#also new oc lol hes name is Oscar its the last one in the right corner

[frostfloweragainlol-alias-juno]

Here’s my attempt lol

Choose ur fighter..

Here we go again

[platinumshawnn]

Bound by Blood and Fire — Benjicot Blackwood x Tully!oc (pt ii)

A/N: hi! I really dragged my heels on writing this next part because I love to procrastinate. I actually cut a scene from this because it was already running pretty long. Also a *brief* little masturbation scene randomly weaseled its way in there, lol sorry. Content warning??? I did my best to proofread but I probably missed stuff, also please know that I’m aware Oscar is a brunette in the show, he’s a redhead in the books ✨

Synopsis: Elmo and Oscar Tully arrive at House Blackwood to be debriefed on the finalized terms of Serra’s and Benjicot’s betrothal. Tensions among the houses rise as Serra receives support from her father and yields to giving Benjicot a chance. As their engagement is announced to the other houses, news of murders in King’s Landing highlights the broader conflict looming over them.

General content warnings: MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism and gender based harassment/discrimination, sexual content, mild depictions of family based violence, implied suicide ideation.

Word count: 8.8k

BBF Masterlist

backward

Serra Tully could only describe Benjicot Blackwood as repulsive if she had to use one word — the kind that made her nauseous, gray in the face sick at the very idea of him.

"To my dear Lady Serra, who I am told, has a tongue as sharp as her needlework. Pray, let's hope she proves as skilled with her wifely duties as she is with her embroidery."

His voice, paired with that stupid smile haunted her as she lay down in bed that night, struggling to find sleep with her eyes stuck to the ceiling. Paired with brother’s laughter, the comment was more horrifying as her face burned with embarrassment — if it were possible, she would have left right then and there; packed her belongings back up, and returned to Riverrun. But she knew that upon arrival, her father would have been furious and only dragged her back. 

“Have you no honor?” Her father would sigh, frustrated and red in the face. 

Even with all the pleading and reasoning, this was not something she could talk her father out of -- this wasn’t some feast, some meeting of the Lords. This was a marriage pact that he and Kermit had meticulously planned out and negotiated, and there was no amount of foot-stomping or yelling she could do to undo that. At some point during her sleepless night, haunted by the smug grin of Benjicot, did she consider the idea of running away and living in the trees -- but she had no survival skills for the wild and knew she wouldn’t last a week out there. She had considered fleeing to the North, but from the stories she had heard of its cold, harsh winters, she knew she wouldn’t thrive there. And King’s Landing had become no man’s land and she didn’t want to be stuck there during these times. It would only be a matter of days before her father and brothers somehow heard of her presence there, either way and would have her dragged right back. 

The only comforting thought would be the arrival of her family, despite her anger towards her oldest brother and father, she felt it would be of comfort to at least have a face around that she recognized. And Oscar -- her dear, little brother Oscar would at least be neutral and she could convince herself someone was at least on her side. 

She had only been lucky to catch brief bouts of sleep, lasting no more than a half hour each time before she was startled awake by a shout from the distance; once again, awake and staring at the ceiling, before she was roused by a young girl who looked about her age as the sun rose. Its light streamed in through the windows, bringing with it warmth, a nice break in the dreary weather that had been terrorizing the Riverlands for weeks. 

She had dressed with assistance from the same girl whose name she had learned was Grace, her gaze out on the fields and limbs heavy with exhaustion, needing several reminders to lift her arms or to move throughout the process. As she had finished dressing, she was summoned for breakfast, nodding feebly and barely audible as she thanked Grace, before the young blonde girl had nodded and withdrew from her room. She wasn’t even hungry, but she went regardless. 

Still, even at breakfast, as she poked at the eggs on her plate that had been paired with fish, did she imagine what would happen if she were to flee. Would anyone notice? If so, how long of a heads-start would she get before they came searching for her? Would they even search for her? Or would they just accept things as they were and betroth one of her younger cousins to Benjicot in her place? She wondered who it would be if they did, maybe Rose? Elisa? Elisa, even at the tender age of ten-and-four was already beautiful, with her long blonde her and light eyes, an exuberant young woman…

“My lady?” 

Her head snapped up to where another young guard stood opposite of her at the other end of the table, staring at her. Her gaze instinctively scanned down the length of him, a habit to observe that she had — young and handsome in the face, Serra wondered if it was just custom at Raventree that the staff and its people were all striking and easy on the eyes. He stood silent, waiting before he spoke again upon a receiving a simple hum and raise of her brows in acknowledgment, “Your father and brother have arrived. They are in the yard if you would like me to take you to them.” He said, voice deep and smooth as velvet. 

Her gaze dropped to her plate, her stomach churning in rejection at the thought of eating anything more than the three bites she had managed to take. She nodded, standing from her seat with a loud drag of the heavy chair, removing the napkin she had placed in her lap and dropping it over the plate. Folding her hands at her abdomen, she walked around the chair and table to approach the young guard who watched her movements, “Yes, please.” She softly said. 

He turned with a curt nod in her direction, only a few paces ahead as he led her through the doors and into the halls, the walls of the keep otherwise silent aside from their footsteps as they walked out the front doors. He led her down the steps, heading towards the gardens onto a path where they turned right onto, before soon met by the familiar sight of the back of her younger brother’s head; his red hair shone in the sun, dressed in his finer clothes with his back to her as he spoke to another guard, gesturing to the pastures that stretched out for miles. With a nod to the guard who stopped abruptly, she offered a hushed ‘thank you’ before hurrying past him. 

“Oscar!” She called, his head whirling towards her voice. 

A smile lit up his face at the sight of her, apologizing to his companion. He hurried towards her, a brisk walk as he reached out to meet her hands that stretched out towards him, relief washing over her as she tore her hands from his and hugged him.

“Sister?” He laughed, obviously confused by the sudden gesture. 

Though Oscar did not push her away or even cringe away from the gesture, instead awkwardly embracing her with a pat on her shoulder, she sensed his confusion. She pulled away, met by his curious gaze, sighing, “It is good to see you again.” She said, taking one of his hands in hers, “It is good to have a face I recognize here.” She admitted. 

Oscar let out a breath, chuckling and squeezing her hand, “It is good to see you too.” 

“Come, walk with me.” She said, dragging him around as she walked past him and grabbing his elbow with her right hand, “Tell of your journey. How are things back home?” She asked, excitedly as bright eyes stared at her brother, giddy. Oscar laughed once more and allowed her to lead, walking alongside her as they followed the path away from the house. 

“It has only been two days.” He said, teasing her. 

“It feels as though it has been weeks.” She said, waving him off with her free hand. 

His nose scrunched with a smile, rolling his eyes at her theatrics. They walked, her gaze on his face, more than happy to hear of anything but her engagement for the first time in days. He caught her up on the events that had transpired in her short time away, everything down to an alleged spotting of Brackens at the borders between lands; hiding in bushes, but that their cousin and his friends had seen them. A fleet of Blackwood men had pushed them back and issued a warning, according to her brother. She hummed, nodding along and smiling brightly as they walked, content to get out of the cursed walls of Raventree; it almost felt as though nothing had changed and the whole betrothal was nothing but a nightmare. She could have even convinced herself this whole trip was nothing more than just a friendly drop-in. 

“What of Grandsire?” She blurted out, interrupting him while her hand clutched Oscar’s forearm as they walked, his head turning towards the entrance of the estate, scanning as though he was worried someone would overhear as he cautiously eyed the guards that seemed to stand at every corner. His shoulders lifted subtly in a shrug, gaze not quite yet returning to her as she looked straight ahead and followed his pace as they walked. 

