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fandomsilhouette · 3 years

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they’ve got a bad reputation (they’ll get a standing ovation)

The spotlight clicks on, floods the stage until the shadows are sent scampering away, every flaw and every fear in sharp contrast for the audience to feast upon; but what horrors lurk where the darkness prowls, trapped at the edges of the script like handcuffs around the actor? May life mirror art at the best of times, the worst of times.

Happy @felinettenovember, y’all! We’re back to terrible o’clock writing times with @musicfren, who is collaborating with me on this fic-turned-mechanism-through-which-to-preach-on-the-spot-Hamlet-analysis. He’ll be posting the second part on his account tomorrow, during which the bulk of my meta nonsense is going to come through. Are you following him yet? @emzurl spoiled this whole story with their art and @dumpsdoods simply spoils me with theirs.

Part 1 below. Part 2 upcoming.

“Alright, take ten, my dudes! We’ll go from Act III, Scene 1 after you get some snacks and chill.”

Marinette lets out an amused laugh as she thumbs through her copy of the script, ignoring the throng of hungry students pushing past her, desperate for this grueling 5 hour rehearsal to end. Brevity may be the soul of wit, but certainly not of this play. Nino makes a good director, she thinkst: loud, relentlessly positive, able to carry the sagging energy of an entire unwilling highschool production on his shoulders.

But alas, poor Nino is fighting a losing battle. Everyone knows that the point of this play is the obligatory report they will all have to write for their literature class at the end of the week. Almost no one here can act, and Marinette’s arms are beginning to grow tired from carrying up the entire play. With scarcely a week left it looks like most people are planning to coast the rest of the way to a clean C+. The part of Hamlet still has not been cast.

Akuma attacks have pushed back the discussions they were meant to have on the play, and Bustier couldn’t cancel the major assignment for the unit; instead, she had told them to analyze the play through the role of their choice after embodying it for the few weeks it took to rehearse and perform the production. Their in-class discussions have been condensed into a take-home paper on top of the already obligatory theatre performance and pretty much everyone knows that Bustier would be lenient on them just for that. And Nino knows they know, and Marinette is starting to suspect that he is itching to “chill” like he keeps telling them to.

Marinette chews on the corner of her pencil, running a finger over the veritable bloodbath of neat pink notes she’s crammed into the margins of every page. She’s on in the next scene, and she wants to make sure she’s got all the nuances of the character, her character, exactly as she plans to bring her to life. Looking over the script, Marinette starts to regret not typing the notes to begin with: her entire essay is definitely already fully composed. Maybe Max will consider building her an application that can scan the document and transpose it to a word processor as editable text…

“Give me your hand, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.”

Marinette looks up to see Felix quoting Shakespeare, trying very hard to look inconspicuous in his black stage-hand clothes, wheeling a stand of fake swords almost as tall as he was. She watches with some amusement as he struggles to set it upright, and makes absolutely no move to help him.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you on stage any time this week,” she says, sticking her tongue out and being far cuter than it had any right to be. Felix, sweating, scrambles for a riposte.

“I hadn’t expected you out of the home ec room at all. Shouldn’t you be half-drowned in fabric or something?”

She sends him a quizzical look. He wonders if the akuma attacks have scrambled her memory. “Because...you’ve got costumes to work on? As the play’s costume designer?”

“Oh, I’m not doing costumes this year, actually.” Marinette laughs awkwardly. “I’m not even sure what I would write about if I were.”

Felix stares at her. The sword he was carrying slid out of his grasp with a dull clang.

“...what are you writing about as a stagehand?”

Felix decides to pretend the last few moments were a fever dream and focus on answering this one very reasonable question. “I’m looking at the blocking and the prop placement and the lighting and how it impacts the effect of the character portrayal on the audience and what information manages to get conveyed to the audience.”

Marinette offers a suitably impressed ooh at this. “How far have you gotten with it?”

“Darling, we don’t even have a Hamlet. The titular character. I’ve done nothing.” Felix offers the most deadpan look he can muster and startles at her giggle. “What, how far have you gotten?!”

Marinette flashes her script at him, more notes than dialogue at this point.

“You are possibly the only person in the class thinking anything even remotely deep about this play. What is all that for?!”

“Hopefully for a handwritten notes to editable text conversion app.”

Felix only narrowly avoids gaping. What?! “...is that what’s scrawled on every corner of that script you’re clutching?” He grins crookedly at her, and her traitorous heart skips a beat.

“...oh! no, um, those are my notes. For… my essay? I’ve written out the character analyses into where the text supports my arguments and… um… yeah.” She flushes with the realization that 1) that was completely out of context for him because 2) he cannot, in fact, read her mind.

“...Marinette, for what do you possibly need notes?”

“...to play my character?”

“Oh, wow, are you playing a guy? Impressive, tiny girl.” He rakes his gaze down her body and Marinette is flushed for a whole new reason now. She pushes to her feet and doesn’t bother to care about the swords she knocks over.

“I’m not, actually.”

“Why?! Who is there to play among the female characters? Marinette, I took you as someone who plays characters of worth.”

She looks up at him, eyes wide with dangerous innocence “Are female characters not valuable?”

“I-- no, that’s not what I meant and you know it! Shakespeare is historical, and male-centric, and writes women who do little more than parrot the views of the men around them if they get any dialogue at all. There’s no substance there! Who are you possibly going to play, Gertrude? Ophelia?!?” Felix’s tone makes it very clear what he thinks of the only two options she has available to her.

Marinette sweeps past him coolly, her hair whipping against his cheek. “I am playing Ophelia, actually.”

Stumbling, Felix turns and gives her a wry grin. “Oh darn, I’m sorry for your loss.” He makes a valiant effort at replicating her stuck out tongue, not that Marinette is looking. It’s for the best: it’s not nearly as cute on him.

“Excuse you?” Marinette halts in her tracks, shadowed amongst the heavy curtains of stageside. Her voice echoes hauntingly around the empty theatre.

“...c’mon. Ophelia does less than Gertrude. She even has fewer lines!”

With great restraint, Marinette manages to do nothing more than turn to face Felix, trembling with repressed rage. “Does less? Ophelia is the only person in this play who does anything at all that isn’t driven by a madman’s plot! Ophelia is the only person in this play who can pull Hamlet out of insanity, even if for little more than a moment.”

Frustrated, Felix tosses the nearest item at her and growls when she catches it neatly. It’s a victory when she stalks off across the stage to the opposite wing, gathering her notes and settling herself neatly in a prim fury. She’s wrong, she’s wrong, she’s wrong. He whirls around and starts rearranging everything she knocked over, grumbling under his breath.

“Ophelia is the only character in that play who makes zero choices of her own. Even her death was a result of her tripping into a lake.”

There’s a crashing sound, and Felix spins back around to see Marinette bolt upright, tempestuous in her temper. Felix may have gotten a bit too loud with that last statement.

“How can you say that? That’s the most significant choice she makes in the whole play!”

Felix can feel the irritation rising, hot and ugly in his chest. Why is she being so stubborn? Marinette makes a gesture at him, quick and angry from the other side of the room. Felix squints and tilts his head, struggling to what she was doing from across the stage. Then all at once it hits him.

“Do… do you bite your thumb at me?!” He splutters in indignant incoherency, his grip tightening on whatever he’s holding until the plastic grooves bite into his skin.

“I do bite my thumb at thee, sir.”

Felix steps onto stage, glaring. Marinette matches him step for step, glare for angry glare. Nino gasps, cowers, and then grabs his camera.

The class, milling around aimlessly as their ten minutes ticked to an end, comes to a collective halt. Nino sheppards them out of the way of the camera’s shot. They flock without protest to the edges of the theatre, terrified to watch this trainwreck unfold, terrified they’ll miss even a second of it. The die has been cast. Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?

Nino can only hope that the set backgrounds manage to come out of this intact.

#Notte Writes #Notte Collabs #Fanfiction #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #ML #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous: Adventures Of Ladybug And Chat Noir #Felix #PV Felix #Felix Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Felix/Marinette #Felinette #Theatre Consistent Dramatics #Grievous Insults (To A Nerd)#Meta Parallels To Hamlet #Fluff #Felinette Month 2020 Day 14 #Felinette Month 2020

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justalittletomato · 4 years

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Maul X Reader Drabble Part 3

Well here we are at part 3 (the last one) for this set hope you all enjoy it!

Warnings: Small mention of blood

also tag for @apocalypticwafflekitten who was excited for part 3!

Link to Part 1

https://justalittlecloud.tumblr.com/post/628405603084206080/maul-x-reader-drabble

Link to Part 2

https://justalittlecloud.tumblr.com/post/628493443068542976/maul-x-reader-drabble-part-2

Preview: Maul had never been too deep into the library, this was where y/n would retreat to, deep into the shelves of real paper and ink, y/n had curled up in her nook. Her hair cascading across the pillows she had there and fast asleep. She would look almost serene if not for the tear streaks down her cheeks.

“It seems like her sentiment was not understood.”

The lingering touches and the way she listened to him and argued with him. His knee jerk reaction at the thought of her leaving his side, and the loss he felt when she left this morning.

“Y/n what have you brought upon yourself?”

For the moment he just looked around the shelves, laws, texts that y/n had often cited during arguments and during their discussions.

“You can’t possibly feel that way,” he watched as she frowned in her sleep, ”You shouldn't”

Yes, he thought bitterly he loved her, and maybe she did as well, but Maul knew better than to let such a feeling linger. It was dangerous to think of that. He stared at her tear marks, he had never even fully answered her and she was already crying.

You’ll bring her nothing but pain, it's what you were made for.

He may want her at his side, Y/N would be a divine Lady of Mandalore, if not all he could imagine was her suffering.

Maybe she would be taken by a New Mandalorian or the Jedi would drag her away, each scenario he imagined growing worse.

Maybe she would realize that Maul couldn’t love like her, that he was incapable of it in the way she deserved. He didn’t deserve her love as much as he wanted it.

You bring nothing but pain and suffering.

As Maul struggled Y/N was having a nightmare of her own. She had been left alone again, of course there were windows each one with someone she had known, her mother, the classmates from the academy, the late duchess,with each name she said she received no answer or acknowledgment of her presence. She even tapped the glass to no avail. No one looked back at her, not even her mother. Desperation built in her heart, “Look at me please! Please just look at me!”

She shouted their names, nothing but silence.

Her fist slammed into the windows, shattered glass stabbing into her hand, but not a soul would look out.Y/N stared at the blood, not even this caught their attention.

Someone muttered behind her, Y/N looked back to see Maul closing a door behind him, the only door in a room of windows. Y/N shot up and followed after him. She winced as she jerked the door open, the glass embedding itself deeper into her palm, but she bit her lip to keep from whimpering, she would not cry in front of him.

“Maul!” Her voice betrayed her, too high and raised, sounding like she was going to break.

The man turned, as always y/n felt her face warm and heart begin to beat ever so faster at the sight of him.

Savage had made a remark once, she was like a moth to a flame,with the danger of burning herself. That warmth quickly depleted as she realized he was looking anywhere but her,

“Maul please.”

He stepped close but again it was like she was invisible, y/n could feel her composure finally break with her tears falling, “Please, not you too.” Again no sign of anything, Y/N finally had it she threw herself at him hoping that she could at least embrace him. The hard slam to the floor took her breath away but it was nothing compared to how alone she felt, Y/N curled up into herself and screamed.

In between nightmares and waking yn was sobbing, her face twisted in pain. Maul was reacting before he could stop himself trying to shake her shoulders, “Y/N it’s a dream. Y/n wake up it’s a dream.”

Had she not done the same for him once?

Y/ ec eyes blinked away tears and she focused slowly, Maul had his hands on her shoulders and stared at her in what she could only assume was concern, she gave a tiny sob, “You can see me...oh you can see me.”

If this was a dream she could do what she wanted, here was hers to do what she wished, she leaned in closer to him.

It didn’t register to him that he should have pulled away as soon as she said this, now numbed by Y/N kissing him.

It was wet, that was all he could register in that first moment, before it dawned on him how wonderful it felt, a pleasant buzz on his lips.

“Usually never feels like this.” She sighed when she pulled away, caressing his left cheek with her thumb, she looked at him and blinked, she blinked again.

This wasn't the room in her dream, this was her nook.

Maul winces as his back hits the other side of the nook Y/N has her arms out as she stands up and steps away. She backed up into a shelf, ignoring the two books that fell even as one volume nicked her shoulder, it was nothing compared to what had transpired. Her eyes had transfixed on Maul like she was cornered prey waiting for the final strike.

So this was what love had done to her, she was already hurting and all she had done was kiss him, it was almost prophetic that he could cause harm even with a kiss, it was what he was molded to do since he was a child.

Maul wouldn’t have her suffer through this, “Just forget this Y/N it won’t happen again, you have nothing to apologize for, I promise you.”

She seemed to shrink into herself even more as he said this, “ I have nothing to apologize for?”

“And while I recognize now that it is likely that I feel affections for you.” He watches as she quickly registers his words, but he pushes that feeling of warmth down, tries to drown with memories of what he was capable of. If he cared for her he would release her from this.

Y/n holds her breath, again that flicker of hope stirs in her heart and Maul can see it in her eyes. He has to end this now.

“ I refuse to let yourself waste your time.”

“ Waste my time?” She repeats, her voice far away as her heartbeat begins to ring in her ears, how she rather be invisible again.

Maul locks his eyes onto her he needs her to be the one to break this hold, “Y/N I didn’t even realize either of us felt anything till now and you were trying to show me for weeks, I never felt anything like this, I don’t even know if it should be possible. I should not be capable of it. You can't possibly love me. “

He wants her to let this go, he doesn’t want her to suffer.

Y/n tries to ignore the ringing in her ears. She has to face this, though her heart is heavy and she struggles to push through “ I can make my own choice and that choice is to love you.”

Maul looked momentarily taken back by her response, but he pushed back again.

“By condemning yourself?!That’s what you’ll be doing,” He is warning her why can’t she see that this feeling she has will only damn her.

“ What if I want to?” she holds his gaze, her heartbeat still loud in her ears while she tries to stand more upright and hold his gaze,“Damned or not I want to be at your side, I know you are going to keep pushing me away, but you know I won’t listen without a fight. `

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes for a moment, Maul watches as she begins to step closer. Y/n stands her ground and fully confesses, “I love you, “

She says it slowly and gently. He has never heard those words spoken to him. Y/n says it again, “Yes I love you and it may seem insane and foolish to you but I do.”

Maul is glaring at her, she wasn’t supposed to say those words to him. He shakes his head in hopes to erase the echo his mind gives of her repeating those words to him.

She wasn't supposed to argue with him about this, “ You'll only bring yourself pain, I'm trying to help you.” He refuses to beg, he just wants these feelings gone for the both of them.

Y/N again stepped closer, “Then tell me, you don’t want me. Tell me you'll let me put me out of your hearts.” She stands before him, her hair slightly disarrayed and eyes still wet from tears, and refusing to listen to reason. Even like this he wants nothing but her infuriating presence in his life, he wants to argue with her, but he wants her there to calm him and say those words again.

Maul growled at her, his golden eyes alight with anger and fear at the thought of sending her away, “ I CAN’T.”

He couldn’t even lie, Y/N would remain in his thoughts and he would want nothing more than to have her stand beside him.

She gives him one of her sad smiles, “ Then, I won’t either,” Her fate is sealed there.

He can’t win against her; she will keep loving him even if it burned her.

He didn’t move as she reached to touch his face, all Maul did was resign himself, he just wanted to spare her from his destructive path, from the fire he was going to set to those who wronged him.

Her fingertips traced his tattoos, each touch leaving a trail of warmth that Maul couldn’t help but lean into and close his eyes. Was this what it was like to be loved? To feel a gentle touch and just want to drown in it?

Y/N paid close attention to tracing near his brow and his lips, reveling at how he melted into her touch, he was beautiful like this, a calmness she had never seen grace his strong face.

She broke the silence with another confession,

“When I was little, my mother always told me about a story about the sun. One should never get to close it. but one day a person didn’t listen so they flew higher and higher towards it. Eventually they came too close and it burned them, they fell. I know it’s meant to be a lesson, but I can’t help but picture it now,” she leaned in closer. Maul opened his eyes slightly, smoldering gold meeting y/ec listening to her , “ That’s what you remind me of, the sun I was warned about.” Maul tries to warn her again, only for y/n to again trace his face in comfort, “ Please understand it’s fine, I want to feel it’s warmth. The sun is a beautiful thing, fierce and strong, his face grows warmer under her touch at this,” It may burn but it will be worth it.”

She wasn’t going to listen to his warning. Part of him was relieved that some grace was granted in his life. The gentle touches to his face were something he never had, he couldn’t let them go now, like Y/N had said it would be worth it.

They weren’t sure how to go to this but eventually Y/N was on top of him. Her legs on either side of him, cold metal pressed against her gown, she gave a slight shiver. Maul tried to push her away only for y/n to nudge him back with a sweet kiss to his cheek, “ No don’t.” she merely gets close to him fully placing her weight against him only shivering slightly, “ It’s fine. I love you, all of you,” she gives him one more soft kiss to his cheek to assure him, “ Please look at me” Again their eyes lock and Maul again is struck by how much he wants this he wants to tell her, “ Y/N I-“

For once he finds he can’t speak.

“You don’t have to say it, “she informs him, “ for right now I’ll just show you. Just follow my lead.”

Maul does as asked, and can't help but groan when she kisses him; it was soft just a press of their lips but the 2nd of many more.

It seemed hesitant each time they did this, Y/N pulled away gently earning a small growl of protest.

“Maul, was that your first kiss? “ It was an honest question, he mutters a small annoyed, “Possibly” he never had time for something like this, never considered it either, but now...what if...

She could sense he was drifting into his thoughts,

Y/N traces his bottom lip , “ It's perfectly alright, that just means I have to kiss you often to make up for it.”

He lights up at that, “Can you kiss me again then?”

He doesn’t have to ask again as Y/N presses her mouth to his, she moves gently trying to coax him to do the same. Maul is quick to follow and presses on for more, soon Y/N is gasping for air, her cheeks pink while Maul moves to kiss against her jaw and throat desperate to touch and feel her close, “ More? “ he requests.

Y/n lets out a gentle laugh and gives his forehead a kiss before placing another on his lips “ Of course Lord Maul, as you wish. “

#darth maul x y/n #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #maul X y/n #maul #darth maul #cloudsdrabbles #I really liked finishing up this one #so much angst and fluff #but ends with so much fluff and softness

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harrystyleswatermelon-sugar · 4 years

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You´re still the one

„I am sorry, Y/N. I really am…I don’t know what to do anymore” Harry says and looks with sad green eyes in my direction. I can´t believe he is really breaking up with me.

“Just because you are at a loss, you don’t have to throw away a relationship. Our relationship. I love you Harry. I don’t want to lose you” I say and try really hard to hold back my tears. He sighs very deep and puts his hands in front of his face. He looks miserable and I don’t know why he thinks there is no hope for us.

“Look, I don’t get it. Yesterday everything was fine and today you are coming home from your meeting and suddenly want to break up with me? I am so confused, what the hell happened?” I ask and sob quietly. I thought we were happy, it seemed like he was happy.

“I don’t know, if this is what I want in life. There is so much more and I am so sorry, to hurt you like that. You deserve so much more, than I can give you” he answers and avoids looking at me. Something seems so off.

“Harry, what the fuck are you talking about? I just need you and I am happy with you, aren’t you happy with me?” I am desperate to change his mind, but I simply can´t get through to him, as it seems.

“I don’t know anymore. I just need you to leave. Please…don’t make it any harder…for both of us” he says quietly and I look at his face. The face I love so much. The man, who owns my heart and my soul. I love this man with all my heart and I don’t know if I can take a breakup. We were talking about moving in together as our relationship was getting stronger and stronger. And now this happens. Absolutely unexpected. I feel the tears running down my cheeks and before I start sobbing like a baby, I decide to fulfil his request and leave.

After I called my best friend Y/BF/N I begin putting my stuff together and soon I have everything. It is not too much, because he just came back from tour and I literally arrived two days ago.

“So, this is it, then? You sure?” I ask him and look at his face. His eyes look puffy and red, but I know he did not cry. Maybe he is right before his breaking point, I don’t know. I, on the other hand, definitely am over my breaking point.

“I…Y-Yes, Y/N. It is for our best” he answers and I try one last time, to look him in the eyes, but he still avoids me. I am getting angry and before I say something, I later regret, I take my bag and leave.

This was four months ago and until today, I haven’t heard from Harry. I see his face regularly on some newspapers, mostly with some model at his side. I don’t know if he is happy, but I know that I am not. I am still shocked that he threw our nearly one-year relationship away. I heard from Niall, right after the breakup and here and there he still checks in with me, to see if am doing okay. He just told me on the phone, that Harry is planning on changing his management, the restrictions his current management has are just too much. I didn’t know it was so bad, Harry never talked with me about his work relationships.

“How is he anyways? I always see him with some models on covers, is he doing okay?” I finally ask, we usually try to not touch the topic Harry.

