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alj4890 · 4 months ago

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Asked and Received

A Tobias Carrick/Open Heart one shot for Tobias Carrick Appreciation Week

Day 3: WWTD? Tobias buys an old lantern at an antique store. When he gets home and places it on his shelf, a genie appears and offers to grant him three wishes. How does he react? What does he ask for?

A/N going back to Book 2's canon and my HC for Tobias's family for this one. And of course, there's no doubt what or rather whom I HC for him will also be a part of this 😉

Masterlist

"Don't worry." Tobias readjusted his phone. "I'll be there."

His attempt to juggle multiple gift bags, his phone, and the Chinese takeout he'd bought all while trying to unlock his garage door did not end well.

His phone slipped out from between his ear and shoulder. He dropped the gift bags to try and catch it, thus causing all of them to dump out on the garage floor.

The only thing he managed to save was his dinner.

His younger brother's anxious voice could be heard buried beneath the bags.

"You okay?!" Phillip yelled out.

Carefully setting his takeout down, Tobias began to gather everything else up.

"Sorry about that." He told Phillip once he found his phone. "Dropped a few things."

"A few?" Phillip muttered in disbelief. "Sounded like your whole house crashed down around you."

"It wasn't my house." Tobias snorted. "Only the gifts I bought for Tabitha."

Phillip's daughter was turning five the following weekend. The Carrick's were gathering at the family home in Greenwich to celebrate as they did with everyone's birthday. Tobias even cleared his schedule for the week just so he could spend extra time with everyone.

He needed a break. After all the turmoil of Mass Kenmore losing its funding and the mad dash he'd recently done to save a young Edenbrook doctor, he knew he needed some time to decompress. The stress of the problems growing with possible shutdowns and layoffs had finally gotten to him.

Phillip chuckled. "You should see all that Jasmine has picked out for Tabitha. Between her and Mom, my girl is going to be the most spoiled five year old in the world."

Tobias grinned at the thought. His sister-in-law went through a lot to have her two children with Phillip. Jasmine had seen many fertility specialists and had multiple procedures for a slim chance at becoming pregnant. Tabitha was the first miracle for the couple. Spoiling the little girl became the norm in the family. It wasn't difficult to do given how sweet she was.

He was beyond the proud uncle of all his nieces and nephews. He made certain that their gifts revealed just how crazy he was about them and that he actually listened to all they told him. Tobias enjoyed spending time around Christmas and their birthdays to search for special presents that lined up with their interests.

This year, his niece was currently obsessed with the Disney movie, Aladdin. Phillip joked that it was because her mother's name was Jasmine which was why the little girl wanted to be that particular princess.

Tobias didn't care what the reason was. He only knew he had to find something special for her big day.

He spent the day at various toy stores around Boston, buying new dolls, puzzles, and games. Walking past an antique store, the idea to try and find her a real oil lamp struck. He went inside and as luck would have it, he found exactly what he'd hoped to find.

After dropping all his packages on the kitchen table, he took the lamp out of the box and set it on one of his couch cushions. He squatted down to see just how it would look to Tabitha.

The old brass lamp turned out better than he'd hoped. The engravings along the sides added more to the imagined mysticism one could pretend the lamp contained. He could easily see it sitting in some forgotten cave filled with treasures from long, long ago.

"Not bad." He said, running his thumb along the intricate engravings.

"Thank you." A voice said from within.

Tobias fell back with a gasp as silvery black smoke pooled out. It swirled around the room as sounds of thunder boomed and flashes of lightning penetrated the smothering darkness. Once it cleared, a man in a three piece suit was sitting next to the lamp.

"What in the actual hell was that?" Tobias breathed. "Who are you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The strange man replied. "I'm the Genie of the Lamp."

"Right." Tobias got to his feet. "And I'm the man who is about to force you out of his home."

The stranger clucked his tongue. "I wouldn't try that if I were you, Tobias."

Tobias cursed as he reached down to yank the intruder off his couch.

He went right through the man and hit the couch cushion.

"I told you that you shouldn't try to remove me." The genie chuckled over Tobias's fruitless attempts.

"This is a prank." Tobias said, looking around for one of his friends. "This is nothing but an image projected into my living room."

"No, I'm, as they say, the real deal." The genie got to his feet. "I can see though that you're a doubting man."

"You got that right." Tobias muttered while looking for what was causing this hallucination.

"I thought dressing like this would be less startling to a man like you."

With a snap of his fingers, the genie now looked like one from storybooks, complete with turban, a long pointy beard, and lack of a lower body. The shimmery black smoke swirled where his legs had once been.

Tobias rubbed his hands over his face in an attempt to get his vision clear of whatever the hell was going on in his living room.

When he lowered his hands, he saw the genie still waiting with his arms crossed.

"Is this better or can I look more like a man of today?" Genie gestured towards his body.

"Do whatever you want." Tobias gave up and sat down. "It isn't like I really have a say in the matter."

"I wouldn't say that." The genie snapped his fingers and was once again a man in a suit.

Straightening his tie, he smiled at Tobias.

"Now then, you are the lucky individual of three wishes."

"Yippee." Tobias grumbled. "So I can wish for you to get out?"

"My my, aren't we an unwelcoming host?" Genie responded.

"Forgive me for not wanting a weird has to be some drug induced hallucination I somehow was cursed with in my house." Tobias bit out.

"Do you do drugs?" Genie asked.

"No." Tobias said. "But I could have been slipped something in my coffee from earlier."

"True." The genie conceded. "But you weren't."

Tobias continued to glare at him.

"Make your wishes and I will leave, never to return again." The genie promised.

"Then I'll take this lamp back for another." Tobias added. "There's no way I'll let you near my niece."

The genie let out a boisterous laugh.

"Ah, Tobias. I won't appear before Tabitha. She doesn't need me."

"What?" Tobias muttered in disbelief.

"She's a happy child who has all her needs met." Genie explained. "I only appear to those who have a great need for my assistance in their lives."

He smirked while watching the doctor get irritated over hearing that he needed help with anything.

"And," the genie pointed out, "this lamp isn't my only home."

Tobias leaned forward. "Like I said before, what?!"

"All oil lamps belong to me." He continued. "How do you think I appear before people from all over the world?"

"I wouldn't even begin to guess what a character from a story does." Tobias told him.

"Where do you think all the stories came from?" Genie smiled at him with a hint of mischief. "You don't think someone like me could possibly be a work of fiction, do you?"

Tobias lowered his head in his hands. He knew he had two options. One, he could continue arguing with this thing or he could take advantage of what could be his good fortune and make some wishes.

Lifting his head he gave in to the latter. It would probably save his sanity in the long run to just let this scenario play out.

"About these wishes," he hesitated, "this isn't some Monkey Paw type wish is it?"

"Meaning something horrific must happen to get your wish?" The genie clarified.

Tobias nodded. "Is it?"

"Not at all. My wishes are free and clear of any ill intent." He leveled his dark eyes upon the doctor. "Unless your wish is one that is to harm another."

"Not my style." Tobias told him. "My wishes have nothing to do with hurting anyone."

"Excellent!" The genie rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Now then, let's discuss some possible wishes."

"Discuss?" Tobias smirked. "Am I not capable of making my own?"

"They will still be yours," Genie replied, "but I have never taken advantage of one's ignorance when it comes to making wishes."

"For instance?" Tobias prodded.

"For instance, if you told me your first wish was to be in the perfect profession then I would point out you are currently in the perfect one for someone like you." He explained. "No need to waste a wish on something you already have."

"I see." Tobias's brow furrowed in thought. "Hmm."

"Might I make a suggestion?" Genie prompted.

"Sure."

"You are currently worried about funding for your hospital. Correct?"

"Correct." Tobias answered.

"Then I can fix that!" Genie motioned towards him. "Simply say the words and--"

"Can you fix two hospitals?" Tobias interrupted.

"Two?"

"Mass Kenmore and Edenbrook are both going to be shut down if someone doesn't intervene." Tobias explained. "And the people of Boston would suffer because of it."

"I see." Genie shrugged. "That can all be easily taken care of."

"Then for my first wish, I wish that you would make Mass Kenmore and Edenbrook have the funding needed to remain open and functioning at their best."

Genie nodded in approval before snapping his fingers. Within seconds, Tobias phone rang.

His eyes widened to see Mass Kenmore's Chief of Medicine calling him.

"Hello?" He listened to the excited doctor explain that the Board had made a deal with Solomon Health.

