#constantly lurking in the corner at parties (canonically)

[dwellordream]

thoughts on HOTD, episode 4, season 2 (spoilers below)

enjoying the continued focus on daemon's dream states. i like that the show is not afraid to focus on the underlying darkness of the daemon/rhaenyra relationship, and that it even names his actions as predatory. not because i need the show to moralize to me about it, but because it makes daemon a more nuanced character for him to have subconscious guilt and self-loathing over his relationship- he realizes he did take advantage of rhaenyra's naivety and idolization of him, and while he doesn't regret it, he does fear that part of him loved rhaenyra *the most* when she was young and easily idealized as the charming, impulsive princess, not a wife and mother with real world worries and mistrust of his intentions.

aemond stunting on aegon by flaunting that cole trusts him more, and that he has superior knowledge of valyrian- thus implying he is the more 'fit' heir, was pretty well done. that said, i think the rook's rest plan is dumb in canon and dumb here. hoping to corner rhaenys (or any dragon rider) specifically at a castle surrounded by open air and the sea just seems silly. i acknowledge that the writers could likely only change the circumstances of the ambush so much, it just irks me.

all the harrenhal scenes in this episode are fantastic. the sheer atmosphere and the spectacular set design go a long way to contributing to the gothic thrills. i wish the show could always be this openly fantastical. and gayle rankin's alys is excellent- i love her slightly nasal accent, her kirtle, her long hair- just everything about her. an actress with less charisma could not sell her blatant manipulative attitude or the snippets of dry humor. i'm excited to see her and aemond in a scene together.

i'm curious to see how long alicent's apathy and nihilism lasts. a lot of people have compared her to GoT's cersei in this episode, and i can see it, although i don't think cersei was ever quite so blasé about her son's reign. i suspect we may see her 'snap out of it' when she is confronted with the extent of aegon's wounds, though i hope she doesn't revert straight back to self loathing and blaming herself for it.

jace's reaction to rhaenyra's return is essentially that of an exasperated father confronting his teenaged daughter after she returns from a party at 2 am. i do think it is silly that rhaenyra confesses to her council that she made a last ditch effort for peace- it makes her look impulsive and naive in front of them. i think the writers are attempting to show that yes, it was foolhardy and that jace is right to be horrified, but i did laugh out loud when rhaenyra admits that she, just now, has decided to fully commit to the war.

the show's reliance on the prophecy of ice and fire is stupid- but i do like the idea of House Targaryen having a narrative they constantly reinforce to themselves whenever they need a justification for their actions. i'm not railing against rhaenyra using this as an excuse at this point- i just wish the show leaned less on this 'chosen one' narrative.

the scene of Vhagar lurking in the woods was some fantastic framing- very Jurassic Park, and the initial entry of Vhagar into the dragon duel is very well done. the entire fight scene, i thought, was fantastically choreographed- it truly was like a dance between first Meleys and Sunfyre, then Meleys and Vhagar. a lot of people were furious that the show depicts Aemond deliberately waiting to enter the battle when he realizes Aegon has shown up unexpectedly, and then having Aemond choose to attack while Meleys and Sunfyre are interlocked- but Aemond attacking without concern for Sunfyre and Aegon is what happened in Fire & Blood.

additionally, while some people have claimed that Rhaenys had 'ample time to flee' from the battle, the scene makes it clear that Meleys was badly injured, even before Vhagar gets her jaws around Meleys' neck. Rhaenys was either going to be hunted down and caught by Vhagar, or turn back and go out fighting, and that's what she chose to do.

overall, i'd say this episode was a solid 8.5/10. the last 20 minutes were amazing, especially the evocative 'dance' of the battle, and the harrenhal scenes were great as well.

[sxveme-2]

Holy Ground // Benedict Bridgerton

MASTERLIST

DESCRIPTION: "𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑜𝓇𝓃𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒷𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎, 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑜𝓇𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓊𝓃."

That's the motto, is it not? The second-born child in a family is set to live life unencumbered by the responsibilities. Parties, vices, lust. That was the life they were supposed to live, never dreading what lurked around the corner or when they'd have to wed. It was supposed to be fun, to be a second child-free of burdens and debts.

Perhaps for men, that is the reality.

It is for Benedict Bridgerton. The second-born son and child in the esteemed Bridgerton family. Benedict was free to play into the parable of second-born sons, and he was happy to do so. No one would fault him for pursuing art and divulging in lustful encounters in smoke-filled rooms, wine flowing with various hallucinogens plaguing the bitter spirits.

For Lady Dorothea Dowding, it was quite the opposite. She had to fight tooth and nail to live the life she pleased. Along with that fight came a bargain, one struck in desperation and fervour. An artist herself, Lady Dowding longed to spend time among the greats in Florence. She was granted this wish as long as when she returned; she would enter society and marry who her parents imposed upon her.

Friends since birth, Benedict and Dorothea, were similar. Both sprouted from esteemed families with an eye for the arts. Only when they came of age did the two grow separate and apart. They became the very things one swore never to be, and one both longed to be. So when the two finally reconnect after years apart, growing into new beasts, what could transpire?

With Dorothea set to marry and Benedict realizing where he caused error, delve into the story of the two nobility and watch as they navigate all that was unsaid and what never should have been.

DISCLAIMER: My works are only published here on Wattpad, Tumblr and AO3; thank you!I do not own any original characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Julia Quinn.This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else.This work handles mature things such as nudity, sexual content, emotional distress and trauma. Do not read if you are not comfortable with these. I am not responsible for your media consumption and what you choose to read.

