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raspberryfingers · 2 years ago

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A Lion In the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 6)

WARNINGS: None

Word Count: 12k

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Angry. It had made me angry to consider that Lord Tywin’s name would end up next to mine in the history books, because why should it?

It had been just under two weeks since I’d last had a proper conversation with the Hand of the King, and since then I’d done plenty of thinking about the subject. It was incredibly frustrating to me that Lord Tywin should get some credit for my sword, because all that he had done was stuck his own blade into the man’s skull. He had not fought off the Baratheon soldier, he had not received disgusting threats. And yet somehow, when future generations told the story of the sword, they would have to recall that he had ‘saved my life’.

It was pathetic, and had reminded me of just how much I hated Tywin Lannister. What was even worse, I had let myself be swayed by his gifts and his charming words. How could I have let that happen? I was a Tyrell, after all, I shouldn’t have been so eager to thank him for a set of armor that my father easily could’ve bought. Not only that, but his words were all political, aiming to make me relax—to win me over to his side. And I’d let him get away with it. What a sad realization that had been.

But, on the bright side, I was continuing to heal rather quickly, and the maesters had allowed me to start practicing again, even if it was only for 30 minutes a day. They said it might actually help to do so, and I’d been more than happy to hear it.

My grandmother had found a man named Bronn, who was supposedly Tyrion Lannister’s sellsword, and I’d had quite a lot of fun practicing with him. He was a creative fighter, and also very instinctual. It wasn’t something I saw often, and I appreciated it. Plus, he was rather challenging since I couldn’t exert my full skill while I was healing. It was good for me.

“How long do the maesters think it’ll be before you’re back to normal?” Bronn questioned, grinning as I blocked his swings. We’d only just started meeting, and our current arrangement was 3 times a week. I expected that soon that would increase, at least until Ser Elias came to the capital.

“They said I should be completely healed in a month at the very latest, but expect it’ll be sooner. I’m personally quite excited. More than anything I’m just glad I can walk around again, and that there’s a sword in my hand instead of a cane,” I noted, spinning my blade backward and dodging Bronn before going on the offense.

“I’m lookin’ forward to it. You’re good now, can’t imagine what you’ll be like once you’re not in any pain,” he said, huffing out and moving rather quickly to block me. Gods, it felt good to be swinging a weapon again. I had been glad when Bronn suggested that we use real blades and not sparring swords.

“I suppose you’ll see then, won’t you?” I smiled, finally relenting in my attacks and catching my breath. Our 30 minutes were up, unfortunately. I tossed Bronn the small bag of gold that we were paying him, and he gave me a good nod as he shoved it in his pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“Suppose I will. I’ll see you in a couple of days, Lady Tyrell. Don’t bother making yourself look pretty next time,” he flirted, chuckling as he left the practice room. I laughed to myself once he’d gone, shaking my head and sitting down on a small bench. There was that, too. Bronn was quite the relentless flirt, and though I tried not to pay him any mind, I had to admit that he was rather charming. And, unlike most men, his flattery didn’t make a person uncomfortable.

I sighed out, reaching for my canteen and taking a sip of water. I was in good shape, of course, but I’d spent nearly three weeks bedridden, and so I had to rebuild a bit of my stamina again. There was a rather noticeable pain in my side, too, but it was far more bearable than it would’ve been even a week ago. Plus, it was worth it to be fighting again.

I pulled my sword onto my lap just as I always did after practice, pulling out a cloth and meticulously running it over the metal. I didn’t even know why I bothered keeping it so clean, in a week or two I’d be using an entirely different sword, but there was something rhythmic about doing it.

I found myself humming a tune, which for a moment I didn’t even realize was the Rains of Castamere. Bronn had been humming it during practice, and the bits that he had sung were quite nice. With impressive skills and a good voice, I found myself wondering how the freshly knighted man wasn’t married yet.

“And so he spoke… and so he spoke, that lord of castamere… but now the rains weep over his halls, and not a soul to hear…” I sang softly, additionally beginning to whistle afterward. The song did make me a bit bitter, but gods, the man who’d written it had made it undeniably good. I hoped that someday they’d write a similar tune for me.

“Lady (Y/N)?”

I looked up from my blade, finding the Lord Hand standing at the open entrance to the practice room. He looked somewhat surprised, and I watched him come down the steps into the room.

“Hello, Lord Tywin. Is there something I can do for you?” I questioned, rather annoyed that he was intruding. It was a public space, of course, but cleaning a sword was supposed to be soothing, not cumbersome. I was also annoyed because it reminded me that I’d been tasked with speaking to him about my sister's wedding. My grandmother wanted me to figure out who was paying for what, and how much we ought to spend. I knew that I was unfortunately going to have to try and convince him to spend more.

“No. I heard someone singing, I did not realize it was you. I wouldn’t have expected you to be singing that song in particular,” he replied, looking around before settling his gaze on me in a challenging manner. I only scoffed.

“Rest assured, Lord Tywin, I give more credit to the man who wrote the song than you,” I shot back, glaring at him in a similar manner. We both stared each other down for a moment, but I was distracted by even more footsteps in the hallway. His guard came into view in the doorway then, and I raised my eyes at the sight of a crossbow.

“Have you really tired of me this quickly, Lord Tywin?” I joked, deciding that I ought to lighten the tense mood as I put my cloth away and sheathed my sword. There was no point in continuing to clean it now. Lord Tywin looked back, seeing his guard and letting out a sigh.

“I’m going hunting, I need to distract myself,” he explained, blinking a few times as he shook his head with annoyance. I raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what beside me possibly could’ve gotten on his nerves so much that he needed to kill something.

“Well, at some point, my lord, I do need to discuss a few things with you.”

“About?”

“My sister’s wedding to your grandson. I’ve been charged with the topic of finances, unfortunately for both of us,” I answered, adjusting my sword belt with a sigh. Lord Tywin only scoffed, kicking at the stone floor subconsciously. He was even more tense than usual, I could tell.

“Well, I’m here now. Do you intend to make it quick?” he asked, folding his hands together behind his back. I laughed a little, looking at him as though he were a madman. Was he truly insinuating that I was going to be the one to make this difficult?

“That entirely depends on you. My grandmother did say to ask you about it as soon as I possibly could, though, so I’m afraid you’ll have to suffer through it either way,” I said, giving him a look of false sympathy. There was something amusing to me about knowing that he was already having a bad day. Why not make it worse?

Lord Tywin scowled, shaking his head and turning away from me entirely. I stood up as he started for the stairs, and I sighed out with frustration when he began to ascend up them. I quickly went after him, ignoring the slight pain in my side as I moved around his guard and reached out. I grabbed the Old Lion’s arm, forcing him to stop walking.

Feeling me do this, he turned around and raised an eyebrow. He was not in the mood for games, and presently neither was I. He attempted to break away from my grip, but I held on and instead reached for his bicep, walking with him like a proper lady now.

“I’m not joking, Lord Tywin, I do need to discuss the royal wedding with you. I understand that neither one of us wishes to have this conversation, so here is my proposal. Why don’t I join you on the hunt? After we’ve both killed something, perhaps we’ll feel a bit better and be able to talk about the subject rationally. Plus, I’ll even stand in front of whatever animal you decide to kill before you shoot it, that way you can pretend you’re hunting me instead,” I offered, smiling up at him and trying to hold back a laugh at how utterly angry he looked. He refused to even meet my eyes, and his eyebrows were furrowed so intensely that it was no wonder he had wrinkles.

“I do not appreciate your jokes, Lady (Y/N). Why would I invite you to join me for something that I intend to relax with?” he scowled, still not even sparing me a slight glance. I raised my eyebrows with false surprise. It was truly so fun to tease him.

“Are you insinuating that I’m disagreeable, Lord Tywin?”

“I’m not insinuating it, I’m stating it as a fact.”

I rolled my eyes, suddenly wondering if this was such a good idea after all. An entire afternoon with my worst enemy, how delightful. Though, perhaps I could ‘slip’ and let a boar take him the same way that one had taken King Robert. I wondered if that would make boars Cersei Lannister's favorite or least favorite animal.

“I promise to be agreeable, Lord Tywin. I could use a break too, in all honesty. I hardly doubt I’ll be allowed out of The Keep on my own, or without some great reason. It’s starting to drive me insane,” I said, sighing and continuing to hold his bicep. Lord Tywin relaxed a bit and positioned his arm to make it comfortable for me to hold, realizing that I wasn’t going to let go.

“Very well, have it your way then.”

“It’ll be rather fun, Lord Tywin. Let’s stop by my room quickly so I can get my bow,” I said with a pleasant smile, pressing my free hand to his arm in an encouraging manner. He finally looked over at me, and I saw in his eyes that it had been quite some time since he’d held a woman on his arm this way.

“Of course.”

We made a small detour, and I could tell that walking with me made the Old Lion nervous, for he was constantly looking over to make sure I was alright. His other hand was always ready to reach out and catch me should I fall, especially anytime we went down stairs. It was quite interesting.

I was perfectly fine though, and finally broke away from him so I could retrieve my bow from inside my room. Thankfully, that was all I needed to do, already dressed appropriately for a hunt in my light green shirt and brown leather doublet. It was almost as though I’d stolen Loras’ wardrobe.

“Are you as good with that thing as you are with a sword?” Lord Tywin questioned, watching me come out from my chambers with a bow wrapped around my torso and a quiver in my belt instead of a sword.

“I’m good with it, but I’m afraid I’ll never be as good at anything as I am with a sword. Well, daggers too, but that’s all,” I said, making sure everything was in place and then continuing to walk with him. I did not bother grabbing his arm this time, for it would’ve been rather awkward. Though, I supposed nothing was worse than the continual clanking of his guard behind us.

From my room, it was to the stables, and it was at the stables that Lord Tywin finally took the crossbow in his own hands and dismissed his guard. It surprised me, and I was honestly somewhat hesitant.

“Lord Tywin, surely it would seem improper for us to go hunting alone,” I said, pausing before I mounted my horse to make sure that we were on the same page. I was gripping the horn of the saddle and had one foot in a stirrup as I waited for his reply. I watched him carelessly mount his horse and then look down at me.

“I don’t concern myself with it. We can offer whatever we hunt as proof. Besides, people will sooner think you’re attempting to kill me than anything else,” he reasoned. I couldn’t help but laugh, finally mounting up and then adjusting all of my equipment.

“That would be rather relaxing, wouldn’t it? A dead man needn’t concern himself with the planning and finances of a royal wedding,” I joked, to which he let out a hardy laugh and nodded in agreement.

The two of us spurred our horses then, emerging from the Red Keep all by ourselves. Flea Bottom wasn’t necessary to pass through in order to reach the countryside, which made me grateful not because I minded the poor, but because I knew that today King Joffrey was there with Margaery. Lord Tywin seemed to know of it too.

“I hear my grandson is out with your sister today,” he mentioned as we rode.

“Yes. She is exploring the city and making herself beloved to everyone, just as us Tyrells have a habit of doing. You’ve experienced it first hand, Lord Tywin.”

“Ahum, I certainly have.”

I couldn’t resist a smile, though I tried not to think much about it. It was odd, because I detested Lord Tywin for nearly everything he did, and yet when I actually spoke to him it was rather enjoyable. I reassured myself by considering the fact that I usually carried our conversations, and that the only reason I was even laughing or smiling to begin with was because I was teasing him. I didn’t know whether or not I was glad that he’d warmed up to my occasional insults, because while it made things easier, I wanted to hate him. I didn’t like the idea of not being 100% faithful to the vow I’d made as a girl. Perhaps that was why I’d been so uncomfortable with myself lately.

These thoughts plagued my mind as we rode through the city, but thankfully vanished when we finally emerged from King’s Landing and made our way to the Kingswood. It was nice to take a deep breath that didn’t stink of shit, and the woods were extremely peaceful, which instantly made me relax. I suspected that was why Lord Tywin desired so deeply to be in them.

“Do you ever miss the Rock, Lord Tywin?” I asked casually, the thought coming to mind as I admired the landscape. I wondered if it felt like King’s Landing at all with the way it was positioned along the coast.

“Sometimes. I've become just as familiar with the capital as I have with Casterly Rock, but it will never compare to home. The sun rises over the sea here, but at the Rock it sets. It’s quite beautiful,” he said, speaking freely. It surprised me to hear him be so open and honest. I couldn’t help but wonder if the woods alone was enough to make him feel so at ease.

“I remember it. Despite being quite angry with you, Lord Tywin, I can recall being consoled by the pink and orange among the clouds and the water that night. As a young girl from Highgarden, I’d never seen such a beautiful sunset,” I told him, searching the trees for whatever bird was singing such a pretty tune. I noticed that Lord Tywin was subconsciously doing the same. He did not have full control over everything he did, it seemed. It was rather fascinating.

“Do you plan to visit the Rock again, Lady (Y/N)?” He asked, looking over at me as we slowed our horses a bit. I smiled and raised my eyebrow, wondering if it’d just heard the man correctly.

“Was that an invitation, Lord Tywin?”

“If you’d like.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him get down from his horse. I did the same, tying my horse to a tree and fixing my clothes.

“What do you plan to catch, Lord Tywin?” I asked, adjusting my equipment now too. Lord Tywin looked rather intimidating with the crossbow in his hands, and it was surprising to see him hunt. I’d never envisioned him as a particularly outdoorsy man, I supposed.

“A boar or a stag would be nice,” he answered, rolling his shoulders back to stretch out. I tried to reflect on the last time that I had been hunting—for anything besides a man, at least—and realized that it had certainly been quite awhile.

“I imagine the fresh venison would be quite delicious.”

He nodded his head in agreement, and he motioned for me to follow as we started to get deeper in the woods. The twigs and leaves crunched under our feet, but not so loudly as to be disruptive to any animals.