"We're saved!" She exclaimed. "We won't be dependent on state funding again."

Tobias ended the call. He couldn't quite believe that his wish had come true.

"Who ended up helping Edenbrook?" He asked.

The genie snapped his fingers again and an image of a man Tobias knew appeared in a puff of smoke.

"That's Leland Bloom." He turned back to the genie. "What does a tech billionaire have to do with anything?"

"He'll end up buying the hospital and keep all the staff." The genie explained. "In fact, he's now talking to Edenbrook's Chief of Medicine and their Board right now."

"Wow." Tobias sat back in awe.

"I know." Genie winked at him. "I am that amazing."

Tobias began to laugh. Only he would be the one to find a genie with an ego similar to his own.

"Now then, what shall be your second wish?" The genie prompted.

"I'm not sure." Tobias told him. "Honestly, all I've thought about lately is Tabitha's birthday and the whole funding fiasco."

"Hmm." The genie began to stroke his beard while thinking of something Tobias might need or want.

"Could I wish for my family to remain healthy and happy?" Tobias asked.

"You could." The genie responded. "But I don't see a reason to do so. They all have what they need for that to happen."

"I still wish it. Just to be on the safe side."

"Very well." The genie snapped his fingers. "Done."

He then leaned forward, a mischievous glint back in his eyes. "Now let's make this final wish more interesting."

"Interesting?" Tobias cocked an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"Meaning something specifically for yourself." The genie explained. "You've already done your good deeds to those you care about and the city you reside in. Let's get something that will be only yours."

Tobias chuckled. "I can't think of anything I need."

The genie humphed. "I bet your mother would say differently."

"You don't mean--"

"Oh I do." The genie grinned with glee. "One of my favorite things to grant someone is the perfect mate."

"Hold on!" Tobias held his hands up. "I don't think I'm the marrying kind."

"You're wrong." Genie's smile grew larger. "You think that now, but there is someone out there made for you."

"Uh-huh." Tobias doubted that. "If you don't mind, I think I'll wish for something else."

"Such as?" The genie was quite curious what could be better than his own suggestion.

"How about a new challenge?" Tobias offered. "Something to push me on to succeeding."

The genie stroked his beard once more in thought. "A challenge, eh?"

He looked up at Tobias. "Say the words."

"I wish for a new challenge in my life, one that requires all my expertise to succeed."

An amused expression flooded the genie's face as he snapped his fingers to make it happen.

"So?" Tobias asked. "What's my challenge?"

"To win the heart of this woman." The genie waved his hand through the smoke until another familiar face appeared.

"Is that who I think it is?" Tobias gasped.

"It is." The genie responded, completely delighted to turn the wish into what he knew the man before him needed.

Tobias glared at him. "I thought I told you I wasn't the marrying kind."

"You will be once Chris gets a hold of you." The genie teased.

As he began dissolving into the silvery smoke he'd first appeared in, the genie spoke once more.

"Don't fight it, Tobias. Enjoy your life with those you love."

His dark eyes sparkled before disappearing.

"And that includes, Dr. Valentine." His voice echoed.

Tobias sat there staring at the empty spot on his sofa where the genie had been sitting. Still in disbelief over all that happened within the last few minutes, he reached over and picked up the lamp.

Giving it a slight shake, he chuckled to himself.

"Nice try, but there's no way Chris Valentine is meant for me."

He set the lamp down to begin wrapping Tabitha's presents.

A mystical voice spoke from the lamp causing him to stop mid step.

"Wanna bet?"

#tcaw #tobias carrick appreciation week #tobias carrick #tobias x chris #choices oh #choices open heart #choices the stories you play #open heart fanfic #choices fic writers creations

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dougholtphotographyus · 3 months ago

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qnewsau · 24 days ago

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Equality Bill passes both Houses of NSW Parliament

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/equality-bill-passes-both-houses-of-nsw-parliament/

Equality Bill passes both Houses of NSW Parliament

Community groups have welcome the passage of Alex Greenwich’s Equality Bill which they say will change the lives of LGBTQIA+ people living in the state of NSW.

Equality Australia says new laws passed by the NSW Parliament this week will finally bring the state into line with the rest of the country.

The Equality Bill, formally known as the NSW Equality Legislation Amendment (LGBTIQA+) Bill 2023 was passed 15 votes to 12 in the Legislative Council, more than 12 months after it was first introduced to parliament.

It had already passed the Legislative Assembly earlier in the week.

“This is the largest package of LGBTIQ+ reforms in NSW history,” Equality Australia CEO Anna Brown said, following the vote by MLCs.

“These new laws will have no impact on the lives of most people in our state, but for a small number of people it will make their lives immeasurably better.

“For the people who have told their stories, the leaders who have listened and the politicians who have had the courage of their convictions, this is a watershed moment in our state’s history and a proud moment in their fight for equality.

“It’s a journey that continues as we turn our attention to the state’s anti-discrimination laws and our ongoing efforts to protect vulnerable teachers and students in religious and private schools across the state.”

Under the reforms trans and gender diverse people will no longer be required to have surgery before accessing ID that accurately reflects their gender, and non-binary will be an available sex descriptor.

NSW was the only jurisdiction in Australia to still have surgery as a requirement for transgender people in updating their official documents to reflect their gender.

“Legal gender recognition through a simple administrative process is life changing. The NSW Parliament has finally stood up for trans people simply by believing us,” said trans advocate Teddy Cook.

“Trans people of all genders have achieved one of the biggest reforms to improve our lives in decades.

“Updating a birth certificate to accurately reflect the women, men and non-binary people we are, without requiring sterilising surgery, will have a profoundly positive impact on trans lives, improving our health and safety, strengthening our participation and allowing us to simply get on with our lives.”

The bill also provides a pathway for children born out of overseas commercial surrogacy arrangements to have their parents recognised.

“This is a profound relief for the hundreds of loving and caring families who have been locked in a legal limbo,” said Ashley Scott, Executive Officer of Rainbow Families, in celebrating the win.

“Our children will now be equal before the law and have the same recognition, protection and access to rights as every other young person in NSW.”

ACON CEO Michael Woodhouse said the new laws promoted fairness and inclusion in NSW.

“We commend members of NSW Parliament who approved this bill and the many community advocates who have worked tirelessly over the years for equality,” Woodhouse said.

“There is more to be done, and we will continue our work to ensure sexuality and gender diverse people live with dignity and respect, free from stigma and discrimination.”

This includes continuing advocating for reforms to protect LGBTQIA+ students and staff in religious schools, which was left out of an amended version of the bill to secure the support of NSW Labor.

“These schools rely on millions of dollars of taxpayer funding every year and they should uphold the same non-discriminatory practices that state schools have abided by for decades,” Equality Australia’s Anna Brown said.

“People are genuinely shocked to discover a religious school can legally fire a woman for falling pregnant outside of marriage or expel a student because they are gay or trans.”

The NSW Law Reform Commission is currently considering this issue as part of a broad review of the state’s Anti-Discrimination Act which is expected to be finalised next year. 

Some other issues, including offences relating to street based sex work, were also removed from the bill.

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

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hibewriter · 5 months ago

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It's a vicious cycle, baby

Masterlist Read it on AO3

Shadow & Bone | Darklina | 4.8K | E

Tags: Step Siblings | fauxcest | P in V Sex

“So it was just a phone call?”

Alina sniffed, laying on the last piece of furniture in the lower Manhattan apartment. All the boxes had already been packed, the last strip of packaging tape laid merely an hour before she’d gotten the call. She stared at the ceiling, the small patches and primer covering up the holes she’d drilled to hang her string lights turning the room more foreign than before. Her head rang in the echo of the disinterested voice on the other line.

“Is this Alina Starkov? This is Tante calling on behalf of Black Heretic Property Holdings.”

The end of it all. Her four-year relationship was put on ice by her decision to move across the country in pursuit of law school. Her apartment was neatly packed with numbers blocked and a moving truck idling in the alley next to her. Genya sat next to her, holding her hand as if that was going to solve her newest dilemma.

“Unfortunately, we’ve sold 65 Mullner’s Lane apartment complex, and will no longer be able to lease Apartment C to you as the building is scheduled to be demolished.”

“Well, maybe you could stay?” Genya sounded far away, her voice traveling through water to reach Alina’s ears. “ In Manhattan I mean. Like David and I could make room.”

Stay. In Manhattan.

