#as i’ve noted on my pinned post i’m going through a lot and it’s been escalating and escalating for like 2 years now. since the pandemic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

showrunnerihardlyknowher · 1 year

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girl yeeeesssss spill the fucking tea 😫 don't go hiding that drama in the tags

Okay, so originally I wasn’t going to say anything because I did not have the energy or desire to rehash all of this to a community that I hardly interact with besides post-dumping every ~4 months. But then, ironically, two people DM’d me about this this week and now I’m feeling spiteful again, so let me regale you with the cringe tales of the Tumblr g/t community and why it gives me a headache to think about. And you know what? This bitch is being a pinned post, too, because I’m not going to let it be swept under the rug anymore. I’m rocking the boat, I’m naming names, I’ll be a little goblin starting dumpster fires.

Now, I will say there are definitely further issues in the community that I can’t personally speak on – rampant racism, transphobia, etc. That’s not to say these things aren’t happening or aren’t important to bring attention to, but I am not someone who witnessed it firsthand or experienced it. In my handful of years being active in this community, they are topics that have been brought up a fair few times, which is enough of a sign that it’s an ongoing issue. However, I also have not looked at any g/t related tags in almost a year, so whether or not these discussions are still happening or have been relatively resolved, I don’t know. It’s not my place to talk about them in depth when I would have no idea what I’m talking about or what to reference, in which case I implore others who have unfortunately dealt with this to please speak out about it. There’s other drama I am able to talk about because I went through it myself or by proxy, and so that’s only what I’m going to be relaying in this post.

I feel like the most infamous implosion was the GTMS/Chamomile-g-tea debacle from half a year or so back, but at the same time based on the messages and DM’s I’ve received, it seems like…a lot of people have forgotten about that, or at least weren’t around/invested enough to know what happened. The quick recap is that @unicornofgt created a written series about giant mech suits that were actually powered by giant humans in a post-apocalyptic setting, inspired by a post made by our shared friend bolshoycorvid about Pacific Rim. It grew into a fairly well known series in the community, and while I had only read the first chapter, I still at least recognized it from my mutuals and some of the tags.

And then Cham found it and became utterly obsessed with it, pumping out fanart left and right and opening the floodgates for its popularity. And that’s so cool! That’s great that such a talented artist with a large following genuinely enjoys someone else’s work that much, and is introducing it further to the fanbase for people to read! It’s amazing to get that kind of feedback to know people want to make art of your handcrafted characters because they adore them that much, it’s one of the best compliments a writer can get!

Except Cham really started getting into it. Like, helping-create-two-Discord-servers-without-permission, kind of into it. Like, posting-fanart-on-multiple-platforms-without-source-credit, kind of into it. Like, repeatedly-responding-to-messages-about-the-characters-without-consulting, kind of into it. And when I tell you her art for the main characters were everywhere, I mean they were everywhere, not just in the Tumblr g/t community. Tiktok, Twitter, Instagram, they were posted, and they were never credited back to unicornofgt. I had friends send me her animatics of it, gushing about how amazing it was, totally unaware that it was a storyboard to the first chapter of GTMS (which I recognized and told them, at least).

And was unicornofgt mentioned in any of these posts, was their fic linked, was it even noted that these weren’t her original creations she was spamming to every platform? Nope. Not a word. They actually had to repeatedly ask Cham to credit them as she continued to drop the ball, and even so it was too little too late, finally coming in the few weeks before unicornofgt put a stop to it altogether. Some platforms would only allow an additional note to be added via comment, which was often missed or drowned out by the sea of other messages. Other places like Tumblr could allow a full body edit, however that did nothing for the hundreds of reblogs that were already circulating without a link back to unicornofgt, and are still out there, even if unicornofgt had Cham delete her GTMS posts.

And naturally, if you’re not in the already niche Tumblr community, and even if you’re new to said community, you would have no idea! You would see her post these characters, answer questions about details for these characters, maybe even be invited by Cham to one or both of the two Discord servers for these characters (of which unicornofgt was a member of, but more often than not still not addressed for their story as Cham would take over and talk about GTMS when they were not online to agree/disagree) – Of course you’d naturally assume these are her characters and her story, and even if you knew different, you might become one of the many people swept up in the fandom environment created by Cham, which treated her as the forefront of it.

And please, don’t think I’m taking this out of context. Understand that unicornofgt DM’d me about all of this before they eventually abandoned their Tumblr a while ago due to this situation and the rampant bigotry in the community , and you can read their farewell post here. They told me about the growing anxiety and morphing disdain they felt when it came to their series, because it felt like that creative freedom had been robbed, pressured to morph their original vision to appease Cham, even at the expense of their own passion for GTMS. They felt unheard, ignored, and pushed aside while Cham got to reap the benefits of their own hard work to bring it into existence in the first place. No matter how much they spoke about it in private with Cham or openly on the two Discord servers (they had never wanted in the first place), it didn’t matter.

They told me about the instances in which they had multiple talks with Cham about this crossing boundaries, but ultimately not feeling they could enforce them because as a meager content creator, they should feel grateful that someone so popular was giving their work as much attention as it was getting. Friends and followers agreed with that sentiment because more and more people were becoming unaware who the true creator was, and it seemed on the surface unicornofgt consented. They told me about how Cham had to be repeatedly told to stop and redirect any questions relating to GTMS to unicornofgt, instead of taking it upon herself to answer them, as a majority of the time whatever she said was at best a bad rehashing of unicornofgt’s own explainations that watered down unicornofgt’s characters to “silly stupid little incompenant man” and “big badass woman who loves him sooo much”, and completely ignored bolshoycorvid’s characters altogether. Sure, to Cham’s benefit, she would back down…for a little while, and then start those habits all over again and ignore what was previously requested, especially during the mini internet breaks unicornofgt would have to take since the pressure gave them further fatigue, contributing to their pre-existing chronic health problems.

Let’s not forget the free for all fandom that was created as well. Anyone with questions/comments/concerns all went straight to Cham and rarely to unicornofgt. Art requests, ideas or what-ifs, AUs – all to Cham. Her friends and mutuals straight up telling bolshoycorvid that they’ve never read their GTMS fics despite them being a fair chunk of the overarching universe, simply because they were hardly acknowledged in Cham’s art and frequent posting. The influx of underaged users coming in to join the fun and the Discord servers, which unicornofgt had already said they were uncomfortable with and had wanted the main server to at least be 18+ (a request that was, once again, ignored by Cham, who irresposibily never checked the ages of new users to the point any and all of her mod privileges were revoked and all invites were turned off). So many problems came from having those kids in an 18+ space, essentially taken over by Cham, that unicornofgt decided to pull the plug on the entire server and cut finally Cham off a week later.

From my understanding, this fandom behavior was even worse on Twitter to the point the GTMS characters were selected to be used in a roleplay tournament. The host reached out to Cham for her opinion of character authenticity during the rounds, while others were asking if they could use her art/comics for voice acting. Meanwhile Cham sent all of these to unicornogft because she thought it was funny, but didn’t reiterate to any of these people that these were NOT her characters and if they wanted permission from the creator, they needed to reach out to unicornofgt. Even when unicornofgt tried to pass on this message, it was ignored by Cham’s little fandom, who continued to view her as the creative authority.

But even worse than Twitter was the Tiktok, where many of Cham’s GTMS videos went semi-viral, still leaving her sitting pretty at 18k followers while neither unicornofgt or bolshoycorvid saw any of it. Hundreds of comments gushed about the art, meanwhile both the true creators were lost in it. Eventually Cham didn’t even ask permission before posting, not bothering to check if it was true to the characters, but why stop to think when those videos are getting views up to 250k, with all the comments telling you they adore you and your work? It is your work, right?

What’s so insane to me is that you would think for such a talented artist, she would know the value of being properly credited for your work, especially fanwork across multiple platforms. But no, it had to be explained to her the importance of crediting the real creators of these characters in her posts, and the highly contrasting way people consume art, quick and easy to appreciate, vs writing, which takes more time to consume and appreciate. This isn’t some multi-billion dollar international franchise that’s universally recognized at a glance like DC/Marvel. This was a fun little series created between friends and shared with a small community as something new to enjoy for a little while. It’s not a licensed IP, it’s someone’s personal pet project that they enjoy. It’s completely unreasonable to assume a rando on Twitter is going to look at a badass pose of a giant woman and know that it at least came from an obscure series from an obscure fandom by a single person who was just trying to have fun on the internet. Hell, even 4chan users on the hentai board ask for sources all the time, to know who created these characters they’re jacking off to so that they can go check out their other work!!

Instead, you try to get the source for a GTMS fanart, you likely get Cham, and from Cham you get…no one. Because she failed over and over to make reference that it belonged to anyone else, via tags or in the text body, until long after it was too late with an edit. And there’s no sense in trying to beat around the bush, that’s borderline art theft. You took a character word for word, design for design, setting for setting, and sold it off as your own. It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t your intention, that you were ignorant of the consequences – it’s what happened and it needs to be owned up to. This isn’t a petty squabble between two teens on fanfic.net about a demonsona OC for Sonic Underground, this is an adult making a conscious decision to post content of something that doesn’t belong to her and not give an ounce of credit. Not only that, it just furthers the divide between artists and writers in a creative space, with the latter hardly ever getting their dues for putting in their effort for a written piece that an artist can doodle in 15 min.

It was like creating a spectacle out of smoke, a flimsy foundation that was bearing its full weight down on the mental and emotional health of the person who actually created it. In a matter of months unicornofgt had gone from a simple writer of funny size difference things to being forced to watch their vision be watered down for the sake of uwu soft giantess wholesomeness, none of it being done by their hand.

And I think the worst part about all of this, after this whole mess finally came to light thanks to unicornofgt finally finding the courage to put their foot down and cut Cham off completely (both as a friend and for having permission to make anything GTMS related in the future), is that it was unicornofgt who had to leave this platform. It was bolshoycorvid who had to leave, in part for other reasons, but because they were also snuffed during this fiasco as well as both a co-creator and someone who had their own canon OCs/fics in the GTMS world. It was other friends and mutuals who left because they couldn’t stand the toxicity of this fandom anymore, the hypocrisy, the sheer lack of critical thinking and the inability to hold people accountable for their actions. GTMS was essentially abandoned after the dumpster fire was put out and that was it. The series that everyone seemed to fawn over and adore was forgotten at the drop of a hat.

Why? Because it wasn’t the written fics or unicornofgt that everyone was attached to; it was Cham’s art and her version of an OOC story she was pushing they loved. And once she stopped posting it, that was it. Dead in the water. Absolutely tainted. Can you blame unicornofgt for not wanting to touch their own creation that they had made from the ground up and put so much thought and energy into, all because it had been essentially stolen and ruined by someone with a much larger following? A following that hit over 20K during Cham’s GTMS reign across multiple platforms , might I add, while unicornofgt was lucky to see a fraction of that for the same concept.

I also want to note again that these are retellings told directly to me from the persons involved, including unicornofgt prior to their leaving, former fans, and Discord members, that I am airing with their permission. I’m also not someone who has a lot of social media or who followed GTMS at all, this is almost entirely coming from the creator (the REAL creator) in the time before they left, their experience dealing with the fallout, and the sentiment that even still they don’t hate Cham, but just wish there was even a single legitimate consequence on Cham’s part (and that non stop self bashing at the rescue of yes-men does not count). And it hurts to see a fellow g/t content creator be so scarred from this, to lose all interest in the things they cared about most and only wanted to share with their friends, due to one person’s inability to stop and think about their actions. And sure, maybe this is old drama, maybe it’s small and petty to still bring up, but it doesn’t seem like anyone else is going to pull back the rug that this was swept under, so it might as well be the local menace to the community to make a long ass post about it. Chamomile-g-tea killed an entire series and drove the creator, the co-creator, several fans and several more friends who also made g/t content off of an entire website because she couldn’t be bothered to not feel entitled to other people’s toys.

I lost a lot of good friends as a result of this, and the g/t community lost a lot of good content creators as well, to the point this really was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me to say fuck it. To sit here and watch my mutuals abandon their Tumblr’s and all their works in favor of avoiding Cham and her followers who keep pretending she did nothing wrong, acting like her excitement justified her “promotion” of the story, never holding her accountable and accepting at face value her claims that she had no idea the distress she was creating, letting her act as if she’s the victim of this whole ordeal – nah, chief. It didn’t matter if it was on purpose or not, it still happened, and she was allowed to get away with it scot-free, so I will continually throw this in everyone’s face so that the g/t community never forgets its track record .

Because I really don’t understand how this entire community can go through the same run around of “is fearplay/petplay morally wrong to create in a place full of minors” (which is another debate I am NOT getting into right now) and cause several blogs to abandon ship over the backlash they received…but a well known artist forces a popular series to be discontinued and runs off the original creator and their friends after she stole their concept, and everyone is just like “damn, that sucks, she just got too excited /:” and pretends it’s nothing? There have been plenty of former blogs that were called out for less and were forced to be accountable for whatever fuckery they were doing. Besides, I thought we were supposed to be thinking about the poor children here, the sweet minors, which was what her wholesome SFW blog catered to. Last I heard from one of her followers she started posting softcore GTS (I wouldn’t know, I have literally 0 desire to scout her blog), which sure, go ham bestie with your titties and light crushing, we all know I’m an 18+ blog.

But then she continues to interact and mass reblog from minors and bring them into her inner circle, sooo…which is it? Are we worried about corrupting the kids or not? Do minors have the ability to use critical thinking about what concepts are right or wrong, or not? Are people accountable for what they post or is it the responsibility of the viewers who need to heed the tags? Y’all don’t get to have it both ways. Not to mention, I will reiterate again, she never verified anyone’s ages and let them in freely to what was intended to be an 18+ space on the GTMS servers, which created PROBLEMS to the point the servers had to be shut down.

Everyone else can sit around thinking she got off scot-free and never needing to address the fact she destroyed an entire series beyond a meaningless sorry, but I’m not going to forget, even if I’m still the only one left from that era and friend group to be able to tell this side of the story. That hurt my friends just as much as it hurt the community to lose such incredible writers and their beloved content, and that’s inexcusable to me. Writers in general are already treated awful, especially in the g/t community, to the point people have the audacity to complain there’s no new content to enjoy after all the good writers got fed up with the lack of recognition. Art and writing are two different mediums and they both require an insane amount of talent to pull off beautifully – just because you can enjoy a pretty picture in 15 seconds versus a plot-rich fic in twenty-five minutes does not make one superior to the other. But if those fics are continually pushed aside, then why would any creator waste their hours and days and weeks and months making a story for no one to see?

Writing out concepts and ideas are a labor of love that are graciously shared to YOU to also enjoy. Trust me, I have no problem keeping an idea to myself or to be tossed back and forth to my friends for fun, it’s far less effort to still ‘see’ whatever story I would have jotted down for 20K words. If the community is going to continue treating writers like shit, as demonstrated through this hot mess, then of course no one is going to stick around to deal with it. A talented writer lost the world they built, the characters they developed, the story they were trying to tell, to one single artist, yet they were the one who had to pack it up and call it quits after getting hit with hate, while the other gets to roll in the second hand clout from un-credited posts across various platforms to further their own artistic career.

And frankly, I don’t really care about what kind of reception this post has; if it’s only seen by 5 people or if it’s seen by Cham herself, if people agree or disagree vehemently with it. This blog is also more or less dead aside from the few times a year I drop a new fic or art, so feel free to scream into its void as much as you want lmao

#g/t #g/t community #gtms #so anyways yeah fuck the g/t community all my homies hate the g/t community #and there's soooooo so so so much more drama that i didn't even touch here #because my main thing was about cham and i started getting more and more heated as i wrote this lmao #but i also prob won't be talking about those other dramas either because i just cannot bring myself to care anymore #if the last thing i do here is to bring light to this situation than so be it #idk i dont rly have much to say besides that i miss my friends and i miss the good times of 2019/20 and i miss the vibes

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swindle-comic · 1 year

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As Swindle comes off of hiatus, I (Artsy) would just like to say a few things.

I firstly just want to say a big personal thank you to everyone who’s been so patient during this hiatus. I’ve been dealing with a lot over the months that this comic hasn’t been updating and I’m still just keeping my head above water as it is. To those who are so empathetic, so kind, so understanding, thank you. You guys are a big reason why I continue working on this comic, and I am really excited for you to see where the story goes.