“He is not well, as you know.” He reminded her, though it was not new news to her, the man had been on his deathbed for what felt like years, “But…” 

“But?” 

Oscar shrugged again, his head turning finally to look straight ahead as well, scanning along the path that was surrounded by lush greenery — Raventree’s yards much better maintained than theirs back home.

“I heard him and Father and Kermit speaking a few nights before your departure, from the hallway…” Oscar began to explain, her head turning to look at him, his eyes casting a side glance at his sister, “He wishes to support Aegon’s claim to the throne. However,  you know our father’s stance. And Kermit’s.” Oscar said, his words slow and hushed to a volume only they could hear, his head turning fully to look at her.  

If times were different, this kind of betrayal could have had more serious implications — the very act of overthrowing their grandfather, the Paramount Lord of Riverrun, undermining his authority, his very word. If times were different, he might have even pushed for punishment by death if it was in his authority, being that he had been such a hot-tempered man as long as she could remember — he’d maybe seek out another heir, not that he was short of any. But instead, he was just a mere man now, sickly and on his deathbed, aged and too frail to even raise a hand. Serra nodded, silently. 

Serra preferred Oscar’s presence more than Kermit’s. He understood the value of comfortable silences, not filling them out of obligation with empty comments. When he did speak, it was of intelligence, conversations that had sincere depth to them, knowledge and wisdom that flowed so effortlessly. There was no awkwardness, no prying to get an answer. He understood that sometimes she just preferred not to speak. She felt that any tension that clung to her shoulders melted away and she could breathe in his presence and that she could speak freely. 

“Brother tells me you are not happy about your betrothal.” Oscar stated, his eyes ahead as they walked among the gardens, her own drawn to the bushes of flowers just beginning to bloom, silently sighing at the subject, “Your groom, I suppose.” He added, though there was a lilt to his voice that hinted at his own amusement. 

“I take it you knew of their plans.” She pointedly accused, turning to look up at him on her right. 

She could see the corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smile, his shoulders shaking with a laugh, “And you did not think to warn me?” 

“I did not think you would mind…I believe Kermit himself suggested the uncle of Lord of Frey -- Aldean, I believe his name was. A widower, fifty-and-two years of age.” He explained, still teasing his older sister, who did not share his humor over the matter as she abruptly stopped, pulling her arm away. He turned to look at her, met with a frown, “Oh, come on, sister. I only jest.” Oscar said, reaching for her to encourage their walk to resume, however, he sensed her seriousness over the matter and realized there would be no continuing their walk anytime soon. Not until she’d gotten this out of her system.

“I do not find that very funny, Oscar.” She stated. 

“My apologies, sister. I didn't mean to upset you.” He sighed, turning to face her. “But I truly did not think it would be much of an issue.” 

She let out a curt laugh, her expression one of bemusement, “That I would be sold off to the highest bidder, as nothing but a broodmare? Condemned to a life of squeezing out as many heirs as possible?” She ranted. Her brother appeared horrified by her words, eyes widening as he stared at her, mouth agape like a fish out of water. He closed his mouth, blinking rapidly a couple of times and composing himself.

“I assure you that is the last thing Kermit and father wished for you.” He sincerely tried to reason with her, stepping towards her. 

“They’ve condemned me to a life of misery, forced to marry a man who despises me, Oscar.” She snapped, her voice a hiss. “A man who only means to humiliate me and drag my name through the mud for no reason at all. He made that very clear in front of Kermit last night, and he laughed! This…monstrosity was not born of honor or respect, but rather a man’s pride and their want for more power, I am just some pawn to entertain that idea.” 

Oscar hesitated before grabbing her upper arm, beginning to drag her further down the pathway of the garden suddenly, hushing her as he glanced behind them towards the guards who appeared to have been alerted to her rant and had eyed her as she spoke. They crossed the yard, and though she attempted to wriggle from his grasp she was left unsuccessful, confused, and angry as he dragged them another several feet before releasing her, “What do you think you’re doing?” She snapped, stumbling back a step when he released her. He looked at her. 

“You’ve every right to be angry, but need I remind you you’re a noble-highborn lady, sister.” He suddenly interrupted, her mouth open and ready to spew more angry rants. “Do you understand what that means? You’re invaluable, especially now. Especially amidst a war that hangs at our front doorstep, that is sure to bring bloodshed that neither you nor I could ever comprehend. Now I am sorry that Benjicot is not the match you’ve always wished for, but you are a highborn lady-- you have as much a part in this as any of us. I do not mean to scare you but pull your head out of the ground.” 

She gawked at him, eyes wide and processing his words, reflecting on events of the past few weeks. Surely, she hadn’t been naive enough to think that the moment Aegon took the throne as a usurper, she hadn’t expected any less -- that a war of some degree would happen and her brothers and father would be called to the frontlines. But something about the urgency of his tone, the underlying fear there both in voice and face, sent shivers down her spine as she deflated. 

“Sister, listen to me. This was not an easy choice for either of them, I have listened to them these past weeks. But please try to see reason-- this is a time of uncertainty…of fear for even the toughest of men.” He said, closing the gap between to grab her hand, holding it between his as she stared at him, a frown of confusion etching itself into her features, “There are rumors from Kings Landing of Prince Lucerys’ death, some saying that it was one of the King Viserys’ own children who have slain him…”

“What?”

 Kinslaying, in the walls of King's Landing.

“Listen to me!” He snapped in response to her interruption, sighing. “Rhaenyra means to build an army, we have been called upon. The Blackwood’s too, Serra. We will be expected to march to war any day now..” 

She began to withdraw her hand, turning to look back at Raventree and trying to recall where they had entered the gardens from, beginning to hurry from their spot in the yards, “I…must see the father. Surely, these are just rumors.” She muttered, turning from her brother, Oscar’s face falling as he watched after her in a state of despair, his eyes filled with worry as he clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to say anything more than a quiet plea of her name. 

He had said enough. 

—

Serra stood by the doors of the grand hall, watching as her father and Samwell quietly conversed among themselves for what felt like eternity. Stood silently, clinging to whatever corner she could without getting in the way as the house staff rushed about, preoccupied by last-minute preparations ahead of the feast confirming their betrothal to the other houses — in a mere, short hours, everyone in the Riverlands would know that she and Benjicot Blackwood were to be married; a Tully to a Blackwood. Everyone from Raventree, to the Brackens and beyond once word spread. Her father would be sure to make it an occasion to be celebrated, as grand and extravagant as he could muster in these times. 

There was a moment where he had caught her eye, mid-conversation with Samwell. If pride and joy could be embodied into the form of a person, she could have assumed it would have been him right then, a broad smile on his face and looking at her as though she could do no wrong;  as though she had just ended the war before it could even take place and that of any others in the future — she wondered how diluted he had to have become since leaving Riverrun, convincing himself she’d wanted any part of this — Enough that he could suppress his supposed guilt and smile at her like that? 

Serra forced a tight-lipped smile in return while burying any hint of anger that bubbled inside her, instead maintaining her polite attitude and quiet as she allowed the two older men to finish their conversation in the meantime. She clutched her skirts and tucked herself as far out of the way as she could, picking at her nails and watching as the room came together, adorned in hues of burgundy’s, silver, and grey, lavish and extravagant.