And do what? Withdraw from UCLA? Take a gap year after she’d already taken two years to be able to afford it on her own? She thought of David and Genya, already cramped in the junior “two”-bed in Greenwich. Thought of them trying once they got married next year. She sighed, flopping her head back on a corduroy pillow. She didn’t want to be practice parenthood.

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t. She had a truck full of all her belongings and a two-thousand-mile journey to start. “ I’m sure there’s an extended stay I could use. Maybe someone is leasing for immediate move-ins. ”

Genya frowns, her charm bracelet jingling as she pushed a hair from Alina’s face. “ I think…” She hedged, continuing the pets of her hair. “ Maybe it’s time you call your dad.”

“My dad ,” Alina repeats. Her voice shrinks in on itself, fingers already beginning to tangle together as she thinks of her father. Antonin Starkov. A man of many talents, mostly in marrying and divorcing the elite of the upper east side. Stealing their wealth for his own side business ventures as those around him grow ever more neglected and distant and cold .

All the radiators in New York could not make his condo feel like a home.

But who else could take care of her besides her father?

Antonin makes her stay with him for two months. Lets her sulk in her room alone for a full two weeks before barging in with a woman she’d never seen, a new spa set in hand, demanding she bathes and acts like a Starkov . She would’ve been offended if the cocoon of blankets purchased from West Elm hadn’t begun to smell thick and chips hadn’t fallen out when she stood. Forgotten and stale.

But she was a Starkov.

She couldn’t just sit and wallow on her bed while the world moved on. She had to get it together. Get a move on and be a person . Setbacks happened all the time. Boys break up with you, don’t think you’re worth moving over. Apartments get sold. And Starkovs still persist in shining. She’d just have to make a plan. She’d just have to grow up.

The woman, an aide named Inej, helps more than she’d be willing to admit. A strict checklist of items to do once they’d gotten it together.

Shower. Check .

Clean her space. Check .

Find a new place. Fuck .

She sits on freshly laundered sheets, staring at the blank browser of her laptop. Thinks of potential areas she’d stay, places that could offer her the modicum of reassurance that stepping outside her door wouldn’t get her killed. Not dead but close to the university. She’d seen a YouTube Lawyer speaking about staying close to campus to get the most out of law school. And it seemed smart, wasting less time on travel. But each listing seemed…wrong.

And that’s when she met Baghra.

(In all her years as his daughter – a full twenty-five, each year more difficult than the last – Antonin Starkov had exactly seven wives. The first three had been kind, if not too forgiving of Alina’s outbursts of want for her real mother. A figure that was long gone and buried. The fourth and fifth, both appearing and disappearing in the course of her high school years, had barely registered in her memory. Women who maybe made an appearance at the same time as Alina once a month, otherwise jet-setting across the globe with inheritance from their old money parents or running businesses from luxury skyrises with views of the entire planet out their windows. The sixth had lasted the longest. Entering her father’s life during her sophomore year of college, only to leave him and his money behind for a man who lived in the apartment below them by the middle of her senior year.

And now there was Baghra. Lucky number seven, as her father introduced her. Not exactly something Alina would’ve smiled at. But the woman neither smiled nor frowned. Instead, she took the opportunity to ignore Antonin’s jab, clasping Alina’s hand in hers.)

“You must be Alina,” her voice betrayed her false joy as she clasped Alina’s hands in hers. “ Antonin has spoken so much about you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to lie ,” Alina responded. “ I know he hasn’t.”

Baghra seemed to frown without frowning. Eyes crinkled with a soft downward tilt, lips tight as if in deep thought.

“Oh, you’d get along swimmingly with my daughter Ulla.”

“Does she live in California?”

She didn’t. But her son did.

Aleksander Morozov, a last name from a husband four times removed, lived in a small three-bedroom home off the edge of UCLA’s campus. A mere twenty-minute walk to the door of the UCLA School of Law. He had one car, a work-from-home job at one of the Silicon Valley tech start-ups, and a roommate who’d moved out to go live with his new husband.

The pictures Baghra sent her (a reluctant exchange of phone numbers – an act Alina hadn’t done with her father’s wives since number four had a case of doctoring messages), depicted nothing extreme. Curly trees and native plants, stucco walls, and terracotta shingles plucked straight from her late-night Pinterest boards. It’s nice, almost too nice, and fear of rent and expenses on top of school rise in her head and she wants to scream at the idea of asking her father (or worse, Baghra ) for assistance.

Aleksander’s number is sent to her in a rush, Baghra offering more false joy at the idea of their families blending . A new brother and roommate within a week.

Aleksander is thirty-four; nothing strange outside of the idea he lives so close to a college campus. He started renting the house during undergrad with his friend Ivan. Never left because he didn’t have to. He assures her via text that it would be no problem to take her in, that Baghra is always looking for her next project, and that Alina needn’t worry about the majority of the furniture she had sitting in storage. He’s been in tech since graduation, doesn’t tell her how much he makes a year, and pointedly lets her know the third bedroom is for his office. Rent is allegedly only nine-hundred dollars a month, and he already has the space cleaned out should she want it.

She’s on a flight to LA the next week.

He’s thirty-four, holds a job at home, and refuses to let her drive from LAX by herself. He arrives in a black coupe car, holds a sign written in neat block letters with her name on it, and packs her suitcase into his trunk before she can even offer to do so.

When they arrive at the house it’s exactly like the pictures. Curly trees and bushes thrive under the California sun as he shows her inside. Her room is directly next to the office and is the only room seemingly untouched by an interior designer. She is allowed to place any decorations in her room, as long as she doesn’t leave permanent marks, but Ivan had drilled wooden beams into the walls for a rustic feel and now you couldn’t tell. She wants to scream, finally across the country just days away from starting.

__________________________

The first week is nothing but restless nerves. Constant tossing and turning in a new bed with sheets laundered in an off-brand detergent that was cheaper than her normal scented one. Her decorations felt lackluster and droll, hitting the trash bin on the curb of Aleksander’s – their – street within two days. Her nights were filled with purchasing textbooks written by professors who would teach her, finding new decorations, and listening to the soft pacing of her new roommate – brother – as he worked on whatever kept him up at night.

Though she had to count herself lucky. When she had first arrived, Aleksander towered so tall she had to tap his shoulder just so he would see her amongst the crowd. When he said her name, she felt the honey-burnt rumble of his voice from her head to her toes, and an instant dread of a steady stream of girls who fell for charcoal eyes and a full beard filled her mind.

But, if anything, he was the one who insisted they give ample heads-up on all guests.

The only singular instance of unexpected guests (never a hookup or lackluster date) was an errant girl with dark hair who arrived in the thick of the night. Her incessant knocking was what woke Alina, asleep after attempting to watch reruns of The Good Wife and draped in a stolen blanket from Aleksander’s closet. She remembered feigning sleep, keeping her eyes closed tight as she attempted to ignore it. Only for the man of the hour to cross angrily to the door, yanking it open and speaking in hushed tones with venom-laced words.

“Who the fuck is that girl, Sasha?”

“Calm down Zo, she’s my sister.”

“Sister?! I’ve met Ulla, you prick, she looks nothing like her. “

“Saints, you act as if my mom’s never gotten remarried before.”

“Then why the fuck haven’t you called me back?”

The door slammed behind him as he exited to speak to her. Alina just barely fell back asleep when he walked back in, barely stirring at the small hand that brushed her hair behind her ear and the dip of the couch near her head.

“Mmphf Aleksss.” A vague mumble of words against his thigh, scooting closer to body heat.

“Shhh, go back to sleep, Alina.”

__________________________

When the semester starts, it’s almost as if they’re nothing to each other.

He’s already awake and working by the time she rises, the office door firmly closed with the muffled voices of whatever call he was on permeating through the wood. She showers, leaves with an apple and whatever leftover coffee he’d made sloshing in her Yeti tumbler from a convention long passed. Long classes drift by, only to be followed by hours studying her outline, attempting to be well prepared by the time midterms come around. All for her to arrive back home, worn and ragged, and stealing leftovers from the fridge while he continues to watch whatever history documentary he seemed fixated on that week.

Not to say every day was a perfect cohabitation of silence and drifting around each other. She’d yelled at him when he’d drank out of her favorite mug, leaving it soaking in the sink for a day and a half before she got so frustrated she washed it her damn self. She wanted nothing more than to smack him when he left a shirt (black, dry-fit like nearly everything he wore) in the middle of the living room after coming back from a run. Even with his “I was coming back for it later,” she still threw it at his head, pulling the carpet freshener and vacuum from their hidey-hole to clean the freshly soiled common area.

