to his members and spoke to them in Korean.

They all shook their heads and gave their excuses.

Maya laughed at something V said. She must have noticed my face. “He’s afraid if he goes, some of the guys will eat his food.”

“One will eat,” Jin muttered as he eyed Rapmon.

Rapmon looked a bit embarrassed and ducked his head.

Suga pointed to the leader and said something in between laughter.

“Jinjja?!” Maya exclaimed. It was one of the few phrases I had picked up on.

Rapmon didn’t say a word but gave a small smile.

Maya met my gaze. “Apparently there’s a story about Rapmon eating people’s food. I’ll get the whole story and tell you later.”

Giving a nod, I turned towards the beach and motioned J-Hope. “Come on. Let’s enjoy the view.”

J-Hope understood and followed.

We reached a spot on the beach with no people around. Again, the weekday kept the crowd at a minimum.

For several minutes we communicated using simple words. It was fun and entertaining. But eventually, we got to a topic I wasn’t too happy to have.

“Scar? How?” J-Hope asked, motioning to my cheek.

Not many people asked about it; I imagined it was because they were afraid of my answer. I had always been aware of how intimidating I could come across, especially with the brutal scar on my face. Secretly, I preferred when people didn’t ask.

“I was a kid,” I muttered, looking away from him, hoping that was enough.

“Oh. Kid? Young?”

I nodded.

“Age?”

A sense of boiling began to linger in my skin, my stomach producing knots. “8.”

“How?”

I shook my head and looked away, not wanting him to see or sense my anger.

My past was something I never liked talking about. Other than the people that were present when my scar took place, not a single soul knew the origins of my mutilation. And I believed at the time that it would always be that way.

The pair of us didn’t say a word for a good while. We stayed sitting in silence for a good moment. For the first time, I was hoping one of our friends would come over and interrupt us.

I looked out towards our friends, all still too far away. I was getting ready to just get up and suggest we head to them instead of waiting.

But that’s when J-Hope finally decided to cut the silence. And he didn’t speak English. He was talking in Korean.

At first, I thought he hadn’t noticed what he was doing, but when I caught the look on his face, I suddenly understood what was happening.

While I had known J-Hope for less than 48 hours, his face usually radiated with happiness. He never went too long without showing off his pearly whites. This time, though, there was a frown on his face as he spoke passionately in his native tongue.

I recalled earlier in the day—his practice with his members. How exhausted he had looked. Maya mentioned how they had a very tight schedule with little to no free time. Their manager, Mr. Asshole, making demands of them. All the while, J-Hope had kept his cool. As I understood it, he was one of the older ones and a leader—it made sense why he was putting up a front that everything was ok. However, deep down I wondered if everything was ok.

As he passionately spoke with a frown on his face, I was certain that he was venting. I might not know Korean, but he needed to let it out. What better person to let out his frustrations than a person who wouldn’t know what he was saying?

For a few minutes, he spoke without taking too many breaths. Maybe for the umpteenth time, I wished I knew Korean and vowed to learn it as soon as possible. Finally, when it looked like he was satisfied, he took a breath. It took a long moment for the frown to leave his face.

Then, he turned to me pointed to my scar, and said, “You turn.”

I felt like I was going to break down at that moment. In the next several years, I often wondered if J-Hope had decided to vent first so I was able to do so. Was there something written on my face that day that he immediately picked up on? Was there something that told him I was going through a rough time and somehow it tied to my scar?

I’ve never truly known J-Hope’s need to have opened up to me that night but I was grateful. For the next few minutes, I explained how I got my scar. It felt liberating, honestly. Like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I caught myself about to cry a few times but I managed to hold it in.

Feeling I couldn’t continue speaking on the subject, I stopped. I knew if I went on, I would have had a meltdown. And this was not the place to do it. My friends would notice and ask. And I didn’t want them to ask. I was only telling J-Hope because he couldn’t understand me.

A long moment later, J-Hope placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled sweetly.

The urge to lean over and know how those lips tasted ran through my body.

Did he feel the same?

Before my dumbass could do anything idiotic, I heard my phone buzz. Snapping myself out of it, I reached for it and noticed Maya’s number.

“What’s up?”

“Food’s ready. Hurry. We’re starving,” Maya said from the other end.

I hung up and relayed the message to J-Hope.

He quickly got up and we headed back to the restaurant.

The nine of us enjoyed the meal together. While we ate, I noticed how some of the guys were extra playful and communicative with Maya. V was especially chatty with her, a light in his eyes as he looked at her and didn’t seem to stop smiling at her.

It didn’t seem like a crush but looked more like a wandering gaze a small sibling gave an older sibling they admired. Maya used to have a similar look in her eyes when she stared at her brothers when she was younger.

Once our bellies were full, we made our way to our vehicles again.

“Tracks?” J-Hope asked with a big smile, getting into the passenger seat.

I laughed and turned to Maya.

She nodded.

“Oh, yes,” J-Hope said excitedly.

It didn’t take long to arrive and we didn’t have much time to spend there. However, J-Hope made the best of it.

The moment we arrived, he didn’t hesitate to get behind my wheel and do numerous laps around the tracks. We all applauded his technique. He was quite good.

I kept cheering the loudest, clapping and calling out his name. Suga found it especially entertaining in the way I called out J-Hope’s name.

“J-Hoooooooooope,” he mimicked me, putting his first in the air.

Everyone burst out in laughter, most especially me.

************

I - II - III - IV

Masterlist

#J-Hope #bts fanfic #J-Hope x reader #J-Hope x male reader #friendship #Idol!J-Hope #hoseok fanfic #Sights on Each Other #lgbtq #discovery

18 notes · View notes

stedebonnit · 2 years

Note

sunshine ❤️ but also noodle for the angst in joy's DMs 💀

LMAOOOO meow youre amazing.

And because i love you Ill share the angst from yesterday that I was talking about in Joys (@wearfinethingsalltoowell ) DMs 😈

Stede loves birthdays, but not his own. Hes never had a good birthday. His father wanted him to do something that a "real man" would on his birthday. Lots of tearful hunting trips as Stede flinched at the loud shots and cried at the sight and smell of dead animals.

At boarding school, his birthdays were either lonely, or purposefully hurtful. Fake surprise parties that ended with Stede getting cake or pie thrown in his face, planned events that no one showed up to, and so on.

With Mary, Stede mostly stopped trying. He did try, once, to plan a small get together with their neighbours. Everyone forgot, and Stede was left alone at the table, all dressed up, a cake to himself. Mary apologized of course, but Stede never planned a birthday for himself again.

That said, his loves for birthdays never stopped. Stede planned events for Mary and the kids every year. Birthdays were what he and Mary bonded over the most. He bought Mary her first painting set (even if he promptly forgot about it and asked her months later when she decided to purchase painting materials).

Stede was never terribly observant, except when it came to birthdays. He always knew exactly what to get Mary or the kids, how to plan an unforgettable event. He had never been good with anniversary gifts, but birthdays just felt different.

When he left for the sea, his crews birthdays became a centrepoint. A few members didnt remember or know their birthdays, so Stede assigned them, and made parties no one ever forgot. Even for Izzy, Stede would plan an extra bloody raid, and have Ed suggest it because he knew Izzy wouldnt agree if it came from him.

Stedes 40th birthday happened back home, sat alone at the table across from a petrified orange. "How was your day, Edward? Mine? Oh, its my birthday. I suppose I'm not surprised that its just us, here. Ive never had a birthday was wasnt terribly lonely. Though, i suppose there's no one to blame this year but myself."

The next year, Ed and Stede have reunited. Every single birthday on the Revenge has been celebrated with festivities that no one could beat. Eds own birthday was a beautiful dinner party. Fancy dress code, but with none of the rules of high society. They ate cake with the lobster spoons, just because they could. Stede taught Ed the Waltz, and they danced all through the night. Stede never laughed or smiled as big as he did that night, watching Edward unwrap the silk poets blouse with a leather vest, handmade by one of the finest vendors Stede could find. It became a regular staple of Edwards wardrobe.

When Stedes birthday rolled around, he kept it quiet. He'd never had a good birthday, and honestly he didnt want to bring the crew down with his sour birthday memories. Instead of celebrating, Stede decided he would stop at port on his birthday for a spot of shopping. He could buy himself a trinket, and allow himself some extra sweets after dinner. Truthfully, a birthday where he isnt alone would make this one better than any he'd had before, and for Stede that would be enough.

Its a day before his birthday when Charles shows up. Hes another one of Edwards rowdy pirate friends from back in the day, and he's strikingly similar to Jack.

Stede grits his teeth and endures the passive aggressive taunts, the loud noises through the night, the non-stop drinking. He decides he doesn't care if his birthday is terrible. He just wants to survive it this year without breaking down, something hes done more times than he can count.

Even this goal is left unmet when Charles stumbles drunkenly over to Stede on the beach that afternoon, slamming into him. He loses his footing and falls unceremoniously into the passing wave, his trousers becoming caked with wet sand. When he rights himself, Charles is laughing.

"Heh. Oops. Didnt see you there. Guess youre easy to miss. Blackbeard hasnt even noticed you all night. I bet its-"

He stops, not because anyone makes him, but because suddenly Charles is gagging and throwing up, the vomit spraying down Stedes front.

Stede feels the tears gathering, then.

"Oops. My bad. Want me to push you back in the water to clean it?"

Stedes voice wavers as he says

"No. Thank you. I think ill just head back to the ship."

He does, and as soon as the door shuts behind him, the tears start falling.

#ask #blakbonnet #i can write a resolution if you want #joy and me talked about it LOl #but it was already getting long #enjoy your pain

14 notes · View notes

elbowreveal · 2 years

Note

What are your favourite videos by techno?

For me it would probably be "skeppy tries to troll me but I troll him first", minecraft ultimate (both the video and the stream) and mcm(the weeks with Phil and jschlatt)

oh i love this question i am going to make you a List <3

first off i must preface this with the usual: statistically, i have not really seen the majority of his videos. i only subscribed in late 2020, and had been skirting youtube recommending his channel to me for 18 months before that (i was absolutely terrified of him despite having watched many hours of SMPE streams [and before that, mcm clips]. i think i was more afraid of hypixel tbh. i was still learning the vanilla game at that point for crying out loud.). Last spring i planned on backwatching everything i'd missed in a semblance of order, but then he privated half of his uploads, so i never got around to it because i would have done it Wrong. So, for what i Have seen:

firstly i agree so much with MCU 36k and MCM wk10. comfort vid/vods for sure. ive seen those many, many times!!

there was a period of time where i was utterly obsessed with the tnt video. id watch it several times a week and like, liveblog it on discord every time. same with the original 2 VR vids, the red festival, and the 1mil sub special vid but to a lesser degree.

of course ive seen the potato war, but ive also sat down for the 2 or so hours it takes to watch the entire skyblock series back to front. a highlight from this series is fastest man in skyblock, tho its been a bit since ive seen it.

the tree, free history lesson, youtube sent me a thing, mccp21, and the smpe villager stream are all great.

as for DSMP, i have rewatched nothing goes wrong and green festival/doomsday multiple times. nothing goes wrong has given me some of the strongest brainrot about any media since i saw cars (2006) in theatres when i was 7. i was literally uncontrollably shaking during both. bravo, minecraft man!

ok, i just looked, i cant list all of the dsmp streams as some more of my favs because i Will. the moving stream, the turtle stream... the egg,,, the first prison breakout... yeah.

i had such a sixth sense for technostreams. when he didnt announce stuff i would get this Feeling. so id pop into discord and say 'technos prob gonna stream friday' and then id be right, every damn time. it was uncanny.

i havent sat down to watch any of his stuff in a few months now, but i suspect ill get back to it soon, maybe by years-end. i started backwatching all of his MCM and MCC perspectives sometime last winter, ive got to finish those also.

alright, going to cut myself off bc ill get sappy. i KNOW i forgot some vids too and i cant remember and its driving me nuts. oh yes, agree on the skeppy vid too like you said.

technoblade<333333333

#ask #dimittrikovk #reply

9 notes · View notes

jlonejacketwthe30out · 1 year

Text

HYBRID FORMS

this project was a study in form and shape and their link to designs. we looked at a bunch of packaging for this. i made a gift box shaped like a hexagon. pretty fun stuff. it did practically break though. lets get intew ittttt 🤗

to begin, i needed an audience. if you didn't feel like making your own, three were provided to choose from! 1 being a student who recently graduated, 2 being a business person who commutes often and 3 - a new parent. i chose the new parent because,,, baby❤️

attended a guest lecture; notes from aforementioned guest lecture. the first half really deconstructed the creative process behind packaging design; really cool. the second half explored how the presentation of art/ a design can enhance it; also really cool!

notes & ideas! i was settling on something skincare ish. but i needed to remind myself that my target demographic was a new parent; not the new parent's baby!

standing in the sainsburys baby isle to check out the ~current market~. coincidentally, sun care items were right next to the baby things, which was an idea i was also juggling. i looked at both of these items' packaging designs and tried pinpointing how they appealed to their respective audiences.

back in the classroom, we were experimenting with shape nets! the point of this was to see how designs were impacted by the surfaces they're being presented on. the task was to draw on the nets before and after forming the shapes; taking the differences into account and how this knowledge should impact our idea development and outcomes.