Lord knows that I’ve dedicated more than enough time complaining about the small but vocal group of people who have been rude - sometimes excessively so - to both Lolly and I as we work on this comic, and I’d like to not spend a terribly long time dwelling on it, here. I probably won’t mention if for a long while after this post. At the same time, it’s worth noting that we’ve done a lot to try to discourage and manage this behavior with... mixed results. We’ve blocked people for repeated rude behavior, we’ve banned people from our Discord server for rude behavior, we’ve closed our askbox during the hiatus, we’ve introduced an FAQ - and people have evaded being blocked by making throwaway accounts, and we’ve had an incident of an individual making a new Discord account to evade a ban, and people don’t read our FAQ. It’s all really frustrating.

I think, for now, at least, we’re going to only open our askbox to non-anons - though this won’t do too much to prevent throwaways, it’ll at least convolute the means through which people can harass us. So apologies to the shy but kind individuals who had been using anon peacefully, maybe sometime we’ll open it back up again.

Additionally, I’ll like to just once again ask for anyone who hasn’t to check out FAQ, please. It’s in our pinned post for a reason.

Somewhat related to that - mostly that it’s something that’s been covered in the FAQ, is that I’ve noticed an increasing number of people who have been saying they discovered the comic via re-uploads on tiktok and pintrest.

And. Wow. That hurts. It hurts to know, to think about. I know it’s inevitable, trust me, I know this is just the inevitable result of posting anything on the internet, but god, it sucks.

I don’t know how many of you following this blog are artists, but it’s a big long topic that I don’t really have the space or patience to lay out for all of you in this post - this is art theft. We do not allow, we say it right in our FAQ point-blank, we do not allow people to reupload the comic elsewhere. Dubs are fine, again, we’ve covered this, they’re transformative, they offer an experience unique to just reading the comic. But un-voiced reuploads that do nothing but present the comic in a slideshow? That’s stealing. It’s hurtful, and it’s wrong. Both Lolly and I have dealt many times with our work being stolen and we’ve made our stances on reuploads of our work pretty clear on our own blogs.

Please, if you see someone doing this, report them. The only “official” accounts for the comic are this blog and our promotional Instagram page, swindle.comic. If an account is uploading the comic, un-dubbed, they do no have permission to do so, and they need to be reported.

I really don’t expect this to be the last time I have to say something like this or about this, because I know that this comic is going to take a long time to complete and so we’ll always have newcomers who can’t reasonably be asked to sift through the entire blog for posts like these. But for now, I hope it helps keep the interaction with this comic more respectful. I don’t think the people who do this stuff even realize that their behavior literally makes this comic more draining to work on than it should be (which leads to more burnout and hiatuses) - or I wouldn’t be making posts like this at all, because if they did know, they therefore wouldn’t care, and telling them would be pointless. So I hope this serves as a decent reminder that we’re human beings, and we and our work deserves to be respected.

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theforgottenmcrmy · 1 year

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Scars (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is an overall Part 16 to the series Growing Strong. The masterlist, and part 1, can be found on the pinned post on my profile. Tumblr is being mean and is not letting me post it here. :( ᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, mentions of death of previous characters, thoughts about characters having previously unalived someone(s), subtle but still there references to miscarriage

Summary: But did you even dare to go back that far? If you did, at what point would you realize that you and Harwin had been puppets controlled by Larys’s strings for years?

A/N: As always, thank you all who have continued to read and support this story🖤🖤🖤 the kind words are really encouraging me to see this through to the end.

I'm sorry for the delay. This chapter's a bit of a doozy length wise, so I hope that helps compensate for the temporary absence. I think I've said it before, but just in case and for reference- I did age up the boys a bit. Luke/Selwin are around 14-15ish, and Jace/Derrik are 16, almost 17. This chapter's a little bit heavy still in regards to the topics, since there was a lot of sh*t that went down last chapter, so please be aware. But it ends with two POVs centered on characters I haven't gotten to write a whole lot for yet, so there's a little change of pace there.

I hope you enjoy, and that you have a good rest of the week/weekend!🖤🖤🖤

To Lord Larys, Master of Whisperers The Traitor of House Strong:

Strength from honor.

Though a viper wears his skin, my brother is dead. You are unworthy of the name Strong, for weakling kinslayers are the most dishonorable of us all.

May the gods have mercy on you, for I will not.

Lyonel Strong shall be avenged.

King Viserys Targaryen, the first of his name, was dead.

As you stepped out onto the deck of one of Lord Darklyn’s several ships, that was the primary thought that reverberated within your mind.

Almost immediately, you spotted a few of Lord Darklyn’s men- the ones carrying out essential tasks to keep the ship sailing- but, like the rest of your traveling party, most of them were below deck, presumably asleep. Still, you would not be deterred. You wandered about aimlessly, your footfalls creating taps upon the planks beneath your feet, while the hull of a hip as a whole groaned as it cut through the waves.

Above you, the red, white, gold, and black banner of House Darklyn flew proudly. The rippling of the billowing sail joined the rocking waves and the croaking of the hull of the ship in filling the air of the otherwise silent night.

By the time you, Harwin, and the rest of your men had reached Duskendale, the young Lord Gunthor Darklyn had already set sail for Dragonstone. But his wife, the Lady Meredyth Darklyn, was as gracious a host as her husband. She apologized for his sudden departure, but insisted that time had been of the essence. To compensate for this, Lady Meredyth had extended the same protection her husband had offered your children and the rest of your party in Harwin’s temporary absence. Once you had reconvened with the rest of your party in Duskendale, she had offered you the use of one of her husband’s ships.

You had set sail for Dragonstone at once, despite it having been in the middle of the night.

Even now, you were still indebted to Lord Darklyn, as the ship sailed through the Narrow Sea under the protection of his house’s sigil. Any ships you happened across would be none the wiser to the guests currently aboard Lord Darklyn’s vessel. Most of your own banners had been destroyed back in Duskendale- save for two, one for House Tyrell, and one for House Strong. Once the ship neared Dragonstone, the two banners would be flown, but in the meantime, they’d been tucked away below deck. Being intercepted and caught with those in your possession could spell a great deal of trouble for all involved. The banners could be replaced; the lives of you and your traveling party could not.

It appeared that neither House Darklyn’s hospitality or generosity had been overstated by Princess Rhaenyra.

…

Queen Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra was now queen. The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

And King Viserys was dead. No man lived forever, but the implications of his passing had weighed heavily on your mind for many years. Now that the said implications lay right beneath your feet, you found yourself able to think of little else.

But of course, that was not the only thing that plagued your mind. There were the lifeless eyes of Ser Vaemond Velaryon. There was also the man whose face you did not know, but whose blood was on your hands. Several more troubling, if not downright terrifying, things.

…

You were pulled from your near-suffocating thoughts upon seeing the back of a familiar stature across the deck. The figure, donning his cloak, was facing away from you, looking out towards the sea.

Harwin.

You had awoken from a dreamless sleep to find the space on the bed beside you empty, and had suspected to find your husband here. However, that was not the sole reason you had chosen to rise from bed yourself. With all the thoughts plaguing your mind, it was little wonder that any sort of decent sleep had yet to find you that night. You had hoped, perhaps naively so, that a bit of fresh air would help calm you.

You were tempted to go to him, but without much deliberation at all, decided against it. It was best to leave Harwin to his own thoughts, at least for the time being. The horrid realization you had all made only a few short days ago impacted him more than anyone else.

You turned away from Harwin and took up post by the closest railing. With your hands firmly pressing into the wood beneath your fingers, you lifted your chin and looked up to the sky.

It was dark, but littered with a copious amount of stars. The moon, nearly full, provided one of the only sources of light around for several leagues. A few sparsely lit torches provided some guidance for those on the ship, but beyond that, it was nearly impossible to tell what lay ahead.

But you knew what was waiting for you. You may not have been able to see it yet, even if you were standing in the rays of the sun instead of the moon. You knew the predetermined destination that the ship would reach early on the morrow.

Dragonstone.

“Mother?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, despite the softness of your eldest son’s voice, for you had not even heard him approach. Your skirts rippled from the light wind and from the movement as Derrik came to stand beside you.

“Derrik,” you greeted him as you regained your composure. “What keeps you awake? The hour grows late.”

Derrik shrugged nonchalantly. He looked out and over the dark sea, just as you had a moment before, and refused to meet your eyes. “The same things as you, I suppose.”

He placed his hands on the railing to steady himself. As he did so, you stood up straight, mentally preparing yourself for what was sure to be an interesting, and perhaps challenging, conversation with your eldest son.

“I cannot stop thinking of what happened,” Derrik clarified. “About what could have happened… and what has yet to pass.”

You looked away, joining him in focusing upon the crashing waves as your guilt began to eat away at you once again.

After your near encounter with the Stranger, which was prevented only by the timely arrival of Harwin and several of his own men, you had made for Duskendale with great haste. When you arrived, your sons, who were well aware of the King’s abrupt passing and your obvious delay to rejoin them, were among those who gathered inside the gates of the Dun Fort to greet you.

The only comfort you could take from that moment was that Brynna had opted to stay within the keep with Luciya, and that your youngest had been spared from seeing you in such an alarming state.

“I should have ridden out with Father,” Derrick asserted, his voice suddenly severe. His knuckles whitened as his grip on the railing in front of him tightened with his conviction. “I would have been of far more use than I was in Duskendale, merely sitting around and waiting for you to return.”

You shook your head vehemently. “I would not have wished what we encountered on the road upon anyone, let alone you, Derrik.”

What a sight you must have been, riding through Duskendale and up to the gates of the Dun Fort with Harwin riding beside you, and the rest of your men flanking you on all sides. You could not have prevented Derrik and Selwin, who had joined those gathered to receive you, from seeing the ghastly amount of blood on your dress. But you so desperately wished you could have.

Derrik and Selwin were intelligent; in light of everything else, and the fact that you insisted that you were well and uninjured, it was easy enough for them to infer that something foul had befallen you.

“You’ve said so little about what actually happened… I can tell you do not wish to speak of it,” Derrik inferred, ever astute. “But, when you do wish to speak of it, I hope you know that I am here for you, Mother.”

You smiled sadly, sincerely touched by the gesture. “A generous offer, Derrik. But I would not burden you with it anymore than I already have.”

“You are my mother, not a burden.”

“I have your father I can speak to about it, when I am ready to do so.”

Derrik turned to look at you imploringly. “And who does he have?”

You turned, matching his stern and searching gaze. “He has us.”

Shortly after entering the Dun Fort, Derrik and Selwin had bombarded you with questions. You and Harwin had no choice but to take them straight to the chambers that Lord Darklyn had prepared for the both of you. Your sons deserved to know, no matter how difficult it was for you and Harwin to share, and for them to hear. You had sat them down, and proceeded to tell them the harrowing discovery that had been brought to light. When words began to fail Harwin, you had found them for him.

But you had spared your sons some of the details, for you could not bring yourself to admit that you had killed a man by your own hand. Even now, the dagger with which you had carried out the act was strapped to your side, hidden beneath your cloak. Despite the repulsiveness you intermittently felt about what you had done, you did not dare to go anywhere without the dagger in reach.

Derrik and Selwin may not have been told the entirety of what happened to you and your escort on the road. But they knew the core, fundamental truth.

Their uncle, Larys Strong, had betrayed you all.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what is running through Father’s mind.” Derrik looked away from you. Even from his side profile, you could tell that the look that washed over his face was a dark one. “The thought of Selwin doing something like that…” He shook his head. “‘Tis impossible to fathom.”

The thought of doing such a thing to Derrik’s namesake, your elder brother Derron, was impossible for you to fathom as well. You spared a glance over your shoulder, seeing that Harwin remained where you had seen him a few moments before, with his back still facing the two of you.

Your heart wrenched for him.

Harwin’s own brother, Larys, had attempted to kill your entire family in the Harrenhal fire. He had succeeded in killing their father, Lord Lyonel Strong, that very night. And, for reasons still not fully known to either of you, Larys had attempted to claim your life for a second time. The situation would be immensely difficult for anyone to fully comprehend, let alone someone like Harwin, who had always regarded his family, particularly his younger brother, as very dear to him.

There weren’t words fitting enough to describe what such a betrayal must have felt like.

“My uncle will pay,” Derrik vowed, his tone low and grave. “Justice will be served. Not only for Grandsire’s life, but for the attempts on all of our own. And he will answer for any other atrocities he may have committed, but which have yet to come to light.

How deep did your Good Brother’s foul plots run? … If Larys had been responsible for the fire at Harrenhal, then what of your brother, Lord Derron, and his mysterious sudden death? … And just where had your cousin Lord Garrett Redwyne, who had never been particularly ambitious, gotten the notion that the lordship of House Tyrell was available for the claiming after Derron’s passing? … And what of the misunderstanding that led to Lord Loreon Lannister accosting you the night before your wedding feast?

But did you even dare to go back that far? If you did, at what point would you realize that you and Harwin had been puppets controlled by Larys’s strings for years?

You nearly gagged.

“Do not allow your thirst for vengeance to consume you,” you pleaded with Derrik instead. “Doing so will blind you to most everything else. This is a dangerous time, and we need to be more present and aware of our surroundings than ever before.”

“Will there be war?”

You regarded him carefully.

Derrik had favored Harwin in looks more than he had ever favored you. But as to who he was, the person within- when you looked at Derrik, it often felt as though you were staring at your own reflection. Despite all the evidence suggesting the very conclusion that he had surmised, a gleam of small, yet indisputably hopeful optimism still clouded his hazel eyes. It was the same optimism a younger version of yourself had once held proudly- before the realities of the harsh world you lived in had forced you to abandon most of it.

Lying to Derrik would do him no favors. But neither would throwing him to the wolves.

You proposed, albeit half-heartedly, “Bloodshed is likely to be the last resort, not the initial course of action. The Queen may yet offer the Usurper generous terms.”

“Which he will undoubtedly reject, no matter how fair they may be,” Derrik denounced bitterly. “And what then? Will blood be spillled?”

Your small smile faded. “Mayhaps.”

Derrik nodded stiffly, and clenched his jaw.

“Nothing will happen to you,” you promised him quickly, wanting to dissuade any of his concerns. “Your father and I would not allow you anywhere near a battlefield.” Let alone one where dragons survey the skies above.

“I’m all but ten and seven, Mother, and a fair swordsman at that. Should war come, I will do my duty to defend our Houses, and our Queen.” Before you could protest, Derrik added, “But it is not myself whom I worry about… It’s you.”

You blinked, not having expected such a declaration from him.

Seeing your confusion, Derrik elaborated, “I worry for you. For Father. Selwin. Luciya. And everyone else dear to me. If the realm goes to war, you will all be in danger… And I am but one person. How can I ensure that all of you will be safe?”

A bittersweet smile played on your lips. You reached out and grabbed Derrik’s hand that was closest to you. “My Heart, it is not your job to protect us. It is your father and I’s responsibility to look after you. Though I am touched you feel so strongly about this, you are too young to shoulder such a heavy burden, so I bid you not.”

“I am all but ten and seven, Mother,” Derrik said for the second time, his patience never wavering.

Ten and seven. You had been so close to his age when you had first come to King’s Landing, all those years ago. That one event had set you all on the path that led you to be right where you were, at that precise moment. An ominously calm moment, on the precipice of something. War? Most possibly. Something far greater, by the way of the reign of the first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms? If the gods had any pity left for you, maybe.

“If anything should happen to you, what would I do?” Derrik wondered despondently. “Who would I be without my family?”

You pushed the dark thoughts down and away from the forefront of your mind. “You would be you, Derrik. You would be the young man your father and I raised. An intelligent, courteous, and loyal young man.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you pressed on.

“All this talk is premature,” you insisted earnestly, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “None of us can truly know what lies ahead, so there is little use in dreading it. Brace yourself for it, if you must. But do not burden yourself with worries that may never come to pass.”

Derrik mused over your words for a few moments, before eventually giving you a conceding nod.

You felt encouraged that your words had begun to resonate with him, even if they did not serve a dual purpose in alleviating your own worries. “I think you will feel more settled on the morrow, once we reach Dragonstone. We will be under Princess -the Queen’s- protection then. We will reaffirm our loyalty to her cause, and see how best we can serve it.”

“And then?”

… And what then?

You did not know.

Would second-born sons always be meant to bring doom upon their families?

Harwin was reluctant to put any merit into such an unprovable and unfair generalization, but he had truly begun to wonder.