Not that she was flawless. She heard the muttered complaints from Aleksander on Saturday mornings when she played re-uploaded cuts of MTV music programs on YouTube while cleaning the kitchen. (It really was an excellent distraction from studying, when archaic words about property law blurred together and she needed to mentally remove her brain from the situation.) He’d also yelled, exactly once, when she’d forgotten to clean the long clumps of hair out of the drain. But stopped the second he raised his hand, clocking how her eyes widened and she made a tiny step back into her room. He sighed – defeat or simply resigning himself to a new normal, she’ll never know. Begging her to not do it again in a soft voice before escaping the confines of the house until well after she’d fallen asleep.

The couch became the neutral ground. Friday nights, after a week of pitter-pattering around each other and small arguments, she’s coaxed out with delivered Italian, the popping of a bottle of wine echoing through the entire house. He’ll hand her a plate, settling into the couch as he finds a movie.

It’s quiet mumbling, crawling to sit next to him on the couch. (Only to steal his blanket and leech some of the warmth from him – California was warm but its breezes left her thin skin frozen, her brother’s warmth the only comfort.) They’re quiet, but it’s not uncomfortable. As if they’d spent all their lives merely existing next to each other. The Princess Bride was a more permanent fixture in the home than most of the furniture.

__________________________

Their relationship didn’t shift until it did.

One day he was locked in his office, hidden away from her with the door locked. The next, she had her own chair in the room, her textbooks on his bookcase, and a nice lamp for her late-night study sessions. She found herself sitting next to him, listening to the soft clack of his fingers against his keyboard, the deep muttering of his voice on various calls. It was a soothing balm for her days, his body nearby as they attempted not to disrupt the other’s work. And when the day was over they could go their separate ways.

(If she stole a blanket from his bed and wrapped herself in his scent… well that was her business and hers alone.)

Midterms and finals pass in a flurry of coffee and dramatic tv reruns. A short flight home for the holidays, hotel fair split because neither particularly wanted to stay with their parents. Apparently still sickeningly in love (if that’s what you could call Baghra’s and Antonin’s relationship). Bundled sweaters and an extra thick weighted blanket Aleksander brought especially for her. “ Maybe you’ll stop putting those icicles you call feet on my lap, Alina.” (It does not stop her, though the sting is dulled by fluffy socks and a blanket that smothers all her bad thoughts into a peaceful slumber.)

The spring arrives before she can think, another set of midterms, another set of highlighters. Sleepless and hunger-filled nights were lessened only by her brother-roommate’s lights-out policy and Postmates' premium account.

But then, just as she thought she could relax, the trip came. It was a Friday he told her. She was wrapped in the blanket he’d brought her, a bowl of kettle corn on her lap (“ Because it’s healthy Sasha!” ), and the remote already queued to their movie of the night. He’d walked in, still typing away at his phone even though they’d agreed on no more work this weekend. So she huffed, rolling her eyes as he paced behind the couch rather than sitting on it. She reached, tugging on his shirt as he passed, hoping to get his attention so they can start the night like always.

“ Give me a second, baby I’ll be right there.”

Baby. It was an echo in her head, constantly coming up when she least expected it. He’d started calling her such after New Year’s Day, waking up on David and Genya’s couch in their party clothes, his arms a better blanket than any gift he could ever give. Even when she asked about it, nervous hedging on the plane back home, he merely shrugged. “You kept saying you were baby, so I guess that’s what you are.”

Still, his affection could not quel her need for her night to start. Comfort movies, blanket swaddling, and cuddles on the couch after trying to understand archaic nonsense of property law and endless contracts and double entendres. So she whined, petulant and youthful as she stretched toward him. And he stilled, hand coming to stroke her cheek with something like reverence.

“My, uh, my boss wants us all in the office for a yearly recap,” he muttered, eyebrows scrunching, concerned. “So I gotta head out next Wednesday for a couple of days.”

She’d call it strange how quickly her frown took shape on her face, the instant feeling of disappointment flowing through her. It wasn’t like she held him under lock and key, forced to share their tiny oasis all day every day. But it felt akin to the first time her father suggested sleeping without her teddy bear – devastating and somehow cruel.

She didn't mope the rest of the night, cuddled deep into her blanket far away from his embrace on the other side of the couch. She didn't. Even when he sighed, told her to "stop being a brat, baby. I'll be back before you know it."

__________________________

She's sure he thought it was true. But that Wednesday night felt too quiet, the echoes of her footsteps too loud against the hardwood floor. She tossed and turned all night, somehow cold in the California spring.

Thursday was impossible to concentrate, her lecture breezing through one ear and out the other. The words in her notebooks were a blur. It wasn't until seven, nearly dark, that she realized she'd forgotten breakfast and lunch. That's when she itched to call him demanding he come home early instead of Monday afternoon.

She settled for a text, a simple How was your day ? She didn't expect him to respond so soon, barely switching to her own Postmates app before the notification of his response appeared. Good. Did you eat today, baby? And it should have been embarrassing. I'm ordering Thai right now. My normal breakfast and lunch may have been missed.

Missing me already?

She sighed, thumbs down emoji sent quickly. They both knew it wasn't true.

Friday came with the ringing of a doorbell. Philz coffee and fruit in a brown paper bag left delicately on her porch side table. She would never admit, even under threat of torture, how much better her morning went. It was much easier, even grabbing lunch from the pizza place down the street with a girl from her class. But still, returning to the empty home felt hollow. She could only wrestle with herself for an hour, the time it took her to shower and prepare a chicken stir fry before she made the decision.

His door was closed, but not locked. His room was orderly in the way he tended to be. Bed made, clothes put away, vacuumed the Sunday before he left. Still, she drew her weighted blanket into the room, with her laptop queued to The Princess Bride, and found comfort in the warmth of his comforter. Falling asleep as she preferred to – Aleksander’s scent washing over her while soft voices echoed in the background.

Saturday she found a shirt, black as the rest of his wardrobe, hanging from his closet door. This time there was no hesitation to slip into his space, the shirt draped over her form as soon as she stepped out of the shower. It was almost like he was physically there as she cleaned the house, tidying the space exactly as she preferred. And at night she settled in, a comedy special playing on Netflix as she dozed off in his bed. She’d put everything back tomorrow, cleaning to the room’s original status without Aleksander ever knowing just how much she missed him.

She didn’t particularly get the chance. Not stirring during the sunrise, the opening and closing of the front door lost on her consciousness. No, she simply bundled deeper into the pillows and sheets, familiar footfalls falling on deaf ears. A soft sigh escaped her as arms wrap around her waist, a strong warmth clinging to her back.

“I guess you did miss me, baby,” murmured into her ear. She nods, a dream-like haze as he pulls her close.

“You came home early,” she mumbles. Clings to him like wet on lycra, inhaling as he crowds her close.

“Clearly I was needed,” his hands found her thighs, bare and silky under his shirt, tracing circles into her skin. “I needed to come home.”

He was right. She had no need to fight him. Lets him drag her leg over his hips. Relishes the feel of his beard against her shoulder as he buries his face in her neck. Cuddled like he needed to, pressed to each other. It’s his lips on her neck that cause her to gasp, a soft touch that lingers with each pass.

“Sa - Sasha – ”

“Baby, you have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of seeing you like this,” he murmured, soft and urgent. The begging left unsaid. But she did know. She knew for months, maybe since the day she moved in, that she’d want him. Always around. Always close. And there was no need to resist. Antonin and Baghra the furthest thing from her mind as she pushed against his head, only to drag his lips down to hers.

If she were patient she would’ve taken the time to look at him. Absorb that he was real and that she was real and she wasn’t dreaming that her step-brother’s tongue was partially down her throat. Even if she was dreaming she didn’t want to let go of the feeling. His hands spanned her ribs, fingers nearly touching as he began to press her into the bed.

He doesn’t waste much time. His hands roam, lifting his shirt on her body until he could feel all of it. Underwear gone since she crawled into bed the night before. His fingers found her slit, wet – nearly soaked – causing him to break their kiss, a groan on his lips. And she finally got to see him, the first time since he’d left Wednesday morning. His hair flopping softly, tussled from an early flight and her fingers carding through it. But his eyes, always dark and broody, were alight with desire. A flame shown within him as he looked down at her.