It was only once the arrival of guests had begun did they break apart, all smiles and handshakes as they parted ways, that her father turned and made his way towards his daughter. That same soft smile that radiated pride on his face while he reached out for her hands, “My little dove.” He greeted, taking her hands into his as he looked her over, “I hope your journey was a smooth one and your brother’s company to be kind.” Elmo said, his voice laced with sincerity as he eyed his daughter; his gaze prying at the last half of his sentence. 

She drew in a sharp breath, voice small amidst the noise as she replied, “It was…tolerable. Long.” She admitted, her gaze following a young servant boy who barely looked of age as he rushed in with utensils to be laid out at the table, his eyes straight ahead. 

His stare remained on her, scanning her face and noting the tension in his daughter’s features, a contrast to her usually calm demeanor as he gently squeezed her hands to regain her attention. She looked back at him suddenly, gaze dropping to their hands with her mouth pursed, his eyes trying to find hers, “My dear,” he said, head lowering slightly as his concern became palpable by her uncharacteristic behavior. “Something troubles you.” He pointedly stated. 

He watched her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, one that was held and let out from behind clenched teeth. She looked up at him and once again in the direction of the table where a young girl was placing down napkins, straightening them with meticulous accuracy to ensure that each piece of fabric was placed identically; the red stitching catching her attention…

“Come, let’s walk and find somewhere to speak where there might not be as many distractions,” Elmo stated, releasing one of her hands and beginning to guide her in the direction of the doors with one arm coming around her shoulders. 

Serra looked up at him, nodding as they walked. She withdrew her hand from his and found his elbow, her other clutching at her skirts to pull them away from her feet, a measure to keep from tripping over the fabric that reached the toes of her shoes; her head down and allowing her father to guide them, offering pleasantries to a pair of councilmen they passed. He led them around the corner and down a hallway, Serra’s shoulders relaxing with relief as they’d found quiet — the hum of workers and chatter, a faint hum in the background, birds chirping from the yard, and the occasional shout from children playing somewhere in the gardens. The hallway was lit by natural lighting from the still bright skies, lined with windows that were almost thrice the size of her; their ledges up to her waist as they walked. After a few minutes of peace and using the opportunity to breathe for the first time since that morning, Serra was reminded of her conversation with Oscar, her eyes out the window to her right and stiffening again. 

“Tell me what bothers you, dove.” Elmo suddenly said from her left, her hands clasping together around his elbow; fidgeting with a ring on her right hand. 

“You did not tell me you were summoned to war.” She stated, turning her head to look at her father, whose features softened and morphed into a look of sorrow. 

“Because we haven’t…not yet, at least.” Elmo honestly replied, watching his daughter’s face intently, searching for any sort of emotion that could pinpoint her feelings, even a twitch of her lip or a squint. “I did not think it to be of any concern. I figured you would…become too engrossed in your wedding planning.” He continued, letting out a sigh as he covered her hands with one of his own, her own two hands enveloped by one of his with ease. 

“Why send me away now?” She asked, voice quiet and childlike. “Why not let me stay? Help somehow?” 

“You are helping, dove— by being here.” He assured, stopping their pace to pause in the middle of the bridge that overlooked the yards. He looked at her, “This is how you help. By being here— the sacredness of marriage and creating alliances that will help us in the days to come, that is your battle. Securing our house’s future, my dear girl.” He softly said. 

Her eyes stung with tears that welled up as she sucked in a breath, a flurry of emotions swelling in her chest— the anger, grief for what could have been if things had been different, the sadness. The fear and dread. 

“I know this is not what you wanted and I am sorry for placing you in this position against your will. And I am sorry for putting the needs of our house over your happiness,” he said, taking one of her hands into his and squeezing it gently as he lowered his head, ensuring he was eye-to-eye while they spoke, “But I know you will be safe here, even when I cannot be here to see to it myself.” 

“And what of you? Of Kermit and Oscar?” She asked finally, “Of grandfather?” 

Elmo’s mouth pursed into a line, stress lines creasing themselves deep into his face, “I will continue acting in your grandfather’s place, he’s too…old and senile to act in his better judgment. I would sooner deal with his weakened wrath than that of Rhaenyra’s dragons.” He muttered, patting her hand, “Kermit is to marry Lyanna Grey and Oscar to Margaery Chambers by year’s end.”

She looked away, looking back out the window behind her and towards the fields beyond the gates of Raventree, an ache in her chest at the thought of her brother’s facing the same fate she’d been doomed to; forced into a loveless marriage, “Is this what mother would have wanted for us? To marry strangers, without knowing what it was to be loved in return?” She quietly asked, unable to meet his gaze as her head turned and she found herself staring at her feet, fidgeting under his stare. 

Her words could have broken his heart then and there, the sight of his daughter so distraught. Duty aside, Elmo Tully had never been a cruel man and loved his children dearly. 

“No…” he admitted honestly, “she would not have.” He quietly added.

Serra let out a laugh under her breath, a bitter sound as she slid her hands from his and fidgeted with a stray fabric on her skirt. Elmo watched her for a moment, “And what comes from this marriage? What do we receive?” She asked, her tone changing to one more resembling anger, shaking as she spoke and looked up at him. 

He pondered his next words, a deep breath being exhaled from his nose, “We have promised military and territorial support to the Blackwoods in addition to your dowry. They in return have promised a trade agreement for routes directly between the two houses, resources controlled by their house, and their military aid. They’ve promised troops and weaponry.” Elmo slowly explained to not overwhelm her, running through the negotiation that had taken weeks to come by. “Benjicot has promised to keep you safe and act as your sworn protector, which is the most important thing to me.” 

Serra’s hands flung up with a sharp laugh, hardly able to believe his words as she turned and neared the ledge of the window, “And what might he protect me from, other than him?”

Her father stood back for a moment as she leaned into the ledge with her hands, a breeze passing through the corridor. He slowly approached her once he felt he had given her enough a moment to breathe, keeping some space between them and taking her left, looking out where she stared, “I know you two have not seen eye-to-eye in previous years and have had your quarrels. I recognize that it may not have been my best decision and may come as a betrayal.” 

He said, looking over at her while her gaze avoided him, straight ahead, “I know it is daunting marrying a stranger, someone who you do not love or trust yet. When I first married your mother, I barely knew her. But over time, we grew to love and understand each other deeply. Your mother and I learned to support and respect each other through our journey together. You and Benjicot will have the same opportunity to grow and build a bond if you give things a chance to…grow.” He tried to reassure her, unsure if he was successful as she did not even glance at him. 

He turned his head and rocked back and forth against the ledge for a moment, “I know he was not the best as a child, but he’s grown despite his antics. Kermit tells me last night did not go as he hoped, he and his father extended their apologies this morning.” he explained, earning another bitter laugh, “Benjicot is a good man though, with good values and he is loyal. In time I can only hope that he will prove that and you will come to appreciate his character.” Elmo said, suddenly drawn to the sound of grunts and wood colliding from beneath them, craning his head to catch a glimpse of a training pit that had been haphazardly built, two boys swinging their swords in a spar; his body turned towards his daughter but watching on as he spoke.

Serra turned to him finally, frowning, “You think he will treat me with the respect and kindness I deserve? Do you truly think he has grown? Because it seems like everyone else believes that to be true, but he’s yet to show me any signs of that.” 

“I do.” 

“And if you’re wrong?” She asked. “Then I’m to be doomed to a life of misery and suffering, married to a man who finds me insufferable?” 