King Viserys’s first born son, though also the second of all his children, was a usurper. The actions of his staunchest supporters and his mindless willingness to go along with them had put the entire realm right on the brink of war. By his failure to reject the ambitions of those around him, he had robbed his elder sister of her birthright. A birthright their shared father desired for no one else but her. He was a fool, and such foolishness had enabled him to become a witless participant in a scheme beyond his comprehension and traitor to the realm.

Harwin’s father, Lyonel Strong, was a second son. Had his uncle, Lyonel’s older brother, not been taken by the Stranger at such a young age, and without heirs of his own, his father most likely would have been alive, even to this day. Regardless, Lyonel would not have been encouraged to produce heirs of his own, and would have never sired a son who would so heartlessly orchestrate his downfall.

Larys. Perhaps the most damning evidence, if it could even be considered as such, for Harwin’s broad generalization. The second born son of a former Hand of the King. The Master of Whisperers for the same king his father had served. Perhaps Larys still served in that position for the Usurper.

But there was only one title that Harwin would ever acknowledge Larys Strong as again.

Kinslayer.

There weren’t enough feelings in the world to adequately describe how Harwin felt about the man who had once been his brother. The man whom Harwin had spent years of his youth looking out for, defending, and the man whom Harwin had always gone to great lengths to reassure that any inadequacy he might have felt was only imagined.

But if there was a primary feeling Harwin felt, it was pure, unbridled anger. As Harwin wrestled with his own thoughts, it was of little surprise that sleep had yet to find him. He’d been on the deck of Lord Darklyn’s ship for a while now, perhaps an hour or two. But Harwin would stay put and breathe in the salty air for as long as he needed to in order to feel something other than the dangerously stormy anger brewing within.

Said anger was now reserved solely for the scum that was Larys the Kinslayer. Not for you, or your children, or for anyone else traveling with you. If Harwin needed to keep some distance in order to refrain from outlashing upon an unintended recipient, then it was a necessary evil. Leaving you alone in bed while he carved some time for himself did not sit well with Harwin, but he would live with it readily if it meant you’d be spared witnessing just how much damage Larys’s blow had done to him.

You did not need a husband who was distracted with a desire to deal out personal justice, or a husband completely devastated by the betrayal of someone he had once held so dear. You had taken another’s life with your own hands, even though it was completely in your own self defense. Harwin was relieved that you had been able to do what needed to be done to protect yourself, but that did not make a difference in how you felt about it.

You need Harwin to be strong, now more than ever.

… So why was he here, up on the deck of Lord Darklyn’s ship, and away from you?

Further internal reflection could wait until later. The closer the ship grew to Dragonstone, the further you and the rest of your family were out of the Usurper’s grasp, and the more at ease Harwin began to feel. It was all a bit ironic, considering what was looming on the horizon.

Harwin turned away from the sea, and made to head back below deck. However, the sight of you and Derrik across the way made him pause. How long had the two of you been up here, whilst he was completely consumed in his own thoughts?

He walked across the deck with light steps, not wishing to disturb whatever conversation the two of you found yourselves in at this late hour.

“... I think you will feel more settled on the morrow, once we reach Dragonstone,” you were saying to Derrik. “We will be under Princess -the Queen’s- protection then. We will reaffirm our loyalty to her cause, and see how best we can serve it.”

“And then?” Derrick questioned.

“We will cross that bridge once we’ve reached it,” Harwin answered.

Despite the softness of his tone, Harwin couldn’t help but notice how you and Derrik flinched at the sound of his voice. It faintly wondered what subject the two of you had been discussing prior to him announcing his presence.

“Good evening, Father,” Derrik greeted him, recovering from his slight startle with ease. “We were just taking in a breath of fresh air.”

“As was I,” Harwin lied. His eyes briefly scanned the area, before finally landing back on Derrik. “Where is Selwin?”

It was a fair question; when it came to your sons, where there was one, the other was usually not far behind.

But in response, Derrik shook his head. “He is doing a much better job at trying to sleep than what I have the patience for.”

A soft smile threatened to break through Harwin’s otherwise brooding composure at the thought.

Upon Lord Darklyn receiving word of the death of the King, both Derrik and Selwin had insisted on riding out with Harwin to find you and the escort on the road. Derrik had been difficult enough to persuade to remain behind in Duskendale; convincing Selwin to do the same had been nearly impossible. Your youngest son had a fire within him that reminded Harwin so greatly of the one he harbored within himself. It was a fire fueled by loyalty and the desire to fiercely protect one’s own. Selwin, like Harwin, wore his heart on his sleeve. He was no lamb in sheep’s clothing, like Larys had revealed himself to be. Selwin was not capable of the treachery that his uncle had devised.

No, Harwin happily amended mentally. Not all second sons are destined to bring ruin upon their kin.

“Let us hope his efforts are not futile,” Harwin suggested. “We could all do with a good night’s rest.”

Whilst we still can. Those were the unspoken words that lingered uncomfortably for a few fleeting moments.

“I shall try and follow his example then,” Derrik agreed, breaking the mild tension. “Good night, Mother, Father.”

“Sleep well,” you told him, smiling lightly when Derrik kissed you fondly on the cheek.

Harwin also mustered up a small smile to give Derrik, and clapped him briefly on the shoulder as the younger man passed him. As Derrik walked away, Harwin turned his full attention to you.

It must have been a skill, Harwin supposed. Or, rather, simply a natural talent. Whatever it was, you looked as beautiful as ever, and effortlessly so, despite the horrors you both witnessed and experienced over the past few weeks. As you stood before him, the moonlight bathed you in a subtle but attractive light.

But when your eyes flickered up to meet his own, Harwin noticed immediately that they betrayed your otherwise serene and undisturbed appearance. Such sadness, stress, and mayhaps grief, lingered in your eyes, the likes of which Harwin had been fortunate enough to seldom see. In fact, the last time you had looked at him in such a way, you had just lost your brother, and were torn between fighting your cousin, Lord Garrett Redwyne, for possession of House Tyrell’s titles and holdings, or simply giving up. You had been seeking answers.

Perhaps you were seeking them again.

“You could not sleep either?” Harwin deduced.

You shook your head, turning to face the railing once again. Harwin stepped forward, coming to a stop beside you. Your arms brushed against one another’s due to the close proximity, but neither of you felt particularly inclined to move or step away.

Harwin looked over at you, but your gaze had returned to the dark waves before the pair of you. The hypnotic swirling movements spanned as far as the eye could see. There was no land, nor anything other to focus on. Only waves. Only darkness.

“Talk to me,” Harwin begged gently.

You clenched your jaw, still refusing to meet his eyes. “‘Tis nothing to speak of.”

“If that is truly how you feel about it, then I shall be gravely concerned for you.”

At Harwin’s poor attempt at a joke, you tore your eyes away from the sea and looked up at him. You gave him a disapproving look, but Harwin could’ve sworn that the heavy look in your eyes was lightened- if only a little bit.

“Please,” Harwin coaxed softly, hoping the break in your reserve would encourage you to continue to lower your heightened guard. “If speaking about it will help-”

“Lord Husband, you have just discovered that your brother conspired to have us killed, succeeded in killing your father, and attempted to take my own life once more. And yet you wish to discuss how I am feeling?”

“Yes,” Harwin asserted firmly, ignoring the twinge of hurt he felt at the use of such formality. “I can not bear the thought of you suffering in silence, My Love.”

You looked away from him once again and shook your head to yourself.

It was hardly appropriate conversation to have over dinner. But there had been some nights, when the memories became too much, too burdensome to contain with the perils of his own mind, when Harwin confided to you about it. Harwin had been Lord Commander of the City Watch, and had served on it for years prior to his promotion. He might not have commanded with the iron fist that his predecessors had, but he never shied away from doing what needed to be done. He’d been trained with weapons at a young age, and had grown up the eldest son and heir of a lord who was expected to carry out justice in the name of the King within the border of his own lands. He’d been knighted, and had participated in many dangerous tournaments over the years.

Harwin had witnessed a great deal of death in his life. And some of those deaths had been by his own hand.

Killing in the name of justice or honor did not make it any easier for Harwin to rationalize or accept what he had needed to do. And, he imagined, killing in the name of self-defense would not make it any more tolerable either.

“There is more blood on my hands than your own,” Harwin reminded you somberly, the volume of his voice softening significantly under the pure weight of his words. “I understand how impossible it may seem to wash it all away, despite the urge you may feel to rid yourself of the memory. If you need more time to mull it over, then take it. But I beg of you, please do not keep it all to yourself. You cannot simply ignore it- I know this, because I have tried. If you never face it, it will drown you.”

You clenched your jaw tighter.

For a few moments, all was quiet. The longer you did not speak, the more Harwin’s concern for you grew. If there was one thing that could overpower his desire to avenge his father, it would be his pure care and love for you.

Finally, you sighed. “Every time I close my eyes, I see his.” Abruptly, you turned, and looked up at Harwin with a pleading, almost pained look. “And when I do not see his, I see Ser Vaemond’s instead.”

Rumors about the unfavorable conclusion of the Driftmark succession petition had reached Duskendale only a day or two after Ser Vaemond’s head was detached from his shoulders, courtesy of Prince Daemon. Harwin knew you would not have been likely to be far from Princess Rhaenyra’s side during the petition, which led him to the inevitable conclusion that you were likely to have witnessed the grotesque act. Another horrendous and, frankly, unnecessary, chain of events that you had bore witness to over the past few weeks, and largely in part to the impulsivity of Prince Daemon Targaryen.

Harwin had many things he wished to say to Prince Daemon. Unfortunately, not many of them were likely to come to fruition, given the man’s recent escalation to Prince Consort.

Harwin could not, and would not, lie to you. “They will likely haunt you for some time.”

You did not look pleased by this, but neither did you look particularly surprised.

“The memories may be foul, but they serve a purpose,” Harwin contended delicately. “They prove that you have compassion. Guilt, even. It stands to reason that, had there been any other way, you might have taken it. But make no mistake, Y/N- there was no other way. Not this time.”

“Will it ever stop?” you wondered, your voice wavering with emotion. “Will I ever stop reliving what I’ve seen? What I’ve done?”

Harwin wished for little else in that moment but to find it within himself to lie to you. What he would do to give you whatever little comfort he could in this particularly trying time. But if it was a false hope, it would not be worth offering at all.

“You will always remember, but the shock will fade with time. You come to terms with it; you accept that it cannot be undone.”

Once more, you did not look pleased nor surprised. Rather, you looked resigned. “... Thank you, Harwin. I do not believe this is the last we will speak of the matter. But your words have helped, if only for tonight.”

Of course, Harwin would have wished for you to feel more reassured than for merely the span of the night, but that was a tall ask. He would not count it as a loss, and would be content with helping to soothe what plagued you in the time being, no matter how little it was.

It felt that the conversation had reached a natural conclusion. But just as Harwin was about to suggest that you both return back to your temporary quarters to retire, you continued.

“And what of you?”

Harwin froze. “What of me?”

“You insult me to think I am so foolish, Dearest. How fair is it for you to offer me words of comfort in my time of need, but to not have the same courtesy extended to you?”

Harwin was given a small start when you suddenly placed your hand on top of his own.

“Please,” you steadfastly bid him. “The revelation that your brother is not who you believed him to be is deeply troubling, but you need not conceal your thoughts about it for my sake. I can see how deep his betrayal has wounded you. Our sons can see it. And I am certain even Luciya can sense something is amiss.”

You were stubborn. But Harwin loved you for it. “... I would not even know where to begin.”

“You can begin by telling me what you wrote to him.”

May the gods have mercy on you, for I will not.

That was what Harwin had written to Larys, amongst other things.

Upon the realization that both scrolls found on two of the men who had waylaid your traveling party en route to Duskendale bore Larys’s seal, Harwin could not have torn them open fast enough.

Larys must have made himself out to be a clever man by having given his men the letters, each addressed to Harwin, and each able to have been sent on by raven once the task was done. Given their varying contents, one would have been selected depending on the course of action his tongue-less men had deemed appropriate to take. While one had conveyed Larys’s deepest sympathies that he had discovered you’d been killed in a skirmish during a robbery gone astray, the other regretfully informed Harwin that you had been taken hostage by the brigands instead.

But Larys was not clever enough. Keeping the firefly pin a secret between Harwin, you, and his steward and castellan, Lord Dannis, had proven to be most wise. Had Larys discovered the connection you and Harwin had made between it and the fire at Harrenhal, he might not have been so bold whilst devising his most recent attempt on your life.

Harwin made the most of the opportunity to write a short, but plain, letter back to his brother. He had not even bothered to sign or seal it, but Larys would not be able to mistake who had sent it.

You had read both of Larys’s scrolls, but Harwin had not shown you what he had penned back to the Kinslayer. The raven carrying the message had departed Duskendale for King’s Landing just as you departed Duskendale for Dragonstone. Larys most likely would have received it by already. Harwin could not deny that the thought of Larys pacing restlessly in the Red Keep as the realization that his wicked schemes had been found out brought Harwin some joy.

“He knows that I am aware of what he has done,” Harwin paraphrased his letter, ultimately deciding that revealing the entirety of his words was moot. Then, another thought crossed his mind, and he grimaced. “But perhaps I was too careless with my words. Keeping Larys in the dark, at least for a few days, might have offered us an advantage against him.”

You gripped his hand more firmly. “No. Let him toil away for now, knowing that justice will be had.”

Harwin had thought, more than once, about sending you and your children onwards to Dragonstone whilst he returned to King’s Landing alone. The thought of barging into the Red Keep and dragging Larys out to face that justice was extremely appealing. But Harwin knew, beyond a doubt, that if he stormed through the gates of the Red Keep, he would not be simply allowed to leave. He was the Lord of Harrenhal now, a lord suspected by many, for more reasons than one, to be unwaveringly loyal to Queen Rhaenyra. The Usurper would leap at the chance to lock him away in the dungeons, at least until he thought of a way he could be use to serve his false cause.

A day would come when vengeance could be served, and Larys would be paid his due. But, much to Harwin’s chagrin, that day would have to wait.

“You should write to your sisters,” you suggested to him. “They deserve to know the truth about Larys.”

Harwin glanced at you anxiously, and his shoulders tensed. With all his mental turmoil, he had yet to consider how his sisters may react to the news. “Do you truly think they will believe me? It will be my word against his. Larys has had us fooled for years, My Love- who is to say his venomous words will not charm our sisters and turn them against me?”

“And what could Larys say to sway them?” you countered. “That you’ve gone mad? You’ve never given either of your sisters a reason to fear you, My Love. I do not believe that would start now. And, should they be insistent on proof, we still have the other letter in our possession.”

Harwin took care to choose which one of his brother’s letters he would return back to him, and kept the most damning one for himself. He’d tucked it safely away amongst his few traveling possessions, where it would remain. The letter, written in Larys’s own hand and which detailed your death, which had yet to actually transpire, was likely to raise some questions at the very least.

“Your sisters deserve to be informed of such a thing in person,” you acquiesced thoughtfully. “But that is a luxury that we cannot afford now. Write to them- tell them the truth, and warn them of what we suspect will soon come, so that their houses can start their own preparations.”

Successfully convincing Lilyan and Eyla that their brother orchestrated the murder of Lord Lyonel would appease Harwin some, but it would never be enough. Even if Harwin could find it somewhere deep within himself to one day forgive Larys of such an atrocity, that was not the whole of Larys’s sins.

The failure to properly execute a plan could not erase the intent of it. The fire at Harrenhal had been orchestrated to eliminate you all. Larys had meant to kill you. He had meant to rid himself of your sons.

And for that, Larys could rot in the deepest pit of the Seven Hells for all eternity.

“That will not be enough to satisfy,” Harwin confided to you in a dark, low tone.

“Once this business with the Usurper has been dealt with, the Queen shall hold them all accountable for their crimes. The Master of Whisperers may receive a trial, but the truth cannot be soiled. Larys will meet his deserved end.”

Harwin paused to allow the deeper meaning of your words sink in.

Larys would die.

But what all would transpire before that came to pass?

Suddenly, a particularly strong gust of wind came barreling through. As you readjusted your grip on the railing, Harwin placed a hand at the small of your back to keep you steady. Once the wind had passed, you shivered.

Without a thought, Harwin unfastened and shrugged off his traveling cloak. Ignoring your feeble protests, he placed it over your shoulders. His hands remained there for a few moments past what would have been necessary to secure the fabric.

“Thank you,” you told him, speaking so softly Harwin had to strain to hear you over the noise of the waves. “But I have little need for two cloaks, and without one of your own, you will catch a chill.”