“ My wet, messy girl,” he whispered, something akin to awe in his voice as he leaned down. A kiss pressed to her collarbone, lips finding the skin not covered by the rucked-up shirt. She could do little else but whimper as he seemed to proceed on a one-man mission to map every inch of her skin with his lips. Each kiss was lower than the last, until he paused, directly over her mound before glancing back up at her, those eyes shining back at her. “ Tell me to stop, baby.”

She refused.

His mouth was like a spark, lips encompassing her as his tongue lapped at her, collecting wetness from her like honey from a jar. His tongue was heady, sliding through her folds and over her clit. She could feel his smirk as he was able to draw out a moan, her hands clinging to his hair. There was no use trying to look at something else, not when each lick brought a spark to flame inside her. She refused to hold her sounds, refused to think of the embarrassing oh, oh, ohs that flew from her mouth as he switched to sucking on her clit.

“Please, p-please,” she gasped, managing a spark of lucidity as he refused to relent his assault on her pleasure. Just as she thought she couldn’t hold anymore, he abruptly stuck two fingers inside. She was wet, wetter than she’d been in years , but still. The stretch was a smart burn that only faded as she got accustomed to the feel. Until his fingers pressed against something throwing her off a metaphorical cliff into an orgasm. He still only withdrew partially, keeping his fingers slowly moving inside her as he kissed his way back up her body.

Her own hands found purpose. Pushing and tugging at offending garments. His shirt, the sweats, all in the way of what she truly wanted . Hadn’t she waited enough? Hadn’t she been good and patient and waited for him to come back? But he took her wrists in one hand, not hard enough to bruise but enough for her to whine as he pushed her arms above her head. He forced her to just feel his thumb, pressed deliciously against her clit, as his fingers sought that spot inside her again.

“Be good for me, Lina,” his breath was hot against her lips. “Be good, and I’ll give you what you want.” It shouldn’t have been that easy. A whisper for her to be good against the pressure of his hands against and in her. But her body clenched down, limbs seizing as the precipice of orgasm crashed through her in a rush. Her breath barely came in pants before his lips were on hers again, finally – finally – dragging the rest of his clothing off with as much efficiency as he could without leaving her side.

She will never admit, not to God or Satan or any of the Saints, that the first feel of his cock, dragging slowly over her clit as his lips moved against hers, was the best experience of her life. There was nothing shameful, nothing that could make her repent, for the sounds that escaped her lips. Swallowed by his tongue as he rocked his hips against her.

She wants to scream. She wanted to cry. So close to him, to what they both were wanting, and he was teasing . She squirmed, wiggling, pushing her hips against him. As if she could make him catch her against her cunt and slip in. But he chuckled, laughing at her desperation as he gripped her hips.

“Let me, baby,” he whispered, lining himself against her. “Wanna savor it.”

Then, the head of his cock notches inside her.

It stings. She’s wet, no virgin, and definitely not a prude, but he was more than two of his fingers could ever adequately prepare her for. It sends only a brief shock of hesitation in her, numbed as he slowly presses forward, withdrawing an inch only to feed it back into her. His hands return to her wrist, pushing her into the bed as he forces her to just take take take.

Each rock of his hips pushes him further inside, and each time she thinks she can’t take any more. He couldn’t possibly have more to give. But each thrust is another bit, another space carved out just for him until she feels so full she’s unsure she could breathe. His hips pressed deliciously against hers, a whine falling from her mouth as he withdraws and slams back in.

“Fuck,” he breathes, hips gaining speed as she loosens to the feel of him. “Fucking dream, been hard for months —”

She cries out, nails digging into her palms as she can only hold on with her thighs. The tension, the slight bite as his hand pressed into her wrists. She knows, before she can even find the ways to vocalize it, that she’s going to come. His free hand snakes behind them, pressing on her lower back to force her to arch into him.

“So fucking good,” he huffed, chest against hers, their bodies moving together. She doesn’t even think to close her eyes. Stares into the dark pools next to her, as she feels it coming. Tears prick her eyes, each downward stroke a new push towards that precipice. A stroke, a push, his lips on hers, and she falls apart.

He doesn’t stop, groaning at the feel of her around him. He releases her wrists, grasping at her hips to pull her against him. She has a feeling she’ll bruise, but she can’t bring herself to care. Not when his thrust grows sloppy, not when his lips find contact with any skin they can find. Her shoulder, her cheek, her neck. Both moaned loudly when his hips stilled against hers, his cock a plug to keep the warmth of his spend inside her.

They lay there, his body better than a million weighted blankets, arms wrapped around each other while they caught their breaths. For a moment she wonders if they’ll talk about it. If they’ll discuss the fact that they just fucked their step-sibling before either of them even bothered to get up for the day.

But they didn’t. He simply tugged her close, nuzzling into her skin as he softened.

“I missed you, too.”

#darklina

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thessalian · 6 months ago

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Thess vs Greenwich Market

So. Laundry's in the dryer cycle, the last batch of cookies is cooling (I just decided to bake, like, all of them), I used the kitchen time to boil some more potatoes for potato salad and those are also cooling, so now I'm going to take a minute to explain my Adventure from yesterday. And coincidentally also explain why my feet hurt so very much.

See, there's this place in Greenwich Market called The Fudge Patch. An old friend of mine who I mostly see on Facebook these days recommended it - apparently he goes fairly regularly and last month they had a deal on delivery fees, so I tried some and I loved it. Then I discovered that some of the flavours they have in store were not available on the website - specifically, coffee fudge. Which ... well, you guys know me well enough to know I just simply had to have. So I decided to look up how one might get to Greenwich from my little chunk of London. Turns out it's not that far - only takes a couple of buses. So I decided that if I was having a not-too-bad day Saturday and if the weather was decent, I would go and get this coffee fudge.

Yesterday, as far as I could tell when I woke up, was sunny and bright and I wasn't feeling too bad. So I thought, "Great! I will go to Greenwich Market". Even checked to see if there were any pharmacies in the vicinity so I could pick up the mallet meds I needed. There were, in fact, two. (This will come into play later.) So off I went on the bus.

Decided to do the pharmacies first, and discovered that neither of these two chain pharmacies had a pharmacy counter at those outlets. I mean, I guess it might have something to do with the fact that the place is very much for tourists - the National Maritime Museum and the Cutty Sark are both there. So I sighed a little, and decided to take a quick trip to local bookstore. Bought a Neil Gaiman short story anthology and a copy of Max Brooks' World War Z (far superior to the movie, as far as I've ever been able to tell), and then went to the market.

Greenwich Market is ... squished. Cramped. Lots of lovely things in a very small space. Which was not precisely easy for me to navigate, especially since I made the tactical error of entering via the food court and an awful lot of people were standing around eating while blocking the entrance into the main market. Then I had to hobble through very small aisles between stalls. I did look at some of the pretties, but not too closely because too many people. So I decided that, while the market proper would get a decent look on some other day when we're not at the start of a bank holiday weekend, I should just get my fudge and be on my way, preferably via a pharmacy.

The shop was also small, and a lot of it was devoted to the area where the fudge slabs were sliced and stored (and also probably packaged for delivery). There were a couple of people in ahead of me and the first thing I heard from the guy running the shop (mid-60s minimum, one of those wiry guys who gets tough and leathery-looking when they get older, long hair, receding hairline, big beard, very engaging grin) was, "No, seriously, take a sample! We are happy for you to taste everything!" and talking about how even if you don't want fudge right now, and leave without buying anything, he's happy to give samples because you might think of the place the next time you want fudge, or a gift for a fudge-lover on holidays, or when you're recommending a treat to a friend. Good way to do business, frankly. So I tried some of the lemon sherbet fudge he was offering (which was really good; I decided at that moment to go for a five-slab box again, and that to be one of the five) and told him that I was very specifically there because I'd ordered some for delivery but the flavour I was most interested in wasn't available online. He asked which one, and when I told him, he went, "Oh; we will definitely rectify that!" So I might be responsible for the coffee fudge hitting the delivery list. Huzzah!

Anyway, he practically insisted that I try a sample of the coffee fudge, since I'd come there especially for it, and in the process he noticed my pin badges. As I ordered my selection (coffee, lemon sherbet, raspberry sorbet, cinnamon swirl, and peanut butter), first he said, "Decisive person; knows what they want. I like it!" and noticed my pin badges - specifically the D&D themed ones. He said he didn't play but that he was peripherally interested in the whole thing and I told him that the fudge was at least partly gaming snacks. To my utter surprise, he asked what I was throwing at my players this weekend. No stranger has ever asked me anything that specific about my gaming before. So I told him and that was a thing.