There was a comfortable silence as we examined our surroundings, checking the ground for any sign of recent wildlife. After about half an hour, we observed just what we were looking for: stag tracks. At least, that was what we had originally thought.

“Lord Tywin,” I whispered, to which he turned back and looked over. I pointed down at the ground, and he carefully walked over to see them. His gaze was thoughtful as he observed the ground which I had gestured to.

“These look fresh,” he mumbled, and I made a noise of agreement. Slowly, we began to follow these tracks, and as we did I considered that we must’ve been tracking quite the deer, for the tracks were very large.

My questions were answered when, after a few minutes of walking, the man beside me put his hand up to stop me. I instantly froze, and when I looked up from the tracks on the ground, I couldn’t hold back a gasp.

Staring directly at us was a white hart, and a rather large one too. My gasp had caused it to look over, and it seemed to be staring at us just as much as we were staring at it. It was an absolutely gorgeous animal, with white fur that was practically glowing and a giant set of antlers. I wondered if this was the most majestic thing I’d ever seen.

It was odd, because I reached out to Lord Tywin to prevent him from raising his crossbow, but when I felt his hands I realized that he hadn’t had any intention to do that at all. All that either of us wanted to do was stare, for how could we kill such an animal?

A loud noise in a bush somewhere nearby frightened the thing, and it promptly ran off, but both Lord Tywin and I were too shocked to move for a moment. I only did when I realized that my hand was still on his, and when I looked down and saw it, I quickly pulled away.

“I’ve never seen a white hart before,” I said softly, swallowing nervously and hoping that he wouldn’t make a comment about me grabbing his hand. He’d looked down and seen it, and I found myself anxious because of it for some reason. After all, I had grabbed his arm without a problem just an hour ago.

“I don’t believe that I have either. Maybe once as a young man, but I can’t recall it if I did,” he said, contemplating it for a moment and then shaking his head.

“Well, if it looked anything like that, then I’m certain you would’ve remembered.”

“Yes, I suppose I would have.”

We looked at each other for a moment, and then back at the ground. So much for the ‘stag’ we’d been tracking. We’d have to find entirely new tracks.

“We ought to go back the other way, I don’t want to go too far from the horses,” I suggested, to which Lord Tywin nodded and began walking. I followed behind, and I could not get the image of the white hart out of my head. They were commonly associated with royalty, and I found myself wondering if perhaps Margaery’s marriage to Joffrey wouldn’t be so horrible after all. Though, that was a large assumption to place on the sighting of an animal. I would sooner trust my grandmother's opinion.

“Lady (Y/N), look,” Lord Tywin whispered, suddenly getting my attention. When I lifted my eyes from the branch covered ground, I noticed not just one, but two stags grazing directly in front of us. Was this hunt the gods’ apology for the wound up my side?

I smiled at the Hand of the King, and he couldn’t resist a subtle one either as he carefully crouched by a log. I slowly made my way over and joined him, quietly drawing an arrow from my quiver and readying to draw. Lord Tywin did the same, loading his crossbow as gently as he could.

Once he’d done that, I leaned toward him, motioning that I desired to whisper. He moved in, and my mouth came just before his ear. We were so close that I felt his hot breath on my neck.

“I’ll shoot first, it’s quieter. Once I release, you shoot the second one. The second one being the one closest to you, naturally,” I planned out quietly, making him nod in agreement. I wondered if this was the first thing he hadn’t fought me on at all.

I leaned away and carefully drew back my bow, aiming with relative ease. The only sound made was the small ‘plunk’ of the string releasing, and within seconds the deer I’d aimed at was dead, shot directly through its eyes. As we’d discussed, Lord Tywin pulled the trigger just after I’d released my arrow, giving us two dead stags and quite a victorious hunt.

Standing, Lord Tywin offered his hand to help me up. I accepted willingly, feeling rather satisfied as we went to examine our kills. They were decent sized stags, and for a moment I almost felt bad. They had been so beautiful, and we’d taken it upon ourselves to kill them anyway. Well, we would at least make good use of them, and there was reassurance in that.

“Both clean kills. I’ll go get the horses, it’s too far for me to carry both of them,” he noted, making me scoff out in disbelief.

“I’m perfectly capable of carrying my kill, Lord Tywin. I’m not nearly as weak as you’d like to believe I am,” I informed him, somewhat offended by his insinuations. I stepped toward the deer I’d shot in an attempt to pick it up, but he gripped my arm and kept me from doing it. I was more than just a bit annoyed now.

“No, I’m not going to have you try and lift that thing. I’ll go and get the horses,” he countered, making me full on scowl now. Why was he being so stubborn?

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lord Tywin. I’m just going to pick it up, it’ll be fine,” I said, breaking free of his grasp and lowering myself so I could get a good grip on the stag.

“Lady (Y/N), I'm serious, do not try to lift up that animal!”

I entirely ignored his command, doing precisely what he hadn’t wanted and raising my eyebrows at him once I’d managed to stand up without a problem. The deer was slung about my shoulders, and he looked utterly annoyed.

“Would you look at that, Lord Tywin, my limbs didn’t fall from my body!” I exclaimed, feigning shock and then rolling my eyes at him. His sentiment had been entirely pathetic, and I hadn’t a clue why he was being so adamant about it.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said after a moment, glaring at me and then lifting his own kill from the ground. I scoffed at him, my anger over the subject only increasing.

“I wonder if it’s possible that you’ll ever stop treating me like I’m still a child. I’m more than capable, my lord, I promise you that. And yet for some reason, you are always doubting me, always giving me far less credit than I deserve. Well, quite frankly, I’m sick of it. I’ve worked hard my entire life, and it wasn’t just so that you could constantly treat me like a little girl,” I ranted, frustrated that he wouldn’t even look me in the eyes as I said it. He looked entirely disinterested, nodding at what I had to say as he looked around. I was close to just snapping altogether.

Lord Tywin looked around for a few seconds more, finally making eye contact with me when he was certain I was finished. “I will stop treating you like a little girl, Lady (Y/N), the day that you stop acting like one.”

He moved past me before I could reply, beginning to walk toward the horses. For a moment, all I could do was stand there. I don’t know what I’d expected, but it hadn’t been that. Because it had made me even angrier, yes, but it had also hurt. Tywin Lannister was the one person on earth that I could not bear to be seen as a child by.

As this hurt and anger built up inside me, I did not waste time following after him. I began to huff out, not with exertion, but with absolute fury. How dare he? After all that I had done to help House Lannister, he still refused to treat me with decency.

“I do not act like a child, Lord Tywin! I have tried my very hardest to get along better with you, for the sake of our families if not for anything else. Out of courtesy, I have held back nearly everything that I wish to say to you, but you… you are merely insistent upon being an insufferable cunt!” I yelled at him, watching him stop in his tracks. His back was to me, and I stopped walking too as I watched him process what I’d said. I had used his full ‘title’ again, though it was more out of hurt than anything. I did not feel like crying, but my lip trembled all the same. “Why… why do you have to be such an insufferable cunt?”

Lord Tywin finally turned to face me, and I prepared myself for whatever insult might come when I saw his signature furrowed brows. I expected something along the lines of ‘you’re a spoiled child’, or ‘because you deserve it’—that or some other horrible insult. But, as the Old Lion looked at me, something in him shifted. His brows relented, and he sighed out with a sort of defeat.

“I didn’t want you to do it because I was worried that you would hurt yourself,” he said, blinking several times as his eyes narrowed. It looked like it had caused him pain to say it, although I was rather confused. How was that relevant at all?

“What?”

“I did not want you to pick up that deer, Lady (Y/N), not because I see you as a child, or because I see you as incompetent, but because I was worried that you might end up hurt,” he admitted, and for some reason it made him vulnerable. Why did he have such a hard time saying such a thing? It made sense, I supposed.

“And how was I to know that? I may be a woman of many talents but I cannot read minds. Why didn’t you just… I don’t know, explain that? Instead you decided that it would be easier to make me upset.” I adjusted the deer on my shoulder, starting to feel its weight quite prominently. Gods, I could not wait to be back to normal in a month.

“Sometimes it is easier to let people believe what they’d like to,” he noted, eyes still focused on mine. It was a change, for usually he did not bother to make eye contact when we spoke. I swallowed, staring at him for another moment and then shaking my head.

“Well I don’t want to believe that, Lord Tywin… I don’t- don’t wish for you to truly see me as childish or immature.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing that I don’t. Not most of the time, anyway.”

We said nothing else, only staring for a few moments before continuing to walk back to the horses. If there was one thing that I could say about Tywin Lannister that was true 100% of the time, it was that he never failed to surprise me. In both good and bad ways, I supposed.

After a few minutes we found the horses again, and I was grateful to be free of the ache on my shoulder as I tossed the stag onto the back of the animal. It was also fairly easy to secure, and it did not move an inch when I mounted my horse.

“We can discuss the wedding now, if you’d like,” Lord Tywin offered, getting onto his horse as well and shifting in the saddle. I immediately shook my head.

“No, I don’t want to talk about the wedding.”

“Why not? It was the reason you came with me.”

“Because I’m having too good of a time now to want to think about costs. I’ll just tell my grandmother that you agreed to pay for half of it and that’ll be that.” I shrugged, spurring my horse and starting off through the woods at a walk. Lord Tywin followed behind.

“Your grandmother won’t be satisfied with that. You’d be paying for half and supplying the food,” he pointed out, coming up beside me now so we could face each other as we spoke. I looked over at him with quite a bit of surprise.

“You’re the first man in history who’s ever wanted to pay more for something, I hope you realize that.”

“If House Tyrell is also providing food for the wedding, then it is only fair that I pay more. I hope that you will trust me on the subject of economics.” Lord Tywin raised both eyebrows at me, and I couldn’t resist a small smile. Who else but the richest man in all seven kingdoms would I listen to on the subject of money?

“Very well, Lord Tywin, you will cover a bit more than half. Satisfied?”

He gave me a courteous nod and I laughed, shaking my head at how specific he was on the subject. Although, I suppose one only remains rich with smart financial habits, and being specific about costs certainly is one.

We finally emerged from the woods, and I inhaled sharply at the sight of the sunset. Although the sun was behind us, it was absolutely gorgeous, and the clouds painted all hues of orange and pink across the sky. Kings Landing, as hideous and horrible as it was, looked magnificent. It nearly seemed to glow.

“It’s beautiful,” I muttered, trying to recall the last time I’d seen the sky look this way. It had perhaps been years since I’d observed such a breathtaking view.

“Yes… beautiful.”

Lord Tywin’s inflection made me curious, and when I turned to look over at him, I found his eyes fixed on me. He inhaled and looked back at the Red Keep, and I assumed that he’d nearly zoned out while looking at me.

“It’s getting late, Lady (Y/N). That took much longer than I’d anticipated, and King’s Landing is too dangerous after dark. For us, anyway,” he said, making me laugh in disbelief. Too dangerous after dark? If anybody even attempted to lay hands on us it would be the last time they had hands. Although, I suppose I hadn’t brought my sword with me, and I was no expert with a bow.

“And what do you propose we do? One way or another, we need to get back to the Red Keep. Plus, I’m expected at a dinner with your daughter and the king. Both of my siblings will be there, and if I don’t go, it will look bad,” I explained to him, not sure what exactly he had in mind but knowing that one way or another we would have to get back.

“No, we don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Need to get back to the Red Keep. You have blankets in your saddle bags and so do I. Surely a woman who murders and hunts in her free time isn’t so refined as to refuse sleeping under the stars,” he teased, subtly grinning at the look of shock on my face. Was he utterly insane?

“I’ve never slept outside, Lord Tywin. Not genuinely, anyways,” I sputtered, knowing that the closest I’d ever gotten to doing so was laying out blankets in the middle of the hedge maze with Loras when I was a girl.

“Perhaps you’ll like it,” he said, looking around for—or rather scouting for—a place to camp. I licked my lips anxiously, trying to find a way to convince him that we shouldn’t do this. To go hunting with him was one thing, but to spend the entire night with him? That was nearly as bad as saying that he was my friend, and if people found out the rumors would be ten times as bad.

“But the dinner-“

“You don’t want to attend that dinner, Lady (Y/N). And even if you did, we’ve got a better dinner right here than they do.” He motioned his head to the deer on the back of his horse, giving me a somewhat annoyed look. I glanced at the Red Keep, and then back at him.

“People will talk.”

“Let them. The last time I checked, your hatred for me was still very real and genuine. I feel quite confident that any rumors people might spread will quickly vanish the next time you happen to call me an insufferable cunt. Unless you disagree with my first statement, that is.”

I huffed out, shaking my head and looking away. Yes, he must’ve gone mad, because there was no other logical explanation for him not wanting to return to the Red Keep.

“Trust me, Lord Tywin, when I say that I completely agree with your assessment of my feelings toward you. It’s why I’m so vehemently against your current proposition. I’ve only been able to tolerate this time with you because I killed something. I would rather spend tonight with your daughter and grandson, rest assured,” I said, continuing to shake my head over the idea. The Hand of the King gripped his reins, turning his horse to face me and then settling. He had a very testing look on his face, and I only grew more frustrated as I realized that this was all somewhat amusing to him.

“You’re more than welcome to return on your own, I certainly won’t stop you. I promise you, however, that you will not find any more joy with the king or his mother.” He began to ride away from me now, and I sighed out as I followed behind him. He had laid his eyes on a particularly lucious field, and seemingly had every intention to stay there for the night.

“There’s an inn nearby, Lord Tywin, why not stay there if you’re insistent upon not returning to the Red Keep?” I questioned, suddenly remembering that if we rode north for about 10 minutes we would stumble upon one.

“Every inn within at least 20 miles of King’s Landing is full, Lady (Y/N). They’re accommodating the new mass of Lannister and Tyrell soldiers,” he reminded me, to which I groaned. He was right, of course, and I’d already known that, but it was a desperate grasp at something. “I don’t believe you’ll find sleeping outside to be as horrible as you are imagining it to be, and even if it is, it’s only a single night.”