“If that is the cost for ensuring you will not, then it is a price I do not mind paying.”

For the second time, Harwin felt the conversation had reached its natural conclusion. But then, you took a slow step to the side, creeping your way towards him. He lifted an arm and could not help but chuckle at your thinly veiled attempt to be subtle about it. Once you tucked yourself into his side, Harwin dropped his arm, securing you to him.

You had both been through great ordeals. It was, almost fearfully so, too easy to forget that it had been weeks since you had had a true moment alone. A moment unencumbered by the most recent conversations of traveling, betrayal, usurpation, or war. A moment where the two of you could just be.

“I do not think I have ever felt more relieved than when I realized it was not too late,” Harwin found himself saying.

Finding you amidst a struggle with a mysterious attacker was frightening enough, but you were alive, and at that moment, after weeks of tormenting himself about the extent of your wellbeing, that was all that had mattered to Harwin. The fear of not finding you, or worse, finding you after something grave had befallen you and your escort on the road, still haunted him.

You burrowed your head into his chest to make yourself more comfortable. “As was I. What use would I be to our Queen if I had fallen into the clutches of the Greens?”

Harwin could not help but be appalled by your words. Did you truly not understand? Though loyalty was admirable, the severity of the situation could not be ignored.

Harwin tightened his hold on you. “You could have died.”

“I know,” you breathed shakily. “It’s just… easier to entertain the alternative.”

Harwin understood that feeling all too well.

You wrapped your arms around his middle. As if it were even possible, you pressed yourself further into his side. “I am truly sorry about your brother, Dearest.”

“Don’t be,” Harwin replied, speaking truthfully. “He may be of my blood, but he is no brother of mine. I still have my family, my true family. And I still have you. That is all that matters.”

For a few minutes, the two of you stood there in a comfortable silence.

“These are dark times we’ve found ourselves in,” you mused joylessly.

Harwin sighed. “Aye.”

“All of this mess, is it worth it? Is all this misery we’ve endured worth whatever awaits us beyond?”

“We are no oathbreakers,” Harwin reminded you, treading lightly. “We chose this path years ago.”

“But what if we chose wrong?”

Harwin was stunned to a loss for words at your suggestion. You had rarely expressed any doubt in supporting Princess Rahenyra, and for as long as Harwin had known you, you had known her.

Eventually, Harwin pondered, “How could we have chosen wrong, if we chose to walk this path together?”

You contemplated his words.

“It would serve neither of us to dwell on the past,” Harwin discouraged, pulling you even closer still. “This path we have chosen might not be easy. But it is what we have chosen.”

There was another choice before you now. Formally pledged oaths and informally reassurances of loyalty aside, the question was a simple one.

Aegon, or Rhaenyra? … The Usurper, or your friend?

“What do you think awaits us at Dragonstone?” you asked him then.

Harwin did not fail to notice your convenient change in rhetoric, but he would not press the matter. “If Lord Darklyn could not delay his own departure to Dragonstone, even for a day or two so that we might have joined him, then the situation must be dire.”

“I should write to my uncle. If war is upon us, he needs to know.”

Harwin understood your sense of urgency. Dragons were one thing, but armies were another. If Oldtown deposed reinforcements to King’s Landing to defend the Usurper’s claim, Highgarden, fixed along the Rose Road, would be in their direct path.

“And you shall,” Harwin assured you. “On the morrow.”

There were no ravens aboard that were available to carry such a message.

Fortunately, you did not disagree. Instead, you gave him a relenting nod. “It seems that a lot of hope has been placed on our issues being resolved ‘on the morrow’.”

“As you told our son- we shall at least feel more at ease.”

You scoffed. “Excellent. Well, now that you’ve put it that way, I look forward to it earnestly.”

Harwin must’ve made a strange face, for as soon as you saw it, your own expression softened. As you turned to face him fully, the sarcasm faded quickly, leaving only empathy in its wake.

You placed your hands on his chest and looked up to him with wide eyes. “Forgive me.”

The corners of Harwin’s mouth twitched as he covered your hands with his own. “There is nothing to forgive, My Love.”

And when you stood on your toes to press a tender kiss to his lips, it was incredibly easy for Harwin to imagine that the two of you were somewhere, anywhere else. Not sailing towards an uncertain fate.

What he would have given to turn back time, if only a month or two. What he would have given to have you and your children back in Highgarden, away from what was becoming an increasingly volatile world. What he would have given to have spared you the horrors you had endured.

What he would give to have the opportunity to knock some sense into himself, to force open his own eyes and take a deeper, more insightful look at his brother.

The path you had chosen to walk together had taken its toll. Most of the wounds had healed, though the scars of them would always remain. But, as Harwin had argued, you had chosen to walk the path together. You would not abandon the path now, not when the end was so near. However strenuous the final stretch of it would be, you would continue to draw your strength from each other.

You pulled away first, but did not stray far. Your next words escaped you in a hushed whisper. “Whatever comes next, promise me that we’ll face it together?”

“Together,” Harwin avowed, knowing no other way.

The sun had just begun to rise over the island of Dragonstone.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon had already been awake for some time, but the lightening of the sky gave him a proper excuse to finally slip from his chambers.

He found who he needed to without much searching; it seemed there were many walking about the castle as of late, even at early hours of the morning. Almost all of them would jump at any chance to be of service. Jacaerys gave the order to his mother’s- well, perhaps now his- steward, and did not dawdle long after giving it, lest it be protested.

The Queen was not to be disturbed.

Of course, his mother had no idea of Jacaerys’s command. In fact, once she learned of it, she was likely to be cross with him. But Jacaerys would willingly subject himself to her scolding, for he felt it was for the best.

The day before had been difficult. Terribly so.

In the morning, they had given the funeral rights before a much, much too small pyre for his sister. Visenya, his mother had named her. By midday, Ser Erryk Cargyll had arrived from King’s Landing to present his mother with the crown of the Old King. It was same crown his own grandsire had worn for six and twenty years, and his great-great-grandsire for five and fifty years before that. By the afternoon, most everyone had gathered in the Chamber of the Painted Table, where strategizing waged on for what felt like a few more hours. Lord Otto Hightower’s arrival on the shores of Dragonstone in the evening brought that discussion to a grinding halt. He’d delivered proposed terms of peace to the Queen, and to the rest of her pledged supporters who had not already received them. No one had felt like reconvening after that.

Three days. His mother had promised the Usurper’s Hand that the Greens would have their answer in three days. In three days, it would be known whether the realm was to go to war.

But until the Sea Snake arrived, or until the scouts his mother had sent to the mainland to locate and retrieve their additional key allies returned, it felt as if all further progress at amassing support for the Queen’s cause was at a standstill. And so far, there had yet to be word on either of those fronts.

No need for his mother to rise any earlier than what she might naturally. If Jacaerys could do her this small kindness, it would be more than worthwhile. His mother was the Queen, and the Seven Kingdoms were hers to protect now. But she had also protected Jacaerys his entire life. Now that he was nearly a man grown, it was high time for him to return the favor.

With the Queen indisposed with sleep, only Prince Daemon might have been able to undermine Jacaerys’s command to leave her undisturbed. It was most fortunate that his step-father was doing… only the gods knew whatever he was doing, coming and going from the castle at all hours, and as he saw fit. Jacaerys could only hope that he wasn’t off threatening even more of the limited few who had already pledged their support. That would be the easiest way to invoke the wrath of the Queen.

There was already tension between them, between his mother and step-father. But Jacaerys could not discern the real cause. Was it the loss of their daughter, the death of their father and brother respectively, or another matter altogether?

The only comfort Jacerys took was, although his step-father was undoubtedly plotting for someone, he could not possibly be plotting for the Greens. The Greens might welcome many of the Queen’s defectors to their side in the days to come, but so deep was the history between the Rogue Prince and the Usurper’s Hand, Prince Daemon would never be one of them.

Finally alone with his thoughts, Jacaerys leaned against the stone barrier of a balcony that looked out and over the sea. With some good winds and a fair amount of luck, vessels bearing the Sea Snake’s banner would sail through the waters by the end of the day.

A small glance at the sky behind him, all the way across to the other side of the castle, proved his suspicions. Nearly a day had passed, and yet the faint white wisps of smoke rose into the pink sky.

What remained of Princess Visenya Targaryen’s funeral pyre still simmered.

Jacaerys turned back away. What he would give to take to the skies with Vermax at that moment. Being on dragonback and looking down at the world, where even something as grand as the castle looked miniscule, had an uncanny way of clearing one’s mind.

But that was not possible. Not today. With his mother taking a well-deserved rest, Jacaerys knew he needed to be on the ground and easily within reach, in case there happened to be need of him. At least he could carve away a few moments of calm peace, before the rest of the castle began to truly stir.

And peace he had, until a small movement beside him gently nudged him from his heavy thoughts. Jacaerys turned towards the oncomer and was surprised at who he saw beside him.

“Luke,” he greeted. He shifted, taking his weight off his forearms, which had been resting on the barrier before him, and rose to his full height. “I did not expect you to be up at this hour.”

“Nor I you,” his younger brother replied, avoiding his gaze.

An awkward tension fell over them.

“Did you sleep well?”

Lucerys’s answer was quick and resolved. “No.”

“Me neither.”

The awkwardness dissipated, and when Lucerys finally turned to meet his eyes, he gave a small smile, which was easy for Jacaerys to return.

“Before too much time has passed, there is something I wished to tell you,” Jacaerys said then, carefully adjusting his tone so as to properly convey his sincerity. “I wanted to apologize for the other day. How I behaved… it was uncalled for.”

Jacaerys was not sure what had gotten a hold of him. He and his brother had been sparring with one another since they were young boys, and none of those bouts had ever resulted as it had two days ago. Never before had Jacaerys knocked his younger brother down to the sand, nor yanked him around, let alone so roughly. Jacaerys supposed that he had yet to recover the involuntary exposure to his uncles in King’s Landing, which had brought out the worst in him. But even if that were so, Lucerys had not been deserving of the treatment he’d received.

“You are a prince,” Lucerys disagreed. A true peacekeeper, he was. It was little wonder mother tended to favor him; Jacaerys would have done the same, if he’d had a son like that.

“As are you.”

“You are the Prince,” Lucerys amended, uncharacteristically stoic. “The Heir to the Iron Throne, future Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Jacaerys countered, “And who was I before?”

Lucyers waited for his response.

“Your brother,” Jacaerys answered, clapping a firm hand on his shoulder. “Whether they call us princes or bastards, whether I am to be a king someday or nothing at all, none of that matters to me. None of that matters, so long the histories remember I was your brother in the end.”

He could tell his words touched Lucerys deeply; the rising sun did little to mask the water behind his younger brother’s eyes. But Jacaerys would not speak of that. By the old gods and the new, never again would he belittle Lucerys so.

“My Prince!”

Jacaerys dropped his hand and turned towards the call.

It was Baela.

There he was, at nearly ten and seven, and just the sight of his recently betrothed had the tendency to make him grin like a love-stricken boy.

“Good morrow, Lady Baela!” Jacaerys greeted her heartily. He did a double take as he took in her appearance. Baela was walking towards them, taking off her gloves one by one. Her silvery white curls, riding cloak, and dress fanned out behind her with the winds that blew in from the sea. She looked rather majestic, but Jacaerys would have rather been caught dead before he dared to make such a declaration in the presence of his younger brother.

Seven Hells, Baela herself might have even thumped him upside the head for it.

“Did you go for a ride this morning?” Lucerys asked her politely, also having noted her unusual state of dress for the early hour.

Moondancer was not the biggest of their dragons, but had recently grown large enough to seat her rider. And Baela had taken advantage of that development as much as her young dragon’s stamina had allowed.

Baela nodded. “I thought I might keep an eye out for Grandsire’s fleet.”

“Any sight of it?”

“No,” Baela answered, the disappointment evident in her voice. “However, I did spot a lone ship, with its course leading straight here. I knew I needed to return at once.”

Jacaerys frowned. The Usurper’s Hand had not been gone half a day, and his mother had told him she would need three in order to consider the proposed terms. Surely the Usurper was not so conniving, nor stupid, to send a single vessel to Dragonstone for the sake of merely antagonizing the Queen? If it was an enemy ship, it would never even reach the harbor.

“What is the banner being flown?” Jacaerys implored.

“The sail was of House Darklyn’s,” Baela recounted. “Was Lord Gunthor expecting more men?”

“Not that I can recall.” Perhaps it was a ploy or something of the sort.

Jacaerys turned with the intention to head back inside, rouse his mother, and inform her of the news. But when Baela reached out a hand to stop him, he halted at once.

“There were two others,” she told him. “They were smaller banners, like what soldiers might carry. I did not dare to fly too low or too close, but I could make out the colors.”

“What were they?”

“One was a golden sigil on a field of green.”

Jacaerys looked to his younger brother, who gave him a knowing look. He looked back to Baela. “And the other?”

“It was blue, red-”

“And green?” Lucerys interjected hopefully. “On a field of white?”

Baela looked stunned. “Yes.”

For the first time in days, Jacaerys let out a small laugh. Upon seeing Baela’s confusion from his understandably bizarre response, he explained, “There is no need to worry, for that is no enemy ship.”

It was plain to see that Baela was not entirely reassured. “There are so many house sigils, My Prince. You cannot know them all.”

“I do not,” Jacaerys admitted. “But I know of two houses whose members were recently due to be hosted by Lord Gunthor. The same two we have hoped would soon reach our shores.”

Jacaerys turned back to his brother next. Lucerys looked about as happy as Jacaerys felt.

“Go to the Queen,” he bid Lucerys, “Tell her what Baela has seen. I will alert the guards and greet our guests myself.”

“Come here, Lucy.”

The young Lord Derrik Strong smiled as he took his younger sister into his arms.

You had all arrived in the harbor at Dragonstone shortly after the sun had risen. Since the arrival had not been previously announced, there were no horses, carriages, or other means by which to make traveling with everyone’s belongings up to the castle more feasible. The majority of the traveling party had elected to remain behind until such assistance could be procured, while the rest of you were to head onwards on foot.

The walk from the harbor to the gates of the castle was not a long one, at just under half a league. But the youngest among you would not be able to make the walk herself, and leaving her behind with the rest of the party was simply out of the question. Neither you, Harwin, Selwin, or Derrik could ask Brynna to carry Luciya all that way, even if the loyal nursemaid might have done so.

Instead, Derrik took turns with his brother carrying and otherwise entertaining their sister for the short trek. Every now and then, you and Harwin would spare a glance behind you at your children, ready to take over and assist with Luciya if needed.

But you and Harwin had enough on your mind at the moment, and an undoubtedly long day ahead of you. If Derrik could keep his sister preoccupied, it would be the least he could do for you.

You had visited Dragonstone once or twice with Princess Rhaenyra- when she had only been the princess- in your youth. Over the years, you had come to tell Derrik and Selwin many tales of it. But no amount of whimsical words could have prepared Derrik for the sheer grandness of the land before him.

Behind the castle, still some ways ahead, looming tall and imposing, the Dragonmont kissed the sky. The blackened smoke rising from its depths created streaks against what would have otherwise been a clear blue.

The castle itself was fodder for awe due the splendorous architecture. Many dragons, carved from the very stone that built up the island, had been installed in its foundations. They rivaled the size of the few dragons Derrik had seen in his lifetime, but were most likely small in comparison to the other dragons of old.

Unfortunately, the impressive scenery had caused more harm than good for others. It was of little wonder how a babe as young as Luciya could not appreciate the finer aspects of the castle’s design. The dragons in particular seemed to pose a viable threat.

Luciya turned and buried her face in Derrik’s shoulder. He could tell she was on the verge of tears by her audible sniffling, and Derrik reacted hastily, wanting to avoid such an outcome. He patted her lightly on the back, saying, “There, there, Lucy. You have no reason to fear the dragons. They will not harm you.”

At his words, Luciya lifted her head cautiously, but her lip still quivered.

“They are good,” Selwin added helpfully, simplifying Derrik’s words so that she might understand. “They will keep us safe.”

Fortunately, it worked, and their sister did not cry. But once she had buried her head in Derrik’s shoulder once more, she did not lift it again.

Only when they had reached the castle’s guarded entrance gate and had begun to make their way across the bridge did Derrik and Selwin give in to Brynna’s insistence. He managed to hand his sister off to her nursemaid without a fuss from Luciya.