ideas development LETS GOOOOOOOOO so i was inspired to make a gift set like the festive ones sold at The Body Shop; the material of them is soooo nice and i loved the streamlined, structured fit of the boxes. because my products were family oriented, i wanted my outcome to sort of look like a house.

here i am playing with more complex shape nets; watch that hexagon one. i did more w the hexagon.

trying to make a 'roof' for the 'house' - a hexagon based pyramid for my hexagonal prism (ive never been good at maths so the geometry element of this project got me so bad.... but more on that later😓)

the next day i decided to make a BIG hexagonal prism net - my grade 4 gcse maths was NOT coming in clutch to any degree but i got there in the end.

i continued to made another big net at home, this time for the lid of my box - of you look closely you can see i tried to make t a tiny bit bigger that the one i already had but erm... 😂

[30 PICTURE PER POST LIMIT? GUESS I GOTTA DO A PART 2... 🚶🏾]

#ual #lcc #creative process

2 notes · View notes

ibolyafagyi · 2 years

Text

also crying cuz why didnt i submit my student film to that first film anim festival? a year and a half ago. suddenly my distrust in my own work is so painful. i havent drawn anything that i felt had weight since i finished tech school. i simply did not do anything with it bc i was afraid of adulthood. i even stopped ani altogether and focused instead of painting, partly to not even think about the opportunities that im throwing out the window.

ive had so little appreciation for my stuff in the context of communities and other people... i wish i pushed more. i wish i wish i wish. i wish i had people. its so hard. its no wonder its all so hard like this. its no wonder i feel stupid and empty and useless and cant draw even like i used to, let alone improve my stuff. cuz thats whats happening, ive kept waiting for my breakthrough and level up but this time its different, i just dont have any fuel left for making anything.

and im already thinking about how im gonna throw away my uni degree after im done with it, the very thing ive been working hard on since my last boat jump (and will for another 1,5 yrs). i do anything for a year or 2 at school and then im just tired of it. why are you like this! trying so hard and burning out so early. just before you would have any real rewards for your efforts.

i already feel this familiar emptiness, that okay i can understand and translate this text, i can read the literature and write an essay (/i can draw shit), im even good at it, but whats all this good for? its useless bc its me, im useless bc ill never do anything w this skill that im in the process of training. training for so long everyday w the expectation to do good, bc this is my purpose this is my "job" to do right now, but inside my motivation is withering away bc im giving up on using that skill bc i dont trust i can be an adult and do things in real life for real. of course i feel like shit. and my opportunities slip by bc i dont care enough for myself and my skills and values to grab them.

is it cuz everything is so easy for me and i dont ever have to do anything? i dont have to worry abt budgeting and groceries and cooking and cleaning and i have just abt no obligations or responsibilities for anything, anyone, not even myself. outside of doing good at school. i have no weight in this life. im overworrying bc i have no weight to comfortably push me down.

#i just wanna feel useful and independent

0 notes

pixelddump · 2 years

Note

Hello! ^^ Just wanted to ask if you have any tips on starting a fun gameplay? Ive tried so many times cause I just wanna play the game for once (which I haven’t in years) but fails and lose the motivation completely, probably because I like to build my own houses and decorate and it can take days or weeks, so when i’m done with the house I don’t wanna play anymore.. I know i could just download a house that already has everything, but i’m having a hard time letting go of all my favorite decor cc and that I want things to look as pretty as it can.. perfect you know. Its hard to just be satisfied with EA things and having it basic when i wanna clutter everything and use cc in the whole house lol.. I also HATE indoor pictures, they never look good to me so I wanna always take my gameplay pictures outside but it only goes so far you know until you run out of things to do outside. Sorry for this long message! Thank you so much!!!

Heyyy, ahh no worries at all about the long message. I definitely feel this, it's something I've struggled with time and again with gameplay saves and the game by itself can be so lackluster in terms of content compared to what the previous games have been like so it's harder but here's some tips I have so far:

Just start. When you first start the game off, it can feel quite boring cause there's just one sim and you're constantly monitoring everything they do, I feel like you just need to persevere, even if you feel like quitting, just push through. Turn autonomy on and just let them do as they please.

Make your sims do any and every activity possible if they're just sat around. When you're feeling bored with just the mundane day to day stuff - if there's a festival, go to it, if there's a talent show, go to it, if there's a fair, go to it. It takes your sims out of the house and into the world which adds another dimension to it.

This one might be controversial, idk? but don’t be afraid to cheat (in moderation). If your household needs more money, motherlode. If they got up too late and can’t eat breakfast before going to school/work, drag their needs back to green (I use the UI cheats mod to do this). This is especially useful when you have bigger families.

Again, take your sim out of the house, go to the beach, go camping, go to selvadora or mt komorebi, go shopping, walk the dog, go fishing. I feel like it's easy to get stuck in the house when you're not motivated to play.

I feel like giving my sims home-based careers also works better for me. When sims are in work like 5/7 days, I feel like I don't get the chance to really connect with them (it sounds weird lol) so I prefer them to have home-based jobs.

Create a house with an outdoor area your sims can hang out in, this helps a lot especially if you hate how indoor pictures look. For indoors as well, I use a lot of lights and windows cause pictures inside the house can look soooo dull.

Mix in pose-player every now and again just to again give the save another level of depth.

Use gameplay enhancement mods like more social interactions, better babies and toddlers, mc command center, true happiness, have some personality please, meaningful stories and slice of life

Just have fun - I try not to think too much about simblr or taking pictures when I’m playing and that takes the pressure off immensely cause I feel like I can apply myself fully to the game. Of course when picture worthy things happen, I’ll take pictures but in those inbetween moments, just don’t put too much pressure on yourself.

I really hope this helps :-)

#wow this is so much longer than i thought it would be #i hope it helps someone at least #also sorry for any typos #english and i are constantly beefing

17 notes · View notes

d-criss-news · 3 years

Link

The Glee star and Emmy winner for The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, Darren Criss, 34, will be releasing his first album of Christmas songs, titled A Very Darren Crissmas (October 8). It includes duets with Adam Lambert, Evan Rachel Wood and an original song, “Drunk on Christmas,” featuring Lainey Wilson.

What was your goal with this Christmas album?

To reintroduce familiar songs in a new way. But I also wanted to take lesser-known songs and make those feel more familiar. And, most importantly, I wanted to take songs that people don’t associate with Christmas but I do—like Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”—and try to make them feel like Christmas songs.

What inspired you to write “Drunk on Christmas”?

It’s about the end of Christmas when everything’s been done. There’s wrapping on the floor, you’ve cleaned things, the in-laws have left and there’s nothing else to do. It’s two people having a sit-on-the couch moment, sipping a glass of cocoa with some SoCo [Southern Comfort] in it.

What is it about Christmas music? Why did you want to do the Christmas album?

Christmas or the holiday season is something that, whether we like it or not, we experience every year, and that comes with a litany of wonderful songs and music that again, whether you have been proactive about listening to it or not, it’s pretty hard to avoid. It’s permeated our cultural consciousness for our entire lives. So if you happen to be someone like me who consumes music at a hyperactive level, I’ve always adored Christmas music.

People say this because of the way that it makes them feel and the things that it reminds them of. There are so many layers to why people enjoy Christmas music. It’s nostalgic, it is very romantic, at least in the true dictionary meaning of the word romantic. And to me, I’ve always loved it for a much more anthropological reason, which is for one month or several weeks out of the year we suddenly subscribe to a certain sentiment that the other 11 we don’t really dial into. We want it all, then we want it to just go away.

What makes Christmas songs different?

As a musician I’ve always loved that Christmas music can employ certain musical elements that otherwise aren’t very popular. To me, it’s incredible that without a doubt the estates of many artists are guaranteed placement on the radio even though many of them have been deceased for many years. The pop charts are dominated by whatever contemporary, awesome artists there are nowadays, but in December you can guarantee that Burl Ives and Dean Martin will be on the radio with the best of them. I find that so charming. It’s because people really, really love this music.

And those songs don’t sound like the sounds that we’re hearing on the radio, sonically, harmonically, rhythmically. They employ a lot of “classic” sounds that evoke the feeling of Christmas. I’m a self-proclaimed genrephile—this is a term I use for myself throughout all the stuff that I do. I can’t help but be so enchanted by this idea that artists have license, and by license I mean an excuse to do things that you ordinarily wouldn’t be encouraged to do, or that audiences wouldn’t necessarily be as quick to absorb.

So, when you’re talking about classic Christmas writing, for lack of a better word, you use clichéd Christmas terminology, you use certain chords, and harmonies, and instrumentations that you just wouldn’t do throughout the year. It leans on the slightly more sophisticated, slightly more musical, and that is really exciting for someone like me.

How much does the fact that your last name is Criss play into this?

If you play music and your last name is Criss, every year someone says, “You know what you should do?” as if they’re the first person who’s ever thought of this idea. So I’ve always wanted to do this; it was just a matter of time. And I also didn’t want it to be phoned in, I didn’t want it to seem like, “Oh, here’s some songs that you know already.”

I wrote this in my liner notes that my favorite thing to do with art, but particularly music, is curate, interpolate, create and personalize. That’s my main thing. I’m an OK singer, I’m an OK musician, but what I really think I have a yen for is trying to interpolate something new that people didn’t know before.

If you think about a song like “Jingle Bells,” it was not written for Christmas. It was a song from 200-something years ago that bears no mention of Christmas whatsoever, but we associate it so heavily with Christmas. Lately I hear Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” come up on Christmas playlists. I think it must have something to do with the Christian angle of the song and the reverence of the word “hallelujah,” but there’s no mention of Christmas.

So there’s a lot of different things that can make people feel like Christmas if you arrange it a certain way, and that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted this cocktail of songs that people didn’t know and I might be able to introduce to them in a really new, interesting way.

You duet with Adam Lambert, Evan Rachel Wood and Lainey Wilson. These people couldn’t be more different. How did you select your song partners for this?

Honestly, people are busy, so I leaned on friends of mine. The album is called A Very Darren Crissmas, and I wanted to make it just that. Songs that are very, very me, doing things that are very me, and using the talents of people who are legitimately in my life. Adam has been a pal for a long time. We’ve known each other from just adventures in Hollywood, but he, of course, was on Glee with me. Evan Rachel is a dear pal of mine; we’ve done some things together. She’s played my festival, and I’ve done comedy sketches with her and stuff. These are all extraordinarily talented singers. As I told them when I asked them to be a part of it, “I’d be very lucky to have you on this record.”

I had not met Lainey Wilson before I started this. But when you’re in Nashville, you are in the Olympic tent of USDA certified prime country singers. And that’s a bit of a blind spot for me as far as who’s on the up and up, who’s somebody that can really give a level of authenticity, legitimacy to a more classic ’50s Nashville sound, which is the song that I wrote called “Drunk on Christmas.” My producer Ron Fair, who has been living in Nashville for a while, suggested Lainey and we got on like a house on fire. She’s an extraordinary talent and I was happy to have her. These were all people that were part of this grassroots friend to friend thing. That’s how I got them and I’m very lucky that they’re on the record.

There are hundreds of Christmas songs. How did you choose what to include?

Choosing was extremely hard. I had a list of about 100 songs. I’m not done; this record is only phase one in my mind. There are so many songs that it will make your head spin. If you go, “Did you think about this song?” The answer is yes, and I absolutely had to deliberate which ones I had to triage out of the sequence.

I even said no to “The Christmas Song,” which is on the album. I didn’t want to do it because I was like, “Everybody knows it; it’s perfect by Nat King Cole,” and Mel Tormé [who wrote it] is one of my favorite artists of all time, much less songwriters and musicians. So I was like, “I don’t want to have to do that.” And on the day when we were there, we just had a guitar and said, “Let’s just do it for fun,” because I love singing that song. But I was like, “It’s been done perfectly too many times, I really don’t want to have to put myself up against that.” But we had a nice take, it’s live in the room. And hey, come on, it’s Christmas. So I left it on there.

If we were to come to your house during the holidays, what would you be listening to?

I’d probably sit you down and play you my favorite songs that you’ve never heard that I think are great Christmas songs. But what’s nice is I’ve now put those songs on this album, hopefully, in a perhaps delusional effort to standardize these songs in the Christmas pantheon. There has to be an air of delusion to being an artist in the first place. If one of these songs that no one’s ever heard before catches on with a family or a person and becomes part of their Christmas playlist every year, then I will have succeeded in my efforts.

What did the Emmy you won for The Assassination of Gianni Versace do for your career?

Although the Emmy has just my name on it, the number one thing that I’m most proud of is it’s more symbolic and representative of the work of the whole team. It is a validation and celebration of the really hard work of people that I spent a lot of time and energy with creating this role.

You have a couple voice roles coming up—in Trese and Yasuke—but what are we going to see you in next, not just hear you?

I don’t know. Let me know if there’s any opportunities. A huge reason for why this album was made was because I had the time. Making records takes a lot of time, and I’m envious of people who are just singers. I don’t know how people do that, that’s just not who I am. I’m a producer, I’m a writer, I’m a musician. It takes so much out of me to make a body of music because someone doesn’t say, “OK, here are the songs, show up on a Tuesday, you sing it and then you leave.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Some of my favorite artists can do that and are blessed enough to be able to just do that. I can’t.