STATUS: Unedited

Chapter V

Warnings: Mention substances

Word Count: 2916

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It appears my appraisals about Lady Dorothea Dowding were proper! The Lady has taken the Ton by storm this season, having the Queen name her the Diamond at the first ball! Oh, I’m positive her parents are thrilled with the success of their elusive second-born child. Lady Dorothea will undoubtedly feel the pressure now that she has made such an entrance. She was even seen dancing with one of the Ton’s newest bachelors–the Prince of Spain! Alongside that, Lady Dorothea was spotted dancing with the newly appointed Viscount Khatri, and even Lord Colin Bridgerton was spotted conversing with the Lady!

This writer will have a lot on her plate this season, seeing as it appears the declaration of this season’s Diamond struck a nerve with one Benedict Bridgerton. One can only assume it has to do with the rumoured childhood love that the two shared. After all, the Dowding and Bridgerton families have been as thick as thieves for generations. Perhaps there’s more to the story…

Dorothea suspired, settling the leaflet onto the table in front of her. This Lady Whistledown had her nose pushed deep into Dorothea’s life, and it was frankly getting on the girl’s last nerve. If it weren’t bad enough, the entire Ton was watching her like a hawk; she was constantly worried about this gossip, hearing false rumours down a grapevine and corroding Dorothea’s reputation. She couldn’t even let out a breath around the staff in her own home, worrying that one of them was this acclaimed gossip or somehow convening with the woman. Dorothea knew that this season would be taxing; she just never once expected it would be this frivolously broadcasted. There were things in the Lady’s past she needed to stay buried deep under the lakes, somewhere not even she could get.

Dorothea yearned for the days she could race free in the grassy lands of her family’s second home, down in Ashbury, or even through the woodland of their summer estate. So many aspects of the girl’s past had tumbled through her fingers without her even knowing, pouring into the rivers around the Ton and being swept far from her reach. Her secrets were buried deep in a chest underneath the brilliant sapphire waters of her history, locked by a key only one soul knew of. Even so, that person was buried deep in that same box, never to be opened again–she couldn’t.

“Sister?” Alexander questioned as he lowered his silverware, “Are you quite well?”

“Hm?” Dorothea mused, lifting her eyes to her brother, “Oh, yes, I’m well…I’m thinking of promenading with Miss. Alice Giles today, of the Giles family. I met her at the ball the other night. Her brother’s married, but, well, he definitely has some prospects.”

“Unfortunately, I must say no for today,” Alexander shook his head, achieving a huff of defeat from his sister, “Father and I have set up to take callers today, seeing as we already postponed it for two days since you–”

“I was ill.”

“You were apprehensive,” Alexander contested, setting his cup of tea down, “Do not fret, sister. It is only natural for a woman to become devastated by emotions–”

“I beg your–!”

“–after being awarded such an esteemed title!” Alexander continued, his voice matching the level of his sisters, “Have we not spoken on your outbursts? Do you expect me to put you back into lessons like a child, Dorothea?”

“I am not a child, and yet you insist on still speaking to me like one,” Dorothea hissed, pitching her napkin onto the table, “I am aware of how you regard my sex, brother. I am also well aware of the proceedings during one’s own season. An austere, ‘No, Dorothea, we’re taking callers today’ would have sufficed! Do not speak to me as though I am Lady Marjorie. Unlike your wife, I have a mind of my own.”

“It is very unladylike of you to speak in such a way–”

“For God’s sake.”

Dorothea lunged back from the table and made a rash withdrawal from the dining room. As much as the Lady did treasure her family, it was junctures like this where she wished she were born into a separate one or just an alien life. Given most citizens’ circumstances, she knew it was arrogant and selfish of hers–but her sentiments ran unchecked at moments like these. She wished her brother was unlike how he was, that he was more like Julian–a naive boy who just wanted Dorothea to be happy. Instead, he was an acting father that regarded himself as incomparable to the one person in the Dowding family that possessed their narrative.

She missed Florence, the architecture, the people, and the experiences she had. Everything in that place suited Dorothea to perfection, like a dress that needn’t be altered. She had never felt as much bliss as she did roaming the streets of Florence with her art tools tucked into her arm, deciding to trek to her lessons versus take the carriage. The food was delectable, and everyone there had stories she’d never be able to recount to perfection. Everything about Florence was directly from the dreams of Thea, and she wanted to return to that life. She wanted to be away from the Ton, the balls, the suitors, and the whole deal she had made with her parents.

But, Dorothea was a woman of her word. She had struck a bargain with her parents to marry whoever her brother and father deemed fit–and that was what she would do.

—

“My brother advises me you’re a profound writer, Sir Hendrickson. What sort of chronicles do you write of?”

“You travelled abroad, Lord Jericks? Where did you venture?”

“Oh, Sir Waters, you’re too kind!”

“Seven children? You have quite the ambition, Lord Turnolling.”

“A spring wedding? That sounds lovely, Sir Renders.”

Dorothea instigated, compelled, pried, and did nearly everything she had to–yet her brother and father seemed far from satisfied. Every prospect entering the Dowding drawing-room was promptly escorted out, none meeting these unknown requirements of the two eldest Dowding men. By the end of it, Dorothea was slipped into the corner of the scarlet-red couch with her cheeks flushed, chest heaving. It was utterly exhausting speaking with such boring men. Yet every one of them had what she thought her brother and father wanted–esteem, wealth, influence. Every man that came in was exactly what both Alexanders had told Dorothea to look for, yet none of them satisfied their desires.