As the small group crossed the bridge, Derrik took a moment to fully appreciate the full vision of the castle. But the closer they drew, the more his eyes trailed downwards. Many guards stood tall at the foot of the castle. Most donned the Targaryen red and black, but there appeared to be several White Cloaks among them. In the middle of them all stood a lone figure, positioned right at the bottom of the castle steps.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.

It had been years, but Derrik would have been able to recognize his childhood companion anywhere.

Prince Jacaerys looked most pleased as they approached. It was a sentiment that Derrik wished to return, but then he caught sight of you.

As you walked, you looked over to the right of the castle steps. A small trail, lined with large slabs of jagged rock, led to a small stone altar. The surface of the stone was lined layer upon layer with what appeared to be hardened wax. On top of the altar, what looked like remnants of a fire simmered with a faint and dull orange glow. Little remained of whatever had been aflame, but even now, small tufts of white smoke rose into the sky.

Whatever the altar before you had been used for, Derrik could tell that you were deeply disturbed by it. Your jaw clenched, your eyes hardened. When you turned back to face the prince, your neck tilted stiffly. Derrik continued to watch carefully as Harwin looked at you concernedly with unspoken questions lingering in his eyes.

The group came to a halt before Prince Jacaerys, and for a brief moment, all was still. Then, in unison, the ladies of the group curtsied, while the men among you bowed.

“Our deepest condolences for the loss of your grandsire, My Prince,” you said to him as you rose back to your normal height. Your voice sounded a bit strained. “King Viserys was a good, kind man. The realm shall mourn his loss for many years.”

Prince Jacaerys nodded to you cordially. “You are too kind, Lady Tyrell… Lord Harwin.” The look on Prince Jacaerys’s face as he appraised Derrik’s father was indiscernible, but it was soon replaced with a polite smile. “Know that you and your companions are most welcome on Dragonstone. I have already sent horses and carriages to retrieve those who remained at the harbor. In the meantime, the rest of you will be shown to your quarters.”

Prince Jacaerys gestured to a few of the knights around him, who immediately stepped forward and began to address others among the group.

“Lady Tyrell, Lord Strong,” Prince Jacacarys called then, “If you will follow me. The Queen will wish to speak with you at once.”

The Dragonstone throne within the Great Hall of the Stone Drum was second in splendor only to the Iron Throne. Large slabs of black stone, masoned from the same rock that had been carved from the Dragonmont, fixed it to be a rather intimidating structure.

But neither you nor Harwin had more than a few brief moments to admire it before a door on the opposite end of the room opened.

Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen stepped out of the shadows and into the small streams of light that filtered into the room. As she strode over to the two of you, she subtly commanded every bit of attention and respect with which her new title bestowed upon her. She was dressed in a narrow black gown, which flowed minimally behind her with each step.

Most oddly, her hands did not come to rest upon her stomach. That gesture had always been a habit of hers whenever she was with child. It was a habit she still indulged in, as you had noted during your short time in King’s Landing over a week prior. Instead, her hands swayed by her side, with her thumbs hidden beneath tightly clenched fists. Naturally, your focus drifted towards inwards, towards her middle.

When you realized how truly thin she looked, you almost choked on the horrid feeling that suddenly overcame you.

The altar. The pyre.

As Queen Rhaenyra came to a halt before you and Harwin, your mouth felt dry, and your gaze fell down to the ground beneath your feet. Harwin kneeled beside you. You tucked your chin and forced your legs to bend as you followed his example.

“My Queen.”

You rose slowly, but were encouraged to move more swiftly when the Queen gently pulled you up to your feet and embraced you. For a moment, the two of you stood still. You knew you ought to have said something, anything. Perhaps you should have offered your condolences on the loss of her father… or perhaps you should have extended your deepest sympathies for the second loss you now suspected she had suffered. But you could not. You did not dare to move or speak, not unless she did.

When Rhaenyra finally pulled away, she kept a hold on your arms. Her eyes shone with a mixture of sadness and relief. “It is so good to see you again, my friend.” She looked over to your husband, and gave him a soft smile. “And you, Lord Harwin.”

Harwin bowed his head respectfully.

“I am glad to see the two of you safe… And what of your children?”

“They are well, Your Grace,” Harwin promised her.

The Queen beamed at his words, though her eyes still shone with something more somber. Seemingly invigorated, she turned back to you. “Come now, my friends. There is much to discuss.”

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know any and all of your thoughts. I hope you all have a wonder end of the week!🖤

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pileontheyears · 29 days

Text

“So Ryan and Laura...” (Lovers Card Analysis)

I know people talk about Ryan and Laura not having any romantic chemistry and it’s bizarre to say that there was any romance between them. And while I agree about they're not really being chemistry, I do think the writers were trying to make them love interests (and did a terrible job). So I decided to do an analysis of their relationship (this is what I'm using my English degree for) and I thought I’d share my thoughts because boy I’ve got some stuff to say.

And of course feel free to take this all with a grain of salt, these are just my interpretations and I'm also by no means an expert in tarot (I'm really not all that familiar and any familiarity comes from a google search). Just wanted to make those quick notes so that if you don't agree I totally get it! I do try to address the most common points for why people don't see Ryan and Laura in a romantic light and while I agree I try to show what I think the writers might have been Attempting to do.

The more obvious points are of course from the script itself. How there’s “sexy sparks” between the two, how Laura begrudgingly says trauma can bring people together (as if to say it didn’t bring her and Max together), how Laura brings up Ryan’s relationship to Kaitlyn and his reply of “maybe neither” to whether he likes Kaitlyn or Dylan perhaps insinuating his choice is going to be Laura.

And it's... bad writing. For instance, Laura pins Ryan as a “brooding loner” when she’s known him for an hour and in that time he’s been talkative/around people/acting as leader. How would she know he's a brooding loner? Not to mention her saying Kaitlyn seems to look up to him when it’s the opposite of what she’s seen? (Ryan potentially asking Kaitlyn what he should do, her scolding him for pointing the gun at Laura). But all of that is not the point of this post. I’m bringing these moments up to say this relationship is a lot of tell with little show, (and what we're told we've already been shown the opposite).

If you didn’t pick up there was “chemistry” then Dylan and Kaitlyn will tell you that. If you think Ryan is interested in Dylan because you chose to grow that relationship, Ryan is going to say no. (Of course you could interpret the "after tonight I don't know" line that Ryan is understandably not sure of anything given the circumstances, I myself interpret it that way however the "maybe neither" definitely is this additional "Ryan chooses neither Kaitlyn nor Dylan" and perhaps there is an unasked question of will he then choose Laura?) That being said, I don't think if any of the “these guys are into each other” lines were in the script people would have even thought they were flirting/interested in each other (it would still be a ship some people like based on how they work together to survive akin to Sam and Mike but again at least that script didn't constantly point out romantic/sexual tension in between horror scenarios).

So when people say there’s no chemistry and the relationship is more “we have to work together but I’m gonna bitch at you the whole time" I agree, but the game kind of throws Laura at Ryan (her literally falling on top of him) after revealing the Lovers card depicting Laura biting Ryan’s arm. We know it, we hate it, but this is where my analysis comes in.

Aside from the obvious fact that Ryan and Laura are labeled as the lovers, the card itself has a few layers to it that I’ll go through.

The first being choices, specifically choices in relationships/partners. Now when I first read that I thought “Great, that doesn’t mean Ryan is her choice perhaps he just is one choice.” But the context makes it so he’s kind of her only choice if Ryan is going to survive. The context being Ryan can let Laura bite him in order to save him from blood loss, or he can refuse which leads her to reuniting with Max. There is no way for her to reunite with Max without Ryan dying. What that insinuates with the context of choice of suitor is... yikes. Basically Laura “choosing” Max comes from Ryan dying, and the implication that in order for Ryan to survive that he and Laura are somehow bonded romantically from that point on. Hate both of those, actually.

Now we move onto the next meaning of this card, temptation. This is where we go full analysis mode. The original Lovers card depicts Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. After all what better example of temptation than Adam and Eve biting into the forbidden fruit. And what does Laura do? She bites Ryan. He is her forbidden fruit. And where does this scene take place? The Hackett greenhouse.

A garden.

It’s not exactly subtle. There’s also the parallel of Ryan being stabbed in the ribs, Eve being made from the rib of Adam.

So alright, they’re drawing parallels between Adam and Eve and Ryan and Laura (bringing about the downfall of humanity/the Hacketts). But does this mean that Laura is “giving into temptation” by saving Ryan’s life? I mean that sounds stupid. And maybe her "temptation" is more-so the werewolf curse and giving into that but then why point out "sexy sparks?" Why have Laura ask if Ryan is flirting with her? Why label them lovers? It may just be that stupid because I also found this in Chris’s office when playing as Dylan. This book is right by Ryan, right where Dylan asks if he has a girlfriend or boyfriend.

Maybe it's a reference to the love triangle between Ryan, Dylan, and Kaitlyn. But the title? ...The King of My Gardens?

Not looking like a coincidence anymore. They were planting this seed early on. And the fact that the only foreshadowing of Ryan and Laura is this book cover that no one is going to see (unless they scower through each corner of the game like I do) that’s not even writing.

I love nothing more than when writers put in extra effort with little things like this that a casual viewer won’t see but it just goes to show that even if you do that it can’t make up for bad writing and a lack of chemistry. I’m sure some people like the pairing but to me it’s introduced way too late after the player has invested time in other relationships.

Perhaps Dylan and Kaitlyn aren't reliable when they talk about Laura and Ryan, and if that was the Only instance the game tries to put Ryan and Laura together I would agree but twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern and man is there a pattern here.

As for Laura yes she is going through all of this for Max but it depends on the players choices how that relationship is going. After all, she could have left him at the very beginning of the game. While Laura's choice to save Max is always the same in order for the story to stay on track, her motive could be from love or perhaps a sense of loyalty/duty (Ryan's and Laura's loyalty being what brings these two together, be it romantically or out of admiration but I can see that's probably why the writers were trying to put them together because they respect how far they're willing to go for the people in their lives).

So if the player's choices hurt Laura and Max's relationship and she starts bonding with Ryan, the camera lingering on her smiling after Ryan says "maybe neither" could be read as her being interested. After all she asks (curiously? hopefully?) how close he is with Kaitlyn, insinuating she's trying to figure out if he's available. Maybe that's not the case or maybe it's due to her werewolf infection but the game doesn't show her fighting back against it so it seems to be presented as genuine. Regardless of the viewer's interpretation the relationship as a whole could have been presented better (let their be an option if the player really doesn't want Ryan with either Dylan or Kaitlyn to turn them both down early on and if Laura's relationship with Max has also plummeted then sure add another relationship path, but let the player choose which relationships will become romantic).

And I know these games aren’t dating sims, the point of these horror survival games is, well, survival. But literally every other Supermassive Game puts just as much emphasis on character relationships (and a lot of emphasis on romantic relationships) as they do survival (Chris and Ashley, Alex and Julia, etc.) And for a game to be all about how your choices matter and then have them not really matter when it comes to the relationships they bring attention to? When they do in every other game?

It feels like Supermassive just told me “It’s Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve.”

#the quarry #ryan erzahler #laura kearney #this has been collecting dust in my drafts for almost a year now #I definitely think you can interpret all of these moments in different ways #but this was my hey if the writers were trying to write ryan and laura as love interests these are the key points I'd point out #and no I don't think it's well written #or at least well executed #relationship system really would’ve made it better tho

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herofics · 1 year

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hi just wondering if you can do a hawks x reader and reader has suicidal thoughts but hawks does know because reader hasn’t told him and he finds out by looking on readers laptop and the reason he is going on readers laptops is because he thinks reader might be cheating on him because any time he ask what reader is doing when on there laptop they get nervous and when he asks to see they come up with an excuse of why he can’t do one day he goes on there laptop to see what is going on and see the notes app open but needs a password to get in and he knows the password and finds out reader has has suicidal thoughts from time to time since they where very young and all of the thoughts are in the boys so he talks to reader about it and it gets deep.

sorry it’s it’s a long request and sorry if it too dark totally understandable if you don’t want to do but if you do it thanks you 😀

I’ve written quite a lot of things like this, but none for Hawks I’m pretty sure. If you wanna read more stuff like this for different characters, check out the masterlist in the pinned post. This didn’t end up particularly "deep" or anything, mostly because I don’t feel like dissecting my own suicidal thoughts or behaviors at this time, and I don’t really know how to write it otherwise

Hawks didn’t want to even consider it, but he was getting suspicious with all that was going on with you. Almost every time he sat down next to you when you were on your laptop on the couch, you’d close it quickly, like you didn’t want him to see what you were doing.

Hawks started noticing this behavior when you started to spend more time together. At first the thought that you might be cheating on him didn’t even cross his mind. He thought you might just be planning a surprise for his upcoming birthday, but as his birthday came and went and your odd behavior persisted, he had to admit to himself that this must have been something else.

You knew Hawks was nosy, and observant as hell, so you were surprised he never mentioned your refusal to let him use your computer, or to really even see it. He might have made a few jokes about it, but he never seriously asked you about it. You sometimes felt like maybe he just didn’t care enough to ask, no one else did, so why would he?

Hawks finally got his chance to take a look at your laptop when you forgot to close it while you went to take a shower. He was so sure he was right about you cheating on him, even though he hated to even think about it. What he found though, was so much worse, and it made him feel incredibly guilty for what he’d thought.

He checked some of your social media, but he couldn’t find you even exchanging messages with anyone, let alone anything that could be considered cheating. He felt bad for thinking about it, but not bad enough to not check your notes app. When he opened it, the app asked for a passcode. He thought this was it for sure, a bit of an odd thing to keep behind a passcode, but he wasn’t really thinking, he was just doing. Hawks just wanted to know, he couldn’t take not knowing.

He knew the passcode on your phone, so he decided to try his luck with that. The notes app opened and he started looking through your different notes. The one that really caught his attention was one titled “Goodbye”. He opened it and as he read, he couldn’t help but feel the pit of dread in his stomach getting bigger and bigger. It was a suicide note.

Hawks heard the shower stop and he set your laptop on the couch, where it had been before he’d touched it. He really wanted to talk with you about this, he had to. He needed to let you know that he cared, that he loved you so much.

When you came back to the living room in your pajamas with a towel in your hand, you noticed he was looking at you with an odd expression. You couldn’t quite place your finger on what was bothering you so much about it.

“Everything okay?” you asked as you approached while drying your hair on the towel.

“No, definitely not” he shook his head.

You sat down next to him on the couch and noticed your laptop was open just a little bit. You were sure you had closed it. Then it clicked, Hawks’ expression and your open computer. He’d found out.

“You saw, didn’t you?” you whispered.

“Yeah, I did… Why wouldn’t you tell me?” he asked and grabbed your hand.

“I-I don’t know. I mean I know in my heart you love me, even if my brain keeps telling me otherwise. It’s just that the few people I’ve mentioned this to, have always thought I was just attention seeking and…” you trailed off.

“Oh dove” Hawks said softly, but you could hear the sadness in his voice, it sounded like it truly pained him that you were feeling this way.

Ever since you’d started having these thoughts, you’d never really talked about them with anyone, not for real anyway, and you’d been having them for a long time. Anytime you’d mentioned it to someone, they had just told you you wanted attention, and that you shouldn’t say that just for attention, because people really have problems with stuff like that.

It had always made you feel even worse, because people didn’t seem to believe you. You didn’t know how to ask for help, when no one seemed to be listening. Over the years, you had come to the conclusion that it wouldn't do any good anyway, so you had just stopped talking about it, and started writing your thoughts down. It helped, but it didn’t make the feelings go away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you” you said.

“Why are you apologizing to me? You never need to apologize to me for feeling a certain way. I just wish you’d told me” he said, still holding your hand.

“Well you know now. Why were you on my computer anyway?” you inquired, hoping to steer him to another topic.

“Ahaha, no reason” Hawks laughed very awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand.

“I don’t really believe that but I’m too tired to try to get the truth out of you” you rolled your eyes.

Hawks sighed with relief, but then he got a much more serious look on his face, as he said: “I know you probably don’t like talking about it, bad past experiences and the topic being what it is, but I’m here for you. If you need to talk in the middle of the night, you wake me up or call me, or something, anything is better than-than this” he said, motioning at your laptop.

“I promise to try, but I can’t really guarantee I’ll be able to. I’ve been treated and felt like a burden for so long, I don’t really know how to talk to someone who actually cares” you laughed to cover up the fact you were almost crying.