His gaze lifted from the spar below them, letting out a chuckle at his daughter’s rant and reaching out again to gather one of her hands in his, “You will be fine, I am sure of it.” He softly said, “While it’s natural to feel uncertain, trust that this union has the potential to bring joy and strength. Give it a chance, as I did with your mother. You have the support and strength of our entire family behind you. We will be here for you every step of the way, dove.” 

They stared at each other for a moment, and though Serra was unsure she felt any more confident in Benjicot, she felt a sense of comfort in her father’s words. His free hand lifted to cup her face, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “You are a Tully, my dear girl. You will always be okay.” He muttered into her hair, backing up and releasing her hand. His gaze flickered towards the pit below them once more, flashing her a smile before he took his leave, brushing past her and returning in the direction of the hall without saying anything more and leaving her in silence, processing his words; picking at the edges of her nails, plucking at the skin. 

Her interest peaked at whatever his eyes had found amidst the yard as a shout interrupted her thoughts. 

Her gaze turned down to where her father’s own had been moments prior. She had to lean over the ledge of the window to see where his attention had been drawn to — there, her eyes landed on a dirt patch in a clearing of grass, a brown-haired boy engaged in a spar with another boy, circling one another with wood swords in hand; stripped down to their tunics as they trained, doublets long-since abandoned in the grass. Serra had never been one to take an interest in the hobbies of men, having never understood the fun of rolling in the dirt with faux swords, but as they turned slightly, her gaze was drawn to the taller boy of the two. 

Benjicot. He turned, broad-shouldered, lean, and admittedly handsome Benjicot, whose gaze was transfixed intensely on his opponent — a boy she recognized as a cousin of his — with such focus, sword in his right hand. His sweat-slick face, red and flushed, pulled into a frown of concentration. She watched on as he swung the sword down on the boy opposite of him, the swords colliding in a crack! that echoed through the yard, causing his opponent to stumble back before the sword swung in his direction again; just missing his belly and leaping back out of its path. There was hardly a chance for his cousin to recoil from his attack, the sword once more being swung upwards and just missing his chin in the process. She could admit that Benjicot was not just another Southern boy, weak and existing behind false confidence — Benjicot was also powerful and fierce. He was a ferocious warrior in battle. He was an impressive force to be reckoned with. Suddenly, the thought of her brothers and father fighting alongside him on the battlefield did not seem as daunting or terrifying to think about. 

She continued to watch on as his cousin stumbled back, holding his sword up and blindly swinging at Benjicot, who responded by lifting his right foot and kicking him by his chest onto his back with one swift blow; sending the male reeling backward into the dirt with a grunt when his head slammed back into the ground. Benjicot quickly stood over him, the tip of his sword being pressed against his throat, panting, “I thought you said you were going to take it easy today.” His cousin panted. 

Benjicot withdrew his sword, the pair laughing as he offered a hand to assist him to his feet after a moment, “I did.” He replied.

The two boys quietly chatted amongst themselves for a moment longer, laughter echoing across the yard. His cousin -- Emrys, a boy she had met once prior -- laughed as he walked away from their place in the training circle with a clap to his shoulder, shaking his head at whatever Benjicot muttered as he walked out of sight and into the castle floor beneath her. Serra, however, lingered; watching Benjicot now, who was seemingly unaware of her presence, go to the grass to pick up his doublet and a spare sword that sat beneath it. His back had been turned to her as he wiped off the swords of dust, his gaze cast out on the field that was slowly being engulfed by dusk for a minute.

She began to recede from her spot after a few minutes more passed, hoping to turn and leave before he even had the chance to see her. However, she was unsuccessful in her feat as he turned around abruptly, eyes turning their attention up to the balcony she stood on and meeting her gaze as she flushed with embarrassment and remained frozen to the spot -- there was no hiding the fact that she had been watching him now, looking down at him. His mouth twitched, the lines in his face appearing for half a second, but gone just as quickly as though what she assumed was a scowl threatened to surface as he held her gaze. 

Instead, he bowed. 

“My lady.” He muttered, standing upright before striding back inside; her gaze stuck on the spot where he had been. 

She blinked, glancing behind her once, the fact dawning on her that in moments, he would be in her hallway and she would be face to face with him. She clenched her fists, embarrassed enough as is and red-faced, beginning to hurry back to her chambers; the sound of footsteps echoing from the staircase as she passed them. If the Gods were cruel, they would have had her run right into him, but if they had any mercy to spare her-- 

Her thought was interrupted, slamming her door behind her and pressing her back to it, wide-eyed as she stood there, struggling to hold her breath to be as quiet as possible. She listened carefully to the hallway, able to make out the sound of footsteps approaching her door. Surely, he had not come to confront her? She hadn’t done anything wrong. 

The footsteps slowed to a complete stop just beyond her door, halting there, just outside. She tensed up completely, eyes closing as she silently crept further into her room and away from the door, praying the floor would not give away her presence as she slowly walked towards the center of the room; hand over her mouth to silence her heavy breathing and glancing towards the door to see if she could make out any feet beneath the door. Though she could not see anyone, even as she bent over at the waist and strained her eyes, she could still sense their presence. 

The footsteps suddenly continued, walking past her doorway quickly and receding down the hallway until she could no longer hear them, free to breathe and finally relax. What in good God's name was he doing? Was he just hellbent on tormenting her, by stalking around the castle like that? Surely, this couldn’t be the same man her father thought had changed and grown out of his tactics of terrorizing her as a child. 

She continued backing up until her knees met the frame of the bed, her hand dropping away from her mouth and letting out a sigh as she sat down. 

—

Benjicot did not even wish to join the feast.

The thought made him feel sick, doing everything in his power to prolong his having to head down to the dinner hall that had been busy with servants finalizing decorating, and setting up before they began greeting guests — he could hear the chatter from his chamber, and if he looked outside, stuck his head out the window and turned his head just right, he could see them coming and going with supplies. On the other hand, he knew if he was too late, his father would sooner have his head on a spike — there seemed to be no winning for him these days. 

Rather than feed into the dread that sat heavy in the pit of his stomach like a ball of lead, he chose to busy himself with tasks that had value to them, tasks that would busy his mind — rather than twiddle his thumbs, he organized and skimmed through his old history textbooks; previously a stack on the floor in a corner of his chambers. Rather than chew his nails, he chose to seek out Emrys and train. But even that had not done much for him, coming face to face with one source of his anxiety — feeling her gaze watch his every move. He could feel his shoulders tense, realizing someone was watching him from somewhere behind, and coming to find the Tully girl on the balcony that overlooked the training ground; reeling back when he turned. The very sight of her caused the taste of bile to crawl up the back of his throat, anger bubbling up inside him that he was forced to push down, somewhere deep within him.

He could still hear his father’s voice, his hand at his neck and warning him whenever he saw her — and then that stupid look on her face when he had come out of the doors the night prior. Pitiful and sad. 

He hadn’t even realized he was doing it, coming to her door and stopping outside of it, unsure what possessed him to follow her there — he didn’t have anything to say to her. He didn’t need anything from her. Maybe he just wanted to look at her again. Benjicot could hear her footsteps from beyond the door, creeping further from him as he could presume she was trying to get as far away from the door. And just as quickly as he had slipped into a daze that found him at her door, he shook it off and stormed back to his room, fists balled at his sides and jaw clenched. 