That brought us to Warhammer, and sideways into books - apparently he's at the penultimate book of the Horus Heresy. Since we were recommending books and he was almost at the end of an apparently very long series, I made a recommendation of my own - the Locked Tomb. When trying to tell him what it was about, the best I could come up with that was short enough not to be too spoilery or involved was "necromancer lesbians in space". The young woman who was packaging up fudge looked up for the first time at that point, going, "Oooh!" and the guy slammed his fist on the counter in a very Thor-like kind of way (you know, the "I like this! ANOTHER!" thing) and said, "YES. Why has no one done this before? I need this!" So I wrote down the title of the first book for him; he can get the rest from there.

Last little bit of discussion was Patrick Rothfuss, who I told him I only knew from his time on Critical Role, and described the letter he wrote to Keyleth in-character a bit. And by then, my fudge was packaged and it was time for me to be on my way. But I think he sincerely hoped I'd be back sometime. Which was nice. Either way, one of the best shopping experiences I've had in a long time.

Then I had to find a bus stop to head in a home-ward direction. This took awhile, because that particular bit of Greenwich has a lot of one-way streets. Finally found it after a bit of a walk, during which I noticed that the sky was going from sunshine and blue to dark and grey. Well, fuck. Waited a bit for the bus, and didn't notice until I was basically on it that it was only going halfway to where I needed it to go. However, it was stopping at New Cross, so there might be a pharmacy there. Even if not, there's a big Sainsbury's, and the start of a bus route that takes me past at least two pharmacies and about a block closer to home than the one I would have taken if it'd stopped at Peckham like it was supposed to. Unfortunately, it let me off a fair distance from the big Sainsbury's, and there were no pharmacies. Woe.

Stopped at the big Sainsbury's, picked up some vegetables and treated myself to a can of root beer, and waited for the bus. That's when it started to rain. "Fuck", was my only real comment to that. There is nothing more annoying than standing at the start of the route, weighed down with shopping, watching the bus driver fuck around, and knowing you can't complain because they are entitled to breaks too. Honestly, I would have just been happy enough with a bench. But nope.

Anyway, bus finally got moving, got as far as Dulwich, got off near a pharmacy, picked up my mallet meds, back to the bus stop, ten minute wait for the next bus, and finally home - tired, sore, but triumphant.

...Then I started cooking dinner, which was roast chicken. I did really well, too. First I discovered that sage and lemon balm are a nice combination of herbs to stuff into the cavity; gives a really nice flavour to the meat, especially in combination with an onion and an entire bulb of garlic. Then I discovered that whatever I did to that chicken (might have been the slight oiling and salting of the skin before I put it in the oven, or maybe the herbs, or both), it resulted in the chicken being exceptionally juicy and tender. As in, when I went to carve off a leg for dinner, the thigh bone just kind of ... fell out. So ... that was good.

Boiled up the carcass, too - onion, garlic, herbs and all. May have boiled it too long, mind you. Or maybe not; what I have is a highly concentrated stock-jelly, of sorts. I figure I do what I would do with stock cubes or those little pots of jelly stock you can get at the grocery store - water it down and heat it, and stock will ensue. Which is good, because the leftover chicken breast is going to be risotto later.

But not today. Today I have done enough, and on top of what I did yesterday, I deserve more of a break. But that's why I have so many reheatables - on days when I have simply Ceased To Can, I can stick a thing in the microwave but still have home-cooked niceness.

So that was my Adventure. The lemon sherbet fudge is already gone, sad to say. But I still have more fudge, so that's nice. No major regrets for the Adventure, but man do I hurt, especially on top of the Adulting. I mean, hell, I mopped the kitchen floor today. Which would be more impressive if the kitchen weren't the approximate size of a postage stamp, but there we are. I have leftovers and fudge and cookies, plus still a lot of my proper American Sour Patch Kids, and I will have potato salad, and eventually some chicken katsu curry and risotto and chili and...

Look, if it's going to hurt no matter what I make myself to eat, I'm going to make sure the things I'm hurting myself to make are fucking worth it.

#Thess cooks #Thess is a motherfucking adult

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dollarbin · 7 months ago

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Sandy Saturdays #11:

Friends

A surprisingly caustic song always gets my attention. Whether it's Dylan sneering at some poor Greenwich Village denizen, demanding that they come and stand inside his shoes for a moment so as to know what a drag it is to see them,

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or, 50+ years later, Lucy Dacus resisting the urge to punch an even poorer soul right in the teeth, I'm drawn to gruff brutality in song when it comes from a normally humane artist.

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Dylan and Dacus wrap their causticity in paradoxically lovely sonic packages, and so we're drawn in even tighter to their songs; we're fascinated, repelled and suddenly eager to confront our own imagined enemies: I'd surely floor them with my comparable wit: "Enjoy the slammer Donald... Beware my terrible wrath, Stephen..."

Yeah, I should probably come up with something a bit wittier for Trump and Stills just in case we bump into one another at the urologist...

Sandy Denny, master of every genre she attempted, provides a perfect bridge between Dylan and Dacus's wrathful harmonies. She wraps Friends, the most brutal of her songs, in one her richest and most lovely arrangements. The patient piano, Dave Mattack's signature drumming, the lush strings and the direct, perfect vocals all soar with friendly grace, but Sandy's title is ironic and her message is clear: the dude she is singing to is no friend.

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I have no idea who this song is about. All the internet has to say is that it addresses "a famous rock star who courted her" during the era. That means it wasn't her soon to be husband: he was the opposite of famous. That would be infamous.

So, was it Robert Plant, who she so famously sang with in 71, then left to live in the country immediately after telling him so long? He was about 6 feet taller (I've watched you rise up) than Sandy but I can see her knocking him down to hobbit height (and I've watched you fall down) after he went on and on without her at the end of the otherwise brilliant Battle of Evermore.

Or was it someone else in the band? They all look a bit off together; perhaps Sandy is already busy writing cutting lyrics in her head:

Or was it a member of The Who? Denny guests on their symphonic version of Tommy in 72 and since all they were doing was lolligagging around and letting professionals recreate old songs of theirs that were never that great to begin with I can see one of them trying to get fresh with our hero.

But I'm not sure any of these guys look worth Sandy's time. Still, she does reference fools in Friends:

After all, imagine hiring Sandy and then having her sing all of two lines on your entire album. Who are they, you ask. (Who? Who? Who? Who?) They are foolish dummies:

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Or could Sandy's mysterious loser/lover be Ringo himself? He was involved in this Tommy thing too. But surely, it's not Ringo... Then again, he had lost about everything but what money could own at that point (let's see, he'd lost The Beatles, and he was busy being cuckolded by George Harrison at the time). But , come on: not even any of his former bandmates ever wrote an angry song about Ringo, and they sure did take the time to complain about everyone else in the band repeatedly in song. So it can't be Ringo. Impossible.

Well, anyway, there's some famous loser out there who inspired some dense yet straightforward, cutting and introspective words from Sandy.

I call upon my famous brother, who is surely putting the final touches on some insightful piece of music writing as we speak as a familial counter balance to this nonsense I pumping out, or the culprit themself, to fill us all in via the comments section below: who (who!who!who!who!) deserves our forever thanks for inspiring Sandy's lovely, angry song? And who deserves our forever disdain for upsetting Sandy to begin with?

Is it you, Stephen Stills? Reveal yourself!

Update: Well, that didn't take long: our Sandy Saturday had barely began when my famous brother reported that the jerky troublemaker in this saga was in fact Pete Townshend. My brother was born in 1979, 7 years after this all went down, so he is apparently not a first hand witness and cannot testify under oath. He has, however, done some actual research; turns out such facts are easily obtainable if you simply read a book on this subject rather than writing recklessly whatever the hell pops in your small brain. I will claim credit for putting Townshend on my list of suspects to begin with; my powers of deduction are, well, marginal.

Anyway, I hereby declare that pissing off Sandy and inspiring the fantastic song Friends is Pete Townshend's greatest musical contribution. I'm not a big Who fan, you see... My almost famous other brother gave me Live at Leeds decades ago and I listened, shrugged, and then went back to Fotheringay.

Cheers Everyone.