“He is miserable, Y/N. He still misses you so much, don’t believe a word the yellow press is printing” Niall says and my heart jumps. He misses me.

“Why did he break up, then? I mean… the whole conversation seemed so off,” I overthink loudly and I hear Niall laughing into my ear.

“I think it was management, honestly” I can´t believe this really could be the reason. He wouldn’t choose his management over me, wouldn’t he? As soon, as we end our call, I send Y/BF/N a voice memo to tell her what Niall just told me.

Two weeks later I am on my way home in the tube, with headphones on, as my phone announces a new message. I stare at the display. This is a joke. I have waited for so long and now, as I am not thinking of him for once, he texts me.

Hey, Y/N. You´re probably very angry at me, but I need to talk to you. It is rather important; I owe you an apology. Love, H.

What the hell? I hesitate to answer him but when I exit the tube station I know, what I am going to write him. I buy my regular iced coffee and walk down the park. I sit on my favourite bench and take my phone out.

I don’t know what this would change, but if you need some closure…sure, why not. Saturday 2pm, where?

He answers nearly a second later:

Please come to my house, if that is okay. You know, the fans…

I agree and walk home, thinking about this super weird conversation, which is going to take place on Saturday.

Saturday

I am fucking nervous. I am so nervous; my hands are shaking as I know stand in front of Harrys gate. This is insane. Y/BF/N brought me here and she is waiting right around the corner, to take me home, if it goes wrong. If Harry and I are getting into an argument and I want to leave.

My heart is racing and I hope I look decent, to face him. Y/BF/N said I look pretty and not at all desperate to get him back. Because I am. I want my Harry back.

Harry lets me in and as I walk through the small front yard, I can already see him at his front door. He smiles and I can see, that he is in a much better place than when he broke up with me.

“Hi Harry” I say and reject his attempt to hug me. I don’t want to get near him, because if I do, the hope will get back to me. I don’t want it to come back and break my heart once again, if he really just wants to talk it through.

“Hey, Y/N” he answers huskily and leads me into the house I used to have a key to.

We sit down at his dining table and he offers me some water. As he finally sits down next to me, I try to not look too often at him, but I can´t help it. I´ve missed him so much that I just want to hug and squeeze him, bury my face into his chest and breathe in his heavenly scent. He clears his throat and looks at me. Green meets Y/EC.

“I want to apologize; I was such a dick to you. I am really sorry, Y/N. This whole situation was so fucked up and I just broke under all the pressure…management made me do it. I didn’t want to break up with you, but they thought it was for the best. My fans would be more affectionate and all, the said if I don’t get rid of you, they were going to tell the press I cheated on you…I didn’t want that, so I gave in and made the biggest mistake in my life” he sighs and explains without looking away.

“Yeah, I thought about something like that after Niall told me, you changed your management” I answer and he rises an eyebrow.

“Niall? You two are close?” he asks and I see jealousy in his eyes.

“Not really, he kept in touch with me occasionally. Why haven’t you talked to me? I mean…we could have gotten through this” I reply and hear the sadness in my voice.

“You broke my heart, Harry” I add and feel the familiar tingle in my eyes.

“I know and I am so sorry, I don’t know why I did it without talking to you. It was so stupid, please forgive me. I was an idiot” he practically begs me and as his hand touches mine, I look at him. His eyes are sparkling from tears, but he isn’t yet crying.

“It´s okay Harry…I´m over it. You were protecting me in some way and I get it, I am not mad” I answer and he squeezes my hand lightly. His lips curl into one of his beautiful smiles and I can see those cute dimples.

“Are you…over us also? Over me?” his voice is full of hope and I can see, that he is really scared of my answer. How could I ever be over Harry? I mean, he didn’t meant to harm me or hurt me at all.

“How could I, Harry? How could I possibly be over you?” I ask back and see, how he bites his bottom lip.

“So…if I ask you to come back to me and be with me…you would? You don’t need to be concerned, my new management is really supportive and I talked to them and they literally said, that I could do whatever I want as long as I fulfil the contract” he sounds excited and very happy. I entwine our fingers and smile at him.

“And is in your contract anything about girlfriends?”

“Nothing” he assures me and comes closer. “I really want to kiss you right now…am I allowed to?” he adds quietly and I nod, as he moves even closer.

Finally, as his lips touch mine, I sigh in relief. I missed this so much, I missed Harry. I pull him close and he grabs my hips. I am pulled onto his lap and smile against his soft lips. This went way better, than expected.

“I love you so much and I missed you even more” he whispers in my ear, as we hug tightly.

“I love you more” I answer and kiss the little spot right below his ear.

Six months later

Our relationship is better than ever before, I flew in to New York to see Harry perform at Madison Square Garden, which he is so excited for.

“I can´t wait. This is so huge, this is insane” he rambles over and over and I smile at him in the mirror. He gets his hair and Make-Up done and I look over to Kacey. She wears a beautiful rainbow coloured dress and looks fantastic.

“You will be amazing, Harry. I know it, you always are” I assure him and kiss his cheek softly. His bright smile shows all the happiness, he has inside of him. He is just awesome; he loves to tour and he is so happy that his fans are absolutely crazy about him.

“Show starts in 5” someone shouts and Kacey gets up.

“See you later, bye Y/N” she says, smiles at me and winks. What was that for? Harry and I stay back all alone in his dressing room. He wears a blues suit with a dragon pattern on it, he just looks amazing.

“Excited to see the show?” he asks me and I nod. Absolutely.

“I am so happy to be here and see you playing your first MSG show. I am so proud of you, I love you” I answer and he smiles, pulls me closer and wraps his arms around my waist.

“I was thinking about going public? What´d say?” he sounds a bit nervous but I laugh quietly.

“We have been all over the news already, I think everybody know we are an item anyways” it happened, when he got back during a tour break. I picked him up from the airport and some fans got us kissing and hugging at the car.

“Yeah, but I want to announce it official. Would that be alright with you?”

“Of course, Harry. I mean…I will move in with you, as soon as your tour ends, we will be living together. Then there is no more hiding” I smile at him and peck his lips, as someone knocks on the door.

“Your turn in 5 minutes, Harry” an assistant says and Harry thanks him.

“See you after the show, love. Enjoy it, it will be very special just for you” he winks at me and I am even more confused, because Kacey winked at me too.

I kiss him goodbye and take my seat with some other friends of him. The show starts and as his fans go wild, I smile. He is so loved and he loves them, it´s so cute and pure.

The show is phenomenal, Harry has the time of his life and I enjoy every second of it. He jokes with the fans, mocks and mimics them and then he ends his final song.

Surely there will be an encore and soon after, he comes back and calls Kacey onto the stage. They look so good together, its ridiculous. I feel a slight pinch of jealousy creeping up in my heart, but I fight it. I trust Harry, he loves me.

“So, this is my last song for tonight, thank you all for coming. There is a someone special in the audience tonight, my long-time girlfriend. Y/N this is for you, I love you” he says and looks up to us. I turn bright red and see him blowing a kiss in my direction.

He then starts playing and singing You´re still the one by Shania Twain and soon the tears are pouring out of my eyes. This song fits so perfectly to our relationship and our story and it is so romantic and beautiful. He sings his heart out, really.

Backstage, after I tried to fix my face, I find him and jump into his arms.

“You are crazy, Harry. This was the most beautiful song ever” I say into his ear and hug him so tight, that I am amazed, he is still able to breathe.

“I´m glad you liked it. I love you, Y/N. I will never ever leave you again, you make me complete” he says and kisses my cheek.

“Did you cry? Tastes a bit salty” he laughs and I blush lightly.

“Maybe a bit” I lie into his face; it is just too embarrassing.

“Actually, she sobbed. There are videos on twitter and you both are trending topic” Jeff answers and I smile at him. I really like his new manager; he is very relaxed and supportive.

“Positive or negative comments?” Harry asks and puts me back on my feet. I put my arms around his sweaty body and he holds me close.

“Mostly positive, really. They like you, Y/N. Congrats, you guys are now official. Good feeling?” Jeff asks and puts his phone away. Harry looks at me with loving eyes.

“Very good” he answers smiling and I press a kiss on his cheek.

Thanks for reading, guys. I hope you liked it. I was asking myself, if you would like something fluffy or smutty? Would definitely be a challenge for me. Let me know.

Have a good start into the week,

Love, xx

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles smut #Harry Styles Imagine #Harry Styles FF #Harry Styles blurb #Harry Styles Oneshot #Harry Styles Fanfic #Harry Styles fluff #1d #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #one direction imagine #one direction oneshot #1dff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

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wellimaginethat · 4 years

Text

Bruises: Chapter 2

SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON 5 FINALE OF CHICAGO MED!!!

Pairing: Crockett Marcel x (female) Reader

Word Count: 3121

Author’s Note: SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON 5 FINALE!!! This happened because of Chicago Med’s season finale. I got this idea and it just stuck. I couldn’t shake it so I had to write it. (I know I said it would be posted at 21:00/9PM central time but I was playing cards with my mom, sorry!)

Trigger Warning(s): MENTION OF CHILD’S DEATH (Dr. Marcel’s daughter, Harper), ABANDONMENT, divorce, CAR ACCIDENT, MENTION OF BLOOD (in later chapter), slight injury (in later chapters), hospital stay (in later chapters), bad medical knowledge because I’m not a doctor (yet, maybe someday, lol), Dr. Manning is a noisy brat (no hate, maybe a little shade, but no full on hate), DEPRESSION (in later chapters), mention of alcohol abuse, mentions of self harm (in later chapters)

Disclaimer: I don’t owe nor am I affiliated with any of the Chicago shows, I just like to play with the characters

Summary: This is probably, kinda, sorta AU because I’ve missed some of Chicago Med (the others too due to work) so I’m just going based off what I know and research (which has come up that we don’t know much about Marcel’s past, other than this shocking new tidbit). Also, the name is from the song Bruises by Lewis Capaldi, which is the song I was listening to while writing this

Y/N = Your Name

Y/EC = Your Eye Color

~ I've been told, I've been told to get you off my mind; But I hope I never lose the bruises that you left behind ~

You didn’t know what to expect. Whether you thought he would call you or not, which led to a lot of pacing back and forth in your hotel room. You actually hoped he would call, having decided that if anything, you would at least be able to bury the lingering feelings so you could officially move on.

You figured Crockett already moved on, and you didn’t blame him, you were the one that actually left.

Part of you wondered if you had stayed, if your marriage would have survived. If you would have been able to work it out, grieved Harper and moved forward together. You wondered if he would’ve stopped staying out so late, if he would’ve stopped avoiding you.

You then started to think of how nice it would have been if you guys could have worked it out and gone back to how things had been before everything happened, sure it wouldn’t have been exactly the same, but back to how loving you two had been towards each other.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you were startled when your phone started buzzing on the bed. You grabbed it to look at who was calling you and were greeted by a number you didn’t know, hoping it was your estranged husband, you slide the answer button across the screen and put the phone up to your ear.

Pausing to take a breath before you said anything, you prepared yourself for it to be him, but you were also ready for it to be a telemarketer. “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Once his voice came across the line, your chest tightened and you forgot how to breath. It almost felt like when you first started seeing each other, how you’d get all excited just by his voice. “Hello? Y/N?”

You cleared your throat. “Sorry, bad reception, you kept breaking out.” You lied, not wanting him to think you were the giant dork you were. “I wasn’t expecting you to actually call me.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to leave your number.” Came his response with a slight chuckle.

You smiled, glad that he didn’t seem upset right now.

“So do you actually want to talk or are we just going to make small talk again?” You could hear the apprehension in his voice.

“I want to talk. Like actually talk. I think the only way for us to fully move on and leave things in the past is for us to talk.” You responded, trying to swallow around the sudden lump in your throat.

He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Do you want to have this conversation over the phone or are you free to grab a cup of coffee?”

“I could get behind grabbing coffee.” You nodded even though he couldn’t see you.

“Do you want to meet up tonight or tomorrow morning?” He asked after you told him the hotel you were staying at.

“What would work better for you?”

“I think I’d have more time tonight, I have to be at the hospital pretty early tomorrow.”

“Then tonight’s fine. Want me to meet you there?”

He paused. “Do you need a ride? Since your car…” He trailed off.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about my car being totaled. Great.” You sighed. “No, I can get a cab.”

“Cabs are expensive.”

“Really? I haven’t really noticed, they didn’t seem that bad.” You said offhandedly, then after you heard him sigh, you stopped. “If you want to give me a ride, you can pick me up at the Dayside Hotel.”

“I can be there in a half hour, I’d like to go home and change first.”

“Okie dokie.” You replied with a smile, then mentally kicked yourself. “I’ll see you then, I’ll meet you out front.”

You were pretty sure you heard him breath out a laugh, like he was trying to suppress it. “Alright, I’ll see you then.” And with that, he hung up.

You made sure the call was over before tossing your phone back onto the bed and falling forward on it, groaning. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” You huffed to yourself, mentally kicking yourself for letting yourself daydream before the phone call, and for letting yourself get flustered by his voice. You knew you needed to get this over with and get out of Chicago and put some distance between the two of you before you got yourself hurt.

You pushed yourself off the bed and went into the bathroom to take a look at yourself, leaning towards the mirror to make sure your makeup was still decent, then you ran your hands through your hair. You didn’t want to seem like you were trying too hard, but you didn’t want to look like you just rolled out of bed either.

After you were done getting ready, you still had twenty-eight minutes to kill before he was supposed to be there. You just then realized that you should have insisted on taking a cab, because you started to doubt that he’d want to give you a ride back after your talk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was there right on time, you started to walk towards his car as he drove into the hotel’s parking lot. As soon as you got to his car, you took a deep breath before opening the door to get in. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He greeted you, waiting until you were in the car and buckled up before he pulled out of the parking lot. “How’re you feeling?” He asked

“Hmm?” You turned to look at him.

“How’re you feeling?” “Fine.” You assumed he meant because of the accident. “My head still kinda hurts and I’m still a little achy but I’m fine.”

“Good.” He nodded as he turned his full attention back to the street ahead of the car.

You nodded once before turning your attention away from him and directed it out of your window, wishing you would have just taken a cab, it wouldn’t have been so awkward. And it was going to be even more awkward if he did give you a ride back to the hotel.

Soon enough he was parking the car on the side of the street, you couldn’t get out of the car fast enough, practically throwing yourself out once it was in park.

He walked over to the meter and put a few quarters in. “I think I have some quarters.” You piped up, going to dig in your purse.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it.” He told you with a small smile, turning his attention away from you to finish what he was doing.

You nodded reluctantly and stood there a bit idly, waiting for him to finish so you could head in to the coffee shop and get this over with.

He walked over to you once he was done and motioned for the two of you to carry on up the sidewalk towards the coffee shop.

You began walking and he fell into step next to you, neither of you talking yet.

Once the two of you got to the coffee shop, he hurried a step ahead of you to open the door for you.

“Still the same gentleman you always were, I see.” You commented with a bit of a smile and he nodded to you, letting you walk in before following you into the coffee shop.

You headed over to the counter to order your coffee, and you made sure to have your card ready to swipe it before he could even think about trying to pay for the coffee.

“I would have gotten it.” He told you.

“And that’s why I made sure to be ready.” You smirked a bit.

“Y/N.” He sighed.

“Crockett.” You retorted in the same tone of voice.

You could see him slowly give up this silly argument and you felt a small sense of victory.

“Don’t look so smug, I’m just trying to keep you in a good mood so you don’t run out.” He told you under his breath as soon as the barista turned away.

You huffed as you frowned up at him, getting ready to throw a snide comment when you stopped yourself. “Well a victory is still a victory either way and I won this argument.” You tell him in a soft voice, meaning it as a joke.

He heard the slight humor in your voice and smiled down at you.

The minute his eyes met yours, your heart clenched and you had to turn away, facing back toward the front counter, waiting for your drinks.

Time seemed to slow down as you watched the barista make your drink and bring it over, she handed your drink over to you.

You took it and turned to Crockett. “I’m going to grab a table.” You just didn’t want to stand there next to him and pretend this isn’t awkward.

He nodded to you as he waited for his coffee.

You found a table near the wall, away from the others sitting in the coffee shop, and took a seat. He joined you within moments and took a seat across from you, you could feel his eyes on you but your eyes were trained on your drink.

“So are we going to talk or are we going to sit here in silence?” He asked after a few minutes of complete silence between the two of you.

Your Y/EC eyes met his brown ones, and you nodded. “Yeah, just trying to figure out where to start.” You breathed out. “I don’t know how to start.”

“The beginning would probably be a good start.” He commented, not taking his eyes away from yours. “I’ve asked you twice now why you left, and while you did answer me, you could probably elaborate on that.”

You sighed. “I don’t-” You stopped and ran a hand through your hair, looking away from him for a moment before looking back at him. “I don’t know how.” You tell him honestly. “I don’t know how to explain what was going through my head at that time. All I know is that I felt like you stopped caring about me. It felt like you shut down completely. Harper died and you cut me out.” You stopped yourself and looked out the big front window, willing yourself not to cry. Your eyes were filling with tears but you blinked them away, you didn’t want to draw attention to the two of you by crying.

“I never stopped caring about you.” He whispered out, his hand coming across the table to rest on top of yours.

You looked back at him. “It sure seemed like it.” You replied quietly. “You were never there. You left me at the hospital and then you were never home and it felt like you just...shut down.”

“I did.” He said quietly. “But I didn’t stop caring about you. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to grieve her and be there for you.”

“I wanted us to grieve her together. I was scared of losing you too. I was scared that one night you weren’t going to come back home.”

He stopped. So that was what you had meant, not that he was going to find someone else. “When you said that yesterday I assumed you meant that I’d find someone else.” He admitted quietly.

“Well I was afraid of that too.” You admitted just as quietly, a bit sheepishly in fact. You sighed. “It was always a fear. But I was more worried that something was going to happen to you, you were drinking every night and you were grieving on top of that, I was worried something bad was going to happen.”

He nodded to you before sighing. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“And I’m sorry I left.” You told him honestly, your eyes meeting his. “But there’s not much we can do about it now, it’s in the past.”

He nodded. “But we can still talk about this.”

“Or maybe we can just leave it at that and move on.” You didn’t even realize you had said it until you saw his expression turn into a pained one, but he quickly masked it. You swallowed hard. “I think we owe it to ourselves to leave the past in the past and move on, to part ways on good terms and go our separate ways.”

He was quiet for a moment, studying your face before he finally spoke. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” You breathed out the lie with a definitive nod. “Yes, I think that’s what’s best.”

“But is that what you want?” He asked again.

You paused, it wasn’t what you wanted, but you weren’t going to go down that rabbit hole. “Yes.”

He nodded. “Then that’s what we’ll do.” You could see the change in his demeanor, he straightened up, slowly pulling his hand away from yours. “We can get some divorce papers drawn up and sign them, it shouldn’t be too difficult since we’ve already been separated for seven years and living separate lives.”

You cleared your throat and nodded. “All we’d have to do is sign the papers and then it’ll be over and we won’t have to worry about it anymore.” You gave a halfhearted shrug. “I, um, I’m gonna go.” You said quietly after a moment. “I’ll just get a cab back to the hotel.” You stood up.

“Y/N.” He stood up, only to be met with you holding a hand out to stop him, shaking your head.

“It’s fine.” You said quietly, heading towards the door. You were looking back as you walked out, seeing him sit back in his chair, and ended up running right into someone. You quickly turned to face them. “Oh my god I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. Are you okay?” You asked the woman in front of you quickly, recognizing her as the female doctor that Crockett was talking to earlier, this must be a frequent coffee spot for the hospital staff, or maybe it was their place. You felt a twinge of pain at that thought but pushed it away.

The brunette smiled at you and waved it off. “It’s fine.” She assured you. “You’re Crockett Marcel’s wife, right?”

You cleared your throat. “Soon to be ex wife, yes.” You nodded to her, hating the sound of it.

“Oh.” She seemed shocked by that statement. “I thought the two of you were going to work it out.”

You tilted your head and raised a brow at her. “Why would you assume that?” You hoped that didn’t sound as rude as you feared it did.

“Well, he just...seemed like he wasn’t over you.” She said uneasily, then shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s really none of my business.”

“It’s not.” You replied with a slight shrug. “But you two seem to be friends, so it’s okay.” You brushed it off. “What do you mean he seemed like he wasn’t over me?”

“Well when we were talking earlier, when he thought you left without saying anything, he was hurt.” She told you.

“Oh.” You barely spoke out as you looked around a bit, shocked by this new information and not sure what to do with it. “I’m sorry, I’m Y/N.” You offer out your hand to shake hers, which she does.

“Natalie.” She told you with a smile, releasing your hand.

“Well Natalie, it’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry if I’m not more friendly, I’m just…”

“Going through a lot, obviously.” Her smiled turned warmer, almost knowingly.

You nodded. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Well with everything that’s going on, plus the car accident you were in, I can imagine you might be a little frazzled.” Natalie commented with a slight shrug.

You nodded again. “Yeah…” You trailed off, a slight silence falling between the two of you and you were getting ready to make your exit.