It takes so much time for me to really get in the weeds, arrange, edit vocals, edit instrumentation, mix tracks, really getting in the jungle of music production. I can’t function any other way and that takes an extraordinary amount of time. Even when there was a global pandemic, I still had deadlines that we could barely make to finish this album because that’s just how my brain works.

So I haven’t been able to act. I haven’t had an acting job in almost two years. That’s not entirely true. I’ve had little bit things during the pandemic, but no big series or films or anything like that. It’s just been mostly working from home and being as proactive as I can be. I started a weekly podcast with a friend of mine, I put out an EP. I’ve been extremely busy with high output and low visibility. I’m waiting for the next thing, but I’m not one to sit still. If you give me time, I’m going to fill all the spaces out. So I did that with music this past two years.

Are you going to go back to Broadway now that it’s opening again?

I don’t want to say anything that is not perhaps confirmed 100 percent, but I will say with full confidence that I have always had the intention of going back exactly where we started. I’ll let them announce what’s happening because every show is in its own unique holding pattern. But, yes, right before the shutdown I was doing American Buffalo in New York, and talk about the actor’s dream, that is right up there. Doing a great American play that I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve had a long history with that show, and I finally get to do it for real with two of my favorite actors—Sam Rockwell and Laurence Fishburne. They are two acting heroes of mine.

So I was in rehearsals for that. We were about to go into tech, and things got shut down. But we’re in a very fortunate position where you’ve got two huge movie stars, you have a very well-known play and you have a fixed set and just three guys. There are musicals that have orchestras, big choruses and huge set pieces, and the overhead and upkeep of these productions is quite complicated. And a lot of them, for that reason, fell by the wayside during the pandemic, and it’s an awful tragedy. But our set and our billboard and our posters are exactly where we left them. It’s kind of a trip. If you go to Circle in the Square, I keep telling people it’s the longest I’ve ever been on Broadway because it’s just sitting there dormant, waiting to be resurrected.

I think all of us are planning on going back. I think the show is scheduled to reopen almost to the day that it was supposed to open in 2020. We’ll see how the schedule ends up, but you have three guys whose heart and soul is the theater. I don’t want to speak for the other two guys, but I’m almost positive that all three of us would rather be doing that play on Broadway than anything else. So when I say I haven’t had an acting gig in two years, it’s been a comfort to know that that was waiting for me on the other end. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we’ll be able to do it. We’ll have to make sure that everything is hunky-dory with theater audiences, et cetera, et cetera, but that’s the idea.

How did Ryan Murphy casting you in Glee change your life?

I said during my Emmy speech that actors are only as good as the moments they get. I used to say actors are only as good as the parts they get. Take that with a huge grain of salt, obviously, it’s not entirely true. But in context of that moment, certainly you can understand what I meant. Acting is a proactive craft, but in many respects it’s a passive career, where you have to hope and wait for a benefactor, a patron, a supporter to say, “OK, all right, kid, you’re up. I think you can do it.”

I think any artist’s life is a constant compromise between knowing what you can do and what you want to do, and having other people, audiences and creative authorities alike, have an idea of what you can do. You have to have that balance of somewhere in the middle, where hopefully you can rise to an occasion that you know you can do, that somebody’s going to give you the opportunity to do. But you’re not in control of that relationship, and so you have to sit and hope and pray that someone is going to give you that moment and that opportunity. That was something that I’m fully indebted to with Ryan.

Because he did say, “All right, kid, you’re up,” and gave me that shot. We talked about the The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story series for years before we did it. I didn’t think he was ever going to do it. By the time we started shooting, he probably mentioned it to me three or four years prior. And I kept asking about it like, “Hey, you still want to do this thing?” I think he was just always obsessed with the fact that I was half Filipino and that I bore a certain resemblance to the guy. Age and everything, it seems pretty spot-on. But he was a man of his word, and he really did end up making it. So I’m incredibly indebted to him and I’ve always been very effusive about that.

Now that you have this modicum of fame, what would you like to use it to accomplish?

For me, there are so many things that I love in this world that I don’t think other people are familiar with. One of the things about having a modicum of a platform is hopefully embracing that to use it as a gateway drug for stuff that people might not be familiar with. I don’t know if they’re going to like it as much as I do, but I’m looking at this track list and there are songs that I guarantee that you don’t know.

These are all things where I go, “OK, I have this moment of people’s attention, hopefully, this is a fun way to have them have eyes on something that I think is deserving of eyes, and not because of me, but because of other people who have made something amazing.” And, hopefully, they have the same proactive curiosity that I had growing up where I look at the liner notes and see who wrote the songs and where they came from. But we’ll see. We’ll see if people have that reaction.

You’ve accomplished so much. What’s the dream going forward?

The dream is to keep doing me, really. I think all you can do is be as true to yourself and try and do as accessible and as valuable work as you can. And, hopefully, in so doing, represent people, giving them visibility and encouragement towards their own place in the cultural conversation.

#darren criss #parade magazine #a very darren crissmas #press #oct 2021

56 notes · View notes

queenmarytudor · 4 years

Photo

The Spanish Princess S2 rewrite

The wonky timeline and horrible inaccuracies of The Spanish Princess season 2 inspired me to plot out the season myself.

I made some minor timeline changes to make things flow easier, speeding up the time between events while ignoring Catherine’s first daughter born in 1510 and Mary’s 1518 French betrothal - but I can guarantee my version is 100% more accurate than Emma Frost’s ;)

I used the same following events in the series as rough reference points:

Birth and death of Prince Hal - episode 1

Battle of Flodden - episode 2

Princess Mary’s birth - episode 4

Field of the Cloth of Gold - episode 6

but I’ve dramatically altered the context, featuring a lot more festivities, the births of Margaret Douglas and Frances Brandon, and Henry VIII’s affair with Mary Boleyn!

EPISODE 1 - SIR LOYAL HEART (1511)

King Henry VIII and his new bride, Queen Catherine of Aragon, are crowned king and queen of England, to great rejoicing.

The new court is full of revels; Henry dresses up as Robin Hood to surprise his young queen, along with his band of merry men. An amused Catherine is declared his Maid Marian. The happy king and queen dance together, while Mary, Henry VIII’s sister dances with the king’s best friend Charles Brandon. After the revelry, Catherine confesses to her husband she is with child.

Henry writes to his father in law Ferdinand that he considers him his new father, and prefers an alliance with him rather than any other prince.

Catherine is sent a blessed girdle by her sister, Margaret queen of Scots, to guarantee a safe birth. She had been given it by Catherine previously to use in the birth of her son, prince James of Scotland, and hopes it gives her similar luck. Catherine is touched by the kind gesture.

On New Years day, Catherine gives birth to a prince, named Henry for his father.

Henry goes to a shrine, Our Lady at Walsingham, to give thanks while Catherine recovers. The king of France, Louis XII, is made godfather of little Prince Hal.

When Catherine is churched and returns to court there are jousts to celebrate England’s new heir. Henry jousts as “Sir Loyal Heart”. His sister Mary gives Charles Brandon her favour before the pair joust. Henry is victorious, but Charles admits privately to Mary after that he let the new father win. Catherine happily awards her husband the main prize.

A grand feast follows, where a jubilant Henry encourages the people to take the gold from his costume. A stampede follows, and the laughing king and queen must be helped to safety.

Their happiness is interrupted by the sad news that prince Hal is dead.

The court is plunged into grief, and Henry, in an effort to distract himself, declares war on France, wanting to win back the land lost to England. He asks a mourning Catherine’s help in convincing her father to fight with him. She agrees eagerly; God has taken her son, but he will surely bless them with another when they defeat their ancient enemy.

EPISODE 2 - FLODDEN (1513)

There has been several months of planning war against France, and Catherine is in the early stages of pregnancy. She talks to the Venetian ambassador about hiring Italian ships for an invasion, asking about the cost. Henry admires her attitude, and declares her regent of England while he is in France.

On the eve of her husband’s departure, Catherine tells him their child has quickened, leaving Henry even more eager to win for the sake of their son’s future inheritance.

Before they cross the channel to fight, Mary promises Charles Brandon to look after her brother. He reassures her they will both be fine; Mary says he’ll look after the king, and she the queen.

In France, Henry, Charles, and the other men wait on Catherine’s father, Ferdinand of Aragon. He never arrives, and Henry is incensed to discover he has been betrayed. He successfully lays siege to Therouanne, taking the town and demolishing the walls, creating large fires. They carry on, leaving destruction behind them.

Meanwhile in England, a now visibly pregnant Catherine heads the Privy Council meetings and realises they will have to fight the Scots, allied with the angry French. She writes constantly to the king’s almoner, Thomas Wolsey, worrying how her husband fares.

Catherine, helped by Mary, busies herself preparing essential items for battle, including sewing banners of the royal arms of England and Spain.

Margaret writes a letter pleading her sister not to attack, but Catherine burns it and rallies her soldiers with a rousing speech, saying “English courage excels that of all other nations!”. The soldiers proudly take her banners to battle at Flodden field, where they slaughter the Scots.

Catherine and Mary wait anxiously before England is declared victorious and Catherine is brought James IV of Scotland’s body. She wants to send his head to her husband, but her men persuade her not to. She sends her friar, Friar Langley, to Scotland to comfort the now widowed Margaret.

Across the sea Charles Brandon distinguishes himself by capturing a gatehouse at Tournai. Henry is sent James IV’s bloodstained clothes and a letter from Catherine informing him of her success. Inspired, Henry leads the successful assault on Tournai.

In England, celebrations continue for their victory, but are dimmed when Catherine goes into labour early and gives birth to a stillborn son. Mary comforts her, promising Henry will be home soon.

Henry returns from France victorious, creating Charles Brandon the Duke of Suffolk for his actions. He assures Catherine all will be well now the enemy is defeated, as his sister Mary is to be betrothed to Louis XII of France to make peace between the two countries.

EPISODE 3 - GRIEF (1514)

In Scotland, a grieving Margaret is comforted by Archibald Douglas after being declared regent on behalf of her son, the now king James. He can relate to losing a spouse, as his wife died not long ago.

In England, Catherine is pregnant again, and sews Henry’s battle torn shirts as Mary gets fitted for her wedding dress. Henry’s sister is horrified at having to marry the French king.

Wolsey is now the archbishop of York, and Catherine is beginning to resent his growing influence and power at court. Henry has come up with an idea to claim Castile on behalf of Catherine. He and Catherine argue viciously over it. She thinks it is ridiculous; even if she agreed to fight with her father over the land, Castile is her sister Joana’s before hers, as their mother’s heir. Henry says Joana is mad and incapable of ruling, and therefore it passes to her, and by extension, him.

Catherine is miserable, not helped by her bad pregnancy. She is constantly sick, but disguises her pain to say goodbye to Mary. At the waterside before her departure, Mary gets her brother to promise she can choose her second husband. Henry agrees, and Mary sets sail for France with several ladies in waiting, including Mary and Anne Boleyn.

In Scotland, a lonely Margaret finds herself falling in love with Archibald Douglas.

Catherine is torn between her husband and her father, even more so when Henry decide to send Charles Brandon over to France to discuss a new alliance with King Louis against him.

In France, Charles talks to Louis about an alliance against Ferdinand but the French king is reluctant.

Catherine goes into early labour and gives birth to a son they name Henry for his father. He dies minutes after birth in his parents arms, and both are devastated.

Charles Brandon informs Mary of the queen’s loss; both comfort each other before Charles reluctantly sails back to England.

In Scotland, Margaret secretly marries Archibald Douglas, breaking the terms of her regency.

Back in England, Charles tells Henry he tried his best but Louis refused. Henry reveals he has dropped his plans to get revenge on Ferdinand for the sake of the queen.

Henry tells Catherine he has realised there are more important things to focus on - like her, recovering. They cuddle in bed, brought back together in shared grief for their son.

EPISODE 4 - THE THREE QUEENS (1515 - 1516)

In Scotland, Margaret’s secret marriage is discovered when she becomes pregnant. Besieged and desperate for help, she sends a letter to her brother in England.

In France, Mary becomes a widow after King Louis dies. Henry sends Charles Brandon to bring her home, not before making him promise not to marry her. As she had with Margaret, Catherine sends her friar, Friar Langley, to comfort another Tudor widow; she has no need for him now as her prayers have been answered - she is with child again.

In France, Friar Langley tells Mary that the privy council, especially Wolsey, will never let her and Charles be wed. The pair marry anyway, helped by the new French king, Francis. Francis also gives his blessing for the Duke of Albany to take up the regency of King James in Scotland.

Henry is furious with both of his sisters, as Mary has married without his permission and Margaret urges him to send an army to help her. Henry refuses to send an army, but says Margaret can stay at his court.

Archibald urges Margaret to obey the council and surrender her son to a newly returned Albany, but she refuses. After a long argument, a defeated Margaret turns over James to Albany and flees with Archibald to her brothers court for the sake of her unborn child.

Mary reminds Henry “as you well know, I have always borne good mind towards my lord of Suffolk.” She beseeches him to “keep all the promises that you promised me when I took my leave of you by the waterside.”