#sandy denny #sandy saturdays #stephen stills sucks #lucy dacus #bob dylan

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frangipanilove · 2 years ago

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All Lines Converge …At The Louvre?

A response to THIS post by @angelthefirst1

Thanks @angelthefirst1 for this fun assignment! I love where you are going with this, and I do have thoughts on it. I'll try to relay some of them below, and I'll try to be brief, though I cant' give any guaranties.

(ETA: it was not brief, not at all...)

When we first met Maggie again back in 10x17 Home Sweet Home, we were made aware of the name of her community, Meridian. The name immediately struck me as significant for a couple of reasons. First, "meridian" is a reference to the lines that goes through a map in a north to south direction. It therefore ties into the "navigation" theme, the "map" theme as well as the "North" symbolism. Further, "meridional" is a term that translates to "southern", which further amplifies the symbolical ties to these themes.

In Acheron 2 we got a significant addition. Maggie mentioned the word "Meridian" in relation to a reference to a radio tower, I'm borrowing your illustration here.

This little scene turned out to be a key to further our understanding of the symbolism landscape in TWDU, and it gave us clues into how to interpret it. Let's look at a few of the implications of this new information.

Negan's compass: In Acheron 2 there was a mention of a radio tower and a reference to Meridian. As you explained, @angelthefirst1, Negan was their "DC tour guide" in the Acheron episodes, which calls back to Beth's DC spoon from Still and the general map/compass/navigation/North Star symbolism. I've talked about how I interpret the DC spoon from Still in a "navigation" theme framework, and IMO the "DC tour guide" comment plays into that. We saw Negan being tied to the navigation/North Star symbolism in 9x9, when he stole a compass from Judith. She confronted him with it, but let him keep it, telling him "It will help yoy find your way". In The series finale we saw Judith recieve a package from Negan, returning the compass, admitting it had helped him find his way, confirming what the North Star symbolism is about, and that it's still in play.

Compasses are part of the North symbolism, and ultimately represent finding your way "home", as explaind by Carl in 6x10.

We saw this play out in Negan's escape attempt in 9x9. He meant to escape, went away for a while, but eventually returned "home". We also saw Judith shoot at him, but the bullet didn't kill him, which is interesting as well.

Meridian: The word "meridian" after which Maggie's settlement was named, refers to the lines that goes from north to south on a map. They are essentially geographic reference lines we use in relation to navigation.

The word "meridian" is also used to establish different time zones, and many countries name their timezone as they relate to the Prime Meridian which runs through the Greenwich Observatory on London, England.

The Greenwich Mean Time, or GMT, refers to the time of day when the sun crosses the Greenwich meridian, and timezones will be named for example GMT +1 (Greenwich Mean Time plus one hour).

Before it was decided that the Greenwich Meridian were to be the Prime Meridian, the French championed on behalf of their own Paris Meridian, but in the end, the Greenwich Meridian prevailed.

Interestingly, the fictional Rose Line from the Da Vinci Code was actually based on the real Paris Meridian.

We've discussed The Da Vinci Code a lot through the years, as it seems like a lot of the symbolism we see in TWD is heavily inspired by various elements of the book. And now, with Maggie's Meridian settlement there's yet another connection to Dan Brown's novel.

In The Da Vinci Code, we saw how Professor Langdon followed the Rose Line, which is based on the real Paris Meridian, through Paris to the glass pyramid outside the Louvre. He realized that the tomb of Maria Magdalena was hidden below the inverted pyramid under the glass pyramid outside The Louvre.

Inside the hidden tomb lay Maria Magdalena, the mother of Jesus' child, the child that kept the blood line of Jesus alive into our own time.

For TD, this ties into a multitude of our theories. I've recently talked about Daryl's blood and how his blood saved Judith's life in "Red Is The Living Colour". I've talked about "Trunk" symbolism for years, which ultimately is a reference to the tomb of Christ and how Maria Magdalena one day found it empty. We’ve written numerous theories in which the symbolism from The Da Vinci Code features heavily. In season 5 we saw a plaque on the wall in Father Gabriel's church which was a reference to Da Vinci's fresco "The Last Supper", which we theorize the kitchen scene from 4x13 Alone was modeled after. Furthermore, @wdway has through the years discovered brilliant connections between TWD and The Da Vinci Code that really deserves a post on its own.

"The Holy Grail" in The Da Vinci Code was the tomb of Maria Magdalena, mother of the child that carried the bloodline of Jesus, the ancestral mother of Sophie Neveu, a direct descendant of Jesus. @wdway keeps discovering chevron symbols in TWD, which are identical to the symbolism Robert Langdon explores in his hunt for the true Holy Grail, and there are some truly amazing parallels to TWD.

Greenhouse symbolism: I've always viewed the glass pyramid outside The Louvre and the inverted pyramid below it as potential tie-ins to the broken greenhouse from 4x4 Indifference. That was the episode that put the "Red Controls The Gates" symbolism on my radar, and it also revealed how the greenhouse symbolism is tied into it.

In the episode, Ana mentioned that she had found tomatoes (which are red), inside the greenhouse. They had survived because of a hole through the roof in the greenhouse, which had allowed for rain to come through, providing the plants with water. To me, that strengthens the "Red Controls The Gates" symbolism, and it is also a tie-in to the "red" symbolism around Maria Magdalena which I talked about in "Red Is The Living Colour".

Therefore, also ties into the Meridian symbolism inherent in the name of Maggie's settlement, because as we've discussed, the Rose Line (based on the Paris Meridian) showed Langdon the way to Maria Magdalena's hidden tomb.

Tomb symbolism: My interpretation of the greenhouse symbolism in TWD is that it represents a tomb. But because we get the story of a hole through the roof that let the tomatoes survive and become red in 4x4 Indifference, the tomb symbolism comes with "emergency exits", meaning a person who is affected by the tomb symbolism has a "way out", an "emergency exit", so to speak. We see this again in The Da Vinci Code, in which the bloodline of Jesus was able to survive through his child, born after his death to Maria Magdalena. The bloodline didn't die with him, it survived.

One thing we have to understand about the TWD references to The Da Vinci Code and Maria Magdalena's tomb below the glass pyramid is that first of all, a pyramid is, by definition, a "tomb".

That was their original purpose in Ancient Egypt; to be magnificent tombs for the pharaohs. And when we see "tomb" symbolism in TWD, it is, in my opinion, a reference to the tomb of Jesus, the one Mary Magdalene discovered to be empty.

I've always called the "tomb" symbolism in TWD "Trunk" symbolism. We saw in Still how a trunk can be a hiding place and keep you safe, but in 5x10 Them, we saw the flip side to that, a trunk can keep you trapped and become your tomb. There's a duality there. But it is that duality that allows for characters like Rick, Madison and hopefully Beth to "come back" from the dead, to "return", to escape their "tombs".

Team Violet and the Sirius Piggybank: As I've talked about ad nauseum, "Sirius" symbolism in TWD represents "return". It symbolizes Sirius The Dog Star, that disappears from the night sky for a while, only to reappear one morning before dawn. We saw it around Beth in Alone when Beth and Daryl were visited by the white one-eyed dog.

In Acheron 2 we saw Maggie lead the group towards a radio tower, and the word Meridian was spoken, which makes it a combined Sirius and North Star/navigation theme reference. It also ties into the Maria Magdalena stuff from above because as I've described, the Rose Line from The Da Vinci Code is based on the real Paris Meridian, which really does go through Paris and even The Louvre. And we have been told that the Daryl spin off will involve The Louvre in some way, shape or form.

It is starting to appear as though all lines eventually will converge at The Louvre…

Let's bring in the World Beyond after-credits scene, where we are given serious clues as to where TWDU will be going in the future. We see a lady watch video messages from Dr.Jenner who we met in season one. W hear about Team Primrose and Team Violet. We watch her get interrupted by a French speaking man, who eventually murders her. We watch her quickly turn into a type of ferocious walker we have never before seen on the show, and we understand that this is a new Variant.

The "violet" reference immediately struck me as important, because we've had a few "violet" references through the years. We remember Violet The Pig from season 3, and then there's the purple/violet blanket Beth had thrown over her prison cell door. There was also a purple fan next to the aforementioned compass Negan stole from Judith. Could it be a nod to Team Violet and how it's related to the compass symbolism?

Violet is an important clue.