“I don’t really know how I can help you, but I promise to learn, and I promise to try my best” Hawks vowed with a serious look in his eyes.

You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, you bursted into sobs as Hawks pulled you to his chest and held you as you cried. In that moment you knew he cared, he truly cared. You’d just have to keep reminding yourself of that whenever you started to doubt it.

Hawks would do his best to make sure you felt loved everyday. That you knew he cared about you and that he would never let anything hurt you, not even yourself.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #hawks #bnha hawks #mha hawks #takami keigo #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #mha angst #bnha angst #comfort #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #suicidal tw

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nights-at-crystarium · 1 year

Text

Fragments - episodes 12-14 author notes

Hi hello and welcome to yet another ramble about Fragments C: I’m doing these regularly because there’s so much I wanna say about my idiots, and I like looking back and appreciating the work I’ve done.

You can find similar breakdown posts on older episodes in my pinned!

I haven’t commented on any of the ShB episodes yet, so here we go. Chapter 2 is estimated to last for over a year real-time, it correlates to the msq events up to Amity. The name honestly I’m not too proud of, I didn’t wanna spend too much brain juice on it :’> But the cover.....

Obligatory ShB spoiler warning!

- Investigating each other. They’ve become completely new people since ARR.

- Despite what he thinks of himself, our lord and savior Crystal Exarch has the ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ grandeur ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆.

- Vivi’s self-image is similar, he doesn’t see himself as anything grand no it’s not a height joke but Exarch rapidly grows in his eyes as he learns about him.

- He sports an outfit I once doodled and found cute, I’m just being cheeky about his newfound obsession.

- He also appears fragile to Exarch, who’s literally seen a world where he died being this young. Exarch wants to protect him, to say the least.

- Vivi’s perceived helplessness and lack of agency in ShB, although it’s nothing he hasn’t already been through in his other WoL misadventures.

- The Light, of course the wicked white surrounding them.

Episode 12 I’m proud of writing-wise, but not art-wise. Turns out the Ocular is a bigger bitch to draw/paint than I’d anticipated, and, although I’ve mostly figured it out by now (having just released episode 16 for patrons), the colors and light in the episode 12 will forever stick out like a sore thumb to me, probably until I find the time to redraw it. Same goes for the Scions, learning to draw a whole bunch of new characters over a week (roughly, an episode takes 7~14 days to complete), well, I should’ve taken a bigger break and practiced some more.

I’d even apply the ugly word “crunch” to this episode. But ah, the best page wasn’t crunched, hell started breaking loose a bit later. Yeah I don’t work in order, usually I do the most important frames first.

A bit of a sidetrack: even though I sometimes find myself wanting for more time between episodes, I don’t think I can afford making the releases even more sparse, current 2-week cycle ensures that this story WILL reach its finale in some distant 2028 if not later, I’m not kidding, it might take even longer and I’ve only been working on the script for a year. The broad strokes are complete, but I indulge in adding more sweet nonsense here and there. Or sometimes a raw af dialogue pops up in my head and MUST be included in some chapter. In other words, help, this behemoth keeps growing.

Personally I’m loyal to my fandoms, and not in a rush to finish the comic, but my mmo experience bangs on that nothing lasts forever: I don’t know where the xiv community would be in 5+ years from now, and I need A LOT of people supporting me, allowing me to work on this full time. So I’d rather keep a steady pace while it’s still possible.

As I get more xp in painting backgrounds and learn all the ShB character designs, it should become easier for me. Currently I’m fumbling through a new field, so please bear with me :’D

Back to the main topic: I came up with and scrapped at least 2 ideas of the transition between ARR and ShB, the timeskip was always planned, but Vivi needed some more introduction still. Current iteration of Exarch “interviewing” the Scions seems the most fun and creative to me.

Also, tea parties with Urianger and Feo Ul :> They’re his only two friends in my hc, Urianger he purposely revealed himself to, and Feo Ul, merely being a soul in a sparkly shell, can see Exarch’s soul as well, hoods are useless. All while they’re somewhat reliable, truly the paragon of pixies who wouldn’t randomly spill his secrets (probably).

Vivi’s a mirror. Every single one of us is, to some degree. We react and adapt to the way the others treat us, and so does Vivi. Unintentionally, of course. It’s a natural “passive trait”. All the Scions except Urianger (for the same reason he managed to trick the pixies, he’s just a special smartass) see their reflections in Vivi, direct or warped.

Y’shtola is basically this:

Can’t promise equal amounts of screentime for all the Scions, but the twins and Thancred are the closest to Vivi, you’ll definitely see more of them.

He’s 26 now, which is still rather young by the elezen standards, and he’s way too tired (tm) probably like most WoLs at this point in time.

Maybe not of life itself, but he’s definitely sick of the Source and all its inhabitants. For all he cares, this place can go to hells.

His state just so happens to be perfect for the isekai love story that awaits him. How did he get there? I know, you’ll have to stick around until I deem it appropriate to drop some flashback episodes. I’m leery of loredumping too early on: firstly, you current readers will get more invested over time, therefore have more fun learning about him at a later point; secondly, I’m personally not a fan of tragic backstories right in yo face, before the main story gets a chance to breathe. And, mind you, Vivi’s past isn’t even THAT tragic, just, well.. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes \o/

In this episode I wanted to show his practical approach to things. He may possess an Echo, Blessing, soul stone and whatnot else, but gotta stick a good ol’ dagger in a boot just in case. He’s a doubter, just a tiny bit paranoid.

Also he has The Chair (tm) where he dumps clothes on. His room in the Rising Stones looks vague for now because we indeed don’t return there for years in real time, I don’t need to spend my energy on designing this room in detail just yet.

Most items don’t hold any special meaning, he simply prepares for a journey into the unknown. Well, there’s the journal he dumps his cringy thoughts in, and doodles sometimes. The trinket he holds here is a Princess Ai easter egg:

I talked about Vivi’s character influences and inspirations here if you haven’t seen yet C:

Exarch’s glorious meltdown does a good job averting eyes from Feo Ul being right there in the beginning of the episode 14, but yeah they’re present not for no reason :>

Mentally he’s still in the msq cutscene.

Gotta mention that there’s no amnesia, insanity, or other sad brain fuckery ever in this comic. Vivi’s head’s made of dense and sturdy stuff x’D

Just a meme I made because I had to :>

There isn’t much Deep Meaning in this episode, the visuals speak for themselves, and I’m DAMN PROUD of them.

We don’t see Exarch in this moment ingame, so I took my creative liberty to illustrate the range of emotions he goes through in like 5 minutes before finally rushing out to meet his hero in person, forgetting that he can teleport at will (yet another hc of mine) anywhere in the Tower’s vicinity, and doing so on foot.

That’s it for now, thank you for reading this and enjoying Fragments C:

#ffxiv #shb spoilers #ffxiv: fragments #fragment ii: new world old friend #fragments talk #*wheezes* that's a lotta tags #vivien rell #crystal exarch #g'raha tia #wol x g'raha tia #wolgraha #own: next lvl

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thotthumb · 10 days

Text

Robert Chase x Older! Man/Reader Brainrot

ADULT CONTENT UNDER THE CUT. DO NOT READ IF UNDER THE AGE OF 18

This was made with transmascs and men in mind! Please know that the reader has a dick or strap in this one!

Content Warnings: Chase is giving head to an older guy, power imbalance due to the positions held, office blowjob, under the desk blowjob, somebody walks in at the end, sex in front of somebody else but they don’t explicitly know

Word Count: 628

Authors Note: I’m just posting some brainrot that I’ve been sitting on. Should I try to make a part 2 of this one or just leave it?

“Four years of college, four at med-school, two years residency, another four years of sub-specialty training, and where do I end up?” “Between my legs with my cock down your throat, now stop talking and put this back in your mouth, Dr. Chase.”

How the fuck did he get himself in this predicament? He had a old ass but very attractive man fisting his hair in one hand and with their other hand pressing his fingers into the sides of his jaw to keep his mouth open wide. His throat had been bullied by what he’d personally call an oversized cock for what felt like hours but he knows it hasn’t. There was a clock on the shelf behind the desk he was currently hidden under that he could read. Yes, he’s under the desk of the Administrative Assistant, in his office at the hospital that they both work at.

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this, he knows he shouldn’t be giving head to his technical boss and especially not at his place of work! But there’s something about an older man just using his mouth to get off that seemingly fixes something (somebody get this man a therapy session and a dilf).

“Come on, put it in your mouth and make me feel good.” He urged, leaving Chase to grind against the older man’s outstretched leg with a slight shudder before finally taking the throbbing dick back into his mouth. He reached a hand down to the tight tent in his pants, borderline humping his hand in an attempt to relieve some of his need for friction. “There you go,” he grunted before a guttural groan slipped past, causing the older man to look towards the door to his office. He couldn’t tell if it was locked but he didn’t have any meetings scheduled so there shouldn’t be any interruptions. He wasn’t going to pull the young man off his length anyways.

“You can go farther than that, take it all,” Chase looked up to him through his lashes, asking if he had to because the amount he had taken was already a lot. “Don’t give me that look, you’ve taken all of it in every hole you have. You can do it again, brat,” He looked down at him with his lids half closed and a type of lust written on his entire face. Chase moaned lightly (to the best of his ability given his mouth being full) at his words. How can a professional speak that vulgarly?

His boss felt that he was taking too long to comply so he lifted up his hips, thrusting deep into his mouth and causing the poor man to gag, choking at the sudden intrusion. His hands immediately shot up to grip at his thighs, his lashes now clumped together with tears. He was trying so hard to even out his breathing and relax his throat, his nails digging into the flesh and leaving little crescent moons in the skin. He clenched his eyes shut for a moment only to open them widely when he heard the door to the office open.

His boss scooted forward in the chair, pushing Chase back further under the desk but also pinning him so he couldn’t take his cock out of his mouth. He grunted and the feeling of having his dick so far down his throat that he could feel Chase’s nose pressing against his stomach slightly. Chase could really only hope that this would be a short conversation otherwise with how sensitive the Administrative Assistant is currently he might end up just blowing down his throat. Especially with how he’s still rocking his hips in and out of Chase’s mouth while talking to.? Who came in again? “House? What are you doing here?”

Oh shit.

#smut #house md smut #house md #robert chase #Robert Chase smut #Robert Chase x reader smut #x male reader smut #Robert Chase x male reader smut #Robert chase x reader #Robert Chase x male reader #x reader #x reader smut #x male reader

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kageyuji · 2 months

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Hii! This is my first time trying this, but do you have any advice for starting and building a writing blog?

I've been wanting to start one for a while but I'm not sure how to gain followers and stuff.

hi!! no worries :D and tbh.. i’m not exactly sure LMAO despite it seeming like i have my shit together i Do Not. but!! i can give you some general things/ideas:

write for yourself. write what makes you happy and what you genuinely want to write. despite how much of a people-pleaser i am, it’s also really important to remember that this is a hobby and if you write things you don’t really want to write, it’s going to show through your work but it’s also going to burn you out quickly.

(that said, if you are writing for x reader content make sure your reader is ambiguous. having a character be a 5’4 brunette with a knack for baking is cool sometimes, but it’s also a very slim audience and it’s going to throw some people off)

similarly, don’t compare yourself to other creators and don’t compare yourself to.. yourself. if you have something that does really good, and then you post the next week and it does shit, that’s okay! sometimes tumblr algorithm is just shit. sometimes certain characters are more of a fan favorite. but, also remember that people who have already built a large following are going to have more notes. just don’t get discouraged easily — every fic is something entirely new and it shouldn’t be weighed off of someone else or an entirely different work.

make a masterlist, and make it organized. if you write for a lot of characters and use different posting types this can get really confusing, but look around at other places or play around with it until you find something that you think feels right.

watch your blog activity (once you start posting, anyway). i believe mobile doesn’t have it, but on desktop (or just login to tumblr from your phones browser app lol) there is a little icon that will show interactions with your posts/blog and you can ask it to show the chart based on time of day, weekly basis, etc. post accordingly to that, and hopefully your posts will gain a little more traction :)

aesthetic is (unfortunately) pretty important in my opinion. of course, if you have the most well written thing i’ve seen i’m going to ignore the kinks but i’m also going to be a lot more likely to read things that are organized well. this is mostly about fics to catch someone’s eye, although this bleeds into your actual blog as well.

(pinterest has lots of cool stuff for aesthetics. twitter layout blogs also usually have a lot of good headers. if you want dividers, you can search the “dividers” tag on tumblr or there’s loads of mobile apps to get the thin color strip dividers like i use.)

similarly, try to make your pinned/navi organized and easy to follow. in my personal opinion, i like adding things like rules/dni, tag guides, and especially masterlists linked somewhere in the post. although, again, it’s up to personal opinion on what exactly you want to link there. as long as it’s organized and somewhat simple, you’re good.

as far as a masterlist and rules go, i would recommend laying out certain things beforehand, like what characters you’re going to write for and hard “no”s. as much as i love people on tumblr, sometimes they just cannot read — it helped me a lot whenever i was new to tell myself “hey, i don’t have to do that. it says that right here and it’s not my fault that they didn’t see that!”

(i also added a little rule that said “if you actually read this, add a ‘<3’ in your asks so i know” LOL it helped me filter requests between who actually cared to read my rules and who didn’t)

add tags to your fics. add so many tags. add many more tags than you think you probably need. add so many tags that you get sick of them — that’s how people are going to find you.

try to keep anonymous asks on, that’s where a lot of interaction comes from. ik people can be dicks sometimes but there’s also a lot of shy people on tumblr. probably 90% of my asks are from anons and i use anon 90% of the time whenever i send asks (especially to my moots bc they’re scary :[ lol)

just generally be nice to people. you don’t have to go out of your way to send love letters to everyone on your feed, but i’ve found that just leaving a little “i hope you enjoy reading this” or something similar as a little note helps my mental for some reason, but it also (hopefully) makes me seem a little less intimidating

#i hope this helped!! if you have any other questions please lmk 🫶#lore.txt #msg: ghosts

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5and3nevermind · 4 months

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I was looking at your pinned post and from the descriptions I didn't see it, but I didn't go into each one, so sorry if you have already talked a bunch about this, but I wanted to ramble on about and see if you had any thoughts/feelings/etc about Yoongi's surgery and the way Jimin acted pretty much throughout.

Like, of course all the members missed him, but I don't think anyone was as vocal as Jimin was about how much he felt Yoongi's absence during group events, and even lives where he talked about it and seemed worried or sad, we know he was pretty sad in general around that time but it really felt like Yoongi's absence affected Jimin a lot. And then, we heard from Yoongi himself how Jimin called him before and after the surgery to make sure he was ok, and that Jimin watched him do physical therapy. I guess that could mean a few things, but I think the general consensus among Yoonminers (honestly, I don't think I've ever seen a non-Yoonminer even acknowledge the physical therapy thing) is that Jimin was there for some of Yoongi's appointments and was maybe taught how to help (going by that one Run episode where he lifts Yoongi to stand and holds his arm in the correct way to keep from hurting him, which signified to a lot of us that he was at least made aware of how to do that).

And then, I haven't actually seen these two things connected, but I have had the thought of how I can't remember who told us, but Jimin or Yoongi telling us that they have been working out together, I have sort of wondered if, other than enjoying spending time together, Jimin having at least some knowledge of what Yoongi may need assistance in regarding working out makes him a good workout buddy for Yoongi, because he was there in the early days too.

That whole time, and the connecting instances feel so important in regards to their relationship, whether you see it at romantic or platonic, I just don't understand the people who say that Yoongi and Jimin aren't that close, or wave them off as nothing special when we have moments like these that I just don't believe can mean anything less than an extremely important and close relationship.

If nothing else, I'm just very happy these two have each other in their lives.

Hi anon! I’ve talked a little bit about surgery era. You can see the posts with that tag here. You also might find this post interesting since it relates to yoonmin and health issues. (I’m still trying to figure out what to put in my pinned post so that it’s actually helpful. 😅)

You’ve brought up a lot of great points here! I agree that all of the members missed Yoongi, but Jimin definitely seemed the most vocal. And I think it’s important to note that Yoongi was very vocal in return about Jimin’s support. That shows us it wasn’t simply an issue of Jimin being sad or emotional in general because we see the connection through Yoongi’s words too, not just Jimin’s. Which means that while Jimin seemed particularly affected by Yoongi’s absence, Yoongi also seemed to focus specifically on Jimin’s support.