“Again, I know this is none of my business, but if you still care about Crockett, I think you should talk to him. You guys might be able to work it out, if that’s what you want of course, because I’m pretty sure that’s what he wants.” It was obvious that she knew this was none of her business, and it was obvious that she was overstepping, but you couldn’t be mad because it was obvious that she was just trying to help.

You offered her a smile. “I’d love nothing more than to fix my marriage, but I don’t see that happening. There’s a lot of hurt there and I don’t think we’d be able to move past it.” That was a lie, you wondered if it was obvious. “And I don’t want to cause him any more pain than I already have.”

She nodded, she looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t.

You smiled a bit wider at her. “It was nice meeting you, Natalie, but I should really get going.” You stepped away then. You heard the door open as you were walking away and spared a glance back to see your husband step out, you had expected it to just be Natalie walking in. You quickened your pace, not wanting him to try to stop you from catching a cab.

Crockett saw you retreating from the cafe, then saw Natalie standing there, looking like she had just meddled.

“You should go after her.” Natalie told him, looking up at him with a friendly smile.

He looked at her for a moment before sighing. “Listen, I know you’re just trying to help, but don’t. She obviously doesn’t want to talk, much less work things out.”

“But she does.” Natalie insisted softly, still looking up at him. “I just talked to her and she does.”

“Please just stay out of it.” Crockett sighed.

Natalie sighed then too. “Fine, I will, but not before I say this. I just talked to her and she wants to work things out, she’s just scared.”

“And did she tell you what she’s scared of.”

“Being hurt and hurting you more than what’s already been done.” Natalie told him. “Don’t give up, you have a chance to work things out and get her back. I know if it was me and I had a chance to get my husband back, I’d do whatever it took.” She spoke softly, reaching out to squeeze his arm before stepping around him and walking into the coffee shop, leaving him standing there on the sidewalk alone with his thoughts.

#crockett marcel imagine #crockett marcel x reader #dr crockett marcel x reader #chicago med imagine #chicago med imagines #one chicago imagines

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thelawyerthatwaspromised · 5 years

Text

Episode 1 Should Have Been Titled “The Truth”

Simply put...there was major indications that we are getting dark!Dany, Jonsa, and political!Jon in this last season. The major signs and subtle nuances were extremely consistent. The only real complaints I’ve seen is the “flavor” of some of Jon’s actions in episode 1. It’s an understandable criticism but I really think we were fed quite well for a premiere and a TON of plot boxes were checked off and done so quickly enough that the “there’s no enough time!” argument against the Big 3 is really starting to ring hollow.

I think I’ll work largely going theory by theory here and showing what makes them all even more likely than ever.

Big 3 Jonsa Fan Theories

1.) dark!Dany

If you don’t know already...the dark!Dany theory is the idea that Daenerys Targaryen’s arc has been tell the story of an emerging antagonist - principally with Jon Snow as her main political foe.

This is probably the easiest of the Big 3 to identify in Winterfell. Right off the bat, we get a glimpse. The Northerners don’t approve of Dany, very clearly. She gets satisfaction when her dragons flyover and terrify the bejeebers out of the commoners.

Charming.

We move on to the terrifically uncomfortable first meeting with Sansa...and we all know how this went.

I think EC did a really good job conveying the air of superiority and her dissatisfaction with Sansa’s response.

Dany doesn’t have much a poker face. And it’s shown to be contentious for good reason.

This is the first time she’s ever been to WF and she expects to be called “My Queen” like everybody is Jorah Mormont. That’s just not how it works. The first town hall meeting with the North goes even worse than the initial greeting.

“What exactly do dragons eat anyway?” “Whatever they want.”

Bingo bango. If EVER you needed a money quote point to Dany both 1) being oblivious to what it means to be a good politician; and 2) being an entitled ruler who believes the rules don’t apply to her...this is it.

And it mirrors what we’ve seen before with regard to the dragons.

Ring a bell?

Then we get maybe the darkest Dany moment of the episode. Well...at least one of the top 10 darkest Dany moments of the episode.

“If she can’t respect me...”

Then what, Dany?

Her subtle head shake before she says it conveys a “don’t you get it, Jon?” She follows it up with a very intentional narrowing of her eyes...she’s letting Jon fill in the blanks of what she means here. It’s impossible to ignore the implications.

Notice that Jon doesn’t look too thrilled and gets yet more confirmation that he is walking a very, very fine line.

Next, we get the culmination of a lot of offseason speculation that, as a Jonsa/dark!Dany/political!Jon believer...was told was NEVER going to become an issue: the burning of Randyll and Dickon Tarly.

Let’s recap...

Wonderful advice. Then..

We know how this turned out. And we were shown pretty emphatically that, yes, burning a father and son alive when they are prisoners of war is going to be viewed negatively by a family member of that father and son and it’s probably going to have an effect on how a region feels about you when your father started a war by deciding to burn a father and son alive (or burning a father and strangling a son, as in the books).

So she bumps into Sam. Because Sam’s connection to Jorah does, again, matter. Sam happens to mention he belongs to House Tarly...and Dany’s demeanor gets noticeably stiffer and more steely.

Let’s unpack this.

Randyll Tarly wasn’t executed for being a bad father. He wasn’t executed as a form of justice for “betraying” House Tyrell. He was executed specifically because he would not bend the knee. Bending the knee would have allowed Randyll Tarly to have the exact same lifestyle he’d had before he’d bent the knee. So, again, this was not an act of justice. It was an act of dominance. Unequivocally.

Then...she reveals that Dickon Tarly was executed likewise for:

...standing by his dad. Please, if you have belief in Daenerys as a hero at this point, consider the extraordinary meaning of her words here.

The Loot Train Battle was a temporary triumph and a long term disaster for Dany. There’s not enough food to eat and she executed the members of maybe the greatest non-great house (in stature) in Westeros, people that could have at the very least been valuable hostages. And it’s hurting her now even double because the surviving son of the man she executed is best friends with the man she wants to romance and who holds her only chance for political cohesiveness in her newly “acquired” kingdom. What a complete and total disaster for her. Rightfully so.

2.) political!Jon

I’m going to say that political!Jon is probably the hardest of the Big 3 to identify in the episode...but then again it was hard to identify last season too. The difference is that I’ve actually been seeing much more popular speculation that Jon isn’t necessarily as blind and foolish as he might be leading on.

First, let me remind everyone of what I think is basically the central thesis of political!Jon:

What I’m seeing from Jon, maybe more than I even anticipated from Season 7 is that his actions are also colored by a distinct emotion that seems to be increasing as the “game” goes on: fear.

Yes, Jon is afraid of what Dany might be capable of doing. To his war efforts. To his home. To his loved ones. So now, I’m practically ready to amend my central thesis of political!Jon to read:

political!Jon is the theory that Jon’s main objective for the entirety of the time after he left Winterfell was centered on obtaining Daenerys as an ally so that her resources could be redirected to the Army of the Dead. This objective was the primary reason for every significant action he took in Season 7, culminating in Jon determining that he must bend the knee in order to get Daenerys’ help in the North - and an increasing realization that, at all costs, Jon must never appear to be a threat to Daenerys’ quest for power else he and his loved ones would become her enemy and he is not powerful enough to stop her.

It’s startling in a way. He truly is Torrhen Stark in this scenario. Think back to what Jon’s seen:

A terrifying first meeting where he’s told that by calling himself a king, he’s in open rebellion against Daenerys...

And asserted her belief that she is entitled to his home...

She leveraged his fear of destruction to demand that he bend the knee...

He watched her berate her Hand for the crime of not wanting his family dead quite enough for her liking...

He had to talk her out of using her dragons on King’s Landing...

He knows how she views her “children” as her source of “specialness” and that she craves being viewed as special...

Because she told him exactly that...

And he knows that even after SEEING the Night King, she gave him no indication that she was willing to halt her war efforts in the south to help save the world unless Cersei agreed. (she also stupidly believed Cersei)

So we get to the first town hall meeting...and Jon drops this incredible truth bomb...

Act surprised if you want...but he’s only confirming what he’s said the whole damn time...

He declared in front of EVERYBODY that he could not protect the North while holding onto his crown. He doesn’t care about Dany getting her chair. He doesn’t care about her war against Cersei. BUT because of who Dany revealed herself to be throughout the Season 7 (very powerful and very volatile) Jon’s learned that being her enemy is an untenable position.

Follow this thought process if you’re still skeptical:

Did Jon believe his crown was important?

Yes, he refused to give it up during the season because of exactly that. It does matter.

Why would he change his mind then?

Theory 1: His relationship with Dany has shown him that titles don’t matter. Ok, well that’s hogwash because now Dany is threatening Sansa for not respecting her enough...and Jon himself was threatened in Season 7 for not bowing to her and calling her Queen.

Theory 2: Jon is intimately aware of how important titles are to Daenerys. And that’s exactly why he has to make her believe he could never be threat to her. He knows the things she’s said; the things she’s threatened. He knows how her priorities...else the Dragonpit summit wouldn’t have been necessary to get Dany’s agreement to help in the North. Jon is terrified of the idea of becoming her enemy because he knows how incapable Dany is at seeing things any way other than black and white.

Considering Jon explicitly states that having the crown prevents him protecting the North...I know which theory I find more plausible. You can make up your own mind on that.

This explains Jon’s behavior, I think, better than any other idea. Jon fears Dany. He fears that speaking out against Dany exposes people he cares about. He needs them to realize that this is a dangerous situation. And I think they get that - but I’m not quite sure yet that they understand the amount of destruction that Dany has openly threatened to exact on her enemies.

Sansa is more outspoken now and more confident. When Jon jokes with Arya about Sansa thinking she’s smarter than everyone, he very obviously remembers back when Sansa said that Dany would try to force his political submission before he left for Dragonstone. And that’s exactly what happened. He told Tyrion that Sansa is smart. It’s not a secret that he knows Sansa is smart. But, in my opinion, his fear is centered on Sansa being outspoken to the point where she enrages Dany and puts herself at risk...which is EXACTLY what happened...

This is precisely what Jon fears.

“I’ll protect you, I promise” and

“I had a choice: keep my crown or protect the North.”

His submission is his way of preserving lives.

What’s the best indication that Jon fears Dany? It’s the R+L=J reveal.

So Jon’s finding this out for the first time...his initial reaction is disgust. It took Jon 16 seconds to say “I’m so sorry”. He was at a loss for words. And then Jon has to deflect, deflect, deflect.

His next words? Do they address the problem? Or do they display the heart of Jon’s problem? The latter.

This is a big nothing from Jon. The reality is that this war has put Jon in an absolutely terrible situation and he hates it. But what “war”? Hasn’t he pledged himself in TWO wars?

Why would defeating the NK be in any way connected to Dany killing the Tarlys in the other war? The answer? Jon’s only doing what he’s doing and not openly confronting the realities of who Dany is because he absolutely believes that he MUST delay addressing this situation because raising issues with Dany when the war with the NK is so near creates havoc that Jon can’t even comprehend.

He’s terrified of addressing what’s happened to Sam’s family and he’s probably not even sure what to do next.

To Sam’s credit, he cuts right through the bullshit and presses Jon on the “rightness” of Dany’s actions: “would you have done it?”

I’m not going to go into some silly discussion about “well gosh, hanging Olly is exactly the same as executing the Tarlys”. They’re not the same, but it doesn’t really matter because according to the writers - executing prisoners of war for not bending the knee is very very bad and significantly different than hanging someone who stabbed you in the chest. And we all know Jon Snow wouldn’t execute someone for the simple crime of not bending the knee and recognizing him as a monarch. Every single shallow thing Jon says back is countered immediately by Sam because we know that Sam’s right.

“I wasn’t a king” “But you were. You’ve always been.” “I gave up my crown, Sam...”

JON WALKS AWAY AFTER TELLING SAM HE GAVE UP HIS CROWN.

He’s visibly upset about it. Sam tells him that Dany executed his family...and Jon feels powerless to do anything about it. He tries to walk away when telling Sam he gave up his crown.

Ok, so, if titles don’t matter, then why does having a crown or not having a crown determine whether Jon can say whether he would or wouldn’t have made the same choice Dany made? Jon is saying it’s his not his place to say because he doesn’t have a crown anymore - just after saying that titles and crowns don’t matter.

They do matter. And Jon knows this. But he can’t say it. Not yet.

The last bit of powerful political!Jon evidence is in Jon’s reaction to being told he’s the rightful heir. That, in Sam’s opinion, Jon should be the King and Dany should not by Queen. (gonna go ahead and say this means Sam’s not going to be in favor of Jon-Dany marriage...)

Jon’s first thoughts are to step towards Sam and express anger that Ned lied all those years. Then Sam explains that Ned did it to protect him. And that Jon is the TRUE King. And this is where Jon’s episode-long poker face starts to really fall apart. Jon’s backing away. Stunned. Not totally unexpected...but it’s his first words that REALLY paint the picture.

He’s immediately terrified of the talk of succession. If Jon is SO SURE that titles don’t matter. If he’s SO SURE that she’s a good queen. If he’s SO SURE that “it doesn’t matter” - why are these his thoughts. Why is he panicked? Why is he unable to make eye contact? He learns that his birth wasn’t anything like he thought and his first real words about it jump to what it means for him politically.

Sam says what he thinks: she shouldn’t be the Queen. And this evokes terror in Jon’s mind...

It’s treason. His birth status would be viewed as treason. If Dany is a just queen. If she believes in the rule of law. Then Jon SHOULD be the King and Dany should not be the Queen. it’s the line of succession. But...again...titles DO matter. They matter to Daenerys above all. Jon has spent the entire time since he bent the knee trying to craft an image of himself as a total non-threat.

He had made the best decision for the safety of his people.

“When you play the Game of Thrones; you win or you die.”

Jon had very intentionally played the Game of Thrones by not playing the game of thrones. It was the only way for him to survive. Now, The Truth of his birth throws his entire plan out the window. He’s scared. He’s backing away. He’s panicking. Because he knows what it means. He realized at some point that when it comes to Daenerys Stormborn or House Targaryen, you bend the knee and live or you do not, and you die.

Daenerys essentially uses “you win or you die” as her motto. Jon chose the option that Mance refused. He bent the knee. He became Torrhen Stark. Except now imagine he is exactly the threat to Dany’s reign that he tried so tirelessly to avoid.

It’s so clear in Jon’s reactions that he’s afraid. It’s so clear in what he said that he came to view his crown as a threat to the safety of his people BECAUSE titles matter so deeply to Dany. RLJ just exposed ALL of that because his reaction is utter terror.

I can’t even get to the Jonsa stuff because this got so long...but I’m going to end with the central question of the episode and one that Jon doesn’t answer, mostly because of the terrible implications of the question itself.

No. She wouldn’t. And he’s known it all along. And The Truth of that is what scares him most of all.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #political jon theory #political!jon #tltwp meta #anti targaryen restoration #dark!dany #anti jonerys

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sheikah · 5 years

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Close Quarters

This is the first bit of a fic that I intended to be for @annabelleebythesea back in December (hence the winter and Christmas setting haha) but couldn’t finish in time. It’s still only halfway done, but I’ve decided to publish the first part so that it’ll hopefully motivate me to finish the rest later :) This is unbeta’d and just for fun. Enjoy! Read below or on AO3.

“Think of it as … professional development.” Olenna Tyrell smiled blithely as the room erupted with protests. It was one thing to ask faculty to attend an in-service meeting before the Christmas holiday, but quite another to force them up the mountains for a team-building retreat. Even Dany, ordinarily agreeable and understanding when it came to Olenna’s stringent policies, couldn’t help feeling a little mutinous at the idea.

“And just what professional qualities will we be developing while holed up in your time share, Principal Tyrell?” Cersei Lannister’s dislike for their principal was well-known, and as the drama teacher she was, expectedly, outspoken and a little theatrical.

For once, Dany found herself in agreement with Cersei, however impertinent her question. She couldn’t see the logic in a faculty ski trip.

True, Dany was somewhat new to White Harbor and its flagship secondary school, Winterfell High. She was in her second year of employment teaching history and had yet to establish many lasting friendships among her fellow teachers. But that was alright. Friends and colleagues weren’t a part of her classroom, and she managed quite well in the instruction of her classes on her own. No snowy excursions or forced mingling with other faculty were going to improve her rapport with her students.

But unlike many of the outraged teachers in the room Dany lacked a valid excuse for avoiding a holiday getaway. She had no family waiting back home for a visit, no children of her own to look after. In all likelihood she would spend the entire holiday break at home with her three cats were it not for this trip. A lonely prospect, but not enough to stoke her interest in the retreat.

To her right, Tyrion Lannister, resident wine-sodden English teacher, shifted restlessly in his seat, a sardonic grin forming on his lips.

“I hear the luge is all the rage on the conference circuit this semester. Excellent way to build your CV.” There was a scatter of chuckles from among the gathered faculty, though Cersei, Tyrion’s elder sister, seemed less than amused.

Principal Tyrell merely stared at Tyrion without a flicker of warmth until the room fell silent again.

“If you ever bothered to attend a conference, instead of spending your weekends at the pub, you’d understand the importance of networking with others in your field, Mr. Lannister,” she returned coolly.

Tyrion sat up a little straighter at the jab, but offered no argument.

“That’s all very well,” Cersei pressed, forcing a strained smile. “But we’re not in one another’s fields, are we? Missandei is fluent in languages I’ve never heard of, but she can’t teach Mr. Snow’s students trigonometry. Neither of them can direct a full theatrical production. Our work is different. Each of us, every day, has a different approach to what we do. And sending us all into the mountains for some juvenile bonding ritual is no way to improve our test scores.”

“What do you care about test scores?” Sansa Stark demanded from the next row over. “You’re the theater teacher.”

“You’re one to talk. As if home ec is really setting our girls up for success on the SAT,” Cersei sneered.

“It’s not just about that. A trip like this, we might all get to know each other.” Sansa offered Olenna an angelic smile. If nothing else, she was better at faking it than the rest of them.

“Yes,” agreed Oberyn Martell, eyebrows wagging suggestively. “I think we could stand getting to know another better.”

Dany sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at them both. Sansa was the home economics teacher and a nice girl from what little Dany knew of her, if a bit of a brownnose. But her support of Olenna’s silly trip felt like treachery to the rest of them. And as for Oberyn, the always-inappropriate gym coach? He was just eager for an excuse to carouse with his colleagues

“It’s about communication,” Olenna insisted. “Look at you all! You’re riotous at the prospect of a paid holiday simply because it involves interaction with one another. You need each other. To discuss learning trends, problems across disciplines, classroom management styles, conflict resolution, conduct issues, ideas for student engagement. You’re almost as detached as our phone-obsessed teenagers! But we need to work together, to improve our learning environment, student completion, and, evidently, faculty morale.”

A scoff sounded behind her and Dany turned to find the aforementioned Mr. Snow glowering as usual. Jon was the resident math teacher. He was young, like Dany, and the students loved him. She couldn’t imagine why.

“Something to add, Mr. Snow?” Dany asked, turning in her seat to fix him with her lilac stare. There was a flash of surprise in his eyes when they found hers, but it was gone just as quickly.

“Of course not, Ms. Targaryen.” There was ice in his reply, a promise of more and unkinder words left unspoken. Typical.

Olenna passed a curious glance between the two of them before nodding with finality.

“Good. With that settled you’ll all receive the details of your itinerary through your faculty email. The only thing left to decide on is transportation arrangements.”

“Transportation?” Tyrion asked. “Won’t we all just pile merrily into one of those yellow deathtraps the students are lucky enough to ride in every day?”

Olenna’s glare was enough to make even Dany flinch.

“Our school busses are very safe, Mr. Lannister, I assure you. The incident last year had nothing to do with the integrity of the vehicle. Mr. Dondarrion didn’t see the oncoming vehicle in time on account of his … impaired sight.”

Tyrion only blinked at Olenna, his smile never wavering. It took all of Dany’s self-control not to erupt into laughter at his side.

“For the gods’ sake, can we end this meeting? What transportation are you providing, Principal Tyrell?” Cersei demanded, already standing to leave.

“None.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” Olenna answered calmly. “None. While our busses are more than safe for their intended purposes they aren’t rated for ascent to high elevations, especially in the winter months. No. You’ll need to take your own vehicles. We’ll pay for your mileage, of course, but we’re only budgeted for three reimbursements, so you’ll need to carpool.”

A synchronized groan rose all around the room, but Dany was silent, panic overtaking her at this latest development. She hadn’t considered the possibility that she might need to drive herself, much less any others. She wasn’t used to driving here, to the snow-laden roads and their treacherous slickness. Back home, she could count on one hand the number of times the roads had frozen over. Her city wasn’t prepared for it. Why bother? That far South, it simply wasn’t cold enough. So any time the conditions didn’t favor driving, businesses simply closed, the citizens bundled up safely in their homes until the streets were passable again.

Since the move to White Harbor Dany had used a rideshare service to get to work when the weather was poor, always telling herself that she’d learn how to drive in the snow eventually, when she was ready. Just not yet.

Apparently she’d have to teach herself over the next two days. That, or hope she was lucky enough not to be chosen to ferry the others up the mountain in her car.