Truth be told, Dorothea was relieved when most of them were instructed to leave. Many of them would cause her nothing but despair in the future if she made it to the nuptial stage of this arrangement. She wondered if perhaps, like, the Duke and Alexander were awaiting the entrance of the Prince of Spain or Viscount Khatri–even Colin Bridgerton, at that. Someone that she was knowledgeable of and did enjoy speaking to. But to no avail, none of the three suitors that Dorothea preferred came through those doors. Instead, the line to talk to her grew longer with men she had zero interest in speaking to.

“Do I want to know why I just had a man who appeared as though he is halfway into his casket refer to me as a ‘scamp?’” Julian Dowding jested as he propelled into the drawing-room, “Did I miss all of the fun ones?”

“Lessons completed for the day, I take it, Julian?” The Duke soughed as he poured himself another cup of tea, gazing out the room’s window, “Or will I be getting another miserable talking from your Governess?”

“Depends on what you mean by a miserable talking to, Father,” Julian quipped as he seized a seat beside Dorothea, “You look flushed, sister.”

“You’ve always been one for keen observations, Julian,” Dorothea thundered as she straightened her posture. She slid closer to her younger brother and lowered her voice, praying her brother and father weren’t listening, “What took you so long to get here?”

“Mother decided she wished to watch my lessons today,” Julian replied, his voice nothing above a muttering as he obscured his lips behind a teacup before taking a sip, “Undoubtedly because she knew I would endeavour to rescue you from here.”

“How’d you escape?”

“Everyone ought to take a lavatory recess once in a while, dearest Thea.”

Dorothea rolled her eyes before lounging back against the seat, “Send in the next one, Alexander. Let’s get this over with.”

Dorothea favoured drowning to gasping for air in a desert, scouring for the tiniest speck of water to quench her thirst. She scrounged through sand, digging for an unobtainable prize she had concealed within the dunes. That drowning sensation kept her alive, all the while suffocating her and pulling her towards that covert chest. The sense of the water chafing at her skin and drilling into her mind, searching for anything that could reignite the blaze and take her to the surface.

Perhaps, the more she toiled to breathe, the more consolation she’d find in anything she encountered. It didn’t have to be water; it could be wine, spirits, champagne–anything. Dorothea would be keen to settle for the slightest scrap of comfort if it meant she no longer searched for a vanished treasure, a sapphire hidden within the unknown world. That gem secured in a drawer she had no access to, no key, no hints as to where it may be. She wondered if it was empty now and that all Dorothea was doing was wearing herself thin for a vacant treasure.

“I present Viscount Khatri.”

Dorothea’s head snapped upwards from her trance at the newest addition to the room around her. He stood silent at the door’s threshold, dressed in wine-purple colouring with a contrasting bouquet of azalea flowers in his hand–her family’s signature flowers. She appreciated the gesture but had secretly hoped he remembered that her favourites were Forget-Me-Nots. Dorothea felt a blush creep onto her cheeks at the uncomfortable way the Viscount stood, as though he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with his hands or any of his limbs. No one spoke, waiting for the man to assert himself.

“Oh, right, yes,” the man fumbled, rushing forward and presenting the flowers to Dorothea, “For you, Lady Dorothea–a symbol of my respect for your name. As well as a signifier of your beauty, as I believe the azalea’s to be some of the most tasteful flowers.”

“Oh my…” Julian mumbled, concealing his mouth with his teacup once more as Dorothea sent the boy a glare before taking to her feet.

“They are beautiful, my Lord,” Dorothea beamed, dipping her head in thanks, “I will be sure to put these on display in my home.”

“Lord Khatri,” Alexander interrupted, slipping from his seat beside the Duke to where his sister and the Viscount stood, “I hear you fit in quite well as the new head of your household. How is your mother?”

“She is well, a tad melancholy, but I cannot blame her–my father was her life, and with him gone, it is only my youngest sister left and I.”

“Ah yes, your sister.”

Dorothea felt the air grow tense as Alexander stared at the Viscount. Alexander Dowding was as traditional a man as they come, but he was tolerant. He had warped perceptions of womanhood, but also knew that some things just so happen to be out of the control of humanity. The ailments that plagued the females within the Khatri family were undoubtedly something that crossed the future Dukes mind as he considered the Viscount that stood in the drawing-room, who appeared to be a bird in a cage.

Tanmay Khatri was one of the kindest souls that Dorothea had ever met, yet matched the wit of some of the most robust scholars. He was intelligent, if not a tad socially awkward and a bit out-of-touch. But, Dorothea found that part of him captivating. She could see herself falling in love with him, or at least teaching herself to. It was no secret that she had a type–an awkward man with an unfortunate knack for saying the wrong thing.

“I must say, I am quite pleased to have shown up when I did.”

“Why is that, my Lord?” Dorothea questioned.

“Well, with Benedict Bridgerton in the line out there–I worried I may have lost my chance.”

“I beg your pardon?” Alexander questioned, eyebrows creased.

“...Did I say something wrong?”

“Alexander–” Dorothea cautioned as she strolled around the Viscount, “Not now.”

“Dorothea–” Her father interjected, earning a glance from the girl, “Dorothea…Do not go speak with him…We will permit him in.”

“Father!” Alexander exclaimed, pivoting towards the Duke, “Have I not expressed to you why it is that man cannot–”

“Enough out of you,” the Duke warned, “Viscount Khatri, I apologize for this. Please, join us by the lake tomorrow for tea; we can discuss your affairs more then.”