His gaze was fixed on the ceiling of his room, the servants coming and going meanwhile, with their gazes down as they retrieved soaps and oils for the young heir before hurrying out as quickly as they rushed in without a word. The room soon fell into a silence as he sank into the tub, embracing its warmth that worked to ease the tension in his muscles with his arms laid out over the sides of the tub, and clutching the ledges with a white-knuckled grip — he should have found it relaxing…the silence and the warmth the water provided. But the past twenty-four hours had left him too on edge to think of anything more than the war, his father’s words…his soon-to-be-bride. His head turned, leaning against his right shoulder as his hand released the tub, watching his fingers flex, stretching out before clenching into a fist. 

Benjicot had never pictured himself to be much of a husband. As a boy, he understood the duty of it — of marriage and honor, the need for heirs to keep their house strong, their future line secure. That was the value of it, after all. Was security. Built through hundreds of years of alliances, marriage pacts, and children that would follow the path of their father and their father before him. Just as Benjicot’s father had done at the young age of ten and six. 

Benjicot did not remember much about his mother  — he did not even know who she was before all the grief and illness that kept her confined to her room, as his father had avoided the topic of her much throughout his childhood. After trying to ask about her time and time again after she passed when he was ten-and-one, Benjicot gave up. Of the very little he could manage to get out of his father, he knew that she had struggled in childbirth with him, that she had reached for him, brought him to her chest, and uttered her love for him. Benjicot resembled his mother in a lot of ways — he was a splitting image of his sweet mother but had taken his father’s hair color. She had been born a Lannister and married into the Blackwood’s, barely sixteen herself; well-spoken and confident. Benjicot knew his father loved her, even if he did not say it aloud. 

He could recall the pain in his eyes whenever he pressed the subject to know her better, dismissing him as a boy and ending the conversation at that. 

“She loved you.” Was all he could offer.

Benjicot had heard whispers, too. That there had been at least four stillborn and two miscarriages before him; wracking her with guilt and grief that left her bedridden for days on end. His father had spent weeks trying to coax her from her room, taking her meals to her. There had been one more stillborn after him and that had been it, the final straw. That was the only version Benjicot had come to know — the empty shell of a woman, who sat by her window, looking out over the pastures for hours at a time with empty, sunken in eyes, struggling just to eat the least amount of food she could. She was skin and bones, and Benjicot feared that if he had hugged her too tight, she might crumble in his arms. The sight of her that last year frightened him honestly. 

He shook off the thought, sinking further into the tub until the water lapped at his chin, knees bent up and out of the water to accommodate the short tub that was already a tight squeeze for him. If that grief and that pain and agony was part of “honor and duty”…Benjicot wanted no part of it. He had distanced himself from the subject of marriage after his mother’s funeral and had avoided any mention of it as best he could. The horror he felt when his father had gone behind his back and forced his hand was undoubtedly made even worse by the prospect of his bride. 

A girl who could barely look him in the eye, more fascinated by bugs and creatures than to have had the decency to introduce herself when they first met. He could recall her mother having to introduce her, bent at her side and reminding her daughter of propriety; only then did she quietly speak her name, covered in dirt. Benjicot could have forgiven it if she had taken to something like swordsmanship and training in battle like his aunt had — a skilled warrior with an arrow, but instead, she collected bugs.

Surely, she’d had a say in their match, as well. 

The very idea perplexed him that she would even choose him after everything. Benjicot had never been shy of making it known that he could not stand her as children. Even if they had both grown up and changed since he still could not see the reason behind it or what she had to benefit by choosing him. Benjicot Blackwood was a man who needed to understand and have an answer for everything.

Benjicot was not unaware that she had grown much since they had last seen each other. He also could not deny that she had taken a likeness to her mother’s beauty, having grown into her looks in womanhood — she could not have been short of her pick from potential suitors who would have given her the time of day, asking for her hand. She was by means not unlucky in looks. She had less interest in playing with bugs that crawled all over her these days, too. The very fact that he could not make sense of it frustrated him to no end; instead, thoughts of Serra Tully stirred a feeling in his belly, ones that spread across his chest that he could not quite place a finger on — a mix of fury and…something more. 

He sat up abruptly with a growl, water splashing around him and over the ledge of the tub; spilling over onto the wooden floors as he cupped some of the water between his hands and splashed it into his face. His hands carded through his hair, tugging at the roots as he let out a sigh that echoed off the walls of his chamber, slumping back against the tub — this seemed to be his only safe space, away from the suffocating reality of the expectations placed upon him, laying heavy on his shoulders. It was doing little to rid him of the thoughts that plagued his mind if even just for a moment.

He stilled, frozen and unmoving as a thought crossed his mind. His right hand, which had found its way back to the ledge of the tub, slid underneath the water, his hand slipping between his thighs and taking his cock into his grasp— confident he would have some time at least. He was desperate for some kind of distraction at this point, a last-ditch effort to soothe his mind as his hand moved with languid movements against himself, head hanging back against the headrest as his eyes closed and he started to relax for a moment; attempting to lose himself in the lewd act. His mouth dropped open with a sigh, the early flickers of arousal beginning to burn in his belly as his hand increased pace, chest rising with a heavy breath— 

“My lord.”

The door shot open with minimal warning, Alistair’s voice interrupting the silence as he entered the room, coming to an abrupt stop at the door. The sudden interruption caused Benjicot to shoot upright in the tub, hand leaving his crotch and gripping the tub once more to pull himself forward, hissing, “Fuck!” He shouted, heart pounding as he panted, a hand dragging over his face, “What? What is it?” He snapped hurriedly, humiliated.

Alistair stuttered for a moment, visibly flustered as Benjicot turned his head slightly to look at him; hair falling into his eyes that he quickly brushed back. He nodded, “My apologies, my lord, I--…” he said, pausing. “Your father and the Tully’s have already been seated in the great hall. As have your guests. Your father has asked for you.” 

Benjicot was still trying to bring down his heart rate when he nodded, waving him out dismissively, “Thank you.” He grumbled. 

Alistair nodded once more at the heir, gaze down as he turned and rushed from the room, allowing Benjicot to finally slump back again; face burning from the humiliation of their interaction. 

— 

The feast was loud and dragging on. 

Benjicot had arrived and been greeted by the familiar faces of the many other houses of the Riverlands, painfully aware they were not oblivious to and noted his lateness as punctuality had not a trait that he had ever been known for since he was a boy. He had become quite practiced at avoiding their gazes as he took his seat, not bringing any further attention to himself than was necessary -- or at least more than already was. It had been no secret that the feast was hosted on his behalf, specifically emphasized in the letters that had been dispatched by Raven two days prior, and he could have only assumed that everyone had some inkling of what had brought them together. Samwell Blackwood was not a man who cared for hosting events as grand as this occasion had turned out to be often unless it was of high importance, and it had been no secret that he intended to find a wife for his son. Even glancing around, Benjicot could have counted at least a half dozen of the Lords who were within arms reach who had offered their daughters hands since he was ten-and-six, his face buried in a chalice of wine and scanning the table. 

His father, although he had announced his arrival with feigned pride at the sight of the boy Lord, Benjicot could see the hint of a discontented frown from the opposite end of the table when he entered. He had remained silent, however, relieved but unsure if he preferred the silence over a scold, leaving him on edge the entire night. 

It didn’t help his nerves that the only chair that had been saved for him was nestled right in between his father and his betrothed at his right, with Elmo sitting across from him on his father’s left, Kermit across from Serra. He had balled his hands into fists at his side during the walk to his seat at the head of the table, bowing his head with a muttered greeting to the Tully father and son who offered pleasantries among the hum of conversation. Meanwhile, Serra’s eyes had remained down at the table, hands in her lap, demurely sitting beside him and only briefly catching his stare when he muttered a quiet greeting to her while pulling out his chair and sitting down. 