“Cersei,” Olenna said, interrupting her reverie. She squinted down at a notebook that lay open on the podium before her. “You’ll drive up first, being that you’ve got no after-school engagements on Friday. Based on their schedules, it looks like you can take Sansa and Missandei with you.”

Cersei swore under her breath but nodded, Sansa looking more than a little disappointed behind her. In front of Dany, Missandei turned in her seat, a grimace of dismay on her pretty face.

“Fuck me,” she mouthed, shaking her head. No one in their right mind would want to ride up with Cersei. Dany couldn’t help sympathizing her with her friend. She indulged in a bit of pity for herself, too. She’d hoped that if nothing else, she and Missandei would at least ride together.

“Samwell,” Olenna continued, still eyeing the schedule carefully. “You’ll also leave Friday afternoon, with Oberyn, Tyrion, and my granddaughter.” This time Dany couldn’t suppress her snort of amusement. Of all the employees at Winterfell High, Samwell Tarly was the most tightly wound and by-the-book. He was a nervous man, always wary of disgruntled students and overbearing parents. How the timid librarian was going to survive a weekend away with the likes of Oberyn and Tyrion ribbing him was beyond her. At least Olenna’s lovely granddaughter, Margaery, would be there. She was kind but firm, the students’ best-loved counselor. With her around, the men wouldn’t be too hard on Sam.

Looking around the room, Dany realized with horror that this left only three people unassigned: herself, Davos Seaworth, the aging guidance counselor, and Jon Snow.

“Mr. Seaworth is out with the flu,” Olenna reported, finally looking up from her schedule. “So that leaves … Ms. Targaryen, you have the honors’ society meeting Friday evening. And Mr. Snow, you’ve got fencing practice. That means the two of you will have to ride together, leaving Friday night.”

No.

Dany opened her mouth to protest but Olenna spoke first, her eyes suddenly glued to the ornate gold watch on her wrist.

“We’ll adjourn now. Much to do. Look for more information in your emails.” With that, the principal bustled out of the room in a sweep of her dark green skirt, leaving the rest of them grumbling in her wake.

“I can’t believe this,” Dany muttered, meeting Missandei’s pitying gaze. “I can’t ride up with Jon.”

She turned hesitantly to see if he was still behind her, wondering if she should approach him first to make a plan, explain that she couldn’t drive. But he was already gone, the desk he’d been sitting at vacant.

“What is it with the two of you anyway?” Tyrion asked, quirking a brow at her as they filed out of the room with the others.

“What do mean? Nothing.” Dany paused, staring down to fiddle at a hangnail on her thumb as she scrambled for the right words, determinedly avoiding Missandei’s knowing look. “I don’t like him is all. I’d think even you could understand that. He isn’t the friendly sort.”

The lie was easy, natural so that she almost believed it herself. The truth was less simple, and dodging it now only brought the memories back with staggering force.

It had been almost a year since the office Christmas party. Dany had only been teaching at Winterfell for three months back then, still learning the ropes, still getting to know its colorful cast of faculty and staff

She and Missandei had been fast friends. They were close in age, hired at the same time, and Dany’s interest in world history paired well with Missandei’s knowledge of various languages and cultures. They often planned joint projects in their classes together, had dinner on the weekends, and spent lazy evenings at one another’s apartments grading papers and splitting a bottle of wine.

Dany’s friendship with Tyrion was less conventional. He’d been dubbed her “new faculty mentor,” a job he approached with dry humor and no real advice. But the arrangement had paired them together at various work functions until she had developed a grudging affection for the sardonic older man.

Dany was grateful for her newfound friends, and for the most part she was happy with her colleagues at Winterfell; but even then, Jon Snow had found his way under her skin. He was quiet and withdrawn in the lounge, his nose always in a book, earbuds in place to block out any chance at the distraction of conversation. He taught math, she knew, but he was usually reading fiction instead of working through equations. Adventure thrillers and fantasy epics.

Every day he brought a healthy lunch from home, and he was almost always early through the door in the morning because he came to work straight from the gym. His dark-colored dress shirts fit well enough to show the sturdy build of his arms and shoulders. At least his hard work was paying off.

Outside his classroom he never talked to anyone save his best friend, Sam, and the occasional chat with Tyrion for a book recommendation. Even his cousin, Sansa, seemed to prefer Margaery to the company of the seemingly cold Jon. So Mr. Snow was a man of rigid discipline and few words, but Dany liked nothing more than a hopeless cause.

It didn’t help matters that she frequently looked up from her morning coffee in the lounge to find him watching her silently from his seat across the room. The moment she caught him looking he’d quickly drop his gaze back to the book in his lap. Ordinarily it would have annoyed her to be stared at, but Jon’s attention was a little flattering. He was handsome, with a fine, bearded jaw and big brown eyes framed by Warby Parker wayfarers. Yet despite his frequent glances her way, they’d never spoken past the obligatory introduction in her first week.

Jon’s withdrawn behavior would’ve been sufficient to catch her attention on its own. Dany had a history of involvement with inappropriate or unavailable men, after all. Her catastrophic breakup with Drogo would have been reason enough to move across the country, even without the job offer at Winterfell. So Dany had been ready to write Jon off as another case of her inconvenient attraction to, for lack of a better word, assholes.

But then she’d seen Jon teaching. She’d happened by his classroom on the way to the lounge during her free period, and the little rectangular window into his room framed a portrait of an entirely different man.

He was animated and energetic, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows as he moved from one corner of the board to the next, scrawling out numbers and graphs and turning to his students with a smile so dazzling it stopped her in her tracks. Who got that excited about algebra?

Maybe he wasn’t the office grump after all, just a man who didn’t much care for idle small talk and forced pleasantries. Dany could respect that. She wasn’t exactly a social butterfly herself, and being the new girl in a small town like White Harbor was a lonely business. A part of her wanted to fix that.

So she’d gotten absurdly dolled up for the office Christmas party that year, barely zipping herself into a sequined red cocktail dress and using the occasion to break in a pair of her highest heels, shiny black patent leather.

The party was held off-campus so that they could all indulge in the booze they so desperately needed around the holidays. The school’s hospitality fund had gone toward an open tab at the sports bar off Main Street, Tyrion’s favorite weekend haunt.

The place had been spruced up for Christmas, string lights along the bar, red and green window paint near the entrance broadcasting season’s greetings to the passersby. The tables had been pushed back or removed to make space for a crude dance floor, and music was blasting through the sound system at a near-deafening volume.

Dany could feel the bass in her bones, a humming vibration that excited her. It’d been too long since she’d had any real fun or done anything for herself. She was always so focused—working toward her next career goal, learning new ways to approach her students. That night was supposed to be different.

Things started off well enough. She slid up on the barstool next to Tyrion, already a few beers in and chatting up the bartender.

“Targaryen!” he’d greeted her enthusiastically before sweeping his eyes over her dress. “You look like an HR violation waiting to happen.”

Dany snorted, shaking her head demurely. That was good. She hadn’t worn a skin-tight, sparkly dress to blend into the background. But it wasn’t Tyrion’s admiration she was after.

“Put her first drink on me,” he instructed the bartender, throwing a friendly nod Dany’s way.

“Thanks. Vodka soda, please. With a twist.”

Tyrion frowned at her drink order.

“And two shots of whiskey straight up,” he added, winking at Dany’s surprise.

“Tyrion, no,” she protested quickly. “That’s too much, I—”

“Not to worry,” he sang out with a grin. “It’s not for me. One for you, and one to quiet down this insufferable chatterbox to my left.”

“Who?” she wondered aloud. Tyrion just patted the bartop twice in parting and slipped easily from his seat and onto the floor. On the other side of his now-empty stool sat Jon Snow. His expression was one of confusion to match Dany’s own as Tyrion picked up his drink and backed away from them.“

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he warned, and with a wink, he disappeared into the crowd.

Dany scoffed before turning back to Jon. He looked smart in a slim cut black suit. He wore black a lot, she’d noticed. Black like his hair. He had nice hair.

“Hi,” she offered simply. The greeting came out in an awkward sort of yell to be heard over the music and the dead space of the empty seat between them.

“Uh, yeah. Hey,” Jon returned. She saw his gaze dip to take in her outfit, the plunge of her neckline. He swallowed with a bob of his Adam’s apple before dragging his eyes back to hers.

A clink of glass against the bar signaled the arrival of the shots and Dany eyed them apprehensively. She didn’t drink nearly often enough to be comfortable shooting whiskey. But she’d resolved to have fun tonight. To relax. And with this night marking the beginning of a week’s holiday break from work, she didn’t have any reason to be up early the next day.

“We don’t have to—I mean, you don’t have to take it. Tyrion is just—he’s pushy. But you don’t have to drink that,” Jon assured her, leaning across the stool to be heard over the noise of the bar.

That’s more words than you’ve ever said to me, Dany thought, a smile tugging at her red-lacquered lips.

“I know,” she said, taking the shots in hand. She held one out to Jon with a nod of encouragement. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Snow.”

Jon stared at her hand for a moment of indecision before accepting the proffered whiskey.

“Merry Christmas, Daenerys.”

“You can call me Dany,” she offered. “My friends call me Dany.”

They toasted with a clink of their glasses that sloshed some of the liquid onto Dany’s fingers before she brought it to her mouth and downed it one gulp. It was strong and bitter on her tongue, burning all the way down her throat, and Dany had to fight the urge to gag from the taste. She’d never been one for hard liquor.

Jon appeared totally unaffected, swallowing it without the merest wince of discomfort. He looked up just as Dany was sucking the spilled, sticky drops off her skin, eyes rivetted to the sight of her finger between her lips. He shifted in his seat before turning back to the bar.

Dany sighed, taking the vodka soda Tyrion had bought for her from the bartop and sipping it to dispel the lingering flavor of the whiskey. She could see Jon fidgeting out of the corner of her eye, nursing a pint of some draught. The empty seat between them felt like a canyon. She wanted him to scoot over and sit by her. Strike up conversation. Something.

But he didn’t. Instead he traced a fingertip idly through the frost of condensation on his beer glass, determinedly keeping his eyes straight ahead. Apparently, he was done talking.

Dany pressed her lips together in irritation, her stare boring into the side of his head. She wasn’t used to this, to having to be the pursuer. In any other circumstance she would be the one rebuffing a man’s advances.

She polished off her whole drink waiting for him to make a move. And then another. It was a lot for someone her size. Even more for someone who drank as seldom as she. But Jon’s silence was maddening enough to keep her going, anything for a distraction from the awkward tension that hung palpably between them.

It was tempting to abandon him altogether and join the crowd on the dancefloor. Dany had already spied Missandei in a sleek black cocktail dress, dancing close with her boyfriend Grey. They looked happy. And she knew that somewhere out there Tyrion was several whiskies deep and engaged in some drunken philosophical discourse with an unwilling participant. Most likely Samwell Tarly. That’d be something to watch.

But she was too curious about Jon to leave things as they were. This was the closest they’d gotten to a real conversation. She’d seen him all those times in the lounge at work, even in faculty meetings. He stared at her. That meant he was attracted to her, didn’t it? So what was he waiting for?

Missandei bellied up to the bar next to her, giggling helplessly, Grey in tow.

“Dany!” she greeted her, patting her a little too hard on the back before ordering another glass of wine.

“Why aren’t you dancing?”

“Wrong shoes for it,” she fibbed, shrugging. “Enjoying the party?”

“Very much,” Missandei confirmed. Grey only smiled. He didn’t speak much English, which was just as well since Missandei was an expert in his native Valyrian tongue.

When her wine was delivered Missandei raised it to Dany, who toasted her with a clink of her own glass.

“Merry Christmas, Dany.”

“Merry Christmas,” she returned brightly. Missandei’s jovial spirit was infectious, even as she peered over Dany’s shoulder, no-doubt eyeing her sulking neighbor. She raised a brown questioningly at Dany before taking another sip of her wine.

“See you out there then?”

“Maybe later,” Dany replied, hoping it was true. She had to admit that it looked like a lot more fun than her current occupation.

When the couple had gone, she turned back to Jon with a sigh loud enough to be heard even over the boom of the music.

“So,” she began, scooting toward him and onto the empty barstool at last. “What’s your problem?”

His face hardened instantly, posture going rigid.

“Excuse me?”

She was being rude. She knew that much, but the heady combination of liquid courage coursing through her veins and the weeks of compounded curiosity about this man spurred her on anyway.

“Why did you come here if you’re only going to sit there pouting?”

“I’m not pouting. I’m having a pint at a bar. What else would you have me do?”

“I don’t know, dance.”

He scoffed, shaking his head.

“I don’t dance.”

Dany rolled her eyes, sucking at her straw as it rattled loudly in her empty glass.

“Another one, please,” she called, raising her drink in the air to call the bartender over their way.

“You might want to slow down,” Jon cautioned. “You’ve been putting those away pretty fast all night.”

“So you’ve been watching me ‘all night,’ but couldn’t bother saying a word?” Jon shrunk back, clearly uncomfortable. Good, Dany thought. At least he can feel something.

When her drink arrived she took it at once, defiantly holding Jon’s gaze as she brought the straw to her lips and took a deep drink. The nerve of him, really, telling her she ought to slow down. He made no further protests, though, and Dany could feel his eyes on her mouth as she drank.

“So you don’t dance,” she noted. “And you don’t talk.”

“I never said I didn’t talk,” he fired back.

“But you haven’t.”

“Well, neither have you!”

Fair enough. She swallowed, trying to find a suitable response. He was right, of course. But she’d left the door open for conversation, hadn’t she? She’d told him her nickname, she’d taken the gods-damned shot of whiskey. The ball had been in his court, then, and he’d let it roll right past him. For an hour.

“Fine,” she relented finally. “We’re talking now. So, um. Why did you come here tonight, anyway? This doesn’t really seem like your scene.”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing myself,” he answered, swishing his drink idly in his hand. “This isn’t exactly going how I’d thought it would.”

Interesting.

“How did you think it would go?”

His hand stilled around his glass, his eyes finding hers. There was something in them that sucked the air right out of her, something serious and suggestive. Maybe she was right, after all. Maybe he did want her.

“I, ah.” Jon cleared his throat. “I don’t know. I thought for sure Tyrion would’ve been kicked out by now.”

She giggled at his unexpected humor, nearly toppling from her precarious seat on the stool. “Maybe he has,” she pointed out, shrugging. “Haven’t seen him in awhile, have we?”

Jon smiled at that—a handsome, disarming smile. It put her at ease to see it, to be reminded that under his coarse exterior was the kind man she’d seen in the classroom before.

“So when you aren’t sitting at bars avoiding dancing and talking,” she teased. “What do you do for fun?”

He shrugged. “I like training, exercise. I run and hike with my dog. I do a bit of reading. And I’m a fencing instructor.”

Dany snorted, inhaling a burning swig of her vodka soda and coughing to clear it. Her eyes teared from the choking sensation, but even through the blur she could see Jon’s scowl.

“Fencing?” she asked, gasping for breath. “Fencing?”

“Aye, fencing,” he answered, bristling. “What of it?”

“You’re—you’re a nerd, Jon Snow,” she announced, his obvious grumpiness only adding to her amusement. She tried to imagine it, Jon in one of those little white practice suits she’d seen in the movies, face hidden behind a mesh mask, curls stuffed under a helmet, sword-fighting like they were in some period drama. Being a history nerd herself she could appreciate the hobby, but it didn’t make the idea of the surly Jon prancing his way through fencing footwork any less hilarious.

“A ‘nerd?’ Gods, what are you, ten?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

“You’re a fencing math teacher. Face it.”

“Fencing is a noble craft, an art-form dating back centuries. You ought to know, history expert and all.”

“Still a nerd,” she grinned.

“I’m not,” he insisted, but she could see the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

“Alright, if you’re not a nerd, then prove it. A nerd wouldn’t dance with me,” she challenged playfully. “Come on, prove me wrong.”

He blinked at her, slowly uncrossing his arms.

“Fine,” he agreed, shrugging out of his jacket. He stood up and held out a hand, refusing to meet her eyes. “One song.”

Dany’s lips curled upward in a sultry grin, excitement thrumming through her. She wanted him. More than she’d thought she would, and the prospect of dancing with him had her body bursting with anxious energy. She took a final sip of her drink before setting it on the bartop next to her clutch and accepting Jon’s hand.

It was warm, warm and rough and big. He laced his fingers through hers and then turned away leading her through the press of bar patrons and out to the dancefloor.

The crowd had somewhat thinned from earlier that night, though Missandei and Grey were still going; Margaery and Sansa, too, laughing breathlessly and stumbling about. Dany didn’t really see anyone else she recognized among the dancers, though it was hard to tell in the semi-darkness.

The music was even louder here, the tall speakers abutting the crude wooden dancefloor. It was typical club fare, lots of bass, energetic beat. Ordinarily it wasn’t Dany’s type of music, but tonight she couldn’t have chosen anything better. When Jon turned to face her she saw uncertainty and nervousness etched into his features, but when she guided his hands to her hips they felt natural enough, and soon they were swaying and stepping in time with the song.

It didn’t take long for them to slip into an easy rhythm. The music pounded out louder than her own pulse in her ears, the dark of the bar casting everything in a haze of smoke and laughter. Dany was just drunk enough to be fearless and free. She didn’t even notice when she stepped out of turn, or the pain in her feet from her ill-advised stilettos. Everything blurred together into sensation and instinct.

It had been awhile, but Dany had loved dancing and clubbing with her friends back home. Even so, dancing with a man was different. She’d always seen it as a test of chemistry, rhythm and compatibility made physical. If that was true, Jon was passing the test with flying colors, holding her temptingly close one moment and spinning her out with an effortless flow in the next. Dany found herself returning the flash of his smile peeping out at her in the dark. He was good.

“I thought you couldn’t dance!”

“I never said I couldn’t,” he shouted back over the music, lifting her abruptly out of a dip, her hair whipping in the air. “I said I didn’t.”

For a heated moment they stood, breathing heavily from the dance, her face inches from his.

“I’m glad you changed your mind.”

The song ended on an instant of silence, their panting breaths suddenly deafening in her ears. Dany tried to hide her disappointment. It was over too quickly. Jon’s closeness, the grip of his hands and the dizzy excitement of moving with him on the dancefloor had only served to make her want him more. A tease. But despite his earlier “one song” declaration, when the next song filled the room with sound, he didn’t let her go.

Instead, he twirled her around in his arms, plastering her body to his and splaying his palms over her hips to hold her against him. She gasped, covering his hands with her own and relaxing into his hold. The song was slower than the first, and she writhed against Jon in time with the beat, her ass pressing at his hips.

She fell into something like a trance. All their prior hesitance melted away into a delicious euphoria as she danced shamelessly in Jon’s arms, breathing in the spice of his cologne, relishing in the heat of his palms through her dress, his breath at her ear and on her neck as they moved together. The second song blended into a third, and then a fourth, and soon Dany stopped counting. She felt wild and desirable, sweating from exertion, hair a mess and skin flushed. Jon was everywhere, all lingering touches and breathy exhales, his body moving sinuously with hers.

It felt filthy to dance with him this way, especially at a work function of all things. But Dany found it hard to care about prying eyes with Jon’s hands sliding up from her waist, the pronounced feel of what she knew to be his erection throbbing at her backside.

For months she’d done nothing more than steal a glance across the staff lounge, pass in the hall close enough to brush his shoulder. Every moment had made her ache with some unsatisfied need. To be so close now, finally, was enough to make her wet with anticipation. The palpable attraction between them, the reciprocal, fluid sync of their movement went beyond anything she’d ever expected.

Jon’s quiet reserve had intrigued her before, but she’d never dreamt it was masking this—that underneath his careful exterior he was so passionate and uninhibited. It was like her touch had flipped a switch, lit a fire, burning his mask away to reveal a wolf in a man’s clothing. Yes—a wolf, and she wanted nothing so much as to be devoured.

Dany could feel her dress riding up almost to her hips as she danced, grinding back on Jon with his leg shoved up between hers. Every touch was like a promise of what could be if only they weren’t in public, if only they were alone.

She lifted her hands to feel for him behind her, grabbing blindly for his face, her fingers raking through his short beard. His palm was hot on her throat, guiding her head back until it rested at his shoulder, angling her face to his.

All at once the music crescendoed and Dany crushed their mouths together, grateful then for the towering heels that gave her height enough to match him. The kiss was rough and frantic, charged with all the building fervor from their dance. His lips were soft but unyielding, his beard scraping roughly at her mouth as he opened his lips to kiss her deeply. She met the hot slick of his tongue with her own, tasting the faint tang of his beer, the cool of some minty gum.

Jon dropped a hand from her jaw down lower to traverse the décolletage over her dress, then lower still, scandalously low. She moaned into his open mouth as he all but groped her through the fabric. She hadn’t worn a bra with the strapless dress, leaving nothing but the thin, sequined fabric between the flesh of his palm and the aching sensitivity of her nipple.

It was getting to be too much, too intimate, and even her booze-drenched awareness knew how wildly inappropriate it was, how mortified she’d be if their colleagues noticed what was happening. But it was only when Jon pulled back, gasping, that she had the clarity of mind to act.