I sighed, realizing I’d exhausted my arguments. I also had no desire to go through King’s Landing on my own, and I knew that Lord Tywin had won for the first time. I prayed he was right about it not being so bad.

“Fine, Lord Tywin, I’ll join you. Though I am curious, when have you ever slept outside before?” I questioned, suddenly wondering how he even had such experience. How was it possible that the richest and most stuck up man in all of Westeros had done such a thing? Had he secretly taken the black? I laughed to myself at that thought, for it certainly would explain his wardrobe.

“The late King Aerys and I were rather fond of sneaking away from his Kingsguard as boys, and we could not go to inns without being recognized,” he revealed, which somewhat surprised me. It was easy to forget that at one point in time he and Aerys had actually been the best of friends, and it made me feel odd to learn such a fact about the two of them. It was strange to picture a young Tywin Lannister—with a head full of blonde hair—sneaking about with his silver haired companion. It was strange to picture Lord Tywin doing anything remotely fun or mischievous at all. Though, I supposed that sometimes certain people brought out certain sides of you.

“We can stay here for tonight.”

I was broken from my thoughts, and I watched the Old Lion dismount and lead his horse to a tree nearby. Just as I had suspected, he had wanted to stay in the grassy field. I followed him and dismounted too, of course, tying my own horse to ensure he wouldn’t run off or hurt himself. As I examined the stag tied behind the saddle, another thought came to mind.

“How do we plan to eat these deer without knowing how to skin them?” I asked, slowly realizing I had no clue how to skin an animal. I had turned to Lord Tywin, suddenly feeling utterly clueless. The fresh meat certainly would be good, but how on earth were we to prepare it? I certainly had no clue how to gut or cook an animal. I’d have much better luck seasoning one.

“Bold of you, Lady (Y/N), to presume that I don’t know how to skin an animal,” Lord Tywin replied with a hint of amusement, clearly enjoying the anxious look on my face. It only transitioned into surprise as I took in this new information about the man in front of me.

“You do?”

“Of course I do. I’ll find a good log and we can put them on that. Do you know how to build a fire?”

“No, but I can set up our ‘camp’ and perhaps locate some berries to accompany the venison. Maybe herbs, too,” I suggested, though I still found it somewhat ridiculous that I’d agreed to do this. I also felt rather embarrassed by the fact that I genuinely possessed no survival skills. It was something I’d never even needed to think of before.

“Very well.”

I watched Lord Tywin wander into the woods, and I sighed as I located the blankets and such in my saddle bag. It didn’t take very long to lay everything out, so I ventured into the woods myself now too, carrying an empty saddlebag and a cloth to wrap the fruit in.

Much to my relief, I found plenty of berries and herbs, and I was quite excited to bring them back to Lord Tywin. If nothing else, I could at least boast that we wouldn’t be eating any poisonous substances tonight.

However, when I was on my way back to our campsite I became a bit sidetracked. I suddenly noticed an unusually large tree, and it reminded me of one that provided shade for nearly an entire courtyard in Highgarden. I could recall climbing that tree as a child, and for some strange reason I’d felt compelled to do the same with this one.

I placed my bag down, digging my boots into the base of the tree and gripping at ridges in the wood. I had prepared to start climbing, but was unfortunately interrupted by my least favorite sound: Tywin Lannister’s voice.

“You shouldn’t do that. You’ve already been walking quite a lot today, among various other physical activities. You’re going to set back your progress.”

I turned and faced the Old Lion, sighing out with a bit of frustration before realizing he was right and relenting. I supposed that it had been rather stupid, in all honesty. I wasn’t even sure why I’d wanted to do it to begin with. I supposed I just missed home.

I placed both feet back on the ground again, bending over to grab the saddlebag and then beginning to walk back with him. We were both silent for a few minutes, but the question on the tip of my tongue did not wish to remain unheard.

“Were you looking for me?”

“Yes. It had been more than half an hour and you still hadn’t returned. I thought perhaps a boar had gotten you,” he answered sarcastically, making me involuntarily smile. Humor was not something that most people would associate with Tywin Lannister, but if you caught him at the right moment you would certainly find it. I supposed even if you didn’t catch him at the right moment he was still rather snarky, which frequently annoyed me. But, in this setting, it was rather nice.

“Why were you attempting to climb a tree? I was rather surprised to find you that way,” he questioned after a moment, looking over at me curiously. I couldn’t blame him, it was somewhat random. I wasn’t entirely sure what had gripped me either.

“There’s one just like it in Highgarden; I used to climb it all the time as a girl. I can still remember poking my head above the leaves and seeing out for miles… I suppose it was one of my favorite places. The other nice thing was that none of my guards could climb up it in their armor, so they’d be forced to let me stay up there,” I told him, laughing to myself at the memories of Ser Elias frantically trying to get me down. Eventually he’d given up, especially once he’d realized that I was surefooted.

“I see. I take it your findings were successful?” Having noticed the weight at the bottom of my bag, Lord Tywin moved on from the subject. I looked down at it as well, satisfied with my collection.

“Of course they were. I never let you down, Lord Tywin.”

“Ahuh, never.”

We arrived at the campsite then, and I was pleasantly surprised to see a fire already going and a log already laid out in preparation. The Hand of the King certainly knew how to work rather quickly.

As we approached the fire, I noticed that he’d laid out the two deer nearby, though not close enough that they might attract anything to us. As I placed down the saddlebag he went over to them, picking one up and bringing it over.

“Come here, I’ll teach you how to skin it,” he offered—well, more like demanded—as he placed it down on the decent sized log he’d acquired. I finally permitted myself to say the thought that I’d been pondering all day.

“You have considerable strength for your age.”

Lord Tywin suddenly stood straight and looked over at me with utter surprise. Both of his eyebrows raised at me, and for a moment my cheeks went hot with embarrassment. I supposed the sentiment had sounded better in my head.

“For my age?”

I stared at him for a moment, and for some reason his offense—as it was not truly that genuine—became amusing to me. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing, waving my hand as I giggled to insinuate that I didn’t want to talk about it. Lord Tywin simply scoffed, shaking his head and kneeling down in front of the stag.

“I did not mean it like that. It was supposed to be a compliment.”

“Are you entirely certain that none of the berries you picked are poisonous, Lady (Y/N)?” he questioned, gazing at me with false concern. I continued to laugh, joining him in front of the log and nodding my head. Yes, he was in quite a good mood—we both were.

“Yes, I’m quite certain, my lord.”

He gave me the subtlest of smiles and then turned his attention back toward the stag. He looked at it for a moment and then nodded, reaching for the knife. When he held it out to me, however, I merely gaped at him. I didn’t have a single clue how to skin an animal, and I didn’t want to risk ruining our hunt.

“Lord Tywin, I-“

“Don’t get all whiny, I’ll help you. I wasn’t going to have you do it all on your own, that would be foolish,” he grumbled, grabbing my wrist and placing the knife into my palm. I sighed out with relief, swallowing as I glanced down at the carcass. For a moment there, I thought he’d expected me to just intuitively gut the damned thing.

“How- How do I start?” I asked, completely unsure of how to even begin. After all, before today, I’d never even imagined I’d skin an animal. But Lord Tywin knew that too, and with an understanding patience he moved closer to me. He wrapped his right hand around mine, gripping it so that he’d also be able to control the knife. His palms were warm, and for once so were his eyes.

“Let me guide, hm?”

I nodded, swallowing nervously as he brought my hand up to the stag's underside and pushed the knife inside. It was an odd feeling, though I was more preoccupied by the feeling of his hand squeezing around mine as he did it. That, and the fact that he was so close to me I could faintly feel his breath at the top of my neck.

I couldn’t focus on it, however, because he masterfully brought both of our hands down in clean cuts. We had opened up the animal, and I could see the pink of its raw flesh peaking through from under the fur. I began to wonder why the Boltons did not just do this instead.

“I won’t make you handle the intestines and such, but watch carefully so you at least know how,” he explained, suddenly letting go of my hand. I gave the knife back to him and watched with the intent to learn as he cleaned out all the organs, throwing them off to the side. I’d seen enough of mens internal organs in my life to not feel particularly disgusted by these.

“Shouldn’t you bury those to avoid attracting anything?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. He made a small noise of affirmation, moving closer to me—and handing me the knife—once more.

“Yes, I’ll do so while the meat cooks. Now, let’s finish skinning it. You’re going to dig under the fur, and hold it up with your other hand to get a cleaner cut,” he instructed, hand again coming to mine. The feeling gave me goosebumps, the hairs on my arm rising in response to his gentle palms.

But, either way, I did as I was told and reached to lift the animal’s coat with my free hand. The feeling was somewhat uncomfortable, but I did it nonetheless. When I looked over, Lord Tywin nodded to let me know I was doing it correctly. He then guided my hand again, cutting firmly underneath to remove the skin from the carcass.

“I’d like to try on my own, if you’re alright with it,” I said genuinely, beginning to feel a bit more confident now that he’d shown me the general gist of it. He said nothing, but moved his hand away from mine and looked at me in expectation. I swallowed, reaching forward again and continuing to cut back the fur. His silence seemed like good enough of a sign to me, and eventually the majority of the deer was stripped bare.

“Well done, Lady (Y/N). A woman of many talents,” he remarked, though it seemed half genuine and half sarcastic, as if it was in his nature to be rude but he was trying not to be. I held my tongue, instead letting him carve a reasonable amount of meat and push it onto a stick. I proceeded to season it, of course. I would not have my hard work from earlier go to waste.

I sat by the fire as it cooked, and meanwhile Lord Tywin went off a considerable distance to bury the guts. He also took the remains of the carcass with him, though I was not entirely sure where he planned to put it. I found it unnecessary to ask, for strangely I trusted him with it. Though, I could never admit it out loud.

After a while, Lord Tywin joined me in front of the fire again, and having already cleaned my hands I gave him the cloth. Once he’d wiped his own hands clean I offered him some of the berries I’d picked, and suddenly I was glad that I’d decided to stay with him out here, even if it was somewhat odd. I was glad that I’d convinced him to take me hunting to begin with.

“Aren’t you grateful that you brought me with you now, Lord Tywin?”

“How do you mean?”

“You didn’t want me to join you this morning. You were in quite the mood, and yet even despite that we’ve had a lovely day. In my opinion, at least,” I said, smiling at him as I took another berry between my fingers. Lord Tywin scoffed.

“You’re hardly ideal company.”

“Neither are you when you decide to be like this,” I complained, scowling and wondering why he was so quick to put his walls back up every time I began to tolerate him. I supposed it was a good reminder of why I hated him to begin with.

“I apologize for being rude,” he said after a moment, looking over at me. I could tell it was genuine, but I was still somewhat bitter. Why did he feel the need to be rude in the first place? It was so frustrating.

“You ought to.”

Lord Tywin looked as if he was about to get snarky again, but he contained himself. What a miracle, it must’ve been the first time in his life.

“You’re right, Lady (Y/N), it has been a nice afternoon. It’s been far too long since I’ve spent a decent amount of time free from the Red Keep,” he admitted, which I could relate wholeheartedly to. “And I suppose it’s better that it was you rather than any of those other fools, snakes, spiders and mockingbirds.”

I couldn’t resist a smile at the reference to some of the Keep’s more infamous members. It really was quite the compliment, because even if I did hate him, he could at least trust the fact that I was genuine. False kindness was much worse than honest hatred, my sister had made plenty of people aware of that fact. However, this was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“Are you suggesting I’m not capable of being a snake?” I questioned, wanting to get in his head. Such animals were often found underneath flowers, after all.

“You are most certainly capable of being one, but you aren’t. You have no political motivations, unlike your sister. You’ve admitted that all you want is for your father to give you complete command over the Tyrell army,” he answered, pointing out several true facts but ultimately missing an important detail.

“And you believe that prevents me from wanting to advance my siblings? Be careful, Lord Tywin, nightshade is often mistaken as a harmless berry. People only realize their mistake after digesting it,” I cautioned, using my own alias to make him rethink the statement. He pondered for a moment, staring straight at me.

“Have I made a mistake, Lady (Y/N)?”

I gave him a soft smile.

“No, Lord Tywin. Not you.”

He gave a surprised raise of the eyebrows, though he was teasing more than anything, and I felt oddly at peace for the first time in what must’ve been weeks. Yes, I was certainly enjoying today. Though, that thought led me back to something I’d wanted to inquire about earlier.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, Lord Tywin, what happened? This morning, I mean. What made your day so awful?” I questioned, for he hadn’t been in nearly such a good mood when I’d first approached him this morning. He was even more bitter than he usually was, and that was saying something.

Lord Tywin blinked a few times, staring into the fire and probably contemplating whether or not he ought to tell me. He decided in the affirmative as he turned his head to look at me, opening his mouth to speak. “Tyrion wishes for me to give him Casterly Rock. He came to me this morning to request it.”

“Will you?” I inquired, staring at the Old Lion. Even just mentioning it had seemingly made him upset, and so I naturally knew that the answer would be no, but I desired to dig deeper into the issue.

“I’d rather be consumed by maggots.” Lord Tywin only glared into the distance as he spoke; there was venom in his voice as he did. I sighed, trying to figure out where I ought to go from here.

“May I ask why that is?”

“It would be rather rude.”

“I called you an insufferable cunt a few hours ago, I can’t believe this to be so much worse,” I reasoned, huffing out with subtle annoyance. Lord Tywin similarly looked upset, but after a moment he confessed.

“I don’t believe that he’s well suited for it. Constantly drinking, constantly whoring. He would bring down the family legacy that I worked so hard to restore if I let him. Which is precisely why I don’t plan to do so.”