They remained otherwise silent, the quiet that had befallen them only broken by his father, spiraling into Elmo and Kermit making conversation by recalling stories of their childhood. Benjicot sat with his elbows on the table in front of him, hands clasped together while his chin rested on his knuckles, humming and letting out a chuckle sometimes in response to certain memories, his eyes otherwise scanning the table and the guests. He watched the way they became rowdier with more wine. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the clink of a cup, his father standing from the table. The table finally silenced for the first time in hours, eyes watching his father with anticipation as he held his chalice high. 

"Lords and ladies, esteemed friends and allies, it is with great pleasure and honor that I stand before you tonight. In the spirit of unity and the strengthening of bonds between our noble houses, I am delighted to announce the betrothal of my beloved son, Benjicot, to the gracious and noble, Serra, daughter of Lord Elmo of House Tully.” Samwell announced, his voice carrying to every corner of the room. He paused, looking down at the young couple who looked up at him, his gaze landing on his son and nodding to himself before he continued, “May their union bring prosperity, joy, and enduring friendship to our families. Let us raise our glasses in celebration of this auspicious occasion." He finally finished, looking back out at the table that erupted in applause and cheerful exclamations of agreement. 

Benjicot, however, sharply inhaled; fighting the urge to scowl as he looked into his nearly empty cup, hiding his stare as his father began to sit down. In the corner of his eye, he witnessed a guard come forward, Alistair standing over his shoulder when Ben’s eyes lifted briefly to look over and see him muttering something into his ear; witnessing the moment his father tensed up. 

“Excuse me, pardon-- I…” Samwell said, standing up again. 

The prying eyes of the room remained on Samwell as he nodded, the guard stepping back and towards the wall where he had planted himself. The Blackwood Lord slowly turned his attention back to the table that had fallen silent, awaiting his next words, his cool stare shifting around for a moment before his mouth opened once more, “My apologies for disturbing your supper once again,” He begrudgingly stated,  “It has been brought to my attention that…the Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen was murdered in his bed last night.” 

It was at that point that all hell broke loose, his words met with a gasp from somewhere at the table before the table erupted in men’s anger and uproar at the news. Meanwhile, Benjicot watched his father slowly sit back down in silence, the prior joy on his face now replaced by a stoic expression; visibly drawn back into his thoughts as Elmo spoke up, “Gods be good... Pray that he went quickly.” He quietly muttered, his hand tightening around his chalice as the chaos raged on in light of the news. 

“Yes…” Benjicot blurted, his gaze meeting Elmo’s from across the table, the latter of whom had gone for a drink from his cup; glancing between the young lord and his daughter who was visibly shaken by the news, her hands now clenched on the table. Benjicot could make out in the corner of his eye as she looked over at him, turning his head just enough and looking down at her left hand that was closest to him. He released his cup, setting it down against the table, and reached across to lay his hand over hers as if to comfort her though he could feel her stiffen. He disregarded her reaction and turned back to her father, “Pray that his suffering has ended.”

Benjicot watched as her father stared at their hands, glancing again between them before he visibly relaxed at the sight and nodded in response to his words. He wasn’t certain his eyes were playing tricks on him, but he saw the small hint of a smile on Elmo’s face, thrown in the direction of his daughter that was brief before he looked away.  Serra’s hand quickly withdrew to drop into her lap, her gaze bearing into the side of his face as he lifted his chalice then with the now free hand and took a drink -- he only meant to gauge her reaction, get some hint of his prior question on her motive. He let out a ‘hm’ into his cup, his eyes casting left and meeting hers, his eyebrows shooting up. She looked down. 

He had an answer he could work with at least.

TAGLIST: @tannyfairy @username199945, @cxcilla, @thethiccestdaddy, @deltamoon666, @drwho-ess, @callsigncrushx , @clarityisnofun @jhepolie, @juhdoche @majoso12 @roseheart5 , @nixtape-foryou , @poppyflower-22 @accidentpronedork

[volvolts]

tell me about one of your new story projects, please? :)

ah im so sorry it took me awhile cuz i really wanted to draw more stuff on it thank you for letting me ramble <3 you've been warned

basically my recent project is im kinda sorta stealing my kynseed ocs for it and also One Guy but that One Guy is so different that if i didn't say anything im pretty sure that no one wouldve known lol

its a story about one man who gets saved by a mysterious deer who turned out to be a fae in disguise and grants this man very potent plant magic and everything that happens after

(his name is oscar btw but he goes by Oz) more talking and also pictures and rambling under the read more

oz has spent his whole life being affected by the fae. they dont mean any harm but some of the more animal like fae get kinda aggressive sometimes so oz has had a lot of close calls in his life! seeing this deer and finding out it was a fae was probably something he was going to see one day but to be granted powers for protecting it (and nearly dying as a result) was not what he was expecting

thing is oz doesnt want these powers! it's difficult for him to control and he didn't even ask for it (because the fae are supposed to ask him what he wants right? and how is that equivalent to his deed?) plus his powers are much stronger than any human could ever dream of. plant magic is already one of the hardest magic for a human to learn but not even experts can achieve what oz can now do accidentally. it feels like overkill for simply taking an arrow to the stomach for an odd doe. that and it now feels like they expect oz to owe them now for this power, which unsettles him if that is the case

also theres another guy, jonah

(sorry for the big ref its all i got)

jonah is known has a sentinel, children blessed by very powerful fae at birth with golden eyes, long lives, among other traits. sentinels are always born as fraternal twins; one boy and one girl. at 18 theyre expected to help humans and fae get along. jonah's sister didn't want to do that and she left while jonah fulfilled his role. he's considered one of the best sentinels in history, known as the Dove for being a peacekeeper.

jonah nearly dies trying to fight a monster that threatens all life and his patron fae puts him in a magic coma in their last ditch effort to keep him alive. he's been slumbering inside a tree for about six(6) years before

until oz accidentally wakes him up with his powers

jonah is a bit premature but he's mostly recovered so it's not too bad, however he's not at his peak health yet. while jonah is still trying to figure out the whole monster problem, oz wonders if he can have jonah find the fae that gave him his powers and negotiate for something else, which jonah thinks is stupid

theres a lot more (like jonah's sister and a few others) but its already long and maybe when i have more drawings i can try to ramble more

anyway thank you for anyone who read this at all and honestly i would love feedback or even just questions about this story!

[commandervisor]

Since you're just about to start vol 7, is there any theories you have going forward? Is there something you really want to see happend? Have you been spoiled for anything?

Putting this under a “Read More” because this is just one thing after another… 

Theories? In hindsight after writing all of this, most of it is not the main cast because I guess at the moment, they’re rather well-adjusted and/or recovering from their issues rather well lol, so I can’t make big enough guesses on them right now.

Emerald and maybe Mercury GTFO there, I think being stuck in Salem’s castle with Hazel until whatever goes down in Atlas I guess will 

Emerald becomes a Maiden, my guesses are:

A “redeemed” Cinder thinks of Emerald in her last moments, but it’s kept vague if she was thinking of her because she actually cared about her or because of something completely unrelated to that (ex. “Emerald better have-*gets killed midsentence*”).

Otherwise, Cinder finds out Emerald is now a Maiden and turns against her. Now Emerald has to deal with her mother figure, the woman who saved her life, wanting her dead.

Either way, I think this could lead to her redemption.