“I will graciously accept your offer, your Grace–I will take my leave.”

—

A man dressed in gray, one dressed in yellow and gold. Those were the only men in between Dorothea and Benedict now. One dressed like the exterior of a spirit bottle–smelled like one too–while the other dripped opulence. But truthfully, Dorothea could not focus on what either of them said. She knew what came next and was beyond nervous about the encounter that was undoubtedly about to occur. As far as Dorothea knew, Benedict hadn’t spoken with the Duke nor her elder brother in quite some time. The last conversation the two of them had was during the dinner that Bridgertons graciously hosted for the two families–and that was as tense as ever.

She wondered what he wanted or if this was him attempting to reconcile a broken bond between the two. Dorothea wasn’t entirely sure what she would do if he even alluded to the idea of courting her. As far as she knew, he wanted nothing to do with her anymore. He didn’t even write to her in Florence; how was she supposed to believe he now wanted to marry her? Not to mention, he had left the ball hosted by Lady Danbury early, not too long after she was named the Diamond of the season. That was far from an obvious courting technique, unless playing hard-to-get was a new method of approaching the season.

“I present Lord Benedict Bridgerton.”

The feeling of drowning was something that had become so comfortable to Thea that she barely even noticed when she started to. She scarcely comprehended the feeling of ice tickling her skin as she met his ways, those same eyes that peered down at her with wonder the night she had returned from Florence. Those eyes had seen her at her weakest moments, the most fragile and the most vulnerable. Benedict Bridgerton was the source of all of Thea’s pain, yet the only remedy that brought her any solace–and there he stood, Forget-Me-Nots in hand.

He wore the colour of the killer that filled Thea’s lungs. A blue that reminded her of the oceans in Florence, twisting around her and creating a beautiful portrait of pain and wonder and everything that she ever wanted. And he carried Forget-Me-Nots, a pocket watch with the hidden treasure hanging from his jacket pocket.

“I haven’t come to court your daughter, your Grace.”

The ice burned her skin, slicing through her skin and finding purchase in impaling the girl’s chest. The matching necklace she wore to that hidden treasure screamed at her, a sound Dorothea only knew from her worst nightmares. He wasn’t drowning her; no, now he was killing her without any remorse in his words. Those same eyes that brought her so much love made her stupid in love, leaving her susceptible to the betrayal of a knife digging through her spine.

“Then what are you here for, Lord Bridgerton?”

Don’t answer. Dorothea prayed to whatever God sat above her that he wouldn’t answer. She prayed that this was simply a terrible nightmare playing out in front of her, like the black paint spilling across her ocean landscape. She wanted to just open her eyes, awake from this nightmare as his eyes stayed trained on her. The sapphire in her chest rose and fell rapidly, something she hoped went unnoticed by the killer that stood at the threshold.

“To apologize for my actions at the ball…that is all.”

“That is very honourable of you, Lord Bridgerton; I appreciate your gratitude–and I am sure this will please your brother.”

“Anthony does not know of my attendance here,” Benedict continued, “It is something of my own free will. It felt dishonourable and offensive on your esteemed name. Alas, I have taken up too much of your time. Accept these flowers as a token of my apologies…I bid you a good day.”

He turned and left, leaving Dorothea stranded in the middle of the ocean. There was no more land around her, just water. It lapped at her skin as she floated on its surface, no longer submerged in its depths. There was no more struggling as he handed her the flowers like a lifeline. She used them to keep herself afloat while he departed, draining the ocean from the very bottom. There was no more drowning at the time being–just floating, floating in his waters as she waited for his arms to wrap around her waist and tug her back.

She dismissed the rest of the suitors for the day.

[medicifm]

*  not  me  actually  writing  an  intro  the  night  before  like  i  always  mean  to  😳  hennyway  hey  biddies  ,  i'm  chloe  ,  im  in  the  snowy  part  of  pst  ,  &  i  use  she / her  pns  .  i’ve  been  . . . . . . .  scouring  the  tags  for  an  rp  like  this  so  im  so  excited  to  bring  this  newish  muse  of  mine  here  !   im  here to  do  the  honours  of  introducing  my  himbo - on - the outside , manipulative - shit - on - the - inside  . . .  oscar  🤡

(  twenty  three , cis  man , he / him  ) ✉ ― hey  babes , have  you  met  OSCAR  MEDICI ?  they’re  working  here  as  THE  HEAD  CHEF  AT  LORENZO’S ,  a  few  villas  down  from  where  you’re  staying  .  you  might  hear  them  singing  ALRIGHTY  APHRODITE  BY  PEACH  PIT  playing  from  their  villa  ,  it’s  their  favourite  song  .  yes  ,  they  hear  that  they  look  like  JACK  GILINSKY  a  lot  ,  actually  -  it’s  really  uncanny  .  their  friends  back  home  in  SYDNEY , AUSTRALIA  say  that  if  they  were  on  a  tv  show  ,  their  trope  would  be  THE  WOLF  IN  SHEEP’S  CLOTHING  ,  how  funny  is  that  ? ✎ chloe , 22 , she/her , pst

𝐢  .

pinterest  |  wanted  plots  |  

𝐢𝐢  .