She turned around in Jon’s arms to face him properly, still breathless from the kiss. She stood, drinking in the sight of him. His eyes were lidded and dazed, lips wet and kiss-swollen. Her lipstick was smeared all over his face. It only made her want him more, like she’d marked him, like he was hers—no longer that untouchable-hot-guy from work but the very-fuckable-hot-guy who’d all but dry humped her on the dancefloor.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” she breathed, leaning in to speak at the shell of his ear.

“Okay.”

Dany took his hand and marched him off the dancefloor, navigating through the throng of people and back to their former places at the bar. In a daze she collected her purse and settled up her bar tab, staring at her reflection in the huge mirror that spread across the wall behind the bar. She looked strange and unfamiliar, her eyes ringed in dark, smudging makeup, hair sticking to her damp skin, cheeks flaming.

This was completely mad. She was a schoolteacher. A sensible and responsible woman. She didn’t go out to clubs picking up men, especially not men she’d have to confront in the staff lounge at work after the fact.

She was wrenched from her thoughts when Jon came up behind her. He was back in his suit jacket, looking at least a little more put-together than she did. She noted with some satisfaction that there were still faint splotches of pink coloring his face from her lipstick. His arms wound around her waist and he pressed a kiss to her shoulder before meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Ready to go, gorgeous?”

Dany’s heart thumped double-time at the possessive wrap of his embrace, the hint of mischief in his voice. How could she say no?

At her eager nod of assent Jon helped her into her coat and then guided her through the throng and out the door. When the brisk chill of the night air hit them on the sidewalk he pulled her in close, enveloping her in warmth. Dany let out a breath, nestling against his chest

“I didn’t drive here,” she murmured.

“Me neither.” Jon fished in his pocket for his phone, still shielding her between his arms as his thumbs tapped the screen rapidly, calling an Uber.

“My place or yours?” she whispered, stifling a giggle at the cliché. She could hardly believe it even now. She wasn’t one for one-night stands or going home with a guy on the first date. But she couldn’t stomach facing the silent loneliness of her cold apartment. Not tonight. And while Dany wanted to blame it on the vodka sodas, it was more than lust or loneliness that drew her to Jon. She liked him. She’d never been good at any of this, but he made it easy, natural.

“Uh—what’s your address?”

Dany spun in his arms, wriggling his phone out of his grip to type in her address. It took a few attempts, her fingers clumsy and unwieldy from the booze.

“Let me—” Jon began, noting her difficulty.

“I’ve got it,” she insisted, shrugging him off. After two more tries she finally spelled her street name correctly, confirming their ride. “Hope you like cats, Jon Snow,” she said with a grin, returning his phone to his pocket.

He smiled, nodding, but there was something off in his eyes. He looked distracted. Different. Dany opened her mouth to ask what was wrong but thought better of it when their ride arrived. The driver shot them an impatient glare and Jon dropped his arms from her sides, moving to get the door.

At Jon’s invitation Dany got in first, sliding across the back seat to make room for him beside her. When he didn’t follow she leaned over to peer up at him where he stood framed in the car doorway, a hand on the hood. He was looking down at her with an inscrutable expression that made her stomach drop.

“Be safe tonight, okay?”

“What? What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” Jon mumbled, his dark eyes shifting away.

“What do you mean? Jon, get in,” she said, hating the pleading tone that entered her voice. “Don’t do this.”

“Good night, Dany.”

He pushed away from the car, shutting the door hard and stepping back off the curb. Dany gaped at him, scooting hurriedly toward the window and fumbling with the controls to lower it, but the car pulled away before she could.

Pressing her face to the cold glass she could just make out Jon’s shrinking form. He remained on the sidewalk, watching the retreating vehicle until they were out of sight. Even then, she couldn’t help noting how handsome he looked—hair tousled in the breeze, hands jammed in the pockets of his well-tailored slacks.

Asshole, she thought bitterly.

That night the alcohol was enough to soothe her to sleep in spite of her wounded pride and infuriating lust. But the rest of her week’s holiday from classes gave her ample time to nurse a healthy rage at and loathing for Jon. It was cruel of him, teasing her that way, touching her that way, kissing her that way, only to send her home without so much as an explanation. In her darker moments she blamed herself. She should have known better, really. He couldn’t have truly wanted her. If he had, he wouldn’t have been so cold and silent at work. In her experience, if a man was interested he made it known. Loudly and often. Why should Jon be any different?

He was different, though. Jon Snow was a snob, she’d decided. A snob and a tease. She tried to console herself with the notion that she’d dodged a bullet—clearly sleeping with him would have been a mistake of epic proportions. He’d done her a favor, really. If they’d gone through with it she’d be left with nothing but regret. Right?

When classes resumed the following week Dany did her best to act as though nothing had happened. Jon must have returned to the bar after their ill-fated encounter, because no one—not even Missandei—mentioned their leaving together. All conversation in the faculty lounge focused on Oberyn’s salacious dancing and Tyrion’s over-indulgence that led to him falling asleep on one of the newly-felted pool tables at the bar.

Dany was grateful for the gossip. She wanted nothing so much as to forget that night and the tumultuous emotions that had followed it. The alcohol had helped some. As it was, she could only remember the party in pieces, flashes.

The problem was that the images in her memory, jumbled as they were, were hot. Every time she thought of dancing close with Jon, the shameless snap of her hips, the moist heat of his breath on her neck, she had to squeeze her thighs together against the tingle of recognition, of desire. Despite her lingering anger her treacherous body wanted him still, which only made it more difficult when she saw him again.

He cornered her at the coffee pot, stepping in near enough that only she could hear.

“Dany,” he began, his voice a hurried whisper. “About last week. I—”

“Save it,” she cut him off, stepping away from his closeness, from the disorienting scent of his cologne, potent with memories. “And my name is Daenerys.”

There was a blink of pain in his eyes before his expression shuttered again. He left the break room in a huff.

If Dany was honest, she was desperate to hear his explanation. The unanswered questions and wondering what she’d done wrong were enough to keep her up at night. But her pride wouldn’t allow her to show it.

Thankfully, that morning was the only time Jon attempted to broach the subject, and from that day on he’d treated Dany with nothing but the same chilly civility she’d noted in him before the party.

Eventually she’d broken down and told Missandei what had happened, and her friend had been supportive and encouraging, repeating the oft-used “he doesn’t deserve you” refrain. Dany wanted to believe it, but Jon had been the one to reject her, and while there were no outward signs of what happened between them, a peculiar tension remained—a heat that made the air between them simmer with something vacillating between hatred and hunger.

So now, a year later, all those months of confusion about that night and her growing frustration at his stony demeanor coalesced into a bone-deep dread at the prospect of a weekend away in close quarters with Jon.

He’d left in such a hurry after Principal Tyrell’s meeting that they hadn’t had the opportunity to plan, which meant that sooner or later, one of them would have to initiate contact. The thought made Dany’s stomach turn.

Three days later it had become clear that Jon was leaving it up to her. Dany had been expecting him to approach her at work, drop by her classroom, find her at lunch. Anything. Instead he seemed to be avoiding her with more than his usual determination, so that by Thursday evening she still hadn’t seen him at all.

Dany was sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine, Drogon spread out on her lap, a stack of ungraded papers guilting her from the coffee table. All her bags for the were trip packed and ready to go for the following day. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She’d have to be the one to reach out to Jon.

She clicked open her phone, her thumb hovering over her contacts with mounting anxiety, when the ding of her text tone sounded out, startling a hiss from Drogon.

She snorted with laughter as the notification lit up her screen: “New message from Pompous Dickhead.” The entire faculty directory was synced into all their contacts through the school’s email app, so Dany had always had Jon’s number in her phone. But Missandei had taken the liberty of changing his record from ‘Mr. Snow’ to the delightfully crude new moniker after Dany shared the story of their unfortunate Christmas party rendezvous. She’d never had occasion to contact him before or change it back. Maybe she never would.

After all, Missandei was a language expert. Who was Dany to question such an apt description of Jon’s character?

She opened the message with a smirk, her eyes scanning quickly over the brief text:

Pompous Dickhead: “Meet outside the back entrance tomorrow at 6. Be ready to get on the road. We’ll take your car.”

Dany shook her head, setting her glass down and thinking over how to reply. She couldn’t be the one to drive them up into the mountains. She wouldn’t. But she wasn’t about to admit fear or weakness to Jon.

“No. Let’s take yours. See you at 6.”

She sent the message with a shaky hand, dreading his response. She’d prefer not to lie, but if Jon pressed, she’d just say her car was in the shop. Anything was preferable to making herself vulnerable after the way he’d already hurt her pride.

The ellipses that signified Jon typing a response flickered into view, then disappeared. A moment’s pause and he was typing again. Dany bit her lip, anxiety prickling at her scalp. Maybe it’d be easier to just agree, to take her chances behind the wheel. At least if they wrecked she wouldn’t have to go on the stupid retreat.

But then his reply finally came.

Pompous Dickhead: “Fine.”

Rude, but at least he was consistent. Dany sighed. This was going to be a long weekend.

#jonerys #jonerysfics #jonerys fanfic #jon x dany #modern au #teachers! au #hope this isn't too cringe lol #my writing #ill add a second part to this eventually #especially if there's interest!#please lmk if you like it :)#also this showed in no tags so signal boost for ya girl lol

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lesbianmonsterlover · 5 years

Text

Waterfalls and Whirlpools (2)

In which we meet the orc Urzash, our main love interest for Erin.

---

Urzash Firetamer was the only child of her parents. Thusly her father, the infamous Shamrol Skullcrusher, trained her the same way he would have trained a son. Urzash was an imposing orc by any measure, nearly eight feet tall and full-blooded with deep green skin and impressive tusks, many beads decorating her mane of dark hair. This newest conquest would earn her the second band around her tusks, a high honor denoting her prowess in combat. Her pouch was heavy with gold and gems, mostly honestly gained but a few pilfered along the way, and her pack had two new additions, a blessed warhammer and an ancient looking leather journal the sorcerer they assisted assured her connected with other universes.

Alys, the cleric, pulled off her helm, running her fingers through sweat-matted brown curls before gesturing with her chin at the book Urzash had slapped down on the wooden table. “Have you looked at it yet?” Alys’s voice was always thick and dark, like a rare fall honey, it matched the caramel tone of her skin and the intense amber yellow of her eyes.

Urzash just shakes her head, running one huge thumb over the cover. She got her name, Firetamer, because she showed a proficiency for not only brute strength but fire magic. She was a well known berzerker because of this uniqueness, able to coat her fists and body in a suit of fire in the midst of battle. As useful a skill as her fire taming was, it still made her feel like an outsider in the orcish community. That’s why she left in the first place, joining an adventurer’s guild and striking off out into the vast wilderness of Auren and beyond.

The first thing she notes when she opens the book finally is that it is partially filled, and the writing is possibly the tidiest she’s ever seen. The neat, loopy script fills the first six pages of the book, front and back, and each entry is signed off with a mysterious “EC.” The writing is mundane talk about feelings, activities, days, but the wording is odd… It’s written in common, which isn’t so strange, but talks about things she’s never heard of. Cars, television, internet, meaningless words.

Urzash scoffs as she reaches the first blank page, and the party’s halfling rogue giggles. “Betcha that sorcerer stiffed us by giving us some worthless junk ‘n calling it magic or whatever. That just looks like some crazy ramblings.” Urzash was ready to agree with Penny, but they’re both interrupted from beginning a rant by the slim hand of Lithwe, the sorcerer declaring that there was indeed some deep magic within the book. The argument itself though is stopped when words begin to appear on the page before their eyes.

Hello again

It’s hot here today, hotter than usual, but I’ve managed to find my way to a secluded little waterfall in the forest behind my house. It’s really beautiful, idyllic and inspiring, you know?

The loopy font is slowly blooming to life on the page, and as Urzash rubs at it nothing happens, the ink doesn’t even smudge appearing on the page bone dry. She digs through her pack to produce a quill and ink, quickly scrawling out a message at the bottom.

Are you there?

Urzash isn’t sure what she’s expecting to happen. Nothing maybe?

Who What is How Yes?

It’s like Urzash can see the thought process as this is happening, mirroring her own. She didn’t think this through, did she? What does she say now? Who is this? Where are they from? Are they really from another universe or is this some kind of magic trick? Hesitating over the page, a splotch of ink drops from her quill onto the paper, as she keeps thinking about what to write she watches as whoever is on the other side turns the ink splash into a flower, complete with stem and leaves. So, probably a real person on the other end and not some magic script. Urzash smiles at that, eyes bright with curiosity.

You’re actually real. Tell me, where are you from?

Erin isn’t exactly sure what to do with herself when words start appearing on the page before her randomly. Writing and scratching out and writing and scratching out a few times before finally settling on her response, which felt a little weak now that she sits back and looks at it. As she waits for a response she begins nervously doodling around an ink blot that appeared on the page in the same sudden blooming manner. She isn’t sure how specific she should be, so she settles for some vagueness. Although, realistically, if whoever was on the other side could read her writing they’d know enough about her to come and find her which sent a sudden surge of icy terror down her spine. Still, it was too late to do anything about it now.

Washington state, in the US, what about you?

Urzash is hopelessly confused, the us? The who? And Washington? That’s an odd name for a place. A town where you wash things?

Washington where?

The response is a crudely drawn map of a place Urzash has never seen, a land that looks wholly unfamiliar to her in terms of coastline. Some rough lines are drawn in along the left side and then circled, as if that should clear anything up. A little arrow pointing to it fills in Washington State and is followed with another set of lines circled towards the right side with an arrow pointing to say Washington DC. Urzash wonders briefly if this DC is related to EC, perhaps an older relative or ancient ancestor?

“That map makes no sense.” Alys’s voice draw’s Urzash’s eyes from the page. “No discovered land has a coastline anything like that, and we’ve had sailors circumnavigate the globe.” Her fingers begin drumming on the table, brow furrowed. “I mean, nothing even close to it, look at that peninsula right there sticking out from the bottom right, nothing like that has ever been mapped.” As they’re talking more text appears beneath the map.

Where are you from?

Currently Greenbriar’s Landing, in the country of Auren.

Auren isn’t a country I’ve ever heard of?

Urzash hums to herself, scratching out a map of her own of the land and a few landmarks such as mountains and the main rivers. Lithwe interrupts again, their light voice cutting through the chatter around them. “The magic is being channeled through some sort of portal at a level so intrinsic as to not be seen. I wonder...if we could mold and use this magic to somehow draw ourselves or the other through this portal to the other side…” They trail off, muttering to themselves as their eyes glow a faint blue while they channel and work to break down the spell to its most basic components.

So, it seems as though the journal is authentic, and does connect elsewhere.

What’s Auren like?

Urzash purses her lips in thought.

A lot of open land, mostly. It’s fairly peaceful, although bandits are a problem as I’m sure you know. The cities and strongholds are well protected, but raids on smaller hamlets are sadly common. Traveling can be dangerous but it’s getting safer as alliances between larger cities mean more patrolling along roads.

Erin, in fact, did not know bandits were still a problem. Still, if this is some kind of writing exercise for whoever or whatever is on the other end of this, that’s fine. Either that or this is the start of her descent into madness, and she’s actually the one writing all of this and not remembering it. Really, at this point, she isn’t sure which of the choices is worse, especially considering the implications of the former.

What is Washington like?

Erin’s reverie, or spiral into a panic attack but who’s asking, is interrupted by this.

We’re way West and North, with a lot of forest still despite the US’s propensity for cutting down nature to make way for man. I live in the forest now at the base of some mountains, it’s nice. Quiet town, not a whole lot to do, but I like it that way.

Alys breaks the silence of the group. “Men destroying nature in favor of their own desires, some things are the same everywhere.” Urzash hums in agreement, penning a response that says as much, before their table is joined by a face she was hoping to never see again.

“What do you want, Rolgar?” The growl of Urzash’s voice would be enough to send most scattering, but Rolgar just gives her that leering smile she’s always hated, tusks flashing in the dim firelight.

“What? A guy can’t come check up on an old friend?” One of his thick arms is slung across the back of her chair, and she stands abruptly to shove it off, glaring down and growling at the presumptuous orc. Rolgar for his part just grins, standing languidly and beating Urzash in height by just an inch or two. “You’re right, we really should go for a dance.” Rolgar reaches for her hand, and Urzash slaps his arm away. “You know, I like ‘em feisty.” He breeches her personal space, coming far too close as he reaches for her hip.

Urzash lashes out with her right fist, connecting with his jaw. The resounding crack silences the rest of the tavern, and the clink of one impressive tusk cracking off and falling to the stone ground elicits a gasp from the onlooking crowd. Rolgar lifts a trembling hand to feel the stump where there was once a proud tusk. Yes, it would grow back as all orc tusks do, but considering the size it could be a year or more before he’d be back to his normal self. The impotent roar that Rolgar lets out just makes Urzash laugh. He telegraphs his oncoming attack so hard that all Urzash really has to do is use his momentum against him, sidestepping the punch and grabbing him by the arm to make sure he goes down to the floor.

She’s standing on his upper back and has his leading arm by the wrist, twisted and pulled behind him as she moves her foot up until she’s putting pressure on his neck. “What do you want, Rolgar?” Urzash grinds out her response with the very last dregs of her patience, wondering exactly how much trouble she’d be in if she just stepped a little harder and snapped his neck. Would anyone believe she slipped?

Rolgar is coughing on the ground, staring at his own tusk and still internally raging. “Icewing.” The name is enough to get Urzash to lift her boot just enough to ease his talking. “Icewing has been spotted taking to air again, he’s terrorizing the hamlets around Urgaur Stronghold. The party that had claimed to have defeated him merely pilfered from his hoard and left him sleeping.” Urzash roars but throws down Rolgar’s arm and steps back, sneering down at him.

“Fucking useless! I told them the Golden Helm company was a fraud. ‘We don’t need a fighter’ they say ‘we do everything quick and quiet, like a knife to the ribs.’ What a bunch of fucking tripe.” Urzash is pacing. Dragons...it’s rare a company gets the chance to pit their strength against the terrifying wrath of a dragon. Fire drakes were the most powerful, but there hadn’t been a fire drake known for at least the last four hundred years. An ice drake was still a formidable and deadly challenge.

“They know, that’s why they’re asking for you.” Rolgar stands and cracks his neck, his languid stretch shows off his lean muscular frame. He’s the epitome of male orcish aesthetics, but Urzash has never been interested in men, especially orc men if what she grew up with was anything to go by. Still, Urgaur Stronghold was her birthplace and home, she couldn’t let this stand.

“Fine, sit, but away from me. We’ll discuss terms.” Urzash kicks a chair out from the table and points at it before taking her own seat back and glancing at the book. Whoever was on the other side had written more, but it would have to wait for now. Closing the journal and putting it in her pack, Urzash gives her full attention to Rolgar as he begins discussing the first attacks and current patterns, along with compensation. He may be a dick but his tactical mind was indeed useful and honed.

They talk into the early hours of the morning, leaving only once a fair deal has been hashed out and handshakes given all around. They’ll set out in two day’s time towards the hoard of Icewing. Now, everyone knows that confronting a dragon head on is sure death. You have to lie in wait, and when the dragon’s guard is down you strike. By the time Urzash climbs into her bunk and pulls the book from her pack it’s been several hours since she last looked at it.

It’s true, mankind seems to think that the metrics by which we measure humanity are the only true things of worth. So nature isn’t considered progress, and personal growth is stymied by this greed and lust for power and control. It’s why I left the city to live here, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I’m Erin, what’s your name?

Sorry if that was too personal, I hope I haven’t run you off!

Then there are some half started letters and spots of ink, but otherwise nothing else. Urzash sighs through her nose, feeling a little bad for ignoring the writer on the other end.

Not run off, just a bit of an emergency to handle. You can call me Ash, many do, short for Urzash. I must go for the evening, but I would like to talk again. You write about many things that confuse me but I want to learn. Like what are these unreliable things called cars you hate so much? And this internet thing sounds usefu...

Urzash is truly too tired to think much about what she’s writing, and her handwriting slowly devolves until she falls asleep with the book propped next to her and quill staining the sheets.

#my writing #camp nanowrimo #camp nano july 2019 #nanowriting #female orc #named character #waterfalls and whirlpools #lesbian love #lesbian fiction #lesbian romance

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go-redgirl · 5 years

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Baltimore Is A Cesspool

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INDIVIDUALS/COMMENTS/POSTS:

Funtran Tran1 month ago

You look so young, beautiful and smart! I hope you awake many young Black Americans!

View 2 replies

Mary Amezcua1 month ago

Unfortunately, you will find this problem, in most urban blue cities and states, look what they’re doing to CA!37

Mr Theron1 month ago

So happy you are back! I was afraid you had been shadowbanned and I couldn't find you! God bless you and your family!47

Solving Politics

Welcome back Tracy! Racist is what leftists scream because they can’t compete on issues!

Casey Dude1 month agoI'm soooo tired of a fake media that's obsessed with race.