“Lord Tywin, why do you have such grievances against your child, who has never done a thing against you but exist?” I asked, feeling sympathy deep in my heart for Tyrion. As far as I was concerned, he was extremely capable. He’d done well as Hand of the King in his father’s stead, and he’d been responsible for the wildfire at the Battle of Blackwater. To any reasonable man, these were clear signs of competency. To Lord Tywin, however, nothing would ever be enough to override his contempt.

“Never done a thing against me? That boy killed his mother to come into this world. Don’t be foolish, Lady (Y/N),” he replied sharply, practically turning his head completely away from me. And so there it was, not only was Tyrion’s drinking and whoring embarrassing, but he had also been ‘responsible’ for the death of Lady Joanna. I merely shook my head at Lord Tywin.

“Me, foolish? Says the man who truly believes that Tyrion wanted to cause the death of your wife. I know you still feel her loss, and I know that you simply want someone or something to blame for it. Tyrion seemed to be the best culprit, didn’t he? Well, allow me to inform you that he most certainly is not,” I lectured, watching Lord Tywin move forward to take the meat off the fire now that it was ready. He glared at me once he’d done that, and it only prompted me to continue. “And, perhaps if you’d shown Tyrion an ounce of fatherly affection or kindness, he wouldn’t resort to whoring and drinking to fill whatever emptiness you’ve instilled in him from such a young age. You have outcasted him, of course he’s miserable.”

I watched his face rather carefully, gauging his reaction to hearing such a thing. I was correct, and he could not deny that with any real logic, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if he did anyways.

“You make excuses for a man you don’t even know,” Lord Tywin pointed out, placing the meat onto a fresh cloth. It was so tender that we were able to take pieces off with our hands.

“I defend a man that wouldn’t need defending had he not been a dwarf. Plus, I have been in his position, fighting for my fathers approval so that I might obtain what I deserve. Tyrion is the most like you, Lord Tywin. He is most qualified to take over as the Lord of Casterly Rock, and you hate to admit it because of your personal grievances,” I replied, reaching for some of the meat once I was finished. It practically melted in my mouth, and I knew then that at least Lord Tywin had been honest about us having a better dinner here than we would in the Red Keep. It was sort of ironic that a better meal could be found in the Kingswood than at the finest tables in all seven kingdoms.

“My personal grievances…” Lord Tywin huffed, shaking his head before continuing, “my father, Lady (Y/N), made House Lannister the weakest of all the great houses. Our gold mines were just as abundant then as they are now, and for some reason, he believed that meant that anybody should be allowed to take from them. He loaned to nearly every single lord in the kingdoms, and gods forbid that he ever asked for that gold back. We were picked on relentlessly, all because my father didn’t have enough of a spine to realize that he was being used and laughed at. I grew tired of hearing that sound rather quickly, as you can imagine. I’ve fixed the ruination that my father brought upon House Lannister, and dealt with the personal embarrassments. He gave my mothers jewelry to a whore… so perhaps- perhaps now you can understand why I have very little interest in giving Tyrion the rock,” he said, staring into the fire for most of his rant.

It was odd to consider, for I’d never really spent any time thinking about Lord Tywin’s childhood. I had known that people called Lord Tytos ‘the Laughing Lion’, but that was about as far as my knowledge on the subject went. After all, why should I take any interest in the man responsible for putting Tywin Lannister on the earth?

“But it’s more than just that, and I can’t expect you to understand what it’s like to lose a person that you love. I can’t expect anybody to understand what it was like to lose Joanna… I- I loved that woman more than anything. I loved her more than any man or god. And the day that I lost her, well…” he trailed off, and even despite the fact that he would not look at me, I could see the pain and sadness in his eyes. By some miracle, I found sympathy in my heart for this man. I supposed I didn’t have a clue what it was like to lose someone that way—not even an inkling.

“Tell me about her. What did you love most about her?” I turned to face the Old Lion more completely now, leaning on my hand as I sat. Lord Tywin looked at me then, and for a moment I thought that he was going to stay silent. But no, he decided to surprise me.

“That’s an impossible question to answer. I loved everything about her, from her smile to the way that she would attempt to break my composure at court. I sought her advice more than anyone else's, even Kevan’s. She was an advisor and a friend, and more than that she was one of the only people who could ever make me smile or laugh. And gods, she was so beautiful… there was something in her eyes…”

I watched Lord Tywin go off to an entirely different world. He did not even seem like himself as he spoke about her, and it made me soften. I had never met a man who loved a woman so much, which was surprising given the fact that Tywin Lannister was frequently regarded as utterly ruthless. And yet here he was, with all the love in the world in his eyes as he spoke about his late wife.

It was no excuse for how he treated Tyrion, of course, but I supposed it made more sense now. To care for a person that much and lose them… well, it would take a toll on anyone. It was also interesting to consider that many people had said the best part of Tywin Lannister died with Lady Joanna, because I found myself in disagreement with that statement.

The best part of this man had not died, for the way he was sitting here talking about her was so genuine, so pure. If this was not Tywin Lannister at his best, then we weren’t sitting here eating venison and berries. I suspected that the best part of him simply just hadn’t had anyone to show itself to since then.

“If it is any reassurance, Lord Tywin, at least you got to experience such love to begin with, as did she. Most women can only dream of marrying a man who loves them that much, and you gave her that. At least, I know that I certainly won’t receive such affection from whoever I’ll end up marrying,” I told him, reaching out and placing my hand on his shoulder as a reassurance. He looked over at me, thinking for a moment.

“Perhaps you will, Lady (Y/N). Do not give up hope just yet, you probably haven’t even met the man you’ll marry,” he pointed out, being surprisingly optimistic for once. I shrugged, and now it was my turn to gaze into the fire.

“Yes, perhaps I will…” I trailed off, beginning to really consider the fact that I most definitely would not end up marrying a man that I loved. I would end up with some first born son or other, and the second that the ceremony was over my father would take the opportunity to pass on the title of commander to Loras. After all, what husband would want his wife leading an army? That would make them far too self conscious.

I sighed, reaching for the strings at the back of my doublet and loosening them as well as I could. Unfortunately, I’d gotten rather used to having Cerella there to help me, and now I had no chambermaid. I was going to have to do something unimaginable.

“Lord Tywin… could you…?” I motioned to the strings on my doublet, and he instantly nodded. For all of his faults, he was at least not so cruel that he would not help a person even if it had no effect on his life.

He moved over to me, and I adjusted all my hair to make sure that he could reach the strings with easy access. For the second time that night, his breath was on my neck, and I could feel his hands working at the back of my garment. It was oddly intimate, and all I could do was look down while he helped me.

“There you are, all the strings are undone,” he said after a few minutes, moving away from me and sitting down on the grass once more. I nodded, letting my hair go back as I removed the doublet and was left in my shirt, pants, and boots. I folded it neatly and placed it down beside me, laying down on the ground and turning my head toward the fire. I would have felt rather uncomfortable being so casually dressed in front of any other man, but somehow it was not like that with Lord Tywin.

I suspected that it was reassuring to know that he took no interest in me, for why would he? Not only could he purchase any whore he wanted, but I was also an absolute nightmare for him. There’s nothing particularly attractive about knowing someone detests you more than anyone else.

And even more reassuring to know was that even if Lord Tywin—by some utterly insane means—had been attracted to me, he was not the kind of man who had no self control. Which is not to say that he did not have desires, because just like any other human I was quite certain that he did, but he was not a desperate man. Unlike most, his head did not turn to utter mush at the sight of a woman’s skin.

It was this reassurance that allowed me to slowly drift off, even if I wasn’t on my bedrolls and had no intention of sleeping yet. It had been a long day, and I had certainly exerted myself much more than any maester would’ve recommended. That, combined with the sound of the fire and the darkness of night coaxed me into sleep. And I wouldn’t realize it until later, but the next morning I would wake up among my bedrolls and blankets, perfectly sound. Not only that, but I would also have an extra blanket: a blanket that Lord Tywin was lacking.

—————

Lord Tywin had been contemplating when he realized you’d fallen asleep. He was removing his own coat when he looked over and noticed your closed eyes. For a moment, he thought that perhaps you were just resting, but the slow pattern of your breathing was unmistakable. Yes, you were asleep. So what was he to do?

Should he wake you? Let you sleep in the grass? Well, he knew he ought to move you onto your bedrolls, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do so without waking you, and that was the dilemma. Plus, what if you woke up while he was attempting to move you? The last thing he wanted to do was freak you out or make you uncomfortable, especially after what you had revealed to him several weeks ago.

While contemplating what to do, however, he couldn’t resist the urge to admire you. Lord Tywin had met plenty of women in his life, and yet you were certainly quite unique to him. All the Tyrell women seemed to have a certain wit to them that was impossible not to admire, or at the very least respect.

He certainly knew you better than he knew any of your family, and he distrusted you significantly less than them. Well, maybe he distrusted you more than your father and brother, but who could blame him? The men of Highgarden certainly paled in comparison to its women. And his opinion on your brother was something else entirely, something you’d lecture him about eventually. It seemed you enjoyed doing that with quite a lot of subjects.

But right now, all he could do was admire your sleeping form. If he was honest, Lord Tywin was rather confused as to how you were not yet married. Because even if he did not want to admit it, he knew that you were, in fact, beautiful, incredibly intelligent, and well mannered. At least, you were with anybody besides him.

Any lord should certainly want such a woman at his side, though perhaps other men were not so confident and felt insecure next to you. It was also entirely possible that you’d given your father such a hard time with the subject that he’d simply not cared to do anything about it. Not yet, anyways. It seemed that you already suspected your days without a husband were numbered.

But that was neither here nor there, the only thing that mattered right now was that you were asleep. You looked so peaceful when you slept—to Lord Tywin at least. It was strange to see you this way, especially in sharp contrast to your usually bright and energetic person. It was also very different from the woman who told him off at every opportunity she got. You were a rather angry person, and Lord Tywin was not sure whether that was merely a reaction to him or a characteristic of yours, though he wished to know.

But at least for now, here in this moment, you were at peace. He was determined to keep it that way, bringing him back to his dilemma once again. What to do? He did not wish to leave you in the grass, he had at least decided on that. That narrowed it down to two options for him: wake you, or pray you did not wake up as he carried you to your bedrolls.

Lord Tywin’s mind felt cloudy as he debated it, but after pondering for a few moments more, he felt his nervous figure involuntarily moving closer to your sleeping one. Before he had time to rethink what he was doing, he gently slid one hand under your back. When you remained asleep, he exhaled with relief and carefully continued. His other hand came under your knees, and slowly but surely, he lifted you from the ground. It was only a few steps to your bedrolls, and his muscled arms did perfectly fine with your weight, even despite having carried around deer carcasses all day. Plus, he much rather preferred this to some dead animal, for you did not stink that way. You actually smelled quite nice, with a somewhat floral scent as befitted a Tyrell.

Lord Tywin was careful as he set you down, placing your legs first. He kept his hand under your head, preventing it from hitting the ground with any real force as he lowered the rest of your body. He slowly removed his hands, sighing out when he observed that you were still soundly asleep. He’d moved you successfully, thank the gods.

Lord Tywin reached down and covered you in your blanket, which based on the material probably only provided modest protection from the cold at best. Well, you were from Highgarden, why would you need heavy blankets in your saddlebag? That was what he reasoned, at least.

Not wanting you to be cold, Lord Tywin got up and grabbed one of his own blankets. One would be enough for him, for he could always put his coat back on if he needed to. He came back to your bedrolls again, kneeling down before you.

Gently, and what another person might describe as rather sweetly, he brought the blanket over you, making sure that it trapped in as much heat as possible. His eyes scanned over your sleeping form once more to check that everything was alright. When he decided it was, a sudden urge gripped him.

Lord Tywin could not explain what in the seven hells possessed him, but he found himself reaching toward your head, softly running a hand over your hair. The feeling made his stomach tighten, and that alone made him vastly uncomfortable. What was he doing?

He exhaled as his jaw flexed forward, his eyebrows already furrowed together just as they commonly were. Lord Tywin moved from your side and resigned to his own bedrolls, hoping to let the odd feeling pass in his sleep. When he woke in the morning and set his eyes upon you, however, that feeling would only take a few moments to return. And gods, as hard as he would try, it would not go away.

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ykiwrite · 2 years ago

Text

like heaven

desc: prom and jenna

"A moment you will never forget" were the words describing the upcoming prom night. At least, in your mothers words.

To you, on the other hand, it was quite stressful. Decisions, dresses, suits, friends wanting your opinion on their own looks. It can be a lot but hopefully worth it to finish the year.

"I don't know. What about this one?" marked the 100th time you asked Jenna the exact same question today.

Spending the evening in a café both of you marked as yours, where she can escape hectic actors life. Jenna was way too occupied making you yet another Spotify playlist with her notorious headphones on. Even so, she looked up from her phone to see what was already expected.

Another potential candidate to represent a dress of yours but not the last. "Hmmm, model looks nice but not the color though."

Letting out an exhausted sigh as your head fell on the table. "I'll go with the one we liked in the beginning. I don't care anymore, there's too much of them."

"I told you, the first one was the winner but you didn't listen" she commented adding a song of your liking that will fit perfectly on the list.

"Besides," switching from sprawling on the bench to looking straight at you, "who are you dancing with?"

"I have no idea. Probably some guy since it's a must sadly" trying to get everything out of your coffee that's surviving on last breaths.

"Mhm, we all know who's the first in line," stated coldly like it was matter of a fact. Not sure yourself, you wondered "We do? Who is it then?"

Blessing you with a disapproving look, "It's obviously that guy who you turned down four times but nothing will stop him from fifth." Now remembering all of his attempts had you saying confidently, "Ohhh, him? Yeah, he is a possible suspect but i'll tell him no as usual."

Not satisfied with the answer, Jenna's smile that was on display the entire time due to being too proud of her playlist making skills was no more.