Your point about working out together is excellent! I hadn’t thought of those two issues being connected, but they certainly could be! I think the first time they discussed it was festa 2021, which would have been post-surgery, so the timing makes sense.

Another thing noteworthy about surgery era was that Jimin seems to have been put in charge of “Yoongi updates and phone calls.” That role could have gone to Joon as leader, but instead it was Jimin who called him during the award show, during the BE-era group live, etc. Jimin served as our source for updates, besides those from Yoongi himself. Like so many yoonmin moments, we can’t say that’s proof of romantic feelings, but it certainly sets Jimin apart as being uniquely familiar with how Yoongi was doing.

I agree that whatever they are—romantic or platonic—their bond is very special. It’s too bad that some people don’t see it, but I think certain parts of the fandom avoid information that doesn’t correspond to what they already believe. I could go on, but this is probably a topic for another post! Anyway, there’s really no way to deny these two are close. The evidence is scattered everywhere across 10+ years!

Thanks for the ask and happy new year!

#yoonmin #ask #surgery era

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junosmindpalace · 2 years

Note

Hi! Could you please write some Kita x Reader fluff&romance where they’re in a healthy and happy relationship?

Everyone is happy for them and they’re seen as an ideal couple (and Atsumu’s always complaining about how he wants what they have/ Kita’s so lucky when is it going to be his turn?)

Reader goes to volleyball practice whenever they can to cheer on Kita&the team, and Kita visits Reader’s club whenever he gets the chance to support them and their activities.

Almost every interaction/relationship that I’ve ever had has been toxic/immature/shallow so I would love it if you could write something wholesome/pure/positive! (Please let me live vicariously through these two 😭😭😭)

Thank you so much for indulging us with your writing and I hope you have a great day!!! ♥️

"dating shinsuke kita means..."

i’m so sorry you’ve had so many toxic relationship experiences :( kita would be the absolute best boyfriend i adore him so much!! i've recently been getting back into my hq/jjk phases so i was excited to get a hq request!

warnings: none <3

words: 1,385

note: i tried a bit of a different formatting! might come back and edit this.

Constructive feedback is always welcome! I’m always looking to improve!

Requests are open! (check my pinned post!)

dating shinsuke kita means giving and receiving lots of encouragement and support.

kita loves it when you stop by the gym during his practices. you usually show up when you finish schoolwork and club activities of your own to bring him and the rest of inarizaki’s volleyball team food and beverages. his team adores you for the kindness you show them and for taking care of their seemingly very serious and independent captain. you love to support kita’s passions and are there for every one of his games, always cheering and yelling words of encouragement that kita’s ears set apart from the rest of the noises in arenas and gyms. he’s not one to need motivational words--he’s confident in things he’s proven he can pull off--, but his heart still swells and his lips form a small small at your loving words that only make him more determined to do his best.

do not think for one second this is one-sided. kita has incorporated visiting your clubroom into his daily routines, whether to observe whatever it is you’re doing or to help you out however he’s capable of. he’s attentive to your hobbies and does his best to familiarize himself with them so he can support you in the best ways possible. you are his s/o after all; the things that matter to you matter to him too. kita admires the goals you’ve set for yourself and how persistent you are in achieving them, and he’s more than willing to help you out along the way, just the same as how you are with him.

dating shinsuke kita means acts of service.

one of kita’s most prominent love languages is taking care of the people he loves and encouraging their growth through his actions. kita can be a bit cold and harsh with his words, but it’s typically because he finds it important that his intentions are communicated properly with no room for contemplation or misunderstanding. his bluntness overall is good feedback.

kita’s priority will always be your health, both physical and mental. he likes to cook, and so sometimes he’ll give you healthy snacks he prepared himself at lunch with a treat for when you finish (because there's gotta be a balance). you two fill up each other's water bottles throughout the day because staying hydrated is also very important, and oh, don’t think you can get away with staying up on a school night because kita will know. your sluggish behavior and dark circles are a dead giveaway. again, he can be a bit blunt when confronting you, but he just wants you to be getting your sleep so you don’t lag behind throughout the day.

as stated, kita is very attentive to your hobbies. he’ll take you to events you expressed interest in and center dates around things you love. one of your most memorable dates was when he prepared a night in for the two of you to try a couple of recipes that ended with watching a movie and eating homemade brownies. he’s taken you to festivals and concerts, to arcades, to the movies; everywhere you can possibly dream of, he’s taken you at least once.

you help kita manage the volleyball club even though you aren’t a manager (the other members, specifically atsumu, have asked you to be several times, though.) and stay up to date on the events that revolve around them. you’ve also tried to familiarize yourself with the sport, and when you subtly bring up the technicalities you’ve learned while the team discusses game plans, your boyfriend is visibly impressed.

dating shinsuke kita means getting complimented. by everyone on everything.

it seems the two of you are the perfect couple, and you’re constantly being told so. anyone who knows the two of you personally can see how wonderful of a pair you both make, and some people (again, specifically atsumu, who is crying in anguish), are even jealous of how well you and kita work together. kita’s friends are always telling him how lucky he is to have you in his life and he can’t help himself from smiling and saying “yeah, I am lucky” every single time because it’s you.

your friends are all over your boyfriend as well. they melt every time kita shows you the slightest bit of pda or hear about the sweet things he’s done for you because, wow, shinsuke kita is the ideal guy for so many people, and they grieve over the fact that they don’t have your same kind of love. “when is it my turn?!” they’ll rasp out dramatically while clutching their chest as kita intertwines his fingers with yours, and you’d both chuckle while leaning against him.

what your peers wouldn’t give to have a partner that looks at them the way you two look at each other.

dating shinsuke kita means he doesn’t shy away from affection.

kita isn’t one to be all over you, but he isn’t one to shy away from pda either. he’s not trying to uphold any reputation, so he’s definitely not embarrassed to let his loving gaze toward you linger or to even kiss you in front of his classmates.

frequently holds your hand and finds it sooo endearing when you swing them back and forth. he loves to kiss your hands too- the palm, the knuckles, it’s just so simple and so sweet and it makes you flustered as hell which is always an amusing sight. he mostly does it subconsciously, but he always guides you away from anything that he feels might make you uncomfortable or unsafe. the type to subtly move you when walking next to a road so that he’s closer to the traffic and not you, the type to give you a gentle tug away from large crowds or to put his arm around you so you don’t accidentally lose him, just much smaller affectionate acts that put both your minds and hearts at ease.

casual touching is his favorite form of physical affection because there’s a sense of security in it that you both really love. the casual intimacy of rubbing your arm or back to soothe you when you’re stressed or trying to fall asleep, or when your foreheads are pressed together and you just sigh, taking those moments to recollect yourself and admire your boyfriend- it’s so very heartwarming. the two of you didn’t need to show your love in grand ways, but that didn’t mean kita has never spoiled you before (he’s for sure bought you gifts and taken you out to expensive restaurants. man has class).

most importantly, dating shinsuke kita means having stability in your relationship.

kita brings everything you could ever hope to have in a relationship to the table: stability, security, inspiration and encouragement. he always has your back no matter what. you and kita are perfect, not because you never argue or because you’re constantly over each other- that couldn’t be farther from the truth. no, you and kita are perfect because you two have the patience to work through your differences and overcome obstacles in your relationship. you two work so well together because you love and trust each other enough to recognize that there are times where one or the other is busy or needs time to themselves and be okay with it. you love and trust each other enough to sit down and have mature conversations and communicate your wants and needs.

of course, the occasional argument springs up because the two of you are only human and miscommunications tend to happen, and it’s in your sensitive natures to let things get a bit heated. of course, sometimes these arguments result in an exchange of harsh words and temporary silence while you both reflect on your situation and think about how you want to proceed. at the end of the day, clashes here and there are unavoidable, but it’s about how you both go about handling them that reflects the tenderness of your relationship.

shinsuke kita believes in commitment, process and self-assurance, but he also believes in hardships, self-improvement and fulfillment. he believes in himself, but he also believes in you. and dating shinsuke kita means you will never have to navigate these things alone.

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notyour-valentine · 1 year

Text

Welcome to Downton, Mr Shelby 6 ~ Tommy Shelby x Crawley!OC (Series)

[Masterlist] [Taglist] [Series Masterlist]

Summary: Back at Downton, Charlotte receives a call as Tommy puts his plan in motion.

Note: After putting this series on the backburner thanks to the celebration, we are back and I hope you enjoy

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Wordcount: 5249 words

Part 6

[Previously]

She ran her fingers through Isis’ pale fur. The dog huffed, and turned in her lap, so that she could rub her belly, just like she knew she liked it.

“Just make sure not to get hair all over your dress, dear.”, her mother said, looking up from her needlework.

“I’ll be careful, I promise.”, she said, knowing she probably wouldn’t be able to keep it.

What gives?, she thought.

It was already after tea and in less than an hour or two she’d have to begin to change for dinner either way.

And it was an easy sacrifice to make when it made Isis so very happy.

As if to prove her point, she wiggled around on the carpet where she had been lounging in the afternoon sun.

Then the doors were opened and both she and her mother looked up.

For a split second she saw Carson, but only when he closed the doors again, after her sister.

“Mary!”, Cora greeted her eldest daughter. “You’re back already?”

She got up and quickly rubbed down her dress to get rid of the worst.

Mary went to their mother first, kissing her cheek in greeting.

“How was York?”, Cora asked while it was Charlotte’s turn to kiss her sister.

“Dreadfully dull.”, Mary sighed. “Compared to London it is as if I have stepped into a time machine. All those dreary colours remind me of the war - Edith would have a blast.”

Cora tilted her head and gave her a scolding look.

“Mary, that’s not very nice.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true.”, she hissed under her breath.

“Anyhow, I best go upstairs before Papa sees me in here in my coat and hat.”

As she turned, she offered her a soft smile and nodded to the door, and Charlotte hurried to follow.

“I’m going to London next week.”, Mary announced once they were in the hall, Carson taking her coat.

She offered him a smile in thanks before taking her sister’s arm.

“You ought to come. We can do some shopping, hm?”

“Weren’t you just in York for shopping?”, Charlotte asked.

Mary scoffed.

“York was a disappointment. I need new shoes, new clothes - I barely had time to buy a thing during your season and now, in the post war world, fashion really has moved on.”

Charlotte presumed she had a point.

“Well we are no longer in the Edwardian times.”, she said, as they entered Mary’s room.

“You needn’t ring for Anna, I can help you.”

Mary only shrugged as she sat down at her dressing table.

“So I can count you in then?”, she asked as Charlotte began to pull out the hat pins from her sister’s hair. “For London?”

Charlotte sighed, her eyes glancing out the window at the green plains and gentle hills of their home.

It was exciting in London, but it wasn’t home and she had never been away for as long as she had during her season.

It was good to be back and she didn’t yet feel the need to leave, at least not for shopping with Mary.

“I don’t think I’ll be of much use. You know far more of fashion and besides, I’ve only just gotten my season wardrobe.”

In fact, her sister did not only know fashion, she seemed to be fashion, tall, pale, with dark hair and dark eyes - more often than not she looked just like one of those women in the magazines or in the pictures.

Compared to Mary, most women, including Charlotte, looked comly.

Mary tsked in disapproval, but not without a smirk. “You still have a lot to learn, Charlotte, dear.”

“And a lot to buy.”, she added.

Charlotte had wanted to undo Mary’s bun too to brush out the hair, but instead her eldest sister got up and sat down on her chaise longe, stretching out her long legs.

“Will Edith come too?”, she wanted to know.

Mary snorted.

“She’ll just spoil the whole thing.”

Charlotte sat down on the foot of her bed, her fingers playing with the painted wood.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about out sister.”

Mary rolled her eyes, lounging on the sofa like an Egyptian Queen of old.

“It has nothing to do with her being my sister and everything to do with her being Edith.”, she sneered.

Didn't Cleopatra have her own sister killed?

Charlotte was about to say something, when they heard a knock on the door.

“Come in.”, Mary said.

It was Anna, who greeted them with a small curtsy.

“They told me you’re back, Milady!”, she said with a soft smile.

“I come empty handed, I am afraid.”, Mary sighed.

“That’s too bad.”, Anna said, before turning to Charlotte.

“There’s a telephone for you downstairs, Milady.”

“For me?”, she asked, looking just as surprised as Mary who leaned up at that.

“From whom?”, she asked to know.

“A Mr. Shelby, Mr. Carson said..”

Mary frowned.

“Where do I know that name from?”, she asked.

Charlotte felt her cheeks burn.

“I think he was a friend of May Carleton’s.”, she tried, and hurried out of the room as quickly as she dared without seeming suspicious.

And yet she could feel Mary’s eyes on her all the same.

The telephone was all the way down in the hall, and she could see Carson on the other side, guarding the door to the sitting room.

He wasn’t listening, but she wasn’t as foolish to think he wouldn’t pick up on things.

“Hello?”, she asked, as she picked up the hearer.

“Where did they drag you from?”, the familiar, low voice asked.

“I was with my sister. We only have one telephone, it is quite a distance from her bedroom. I do apologise for keeping you waiting.”

The other telephone was all the way in the servant’s quarters and it wasn’t like she could just go there.

“Which one?”, he asked.

Charlotte leaned against the table and smiled. Knowing he cared somehow made her feel a little gladder than it should have.

“Mary. You’ve met her.”

She heard a chuckle from the other line.

“May’s Mary.”

Charlotte bit back a giggle. “If you call her that to her face, I cannot guarantee your safety.”

That made him chuckle too- that low, breathless, barely there chuckle, sounding almost like a huff. But it accompanied a slight smile and knowing that it was there, was enough.

And yet she couldn’t say why it mattered so much to her.

“So…”, she finally said, “Why did you call, Mr Shelby?”

“About your list.”, he said.

Her heart skipped a beat, even if technically it was Edith’s list and not hers. But if he called, that meant he found some use in it.

“Yes?”

“I want to go over it with you.”

His words stunned her into silence for a moment.

“Oh alright, ahm, I don’t have all too long, but-”

“No.”, he said, interrupting her swiftly, in that quiet yet forceful way. He didn’t need to get loud or even insistent to bring his point across.

Charlotte had seen it with others, but felt it too. It made him a very difficult person to argue with.

“I want to meet up in person.”

“Oh.”, she gasped, looking around the hall, realising she had said it a little too loud for Carson not to notice, trying to think of how to solve that request.

Perhaps he could come for tea when they were in London, but then Rosamund and Mary would have a field day of picking him apart.

“So, dinner?”, he asked after a moment.

She nearly gasped in shock as her eyes widened.

Well that is not possible at all.

What was he thinking? Without a chaperone or mutual acquaintance?

No, that wouldn’t do at all, not in the slightest.

But at the same time she didn’t want to put him off entirely.

She began to twirl the cable with nervous fingers.

“I am in London soon.”, she began, thanking Mary’s hunger for fashionability for giving her the excuse she needed.

“How about lunch instead, or tea? We could go back to that tea shop we went to the last.”, she suggested. It was bending the rules, but not quite breaking them.

“Lunch then.”, Mr Shelby suggested. “Does Thursday work for you?”

“I believe so, yes.”

At least I will make it work.

“Good. I’ll pick you up from your aunt’s at twelve thirty?"

Charlotte couldn’t help but smile, even if the suggestion was a little scandalous.

I’ll just have to make sure they don’t see you - oh how exciting!

She’d have to tell Cousin Rose about this!

“That would be lovely!”, she insisted.

After she hung up, Charlotte took a deep breath to calm herself.

When she turned, she saw Mary make her descent on the stairs.

“The Mr. Shelby we met at the Carletons?”, Mary asked. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I didn’t.”, Charlotte said, as they returned to the drawing room to find their mother. “But he apologised and since he has become interested in the organisation where I volunteer- the soup kitchen for impoverished veterans.”

“Interested in soup?”, Mary asked, raising her eyebrow.

“In helping the veterans.”, she insisted sharply as she sat down next to her mother. “As a veteran himself.”

“Oh please,”, her sister said, “everyone under fifty is a veteran. It’s nothing special.”

She knew she had not meant to hurt her feelings, but it still stung.

“Why is it so hard to believe that someone would be interested in charity?”, Charlotte asked, getting defensive on her own accord.

“I didn’t say that.”, she quickly defended herself, “I merely wondered if he might also be otherwise interested.”

She glanced from her mother to Mary and back as her face began to burn.

“Well what do we know about this Mr. Shelby?”, Cora asked.

When Charlotte didn’t answer, she turned to Mary.