name  :  oscar  gabriel  medici

age  :  twenty  three

dob  /  sign  :  december  4th  ,  1997  /  sagittarius  sun  ,  leo  moon  ,  libra  rising 

pob  :  sydney , australia

gender / pronouns  :  cis  man  &  he / him / his

career :  head  chef  at  lorenzo’s  ,  full - time  heathen  ,  professional  disappointment  for  mothers  everywhere  .

drinking / drugs / smoking :  yes / more  often  than  he’d  admit / never .  

religion  :  jewish  background  ,  currently  non - practicing .

physical  :  jack  gilinsky  fc ,  dark  brown / black  longish  curls  (  reference  )  ,  dark  brown  eyes  ,  canon  jack  g’s  tattoos  ,  no  piercings  ,  6′2″  ,  175  lbs  ,  lean  but  strong  .  tattoos  a  la  canon!jack  ,  pearly  white  smile  that  he  may  . . .  or  may  not  . . .   use  crest  3D  white  strips  weekly  to  maintain  .  lots  of  burns  &  scars  from  kitchen  mishaps  on  his  hands  &  arms  .

traits  :  hard - working  ,  flighty  ,  intelligent  ,  hedonistic  ,  charismatic  ,  intense  ,  volatile  ,  

other  :  speaks  weird  french  (  aussie  accent  tings  )  ,  tans  easily  but  wears  sunscreen  nonetheless  ,  works  hard  parties  harder  ,  can’t  read  a  lick  of  french  but  spends  a  lot  of  his  free  time  with  a  coffee  &  a  new  paperback  ,  has  a  bit  of  an  internal  vendetta  against  rich  people  (  for  no  real  reason  ,  he  just  doesn’t  like  most  of  them  )  ,  has  ins  with  a  bunch  the  local  farmers  &  visits  them  weekly  ,  pretends  he  isn’t  lowkey  addicted  to  nicotine  administered  via  a  puff  bar  ,  liquor  of  preference  is  tequila  or  red  wine  ,  drives  a  lil  vespa  around  town  for  the  gag  of  it  (  loves  seeing  it  haphazardly  parked  amongst  a  bunch  of  luxury  cars  )  ,  

character  inspo  :  jess  mariano  (  gilmore  girls  )  , gordon  ramsey  🤡 ,  patrick verona ( 10 things i hate about you ) , ferris bueller ( ferris bueller’s day off ) , han solo ( star wars ) .

𝐢𝐢𝐢  .

oscar’s  arrival  was  as  unwanted  to  his  parents  as  could  be  :  a  father  whose  tendencies  leaned  towards  alcoholism  &  abusing  whoever  was  in  arms  reach  ,  a  mother  whose  life  was  more  or  less  spent  at  the  nursing  home  she  worked  as  a  nurse  at  ,  evading  home  .  he  became  a  self - inflicted  loner  ,  preferring  to  do  literally  the  exact  opposite  of  what  was  expected  or  wanted  from  him  .  he  had  a  few  friends  he  ran  with  ,  but  watching  them  all  go  off  &  study  or  prepare  for  university  solidified  in  oscar’s  mind  that  the  non - traditional  route  was  for  him  .  growing  up  by  the  water  ,  oscar  always  felt  more  drawn  to  skip  school  &  head  to  the  beach  than  he  did  obeying  his  parents  wishes  .   

one  of  his  solaces  was  his  grandfather  ,  gabriel  ,  who  owned  an  italian  restaurant  in  a  beach  town  north  of  sydney  .  whenever  the  weather  was bad  &  oscar  felt  like  ditching  class  ,  he’d  head  over  to  his  nono’s  restaurant  where  his  ass  would  be  put  to  work  as  soon  as  he  set  eyes  on  the  restaurant  .  it  was  tough  work  ,  but  challenging  in  a  way  that  fanned  the  flames  in  oscar’s  heart  ,  rather  than  dimming  them  .  by  the  time  he was  a  teenager  he  was  working  in  the  restaurant  everyday  after  school  , an  agreement  between  him  &  his  grandfather  framed  on  the  back  wall  that  stated  that  as  long  as  oscar  kept  from  flunking  out  ,  he  was  allowed  to  spend  as  little  or  as  much  time  in  the  kitchen  as  he  pleased .  

his  absolute  defiance  of  anything  traditional  &  following  the  rules  made  him  unpopular  with  adults  ,  but  lowkey  cool  with  the  girls  .  by  the  time  he  was  sixteen  ,  he  was  losing  his  focus  on  the  restaurant  &  his  grades  &  spending  more  &  more  time  chasing  after  girls  .  his  nono  tried  to  get oscar  to  come  back  &  focus  ,  but  as  always  ,  anything  he’s  asked  to  do  quickly  becomes  the  thing  he’s  running  from  the  most  .

tw  :  death  ,  cancer  .  around  his  eighteenth  birthday  ,  his  grandfather  suddenly  fell  ill  with  a  rare  form  of  cancer  that  took  his  life  six  weeks  after  diagnosis  ,  which  rocked  oscar’s  world  .  he  felt  overwhelming  guilt  that  he  hadn’t  spent  more  time  with  his  grandfather  ,  which  manifested  itself  as  oscar  dropping  out  of  school  a  year  shy  of  graduation  to  commit  himself  fully  to  perfecting  his  grandfather’s  techniques  ,  learning  all  of  his  recipes  (  read  :  pouring  over  dozens  of  handwritten  cookbooks )  in  some  failed  attempt  to  get  back  some  time  with  him  .  oscar  hadn’t  been  close  with  his  parents  in  years  ,  more  or  less  seeing  them  as  wardens  of  a  prison  he  wanted  nothing  to  do  with  .  his  grandfather’s  will  left  him  the  deed  to  the  restaurant  ,  with  an  ask  that  oscar  would  promise  to  act  on  whatever  he  felt  called  towards  ,  rather  than  doing  what  others  expected  of  him  .  to  be  candid  ,  this  whole  situation  crushed  him  .