Dropping the phone on the table, taking off headphones, she leaned her figure over the table leaving no distance between each other faces.

With a click of her tongue she whispered, "I guess i'll just have to show up and sort it out myself then." Eyes darting up and down your face making it quite difficult to form a normal sentence.

Picking up on it, she continued "Does prom accept outsiders?"

"Yeah, i guess. I mean, it does." Almost fully closing the left distance you pulled away from her with a raised brow. "Jenna, what are you on about?"

Copying your movements and backing off but not before sending you a smile that holds no good intentions, "I say let me be your dance for the night."

"I don't know why i let you with me" you let your regret be known glancing at every face that surrounded your table. Most didn't even fit, having to bring extra chairs making the atmosphere cramped.

Jenna turned to you with full attention like she heard the most worthy thing this whole night unlike your friends interviewing her for the past hour.

"No you don't, you love it."

"No one expected me to have an actor of a girlfriend, you know? You can see it's a shocker, the table is full" gesturing around with your hand.

"Yeah." she trailed off for a moment watching the dancefloor getting busier. Seeing the second person coming up to the two of you, asking her to dance was predictable enough considering just her.

"No, sorry, i have someone to dance with." Grabbing your free hand that made you follow her wherever she's heading to as you usually do. Pulling you closer, shoulder to shoulder, she let you know "I'm getting bored plus i promised you this, right?"

To say you wandered off in a crowd that had all eyes on you would be an understatement. Both of you got lost but in the best way possible. Not an expert yourself with shallow talent, Jenna guided you like she always does. Steps, posture, rhythm, with patience.

Your head lowered and hands rested on her shoulders carefully making sure you are doing the right thing.

"You know i don't care about anyone else," not too confident in raising your own head, still acting out your focus below.

"What do you mean?"

Your actions slowed, trying to come up with an excuse if it wasn't for Jenna interrupting jarred train of thoughts, burning stare that you almost won against until you felt her raising your chin softly.

"It's just you that i want in this entire room of people."

Jenna almost lost it all but not accepting defeat, at least not in front of a crowded room. Breathless without realizing it, hoping her suggestion works.

"Let's go home."

notes: idk what is this but its inspired by true story btw, jenna was on my prom night so this is just recreation of events (source: trust me)

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine

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bumblingest-bee · 6 months ago

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Out of all assassins from titular musical who do you think is the "most sympathetic" and the "most worst"?

oooh that's a really really good question. setting aside personal opinion for the moment (i'll get to it promise!), one thing i find interesting about assassins is that it doesn't necessarily ask us to sympathize with the characters, but just to consider them as they're presented to us and sit with whatever conclusions we draw from that on our own.

that being said the show does present some as more sympathetic than others imo. (there's no such thing as an unbiased narrative, no matter how hard you try!) for example czolgosz is never directly condemned by the balladeer unlike, say, booth (kind of balancing the audience's immediate resistance to a character like booth). it also neutralizes oswald quite a bit by taking away his agency in the actual assassination, which i think is a very intentional way to let the audience relate to him in that final scene.

anyways! so who do i think is the most/least sympathetic in the show? i'd say the "worst" is booth because he's purely ideologically motivated by hatred. aside from whether you think he was mentally ill in real life, as a character he's presented as sane, if a little unhinged. someone like guiteau, who's obviously not in his right mind, can be pitied. but booth? he's calculated and manipulative and even aside from the assassination he spends most of the show being a total asshole. (but he's very very entertaining while doing it lol)

as for my most sympathetic? lynette squeaky fromme. no, seriously.

because the thing about assassins, as i mentioned earlier, is that we as the audience aren't necessarily meant to make moral judgements. we're meant to consider the assassins as people like us.

if i was taking "sympathetic" to mean the most morally justifiable, or if we were talking in terms of real life rather than fiction, i'd say czolgosz (or even one of the assassins who was obviously mentally ill and unable to make moral decisions). but the point of assassins is not to morally justify the characters. it's to see ourselves in the characters. and that's meant to scare us.

i see myself in squeaky. i feel for her! even though she's largely a comic character, she's a poignant one. she's desperately lonely and insecure. at her core, she's still a frightened teenage girl who wants above all things to be loved. that's what i sympathize with. but she's willing to do awful things to get that love. and that's what scares me.

the great thing about assassins is it doesn't force you to sympathize with these people, but it gives you permission to. it can show you the parts of yourself that you don't normally want to look at, and that's a powerful thing to see if you let it.

#bee posts nonsense #ask #sorry this was a whole essay im just giggling kicking my feet over getting an ask about assassins #assassins musical #theatre

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littlekohai77 · 1 year ago

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MINORS DNI 🔞🔞

This game is very much.... Uh... Steamy. At least 16+ for sure.

Anyway there is this new otome game out and it's called ✨What In HELL Is Bad✨

And I've had it on pre order (is that what you call it?) But didn't have the time to really open it up and explore the insides.

So let's do this together. Hopefully I can find it in myself to make fanfic on this cause I've been on the block for months.

*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･��ﾟ･*

That is an extraordinarily distinct shape each of these countries have. That's quite fun. :D

So little information that I got after clicking on them,

𝑨𝒃𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒐𝒏: This is a region that Asmodeus rules. It's a place where lewd and inappropriate things are quite the norm and you can see people doing the forbidden tango in a Walmart parking lot apparently. Just very normal you see? This is also the place where lunatic devils gather apparently. So... Psych ward here is top notch I guess.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕: This place is hell but not really (not sure what that means) and is ruled over by Lucifer but he isn't the king. Not really. He's more of... A person who just controls things... Dictator?? The description had a lot of yes but nos. And devils who gather here are apparently very hurt... Wounded. Emotionally maybe? Maybe this place has great therapy centers.

𝑵𝒊𝒇𝒍𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒎: This place is very military oriented and very much like a power house which is a surprise considering this place is ruled over by Belphegor, who btw is the demon of sloth. People of this place don't go anywhere alone and always move in groups (hopefully that's different when going to the bathroom) and they have great military power and a lot of the population is very physically stronge and... Solid.

𝑨𝒃𝒚𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒔: The most chill and fun place apparently. Full of casinos and entertainment shit. Didn't find this place too interesting. Apparently the people here get piercings from Beelzebub (the ruler here) to prove that they are a citizen? Which is kinda random but seems like a fun tradition, I would like to know the history behind that. And Beelzebub is apparently never around. Feels like bro doesn't wanna pay child support.

𝑮𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒂: Ruled by Satan. People here have a bicker gang type of aesthetic and they're the most kindeat demons you could encounter in hell but they do have a horrible temper and anger issues. Also this place is famous for having great sceneries. Which is great :)

𝑻𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒔: This place is by far the most advanced in terms of science and technology. And is also the richest country. (Like the country literally looks like a slab of gold, what did you expect?) And this place is ruled over by, you guessed it, Mammon! This place has the highest level of freedom and the people here trust Mammon a lot.

𝑯𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒔: Now... This place honestly sounded lowkey like a cult. Cause killing yourself to prove loyalty is pretty.. Um hardcore. Also this place is the most scary and terrifying place in hell.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

When I hit that side of my screen, the one that has my front camera, is makes this bouing bouing sound. I'm not bothered by it but I'm intrigued for why that is happening. Is there a chance there are gonna be other countries on the other ends?

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

Ok that's very nice of them. To include both genders but it would've been even more great if they included a non binary option. Just a little more inclusivity for people who are non binary to feel more comfortable when playing. But again, this much of an option is a great improvement too, cause it's rare to see something like this, at least for me as most have she/her and the mcs tend to be female by default. (Unlike in Obey me)

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

I promise I chose the most non inappropriate options. And I'm not upset with this result. I've always liked the design of his eyes. I'll confirm though that their description of me couldn't be further from the truth.

*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*

Thank you for reading this :)

I hope you enjoyed it!

#what in hell is bad #new otome game #otome #otome guys #otome games #otome game #otome boys #wihib #demons #hell #seven deadly sins #lucifer #leviathan #satan #beelzebub #belphegor #mommon #asmodeus #angels

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hannahssimblr · 8 months ago

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Chapter Twenty-Seven

I cross my legs. I uncross them. I look down at my sandals, Birkenstocks. The inner soles are stained dark from use in the shape of my feet, and I consider whether or not this is disgusting. Sometimes I don’t know what’s acceptable or unacceptable to others, and whether sweat stained Birkenstocks would fall into that category. I wish I’d worn something else, something more serious, perhaps. The clock on the wall is the same one my aunt has in her kitchen, and I look at it next because there’s a man sitting opposite me and I don’t want to look at him. The door of the office swings open and a timid seeming woman comes out. Neither of us looks at her either.

“Evelyn Kilbride?” Comes a voice from the doorway.

“Yep,” I say, whisper really, even though the word doesn’t even come out so I shouldn’t have bothered, and I get up and I go inside.

It’s not unlike the counsellor’s office from secondary school, bookcases, files, a rug that feels soft underfoot, two chairs facing each other. July sunshine streams in from the window beside the seat I choose and instantly heats my head. I fidget and press my fingers into a tense spot at the back of my neck.

“Would you like to close the blinds?” Helen, I think that’s her name, settles into the seat across.

“It’s okay.”

“If you’re feeling too warm or uncomfortable at all during the session we can adjust, don’t be shy to ask for anything you want, including water at any point, or a cup of tea.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

She gives me a warm smile, “So Evelyn, I’m very glad to meet you, and thank you for coming to this session with me today, you know the hardest thing to do is to reach out to someone, and you’ve already done that part, so that’s just wonderful.”

“Mm,” She’s very motherly, I think, dressed in a green jumper despite the weather, with short greying hair that curls around her ears and over the sides of her wire frame glasses. I wonder if she intentionally dresses like a person who knits and bakes scones because there’s some research study that proves that people are more likely to open up to motherly types or if she’s really just like this all the time.

“So how can I help you today? Is there something on your mind that you’d like to talk about, or even any questions you have?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve done something like this, to be honest.”

“It’s normal to feel a bit uncertain when coming to a conversation like this for the first time, or even the first time in a little while. You can share as much or as little as you feel comfortable with, but maybe today, just to get us started, could you tell me something that’s been on your mind lately? Maybe a challenge you’re facing or a particular emotion you’ve been feeling?”

“Um,” my eyes slide away from hers and onto the floor, because her eyes are too empathetic, too gently encouraging and I think I’d rather eye the rug for a while. “Well I suppose I’ve always sort of felt like I have something wrong with me.”

“Those feelings are very common, Evelyn, but that doesn’t make them any less challenging to those who experience them. When you say you feel like there’s something wrong with you, can you tell me more about that? Is there a particular aspect about yourself that bothers you?”

“It’s just that… Well, when good things happen in my life, like, you know, I succeed at something, get into the college I wanted, travel, earn money or do any of the other things I’ve always wished for, they make me happy for a while, and then eventually the happiness always fades away and I go back to this state where I hate myself and I feel awful all of the time and nothing seems to lift that mood.”

“How long have you been experiencing these negative feelings?”

“I don’t know, since I was like, ten, maybe? Younger. I can’t really remember not feeling this way honestly, I think it’s just how I’m made.”

“You know,” Helen leans back thoughtfully, “It might feel like I’m stating the obvious a little bit, but a lot of our negative feelings and emotions stem from childhood. Childhood experiences have a profound impact on our emotional well-being as adults. What was your home life like as you were growing up?”

“It was alright, we got by, I suppose, we never had a whole lot of money but at the same time I was never really wanting for anything either-”

“And your parents?”

I laugh, “They’re alright. My dad is fond of the drink, but he’s harmless about it, I suppose. And my mam’s a bit high strung. She likes things to be perfect and I suppose… I suppose like, I found that a bit hard at times. I felt like there was no way to please her, really, like no matter what I did to help out I’d always just do it the wrong way. It was really hard to fit into the boxes that she wanted me to, I’m just very different from her. Like our minds work differently and I know that I’ll never be able to relate to her, or her to me.”

“Have you tried to speak with her about how you felt as a child?”

“No, we don’t have that kind of relationship. I can’t even imagine talking to her about a thing like that. I don’t know how that’d go down, she’d like, shrug me off, maybe, or say I was being dramatic. She always thought I was dramatic in my emotions.”

“How so?”

“Because I get upset a lot, and I think that my mind goes to places that she can’t understand. I think that for her everything is very black and white, do you know what I mean? For me it’s very hard to let things go, if I’ve been hurt by something or I feel annoyed at a person, I hold onto things for a very very long time, and I think them over again and again until I’m in a spin. She doesn’t get that. Her advice is always like, ‘stop thinking about it’ as though that’s something that’s possible for me to do, and then she gets annoyed with me when I’m still upset afterwards. We don’t make sense to each other in that regard so I’ve stopped opening up to her about things in my life. She actually barely knows anything about me anymore, and it’s not a terrible, awful thing either. Our relationship is fine, we just don’t connect in that way.”

“Well it sounds to me as though her desire for perfection, her desire, perhaps, for a perfect daughter has created a lot of pressure for you to meet certain expectations. Not just inside the home but outside of it too, into your adult life. I see this often, you know, children from pressured home environments who grow up into adults who struggle with feelings of never fitting in. It can have a significant impact on a person’s self perception.”

“Yes well, I’ve never felt like I’ve really belonged anywhere, to be honest.”

“Can you talk me through that a little bit? Any examples of feeling this way?”

“Well, obviously in secondary school, I hated it there, and primary school too, I just always felt like everyone was talking about me behind my back, even though I bet they weren’t. And then later on too, in college I thought I could try and alleviate that feeling by trying really hard to fit in with a crowd there that really weren’t right for me, and it was all so stupid, and I suppose I’ve learned my lesson about trying to be someone I’m not but still, now I’m back to this weird purgatory, where I feel like I’m a girl just floating around with nowhere to land, and feeling nothing, and things that should bring me joy just don’t anymore.”