Wolsey convinces Henry to allow Mary and Charles to return home to England if they pay a fine. To sweeten her brother’s disposition, Mary steals a large French jewel, the Mirror of Naples, for him.

On the Scottish borders, Archibald refuses to cross into England with Margaret and reveals he intends to make peace with Albany. A betrayed Margaret carries on to London without her husband.

Mary and Charles return home to England, but her lady Anne Boleyn decides to stay on with the new French queen.

All 3 Tudor queens, Catherine, Mary, and Margaret, are now back together in the English royal court, and pregnant.

Margaret has still not forgiven Catherine for the role she played in her first husband’s death. She asks for her blessed girdle back, and Catherine agrees.

Shortly after, Margaret gives birth to a daughter, also named Margaret. Catherine visits her and apologizes for the hurt she has caused. She gives her new dresses and jewels that befit the queen regent of Scotland, and Margaret thaws.

Catherine tries to reconcile the three Tudor siblings, saying their children will all be cousins and it would be a shame to make them enemies as they will be the future royal family.

Henry forgives his sisters; he delights in wearing the Mirror of Naples Mary has stolen from King Francis, and tells Margaret Archibald’s actions were “Done like a Scot”.

Grand jousts are put on to celebrate Mary and Margaret’s return to court. Catherine and Mary watch on proudly as their husbands compete against each other, while Margaret is cheered by a letter arriving from her husband, saying he is trying to negotiate with Albany.

Catherine successfully gives birth to a little girl, named Mary in honour of her aunt. Wolsey, now a Cardinal, is made her godfather, while Margaret Pole is made her godmother and governess. A delighted Henry assures the Venetian ambassador “We are both young; if it was a daughter this time, by the grace of God the sons will follow.”

EPISODE 5 - MAY DAY (1517 - 1518)

Henry and Catherine are head over heels with their surviving child, now a thriving toddler. Mary is constantly flaunted by her parents to ambassadors and courtiers who dote on her; the king names her his pearl of the world, and brags she never cries. The royals are informed of attacks on foreigners in London, but caught up in their happiness, they brush off the news.

The three queens meet at Margaret’s London townhouse, with their children, Princess Mary, Margaret Douglas and Henry Brandon. Mary is pregnant again, while Margaret is eager to return to Scotland as the people around her household are becoming increasingly hostile towards her.

On May Day there are large scale riots in the city, and royal officers including Charles Brandon are sent to suppress them. Three hundred rebels are rounded up and sent to the king and queen. An emotional Catherine, Margaret and Mary beg for Henry to have mercy on them for the sakes of their wives and children, which is given.

Margaret leaves with her daughter to reunite with her husband in Scotland. Mary and an increasingly devout Catherine accompany her northwards while on pilgrimage to visit the Our Lady shrine at Walsingham, the same place her husband visited in thanks after she gave birth to their short lived son. Catherine suspects she is pregnant again.

While his wife is away, Henry entertains his daughter, and writes a Defence of the Seven Sacraments with Thomas More. Increasingly bored as the months pass, he begins an affair with one of Catherine’s ladies, Bessie Blount.

On her return to court, Catherine tells Henry his sister has given birth to a healthy girl named Frances in honour of the French king, and surprises Henry with her own big belly, obviously with child. He orders Te Deum to be sung in the churches in celebration.

In her absence, Henry has grown a beard as part of a peace pact with Francis, but Catherine dislikes it and asks him to shave. He agrees happily after her surprise.

Unfortunately, their joy is as short lived as their child; Catherine soon gives birth to a daughter who dies not long after.

EPISODE 6 - CLOTH OF GOLD (1519 - 1520)

Catherine and Henry take comfort in Mary and the new title, “Defender of the Faith”, that Henry has been given by the Pope. Catherine is teaching her daughter Latin, and all is well until it is discovered that Bessie Blount is pregnant. She is sent away from court to a nearby priory to avoid the scandal being discovered.

Back in Scotland, Margaret discovers her husband Archibald has been living openly in her house with a mistress.

Cardinal Wolsey devises a royal summit with the French king, the Field of the Cloth of Gold, to cement their peace treaty. Henry is eager to see his rival, King Francis, in the flesh.

Bessie has given birth to a bastard son, Henry, who Henry immediately recognises as his own and gives the surname Fitzroy. He makes Wolsey his son’s godfather, and sends him to a secret christening. Henry promises Catherine Fitzroy will be kept away from court, but he will do his fatherly duty. He sends some of Princess Mary’s ladies to care for him.

Margaret writes to her brother she wants a divorce. Catherine sympathises with her sister as she is in a similar position, but urges Margaret to commit more fully to her husband, as she is. Henry and Catherine are determined to put the Fitzroy argument behind them and spend time with Princess Mary as a loving royal family.

Margaret discovers the Duke of Albany has been invited to the Field of the Cloth of Gold, and urges him to convince her brother to help her.

Henry, Catherine, Henry’s sister Mary and Charles Brandon attend the Field of the Cloth of Gold in France. In their absence, England is ruled by Princess Mary, Margaret Pole and the Privy Council.

At the Field of the Cloth of Gold, the Duke of Albany talks to Henry; again Henry and Catherine refuse to support his sister in a divorce. Margaret needs to work out her differences with her husband, for the sake of their daughter.

Catherine and Queen Claude of France become friends, bonding over their husband’s rivalry and their ladies in waiting becoming mistresses. Catherine is grateful Henry is discreet with his lovers, unlike Francis with Francoise de Foix, and that in England there is no official recognised royal mistress position.

King Francis proposes a match between his son and Princess Mary; Henry agrees to allow some French ambassadors to visit England.

In England, the French ambassadors meet with Mary. Mary, watched over by Margaret Pole, entertains them by playing the virginals and offering them strawberries, her favourite.

In France, the kings hear the ambassadors are enchanted with the princess. Catherine is secretly displeased, as she favours her nephew, the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, as Mary’s future husband. She says her daughter is far too young to marry, and the four royals agree they will wait until Mary is older for the pair to wed.

At the festivities, Catherine’s lady Mary Boleyn reunites with her sister Anne, who returns with them back to England as one of Catherine’s ladies.

EPISODE 7 - THE KING’S PEARL (1522 - 1523)

Catherine concentrates more on her daughter’s future. Hearing of his talents, she meets the great scholar Juan Luis Vives and commissions him to write a book on female education for Princess Mary.

A desperate Margaret writes that her marriage to Archibald is invalid as James IV is still alive. Catherine is incredulous; she had seen the Scottish king’s dead body herself. Catherine and Henry again refuse to support her.

After an annoyed Henry tells Edward Stafford off for failing to keep the Welsh in line, Catherine persuades Henry that an Imperial marriage would be better for England and their daughter.

Charles V visits England, where a grand pageant is performed in his honour. Henry’s sister Mary plays Beauty, while Mary Boleyn is Kindness and Anne Boleyn Perseverance. Afterwards, Anne flirts with a courtier, Henry Percy; she says she likes his beard.

In the midst of the festivities Edward Stafford, still annoyed over being rebuked by the king, makes a snide remark overheard by Wolsey.

Princess Mary, wearing a Valentines brooch for her cousin, meets Charles V. Catherine says he cannot leave without seeing Mary dance. Mary does not need to be asked twice; Catherine watches her daughter proudly as she impresses the emperor.

In Scotland, Margaret commands Albany to appeal directly to the Pope for a divorce, as Archibald has turned her mad. He agrees to help her. Margaret and Albany finally come to an agreement over the regency of James, which is confirmed by the Scottish parliament. Margaret is not regent, but is able to help her son govern.

Princess Mary is formally betrothed to Charles V, but after he leaves England Charles breaks the treaty and marries Isabella of Portugal. This infuriates Henry, who takes his anger out on Catherine. They have a blazing argument, where he blames her not only for her nephew jilting their daughter, but for not bearing a male heir. Edward Stafford has been listening to prophecies that predict his death and intends to kill him himself after their argument; England is not safe if he were to die without a successor. Catherine argues they have an heir; her mother ruled as a queen in her own right, and she herself ruled the country for him when he was in France.

Juan Luis Vives presents his finished book to Catherine. She tells him “If I had to choose between extreme sorrow and extreme well-being, I think I would prefer the former to the latter, for people in disgrace need only some consolation, while those who are too successful frequently lose their minds.”

She is comforted by Vives’ assurance that she is a good queen and mother, and a model for all woman. Henry meanwhile, is comforted by Mary Boleyn while Edward Stafford is executed for treason.

EPISODE 8 - DECLARE, I DARE NOT (1525 - 1527)

Archibald approaches the Scottish parliament heavily armed, but Margaret orders cannons to be fired at him. Henry Stewart, the master of artillery, is eager to obey, but the English ambassadors are appalled at their actions. They tell her not to attack her husband, but Margaret replies they should “go home and not meddle in Scottish matters”.

In a ceremony, Catherine watches on as her husband announces Princess Mary will go to the Welsh Marches with Margaret Pole and her own council to learn how to govern. It appears Henry has changed his mind and is prepared to accept his daughter as the first ruling queen of England; Catherine is delighted, especially when Mary is given the executed Stafford’s lands and the lordships of Bromfield, Chirkland and Yale to support her new role.

In the same ceremony, a proud Mary and Charles Brandon look on with their daughter Frances as their son Henry is made earl of Lincoln. Shortly after Henry Fitzroy is made Duke of Richmond and Somerset. Catherine is furious, especially when Henry declares his bastard and household will go to the northern borders to defend England against the Scots.

Mary Boleyn gives birth to a girl, Catherine Carey, named in honour of the queen. Catherine says the child looks just like her father.

Henry and Wolsey press ahead with arranging a marriage treaty with France as discussed at the Field of the Cloth of Gold; Catherine, desperately wanting to make amends with her husband, reluctantly agrees.

Wolsey tells Henry Percy and Anne Boleyn off for getting betrothed without approval from the king. She is only a knight’s daughter, and beneath Percy’s rank; he is sent from court to marry Mary Talbot.

An ambassador for the French marriage, Bishop Tarbes, arrives to see Princess Mary. Tarbes questions Henry and Catherine about their daughters legitimacy. Catherine brushes off Tarbes’ concerns, as the Pope had given her and Henry a dispensation to marry even if her marriage to Arthur had been consummated.

Henry visits Mary Boleyn and congratulates her, wondering if her daughter is his. While looking after her sister, Anne talks with Henry; sparks fly.

Margaret is relieved to hear the Pope has finally sanctioned a divorce from Archibald. Though she acknowledges she will have to let Archibald attend Parliament, she is free to marry again should she choose. She drinks to her success with Henry Stewart, acknowledging he is quite handsome…

Henry has grown his beard out again, but this time refuses to shave when Catherine reminds him she hates beards. He insinuates to Anne Boleyn she could be his mistress, but she refuses after seeing how he’s treated her sister.

Princess Mary is formally betrothed to the French king’s son and there is a joust to celebrate. Henry competes with the motto “Declare, I Dare Not”, in stark contrast to Sir Loyal Heart in episode 1, and Catherine is confused.

With the celebrations over, an emotional Henry and Catherine must say goodbye to their daughter. Together they watch on as Mary, helped by Margaret Pole, prepares to leave court for her own estates in the Welsh Marches. As he holds his wife, Henry’s gaze cannot help but drift to a smiling Anne Boleyn nearby…

Embracing her daughter, Catherine gives Vives’ book to Mary as a farewell present. She promises her she will one day be queen of France - and England.

In a flash forward years later, Henry and Catherine’s daughter Mary is crowned the first queen regnant of England, to great rejoicing.

The last episode basically comes full circle to the first, with several parallels:

France are enemies/friends

Henry jousts for Catherine/Anne

Catherine loses Prince Hal/Princess Mary

Henry and Catherine are crowned/Mary is crowned

and we all know how the future will be, with a queen replaced because she can’t produce a male heir…

#let me know what you think!#the spanish princess #i know i focused more on the tudor's and not lina/oviedo #but just imagine them living their best life watching all the craziness unfold #i was going to have her be the lady henry dismisses in anger after catherine hating fitzroy becoming a duke but thought that was too mean!#they deserve their happy ending and catherine deserves a friend :)

162 notes · View notes

naturallyadventured · 3 years

Text

ferny__t

How to reign in nudists. We went to a naked salsa festival last week. The day vibe was a nudey beach time hang. Volley ball etc. The evening another post entirely. . It took us a little bit of time to cast our swimmers and vulnerabilities aside, but soon enough a naked swim in the sea was just too inviting. . Never has my smile been so big. Strutting to the ocean along side two girlfriends, with all our wobbly bits jiggling away gloriously. Our boyfriends on the beach cheering us on. . I didnt feel sexualised, scorned or judged. I did feel big time empowered. All the bits I normally keep covered up sang the ultimate freedom song as legs tumbled a kimber in the surf. It wasnt long before we saw the boy's heads popping up like meerkats on the shore. The surf was pretty big - they were worried for their chicas. Soon enough their vulnerabilities were also cast aside. Three strutting men with wiggly bits coming to protect their women. Their chicas cheered them on. There are now six bare bottoms ducking, diving cartwheeling in the surf. The waves were getting bigger, the pull back a little stronger. There's a whistle on the beach. Two life guards attempting to reign in over excited nudists. 🙈 . We crawled out of the waves.... bedraggled. Hair sprawled across faces, sand everywhere. . I stood naked and nodding before the life guard as he shared his wisdoms of the ocean. I wanted to tell him we were ok - you werent seeing panic, just ecstatic liberation - but all my conversational effort was under the skin telling my arms and legs not to wrap themselves around my oh so bare body. . . Can I stand naked and empowered before this concerned man and not buckle? Common Fern, ya got this. 👊 . I giggled to myself reflecting how Ive never been told off by stranger whilst being naked before. Well for a v long time! Ill proudly register this moment in my memory bank as one of adult life's firsts. . Got me thinking about my @maison_fish Iceland crew... naked life highlight with that crew. Let the body run free!!!!! . #bodypositive #empoweredwomen #empoweredmen . p.s. always play safe in the ocean. have a check in point on land. know thy rip channel.