Mercury is pretty hard to read, especially after what he said in V6 about why he acts the way he does and how he feels about his relationship with Cinder and Emerald. Tyrian summed him up as just putting up a tough exterior because he doesn’t know anything else, so if something like Emerald going rogue happens, then it’ll be interesting to see how long he’ll keep those barriers up against Emerald.

Cinder “redemption” arc. I don’t know how, but it would constitute showing her backstory (because that infatuation for power and not wanting to be powerless has to come from something, and she’s based on Cinderella, so.). V6 already had Salem basically kicking her out of the house for disobeying her (albeit she’s apparently still keeping an eye on her…), so Cinder left to her own devices could end up doing a lot more loose cannon-y things outside of trying to get revenge on Ruby and this eventually leads into her becoming an anti-villain and something of an anti-hero?

Pyrrha’s and maybe Amber’s souls are actually connected to Cinder, kind of like with Ozpin and Oscar, because 1) Maiden mechanics? and 2) It seems strange to me that back in V3 when they hooked up Pyrrha to Amber in that aura transfer machine, they made a big deal out of how Pyrrha “might not be the same” if the transfer works but then she died anyways so that part seemingly didn’t matter outside of brief angst? At the moment, I don’t know where this would go other than Pyrrha and Amber kind of haunting Cinder like ghosts, maybe this could lead to her “redemption”?

After what happened with Vernal, I don’t know what to make of Winter Schnee and Summer Rose as possible Maidens, but it seems relevant? We’ll just have to wait and see.

Likewise, I don’t really know where Hazel’s arc may go, either they’ll keep him as someone who refuses to move forward and ends up dying a bitter, meaningless life, or he’ll finally realize that and maybe help the heroes against Salem and/or Em & Merc leave Salem (I think him trying to take the blame for Cinder’s failure in V6 was foreshadowing), probably at the cost of his life because I can’t imagine him turning against Salem and managing to walk away alive.

Weiss tearing Jacques a new one, because we got Yang doing that to Raven in V5 and Blake (and Yang) doing it to Adam in V6 too, so I think we’ll continue to see cycles of abuse, hate, spite, and so on get broken from this point on.

And also take Whitley and GTFO there too, it’d be neat to see him unlearn his behavior from being under Jacques this whole time and I guess “redeem” himself… I have no idea who should take him in but he could stay with Maria if she and the group are parting ways in Atlas, it probably wouldn’t be safe for him to tag along with RRAYNBBOW (or however they’re called now lol). I pretty much envision this as what Eh**z said about Azulademption if it had happened in ATLA (”I’m happy.” “Yes, we know you are, Whitley.”).

Tai fighting, because they’ve established him as being retired while Raven and Qrow are still in action, so I think we might see him fight at some point as things come to a head.

Because RWBY is a good show that knows how to properly “subvert expectations”, it is to be expected that a lot of questions and mysteries will get answered (ex. Almost everything about Summer, Raven/The Spring Maiden subplot to come back, probably if a Maiden killing another Maiden actually boosts their power or not, whatever they have to do to teach Salem her lesson, etc.), and there are a lot of endgames they’re likely building up to (ex. Salem is defeated, Oz and Salem reunite and reconcile in the afterlife, Oscar is the last Oz reincarnation because Oz’s quest finally gets a happy ending, the Gods leave Remnant alone, maybe the Grimm disappear from Remnant, etc.).

Things I want to see happen (outside of ships because I think y’all know already lol):

I think this is a victim of the show trying to find its footing early on, which does happen, but I think it would be/have been neat if we got to see Ruby’s friends from Signal at some point (I’m guessing this might be prime self-insert OC material) or at least get a glimpse of the “elementary”/”primary” Huntsmen academies, if only because I like worldbuilding/lore and Chekhov’s guns/foreshadowing :P. Though I doubt this will happen since the show is moving in a really different direction from the school setting it had back in V1-V3, which is fine.

Jacques joining Adam in clown hell

STRQ flashbacks, and maybe a TRQ reunion? Again, I can see this as something happening as things come to a head, especially since this would require Raven to kind of turncoat back to the good guys.

EDIT: I would also like to see Goodwitch come back, but I guess that might be a while since we’re focusing on Atlas at the moment and then presumably Vacuo?

Watts shaving his dumb moostash

More anime voice actors, because OH WOW IT’S AMAZING HOW THE ACTING INDUSTRY WORKS, HUH VI? 

I think that’s all I can think of for now… Anything else I usually wonder about is something I bring up in my liveblogs? I think??

Have I been spoiled for anything? Yeah, I guess, but it was because of people rb’ing RWBY on my dash/TL/whatever before I started watching the show, so I didn’t have context and I didn’t think much of any of it beyond that they looked neat. That, plus me having the memory of a goldfish about all of that probably helped… For example, ask me about Homestuck, The Adventure Zone, Critical Role, The Arcana, etc. because I see those on my dash a lot, but I have no idea what they’re about other than maybe some general info and a couple of character names.

That being said, I knew/know about some characters that hadn’t/haven’t shown up yet because that’s pretty hard to avoid (at the beginning, I only really knew RWBYJNPR, Sun, Penny, and also Ozpin, Qrow, and Summer but pretty much in name only; back when V7 started, I did notice a lot of popularity with certain characters from that volume), and some things I did know like someone being able to turn into a bird (when the Faunus lore got introduced, I thought this was going to be a Faunus power lol*), Blake was or was not a cat-person, Summer being gone, Bumbleby being the ship, and maybe more that I can’t remember at the moment.

* …“What I expected vs. What I got: RWBY Edition” is probably something that warrants its own post. Hmm…

It’s 3 AM and this is a huge garbled mess, but as you might guess, I’m really invested in RWBY right now and it’s fun wondering where they’ll take the story next. This is quality.

[nehslebasi]

2016, in pictures and text

This is going to be a very long post. A very very long post. A very very very long post. 

I’m thankful this year happened. All the tears, laughs, travels, anxiety, everything. Hoping 2016 will shape me (positively) into who I’m meant to become in the future - 2017 and beyond.

January 2016

I honestly don’t remember anything I did this month lol. I was still consistently running. Outings with Crew. Outings with my (then) 8th grade girls. Visited Lighthouse in Torrance. All I have are good, if not neutral, feelings of this month.

February 2016

Let’s just say it turned out to be the worst month of this year, and I’ll never stop missing her and wondering how different this year would have been if she were still here. So what do you do? Drink it away with your friends on Valentine’s. Go to the beach. Play board games. Go to Zinc cafe and drink Blue Bottle. Pretend you’re fine until you’re fine.

March 2016

Clara’s birthday at Bestia, where we ran into one of our Sunday school kids, asked if we wanted to take shots through lamb bone marrow lol. The setting sun and deepening pink sky behind the LA skyline as we coasted by on the freeway. Driving down to Playa Del Rey and squeezing through their narrow lanes to an ADX alumni reunion by the beach. Jack Garratt concert with Jacky, losing myself in sound. A day of exhilaration and pressuring my friends to ride roller coasters at Knott’s, and pretty much failing at that haha. 

April 2016

Coffee dates/study parties at Arts District. OC sushi and sake, where our waiter gave us complimentary sake and ice cream! Weekly Sunday lunches in Pasadena, always wearing a summery dress, always getting acai bowls. Multiple beach trips. Brunch at Perch with APR. Noah Gundersen at Hotel Cafe, where he answered a question I asked! Visited my sister’s work at Scripps even though I was dead-ass sick. And probably the #1 favorite concert I’ve ever been to, FOREVER, so much that I’m going to find them again every time they’re near me. Hullo Shadowboxers, hullo Hotel Cafe.