eventually  ,  he  decided  he’d  had  enough  of  the  stifling  community  he’d  grown  up  in  .  he  sold  the  restaurant  to  one  of  the  regulars  ,  a  wealthy  man  who  he’d  come  to  acknowledge  as  somewhat  of  an  uncle  ;  a  safe  pair  of  hands  who  would  treat  his grandfather’s  legacy  with  as  much  passion  &  respect  as  oscar  himself  would  .  so  he  packed  a  bag  ,  texted  his  mom  that  he  was  going  traveling  ,  &  got  on  a  flight  that  evening  .  he  traveled  all  around  -  first  through  central  america  ,  then  through  europe  ,  throughout  asia  &  africa  ,  &  spent  a  few  months  driving  a  van  across  the  continental  united  states  &  canada  for  fun  . 

eventually  ,  he  started  getting  low - ish  on  money  ,  &  decided  to  settle  in  one  of  his  favourite  places  he’d  visited  :  southern  france  .  he  arrived  in  early  2018  ,  taking  on  whatever  menial  tasks  he  could  while  learning  french  until  he  got  a  position  as  a  line  cook  in  an  italian  restaurant  .  a  few  years  later  ,  he’s  made  his  way  up  to  filling  the  head  chef  position  ,  an  honour  he  takes  with  pride  .  he’s  implemented  many  of  his  own  recipes  while  using  flavours  he’s  learned  from  his  travels  ,  with  ingredients  straight  from  local  farmers  .  he’s  earned  the  restaurant  a  two michelin  star  rating  ,  &  is  constantly  striving  for  more  to  get  that  last  star  (  both  for  his  own  ego  as  well  as  a  secret  debt  to  his  grandfather  )  .

𝐢𝐯  .

ok  but  that  vid  where  gordon  puts  two  pieces  of  bread  on  someone’s  head  &  calls  them  an  idiot  sandwich  ?  that’s  oscar  .  intense  as  fuck  in  the  kitchen  ,  &  best  nobody  catch  an  attitude  about  it  bc  he  will  not  hesitate  to  hand  them  their  ass  on  a  silver  platter  .

another  gordon  reference  :  you  know  how  he’s  the  spawn  of  satan with  adults  ,  but  the  sweetest  ,  most  helpul  guy  with  children  ?  that’s  oscar  with  his  staff  vs  people  he  wants  something  from  .  whether  its  to  sleep  with  them  (  usually  his  first  instinct  to  be  fair  )  ,  their  money  or  clout  ,  or  to  get  into  some  wild  adventure  some  random  resort  staff  wouldn’t  dream  of  getting  into  ,  he  can  turn  on  the  charm  whenever  needed  .

can  go  from  absolutely  demoralizing  someone  in  the  kitchen  to  stepping  out  into  the  lounge  to  schmooze  with  his  friends  or  cougars  who  leave  phat  tips  in  0.2  seconds  .  the  speed  at  which  his  mood  can  completely  180  is  one  of  the  seven  world  wonders  (  last  i  checked  )  .

his  love  language  is  absolutely  acts  of  service  .  catch  him  actually  falling  in  love  once  in  a  blue  moon  &  making  it  his  mission  to  cook  her  extravagant  meals  everyday  .  

the  wolf  in  sheep’s  clothing  label  epitomizes  his  nice  ,  helpful  ,  charismatic  exterior  ,  while  ulterior  motives  &  disdain  for  those  who  grew  up  with  more  money  than  he  did  lurk  beneath  the  surface  . 

he  can  be  MEAN  when  someone  fucks  him  over  or  pushes  him  farther  than  he  wants  -  isn’t  afraid  to  go  for  the  low  blows  or  send  someone  home  with  an  identity  crisis  if  it  protects  himself  .

lowkey  alcoholic  but  he’s  not  ready  for  that  conversation  yet  .  he  sees  it  more  as  perks  of  the  location  &  atmosphere  he’s  found  himself  in  .

also  lowkey  falls  in  love  HARD  ,  like  this  man  is  a  closeted  romantic  but  self - sabotages  all  potential  relationships  before  they  can  get  to  that  point  out  of  fear  he’ll  be  unable  to  live  life  of  his  own  volition  (  takes  a  flaky  philophobic  sagittarius  to  know  a  flaky  philophobic  sagittarius  🤡  )  .  has  probably  only  had  a  few  real  relationships  besides  flings  bc  he’s  afraid  .