“Not much. He’s not landed nor titled, I'm afraid."

Her mother hummed.

“A self made man. I’m afraid your father won’t like that.”

Charlotte’s face burned bright red.

“There’s nothing to like. I merely saw him at the soup kitchen!”

Instead of engaging with her intervention, Mary just continued.

“He has a racehorse, which May Carleton trains. And May seems to be quite fond of him.”

She gave her a knowing look but Charlotte inhaled sharply.

"It would be quite amusing to see her reaction to you and Mr. Shelby. She would feel like history is repeating itself."

Charlotte glared at her. "Mary, that is cruel."

Especially since she had always made May feel that it was her that turned down Ian and not the other way around. Now at least, with him gone, she expected Mary would let it rest.

“I won’t be dragged into your feud with May Carleton!”

“Sweetling, you are my sister.”, Mary said, not without a smile, "You are already in this feud.”

As soon as Tommy had parked the car, he wondered if he should go up and ring the doorbell, although he didn’t quite fancy the idea of being confronted by her aunt’s butler.

Still, it might be the polite thing to do and he didn’t want to come across as rude for not doing it.

She might not like that.

But before he had time to decide, the doors were opened, and she came out rather in a hurry, wearing a powder blue dress with a matching open summer coat and a hat.

Very sweet, like something off of a postcard from the beaches down south.

“I thought I’d spare you the way up.”, she said once she was seated in the front of his car, just the slightest bit out of breath.

“And help you to avoid the interrogation of my aunt and sister.”

“Ah,”, Tommy said as he started the car, “I have dealt with a few interrogations in my time.”

She tilted her head.

“But they are quite formidable.”

His body ached at the memory of the interrogations he had been subjected to, the blows to his face, the kicks to his stomach, Sabini digging around in his mouth - for her to think that the worst possible kind was a few harsh questions and sharp looks was like something from another world.

Her world.

It was only by luck - or by poor luck - that she had stumbled into his.

When he started to drive, he quickly noticed how she stared at every movement his hands made, both on the steering wheel and with the gear stick.

“What’s so interesting?”, he asked with a hint of a smile, not too much that it would appear insincere but just enough to take the edge off his words.

“I’ve never seen someone drive up close before.”, she admitted almost coyly, “last time, when we went to the tea shop I wasn’t exactly paying attention.”

“And before that?”

“I never got to sit in the front.”, she said. “It looks very complicated.”

“It’s easy once you get the hang of it.”, he assured her. “Someone just has to teach you.”

Her cheeks flushed and she quickly looked away.

“I don’t think I will ever be allowed."

She glanced at her lap where her hands, covered in short white day gloves, were playing with the button on her bag.

"My father wouldn’t approve."

"Didn't you say your sister drives?”

Tommy had made sure to recall every little thing she had told him, every detail he could use to make a connection, to find common ground.

“Edith, yes. But she learned during the war. That was different.”

Yes, Tommy thought, the war was different.

Apparently for them as well.

He had decided to take her to the Connaught, a recommendation of May’s, so it was only a short drive.

He helped her out of the car and escorted her up the steps, making sure to stay close but not too close.

These things were to be managed delicately.

Once inside, he quickly noticed how her eyes traced the room, glancing at the waiters, and the other diners.

They were as round as that of a child’s on their first visit to a sweets shop.

“Are you alright?”, he asked once they were seated.

“Yes.”, she said breathlessly but her hands trembled slightly. “It’s only…so strange that all this is possible now, don’t you think?”

Tommy felt the muscles on his back tightened. He still had a comparably small reputation, but a reputation still. It wasn’t impossible that she had found out about his past, and his rise. Still, he didn’t need reminding of the steep climb he had taken.

Especially from a silly girl who never had to fight for a thing in her life. Why should she get to even have an opinion on his development when her family had been stagnant for centuries?

“It seems so normal now when just a few years ago it would have been unthinkable for us to eat in a public place like this.”

Tommy felt his cheek muscles twitch.

“A restaurant, you mean?”, he asked.

She nodded, her eyes filled with awe as she didn't look at him, but around once more. “It just wasn’t allowed before the war.”

He blinked twice, as his muscles relaxed slightly.

She's not talking about me - but that meant…

“Are you really telling me that you’ve never eaten in a restaurant before the war?”

Tommy didn’t exactly have a picture perfect upbringing but even they had had a bite to eat in a pub or an inn from time to time, even if those instances were few and far between.

“My mother once took us to the Ritz,”, she began, a shy smile on her lips and a glint in her eye. “My grandmother was so angry and outraged with her for doing that, she refused to speak to her for a whole month. It would have been a right scandal if we had been seen.”

“Outraged for taking you to the Ritz?”

She nodded, while Tommy bit back a huff of disbelief.

If any one of the Small Heath boys had even come within a hundred feet of the Ritz they would have been sent off with a clout around the ear and a kick to the backside -if not worse, while for her family it was such a scandal to go.

That girl wasn’t from another world, she was from a whole other universe, it seemed.

“And of course, during the war we haven’t been anywhere, so…”

She smiled shyly as her cheeks turned red, glancing down at her plate.

“You must think me an awfully foolish country dumpling now. Please forgive me.”, she asked softly.

There was nothing to forgive, even if it was difficult to get past.

“Were there many rules, many limitations for you growing up?”, he wanted to know.

“Rules, yes, of course. But I would not consider them limitations, not before the war. But I presume everyone thinks that about their own childhood.”

Tommy took a sip of his drink. He had been all too aware of the limitations of his own childhood - how could he not when he felt it on his bare feet on the cold hard streets of Birmingham, or in the pit of his own stomach when he hadn’t eaten for days as there simply hadn’t been enough for all of them and he had let the little ones have his share.

But she continued and so he didn’t have to.

“In Yorkshire there is not much else to do, and you can’t exactly go anywhere without people knowing who you are. So there is no chance of getting away with anything remotely naughty."

A wave of sadness washed over her face.

“It was all we knew but then the war came and we realised that life could be quite different.”

“Quite.”, Tommy mumbled.

“Now, at least, we know what we are missing.”, she said with a smile. “My sister writes of all the fun things she can do now that she’s away from h-”

She broke off and swallowed hard, looking down at her lap, before meeting his eyes again with an apologetic smile.

“Your youngest sister?”, he asked diplomatically.

Charlotte Crawley took another sip of her drink. She had turned pale again, and the glint in her eye was gone. After putting it down, her hand found her chest once more.

“I presume it is the gossip story of the season. It would have been too unlikely for you not to know.”

She put her guard back up, Tommy noticed. Just why, he couldn’t say, but he knew. It was as if he was talking to a whole different person. The Lady he had angered at May’s house, not the girl volunteering at the soup kitchen.

“What does she write?”, he asked, trying to sound as gentle as he could, in a hope ot salvage what was left.

She hesitated for a moment, weighing her options and he knew she was weighing up if she could trust him. He kept his silence, not wanting to try to sway or convince her. She either trusted him or she didn’t.

“Well,”, she said, glancing down at her plate as Tommy held his breath.

“She works as a nurse now, in a children’s hospital in Dublin and Bran- her husband works as a journalist.”

He made note correction.

“They live together in an apartment, just the two. So they do everything themselves, the cooking, the cleaning.”

She swallowed hard. “It might seem benign, but Sybil had to fight hard to be allowed to learn how to cook. She is so incredibly proud of it."

“Your father didn’t approve?”, he asked. It was a safe bet, and one that paid out.

“He was against the whole idea of her becoming a nurse, as was my mother. But they didn’t know beforehand. Carson, our butler, was very much opposed too, as he didn’t think it proper.”

Carson the butler, she said it so casually, just like he might mention his uncle Charlie.

“Now, she does what she pleases, goes where she wants to go. To all the places, all the restaurants and even pubs, apparently.”

From her tone her sister might have gone to the moon.

But she was so excited when she spoke of her, her eyes glittering and that smile- that gentle, loving smile of pride and adoration that never left, even as she spoke.

All because her sister could go to a pub.

“No one cares if what she does is in accordance with the rules. She mustn’t even be careful not to be seen because no one there knows her. They just know her as Mrs. Branson so there is no fear of endangering the good name of the family. She is so free from any form of convention and can even go to rallies and discussions and protests.”

She said her sister’s name in a whisper, as if it were a secret code, but he couldn’t understand it - not yet.

“Your sister is political?”, Tommy asked.

“Very, as is her husband.”, she said. “But she couldn’t be at Downton, of course.”

Of course.

“Do you miss her?”

Charlotte pursed her lips and nodded.

“Every day.”, she said, still smiling, but now her voice was thick.

“But she is happy and that is all that matters.”

Tommy watched her closely, the sad smile, just as loving, but with the pain of absence this time. That was real love, real adoration, and pride too, of what her sister had achieved.

Their courses were served and they began to eat.

“Might I ask what you wanted to discuss about the list?”, she wanted to know, changing the subject with ease.

“The list?”

She tilted her head and raised her eyebrow slightly.

“You asked me here to discuss the list for the packages.”, she reminded him.

Tommy nodded. “Yes and no.”

“I…I don’t know how to respond to that.”, she confessed, dropping her hands to her lap again.

“I wanted to talk to you because of the list but not about it."

She blinked in quick succession.

“I’m afraid, I can’t follow, Mr Shelby.”

He knew. And he was having a lot more fun with it than maybe he should. But he decided he would put her out of her misery. He wanted her to accept after all, needed her to, if he wanted his plan to work.

Proximity was always good when one wanted to win someone over. Casual interaction, a brush here, a touch there. It would all fall into place.

“I want to offer you a job.”

Her eyes went as round as the plates in front of them, and for a moment her mouth dropped open just ever so slightly.

“A job?”, she asked breathlessly.

Tommy nodded.

She leaned back in her chair and huffed softly, staring into the emptiness between his chair.

“A real job?”, she asked slowly.

“Yes.”

Even though he wasn’t leading her on anymore, she moved as cautiously as if she was on a thin layer of ice above a freezing lake.

“This isn’t some sort of prank or joke?”

“No.”

Charlotte huffed again, shaking her head slightly.

“But I can’t do anything.”, she argued. “I don’t know anything. I don’t have a certification, not even one from a school-”

She scoffed. “I haven’t even been to school apart from handing out prizes to the children.”

Tommy chuckled, unable to hide his amusement at her blatant shock.

“I don’t do things in the traditional way.”, he assured her. “Lots of people that worked for me haven’t gone to school.”

Although her case was a little different.

“Indeed?”, she asked, as breathless as if she had just run a mile.

“Indeed.”

She shook her head again.

“Mr. Shelby, I don’t…I can’t think of any job I would be useful in.”

Tommy leaned forward, closing the distance between them until he could smell her perfume. He liked the scent.

“Why don’t you listen first, and then you consider if you could be of any use, eh?”

She nodded.

“That does sound sensible, Mr. Shelby, although I..”

He waved her off quickly, and, leaning back, he began to explain.

“I looked you up.", He told her. "You, your family. They write a lot about you in the papers. You do a lot of charity work in Yorkshire. You have a charity for children, you help the poor, you are on the educational boards even if you haven’t gone to school.”

That brought an embarrassed smile to her lips.

“That is true.”, she admitted, her cheeks flushing.

“And you run a hospital.”

Tommy remembered the name

“The Downton Cottage Hospital.”

Pride filled her eyes and she sat up a little bit straighter. He had expected that.

These people always thought too highly of themselves.

“My grandfather opened it.”

“So I’ve read. Patrick Crawley, the sixth Earl of Grantham.”

She glanced down at her plate before smiling up at him.

“You really have done your research then.”, she said.

“I like to be informed. And since you didn’t come with any qualifications prepared, I had to prepare them myself.”

“You didn’t exactly tell me this would be an interview.”, she defended herself.

“True, but you would have shut me down before, if you had known.”

She looked like Finn when he had seen him pinching cigarettes, caught out and embarrassed, trying to save herself with a smile.

“I want something similar. I want projects, all sorts, really, that help a community - health, education, that sort.”

She was about to say something, but he lifted his hand and she stayed silent.

“I know work like that doesn’t happen overnight, but I like what I’ve read. And I believed you when you said you wanted to do something meaningful. Now, you have an insight to already running projects and you have the connections to reach out and ask if required - all these little details and information you don’t find in books.”

He let her consider that for a moment.

“But why me? There are dozens of girls just like me, from similar families, perhaps with more experience, which might be better suited.”

Because your godmother is the Duchess of Marlborough. Because your godfather is in the foreign office. Because your mother and Churchill’s mother are thick as thieves.

“Most posh girls like you do similar things.”, he admitted. “They go to the meetings, they are on the boards, they cut the ribbons and hand out the prizes, but I saw you help a man who was out of his mind, who could have easily hurt you or even killed you- no don’t shake your head, you know he could’ve - that situation was not pretty, that situation was not safe, but you did it anyway. That’s why I want you.”

Lady Charlotte Crawley had been watching him like a hawk, her dark eyes digging into him as if she wanted to find out the truth of his intentions behind his eyes.

Then she glanced at her hands again before meeting his gaze once more.

Just as she had been studying him, he had been studying her.

“What am I to do then?”, she wanted to know.

Tommy felt relief wash over him like a crashing wave on a windy day at the beach, but he didn’t let a muscle betray him.

“I want you as an advisor, to bring in your knowledge and connections, as we set it up. And I want you involved in the long term.”

She huffed in disbelief once more and stared into thin air.

“I am honoured, Mr. Shelby, truly.”

Tommy felt his fingers coil into a fist under the table.

“But I wouldn’t know where to start.”

He took a deep breath and really wished he could smoke in here, but it was not permitted.

“Why don’t you go and ask around back home, make some notes and bring them back to me, things that are necessary to build something like that up.”

It seemed like an eternity until she finally responded with an “I could do that, I suppose.”

He released a breath he had not known he was holding.

“Now about pay - ”

“Pay?”, she asked, just as startled as earlier when he had presented her with the offer. “You don’t have to pay me.”

“I can’t not pay you.”, Tommy insisted.

“But what would I do with the money?”, she asked.

Now it was Tommy’s turn to stare.

“Spend it, save it - whatever you do with money now.”

She blinked quickly as colour rose to her cheeks once more.

“What do you do with money now?”, he asked slowly, mentally preparing himself for anything.

“Well, I have my cash allowance for tipping and buying little things, but mostly they just get charged to the house.”

“You don’t have a bank account?”

“I don’t think I do.”, she said.

She doesn’t even know.

His first thought was that this was going to be a cheap venture, but he wasn’t just hiring her, he wanted to make her fall for him, make her feel important.

“Could we set one up?”, he asked.

Charlotte shook her head. “I doubt my father would allow that. He wouldn’t be too happy to know I’m being paid. It’s not very…”

She searched for an appropriate word, but he found it first, although it was one she would likely never use.

“Ladylike?”

A shy smile played on her lips. “He would not use that word. How about …appropriate, dignified, or proper?”

Tommy leaned back in his chair and considered the options. He could pay her in cash but what would she do with wads of cash lying around? Even if it would be a good way to wash the money clean. But she wouldn’t accept that. Then he had another idea.

“I will set up a fund for it. You will get power of attorney, which gives you the right to do anything, including make withdrawls.”

Besides, that was yet another chance to meet up with her in person.

“That sounds reasonable.”, she agreed.

“Good. Then I will pick you up tomorrow and we will set it up at the bank.”

She tried and failed to bite back another smile.

“That’s another first.”, she admitted, “I’ve never been to a bank before.”

“Lots of things you haven’t done, eh?”, he asked.

“Oh countless. It’s terribly unfair.”

I’ll keep that in mind.

Although most people might think different things unfair, including the privilege she had been born into. He included himself among those.

“Might I ask you something?”, she wanted to know almost shyly.

“Anything.”, he said, not that he had even the remotest intention of answering even close to any possible questions.

“Could you wait, with the bank and the power of an attorney and all that? At least let me work out a few ideas first. I can present them to you and then you can decide if I really might be any good. I would hate to disappoint you after the fact.”

Thomas Shelby felt something change inside him. Maybe it was the way she worded it, or how round and childlike her eyes looked. But something changed and he knew this expensive lunch had paid off.

She’s starting to fall for me.

“I’ll be in Downton on Saturday, so I can get started.”

“That’s fine.”, he said, his voice softer than he had anticipated.

Her smile was beaming.

“How very kind of you, Mr. Shelby!”

End

Part 7

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed and as always I'd love to hear your thoughts!

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