2 notes · View notes

agentrouka-blog · 4 years

Note

Loved your Arya Dany transition . Can you do a Jon Sansa transition considering their chapters also come many times one after the other ?

Hi anon!

Thank you so much!

Jonsa chapter transitions are a fun fun fun thing to look at. This has been done much better by other people. I tried it myself a little.

The obvious ones are in ACOK, where Jon flanks the chapter of Sansa’s flowering, and in ASOS, where it’s basically Jonsa Festival of Unsubtle Hints.

Sansa I -> Jon I

Sansa I: She meets the Tyrells, goes bibbledy over Jon-like Loras, hears the song The Bear And The Maiden Fair with the honey in her hair, gets an offer of marriage and is asked “Are you fond of fools?” Fools in feathers, specifically. Final line: “But look, here comes my cheese”, (which is supposed to be served last as the servant points out), which is followed by... -> Jon I: Mr. Cheese walks with the free folk, is referred to as a crow flying free (feathers), meets Mance singing the Dornishman’s Wife, which is a song later amended to “Northman’s daughter”. We have another reference to Bael the Bard, which ties to Lyanna (Jon’s true parentage) and Sansa both. Love and cloaks and motivations for leaving the Watch are mentioned extensively, and then Jon lies his way into the confidence of an invading monarch. THIS is followed by… -> Dany I.

Jon II -> Sansa II

Jon II: A tense confrontation with Mance is disrupted by Ygritte’s lie about her relationship with Jon and ends with his sexual entrapment. (I emphasize that I view this as sexual abuse.) -> Sansa II: ‘“A new gown?” she said, as wary as she was astonished.’ - This feeling basically mirror’s Jon’s emotions. This gown is the one she will wear to her surprise forced wedding to Tyrion, so Jon and Sansa are absolutely mirroring each other’s journey’s here, but more than that is also falls into Sansa’s gown-theme, which ties to her more general “marriage to a prince”, “the dragon’s heir”, “stained with fire and blood”, “I will make you a new one” theme, which hints at the idea that all the messed up or borrowed or treacherous dresses will eventually be replaced by a proper one for the real wedding.

Even if Dontos was right, and it is Winterfell he wants and not me, he still may come to love me for myself. Sansa hugged herself tightly, wondering how long it would be before the gown was ready. She could scarcely wait to wear it.

This chapter is followed by Arya III, who HAD promised to make Sansa a new dress at one point.

Jon III -> Daenerys III -> Sansa III

Jon III: Jon sends Ghost away the day before climbing the Wall, cave scene with Ygritte where he very very out of nowhere suddenly “loves” her, while still arguing about how he didn’t steal her and refuses to answer if he would sleep with his sister. Ygritte never wants to leave the cave. (Dany has her own cave with Drogon later, btw.) -> Daenerys III: She buys the Unsullied and has her first absolutely devastating and brutal act of warfare: Dracarys, dracarys, dracarys! -> Sansa III: Sansa’s gown is ready. Her forced wedding mirror’s Jon’s sexual entrapment and the cave scene.

Dany’s dragon threat separates Jon and Sansa here. He feels shame and conflict in a duplicitous relationship, Sansa is entrapped by marriage vows to Tyrion who will be in Dany’s service.

Sansa VI -> Jon IX

Sansa VI: She is shipped off to the Fingers by Bael-ish who reveals his Evil Masterminding and then marries her aunt, while Sansa is almost raped by a singer. Lysa offers that she marry her cousin, who likes stories about animals pretending to be something they are not. Sansa thinks “No one will ever marry me for love” and is told she must be obedient. “Yes, my son will have a humble and obedient wife.” -> Jon IX: Holds the Wall against the Wildling siege that mirrors Dany’s attack on Meereen (especially the turtles). Jon’s rest is interrupted by Janos Slynt and Aliser Thorne, who call him a turncloak. Jon remains calm (humble and obedient…) but gets violently angry and attacks Thorne when they besmirch Ned’s honor. Stark loyalty 180%. (The visuals here mirror Ned attacking Littlefinger and Show-Jon attacking Littlefinger, both of whom defended the honor of their loves.)

Jon XII -> Sansa VII

Jon XII: He contemplates Stannis’ offer of Winterfell by revisiting his recent experiences, his bastard trauma, his dream of rebuilding his home. Ghost returns to him and Jon has his answer: who am I? A Snow. He goes off, is voted Lord Commander, celebrates with his friends. Then he has a king to face. -> Sansa VII: She rebuilds Winterfell from Snow, with snowflakes like lover’s kisses, and defends herself from Bael-ish, and fights a Little savage giant. Someone kills a murderous, jealous aunt to protect her.

Jon makes a choice that is later revealed to be “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa”, and Sansa repays this by granting Jon an indelible place in their rebuilt home.

These are pretty popularly known chapter transitions.

One less looked is in AGOT:

Sansa IV -> Jon VII

Sansa IV: She is summoned by an evil queen, pleads her loyalty and her love, is accused of future treason, and ends up writing letters urging loyalty to the evil queen, in order to save Ned. -> Jon VII: Bodies are found that are not what they seem, after Jon has nightmares about the Winterfell crypts. Jon hears of the king’s death and Ned’s treason. He is especially worried for his sisters and attacks Thorne for besmirching Ned’s honor (again!), he badly burns his hand when fighting the wight. “Dark snakes” spill from the belly of the wight. (Dragons?) and Jon prays that the corpse burns.

“Let it burn, he prayed as the cloth smothered the corpse, gods, please, please, let it burn.”

This is hard to parse, but if you consider reverse foreshadowing it might be that Sansa does write treasonous letters urging disloyalty to a certain evil queen in a way that pertains to Jon, while Jon is worried for his sisters, hoping dark snakes and fire don’t do their worst, after scary times with wights and violent confrontations with enemies.

One I am reeeeaaaaally curious about is Sansa’s TWOW sample chapter.

Alayne I ends with a pretty anvilicious line:

He grinned. "I will hold you to that promise, my lady. Until that day, may I wear your favor in the tourney?"

"You may not. It is promised to... another." She was not sure who as yet, but she knew she would find someone.

Hypothetically and chronologically, if he didn’t have to split the books, this HAS to be followed by a ADWD Jon chapter, doesn’t it? But which one? I’m not totally up on my timeline work yet, but it might coincide with Alys’s wedding in ADWD, chronologically. Alayne, the bastard girl, dances and dances, Jon refuses Alys’ offer while watching a different barstard dance (Satin) and worries for his safety.

And will GRRM follow this by a Jon chapter in TWOW?

Anyway, this is really fun. I’m working on something alittle more coherent about the chapter transitions for Arya and Tyrion because I think that’s going to be A Thing. A violent thing.

#asoiaf #jonsa #chapter transitions #Long post

73 notes · View notes

puddingheads · 4 years

Text

Eternity || Nishinoya Yuu.

In which the small things stay with you, forever.

Warnings: Fluff with slight angst, post time skip spoilers

Word count: ~2.4k

Note: I'm finally writing a fluff fic, but I can't seem to tear myself away from angst. It's extremely minimal here though, and there's a good ending! Special thanks to @rollinguuuthunda for inspiring me to write this (since you rEFUSE to read my angst fics >:()!! And yes, I’m bullying Noya in the summary since he’s shorter than me.

—

“Nishinoya, you got hurt again?” You nagged, firmly tugging at his arms to reveal the bruises littered on his skin. They were big and angry and purple; just the sight of them was enough to make you wince.

“They don’t hurt at all, they’re battle scars!” Nishinoya, ever so cheerful and optimistic, beamed brightly at you. In the two years of knowing him, you’d never seen him bothered by the countless injuries his position inflicted on him.

“Sit down,” settling on the floor cross legged, you patiently waited for him to heed your words. There was no room for disagreement, Nishinoya knew perfectly well that you took his well being very seriously.

He never really understood why, though. He never knew why you would grimace at the new bruises on his arms, or force him into his jacket after every match, or ask if he’d eaten his lunch every time you bumped into him in the halls. (Also, he never noticed how you always coincidentally had a protein bar with you when he would say no.)

“They really don’t hurt, I’m fine!” Nishinoya said, but still sat down despite the reluctance in his voice. Why did you always have ointment in your bag anyway? Compared to him, you barely ever got hurt.

“They will if the ball keeps hitting them,” You retort, huffing quietly while you rubbed the ointment onto the purple spots on his arm. “Stop resisting.”

For the first time, he decided to take notice of your knitted brows and slight pout. Why did you seem so upset? You weren’t the one getting hurt, he’d already assured you that he was fine, and you didn’t have to care so much about him. The subtle look of concern everyone else gave was already more than enough, why did you have to go the extra mile?

And for the first time, the dots in his head started to connect. Maybe, you were worried for him. Maybe, you hated to see him injured as much as he hated to see you frown. Maybe, you liked him as much as he liked you.

“Thanks,” Nishinoya mumbled, all his usual confidence replaced by demureness.

“You’re welcome,” your voice was as soothing as ever, the immense concentration in your eyes stirring something in his chest.

At that moment, everything disappeared. The ache in his thighs, the leftover adrenaline in his veins, the thumping of his heart; everything was drowned out by the featherlight touch of your fingers on his skin.

At that moment, the weight of his arm limp in your hand and the coolness of the ointment on your fingertips told of the trust he had in you. In the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt his new vow—”I’ll take better care of myself to not worry you.”

And at that moment, all he could feel was your fingers rubbing comforting circles on his arm and your silent plea—”I don’t want you to hurt, ever.”

ii.

After days and weeks and months of the push and pull game you had engaged Nishinoya in, he finally scored a date with you. It was in the middle of summer when you agreed to meet him at the park, where the summer festival was held.

Coincidentally, it was the day of the Star Festival, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was all on purpose. Only Nishinoya would choose such a day, the only day Vega and Altair were allowed to meet, to be the day of your first date. (Well, if it was on purpose, you sure hoped that you’ll still see him the next day. You didn’t want the first date to be the last, after all.)

“Noya, you’re late,” you chastised, watching him jog over to you with a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Sorry,” he laughed, tugging you along to the stands. Immediately, you were swept up by his antics and found yourself having a blast. It was just like him to easily infect you with joy and laughter, just like him to make you forget all your worries.

Spending time with him always felt like a magic carpet ride, bringing you to new places you never knew existed and making you feel emotions you never knew you could feel. It was intoxicating, and soon you found yourself drunk off the dream-like atmosphere.

After hanging your slip of paper with your wish on the wish tree, you turned to Nishinoya. For a second, it felt like a scene from one of your many dreams was playing right before your eyes. His hands firmly pressed together in a fervent prayer for his wish to come true, his brows knitted in the concentration you only ever saw when he was on the court, his lips pursed in unspoken yearning.

Silently, you wondered what he was wishing so desperately for. What more could he ask for, if he already had everything? What could the wish tree bring that he couldn’t attain with his effort?

(He wanted a lot of things, and all of them were related to you.)

His eyes instantly met yours when they finally opened. As if his wish had already been granted, a brilliant smile spread across his face. He fidgeted a little, hands searching himself for an almost-forgotten gift.

“For you,” he beamed, holding out a single forget-me-not. Some of its petals had already fallen from being jostled around throughout the evening, yet it still stood tall and proud, all its yellow and blue on display.

Taking it graciously, you could barely find the words to express the loud drumming of your heart in your chest. Before you could embarrass yourself with a haphazard word of thanks, a gust of wind blew.

The swaying strips of paper on the tree behind Nishinoya painted a meteor shower around his silhouette, adorning his already ethereal form with an otherworldly halo. Along with the wind was the smell of your shampoo, and almost as if he were one of Pavlov’s dogs, his heart instantly started racing and the tension in his shoulders dissipated.

In the wind was you, and in his lungs was the final push for him to fall down the rabbit hole. In the familiar scent of you was your wordless gratitude—”You give me a reason to smile.”

And in the wind was him, and held tight in your hands was the embodiment of his adoration. Under the full moon and colourful lights of the festival, no words were needed. In the sweet scent of the forget-me-not was his shy confession—”You make my heart pound, yet put me at so much ease.”

iii.

“I’m home,” you called out just as you stepped into your apartment and met Nishinoya’s eyes. Instantly, you recognised the nervous glint in his eyes, one you only saw when he broke something after getting carried away with Tanaka. “What did you do now, Yuu?”