𝐯  .

check  out  my  wanted  plots  tag  listed  here  ,  as  well  as  my  pinterest  wanted  plots  board  here  .  here   are  some  other  suggestions  hehe  :

best  friend  /  ride  or  die  :  someone  who  knows  about  his  past  ,  keeps  him  grounded  when  he’s  lk  spiraling  &  wants  to  drop  everything  &  flee  to  some  far  flung  corner  of  the  earth  .

actual  relationship  :  it  was  fast - burn  with  deep  feelings  (  not  them  thinking  they’re  soulmates  after  dating  for  a  month  . . .  pete  &  ariana  type  beat  )  but  completely  unrealistic  .  they  have  their  own  life  ,  he’s  pretty  much  tied  to  the  restaurant  ,  not  to  mention  his  lack  of  sharing  anything  about  his  childhood / life  back  home  .  they  loved  &  cared  for  each  other  ,  but  crashed  &  burned  fairly  quickly  because  of  how  idealistic  it  was  .  they  can  either  be  on  bad  or  good  terms  now  .

hateship  with  sexual  tension  😈

summer  flings  !!

fake  boyfriend  :  he  shows  up  on  her  arm  to  her  family’s  events  where  she’s  expected  to  have  a  partner  .  it’s  not  a  real  relationship  ,  but  her  parents  don’t  need  to  know  that  .  he  plays  the  part  &  satisfies  her  parents  beyond  the  bare  minimum  ,  &  in  return  she  invites  him  to  parties  ,  takes  him  out  on  her  family’s  yacht  ,  etc  etc  .  we  luv  some  symbiosis  

i  can  always  use  more  fwbs  hehehe

squad  :  a  group  of  people  who  do  everything  together  ,  have  a  chaotic  group  chat  ,  have  nicknames  for  one  another  ,  are  utd  on  each  other’s  sex  lives  ,  party  all  night  then  show  up  to  brunch  hungover  together  .  

cat  &  mouse  :  someone  he’s  pursuing  who  isn’t  quite  giving  in  ,  &  vice  versa  .  maybe  it’s  been  going  on  a  few  years  ,  everytime  they’re  in  st  tropez  they  have  this  weird  lil  flirtationship  thing  goin  on  until  she  leaves  ,  they  forget  about  one  another  ,  then  pick  it  right  back  up  when  she  returns  .

confidant  :  preferably  someone  from  a  working  class  background  who  understands  his  plight  of  being  a  worker  amongst  people  who  expect  to  be  waited  on  .

enemies  :  they  don’t  like  his  attitude  ,  &  he  doesn’t  like  them  in  return  .  lots  of  eye  rolls  ,  shit  talking  ,  &  tension  between  their  mutual  friends  .

we’re  sleeping  together  but  we  shouldn’t  be  but  that’s  half  the  fun :  for  whatever  reason  they  became  friends  ,  starting  hooking  up  despite  it  not  being  a  good  idea  (  read  :  he’s  exes  with  one  of  her  friends  ,  her  parents  want  her  focused  on  career  ,  they’re  part  of  the  same  friend  group  ,  etc )  . . . but  now  they  can’t  stop  .  lots  of  stolen  glances  across  rooms  ,  squeezing  past  one  another  in  a  crowded  club  just  close  enough  for  a  quick  touch  to  the  back  ,  quietly  leaving  one  another’s  places  the  morning  after  & ��playing  dumb  to  anyone  who  asks  . 

[platitvdes]

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: edward michael kaspbrak

NICKNAME(S): eddie, eds, spaghetti head, eddie spaghetti, spagheds, etc. by the losers/party. also wheezy, “sissy little queer boy,” and uh a bunch of other… more aggressive things by non–partylosers according to the book thanks a lot steve (king, not harrington)

AGE: eighteen

DATE OF BIRTH: september 3, 1976

HOMETOWN: derry, maine

CURRENT LOCATION: derry, maine

ETHNICITY: he white

NATIONALITY: americano

GENDER: cis male

PRONOUNS: he/him/his

ORIENTATION: het thanks!!!!! just kidding he’s a homoromantic homosexual

RELIGION: a good christian boiy. he was raised methodist. what is he really? who knows. fighting a giant clown monster demon thing makes you really question a lot about religion and he’s not willing to go too deep into it

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: left-leaning, but very moderately so, mostly influenced by his friends and also by the fact that maine has been a blue state pretty much for the entire time he’s been old enough to think about these things. his mom’s a democrat solely because she lives off the welfare system ( and because she finds bill clinton incredibly charming and charismatic ); otherwise she’d definitely be a republican

OCCUPATION: student, a sad small gay

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: he lives with his momma in a very toxic environment also his mom is lowkey a hoarder it’s not so bad that he’s embarrassed to invite people over but like she’s a hoarder

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english and…. english

ACCENT: um idk a maine accent

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: timothée chalamet

HAIR COLOUR: dark brown

EYE COLOUR: hazel—sometimes more green, sometimes more brown, sometimes more weirdly gold-ish; depends on the day and lighting

HEIGHT: five feet, eight inches.

WEIGHT: one-hundred twenty-two pounds.

BUILD: skinny af and long-limbed ( for his stature ). not crazy short anymore, but still below average height

TATTOOS: LMAO

PIERCINGS: y’all. pls

CLOTHING STYLE: from my head canons, bc i’m too lazy to rewrite it: eddie often looks like he’s stepped out of the pages of a ralph lauren catalogue not because he is stylish or fashionable at all—he isn’t—but because he wears a lot of polos and shorts, though he doesn’t fill them out nearly as well as the ralph lauren models do. Especially pastel polos. he also frequently wears your good ol’ graphic tee and jeans combo, because you can’t go wrong there, right?

USUAL EXPRESSION: concerned tbh

DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: slightly doe-eyed, extremely doe-bodied, a preppy haircut, an inhaler in hand, and also he’s probably getting squeaky-voiced about something and/or visibly shaking. like a chihuahua.