In 8x11 Dead Or Alive Or we saw Father Gabriel loose sight on one eye. That episode was very symbolism-heavy, and we saw a piggybank, which I like to call the Sirius Piggybank, because it is a reference to the Sirius Piggyback from Alone. I've elaborated on it in the "Backpacks, Back Pockets and the Ass End" posts.

We've already discussed the radio tower from Acheron 2, and how radios are Sirius symbolism. On the side of the Sirius Piggybank from 8x11, there is an image of a radio tower, and the words "Ham Radio". Ham radio is slang for amateur short band radio, but it is of course also a reference to "pigs"…as in Violet The Pig…

There's a direct link from the radio tower in Acheron 2 to the Sirius Piggybank in 8x11. There are radio towers in both, that's the "Sirius" symbolism. They also both tie into the Sirius Piggyback from Alone, and to Violet the Pig…

…and to Team Violet from the World Beyond coda, which of course is directly tied to why Daryl is going to France in the first place. See how all clues seem to lead to… France, and to Paris, and perhaps even specifically to The Louvre?

The Louvre:

Let's talk about The Louvre for a second. It's undeniably one of the most famous museums on the planet and houses some truly incredible collections of art.

We've actually had a few interesting references to The Louvre through the years. First of all, let's appreciate that the etymology of the name The Louvre seems to suggest a reliable tie to the french word for "wolf".

And for TD, that is of course interesting because of the line "there's gonna be a party when the wolf comes home" from the song that plays at the end of Still as we watch Beth and Daryl burn the Moonshine Shack.

In one of the TWDU spin offs "World Beyond", we saw Percy recreate The Louvre in the back of a truck for a date with Faith. He put up pictures from an art book to make the back of the truck (trunk symbolism) resemble The Louvre. We of course saw the Mona Lisa, probably one of the most famous works of art in the world, as well as other famous pieces, and eagle eyed @wdway also spotted a picture of Venus de Milo, the famous statue which can be found at The Louvre. I'll explain why that is absolutely monumental in a minute.

Percy even took the effort to create a replica of the glass pyramid we see outside The Louvre, the same pyramid under which Professor Langdon, in The Da Vinci Code, found "The Holy Grail", the tomb of Maria Magdalena.

We watch Faith admire all the artwork, there are a couple of books there, one of which deals with resurrection. We see Faith fall asleep in the back of the truck, directly below the make-shift Louvre pyramid. Then she naps.

Surrounded by wonderful artwork that calls our minds to France, she sleeps. There's a picture with a French flag there...

Just like Princess Aurora in the Fairy Tale about Sleeping Beauty, she sleeps. Just like Princess Aurora, who shares her name with Aurora, the Roman Goddess of Dawn, as well as Aurora Borealis, the beautiful, green Northern Lights...she sleeps...

...then we see her suddenly wake up...from underneath the pyramid...that represents the pyramid outside The Louvre in Paris...

...where according to the novel The Da Vinci Code, the hidden tomb of Maria Magdalena is located...where Maria Magdalena sleeps, so to speak...

we watch Faith sit up...

...behind her face, we see a picture of Venus de Milo...

(thanks @wdway for always having screenshots at hand)

Venus, Sirius, Morningstar:

I mentioned Venus de Milo above, and there are good reasons for that. Venus De Milo is a famous marble statue believed to depict Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of Love (Venus is her Roman name), and it is one of the most famous works of art found at The Louvre.

For TD this is particularly interesting because of how prominent the Sirius symbolism on the show has been. Sirius refers to the star Sirius, and it is called The Morningstar because of how it disappears from the night sky for an extended period of time, and then reappears one morning before dawn.

However, Sirius is not the only celestial object referred to as a Morningstar. In ancient times, people believed that the planet Venus was a star, and because it sometimes appeared on the night sky right before dawn, it was referred to as the Morning Star. This name stuck, even when it was later discovered it was in fact a planet, not a star.

And as prominent as the Sirius symbolism has been on the show, the Venus symbolism has also undeniably had a strong presence. I'll name a few of the most important incidences.

In 3x8 When The Dead Come Knocking, we saw a painting of Botticelli's "Birth Of Venus", and interestingly, it was inverted, just like the pyramid under the glass pyramid outside The Louvre, the one that in The Da Vinci Code marked the tomb of Maria Magdalena.

It's also interesting to note that the painting we saw in 5x4 Slabtown, Caravaggio's "The Denial Of Saint Peter" showed Saint Peter. One of Caravaggio's other famous works also involves Saint Peter, namely "The Crucifiction Of Saint Peter". In fact, an inverted cross has come to be called a "Saint Peter's Cross, after Saint Peter requested he'd be crucified on an inverted cross to distinguish himself from Christ, as he didn't consider himself worthy of dying in the same way Christ did.

I've talked about my interpretation of the Slabtown clock in previous posts. I won't get into all of that here, but I have to bring it up because it ties into the Venus/Morning Star symbolism. I'll try to keep it brief but I need to mention that the numbers of the time on the clock can be interpreted in many ways. You can say the time shown is 10.10, or ten minutes past ten, but the ten minutes can also refer to "2", which we find references to on for instance Noah's T-shirt (one one).

This is a bit complex and it's better suited for a separate post, but for the purposes of this post I'll just mention that we find variations of these numbers throughout the seasons. We find it again in the season 9 episode Scars, where we watch Daryl get tortured with a cattle branding iron. In season 10 we get to see this scars, which reads like "X II". Those are symbols that could be interpreted within the same framework as the Slabtown clock. The X could refer to the Roman Numeral for "ten", and the parallel lines could be read as Roman Numeral for two, it could also be read as 11, and it could be read as "one one", just like on Noah's T-shirt.

Apologies for this seemingly confusing tangent on numbers, but I'm getting to the point shortly.

When we saw Daryl's scars after the episode Scars, I immediately tied them to episode 10x11, and I knew my intuition touched on something vital when we later learned that season 10 episode 11 were to be called "Morningstar".

In short; the scars on Daryl's back (remember back is Sirius symbolism, re. the Backpack, Back pocket and the Ass End posts) foreshadowed episode 10x11 Morningstar. The episode name is simultaneously a reference to the Sirius symbolism and the Venus symbolism.

It is also a callback to the Slabtown clock through the interpretation of the numbers on it, and it ties the painting of Saint Peter to the inverted cross of Saint Peter, which in turn ties into the inverted "Birth Of Venus" painting from 3x8 WTDCK, which in turn ties into the inverted pyramid at The Louvre.

The Louvre is the home of Venus de Milo. Daryl will be at The Louvre in his spin off, and we know that in The Da Vinci Code, the hidden tomb of Maria Magdalena were situated below the inverted pyramid under the glass pyramid outside The Louvre. It was the Rose Line that led professor Langdon to her tomb in The Da Vinci Code, and the fictional Rose Line is based on the real Paris Meridian, that does indeed go through the Louvre and were the Frenchmen's preferred choice to become the Prime Meridian.

I wonder if Team Primrose, which we learn about in the World Beyond coda, could in reality be just another reference to the Louvre, through the fact that the fictional Rose Line, is based on the real Paris Meridian, which once were concidered by the French to be the real Prime Meridian?

Rose Line + Primrose = Prime Meridian?

Regardless, it was foreshadowed by the name of Maggie's settlement Meridian.

Which is tied to Beth through a multitude of different theories on a multitude of symbols.

The Sirius Piggyback. The Sirius Piggybank with the radio tower from 8x11 Violet the Pig Team Violet, Team Primrose and the Variant walkers.

The Greenwich Meridian, The Paris Meridian and the Rose Line The French coda from World Beyond.

Sirius is a Morningstar. And so is Venus.

The "Rose Line" in The Da Vinci Code was what led Professor Langdon to the Holy Grail, the tomb of Maria Magdalena. Could Maggie's Meridian settlement be the TWD version of the Rose Line from The Da Vinci Code, the geographical reference line that helps us navigate the map of symbolism we've drawn up through the past eleven seasons of TWD, to help us make sense of the symbolism landscape of the show?

Sirius piggyback. Sirius piggybank. Violet the pig. Team Violet. Variant walkers. Venus de Milo. The Birth Of Venus. Venus the Morning Star. Sirius rising before Dawn. Aurora Borealis, Aurora the Roman Goddess of Dawn…

All the lines seem to converge at The Louvre.

And Daryl wll be there for it...

#bethyl #daryl dixon #beth greene #team delusional #team defiance #beth x daryl #team beth lives #beth and daryl #daryl and beth #darylxbeth

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