“It’s nothing bad!” He was quick to defend himself, even quicker to unload the bags from your tired arms. Ever since you started officially dating Nishinoya, him being in your house on the weekends became a common occurrence.

Following him into your usually pristine kitchen, shock smacked you over the top of your head and sent you stumbling. It was a disaster zone, the counters littered with broken eggs and flour, and a mountain of dirty bowls in the sink. The oven dinged, bringing your attention to a suspicious mound inside.

“Were you baking?” You frowned, examining the crinkled top of the cake.

“Well, it’s our anniversary, and you like cake,” Nishinoya mumbled, pointedly staring at his creation. It wasn’t that bad, but it definitely made you hesitate to have a taste. “It’s your favourite kind, I’m sure you’ll like it!”

In his childlike confidence, you found yourself sighing in defeat. There was no way you could refuse when he was looking at you with so much hope in his eyes.

“Looks like we have two cakes to eat then,” you smiled fondly at him, pulling out a small box from one of the bags you brought home. “I got a slice from the bakery down the street.��

“We must be telepathic!” He exclaimed, excitedly unboxing the store bought slice and setting it next to his home baked one. The stark difference in appearance and his unabashed pride in his cake was hilarious yet endearing.

Deciding not to judge a book by its cover, you coaxed yourself to taste a fallen piece from the fruit of Nishinoya’s labour. Simultaneously, Nishinoya took a bite of the cake you had bought.

In the sweetness of the frosting and the fluffiness of the sponge cake, all Nishinoya could taste was your bashful devotion—”I only want the best for you.”

And in the saltiness of the crumbly cake(he must’ve gotten the salt and sugar mixed up again), all you could taste was his bold resolve—”I’ll do anything for you.”

iv.

“I want to travel the world.” Your fingers that were deftly twirling his hair came to a stop at Nishinoya’s sudden declaration.

“Do you have the money to go?” You asked, mind starting to wander. You’d always known that Nishinoya was a bird meant to fly, always known that Japan was unable to contain his huge dreams, always known that he would jump at any opportunity to explore the unknown. Yet, hearing it outright caught you off guard and got you worrying.

He was still young, still inexperienced, still naive. You saw these as reasons he should stay, he saw them as reasons he should go; for you were careful and he was carefree.

“I have a plan.” He replied, resolution strong in his voice. The confidence he usually emitted was now unable to reassure you, unable to drive away the darkness called unease from your heart.

“How long will you be gone?” With all your being, you wished that he would laugh and tell you it was a joke, like he always did.

“As long as it takes,” shrugging, he shifted to meet your eyes. In the intensity of his gaze, you knew he wasn’t joking. He was dead serious about it, and nothing you said would make him stay.

It wasn’t the first time you heard about his dream of travelling the world and experiencing everything he could, it wasn’t the first time you felt this helpless, and it definitely wasn’t the first time you feared his departure.

Somewhere deep in your heart was fear—a lot of fear. You were afraid of holding him back, afraid of watching him leave and never return, afraid of being away from him. But the day when you had to stop running away from the fear was bound to come; it was inescapable.

“I’m not breaking up with you, of course,” as if he could hear your fears, he continued. “We’ll keep in contact. We may be physically apart, but I’ll never leave. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

“We are.” You said, mustering all the conviction you could find. Whether it was to convince him or to convince yourself, you weren’t sure.

It took weeks of preparation and arrangements before Nishinoya was able to fly off. You had contemplated if you should send him off, since you were sure to break down in tears once he stepped through the departure gates, but decided to go to the airport anyway. All for seeing him just a little more.

“Wait for me, yeah?” Nishinoya muttered, face buried in your neck as he pulled you in a tight embrace. You hoped the strength in his grip wasn’t due to a hesitance at the last minute.

“I don’t know how I’ll do it without you,” you confessed, not realising the arrows your words pierced through his heart.

In your shaky voice and shallow breaths, he heard your reluctant promise—”No matter how long it takes, I’ll always be right there waiting for you.”

And in his rare moment of silence, you heard his wholehearted oath—”No matter how far I go, I’ll always come back to you.”

Years had passed, both Nishinoya and you had grown more mature, more accustomed to only seeing each other once a year, more familiar with loneliness. But now, Nishinoya’s desire to explore has been satiated, and his journey around the globe has come to an end. He was back.

“Yuu!” The elation in your voice easily drowned out his calling of your name, earning a few glances from the passersby in the airport.

Cupping his cheeks in your hands and resting your forehead against his, you closed your eyes and let out a content sigh. He immediately mirrored you, basking in your presence.

“I’m home,” Nishinoya whispered, pulling away.

“You’re home.” You reciprocated, taking all of him in. He was a little tanner than the previous time you saw him, his eyes a little brighter.

For the first time since you last saw him, everything felt right. With him back, a monotony you never noticed was relieved. With you back, a stability he had forgotten was restored. Being back together brought back memories of the past and gave hope for the future. To be a tad dramatic, you never felt quite as alive when he wasn’t by your side.

Just like the love stories and romance movies, everything around the both of you faded to nothingness. For a split second, it was just the two of you in the entire universe. For that split second, nothing else mattered, since you were with Nishinoya, and he wasn’t going anywhere else.

And in that split second, he decided that it was now or never.

Taking a step away, he fumbled for something in his pocket. As he sunk to one knee, realisation settled in your mind. Oh, oh.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Nishinoya declared, eyes glazed over and smile full of anticipation.

In the glittering diamond seated atop the silver band he held up, you saw his wish hung upon the wish tree—

And in the glimmering tears streaming down your cheeks as you nodded your head yes, he saw your wish hung upon the wish tree—

“Stay with me, forever.”

—

102 notes · View notes

ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years

Text

Blood In the Rivers: V

A/N: I know I said this would be out “soon” after the last chapter but I realized I hated everything I had written beforehand and had to redo everything. Thank you to everyone who has left likes, comments, and reblogged this little story of mine. You all deserve pretty things. Also, I know I said that this story would be about 8 chapters, but now it is looking like 10. I hate myself.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x F!Reader (Tully)

Rating: M for Attempted Sexual Assault and Murder -- please do not read if this upsets you

Word Count: 7.1k (again, I have no chill)

Read Chapters I-IV here! Or on Ao3!

Chapter Five: Pretty Words

A knock at her door had Y/N groaning. Every bit of her body felt heavy and she wanted nothing more than to pull the blankets up over her head and to forget that she was a person for another handful of hours. Sleep had evaded her for most of the night, leaving her tossing and turning as she mulled thoughts over in her head until she was sure she was losing her grip on reality. But Y/N’s buzzing mind, right before she finally slipped into a dreamless sleep, had come to the conclusion whatever happened with Oberyn and Ellaria had been beautiful and short and a game. A game she didn’t know she was playing. The Dornish Prince saw an opportunity to get under the Lannisters’ skin and took it. She could not blame him, but that did not mean it eased the ache of her heart. She had almost been in love, she was sure. Almost. And maybe, in time, she would be able to look back at those handful of days with a fond smile and delude herself into thinking she had been loved once.

The knock came again, louder and more insistent.

“Daisy?” The name was slurred on her tongue. It felt like her eyes had sealed themselves shut and she wiped a hand over her face as she sat up, knocking her mussed pillows to the floor. It was still dark in her room, the barest hints of sunlight had started to turn the dark sky into a hazy type of cerulean blue. Her still-sleeping mind took a moment to realize there was a hushed argument happening outside her door. Y/N slid off her bed on uneasy legs and pulled her dressing gown from her vanity before clumsily tying it about her waist. She slipped over to the door and moved the chair away before opening it.

Daisy and Daemon were standing steadfastly in front of her door, shielding it from two Lannister knights. The group turned as they heard the door open.

“Lady Tully. You are requested to appear before the King in the throne room at once-”

“She is indecent!” Daisy hissed. “You must give her time to ready herself.”

“Lady Tully-”

“She will be ready momentarily, Ser. Be patient.” Daisy quickly stepped into the room, pushing Y/N backward, before slamming the door shut. Anger colored her face a vibrant red and she marched up to one of the chests and yanked the top open and rifled through Y/N’s fine dresses until she pulled a dark blue one out. All the while, she was grumbling to herself about “stupid lions” and Y/N would have found it hilarious if she could blink without something aching. “We must get you dressed, my lady. I’m sure they’ll skewer Ser Daemon and knock down the door if we are not swift.”

She was soon dressed and once again looked like a respectable, high-born lady. “What do you suppose this is about?” Y/N asked as she slipped into her heeled boots. There was something dreadful twisting her stomach, like a premonition of some terrible deed not yet carried out.

Daisy shook her head as she started to lace them. “I do not know. But nothing good comes at this hour.” She stood as she finished and grasped Y/N’s hands. “But I shall stand behind you, whatever it is.”

Y/N smiled and reciprocated the squeeze before dropping their hold and straightening her shoulders. “Then let us go. To our doom or otherwise.”

Daisy nodded and opened the door. Daemon had continued to stand sentry between the chamber door and the Lannister guards and stepped forward only as the pair of women appeared behind him. “I shall lead them, Sers,” he bit out. The leather of his gloves creaked as his hold on the hilt of his sword tightened.

The Lannister men looked at each other and nodded tersely before turning and walking away toward the throne room. Y/N’s fingers curled around Daemon’s shoulder and squeezed in thanks before he led them out. The small group was quiet as they walked—quiet enough to hear the din of an assembled crowd as they neared the throne room.

“Be strong, my lady,” Daemon and Daisy whispered.

The doors opened and the murmurs grew in volume. Spectators thinly lined the walls as Tommen sat on the Iron Throne. Margaery was perched next to him on an ornate chair and their hands were clasped over the sharp spikes of the melted swords on the arm rest of the throne. Cersei and Tywin were seated on the raised dais, too. Each on their own chairs, emblazoned with roaring lions and red silk.

While Daemon and Daisy were forced to leave her side, Y/N continued down the center of the grand hall. She felt every single pair of eyes follow her steps. Sweat slicked her palms as she neared the dais but she refused to show any fear or sadness. She had cried enough for two lifetimes. If this was to be her fate, she would not whimper. Y/N curtseyed as she reached the edge of the dais and looked up at Tommen. “Your Grace. How may I be of service?” The doors to the Hall shut and it seemed to echo for ages.

Tommen, the sweet boy-king, looked like he was trying to fight a smile as he looked at her. “Lady Tully. I apologize for waking you at this hour. But I have come to learn some troubling news.”

“It seems your father has retaken Riverrun,” Tywin cut in. The Hand of the King pin near glistened in the torchlight over his heart. The most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms was staring at her.

“Is that so?” She hummed, ignoring her leaping heart. “I’m sure he won’t hold it for long.”

Tywin sat forward in his seat and stared at her. “Robb Stark is said to be within the castle’s walls.”

Something jubilant and dreadful all at once gripped her heart and whispers quickly slid through the crowd like a snake. “I was told Robb died at the Twins.”

“So was I.” The older man did not move his eyes from her face. “The time has come, Lady Tully, for you to show your true allegiance. You must marry—an ally to the Crown. Before you are to take your rightful place as the Lady of Riverrun, Protector of the Trident.”

The whispers grew, all the crowd’s words slithering together in a hiss in her ears. Her mouth went dry as if it had been stuffed with cloth—and now she could not stop her hands from shaking. When she would be married to Tywin, she would only be the Lady of Riverrun in name. She was sure she would never see its beautiful, red brick with creeping ivy. Never hear the roar of the rivers from her chambers. She would have her home—just out of reach. “My loyalty has never been in question before, my lord. But I…” she swallowed the hard lump in her throat. Tyrion and Jaime were standing off to the side of the throne, both wearing looks of pity and concern. “But I welcome any matches His Grace would find suitable.” This would be it, it seemed. She would be forced to accept Tywin’s formal proposal in this public setting and there would be no salvation this time. No careful words to avoid an answer. No being called away by a Tyrell in the last second.

“I have a suitable match,” Cersei said, pride oozing from every syllable.

Tommen nodded at his mother despite Margaery frowning. “I shall hear it.”

Cersei opened her smirking mouth and-

The door to the throne room burst open and a flood of orange and red and yellow quickly ran in, led by a panting Daemon-he must have dashed away right after delivering her to the Hall. Her heart seemed to want to crack through her chest when she spotted in Oberyn at the center of the Dornish crowd. He was dressed in his finery, a golden-red robe over a white tunic that sparkled with silver thread in the light. His sword was sheathed and slung at his waist with shining black leather. He looked every part the rogue prince of her childhood fairytales. He walked forward as the rest of his retinue bled into the crowd and she quickly looked forward once again.

“Prince Oberyn, good morning,” Tommen said, confusion coloring his tone.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” Oberyn greeted, barely dipping his head in a bow. “It seems I have lost my invitation to the festivities.”

Both Tywin and Cersei straightened in their seats. It was Cersei who spoke first. “Hardly festivities, Prince Oberyn. Lady Tully was answering for her family’s crimes. If she is to truly be an ally-”

“She must take a suitable husband?” Oberyn finished with a smirk. “Such a strange way to show loyalty.”

“Your family would know that the best way to make allies is through marriage,” Tywin said.