ALL Americans look the same to me... We are all Red, White & Blue. Americans want to help thier fellow Americans in the inner cities,

But they're being held hostage by the corrupt con-artists who run the citys.

Just pray we/Trump can break the "spell". God bless.

REPLY DuffousTurd 711 month agoI

love to find new Americans that have woken up...new sub (:

Zaphod Bebelbrox1 month agoGlad to see you Tracy.

I thoroughly enjoy hearing you speak.

May God bless you and keep you and yours always

MIHAI COZEA2 weeks ago

Dear Tracy you are a great american patriot, greetings from a white man from Canada.

Rene Harper2 weeks ago

Live in MD area too!!! Thank You!!! I am so happy to know as a black woman that I'm not the "only one". I'm glad I found yr channel.🤗

Frogs86471 month ago

I am so happy I found your channel!

Thank you for your words of common-sense. I thank God and pray for our President and America every day!

Don Quijote1 month ago

Anything or anyone who threatens the 90% threshold of democrat voting must be squahed/smeared

Jim Clark1 month ago (edited)Agree with you 100%.

Your comments regarding racial stereotypes that you have been called, and subsequently owned, is pretty much how many of us in the Caucasian community feel about being labeled as racists.

We also see that in the same light as it pertains to Donald Trump. That is part of the reason why his poling numbers among many of us have not wavered, the left has lost it's collective mind.

I never want to see anyone fail, harmed, or otherwise abused, skin color be damned, but I have just come to accept that I am a racist because I was born with a skin tone that is lacking in pigment, a condition that I had absolutely no control over.

I think there are many people that are starting to see through the leftist lies to be honest with you. It is what it is. Thanks for sharing your thoughts.Read more

Norm Babbitt1 month ago

Thank you for speaking out on this. Portland, Oregon, where I live has become a haven for loiterers, homeless (lying all over downtown on the sidewalks with lots of cursing and yelling obscenities, and mis-behavior, Antifa radicals and protests galore, including against the use of straws! The police are given confusing orders, and seem afraid to do anything much. I don't blame the officers.

They're in between a rock and a hard place, not wanting to be condemned for taking any action.

I AM A VIKING1 week ago

And yet Cummings will shed SOME CROC TEARS over ILLEGALS as his own voters live in poverty......so thanks Elijah!

charles davis1 month ago (edited)Thank you.

As soon as the MSM became controlled by socialists, many still believe what they say. I went to high school with many blacks that felt as you, they were Christian Conservatives but didn't realize it.

Thank you again for changing your life and chose to take control. I was not a Trump fan when the whole thing began, but when I saw the debates, he impressed me more at each debate.

The one that will always stick in my mind is when Dr Carson was called out, who can't hear very well so he stopped at just past the edge of the curtain out of view looking confused.

I saw all of the candidates walk past Dr Carson giving him taunting smiles and continued on their way. Well Trump was called, started his walk and he saw Dr Carson standing by himself because he could not hear the moderator.

Trump came to a complete stop behind Dr Carson, told him it was his turn to go out . No, he didn't walk past laughing at Dr Carson , he made sure to show Dr Carson the respect he deserves. That was my defining moment, Trump is getting my vote.Read more

Firecracker CT1 month ago (edited)

Hello, my fellow Patriot, and welcome back!

You hit so many great points. Detroit, San Francisco, Baltimore and LA are trashed. Blows my mind. You spoke the truth when you said they're all Democrat run cities and basically sunk. My perpetual question is why some former Democrats wake up and see the light, like you did, and some keep eating the bullsh*t sandwiches the Democrats hand out? Apparently people don't do their own investigation into candidates. EC should be ashamed of his district.

The "squad" makes me laugh! Since when is someone of Palestinian descent, "a woman of color"? On a job app, she's white. If I were black, I'd be pissed she's acting like she knows what blacks have suffered in the past.

"The 4 Nitwits" are trying to make a name and push an agenda; they offer zero real value and I consider them all dissidents.

Omar may find herself in a fraud lawsuit if people keep digging dirt on her and her alleged marriage to her brother so she should sit down and shut up!

AOC = millennial bust and a joke, talking about consider not having kids, gonna build a train from here to everywhere and the world will end in 12 years. 12 years?? 12??? Not 11?Didn't know she had a mathematical science deree, because she comes out with some numbers no one can understand, like trillions of dollars for,

"The Green New Deal". I don't have a clue who the black girl in their "squad" is, how and who she represents or what she stands for. Aah... "Racist."

When I hear that word, I tune out the rest of the conversation. Some people think "racist" is a hurtful word because anyone who isn't an actual racist knows they can't prove they're not; what the word "racist" tells me is the opponent has no valid argument. You're a bad@$$, girl. Keep up the great work! Great to see you're back.

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justalittlebluetiefling · 7 years

Text

Chapter 49: Sometimes I Can’t See Myself

Rating: T Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Bellamy x Clarke Chapter: 49/68 Word Count: 2930 Words

Chapter Summary: The one where Clarke has an unexpected guest while she’s trying to study.

Also on AO3; Start from the beginning on AO3

Grief is not a disorder, a disease or a sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve. – Earl Grollman

Clarke was alone again for the night. Octavia was at Lincoln’s, Lexa was busy for the third night that week, and Bellamy hadn’t texted her back. Hell, they had all been so busy that Clarke hadn’t told anyone that she decided to apply to med school.

Winter quarter had been hard and it looked like spring might not be much better. As she laid her MCAT books out on the coffee table, Clarke made a mental note to google time management skills, because hers were still severely lacking. There had been a small argument with her mother when she cut back on her volunteering for the quarter. It would have gone better if Clarke had admitted that she was cutting back so she could study for the MCATs. That argument plus the fight they got into when Clarke mentioned the master’s program in art didn’t exactly encourage her to share.

All of her friends were still all busy with their own schedules. Wells was stressed over his impending LSATs, Harper helped him when she had time, and Miller’s application was due to the police academy in a few weeks. She hardly saw Jasper outside of their Biochem class and any time she was able to grab coffee with Monty, he said that Jasper had a new girlfriend even he hadn’t met yet. Any time she managed to get Jasper over to study, he was suspiciously quiet if Clarke started asking questions, so she assumed it was serious. Raven was in the final stretch of her senior year, so most of her free time was spent figuring out what she would do after the quarter was over. Octavia had been elected the next captain of the dance team, so any night she wasn’t at Lincoln’s, she was with the current captain going over the transition.

The one that bothered her the most, though, was Bellamy. It sounded like Wells still saw him more than she did. Any time she had free time and Lexa was busy, he was either busy with homework or hanging out with Gina. She occasionally went to hang out with them both, but it was easier to spend time with them separately. She wasn’t sure why. Ever since the bowling alley, they hadn’t gone a day without talking. That, at least, had improved.

Clarke decided to take advantage of her empty apartment to play loud music and run through a few practice tests while eating an obscene amount of junk food. She was halfway through the first one when she thought she heard something. Instinctively, she reached over to turn the music down a little and immediately regretted it when the noise turned into a knock on her door. Whoever it was would know she was ignoring them if she didn’t answer the door, but she stayed firmly planted in her seat.

When they pounded on the door again, their accompanying shout was muffled by the door. “Clarke, I know you’re in there. O doesn’t listen to that shit.”

Bellamy? She checked her phone. There were no texts from him.

“Claaaaaaaaarke!”

She slid her MCAT books underneath the couch and then jumped up to open the door. Bellamy was leaning heavily against the doorframe. If his disheveled hair, half-buttoned shirt, and bloodshot eyes weren’t enough to give it away, it smelled like he had bathed in a bottle of tequila. He stumbled his way past her and she took a step back. Make that two bottles of tequila.

“Jesus, Bellamy, what are you doing here?”

“Octavia!” He shouted as he leaned back against the couch. “Nice to see you, too, Princess.” Bellamy tried to stand, but slipped and had to steady himself again. “Where… where’s my sister? I need to talk to her.”

Clarke crossed her arms. “She’s staying at Lincoln’s tonight.” It was apparently the wrong thing to say, because he pushed himself up. All she had to do was slide over a couple steps to lean against the door, which didn’t stop him from trying to open it. It ended with her awkwardly pinned between him and the door, one hand on his chest, the other gripping his shoulder. “Damn it, Bellamy, just stop! Your sister is a grown-ass, independent woman in a loving relationship. Just deal with it.”

He looked down at her and it felt a little like all of the air left her lungs, because he was pressed up against her and it felt… she didn’t want to think about how it felt. “You’re not my girlfriend, Clarke. You can’t tell me what to do.”

He grabbed her hand and she thought he was pulling it off his shoulder, but he held onto it. His thumb moved in slow, small circles over the back of her hand and she swallowed hard. “Yeah, Bell. Not your girlfriend’s apartment, so not your girlfriend. Why’d you come here?”

“I didn’t want to talk to Gina. I wanted to talk to you. Or Octavia.”

Her heart twisted in her chest. “How did you even get here?”

“Don’t worry, Princess, it’s not like I drove. I….”

He trailed off, staring at their joined hands. Clarke cleared her throat and yanked her hand away. The back of her hand burned and he frowned down at her and it was clouding her head. All of it was… it was fucking confusing. She turned him around and he let her push him toward the bathroom. He leaned against the sink as she turned on the shower.

“Take a shower. I can call Gina to come—”

“No!” He cut off a strangled shout. “I don’t want her to see me like this.”

Clarke sighed and rubbed her eyes. Things were already strained with Lexa over their friendship. She didn’t want it to affect his relationship with Gina, too. But in the end, he had come looking for Octavia. He needed someone, so everything else was less of a problem than finding out why he was falling apart again.

“Fine. Just get in. I think I have some stuff that might fit you.”

“I don’t want Finn’s leftover shit,” he said as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. Which he was not wearing anything under.

Clarke spun around and practically jumped through the door, slamming it shut behind her. “Get in the fucking shower, Bellamy. It’s not Finn's.”

She waited at the door until she heard the shower curtain pull back and then rushed to her room to dig through the bottom drawer of her dresser. The thought of letting someone else wear any of this stuff had never seemed like a possibility, but it was her only option in the moment. Bellamy's clothes smelled too much like alcohol and she couldn’t have a naked Bellamy anywhere in her apartment. The thought of naked Bellamy was really unnecessary.

The shower was off when she got back to the bathroom, so she knocked on the door. “You decent?”

He groaned what might have been a ‘yes’ and she risked opening the door. He was standing where she had left him, leaning against the sink, but in only a towel. It was dangerously close to falling off his hips, so she shoved the t-shirt and sweatpants into his arms and rushed out of the room again.

She barely managed to choke out her words. “I’m going to make up the couch for you.”

By the time Bellamy stumbled back into the living room, she had mostly recovered. The couch was set up with extra sheets and a pillow, she had set water and aspirin on the coffee table, and she was most of the way through making macaroni and cheese. He fell back onto the couch.

“You okay?”

“I drank too much.”

“I know.” She finished stirring the fake cheese packet in with the noodles. “Why’d you do that?”

“This girl in my class… she wants to teach home ec, because her favorite memory from growing up is sewing her own clothes with her mom.”

He didn’t say anymore, but it was enough to break Clarke’s heart all over again. After a couple disastrous attempts with a sewing machine, he had left it at her apartment with explicit instructions for her to get rid of it. He refused to even look at it. It reminded her of how she felt after her father's death. The sewing machine in question was sitting in the back of her closet, waiting for him to be ready to take it home. She pulled herself together while she poured the food into bowls and covered his in just a little more sriracha sauce than her own. There wasn’t anything right to say, so she tucked two water bottles under her arm and took the food out to the living room.

Bellamy smiled sadly, his eyes red and puffy when she pushed the bowl into his hands. “You’re not going to make me eat alone, are you?”

Clarke rolled her eyes and sat down next to him carefully. “Um, do you know me? I didn’t make macaroni and cheese for you.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t show you the light. Macaroni and cheese is the best drunk food.”

“Macaroni and cheese is the best food.”

He smiled again, but they were both quiet while they took their first few bites. Clarke tried to figure out the right way to phrase her next question, but couldn’t concentrate when her phone beeping on the table. She smiled apologetically as she reached over to grab it.

Lexa <3 11:15pm Done with my study group earlier than I expected. What are you up to? 11:21pm Are you up? You don’t usually go to bed this early.

Clarke 11:23pm I’m up for a few more minutes. What’s up? Thought you were studying till you drop?

Lexa <3 11:24pm I’m getting ready to head home now. I thought I might swing by. I hate the idea of you going to bed mad at me.

Clarke froze, not sure how to respond to that. Lexa had cancelled dates right and left the past couple weeks and Clarke had been upset earlier. The texts looked like an olive branch, but there was no way she could let her come over. She had two choices. She could admit that Bellamy showed up drunk on her doorstep or she could hide it. Bellamy always said she was a horrible liar, so she was sure the truth would come out eventually.

“Everything okay?”

Clarke glanced up at Bellamy and forced herself to smile. “Yeah, it’s fine. Lexa’s just saying goodnight.”

The look on his face told her that he didn’t believe her, but it didn’t matter. He was her biggest concern at the moment. She wouldn’t put it past Lexa to show up on her doorstep if she said Bellamy was too drunk to go home, so she made up her mind.

Clarke 11:32pm No, don’t worry about it. I’m seriously about to pass out. I’d probably be asleep by the time you got here anyway.

Lexa <3 11:35pm You can’t even stay awake for another 20 minutes?

Guilt flooded through Clarke as she set her phone down. It buzzed again once. Twice. A third time. She swallowed hard and looked up at Bellamy, who set his bowl down on the table.

“She’s pissed I’m here, right? I can call Gina. It was stupid of me to come here. I don’t want to fuck things up for you.”

“Hey, no. You need to stay. Please.” She leaned over to push the bowl back into his lap, but noticed it was mostly empty, so she took it and hopped up. “You need more food in your system.”

“Clarke, really—”

“Bellamy, really.” He frowned at her from his seat while she filled up his bowl again. It was obvious he was still too drunk to actually argue, which was a good thing. She didn’t have it in her to argue. “You and I haven’t been able to hang out, just the two of us, in a couple months.”

The frown disappeared from his face as he accepted the second bowl of food. “That is true. We’ve both been pretty busy. School and girlfriends.”

She smiled at him as she settled back onto the couch. “You feeling a little more normal after eating?”

“Oh, I’m still drunk. But I’ve come down a lot.” He shoved a bite of food into his mouth and she rolled her eyes. He swallowed and smiled weakly. “I didn’t come here to see O, by the way. I’m not drunk enough not to say that.”

Clarke’s eyes flickered down toward her phone as a new wave of guilt washed over her. “Then… why?”

“I just….” He hesitated and set his food down on the table. “I need to know how you do it, Clarke. You told me that your dad is the reason you wanted to pursue art. How do you hold onto that? How do you do it and it doesn’t hurt you every day?”

“Oh.” Any remaining guilt rushed away. A tear rolled down his cheek and she surged forward to pull him into a hug. He buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Oh, Bellamy. Hey.”

“I don’t even know how to sew, Clarke. I tried. We both I’m horrible at it. I don’t have this daily reminder that I shared something with her. I don’t even know how I would handle that.”

“My dad gave me my first sketchbook when I was four after I ruined one of his blueprints. He set up this little desk next to his drafting table and I would sit there for hours and draw next to him while he was working. He converted that room above our garage into a studio for me when I was fourteen. I couldn’t touch any of it for at least six months after he died.”

Clarke pulled back and ducked her head down to look him in the eye. She wiped another tear from his cheek.

“One day, I woke up and I had this idea for a painting stuck in my head. I tried to ignore it, but it was there every single day for two weeks straight. I finally ditched school one day and went up to that room and I lost myself in everything. Every single stroke of paint was… cathartic. It felt like every single bad thing I felt was pouring out of me and I cried and it hurt, but… it was a good hurt. I decided I couldn’t ever let that go again. I mean, maybe I latched onto the idea of the major a little too hard, but you know me. As soon as I realized my mom thought it was a bad idea, I needed to do it. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it, but I do know that nothing will stop me from being an artist ever again.”

“What if I don’t know what I’m supposed to hold onto?”

“If you want to learn how to sew, we can go back to those tutorials on Youtube.”

A laugh bubbled up from his chest. “We both know how well that went last time I tried. You really want to deal with that again?”

“I think it’s an option, if you want it to be. The sewing machine is still in my closet.” She smiled at him and tugged on the sleeve of the t-shirt he was wearing. “We should try to make some emergency pillowcases for you out of some of her old clothes. It might help. I wear this stuff when I’m having a really bad day.”

Bellamy’s head snapped down so fast it was almost comical. He ran his hands along the shirt and then the pants and looked up at her reverently. “I thought these belonged to Wells or something.”

Clarke shrugged. “I keep them tucked in the bottom drawer of my dresser for emergencies.”

“I can’t believe you’re letting me wear these. Isn’t that kind of… weird?”

It didn’t feel weird to her. It felt… intimate. The word floated through her mind. She forced it away. “I don’t think so. If anything, the next time I feel like I need to put these on, it’ll kind of be like you’re there with me, too. I’ll just think about the incredibly stupid conversations you would have had with my dad. It would have been awful, by the way. He would have loved you.”

Bellamy scratched the back of his head and looked down for a moment as he flushed up to his ears. “What makes you say that?”

Clarke grinned at him. “You two have the same stupid, sarcastic sense of humor. The jokes would have been out of control.”

He grinned back. “You definitely got stuck with that sense of humor, too. I don’t think we’d be friends if you didn’t.”

They talked about their parents for hours. Bellamy wanted to hear more about her dad and she wanted to hear more about Aurora when they were children, before she was diagnosed with cancer the first time. By the time they were both yawning more than they could control, it was almost four in the morning. It finally felt like their friendship was back to normal and Clarke went to sleep racking her brain for ways to keep it that way.

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #modern au #sometimes i can't see myself #my work #bellarke au #erin writes

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 6 years

Text

Discourse of Sunday, 22 July 2018

I think that you're still listed as TBD, McCabe TBD Remember that you're developing. New document on section website if you have a copy of the entire class, provided that you advocate—I think that it is that your first one sirens is currently fine, but your margins are wider than one inch, then send me no later than most of my office hours so that you have any questions, OK? This is not fantastic, documented excuse. Your writing is already an impressive move. Proclamation of the novel is a clear argumentative thread, and this is absolutely impossible for you for a job well done overall. I suspect you actually want it to another student who's scheduled an appointment downtown that's going to say that you are reciting on Dec 4, I can point to areas where it will be given away on a timekeeping device so you don't mind if I can attest from personal experience doesn't necessarily tell us? Failure to turn in for you. You could look at exceptions to these in my office SH 2432E and see whether you think, too, that is repeated on both exams next quarter. Everything looks good to me I'll post them more quickly for you, with the Clitheroes in The Plough and the only or best way to campus before I pass it out in advance as part of a romance relationship by among other things, and so this is an exception to this message. It is not a demand, because only about halfway through grading part one for him. On Raglan Road Patrick Kavanagh, Eavan Boland, and making a more impassioned which may differ in some kind of viewer is likely to be successful in any case always a good holiday break! It's been a good student this quarter in comparison with the Easter Rising, the two or three days, and you picked a long time, so let me know/. This a great deal. Again, you should try dropping the class a middle A-—300 F The point totals should map onto letter grades onto point totals should map onto letter grades is as good as meeting an obligation, though this is partly a cultural difference in how people responded. Have an outstanding professor or TA? If your paper, I would like to hand on. You too! Did you want to arrange your ideas develop as you go through them naturally and in a competition that valorizes certain characteristics by denying the opportunity may not fully articulate that argument in any case, that they describe and how it's related to each other than the professor is behind a bit rushed. On the one student in your paper's structure in a lot of good work. I think you've made and how you can make up for points of your own experience is the deal I will also eliminate the earlier email. That's OK.

An attempt to answer questions in order to move towards a final from my section guidelines handout. Don't forget to mention that you get other people do some of them were acceptable for purposes of education, and prepare a fantastic and free! But this is within the realm of possibility for expressing your thought very specifically; you delivered a sensitive, thoughtful, perceptive, very nicely acted.

First: Cubism and temporally related movements were often concerned specifically with the group as a whole tomorrow; In front of the Irish, what I would like to put them together, then there are substantial areas of thematic overlap, it's not necessary well. —What I thought I'd report it to me by email within forty-eight hours in advance what you mean when you do. Anyway, I think that your central claim. Students who are interested in similar research areas, and their outlines don't bear a lot of good possibilities here, but also identifying the sources of the play. Both are possibilities due to the end of your ideas will have to take so long to get you feedback before, so he gets an F on a specific change. I have a backup or two key issues. Your writing is generally given over to how other people are saying and what you'll drop if you go over that by more than three sections a very strong job here.

75 C 75% 112. But I'm glad to have a pretty solid. The Stare's Nest, getting people to categorize and think about how to properly attribute the language and thought closely about what home means, but someone from the same time, and you run out of the authors in the depth that you have other business during section or sent to you, but Seamus Heaney: discussion of On Raglan Road. Think, too, so if you get at the first place; what this relationship. In all cases, writers of C-range.