“Like what things?”

I sigh, “Well, I have a boyfriend.”

Helen’s eyebrows go up as though this is the kind of thing she hears about all the time, “Hmm, yes?”

“He’s amazing. He’s kind and funny and thoughtful, and he takes care of me and I never annoy him, and no matter how much we hang out we never get tired of each other, and not that it’s that important but he’s so handsome and tall and clever and artistic, and he cooks so well, and he loves me, like, he’s actually in love with me,” I take a breath, “But he doesn’t stop me from being sad.”

“Go on.”

“I feel like I pursued him for so long, you know? We met years ago, when I was only seventeen and he was older and so popular and effortless and everything he did was amazing to me, and I suppose I thought that I was so useless that he’d never like me back. But it was so hard to move on and I just couldn’t get past him. It was like every other boy had to measure up to him somehow but it was impossible to, because he was already perfect in my head. And then this year we finally got together, and I was so happy, like, elated. Happier than I can ever remember being, and it was because I’d achieved something. I’d proved to myself that someone like him would like someone like me, and that meant that I was a worthy person. But it’s like, I suppose he was aspirational, does that make sense?”

“In that the reality doesn’t live up to the fantasy that you’d pictured during the years before you were a couple?”

“It’s not that,” I chew on my lip, “He’s great, like, really, but I think that I believed he’d bring an end to the badness in my life, or something like that. As though I expected that if he were to choose me it’d prove that I was a valuable person and…” I break off because of the discomfort bubbling inside me. “Um.”

Helen smiles knowingly, “He hasn’t proved that to you after all?”

“No, and it’s like…” I inhale deeply when I realise I might begin to cry, “It’s actually more like… the things I’m thinking are more… I’m kind of starting to think that he’s the problem instead.”

“What do you mean by ‘he’s the problem’?”

“I’m starting to believe that he’s delusional.”

“I see. Delusional for loving you, when you consider yourself to be unlovable.”

I nod and make a swipe for the tissues on the little table next to me, “I’m going to ruin it,” I say. “I have no doubt.”

“Evelyn,” Helen begins, and I interrupt her.

“Evie.”

“You prefer to go by Evie?”

“Yeah,” I dab my nose and am hit by the absurdity of the fact that I’m spilling my deepest feelings to a woman who doesn’t even know the name I go by. “Nobody calls me Evelyn.”

“I wasn’t aware of that. I’ll call you Evie from now on.”

“Thanks.”

“Evie, you know that it makes a lot of sense why you’re feeling these things, but I know that the knowledge of that won’t make them feel much easier. I’m certain that your boyfriend sees endless things about you that he considers lovable, and that he’s right in thinking them. I think it might be useful to talk about the things that you love about yourself. Can you think of anything at all that you’d like to share with me?”

“Good things about me?”

“Yes, anything you can think of.”

“Um,” I trace my fingers along the piping on the arm of the chair and stare at the hangnail on my thumb. My fingernails aren’t very nice, I think. They’re brittle and chewed down to the pink parts, and my nail varnish has chipped off along the edges leaving ragged patches of black in the centre. I actually don’t have very attractive hands at all.

Helen prompts me gently. “Do you have some close friends?”

“Yeah I suppose.”

“Think of them then, what do you think they’d say are your best qualities?”

I struggle to think, which frustrates me. It really shouldn’t be hard, but when I put myself in Claire’s shoes I can only imagine her pitying me and imagine that she thinks I’m unhinged, dependent on alcohol to function socially and in constant need of management to stay on track. “They might say I’m funny,” I manage halfheartedly.

“Well a sense of humour is a wonderful thing. You know, some of my favourite friends are the ones who can make me laugh. It’s a quality that not everyone is blessed with,” She smiles warmly, “Can you think of anything else?”

I hesitate, “I’m very different from my friends I think, I can’t imagine what they’d say.”

“Would they say that you’re a good listener? There for them when they’re going through tough times?”

I burst into tears, “There’s something so wrong with me. I can’t think of a single fucking thing I like about myself.” I clutch a fistful of tissues and cram them against my face, stabbing them against my eyes with a ferocity that privately surprises me. I’m enraged by myself for my blatant uselessness. I hate myself so much that I can’t even drag one miserable forgiving thought out of my head. “Sometimes I honestly wish that I was dead.”

I hadn’t realised that I’d spoken that part aloud until Helen responds, “That’s a very big feeling to deal with, Evie. I’m so sorry that you’re struggling so much. If you feel able, could you talk me through that a little bit more?”

I’m not sure I can talk at all, I’m too busy wailing into fistfuls of tissues, squeezing my eyes and baring my teeth, feeling like I might retch from the shuddering, heaving sobs that tear through my body. “I don’t want to kill myself,” I clarify, “But I think about dying sometimes, and how if I was dead then I’d have no more awful feelings. I…” I heave a breath into my lungs, “I get these really vivid, violent thoughts sometimes, about falling down stairs and cracking my skull against the floor, or tumbling down a cliff and bouncing from rock to rock down into the sea until it’s all over. I don’t know why. It’s not like i think I’m going to jump and kill myself, I’m not, I don’t want to go through with it but I think sometimes that if something happened to me, or if I just never woke up then I’d be fine with it.”

“Mm,” Helen says, and she’s so calm that it’s weird to me. How can she listen to someone saying that they want to die without alarm? She’s clearly in the presence of a freak, so why isn’t she acting like it? I attempt something else I think will be shocking to her.

“When I was sixteen I was doing the dishes in the kitchen and I dragged a knife over my arm. It wasn’t even premeditated. I just saw the knife and I did it, I wanted to see if it’d make me feel anything at all. It was too blunt to break the skin, and then I felt ten times stupider because I’d not even been able to do something basic like cut myself.” I glance at her again to see how she reacts to that, but still, she’s calm. “I’ve never said that out loud before.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

“Do you think I’m fucked up beyond repair?”

“Do you want me to think that?”

“Doing things like that aren’t normal.”

“It’s common, believe it or not. I see countless young people who feel the same as you do, you’re not a strange person, or broken, or stupid or any of the other words you’ve used to describe yourself. You’re a normal young woman trying to navigate the enormous pressures of your world. You’re not irreparable, Evie, in fact you’re far from it, and I think you’re going to be okay.”

“Alright,” I say, and then I sit there contemplating how embarrassing it is to sob in front of a stranger while she writes something in her notebook, and then eventually I feel compelled to apologise.

“There’s no need to be sorry,” Helen doesn’t look up.

“I feel stupid for crying.”

“It’s perfectly normal to cry.”

I wonder what she thinks of me. What things she’s writing about me in her notebook. Maybe that I’m highly emotional, depressed, in need of serious medical intervention if I can be expected to function normally in society. Will she make me take pills? I don’t think I want to be on something that strips a piece of me away and makes me numb. “Are you going to prescribe me medication?” I say.

“We’re going to look at options for you,” Helen says, and I don’t remotely know what those options might be. I don’t ask.

“Alright,” I say.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky girl part 3 #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #tw: mental health #tw: sucidal thoughts #tw: self harm

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skinnytuna · 1 year ago

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I really really like that long post you did about making art. especially: 'i have somehow convinced myself that, if i maybe try a little bit, not exceptionally hard, but only a little bit, maybe i will somehow magically be good enough and worthy of critical praise.'

I spend all my time thinking about the beautiful or ""groundbreaking"" things I would make but no time actually doing it. and then when I attempt to create something the actual discomfort of physically drawing, writing or even coding is so unlike the idealised version in my brain that I have to stop because it is so frustrating. I wish I could be the sort of person who decides to spend hours upon hours perfecting a craft. but I just cant. weirdly I've come to terms with it. theres a whole world of art that exists just for me in my head. maybe one day ill be able to translate it into reality. but for now, im just going to be happy with the dual presence of my shitty real art and my lovely art thats just for me.

(also: I dont think your posts are lacking. the way you use language is unexpected and hilarious. I like it a lot.)

we should have a word for the terminal need for validation but lack of any and all discipline ... seems like a relatively new phenomena. i'm considering the strong possibility that it's a widespread result as the death of the "hobby"... however many years ago i imagine it was normal to just do something for yourself, because you love doing it. in fact i see a lot of my friends parents still doing stuff such as this.

i have a lot of friends whose dads make eps and albums for fun. for them only. no wishing on a star for it to blow up overnight. none of that. security in the quality of it. security in how far it probably won't reach. now that security, of course, could just come with age. but i suspect there's a generational parasite.

we were all raised with Numbers. the follower count, the like count, these are burned into our psyche. a neurosis coiled tightly around an objective metric of validation. a handful of years ago such a neurosis couldn't even exist! and it especially couldn't exist in a matter of seconds or minutes. your value as a person is a pair of dice that you roll and you snatch them back the moment you see snake eyes. almost all of the amateur art, music, writing we are exposed to has a number right under it. you don't get to evaluate it yourself. there is immediately a pavlovian connection, i like this thing, this thing has this number attached to it, if i can get a number like that i'm worthy of coexisting with this thing.

there's an almost instant dissociation between the craft, the skill, the time, and the FRUIT. what you get back. we are almost trained to care more about how popular something is than how good it is. not like, hollywood productions, or Columbia Records' chart topping album by a thirty something with A&R parents, but how popular someone just like you is on the internet. a plausible professional with a twitter account who draws whatever they want. someone you could relate to. someone you could be.

but because you want the numbers you skip the learning... you make something and put it out. and you keep doing this. your learning is public, your honing of the craft is documented before an audience of hopefully thousands. and you see what they respond to. and their responses steer the direction of your learning. you never have an opportunity to make something shitty. make something no one likes. experiment. you just keep feeding the computer. and it works until the point where you want to do something else, or something real, or something better, or something serious, and realize you don't know how. and you're like Fuck Shit why did I hustle instead of learning in peace.

but of course this is all by design. the numbers can't teach themselves more numbers if you doodle in your sketchbook and don't show anyone. i'm not sure if it was ever a specific person's idea to make everyone's entire life a performance, but whoever engineered it did a damn fine job. takes a sledgehammer to break out of. oh well ! in a few generations i'm sure all of our skin will have glare dampeners evolved specifically to vlog better with. and everyone will have forgotten what it's like to do something in your room, by yourself, because you like to do it

#forgot i had a tumblr im back hello

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purrincess-chat · 21 days ago

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2, 8, 22, 24

2. A character whose pov you're currently exploring

I've mentioned before, but I've recently branched into writing for the Legend of Zelda fandom. I've been writing a fic that takes place post-breath of the wild, but pre-tears of the kingdom kind of bridging the gap there. It's mostly from Zelda's pov, so I've been having fun exploring that because the setting is so vastly different to ML and Zelda herself is unlike any character I've written before. It's been fun. As for ML, I'm working on a few fics from Adrien's pov lately and dissecting him like a bug. (pun intended)

8. If you had to write a sequel to a fic, you'd write one for...

I'm doing that too! I'm literally writing a sequel fic to Marinette Dupain-Cheng's Spite Playlist right now! It follows the aftermath of Adrien finding out his father was Hawkmoth when they defeated him and how Adrien recuperates and works through his childhood trauma and establishes his own identity in the world.

22. Do you ever worry about public reaction to what you're writing? How do you get past that?

Considering I was once an avid salt-fic writer in peak salt time, I don't know that I ever have worried about public reaction XD But I think that just boils down to personality and personal philosophy. I fundamentally understand that not everyone is for me, and I'm not for everyone. If someone doesn't like something I've written (and there have been people who definitely haven't jived with what I've written), then they don't have to read it. But ultimately I just write what I want to see and read, so idc if no one else likes it bc I do. I also don't tend to write things that are too controversial or dealing with anything too egregiously heavy. I suppose Adrien's Playlist may tote the line just dealing with his mental health issues and trauma, but even that isn't too dark I would say. So, on that front, I can't really help if that's your dilemma. But I'd say fandom is pretty robust with the idea of don't like, don't read, and anyone seriously bullying someone for writing completely normal fanfic tends to get backlash more than the writer they're bullying. Bc it's just rude.

So, idk if that really helps you any. I've just always kind of not given a fuck, so I just do what I want...

24. How do you recharge when you're not feeling creative?

Oooo so this question really depends on the reason. But in general I'd say give yourself some space from what you're working on. Go for a walk, take a few days off, see your friends and family. Walk completely away from it for a brief period of time. When you come back, read back over what you had and try to find the spot that is tripping you up or holding you back and identify why. Is it because you've written yourself into a corner? Do you not know what happens next? Do you just not like the current direction of the story? The reason behind it will determine how you move forward. If you've written yourself into a corner or just don't like what you have, cut a chunk from what you've recently written back to a point where you can take it a new direction. You don't have to delete it, just paste that somewhere else and try something else. Maybe take time to plan out what happens next, even minimally. Skip ahead to the next thing you can picture and fill in the gap later.

If, on the other hand, your issue isn't so much writer's block, but just a lack of drive to create at all, take a break. Maybe you're stressed and need to decompress for a while. When I find myself in dry patches for ideas, I find it helpful to consume other forms of media or literature that are completely unrelated to what I'm working on. Sometimes we get stuck in a rut when we are surrounded by the same things all the time and our brains just need a little something different to spark new ideas. I find that flipping between LoZ and ML is a good thing for me because the two are so different from one another.

My issues as of late is not so much lack of creativity as it is lack of time to be creative, which sometimes you just have to power through. I chose to go to grad school, so this is really on me.