Oberyn chuckled and slid closer. She could almost feel his familiar heat at her back but Y/N did not turn to face him. “Yes. I know my family’s storied history. We are proud. There is nothing in our past we are ashamed of. No deeds we leave to whispers.” Another step closer. “No secret rape and murders of women and children. No, in Dorne that is considered distasteful.”

Y/N knew exactly to what he was referring. And only Oberyn would be so bold as to accuse the Lannisters of ordering the murder of Elia and her children in front of such an audience. Her eyes flickered to Ser Gregor standing in the shadows. He smirked as if proud to be reminded of his own brutality.

“What is your point?” Tywin asked, attempting to sound bored—but the edge of his tone betrayed him.

Y/N sucked in a steadying breath as she felt Oberyn’s fingers trail across her back as he stepped forward to look directly at Tywin and she shivered, immediately hating herself for how her body betrayed her. He reached into his robes and there was a sudden clatter of armor—Kingsguard and Westerland knights alike both readied for a fight against the famed Red Viper of Dorne. Oberyn chuckled again and pulled out a single slip of parchment. “You see, Your Grace, in Dorne betrothals are festivities. Not interrogations. Certainly not made by the end of a sword. And Lady Tully is already claimed.”

Y/N felt her face crumple into a frown. She had never been promised to anyone. Hoster had never asked her to meet with any lords. Her father had never written her with word of an arrangement-

Cersei waved her hand and a Kingsguard snatched the parchment from him with a sneer and quickly handed it over to the queen regent. She unfurled it with a flourish and Y/N watched the color quickly drain from her face. “This is ridiculous.”

“What is it?” Tommen asked, reaching for the letter. He took it from his mother’s hands and read it. His sweet face furrowed for a moment before he let Margaery read it, too.

Was everyone to read it before her? But the small smile Margaery let play on her lips was a small comfort. At least, Y/N prayed it was.

Tywin was then handed the parchment and his thin lips pulled tight against his teeth. “You are her betrothed, Prince Oberyn?”

It felt like she’d been hit in the chest with a war hammer. Seven hells! What was happening?

“I am. What you have in your hands is an agreement between Prince Doran and Lord Brynden Tully.”

“Brynden Tully is a traitor to the Crown-”

“But, surely, my brother is not. He is currently housing Princess Myrcella. You would not leave your only daughter in the hands of a traitor.”

Cersei’s hands curled over the arms of her chair and her nails bit into the wood. “I would not.”

“Obviously, this was arranged prior to Lord Brynden’s turn. But my brother’s word holds true. Y/N is mine.”

“Did you know of this?” Tywin asked, turning to pin Y/N with his stare.

“N-no, my lord. I have never heard of this before this morning.” How simple she must look, claiming to not know she was betrothed. Was any of what Oberyn had said true? Had Doran and her father truly come to this arrangement prior to the War of the Five Kings? Or was this another one of his games?

“Curious, is it not, that you’ve just produced this agreement? Why have you not come forward sooner?” Tywin asked Oberyn, eyes not leaving Y/N’s face.

Oberyn smiled as if he wasn’t aware of the anger he was conjuring in the old lion. “I wanted to woo my wife before letting her know we were to be married.”

“Romantic,” Margaery cooed.

“I would have wooed you,” Tommen said to his queen, cheeks pink.

“I know, my love,” Margaery replied. “But now you do not have to.”

Cersei scoffed at the new queen’s breathy tone before she, too, focused on Y/N. “What good would this marriage bring?” Cersei asked. “What could possibly be gained?”

“Happiness,” Oberyn answered easily. “My family has known tragedy and my brother and Lord Brynden knew that.”

Y/N turned to look at him. He smiled so easily at her that her chest ached. He was so handsome—even when she knew him to be lying.

“You said it yourself. Marriage helps create alliances. Solidify them. Lady Tully’s hand in marriage was a hope of keeping Dorne, my family, from supporting the dragons or leaving the Seven Kingdoms entirely.”

Hurried whispers ripped through the congregated mass at the sound of Oberyn’s almost-threats.

“And this girl,” Tywin spat, “would keep Dorne appeased?” His cold eyes raked over her. “More than your vengeance?”

Oberyn’s smile widened. “Why should I not have both?”

Tommen, surprising almost everyone present, turned to Y/N before either man could continue their verbal volley. “Lady Tully, what say you?”

Y/N tried to steel herself and focus on the young king. His gentle face was so soft and kind and so ready for her true answer, it steadied her thundering heart. Could she truly see a way out from under Tywin Lannister’s gaze and intentions? But what of Oberyn? His intentions were not clear. “Your Grace, I live to better the Realm. If my marriage to Prince Oberyn may help bring peace, I happily accept this arrangement.”

“You realize, Lady Tully,” Cersei nearly hissed her name, “that if you become a Princess of Dorne, you cannot be the Lady of Riverrun. You would be forfeiting your home.”

And that actually struck a chord within her. Riverrun was her home. But the Lannisters had dangled it in front of her like a carrot on a stick and had promised it would be hers—but then turned and twisted, saying she’d be Lady of Casterly Rock, only regaining her home if she produced a son. Two sons.

Her father had found a home in the Vale, hundreds of leagues away from the red brick of Riverrun. And she was Brynden Tully’s daughter. She would not beggar herself for a life she did not want to appease someone. He did not settle for the Redwyne woman. She would not settle for Casterly Rock.

“I understand,” Y/N said, her shoulders back. “Let the Freys have it.” The words rung out in the hall. The decision was made. For all the Realms to hear.

Tommen nodded and glanced at Margaery who brought their joined hands to her mouth to press a kiss to his knuckles. He took the parchment back from his grandfather and handed it over to Jaime and it was quickly placed back in Oberyn’s hands and tucked away again. “Very well. Lady Tully, Prince Oberyn, I see no reason as to stand in your way. May the Seven bless your union.”

There was a sudden cheer from the back of the Hall and Y/N turned to see the Dornish clapping and hollering for their Prince. Oberyn turned to her and held out a hand. His smile was so large and happy that she could not stop her own, even if it didn’t feel right. She placed her hand in his and he dragged her close before holding their clasped hands into the air. The happy cheers only grew louder. Y/N glanced to the side to see Olenna Tyrell looking at her, a finger over her smiling lips. She nodded and then clapped, too, and the assorted Tyrell retinue at her back joined in.

The cheers echoed in the hall and in her chest, reverberating against her beating heart. And she wanted to cheer with them, to scream to the heavens in thanks that she would not be chained to Tywin Lannister. But, as Y/N looked at Oberyn and his proud smile, she was not entirely sure she had not traded one life of shackles for another. And she knew she would be shackled. No matter how freeing life in Dorne may be, she would be shackled with her feelings for him. Shackled to feel something that was not reciprocated.

Their hands eventually lowered and he pulled her closer and led her out of the hall. People congratulated him as they walked by and the morning sun soon started to warm her skin as they stepped outside. He raised their joined hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss against her fingers as they descended the steps of the Keep. “My bride.”

“Yes,” she answered, “your bride.”

His grip suddenly tightened on her hand and he pulled her to a stop with a frown. “My Tully?”

Y/N glanced at him only for a moment, unable to look into his dark eyes for more than that. “Yes, My Prince?”

He let out a short breath through his nose and once again pulled her along, down the rest of the steps and then into a small, shadowed corner of the Keep’s walls. “What ails you?” He asked, voice soft.

And maybe it was the heat of the moment, or the high of being free from the Lannisters, or the emotional exhaustion she’d been feeling for the past week, but it bubbled over as she pulled her hand from his and quickly crossed her arms over her chest. “You have left me alone for two weeks. No word as to why. I thought you’d finished with me. Had your pleasures and made a fool of me with your pretty words and then left me to the lions.” She took care to keep her voice low so as to not let any passersby hear. “And now I do not truly know if you are doing this in some way to steal what Tywin Lannister thought was his property or a pittance.” Her chin wobbled—strange, she thought she had drained herself of tears.

Oberyn stepped back as if she’d pushed him. “That is what you think of me? That I have used you for gain against Tywin Lannister?”

“You spoke so sweetly and then refused to meet my eye. I felt like an idiot to not have seen it. How else am I to perceive this?”

Oberyn stepped near again and raised his hands as if to grasp her face but she recoiled and his hands dropped to his sides and curled into fists. “I have always been clear in my intentions since the beginning, My Tully.” Slowly, ever so slowly, he raised his hands again and gently took her face into his grasp. His dark eyes bored into hers with such intensity that she shivered, thinking they could see her soul. “I have always wanted you. I will want you until this world goes grey and the waters rise to wipe the earth clean.”

“But you-”

“I never meant to cause you heartache, My Tully. There are plots at work that I could not trouble you with—I would not put you in danger.” His smile was small and sad but he did not pull away from her. “I feared they would somehow break you and spoil everything.”

Y/N felt her face twisting in anger before she could stop it. She was tired, confused, and angry. Insulted. She pushed his hands away and once again folded her arms across her chest, ignoring how her sleeves brushed against his robes, how she could feel the heat of his skin. “Prince Oberyn, it was me who planned to save Sansa. It was me who knew to send her to Dorne. It was me who knew how to lie and plot and twist words to survive in this wretched city. And now you think to tell me that I cannot be told of your plan? If you do not trust me, simply say so. I can learn to live with that. But, I beg you, do not think of me as something easily broken.” The words sounded like a lie on her tongue. He had broken a little bit of her when he had left her in the dark. Whatever plan he had made, plot he had conjured, he hadn’t deemed her worthy of knowing. And that was what hurt the most. She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. “I shall be our wife. I will do my duties as a wife—but I will not force you to-to try to love me but I ask that you, at least, respect me enough-”

Oberyn grasped her arms and tugged her close. Berry-sweetened breath slid across her skin and hazed her mind. “No one can force me to do anything. If I did not want you as my wife, I simply would have smuggled you out of King’s Landing at nightfall and let you be, far away from the Lannisters who would use you for your name and what is between your legs. But I want you as my wife for my own reasons; your soft heart and fierce devotion to those you deem worthy of your affection. And I will have you.”

Y/N found herself twisting handfuls of his robe, not knowing when she had reached out, her fingers betraying her in the need to touch him.

“The gods could not take you from me.” He leaned ever closer. “But I shall win your heart again.” Oberyn said it so fiercely that she was almost scared. He hadn’t shouted. Hadn’t yelled. His voice was a calm, intense whisper that she felt in her bones. But her heartache and anger warred with her want of him and kept her quiet as he leaned into her and pressed a kiss to her throat, his facial hair scratching at her skin. Her traitorous heart leapt and sped its beat as he sighed against her throat. “You shall be my equal in every way. A Princess of Dorne.”

And she liked the sound of that. She did. But her heart still ached and burned and raged. Her hands that had found purchase in his robes gently pushed him back. “More pretty words.” Y/N curtseyed and ignored how his hands curled into fists again and walked around him and back into the Keep.

“My lady, Ellaria is here,” Daisy said as Y/N continued to collect her small trinkets from her vanity and place them into one of the open chests. The rest of her clothing and valuables were already folded and stacked, ready to be taken to the Dornish caravan in the next morning. The only items left unpacked were a dress that she would wear tomorrow and one of her smaller blades which she’d kept under her pillow, unwilling to pack it all away just yet. It was small, the sharp edge no larger than her palm, and the handle was inlaid with black and red gems and topped with a small silver trout. It had been a gift from her father for her ten-and-five nameday. (A silly gift that had Hoster scrunching his face in anger before he gave her a dress from the finest seamstress in the Riverlands.)

Today would be her last full day in King’s Landing before she left for Sunspear with the rest of the Dornish retinue at first light.

Y/N sighed and nodded. “Let her in.” She placed her last bottle of ink on a roll of leather before folding it and placing it beside her rolls of parchment and shutting the lid of the small chest. The remaining gold dragons inside jostled.

Daisy nodded and pulled the door open and Ellaria stepped in. Her daffodil-colored dress dipped so low in the front it left her belly button exposed to the air and her dark hair was twisted back with a golden pin shaped like a spear. A scarf of orange gossamer stitched with golden suns was draped over her shoulders. Y/N hated how her heart leapt when she looked at her. Still so lovely. Perhaps this would be easier if she had been hideous. But no, Y/N knew she had come to revel in Ellaria’s words and gentle heart—not just her beautiful face and body.

Daisy busied herself with continuing to pack away Y/N’s things as Ellaria closed the distance between them. She wordlessly reached out to Y/N and they sat on the edge of her featherbed. “You have a quiet sort of anger in your heart, My Tully.”

Y/N didn’t say anything but did not pull her hands from Ellaria’s hold.

“Oberyn only meant to shield you from-”

“He shouldn’t need to shield me from anything.” Y/N sighed. Her anger had settled into her bones. Ever present, but not on the surface. “And you knew, too. Of course you knew. The Prince trusts you implicitly.”

“There are greater things at work here, My Tully.”

“And I am just a pawn, I understand that. I do. But I would like to know what game I am playing.”