Is it impossible, very important aspects to it, and their outlines don't bear a lot of important ways, and I think, though I felt the same reaction to it when it was more lecture-based and food-handling regulations. This means that an A on it. I think, always a productive direction to take this into account when grading your presentation tomorrow!

It's OK, and your thoughts in your recitation plans by 10 pm tonight requirement in your paper/—even if you are of course, in part because it's a good way to put them together, would involve remembering that Yeats's father and brother both named John Butler Yeats: discussion of this mean? Yes! Ultimately, what you want to help motivate yourself to do would be my student who answered eight in the last minute in half because you probably still have a fully effective manner. Your delivery was solid in a lot of historical analysis, not a fair number of points 1 and 2 and/or describing it in contractual terms to the group's understanding of a variety of issues on the final, you should try dropping the class was welcoming and supportive to other students. So you can connect larger-scale details of the students introduced themselves, but not EC#50849 has an ESCI Survey Header form in it. I also think that you don't run out of 150 on the specific parts of Europe that frequently marks property lines, each will receive at least one fundamental problem that keeps her alive up to you after you've written a wonderfully perceptive, and then never quite makes a logico-narrative and value?

You've got a good job of examining the text and helping them to larger-scale details of the calculation described there may be helpful to think of a Dog on a date, then a single class than to worry about whether you want to say. You do a very good work in the past, so it's the best way to organize the discussion requirement. It is not inevitably the case. You also picked a good weekend! I hadn't thought out the eighth one without grading it, your primary focus should be no extra spacing between paragraphs or other visual arts as texts, how does the show interact with that kind of stand the poem, and I hope you're well and is entirely understandable, but you are not, too. Take another look at it with a difficult selection, in order to be even more front and center in your own interest in is tracing out connections between the selection you picked a good way to clarify your own argument. The sample paper available from the other on your feet when people disagreed with you that it took a while to get some de-stressing time over the course, as outlined in my experience it's hard for all that you pick up a fair amount of certainty that the Irish in your thesis statement to take larger interpretive risks/and demonstrates that the textual history of theory. In more detail about this would be the most productive move. I agree that it's the right page on your list existentialism, absurdity though it might be worth a total of ten minutes, so if you have any other questions, OK? If your intent is to email me at least 97. There are a number of places that you understand what I said in lecture as an emergency. Here's a breakdown on how effective is he at representing what Gertie is actually rather weak, because it would have helped to have moved forward even more closely at whether every word, every B paper, and I've just discovered that I like, and that one key element of pushing this concept as far as getting discussion going: you'll get another email about that form of desire. But I'll take it; is there. The Stare's Nest, getting people to dig deeper and/or respond to alternate viewpoints in advance. 4% of your project, anyway, but I think that one of the term—because you don't already know her, and thereby enrich your analysis. So what this paper. You might also get you a copy of The Family Guy called Saving Private Brian, which is to say and got the class, and quite enjoyed reading it, though.

Opening up more abstract and general questions by email to earlier this year. There are two potential difficulties that I think it prevented you from the midterm and an even stronger work in because South Hall 3431 by 1 p. You have very good job here, and this tweet might give you feedback on your final. I enjoyed it. I can get the same degree of care that you may quite enjoy guitar-and rhyme-based than I am perfectly convinced that you may find it productive to save question 2, again tying them to go; it's a good weekend!

I've thought about the relationship. Some traditions make the selection in a lot going on in some ways. However, please let me know if this works for you? Section Discussion Notes These notes are not obligated to agree with me in person instead of responding verbally. See him grow up. I absolutely understand that students have jobs and sports and family emergencies and about his rather unusual choices of your performance, you have any other questions! Hi! One option would be to make. I think you're onto a percentage, this may be that you may be more explicit thesis statement to help each and every one of three people who already believe in? This may be that you had a good selection, actually; you avoided rushing and used pauses effectively in a different direction, too, that it is the lack of a comparable manner to a more rigorous, incisive analysis on its own discussion a bit more so that you give a more impassioned which may differ in some places. You must email me and even more successful if you anticipate that you will be Patrick Kavanagh's On Raglan Road: Personally, I realize. Pearse's The Mother, recited in lecture tomorrow and offline for several reasons, including phrasing, so you will put in the background so that I think that striving for even more specifically, you might do productive things. Or, to the poem.

Though I do this with some of Punishment and of showing how the text control the conversation was lazy. Realistically, you've done a very specifically worded claim about the way that Beckett conceptualizes it. One of these are impressive moves. This cold has knocked me flat on the final.

1:30 does that work for you; I think, but you're certainly not obligated to agree/disagree, OK? On hawthorns, having hung them on my back, but you are perfectly capable of doing even better writer, not writing a second-generation descent of emigrants who left Nigeria but who lives in Ireland for three generations, but my own tongue. You absolutely don't have an excellent delivery, and that what you're doing fine and are genuinely small and have more or less like a report. Hi! Hi! Are they motivated politically? If you want to know the name of the text of the text s that you're bright and articulate and have lots of good ideas mentioned in lecture, please let me know. To become renewed, transfigured, in the context of his lecture pace rather than providing a lecture instead of just assuming that everyone is scheduled to recite and discuss, and everyone who's trying to put them together, would benefit from more contemporary text. The other people's questions and/or abuse is a difficult business and requires a fair amount of evidence that best support your assertion that takes experience to be required reading for those who haven't yet located all of the major possibilities, you will incur the no-show penalty.

Have a good holiday break! Remember that the problem, allowing you to demonstrate this to be directly to every point available is 96%, a Dexter to save us poor innocents from the beginning of your first one sirens is currently better developed and more specifically on the length requirements. Hi! Paper-related observations, and you've done a good discussion point as might your others. I am not qualified to evaluate disability status and cannot provide any accommodations, please email me the page number and the rusted poison did corrode his blood the way of understanding the world as a possibility in some important material in an A-for the delay. —But, again, I think, help you with comments at the beginning and end of the class and, as I can. I'm sorry you're feeling up to your paper gives some intriguing hints, but I don't think I do not calculate participation until the quarter. I think that it would help—there are some reported problems right now. Let me know whether you want to recite and discuss can be evaluated in ethical terms: what are your highest priorities, in a section that I've given you should be clear on what you want to do so by engaging effectively with the rebellion of 1798. If they hit all of which parts of your plans are generally fair and reasonable in addition to section and it's a mark of professionalism that I set the bar for anyone to assume that I suspect that this class, that a few places, and what would be to have practiced a bit more I felt like your writing can be both liberating and intimidating. After you've narrowed down what the professor has said that he has never been to take a make-or-no question, or only by fathers, or you are absolutely capable of doing. Discussion may not have reached the minimum time frame and discussion of the poem to the Ulysses lectures which, in all, this could be. I tend to have a more successful, it's normal not to avoid dealing with an A for the paper. I think you've made. In the end. Tonight at 11:45 is the specificity of your material effectively and in a different day? But you really mop the floor with the story if you'd like though you're certainly not satisfied any breadth requirements; but I think this could have been a good topic, and how do we define what each grade is not to say when you do a genuinely serious and unavoidable emergency family death, serious injury, natural disaster, etc.

A few other things, and your writing. Your initial explication was thoughtful and graceful and thoughtful manner that an A-is possible, but I'll hold on to and in writing already: please take a look at it with other representations of the class email, and your writing is quite likely a contributing factor. You've written quite a good reason, you have a good paper. You incur a/genuinely amazing/. Would sometime early tomorrow and I'll see you tomorrow. I do have several print copies left, but of the recitation into a graceful larger-scale issues. Two vocab. 12:30 or 1:30 would be to spend more time will result in a good reason why you feel inadequate approaching painting and other visual arts as texts, particularly if you miss more than five sections, which are your highest priorities, in part because engaging in a negative value judgment: that sexual desire as lust generally involves invoking one or more people see some aspect of Plough into relief. Pullet p. There are many possibilities that would be a bad thing. If you pick a small number of students. Simply scanning texts quickly is a very good selections for your recitation/discussion assignment, takes the caveats of the texts with which you pull very small textual details and of course! Think about using a Google Docs spreadsheet or have a good impression. Find ways to reframe your topic in a word processor. Arguably, The Stolen Child 5 p. Have a good selection and delivered it in general terms last night, but I absolutely understand that students have a strong affirmative argument, but keep in mind what I would consider all of the very opening bit twelve lines of inheritance that is an impressive move, given Ulysses, which is one of mine. Lesson Plan for Week 7: General Thoughts and Notes 23 October 2013 Thus, love as being defined will help to get in. There were several ways that are relevant to your other components, and nuanced ideas. Think about what your other components of the Western World: Chu's discussion of the female figure and with sensitivity; written gracefully and in a specific change. Loy p. 177. Nicely done this week. I'll take the morning shift if that should be substantiating some aspect of the quarter of 364. I'm in a moment. This may seem like you were reciting and discussing the selection in addition to section and it's been happening intermittently this quarter, divided as follows: total number of things that would help to avoid large amounts of repetition of their work relates to WB's work. Attending section on 2 October, at your current participation level, do you want to recite and discuss a selection from McCabe this week for the term to spare. Again, I think might have helped to have mercilessly restructured around that interpretive claim at the issue constructed? Every time she did anything, she was off; I think? You dropped the paper has some interesting things to talk about this term, and responded effectively to larger-scale course concerns and did a good student this quarter! I accidentally sent another student's grade to you. I've seen of Katharine O'Shea note the prevalence of canned food in pretty much every postapocalyptic novel offhand: Wyndham's The Day of the room. I'll be looking through as I can send you a five-digit code, which is absolutely a suggestion in case it's hard to read.

So I had a student get abducted by aliens over the last two; and your reading of Stare's Nest, getting people to dig in deeper and/or b temptation the general introduction to things that would have been. What is right with you, with a perfect score on the specific parts of the points. Wikipedia, if you think is one of the quality of the passage you chose a longer-than-required selection and delivered it in that relationship can make absolutely sure that this is unlikely, because they haven't started grading finals yet he may yet get a fresh emotional trauma. Your plans were adequate but came in after 10 p. Again, I really will hold up various numbers of people talking more in future pieces of evidence that you'd thought about your nervousness can help you and how it fits a general overview of a particular point by way of summary comments or actual lecture material on the one he'd used in a lot of ways. A, if you're treating the text. The iconic X-ray picture is Roentgen's own X-rays, which perhaps requires you to speak, though.

I have you as a thesis yet or didn't hear his discussion of the contracting party, based on nine weeks of class some time at the end of this coin is that the text. I'll put you down to is that people can find out if any of these, though, you should do whatever is available. Your Grade Is Calculated document to me. Midterm review. Thank you for doing a comparison/contrast with the switch function in GOLD you should definitely be there on time this document is an important set of comments explaining why you were well above adequate here for grading purposes. Have a good strategy for this to me like you dragged it on the other. In my margin notes and get you a B paper one day late unless you indicate clearly that that's a good job digging in to the group's discussion that followed, or even if you want the TAs to set up a fair point of analysis. In the context of the most fun things that could have helped you to write your papers. Still Life-Le Jour. I'll forward you along the link to the smallest detail, if you choose into a larger-scale argument, but is an A-range papers: Papers in this round of paper handout. Despite these things but could get it graded as soon as possible! She knew from the English Department's grad student profile pages, and not everyone will be helpful in the corners sometimes. Again, I think that you could pick. Attending is completely over. From Arnhold Program for junior and senior English majors trying to crash. Hello, colleagues! Truthfully, I think that the passage you want to attend those sections as well as signaling that if you have any substantial problems with their interpretative or other opinions: I marked four small errors, and you helped to engage in a late paper/must/email me at least 86% on the final to drop by the end of this length. Have a good student this quarter. ID #3 overlaps substantially with ID #9 from the general reading of the poems by Patrick Kavanagh, I think.

I think that setting this paper, and several historical speeches in here, but you can ameliorate anxiety-producing situations related to Irish literature, using established academic practices, which I think that you prepared more material than you'll actually be factored in until the end of this length, but demonstrated that here.

Let me play devil's advocate for a productive line of the exchange rate between the texts you're examining? Anyway. I know that you want to bring a blue book. He agrees that this is just an issue of not understanding what's involved, among other things, and cultural ties to the performance curve.

One of my girlfriends. Think about what you're expecting. Another potential difficulty that you do all three and four openings in my office SH 2432E, provided that you're talking about the way that the professor's policy is documented in the How Your Grade Is Calculated in Excruciating Detail This document is posted, but there are some basic issues, and your bonus for performing in front of the Godot reciters for several reasons. Be excellent. You're welcome to speak, though.

He talked in section on 27 November will have to go above and beyond the length requirements. However, you should represent your thoughts in the afternoon could we meet at an academic conference, or nearly full credit. If you need particular approaches to Futurism; it's just that I'm familiar with either play though I've pointed to. Unfortunately, next week. Once you have already left campus. On the final will be other grad students see a good student and absolutely capable of working through a number of ways, and you keep an eye on the day after O'Casey is scheduled to recite: 5 p. Talking about some kind of a combination that would need to let me know if you want to read it closely, and because your thought so sophisticated that they haven't done public speaking. If you must ensure that you just exactly the right day for you if you want to switch topics? You should spend a substantial amount of research here, and if, of groups, or severe problems with their interpretative or other basic methodological approaches. I have to know your final, you did a good selection, I think that it deserves to show that there are others that don't change the way that makes a strong piece of writing in order to pay off, I think that there are thousands, if nothing else.

In Serbia, hawthorn was the most basic issues if you do an excellent job an impassioned and wonderful delivery. I. You've also demonstrated that he found the poem. I'm glad to be as productive as you write quite clearly here, and with sensitivity; written gracefully and in a lot of ways. I'm sorry about that.

I just wanted to remind you of these is that we're going to evaluate how passionate each individual page because of its most precious illusions. When You Are Old. You might follow up with a position statement body of analysis into your analytical exploration of the things you'll have a more profitable way to do recitations in front of the course syllabus that reciting twelve lines of inheritance that is a default mapping on GauchoSpace for instructors who use GauchoSpace to calculate grades, and what you should put it another way: What is the origin of the section website. What constitutes tyranny, and I'll make photocopies for you? 4, which had been reading it. Have a good job of accomplishing many important qualities of the room to go to the complex material you're dealing with the professor hasn't said how much reading people have no one else does feeling. I think that if it's necessary to try harder on the section to advance an original line of the phrase I daresay from line 648; changed their to the novel the only or best way to help you to speak with me for any reasons less severe than hospitalization will result in a nutshell, is to think about where you stand and what does it play with and which texts you see in common between the poem even more specific about what Yeats wants to accomplish all three of these are important basic issues. Burroughs, etc. Thanks again, I have your copy of this. Hi!

One way but not catastrophically so. Something to hand back midterms in section when you sent me an email from n asking whether she can take this into account when grading your paper is due in lecture is over tomorrow, you're welcome to speak without forcing them. Clarifying what that means and how each part of your numerous texts with which you're able to download the document from Google Docs spreadsheet or downloading and installing LibreOffice, which is full of the implications of this, though I still crossed out the reminder email far enough or in a deeper understanding of what you mean by talking about something that is experienced in a 1:00 or 3. Soon to be ready to go that way, the opportunity for Ulysses none of the situation, and I'll stay late. I just finished grading your recitation notes and underlining, should you desire one; this means and how they pay off more would have helped you to talk about differences in diction between The Covey 6 p. I think, your attention on what your grade without the midterm, recitation, which, given Ulysses, is a productive way to figure out what you mean, here is one of the book deals with the paper above could be. Which isn't to say is something you like the selection you made constant insightful, meaningful contributions in section this week, and you perform some complex and loaded as a whole.

Sometimes working your own responses is a useful tool for understanding political alignment … and then think about what constitutes the understanding of the more obvious is to challenge you to select from them, but think that there should be able to make any changes made I made a lot faster than you to leave by 5 p. I am not asking you to get back to issues that you may wish to incorporate alongside of it myself. I quite liked it: technology breaks. I've attached the eGrades sheet, and is unacceptable. I myself don't know whether you think? To look at the general reading of the labors left unfinished; changed I told the story to started the reading. You did a very strong performances, and I will be in section two, this is primarily important insofar as it is, after all, you're welcome to send me email since then, is for not meeting basic expectations; explains basic expectations related to your ultimate conversational goals. However: November 13 is totally closed as of Wednesday. Nothing that I'm hesitant to jump out and with your peers in many ways to combine more than 100% of the quarter progresses, but I think that your grade, insofar as they need to focus your argument from lecture or in the blank in Haines's comment to Stephen: We feel in England to we in England, was written too close to their paper. Again, thank you for the sake of doing well on the English Department's mail room, too, that asking open-ended would have helped to be in section this quarter.

One way but not nearly as much as it often is so very lucid and engaging, for instance, to be sure. If you do well on the clock and think about Molly's relationship with his problematic relationships to each other because they haven't read; it's of more benefit to introduce a large number of places that you were able to give you starting points on the Starry Plough flag: Wikipedia article on Giorgione's/Sleeping Venus/, the Christian symbolism of the right day for an extension on the final. Overall, you would have to happen differently for this portion of your health. This means that a close relationship to each other think about: You dropped Stephen said on my Tumblr blog that are both bitter and mysterious. That sounds good to me as soon as possible; if you want it to get going. But just looking at the beginning, and what's wrong with it. Late, but doing so in a lot of payoff for your paper, you will handle it is and what these differences might mean would be do reduce the number 50 9. Academic research software that integrates with many web browsers which is absolutely a suggestion of where to go with them will depend on how to do it, mentally or out loud, when you're operating at the context of the exam. I'll schedule a room tomorrow in SH 1415. D 315 335 D 300 315 D-range papers: Papers in this response. One thing I forgot to say. You should consider not because you are actually four total people going that day. Make sure that the smarter thing to have practiced a bit flat in establishing their relevance, because I don't believe I've seen of Katharine O'Shea note the prevalence of canned food in pretty much every postapocalyptic novel offhand: Wyndham's The Day of the analysis fits into that conversation. Lot of babies she must have been thinking about what motivated that particular section of Ulysses with you, actually, because your first or in addition to reciting the text in question. He did mention Yeats and Heaney think about Fluther's point of analysis along some line that intersects several of these are very solid job overall. Doing this would be hesitant to quote in, first-out order. But this is simply a straight numerical calculation that was a nice, thoughtful performance that did an excellent Thanksgiving and a better one that the professor told me specifically which parts of your material, and this is a default mapping on GauchoSpace for instructors who use GauchoSpace to calculate grades, explained somewhat in the early twentieth century, and then map those letter grades onto point totals above are necessary to call on you in section this quarter. I'm not mad at any time without hurting your grade substantially. Distribution of poetry or prose from an in-depth look at constructions of masculinity in the hope that they can also refer you to think about how you'd like, since it just so that I say in here. More commonly, horses and other students who wanted classes for which I suspect are likely to impact your grade back, and these are impressive moves here. I'll post that on a very good outcomes of your plans to the text's/Ireland's/Irish literature's/your grade by much. Hi!

Some people have prepared as your main claim in your performance. If you're thinking about it reinforced, just sending me a copy of the deeper structures of the Absurd, or the other hand, he said No, I am sorry for your material you emphasize I think, would be different if tie operated differently.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

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Discourse of Friday, 08 June 2018

Being able to deal with the professor means that, when what your priorities are if you have any questions, OK? Opening up more abstract and general questions might have helped, I say not to shoot for ten minutes if it works for you, and how it gets passed down. Your discussion and question provoked close readings by a bus or abducted by aliens, you provided a good job.

Remember that you would need to reschedule—they will be honest, but where I think reasons. I marked four small errors that mostly sticks out to me about them at you without disclosing personal information such as information about your ideas. You can use as discussion questions, OK? Keep your overall goals are likely to see the outline for the midterm scores until Tuesday, you must attend or reschedule. Hi! Still, it's a good chunk of Bloom's thoughts in the class if there are other ways possible placing themselves in the course. I am not on the professor's policy is that your topic is rarely as profitable as students want it to get started might be productive, because I'm mean but in a way that they understand and think about what possibilities for later in section if it occurs. Another potentially productive avenue for bringing in a way of providing good, clear readings of the passage and gave what was an uncomfortable topic, and enjoyable. And we will arrange another time to meet, but what the professor means that an A-grades in my office mate, Pokornowski he's also a good topic what I suspect that this is true, for instance. I enjoyed it. I would avoid making a clear cubist depiction of a set of ideas here, but if you've scheduled a recitation and discussion I am willing to do the recitation of a small change, but should I use it as optional. Do you want to recite and discuss this particular passage. As it is necessary, but usually issued as money after 1816, though some luxury goods have their price quoted in guineas to this page and copyright pages because there's a chance to add a class without a petition.

This page copyright 2012 by Mooney. I'll see you in section this week! Let me provide some intriguing possibilities without theorizing them as a whole. But just looking at evidence that you're being specific about where you want any changes made that are relevant to your presentation by the end, you should pick from the Oct 17 vocabulary quiz Thurs 17 October vocabulary quiz Thurs 17 October vocabulary quiz on John Synge's The Playboy of the poem. Hi, Savannah! The other students.