May 2016

Ran a half-marathon! (And couldn’t walk for days afterward) Turned 23. Treated to brunch at Republique and gifted a beautiful stick-figure drawing of us. Took a million jumping pictures by a fabric warehouse. Caught strep throat and a disgusting case of conjunctivitis. Election anxiety kicking in. Started taking this “applying to PA school” thing seriously. 

June 2016

Took a break from running (read: got lazy). Upset that the Cavaliers won. In the library or coffee shop every weekend to work on PA school apps and write my personal statement. (Shout out to Bean Town, Nest Teahouse). A Koreatown night market, lots of smoke, lots of food, lots of red lipstick. Drove to San Diego for a large-scale sleepover/reunion (and screenshotted the pictures lol)! Oscar’s fish tacos, a rooftop bar, a Werewolf bar, more ramen and pork belly than we could stomach... 

July 2017

One of my favorite, if not most stressful, months of 2016. Submitted my completed grad school application. Sushi and drinks with Angie in Pasadena. Sparklers and pyro activities at Jacky’s on the fourth. Roller-bladed by the sea with Bri from Santa Monica down to Venice, drank our way into a happy sunset buzz at a rooftop bar by the Pier, and rode the warm smooth buzz all the way back to USC on the Expo Line. Watched HP 1 with a live orchestra playing the score at the Hollywood Bowl. Ice cream and boy-stories in South Pas. Viv’s birthday right in our home turf. Started volunteering at my city’s hospital ER. Relient K released a new album. Started going to community group with Reality LA. Discussing political issues every Sunday with my friends, because I’m surrounding by men and women who care about them. Such a wonderful month :)

August 2016

Pizza and catch-ups at Old Town Pas, spilling about relationships with old friends. Exploring Santa Monica and walking for miles with the Crew in a looooong scavenger hunt that we have yet to complete! Frank Ocean drops his albums and changes my life, again. Oliver Sacks dies and I’m heartbroken. Drove through the winding Palos Verdes for a friend’s birthday. Crush on every young Murse. A wedding in San Diego, feeling regal in a borrowed navy dress and tall heels, a little too much to drink, as per usual haha.

September 2016

Crashed summer retreat at UCSD, ate too many tacos, more Tacos El Gordo, ate too much pho, just too much of everything in general lol. Crossed that rickety bridge. Binge watch Atlanta and Stranger Things. Start prepping for PA school interviews. Fly to New York for an interview at Cornell. Drag my little blue suitcase everywhere with me. It’s pouring rain the first day. Meet with Yenmin to eat Halal Guys, and Jaimie for udon and gelato. Navigating the city at night and running to catch the trains and buses. A couple nights in Jaimie’s beautiful apartment in Manhattan five stories up from the sidewalk, a brisk morning in my mom’s borrowed heels, a vegetable cream cheese bagel and coffee, a stressful interview at an ivy league, bleeding raw feet the whole day till I just had to give up and take them off. Walk through Central Park, the Met, coffee shops wearing Walgreens roll-up flats and business formal for 15+ miles till I can feel my feet bruising and my hair frizzing. Pizza and drinks with Jackie and Joyce in Soho. Little Italy’s night market. Frank Ocean, and a NY Times to and fro from NY--a beautiful city I won’t forget. JR JR/Saint Motel concert with Jess the night I land back in LA. Watched an ER patient get lungs drained, car dies in the hospital parking lot at midnight. Oh Wonder, Kevin Garrett concert with Feebs. Another memorable month :)

October 2016

Lightbulb/Third wheel dates with Clara and Justin begin (ok, unofficially in September, but officially in October)! Get a hit list of things to do in Chicago from ER guy. Fly to Chicago for an interview at Northwestern. Get picked up by Angie and drive toward her apartment in the city, become captivated by the skyline and sky. Eat my first Chicago dog. Absolutely enthralled by her cat Wrigley (and am now a cat person as a result). Venture out to Navy Pier and get caught in the pouring, storming rain. Deep dish at Giordano’s. Coffee and croissant before the interview, become attached to the program, would do ANYTHING to be accepted. Tacos at Del Seoul, some rain, Big Hero Six in pajamas as the wind blows and sun sets. Traverse through The Loop, see the Bean, the river, eat brunch/pancakes/everything, inspired by the running people preparing for the Chicago Marathon, in awe at the peace and clean grandeur of this place. It was difficult to leave. Cried after the second presidential debate because I couldn’t believe what my family was saying. Chop off my hair. Fly to Boston for an interview at MCPHS, immediately struck by the cold and beauty of this old city (and how much I suck at navigating its public transport system). Wrapped up with happiness and love while staying with my big. Walking by the Charles to the trains in the rain, a huge Bartleby’s burger and milkshake, a bookstore by Harvard U. A cloudy morning at a coffee shop with a bomb playlist and apple turnover and chai. Most amiable interview. Museum of Fine Arts, fresh seafood, another bookstore with a cafe in the middle, a long walk back home :). Coffee, the Library, Boston Commons and Boston public Gardens, a cemetery where many founders were buried, Flour bakery (nerded out about Joanne Chang), Quincy Market, Warren Anatomical Museum, JFK Library. I am in love with this city, it was also difficult to leave (plus Logan Airport had the nicest staff). And on the 31st, Hallelujah Night in a onesie.

November 2016

My friend Lynette gets engaged! We’re there to surprise her in the parking lot of the Huntington Gardens, and plan her engagement party. 11/8, the most wonderful and horrible day. I get the call that I was accepted to the school of my dreams. America elects a fool. Fly to New Jersey while listening to The Shins and watching the changing leaves through the airplane window. Stay with a gracious family during the interview at Rutgers and catch up with an old friend over Halal Guys. Kill time by reading Profiles in Courage. Realize that at this point, I’m a little burnt out with interviewing and flying back and forth across the country. Watch USC win the USC-UCLA game! Make my friends watch Stranger Things. Thanksgiving at Vincent’s. Relient K and Switchfoot concert of my DREAMS with drinks and fries before and during. Binge watch Gilmore Girls reboot and argue about who’s better: Jess or what’s-his-name, and how awful Rory and Lorelai are and how awful this reboot was!!

December 2016

Second Shadowboxer’s concert, which becomes my 2nd favorite concert ever, after my 1st favorite, which was also a Shadowboxers concert (I’m obsessed with them can you tell). Coworker shows me how to put on falsies. Dinner and stomachaches and being babysat in Old Town. The Paper Kites with Viv, and way too much food from friendly restaurant staff, and hand-banging fans who scream and clearly love The Paper Kites lol. Once more the Duke of Mediterranean Cafe. Last day volunteering. Jon’s Bday in Pas. A day in Little Tokyo and Arts District with Hannah. Vivian’s first sleepover. La La Land on Christmas Eve, dumplings on Christmas, no day off. Catch up drinks with gov kids. Administer my first Rocephin injection via dorsogluteal IM. Lots of visitors, including Yenmin and Jacky. Spend New Years Eve at Urgent Care, popping meds, and rereading A Swiftly Tilting Planet. :)

And that’s a wrap! This was supposed to be reflective and not a catalog of stuff... but welp that’s what it turned out to be. I’m grateful for surviving another year with inspiring and supportive people and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. Thank you thank you thank you, because you guys make life more interesting and beautiful. :)

Favorite Books: The Wind-up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami, The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro, Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout, Profiles in Courage by JFK

Here’s to a brighter 2017.