Ellaria chuckled. “You are going to make a fine Princess of Dorne.” She released her hands before trailing a finger down her neck and delighting in the shiver it coaxed out. “We will not apologize for trying to protect you. But we will do all can to have your heart in our grasp, again, just as you have ours.” Ellaria’s fingers slid down to her chest, pressing over her heart and smiling as she felt it beat. Then, she reached up to hook her finger around Y/N’s chin and turned her head and let her breath slide across her skin before she slowly, carefully, continued forward and pressed a kiss to Y/N’s lips. It was chaste and soft and still had Y/N’s poor heart leaping. And with the way Ellaria smiled against her mouth, she had felt it, too.

“That’s not fair,” Y/N mumbled. “You can’t kiss me like that.”

Ellaria pressed another kiss to Y/N’s cheek with a growing smile. “I don’t fight fair,” she whispered against her skin, uncaring of Daisy still going about her duties on the other side of the room. “I will do whatever is necessary to see you smile again.” She then stole yet another kiss against her cheek before she stood. She made her way to the door but stopped and turned back to look at Y/N as she sat on the bed, unmoving. “I will not rend any more tears from you, My Tully.” Her smile was soft and Y/N had to look away in fear she’d lose her resolve.

She wanted to forgive them. Let them gather her close and bask in their attentions again. But they’d hurt her, distrusted her—and she was still not completely sure that this was not a game for them.

The door clicked closed as Ellaria let herself out and Daisy, who had been folding the same dress over and over again in an attempt to look busy, quickly turned to her lady. “She’s quite a confusing one, isn’t she?”

Y/N sighed and waved Daisy over. Her handmaiden took her seat and Y/N basically collapsed into her hold. There were no tears. Not anymore. Just a hollow kind of ache that she could feel all the way down to her toes. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

Daisy hummed her assent. “I’ve put all my pretty things in a chest and Ser Daemon took it down for me this morning.”

Y/N chuckled. “Ah yes, Ser Daemon. Your dashing knight.” But it was still happy news that Daisy had jumped at the invitation to come to Dorne. Not that Y/N would ever leave her alone in King’s Landing.

“He isn’t my dashing anything, My Lady.” But Y/N could basically hear the blush and smile in her voice. “He is simply…”

“Simply,” Y/N played along, “who makes you smile? Warms your bed?”

“My lady!”

Y/N turned and looked up at Daisy with a small smile. “He makes you happy. It is not a sin to admit that. Happiness is…precious. Revel in it. Your heart has had its fill of grief.”

“You’re allowed to be happy, too, my lady.” Daisy started to comfortingly rub at her shoulder. “Do not deprive yourself of it.”

Y/N sighed but said nothing, head turning so she could look at the single rose that had arrived this morning, delivered by smiling Daemon. A poem had had been attached to it, just a handful of lines in smudged ink. It was beautiful, she supposed. Filled with words comparing her skin to petals.

More pretty words.

“I think you might be the only friend I have in the world, Daisy.”

“And I will be here beside you until you tire of me.”

“I could never tire of you.”

The pair sat there for a few stretched moments. It was the calmest Y/N had felt in weeks. A new chapter in her life was dawning. Dorne waited. It was not the story she had wanted or expected. But it was the one the gods deemed necessary. She would see Sansa again—that was a silver lining. And then, after she had her new title of Princess of Dorne, perhaps she could lead some sort of inquest into finding Arya. She could keep her mind busy and heart focused on family.

Maybe, if the gods willed it, she would take Cersei’s advice to heart. She would only love her children.

Would they have her hair? Oberyn’s dark eyes? His wit? Her inability to know when she’s been beaten? In a perfect world, her children would know nothing of her conflict or heartbreak. They would only know love.

A knock at her chamber door broke her reverie and Daisy squeezed her shoulder before answering it. Ella, the Tyrell girl, was on the other side and flanked by two handmaidens. “Queen Margaery has requested that you sup with her and Lady Olenna before you leave for Sunspear, Lady Tully. If you are agreeable.” Ella smiled.

Y/N rose and righted her skirts before nodding. “I’d be happy to.” She turned to Daisy. “Take the rest of the night to ready yourself for tomorrow. I’m sure I will need you every step of the way.”

Daisy nodded and excused herself, slipping by Daemon at the door with a smile that had the Tyrell handmaidens tittering.

“Please,” Y/N said to Ella, “lead the way.”

Margaery and Olenna were waiting at a large table in the main room, filled with berries and roasted carrots, wine, chicken smothered in gravy, and lemon cakes piled so high she thought they might collapse if she breathed near them. The meal shared was pleasant and, for once, not filled with plots or schemes or double meanings. Simply food shared between friends, if that is what they could be called. Eventually, they finished and Margaery drew Y/N into a hug. “You have been very good to my family, Lady Tully. I will not forget it.”

Y/N smiled, knowing that was a powerful promise. “Yes, well, I am always at your disposal, Your Grace.” She curtseyed and then turned to Olenna. “You as well, Lady Olenna. I wish you safe and swift travels back to Highgarden.”

Olenna stepped to her side and gently touched Y/N’s face. “You are going to be just fine, Little Fish. I promise you.”

Eventually, Ella and another handmaiden led Y/N back to her chambers and she bid them goodnight. It was getting late. She poked her head out of the door to look at her guards—Daemon and his usual comrade had been switched with another pair she did not recognize for the night. (There was a sneaking suspicion that Daemon kept volunteering to be Y/N’s guard to be nearer to Daisy as his was the only face she recognized.) “Sers, may I send for something for you to drink? Eat? I apologize that you have the final guard before the return to Dorne.”

Both of them shook their heads. “It is an honor to protect you, Lady Tully.”

Y/N sighed but pressed a smile to her face and thanked them both before closing the door and readying herself for bed. Her gut churned and she knew it wasn’t from the food. Before long travels, her nerves were always tightly wound. Ever since she was a little girl and was told she was being sent from the Vale to Riverrun, it felt like she swallowed a mouthful of pebbles, and the feeling returned every time she knew she would be on the road for longer than a handful of hours. The fact that she was to be married when this trip was completed was surely adding to her jumbled mess of emotions. She sat at her small vanity and dipped a cloth into the basin of water and dragged it across her cheeks and neck, removing the dust of the day.

The sound of scraping metal echoed in the hall.

Y/N stood and felt her heart leap into her throat. That terrible sound. She knew it too well.

She turned and slipped her hand under her pillow to curl around the small dagger. She crept toward the door and pressed her ear to the wood. The metal sound came again. Closer this time. Then again.

And again.

“Move aside.” Gregor’s voice was cold.

Y/N heard her guards unsheathe their swords. “No.”

There was a sudden metallic clash on the other side of the door—loud and jarring. She imagined swords clashing—only for a moment—before she heard the unmistakable gurgle of a man choking on his own blood. The bloodied end of a greatsword was thrust through the meat of the door and nearly had her toppling to the floor, clutching a bloody cheek. Blood dripped onto her dress from the sword in uneven drops.

She knew what was coming and tried to ready herself, calm herself for the coming storm. Hurried breaths slowed to careful pulls of air and curled fists relaxed as she hid her blade away in the hidden pocket of her long, bell sleeve.

The sword was wrenched back and the door thrust open and there stood Gregor Clegane, framed by the low light of the torches in the hall. He looked like a demon as she stared up at him, sneering and covered in blood. The bodies of her nameless guards were at his feet, both nearly hacked in two.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Tully.” His voice was low and sounded like gravel had imbedded itself in his throat. Gregor had left only his greaves and sabatons of his armor on and his sweat-stained tunic hung loosely about his barreled-chest—and even in her panicked mind, she knew she’d never see him more vulnerable. “You’re all mine now. Mine. Your pretty prince won’t want you anymore after I’ve had you. I’ll put a bastard in your belly.”

Y/N knew she needed to be smart. Knew she’d never be able to overpower him or beat him back. And he had just made it abundantly clear what his goal was. His meaty hands grabbed at her arms and hauled her close, his putrid breath nearly making her wretch.

“Not going to scream for me?” He asked with a jeer.

“No. That Dornish Prince is a vile snake. I will bear him no children. I would rather have a bastard of yours than a trueborn brat of his.” It felt like wildfire had been poured down her throat. And she just hoped it was what he wanted to hear as she tilted her head up like a woman of her status. “Let him know who took me first, Ser Gregor.”

His tongue hung out of his mouth and he licked his chops like a slobbering dog before he bent and licked a stripe up her neck. “All of the Seven Kingdoms will know.” He picked her up as if she weight no more than a babe and threw her onto her featherbed and quickly climbed over her, thighs as large as tree trunks bracketing her own. “I’ve always liked virgins. I like how they bleed.”

He bit at her shoulder and she suppressed a shudder and the bile she felt rising in her throat. She just needed him a little more relaxed.

“Will you bleed for me?”

His paw of a hand grasped at her breasts and pressed them down into her ribs and she bit at her lips to keep the scream at bay. Instead, she pushed out a soft moan and threw her arms around his neck.

“You’re already moaning like a whore.” He laughed. It sounded unnatural. “All you highborn ladies always moan. Except for that bitch Elia when I stuffed her full.” Calloused hands started to pull at her skirts as he continued to bite at her skin. He reached down to wrench her legs apart and move between them. “But she screamed so pretty when I grabbed her head and squeezed.”

Y/N’s heart clenched. He had admitted to murdering Elia Martell. All the rumors of how the princess’ final moments transpired had been for naught—a messy cover up.

His hips started to rut against hers and another wave of nausea rolled her stomach when she felt the press of his prick against her thighs. She delved into her sleeve and curled her fingers around the hilt of her dagger and braced. Just as he reached her underclothes, she sank the entire blade into the side of his throat and then yanked it forward, splitting open his neck. Warm crimson sprayed over her in a wave and soaked her through. “Bleed for me,” she said and his blood filled her mouth.

Gregor’s mouth opened and closed, spitting more blood onto her face. Even as his life flowed freely and quickly from the unstoppable wound, he reared back and smacked her across the face. Black dots spotted her vision instantly as a ringing muffled her ears. He moved to hit her again and Y/N rolled out from under him and off the bed. Her knees smacked against the stone floor and she scrambled to her feet and turned to see The Mountain pressing his hands to his throat, face twisted in a pale rage. He took a step toward her…then another.

Then collapsed.

Unmoving.

The door to her chambers burst open and she spun and held her dagger out, prepared to fight again.

“My Tully!” Oberyn was holding a spear out and ready but it quickly hung slack as his dark eyes took her in. Soaked in blood from the top of her head to edge of her skirts and with her cut cheek already swelling from The Mountain’s slap, she looked like she had clawed her way out of each of the Seven Hells. More Dornish guards and knights, Daemon included, followed their prince into her chambers. Swords brandished and shields at the ready.

Her grip on her dagger started to shake and it fell from her grasp, throwing small droplets of blood across the stone.

Daemon and another knight sheathed their swords and pushed over the body of Gregor, showing his face. “She’s killed The Mountain,” one of them whispered.

Oberyn dropped his spear and took a step closer to her and reached out slowly, keeping her shaking hands steady. His dark eyes searched hers, uncaring of the blood that caked her. “Breathe, My Tully. Breathe.” Carefully, he pulled one of her hands to his chest and took a breath. “Feel my heart. Breathe with me.” And his heart was a steady thrum under his warm skin and Y/N felt the tension leach from her shoulders even as her fingers continued to shake, smearing his skin with crimson. “There we go, My Tully. Breathe. It is over.”

Y/N nodded. The air tasted wrong as she pulled in a steadying breath. It took her a moment to realize that she was still tasting blood—hers or Gregor’s, she did not know. “He admitted it, my prince. He admitted to killing Princess Elia.”

Oberyn’s face dropped. “You heard him?”

She nodded and felt her lip tremble. “He-he came in and he…”

The prince wrapped her in his arms and held her tight. “You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. Not to me,” he whispered in her ear.

“But I do. I do have to tell you. I had to pretend to want it, to want him.”

“Did he touch you?” Oberyn’s voice was ice and she burrowed closer to his chest.

“He tried. I opened his throat before he could.”

His grip tightened over her and she shut her eyes as she noticed the room continuing to fill with more people—more guards, more knights, the Kingsguard were filing in. All of them were talking about how The Mountain was dead, how she was covered in blood, how there were two dead Dornishmen at the door. All of it was swirling together into a terrible scream in her ears. She wanted to disappear into Oberyn’s hold. “You gave me something I have yearned and ached for.” Oberyn said quietly, barely heard over the din of the conversation around them.

Y/N’s brow pinched as she looked up at him. “My prince, I have given you nothing-”

“Revenge, My Tully. You have killed the man who killed my dear sister, Elia, and her children. You had him confess it.” His smile was small but still tugged at her heart. “But I am sorry it came at such a cost to you. You do not deserve such brutality.”

Y/N managed to smile despite the throbbing pain that she just noticed stemming from her injured cheek. “I am glad I was able to ease your heart’s burden, my prince.” Her words were true despite the anger she still felt.

Oberyn did not release his hold. “No one will ever touch you again. Not while there is air in my lungs.”

A/N: The next chapter will finally see our Tully to Dorne, along with a few familiar faces. Please let me know what you think!

Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @roxypeanut @lostinwonderland314 @fandomreblogsnoshame

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x ellaria sand x reader #game of thrones imagine #oberyn martell

247 notes · View notes