HEALTH

PHYSICAL AILMENTS: technically? none

NEUROLOGICAL CONDITIONS: LORDY okay so the number one most important one is munchausen syndrome and hypochondria courtesy of being the proxy of his mom’s munchausen by proxy; severe anxiety (including generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, and social anxiety disorder); clinical depression; and, finally, i believe the medical term for it is “FOMO"

ALLERGIES: supposedly pollen, animal dander, insect bites/stings, dust, latex, mold, wool, and, like, a bunch of other shit. he does actually have some allergies, especially to pollen/animal dander/dust, that aren’t super severe and therefore don’t necessarily present typical allergy symptoms and contribute to his constant feelings of general illness and malaise that heighten the aforementioned hypochondria. he also is actually allergic to latex. womp womp

SLEEPING HABITS: not the best but not the worst—eddie falls asleep early enough and wakes early enough, especially when left to his own devices, but he’ll often stay up later just to be in the group chat because of the aforementioned FOMO and also because richie will usually show up at his house and they’ll just talk for a while. but even then tbh he has a hard time staying up later than like 1 or 2, and even on the weekends he’ll wake up pretty early. so……… all this adds up to having ambitions of getting a good amount of sleep, not getting Terrible amounts of sleep, but also not getting Enough sleep.

EATING HABITS: you would think he would have some special diet and maybe in 2018 he would be raised eating nothing but kale and granola and gluten free shit but bitch it’s 1994 eddie eats hella processed foods

EXERCISE HABITS: that’s cute idk he gets exercise from running from bullies and riding his bike w his friends although they don’t do that as much anymore now that people have cars

EMOTIONAL STABILITY: 1 probably eddie is always on the verge of a nervous breakdown. in actuality he’s probably around a 7, which is much higher than you might think; as much as he is indeed constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown, he’s done a pretty good job of pushing down literally everything into a well so deep that most people, including himself, can’t really tell what’s wrong or what’s going on, and it’s been that way for a long, long time. or anyway, repression is the only version of emotional stability he’s learned to manage and maintain, which probably doesn’t actually count as very stable, so who knows, maybe he’s a 3.

SOCIABILITY: not as introverted as one might think; he’s definitely an introvert and needs some time alone to recharge, but in general, he prefers being around his friends to not being around them and will go out of his way to be with the people he’s closest to

BODY TEMPERATURE: runs cold, typically, which also means he gets cold easily, which sucks when you live in fucking maine

ADDICTIONS: none

DRUG USE: a seasoned pill popper of all kinds of vitamins and various placebos. he’s also on like 35 different mental health related medications. i know this isn’t what you were looking for but this is eddie kaspbrak

ALCOHOL USE: fam, come on

PERSONALITY

LABEL: “the little nervous one,” according to me upon my first watch of IT (2017); the crepehanger

POSITIVE TRAITS: loyal, feisty, energetic, brave

NEGATIVE TRAITS: defeatist, anxious, rambling, hypocritical

GOALS/DESIRES: to overcome his biggest fears, mainly—which means to be able to leave derry ( and his mother ) behind; to accept that he is not some sickly boy in need of protecting; to feel comfortable in his own skin.

FEARS: disease, death, abandonment, intense feelings of any kind honestly, his sexuality, exposure of said sexuality, change, his mom, disappointing his mom, independence, failure

HOBBIES: comics, movies, spending fucking HOURS reading medical websites and learning that all roads lead to cancer, hanging out with The Gang™, annoying his friends, lecturing his friends, sneaking out of his house, super mario bros, is candy a hobby? it is now, not dungeons and dragons ‘cause he’s not a fuckin nerd

HABITS: nail biting, compulsive timekeeping, pencil chewing tbh but only at Home, ice chewing also…..it’s super bad for your teeth but man does he love it……., assuming death lurks around every corner and shouting at everyone else about it

FAVOURITES

WEATHER: he likes a sunny day in weather that is slightly crisp, like late september, bc he has seasonal allergies

COLOUR: blu. particularly a good royal blue. sometimes sky blue if he’s feeling festive

MUSIC: pop music mostly…………. he loves a diva. he is a Loud whitney houston stan but he keeps his madonna love much closer to the vest

MOVIES: comedies definitely. he doesn’t care much for movies that are like, cinematically renowned and artsy or whatever. he’s here for something stupid that’ll make him laugh. he really likes dumb and dumber, embarrassingly enough. he also loves bill & ted. it’s his favorite movie. good ol wholesome fun, there.

SPORT: tennis obviously

BEVERAGE: an arnold palmer he’s really wildin out here

FOOD: honestly? a fuckin ice cream sundae

ANIMAL: penguins they’re gay and they mate for life

FAMILY

FATHER: frank kaspbrak. he died of cancer when eddie was a wee bab ( he was five so not actually a wee bab, but wee enough )

MOTHER: sonia kaspbrak, a devil woman

SIBLING(S): none

PET(S): he had a goldfish named arnold once that’s it

FAMILY’S FINANCIAL STATUS: lower middle class. his mom doesn’t work and lives solely off disability checks and the like, but they never seem to be for lack of money for eddie’s extensive medical care or, like, food or shelter.

EXTRA

ZODIAC SIGN: virgo binch

MBTI: ISFJ ( the defender )

ENNEAGRAM: type 6 ( the loyalist ), but actually he’s a type 6 with a type 5 wing that’s almost balanced, which, hilariously, is also called the defender

TEMPERAMENT: melancholic

HOGWARTS HOUSE: GRYFFINDOR FIGHT ME

MORAL ALIGNMENT: lawful good

PRIMARY VICE: envy

PRIMARY VIRTUE: charity

ELEMENT: earth