#cat replies #asks #ask game #writers asks

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originalgenshinscenarios · 2 years ago

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Hi, could I request for matchup if you have time? Otherwise it's ok:)

I'm bi and would prefer a girl from either Inazuma or Liyue(+18)

I am generally a very passive and quiet person because of my depression and anxiety. I always feel like I am obligated to help people even if I have to push myself by exceeding my limits and when I am unable to do so I just feel very guilty. I don't really have friend because internally, I guess I just cant accept the fact that people make friends because of the ulterior motives they have and it just becomes a very fake and transactional relationship. I think in a relationship, some things I would want the other party to have are... being able to have a genuine connection and also being very mature, understanding and supportive since I have a very big fear of coming off as too affectionate or clingy because I get comfort from physical affection. I also like to give and take care pf other people compared to them taking care of me because I feel like I'm being an additional burden to them when I'm on the receiving end of things.

As someone who really struggles with the social aspect of life even if I like doing sports, I don't really like to hang out with loud people and most of the time if I end up having a conversation with someone, it's always on a very deep and emotional level and I find conversations like this very interesting because it really allows me to think about the many possibilities as well as being able to understand and empathise with other people alot easier just because I am very emotionally sensitive. I also tend to overthink alot because of how I was brought up and all the trauma that is just laid on me just kind of takes a toll mentally. All in all, I end up being a very quiet person because I am afraid to be vulnerable and would rather help others out in any way instead of letting people do the same for me.

I was thinking of one match but when I read to one point I sort of changed my mind and it sort of gave me a much better match in mind instead lol

This is a part of 3x Valentines event (All slots are taken)

I match you with...

Kuki Shinobu

Just like you she's very helpful, but unlike you she knows when to accept help. So she tries to help you be more comfortable with the idea of others just wanting to support you for the sake of it.

It takes time to recognize that it's normal to ask for help, and you're everything but a burden. Especially to her.

She considered introducing you to the gang so you could see for yourself that people don't always befriend each other to get something out of it... But with how the boys act she doesn't think you'd be comfortable meeting them yet. Especially with how loud their leader is.

Should you show your interest though, she wouldn't be against it. She'd only make sure to have a talk with everyone so they wouldn't act in a way that'd make you uncomfortable.

She's extremely mature and understanding, although she tends to be tough on the outside, she's actually very sweet and affectionate on the inside.

So, knowing you tend to get self conscious when you initiate affection while also craving it, she usually makes sure to start it herself. Both because she wants it, and because she wants you to feel loved.

She always listens to you, and when your conversations get deep she helps you think through your struggles. It's not one sided of course, she doesn't try to hide her burdens from you. Since talking to you about them does make her feel more at peace.

~Mod Lisa

#3x valentines #kuki shinobu x reader #kuki shinobu #shinobu kuki #shinobu genshin impact #shinobu x reader #shinobu gi #Shinobu #Matches #Matchup #Matchups

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zombvibes · 2 years ago

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Now I know I said multiple times that I wasn't going to talk about teammateswap's weird route until the au account was done but...SCREW IT CAN'T KEEP THIS INFO IN MY BRAIN ANYMORE.

Before I start, I'm not good at explaining myself nor my ideas so if nothing make sense...well that's half the reason. The other half is because the weird route is half baked and not completely thought out yet. (Just like everything else in this god forsaken au!!! YIPPEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!)

Ok I'll start rambling now!

(WARNING THIS IS LONG.....)

SIIIIIIKE I'm giving you some context first so you can understand some things (hopefully...fingers crossed) :

Noelle isn't that trusting of a person and mostly keeps to herself. Despite how personable she seems, she never really had any friends aside from Kris and Berdly. Even then, she wouldn't really consider them friends. More like close acquaintances. (Yes Catti, and Jockington aren't friends with Noelle in this au. She knows them on an acquaintance level however this applies to the other classmates too.) The only people she could (mostly) trust are her family and Kris (and...kind of Berdly but barely). Kris and Noelle weren't close AT ALL when they were kids due to her being even MORE untrusting and aloof than she is currently. She eventually warmed up to Kris and the rest of the Dreemurrs because of Dess and Rudy getting her out of her shell (though not by much). Kris and Noelle have gotten to know each other recently (most likely after Dess disappeared) so they don't know a lot about each other but are currently friendly with each other.

Now unlike Kris, Berdly DID actually knew Noelle from childhood. This is mostly because Berdly just...kinda followed her around everywhere she went. (Which if you couldn't tell is still the case in present day.) He cared about being seen as intelligent but had terrible grades. Sooo why not attach yourself to the smartest girl in class and get help from her? I'll stop here since uh...I mean.....their dynamic is the same. And I don't have anything else to add that's relevant SOOO. ANYWAYS.

When I was referring to tms!Noelle being personable this is about pre-chapter 2 Noelle. She's a dickhead we know this by now c'mon...She used to put on this "goody-two-shoes A+ student Teacher's pet" act to please everyone. Which...I sadly will have to talk about another time. Just keep the "Everyone's expectations for ME are so high now...What am I going to do once I go somewhere without her?" quote from Berdly's monologue in mind for now. It's semi-important.

OK COOL GOT IT? GOT THAT? COOL. I'LL START FOR REAL THIS TIME :

I'd think that tms!weird route will pretty much play out similarly to the original weird route. So I won't be talking about that all too much? Especially since I'm not sure how it'll go currently.

I, however, will talk about Noelle's powers instead! I already talked about her powers a little bit in this post but I'll just say it again. So you know how in the original weird route Noelle freezes the enemies? In teammateswap, Noelle...turns them into, uh, icicle kebabs. Icicles pop up from the ground and stabs the enemy from below. I was thinking about making the enemy TIRED or SLEEPY before doing that but I'm not sure how that would work. I *think* if you're in a fight with an enemy for long enough they become TIRED but I'm not entirely sure rn. When you get the thorn ring equivalent of Noelle's spear (which will be called the thorn spear and the freeze ring equivalent will be called freeze spear for simplicity), icicles with rain from the sky and pierce whoever is below the storm.

So...after hearing that some of you may be thinking "Hey. So. If you said that enemies get stabbed by icicles, does that mean.....Berdly.........." Yes. Berdly becomes swiss cheese. Anyways this is a great time to talk about Berdly's fight since it's the thing I've thought about the most!

Berdly's fight starts as normal (at least normal for weird route) : Kris and Noelle finds Berdly, Berdly gets worried for Noelle, Berdly pulls out weapon to protect Noelle, en garde, fight starts. So for the fight, you have to wait until he gets tired from using his magic and weapon (remember it's large and heavy). When that happens, he'll fall to the ground. And, uh, he then becomes swiss cheese.

OR. Does he?

If you cast the ice spell (which I will call icegrave, again for simplicity) before Berdly gets tired, he'll survive. He'll be scared shitless, but he'll survive. After icegrave wears off, Noelle falls to the ground and Berdly runs to her to see if she's ok. He shields her from Kris to make sure they don't hurt her. Noelle suddenly gets up, grabs Berdly's arm and drags hime to Queen's castle (her room). And Kris just stands there...in silence.

Another idea I had was, Berdly abandoning Noelle and running away (or well...TRYING to run away but then Getting Swiss Cheese'd™). Tbh...I may go with this idea. tms!Berdly being brave and protecting Noelle doesn't...seem right to me. If I do go with the first idea, Berdly would still be visible scared of Kris. Stuttering, shivering, crying and all. Berdly is NOT a brave guy.

Though during the fight, he desperately pleads with Noelle to come with him and desperately begs Kris to leave her alone. Nothing happens no matter how loud he gets...

ANOTHER idea I had is if Berdly survives, he still gets injured by an icicle (most likely stabbed in the eye, the one that's covered by hair, or the leg). But..again...not 100% sure.

OK SO BACK TO NOELLE AND KRIS, so tms!Noelle would resist more then the original and sometimes just does whatever she sees fit. She'd resist to the point where Kris would have to grab her by the arm and drag her everywhere they go. Though over time, grabbing by the arm becomes hand holding because Noelle is just now used to "getting dragged around" (but by this point she is just following Kris willingly). Which is...great. We love that. So great. (I'm being sarcastic. If you couldn't tell.) As for getting the freeze spear, Noelle multiple times was like "Hey, we can't afford that. Let's go. NOW." She doesn't kill the addison but instead steals the spear by trapping the addison in ice and running away laughing like a cartoon villian (originally, Noelle froze his legs and then ran away with the spear but...her weapon can't really do that so she just trapped them instead). This will stop after the 2nd/3rd mouse puzzle.

So. I assume some of you are wondering about the scene where Susie goes to Noelle's room. She still goes in by herself. But...they don't really...have a nice time together. (Not gonna be specific here since you, Kris and Ralsei don't know what happens in there.) I'll just say that she comes out of the room a little dejected. (She eventually goes back after the last Queen interaction.)

If Berdly lives, he'll come out of the room before Susie could go in. She jumps and wonders why he's in Noelle's room. Berdly, acting like his normal self, says that it's none of Susie's concern and brushes her off. She asks him if Noelle is ok. He pauses and enthusiastically says yes. He's only looking at Susie and ignores Kris as he leaves but not after glancing at them for a second. Susie and co then move on.

I think...I think that's all I'm going to say for now....there's more (obviously) but that's most of the weird route stuff I have! Hope that suffices for now.

#zombvibes never shuts up #TEAMMATESWAP - DR AU #I again apologize if nothing make sense I TRIED AAUUUGHHH #if there are unfinished sentences uhhh...it's because i was kinda jumping all over the place so sorry for thaatt #anyways um hope this is ok for now.#felt like i didn't say a lot...

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rin-and-jade · 1 year ago

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I think I may be a system and it’s making me feel scared bc I feel like I’m not real and my labels (like being lgbt) aren’t real enough as other people and I do not want to talk about myself like “my body is an 18 year old system” like talk about my body instead of me .. not be able to say online and irl “hi I’m (name) I’m (lgbt labels) and ex etc etc” but have to go “my body is 18 I’m a system here are their Intros and THEIR different labels” I know I am one person split into parts I am one whole person it just doesn’t feel like it bc that’s how the disorder is. I don’t have to use we/system/us I don’t have to call myself multiple or plural. I’m not separate people. I have a host maybe two of them. others rarely or don’t front. just pass influence and co con or whatever. I don’t ever want to be treated like multiple people because I’m not. I like my “hi im (name) I’m (lgbt labels) here are my interests and I happen to have this disorder so I feel like different people but all are me”

I want to say I’m (lgbt label) and that’s true for all of me. I have no reason to beleove otherwise. All parts of me are the real me and are one person it just doesn’t feel that way. how do I stop feeling scared and confused and bad about it all?? Is it possible to just do like I said and indeed be one person. do I have to do functional multiplicity or whatever do I have to indulge in labeling all of these parts I’m just a person who happens to have a disorder ? these are not people inside me it’s a symptom of a disorder . these are symptoms.

The clearer ask on top

Heres my thoughts: to address as a system or as a whole person is everyone's own preference. If you feel uncomfy saying being plural then there's no reason you can't address regularly like a normal person (just name, pronoun, and biological age). We also have parts who chose one from either two (introduce as plural or just the regular way) and i respected the choice,, especially when you prefer to address with "I happen to have this disorder so I feel like different people but all are me” and continuing along those lines.

Considering about symptoms.. i doubt the dissociated parts of ourselves is. Everyone has a multifaceted personality, singlets, who also have other sides of themselves are integrated unlike the situation in CDD. The real symptoms for having it are actually amnesia, usual basis of dissociation, identity confusion and alteration, as well as the disconnection with said facets, this also includes you also being a part/facet. Roles and applications (or pk bot) are just to better understand these different parts of yourself and thats ok for not wanting to use any, like how we don't use simplyplural.

Wether you need to achieve a fusion, or just go for functional multiplicity,, that needs to be discussed properly with the rest of your parts as i couldn't tell you whats the right thing to do (there is no right, just different preferences)

Before i end it right here, it's normal to not like being plural, and i know being plural can sometimes feel like life is being taken away from yourself as it is not just you that seems to be living here, there will also be lots of confusion, denial, and etc along the way. I wanted to say coming to terms and with acceptance too of what happened will help you a lot, this disorder is mainly developed to protect a child who went through debilitating trauma because i doubt it was bare-able to remember those bad emotions plus memories and have to function normally like nothing happened. I recommend you coming back to me if needed one day, hope this clears up anything you had asked.

- j

#did #actually did #did community #did system #did osdd #dissociative identity disorder #plural #sysblr #janswersask

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loftylockjaw · 11 months ago

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TIMING: Recent LOCATION: Xóchitl’s house PARTIES: Wyatt & Xóchitl SUMMARY: Wyatt finally gets around to surprising his friend from Boston with his appearance in her hometown, and the two reconnect in a few different ways. CONTENT WARNINGS: Wrspice (implied)

—

They’d met in Boston some years ago, but Xó hadn’t lived around those parts since she was a kid, so there was always significant time in between their chances to reconnect. Still, she was a fun person to be around and someone that Wyatt would consider a friend, so when he realized that his hunt for steadier fighting ring work was taking him right into the town she’d told him she was living in, of course he had to see her. He’d waited a few weeks, giving himself time enough to settle in, find a normal job, secure the other job, and generally make sure he was well put together before surprising her with a visit.

‘Heeey, guess who’s in your neck of the woods?!’ he’d texted her a few days back. She was shocked, naturally, but the two had quickly made plans to meet at her place for drinks, snacks, and catching up. Currently, the Cajun was stood outside her door, a bag in one hand that he’d filled with a couple bottles and some homemade appetizers, and an autumn-themed bouquet in the other. When she eventually pulled it open, a smile bloomed on his face that was perhaps even larger than the sunflower that sat front and center in the flower arrangement.

“Xó!” he exclaimed affectionately, laughing as he set down the insulated bag for a moment to reach in and hug her with one arm. “Been too long, young lady!”

—

Wyatt was an old friend (so old, she’d joked more than once, when they’d first met), and he was somehow in the same town that she’d grown up in, now. Been born in, at least. Xóchitl wasn’t sure if she could fully say that she’d grown up in a town that she’d left when she was eight years old.

But when he’d texted her and mentioned that he was here, she hadn’t had to think twice about agreeing to hang out. At her place. Which yes, maybe she’d made sure was extra clean (though it usually was – in case she needed to put it on the market suddenly, in case this town made her need to leave again), and maybe she’d also dressed herself up nicer than usual, with a shirt that was one of her less work-appropriate ones, but Wyatt was cute, and she was almost thirty (though she’d certainly tried to flirt with him even back home, back when she was just nineteen or twenty).

She’d heard him at the door and darted over, smile bright on her face. “Far too long, though you still look good, not that I’m surprised, but…” Xóchitl let her voice trail off. “Come on in. What do you think of the place? Decorated it all myself, though manman is an art curator still, so I think some of her talent rubbed off on me.” Even if the place looked more pristine than most homes, she had made every effort to choose decor that felt like her, felt good, and looked good, too.

—

“Ohh, flatterer,” Wyatt teased, sauntering into the home as his gaze raked it over a few times, smile still fixed firmly in place as his head started to bob in a nod. “Hell yeah, ma chérie, it looks great.” His gaze fell back on Xó and he extended the bouquet out to her, adding a cheeky, “Not unlike yourself,” that he paired with a quick wink.

Once she’d taken the flowers from him, he trailed after her toward the kitchen where she could procure a vase for them, and he could unpack their vittles for the evening. Carefully setting the plated and professional-looking dishes out along the counter, he explained what each one was as he went, then ended with the two bottles of wine he’d brought. He asked after the bottle opener and glasses so he could get them started, and it was as he was pouring the dark red liquor that he gave the woman a smirk and a soft scoff. “Girl, how are you?” he asked playfully, passing her one of the glasses. “Don’t hold back, now, I wanna know the hot goss.”

—

“You know it.” Xóchitl grinned back at him. “Oh, glad you think that my decorating skills are decent, and that you think I look great. Means a lot.” She quickly accepted the bouquet and offered Wyatt the slightest of curtseys in response – tongue-in-cheek and all, but something that worked very well between the two of them, she figured.

“Damn, I’m impressed.” She spun around on the balls of her feet, pressing a kiss on top of the flowers before setting them down. “I’m well, you know, just looking great and having a brilliant job. Not that I’d brag, ever. Or,” Xóchitl’s eyes crinkled in the beginnings of laughter, “well, not without reason. Hot goss? There’s this sexy guy that’s back in town? Curly brown hair, wickedly charming smile? You might have seen him around.” She winked. “But for real, I don’t know – this town is still weird, but not all of it feels bad. Most of it, yes, but not everything. Do you have any hot gossip for me, babe?” Maybe the babe was a bit too much, but she appreciated just how easy things felt with Wyatt, how at home they felt.

—

"Ohh, no kiddin'? Hmm, you might have to introduce me…" Wyatt teased in return, taking a sip of his wine. Bless her heart–weird didn't even begin to cover it. He wondered, briefly, exactly how much of that weirdness she was aware of… but figured that would come up naturally if at all, and let the comment slide on by with a commiserate nod and shrug. "Little ol’ me? Well… It was gettin' too expensive to stay in Boston, couldn't ah… send as much back home." He'd made the brave decision to tell Xóchitl about his family in Louisiana once, and while he'd left out a lot of details, she at least knew that a portion of his income was mailed to his mother. "Heard through the grapevine that the cost of livin' was better here, n' since I knew you came from these parts, well… figured there had to be some good about it." He grinned, circling an arm around her waist and pulling her in close, pressing an affectionate kiss to her temple. "Believe it or not, you ain't the first person from Boston I've run into up here. Seems the past has a way of catchin' up, eh? Anyway… it's been good. Woulda been smarter to move somewhere warmer, probably. But I never claimed to be smart," the lamia laughed.

After a beat, he let her go and set his glass on the counter, clapping his hands together. "Right then! Food, before the warm stuff cools off too much. All made special for you, dove."

—

“I’ll be sure to, I have a feeling the two of you’ll get along almost like you’re the same person.” Xóchitl offered him a conspiratorial grin. She listened carefully to what he was saying – Wyatt was absolutely someone she trusted very much, and cared for all on top of that, and since they hadn’t been in tons of contact recently, she was hungry for whatever pieces of information he shared. “Boston’s way too expensive, I agree – and that makes sense, you’re good for looking out for your mom, I mean, I know it’s just nice to do, but too many people wouldn’t even try…” He’d come here in part because she was from here, and for all that she loathed what the town had done to her, she couldn’t help but smile at that particular remark, body relaxing against his arms. Sighing against the kiss against her temple, entirely at ease with him, just as always. “No way. That’s neat, though it’s kind of wild to see a lot of us just suddenly move up here. Though three’s not so many, I suppose. Well, I think you’re plenty smart,” she pressed a kiss to her fingers and pressed her fingers against his nose, “and selfishly, I’m glad you’re here, because I missed you.”

Xóchitl frowned for a moment when he let her go, though the promise of food was enticing. “I feel very very lucky, because your food is some of the best ever.”

—

It was kind of her to tell him she thought he was smart, even if he didn’t believe it for a second. Not to say he thought she was lying, she’d just probably never been around him long enough for the true, dumbass bayou hillbilly to come through. He’d worked very hard on the walls he’d built up around himself to protect that aspect of his personality from view, and subsequently, ridicule, and there were not many people he’d been that vulnerable with. It was nothing against Xóchitl, either—she was just actually smart, so the walls stayed up. Perception was everything, and if Wyatt was being truly honest with himself, he cared deeply about what others thought of him. Best to keep on her good side.

They’d eaten the food and made it through the first bottle of wine after little more than an hour, chatting about their time apart as if it had never really occurred—talking to Xó had always been easy. Maybe that’s why she was a therapist (duh). Wyatt, for all his charm, was barely able to follow along as she spoke about her field of work, finding that he relied much more on wit and being able to convince someone that what he wanted was what they wanted than he actually understood other people. Or himself, for that matter.

“That’s fascinatin’. You must be real good at readin’ people then, yeah? Does that ever get exhaustin’, or is it somethin’ you can like… turn off?” He let a brief pause pass between them before adding, “I hope you can, ‘cause I’m bettin’ tryin’ to read me would give you a right headache.” He was sitting beside her on the couch, arm slung across her shoulders, legs sticking out beneath the coffee table as he settled in comfortably.

—

Wine and food and good conversation made time pass quickly. Time with Wyatt always did, but in the best sort of way. The best sort of way, minus the fact that it meant that time with him came to an end sooner than she would’ve liked. Which Xóchitl was keen to avoid today, at least. She wasn’t sure how successful she’d wind up being, but trying something mattered, didn’t it?

She wanted time with her friend, and besides, it was nice to look at Wyatt’s smile and know just how warm he was, and how easily he made her smile. Not that smiling was always hard, but Wyatt was undoubtedly on the list of people who always (always) understood just how to get Xóchitl to smile, even when she really wasn’t feeling up to it.

“I guess I am real good at that, huh?” She smirked at her friend. “I don’t try to read my friends, Wyatt, and I don’t try to do it all the time anyhow.” Xóchitl leaned against Wyatt’s chest, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the fabric of his shirt. “Don’t worry, this is all just us two. We can talk about, or do, whatever it is that you’d be up for. The food was, unsurprisingly, exceptional.”

—

“Mm, fair… probably best not to, eh? You’d get real sick of us.” Wyatt suspected that if she was ever upset with someone she might try to figure out what the hell was going on with them, but he’d never been on the opposite end of that particular emotion. No, he and Xó only had good memories together, and he aimed to keep it that way.

The feel of her nails against his skin, even through the barrier of his shirt, had him straightening his spine a little bit. He smiled down at her, brushing her hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear as she spoke, assuring him that it was just them. Just them, and whatever they wanted to say… or do. Hm.

He lifted a brow, craning his neck down to speak against the top of her head. “Well… I ain’t much of a linguistic genius, we both know that, but there’s loads of things we can do that I’m pretty good at,” he hummed suggestively. “Exceptional, even. Not to toot my own horn, but, ah…” The smirk remained as she predictably turned her head to look up at him, and his bright blue gaze fell to her lips.

—

“Well, I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of you, so…” Xóchitl shrugged. Not that she was going to think too much about that, because Wyatt had only just wound up back in her life again, and as much as she was one to catastrophize, she’d try to put it off at least for a little while, with him. Especially seeing as she’d only just gotten him back, and that was partially her fault, but still. It was good, and she could be selfish and take everything good that was offered to her.

(Not that there always was a lot of that, and Xóchitl didn’t even mean that in a way of self-pity, but more scientific fact).

His hand on her hair felt nice, and so did him tucking it behind her ear, and he smelled just like how she remembered, back, all those years ago. Even if it wasn’t the identical scent, it was the feeling, more than anything else, about it all, and Xóchitl felt her whole body relax against his, the comforting feeling of being curled into him one that she wasn’t going to stop relishing any time soon.

His words carried a more suggestive tone, then, and that much she could work with. “Being a linguistic genius is overrated anyways, and I’d love to see some of those things you’re good at.” Xóchitl looked up at him. “I think you deserve to praise yourself, and I’ll tell you that there are some things I’m also rather excellent at.” She brushed a finger against his jawline. “Besides, I’m flexible in more ways than one, and as bad of a line that is, let me tell you that I’m truly down for most anything. I think I’d like to see some of what you’re exceptional at, if you’d be so kind as to show me?”

—

Wyatt Barlow was many things, but overly cautious was not one of them. He rarely thought things through before acting, which is probably why he'd been pit fighting for more than half his life, and why he had no real relationships to speak of. He was, in every sense of the word, ephemeral. Flighty. Whim-prone, and right now his whim was curled against his side, touching his face, and telling him how flexible she was. There was no clearer sign in the universe, and the blinking neon might've blinded him had it been anything more than metaphorical.

“And what sort of friend would I be if I didn't oblige when you've asked me so nicely?” he teased, leaning down to catch her lips in a kiss. It was gentle at first, or at least as gentle as was possible for Wyatt, but quickly devolved into something much more needy and ravenous.

Funnily enough, this hadn't been the intention behind tonight's visit, but it wasn't a detour he was looking to complain about, not by a long shot.

—

His kiss felt good, and it felt even better when Wyatt’s kisses turned more frantic, more hungry, and she’d wanted this for years, since they’d met and Wyatt had decided to be something of a gentleman, or whatever, but now he very much wasn’t being that, and Xóchitl was more than okay with that, as she pulled him against her body. “You wouldn’t be a very good friend, especially since I have asked so nicely.” She pouted for a moment before her grin turned into something far more mischievous – and, for that matter, sensual.

She pulled away from Wyatt for a moment, only to rid herself of her shirt before her mouth found his again. “Since you’re being such a good friend, I think we should take this to my room. Only the best for you, of course,” her kisses were frenetic this time, as she walked backwards, towards her room, pulling him along, until they were on her bed, and something about all of this felt so good and Xóchitl was also more than just a little pleased with herself.

After, she looked over to him, and couldn’t help but remark that, “well, it’s about time, Wyatt. See, though, told you I can use my mouth for much more than just talking. Been telling you that for years, too.” She turned more fully to face him, placing a kiss on his jaw. “Hope that was worth it. Happy to do a repeat any time you’d like.”

—

“And you sure weren’t lyin’, sweetheart,” Wyatt remarked in turn, grinning at her when she moved to better face him. “‘N hey, I was tryin’ to be polite!” It was more that he enjoyed the chase, enjoyed every moment of tension that led up to nights like this, finding the whole experience far more satisfying if there was something at stake. Stakes were the kind of thing that kept him interested, after all.

Humming softly as she kissed him again, the lamia raised his brows. “Oh yeah? Well, how ‘bout I take you out first next time, treat you to a proper night on the town, hm?” He wasn’t the sort to just show up looking for a bedfellow, no… there had to be some kind of preamble. Maybe it was all the lessons from his mother about treating people right, but it was a habit that was hard to kick. Hell, even Owen was always wined or dined first, or whatever sort of act of service Wyatt could manifest in however little time the slayer had given him.

Running a hand through her hair, he let it fall piece by piece back to her bare shoulder, smirking to himself. “Kick me out when you get tired of me,” he offered, not wanting to overstay his welcome. “But I can stay tonight if you’d prefer, dove.”

—

“I try not to lie – at least as far as about things like this.” Xóchitl shrugged. “Well, I hope the wait was worth it, though for the record, I wouldn’t have thought you were rude if you’d been quote-unquote rude before now. Just so we’re clear.” But it was also nice, how he hadn’t just wanted to jump into bed with her, even despite all her attempts.

The feeling of his skin under her lips felt nice. “Not sure how much of a proper night on the town this town can give, but I won’t say no, obviously.” She never would, to attention specifically designed for her, for her to be treated specially. From someone like Wyatt, someone she’d actually known for quite a while, there was something about all of that that felt even more worth it, more fulfilling in its own sort of way. “We could always go somewhere more exciting, but I do trust you to make any town something fun.” Which she did. Wyatt was fun, hanging out with him was fun, so even if her hometown wasn’t nearly as exciting as Boston or New York City, Xóchitl figured the two of them could make it a whole lot of fun on their own.

Xóchitl also was in no way opposed to the way he brushed his hand through her hair. “I mean, all of this has been fantastic, and you’re my friend, so I don’t think you could really overstay your welcome.” Her smile, though still smirk-adjacent, was also real, and she hoped he could tell that. “I wouldn’t say no to that. In fact, I’d say a very enthused yes. Especially because I’m not so sure I’m totally ready to be alone in bed…” She shifted closer to him, pressing another kiss on his lips.

#. thread ;#. with ; xochitl reyes #. been a while ;#wrspice

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