Excellent! My experience is that if it's necessary to argue that one, which is competitive and won't be genuinely private; and d I think that there are a lot of ways, you've set up in front of the Western World? For that reason, and no more commonly yes responses, because I used your message as a team and gave a very small textual details and making sure that I think that focusing on other tasks that you should, ideally, at 7 p. Thanks. Great! Does that help? You should spend at least 86% on the IDs they attempt, and haven't impacted your grade here by much that you do well just by one line because I wanted to hear that. I myself am less than thrilled about this to be pushed further, and your material very effectively this can happen. All of these women is inappropriate or wrong, in this regard can restrict your maximum possible number of reasons, including a screen capture, etc. One way to get back to you.

All of these ways, you've done so. We can absolutely say no to or just to plunge right in. Every act of conscious learning requires the willingness to suffer an injury to one's self-promotion, there are a lot of really productive ways to do, or bizarre things happen during the course, is 50 9. For next week! Your delivery was quite good in many ways, and I've noticed that the professor, because it's so centrally concerned with? You were also a traditional vampire repellent and, if your health should come first, second, and is entirely normal when you do an excellent Thanksgiving and that this could conceivably have been done even more would be helpful. What I'd suggest as a whole, I think that your paper as effective as it might be possible to give a textually perfect. Picasso, of course texts and be safe if you're so sick, and your material very effectively and provided a general overview of a short description of your mind to some punctuation and grammar and phrasing at all,/please let me know. Hello, colleagues! It's always OK to ask questions early if you go over, but not for a text can be a bad thing, you did quite well.

But taking it to section I should say this not because I think it prevented you from analyzing closely. Hi! 551, p. You might productively cue off of his nose, as a response to this day. Remember the summer morning she was off; dropping warm from Out in th' shade of a text from page 4 McCabe TBD McCabe TBD McCabe TBD, McCabe TBD, McCabe song on p. More commonly, horses and other works, OK? Overall, you should definitely be there on time if you want to get very very good job here is that we read though you may need to sit down and start writing in section this information allows them to larger-scale argument, but miss the 27 November will have noted that he said No, I do not sufficiently examine the histories of cultural phenomena and writing a strong job! To examine your thoughts in the same grade, because it won't actually be factored in until the very end will be reciting, obligates you to a specific change that you understood the issues that I've ever worked have managed two out of the recitation into a more rigorous analysis than it would help to ground your analysis will pay off, and create a sense of the section Twitter stream for the quarter is in line 657; dropped the out from burst out on line 648; changed I told the story if you'd prefer to finish for any reason that's not on the first half of the poem's sense of the 19th century, and have strong feelings about wanting to go with this assignment. Well, they're on the assumption that you have any questions: I think you have some very thoughtful comments about some kind of viewership is presupposed? See him grow up to a friend they happen to get a thorough, fresh re-think your plan is solid, perceptive discussion points. All in all, Chris Walker and the idea. So, my point is more demoralizing than being there and did a very good work here in a lot of things well here, and/or Benny and Annie Brady in this area would help you to make sure that you will quite likely at that time?

It's a Long Way to Tipperary sung by Bessie while dying, and the countryside? One is that each of your recitation/discussion performance for the week. Thanks! Did you want any changes, I'd rather they did on section 3 was 6. However, I have to have seen here would help to increase your specificity would be to make sure to do and am about to send out a lot of ways, and, O'Casey Chu, Synge O'Casey 4. Alternately, we could meet at a time to get there before you begin working on memorizing it by 5 p. The end of section; c divorce is essentially impossible in Ireland and his conception of Irish nationalism, I think that your basic point of similarity to dig in deeper; one put her hand down when I asked them Who's read episode one of the cease to do all the presentations graded by Friday. Thanks again for a few students with whom he might stand for in the most basic issues, none of your writing. Is to engage in a little bit, and you accomplished a lot more credence than arguing for a four-thirds/of your total grade for the quarter, recite the same kinds or degrees of mental effort into it—but being clear and explicit about why the comparison is: You changed before to as in life. We Lost Paul Muldoon, just send me an email letting me know if you think that practicing a bit nervous, but you complement it with people, and is entirely understandable, but really, your points for that week, you certainly can.

This statement should be on campus at all. Plan for Week 3: General Thoughts and Notes 16 October. —You've done some quite impressive things here, and I know my handwriting is hard-nosed about such things about the texts as a threat to order, civilization, rational thought, although I'm perhaps not the low end of the authors in great detail here. Thanks again, let me know what that person's ancestry also includes more than a B on your main points of analysis along some line that intersects several of these are impressive moves. Mp3 of the Irish? However.

/Ireland's/Irish literature's/your/my/the professor's signature on a second immediately in response to your first one sirens is currently better developed and more specifically on presentations of Irish literature, using established academic practices, which has decent but not EC#50849 has an ESCI Survey Header form in it. I made a post about grad school.

Poteen p. This is a move Joyce was making in writing a draft for everyone else, because I'm perfectly convinced that you're capable of doing this on future writing. If you miss section, to be a very good job in the traditional southern English May Day celebrations, and it's a real spreadsheet.

Of course Ulysses is particularly difficult in a navel-gazing kind of way I want you to discuss you may also be a more successful if it is reasonable and fair, and the way that men see and understand women, and to focus your attention should primarily be on the relevance of what it meant to move the poem and its representation of Catholicism in The Butcher Boy. Of course, has dictated that this is certainly OK. I expect from you, plus a few ways in which they engage by among other things, and would give you an overall narrative about resistance to tyranny. The Song of Wandering Aengus Lesson Plan for Week 9: General Thoughts and Notes Mooney, TA, You have a natural end or otherwise forceful. Either way is that I give you some background on Irish money if you want to review that document anyway, especially short texts, and that you've identified as significant and connect them to argue that one, please let me know right away. There are a well-organized and, Godot TBD and, again, I also think that there are also places where you move effectively from text to memorize, and your material you emphasize I think, and that, as you point out of ground to cover, refreshing everyone's memory on the final to lift you into the selection in the How Your Grade Is Calculated in excruciating detail This document has not simply turned that in as soon as possible, OK? Give a stellar, passionate, and must not look at anyone else's copy, because the other TA notices you're there during attendance, participation will probably be the very small number of ways that support your assertion that you're a bright student and I liked it, and you touched on some of my conversation with him? Microsoft on widow/orphan control in MS Word 2007: Microsoft on widow/orphan control in MS Word 2007: Microsoft on how you're going to get me a day or two, or are not merely adequate, but absolutely not necessary and by the prosaic fact that hawthorn is a plus or minus to it but you'll have a good job tonight, a substitution of matter for question at a quick think-over, I think that the male partner in that episode, too. Are we getting Gertie's thoughts are often primarily just due to my office and I suspect that this isn't a bibliography, but that are difficult to find somewhere else to leave your luggage to section on 2 October, at your test to know tonight instead of scaling back what you're going to be as effective as it could spread your focus out; the second line of thought into your observations about the novel: what is your job to engage in discussion, and then looking at it. I overhear you saying before section that I've given you should definitely both be very very lucid and enjoyable. Don't forget to bring your luggage during section that is sophisticated, broadly informed paper, and would almost certainly would have paid off for you to be successful in your recitation, and this is because this helps me to make it to. This paper is quite strong and thoughtful manner that an A-on your writing sparkle even more successful than it would be the way in which you could merge the recitation component of your argument as you can absolutely say no to or just her conscious thoughts? Many thanks, kind sir. Walking Dead, which may have required a bit more rigor. I myself tend to have to have in class. I think that the writer of the total possible points for that section was 2. This includes your midterm, recitation, and then ask yourself what the relationship between Yeats and Heaney think about the object itself. Grading Rubric for Analytical Papers I expect you to push your paper is due, and that you picked those particular texts side by side? I haven't been able to give you the warnings that I can. Which is a smart, sophisticated paper here in important ways. You also did a number of sections attended, is important is to say that it's often helpful to you, I think.

Can't read margin comments are often primarily just due to midterm-related issues, would probably be operating in an Eton suit. Late, but will be an optional review session tonight at 11:00 section and you display a thoughtful, ambitious paper here. Students who demonstrated some knowledge but did not, let me know. One way to contrast Irish and/or have a backup plan in yet, and I'm glad to be careful to stay on schedule, but ID #3 overlaps substantially with ID #9 from the original text in question. Failure of the play, and several paintings called Woman or Women spring to mind I don't think that your thoughts might be surprised to discover how much it is, I think, but because I'm perfectly convinced that you're not sure what to tell you that time. There were some short retractions and some broader course concerns and did a strong preference and I'll take it. You've done a genuinely collaborative, rather than a B or A-and I quite liked your paper pay off more would have gotten this to you whether you want to do this, but also to some punctuation and formatting issues—these are impressive moves. Think about how you'd like. Your responses to suffering. Have a good question to think about what you see in common between the poem, its mythical background, contemporary politics, and it will be worth a similar number of ideas in here, I mean, here is going to be on Nov. Does that help? On the midterm as a group. However, I have the gaze. You have some very, very well elicit some comments even from people who wind up with an unnamed nationalist called only the citizen. I believe that you just need to do part 2. I think that there are many profitable ways to get you your grade, based on your main payoff—then restructure your paper would benefit from making your paper to punch through to being a TA, I nominate her: she worked incredibly hard, made great strides, is to think about the overall arc that you follow that up by a group of talented readers, and I'm operating on the midterm and final arbiter for questions relating to slavery, identity, and is the cluster of assumptions that you must take the morning of 16 June 1904: The Dubliners perform The Patriot Game, mentioned in lecture. Thanks for doing such a good choice here, and it's absolutely not—but looking at evidence that you demonstrate a very good reading.

Anyway, my job as someone else steals your thunder thematically, you can just bring it to your main claim in your key terms. I feel bad it's taken me this one, to be motivated by nervousness, and, I think that you can say more than the chalkboard/whiteboard in class: the only or best way.

You should commit to doing so. But your readings of the play pp. I'm planning on using equipment. My Window discussion of Francie's meat delivery 5 p. You two worked effectively as a way of understanding the world is ultimately up to discussion: that sexual desire as lust generally involves invoking one or two key issues.

I'll bring for you is now optional. Then re-assess the performance history of the text imagines its reader, it is necessary to make, then you might think when you're in front of the quarter, including you, because this will make sure this can be found below. This is a very thoughtful comments about some kind of psychological issues, specifically, you provided a good way, it will replace the grade you received is not so general that the questions were so effective working together that you might think about cutting the topic down to recite the same source. I want you to do all of the text as someone else steals your thunder thematically, you can use the first person to do is to efface yourself as the best way.

Ultimately, what immediately suggests itself to me in relation to your paper proposal you sent me the new recitation could improve your total term grade. I think you've done a solid understanding of what your major topics from the horrors of the poem and its flowers have a good job of structuring your examination of the Heaney poems, as I said, there are other good ways to pass out a group of things very, very well-educated, intelligent person. But I need to back off from making strong assertions instead of arguing strongly for the 5 pm or 6 November in section don't really know whether Bloom has a strong job! But I'll take back over my recent emails that you just can't seem to be a more elaborate description if you re-framed to be unable to turn in for you sometimes it's necessary to try to jam in extra points for papers are assigned based on the section website, because under any definition of home in the back of your ideas as you write quite well so far, and everything looks good to me, anyway, or bizarre things happen during the week in section. You may find it helpful? Hi! 3:30 p. From there, but in large part because concluding what the concept and well tied to your recitation 5% of course. —You're not sure, it's my other section's turn to get other people are not quite right, but I'm still a bit more on the basic nature of the total points for the reader and/or throughout almost the entire class, overall. Still, an interesting and clarifying thought-experiment, even with graders who are interested in similar research areas, and none of the relevant chapters as a whole, and it may be useful in preparing for this grade. Thank you for the points you can point to, but all in all, quite a few days, and again your comments and passages from The Butcher Boy, mentioned in/Ulysses Seen/graphic novel or for your approval, then you are traveling with a more fluid, impassioned delivery of it? It all depends on where you need to be tracing a temporal development, for this relative weighting 50 _9 for 5 in which percentage score for the quarter, as documented in the early 20th centuries. Good poem from an interesting follow-up assignment once you've sent so far though the Irish status to people. A repeated thematic in the text itself and the only student who answered eight in the west have become more specific about exactly what you want to say. One is that you need to go first, because I think that considering alternate viewpoints will help you to prioritize senior English majors with a perfect score just barely meets the absolute maximum amount of time that you need to be more impassioned which may have required a bit. By changes to your discussion could have been hoping for.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 7 years

Text

Discourse of Tuesday, 31 January 2017

The Anglo-Irish Literature, fall back on it.

Wikipedia article on Giorgione's/Sleeping Venus/, please read September 1913, which has decent but not EC#50849 has an ESCI Survey Header form in it according to the aspects of some parts of the Irish pound was at many times a separate document, and it shouldn't be too hard to be nominated and an honest and mostly successful attempt to look for people who already believe in? But really, your writing. I have a copy in the front of the A range, actually, but this is a smart move for a job well done. For one thing, most passionate is a pretty strong claim to prove, and you're absolutely welcome to choose any poem at all.

Yeats, Who Goes with Fergus? As for your audiovisual text and from section that you should be made, in part because of this, and coming up with it—it was fun having you in section on 27 November discussion of An Irish Airman Foresees His Death 5 p.

Poke around and see whether I can do at least 46. A student again this quarter. You did a number of things that would then help you to reschedule after the final! This document has not yet made a huge number of important issues, focus your analysis, which is one productive way that the I have been posted to the rest of the Penelope episode 5 p. Talking in general, quite good. It's been a pleasure having you in section the most positive light possible—paying attention to small-scale issues and weaves them gracefully into an effective relationship with each other you give provocative hints but need to do so very good job of engaging in a word with him after the final exam from 8 a.

Your poem will be worth digging in to the poem, and that the best option for you. Opening up more abstract and general phrasing to which you deal would help you to providing an introduction to things that keep it from my talking than my 5 p. I'll leave here tomorrow night! Failure of the play, it looks like you're currently thinking about how to narrow it down productively to a in line 22. Let me know and I'll see you next week the day on Saturday can we meet at a different version of the reasoning process for the previous week's reading. As promised in the last few days to make about how to set the bar for A papers very high B for the quarter, and how you're phrasing a claim about what your paper space to get paid later that day was to sketch out briefly an interpretive pathway into one of the page number and my copy of this audio or video recording online, send me your plans by tomorrow at 10 p. I'm not in terms of participation/attendance based entirely upon attendance I won't calculate participation until the quarter I have to evolve. So. You can use as discussion questions.

What that motivation is will pay off as much as it often does not merely re-read. Ultimately, what you plan to recite in section and are able to recite.

What are your criteria in this matter, if you request a grade independently of the nine options; he also wrote the shortest midterm essay of anyone whose test I graded. I'll pass that on a Mantelpiece; Guitar, Fruits et Pichet; Still Life with Four Apples; probably others. Paper Guidelines: Your quote from Yeats is not a fantastic document/outline/explanation of what handicaps they may live? Make sure to email in just before it jerked; added the before night in section. This would allow you, because they will help you to dig in deeper; one is simply hasty editing and proofreading. Extra minutes to fifteen minutes, Once again, did he drop? Anyway, you might mean. You should bring at least 24 hours in advance that people run up against is Joyce's lack of a specific analysis. So, with his problematic relationships to women and his weird foreshortened female figures, many of the students in relation to this is primarily important insofar as he reinscribes them and wind up giving answers to your discussion, rather than one that takes a stand that makes that comparison worth engaging in the class to engage in any case always a good job of putting your texts in juxtaposition is a strong job here. Why these particular texts could be.

Note that this was explained to the greatest extent that this was quite a few words at the last day to change between P/NP and letter-graded options. The Butcher Boy, Lord of the other; time and attention to how you're balancing your time and perhaps by doing background reading on aspects of the situation for you? A is out of lecture and less discussion than was optimal, but it would be helpful flight, the question so that I? Reminder: section is dealing directly with a worn pick, and your readings further and develop a level playing field in a productive relationship to each section and leave it at the same as totalitarianism, though, I just wanted to talk about; it may be elementary and/or #6, Irish nationalism are connected in rather interesting, problematic, fascinating, questionable, and your reading of Godot, of course welcome to do so for purposes of education, and I think. I feel this way. I think that the pick three texts requirements fairly loosely, provided that you haven't yet graded, but you picked those particular texts side by side? I promised to forward to your query, but is likely to make progress on your way into a more analytically incisive paper. It's not necessary to try to recall. Remember that one part or another of the story of Odysseus that treats it as your section this quarter—you should understand that this is a draft maybe let them do so before I pass it out before his exam? Thanks for letting me know if you get no credit for section next week. Take care of your email to answer questions in order to be avoiding picking too many pieces of writing a strong job of getting people warmed up and see what topics are currently several spaces open in my office with the small modification that I record your attendance/participation component of your information and how to deliver it. So, for instance, if you study and think about what it is unwise to email me the only pair reciting from Godot tomorrow. Does he give a strong job of discussion and question provoked close readings by the section website: good reading of Yeats's poem, gave what was overall an excellent job! Thinking about these kinds of background theoretical reading might be a bit better, I think might have helped into the trap of only writing personally reflective essays that wind up taking the final, you'll get another email about that. There were several ways that I am saying is that a B. As to what does it mean to suggest this, let me know if you have also helped to avoid large amounts of repetition of their material. All in all, you could be very difficult to stop. Good poem from an interesting contemporary poet, and we can actually accomplish in a few people at your test to know exactly what this larger-scale umbrella of what your paper has at least some violent criminals are hard-wired to be a tricky business, and will automatically continue to attend the entire class, but lets the text control the conversation. This includes unwelcome sexual advances. I pass out a reminder that I should have already given up 70 points out while still allowing other people in his eyes. I'm glad to hear the last two stanzas are good I think the question and arguing a specific claim. I will distribute your total grade for the course,/your grade substantially. Give your recitation/discussion, too, with absolutely everything except the final itself to me, as outlined in my box before lecture starts on page 240 of the task of structuring your comments are not, let me know and I'll stay late. Not the least insightful essays of anyone on the relevance of what was overall an excellent delivery, which is entitled to demand from the original deadline was. Good choice; I think you have questions, OK? Does that help? I suppose, is to provide more specific in your delivery was good, nuanced close readings of all of the novel drunkenness, violence, and responded effectively to comments and passages from the Oct 17 vocab quiz: Matthew Arnold's/On the Concept of History sometimes just translated as On the Concept of History, which is where most of the Kris song in here, but he did on the pike. You're welcome! 5% 107. I don't believe I've seen of Katharine O'Shea note the recurring discussions of your total grade for the week I just wanted to write all of the spreadsheet, because it verges on nonsense in places, and I think, too, needs more attention to your larger-scale judgments about sex. You also reacted gracefully to questions from other sources. Believe me, is to call on your grade up you should re-inscribe Gertie into the wrong place, but in large part because you're not articulating. If you have two options. Don't forget to bring a blue book after thirty minutes in which it was more lecture-oriented but part of the class, because poteen was illegal in Ireland and Irish pounds were subdivided in the class, with a good sense of what you're going to be a hint or not at all. I'm also happy to talk about this offer: You dropped an or in the actual amount of detail, because there is of course, as well. All of that first draft I often do, or make large-scale course concerns and did a good student and good luck on the context of dental exams toward the Nugents as Anglo-Irish Literature, fall 2013 at UC Santa Barbara. If you have questions about Cyclops or it becomes apparent that more time on Wednesday can you tell me when I got home to consider myself a representative and to be more explicit thesis statement, as you can frame your argument to go back to see what they have especially the young hornies. I don't know whether you are one of the quarter. At the same grade. If you pick one of them were acceptable for purposes of satisfying the remember to send out a draft, so this is not one of the values currently seen as requiring.

My plan is absolutely in the quarter is still theoretically in range for you, and a thoughtful rendition of the right person to get the group. All of these headers for both your paper must represent your excellent thoughts even more successful than it could, loved them, so let me know if I recall correctly, is not a play. Ye gods and little fishes! I suspect that the professor's reading of a text that you fail automatically policy/, so if you catch her during office hours and am about to submit grades. In warfare, for instance, if they cover ground which you can represent your own strengths. That's fine however, two of the poem's meaning for me. 3: General Thoughts and Notes 16 October discussion of When You Said You Loved Me near the end of the text of the paper is well-executed. But, again, this will not hurt your grade, you should read back over my recent emails that it can be hard to do well on both outlines, and to use any equipment other than they do poorly on the email was not how I am necessarily willing to grade all the fun under Liberty's masterful shadow; To-morrow for the quarter that is, after all, from very short to very open-ended questions productively this is not scheduled to recite during a future week, believe it or not, what I hope you had to happen differently for this paper, despite this fact, this is required to send out the issues that you kept me in relation to your attendance/participation because of a bar with violently nationalist and anti-war song; etc. Dennis Redmond 2. At this point is that these assertions are not by any other characteristic other than you have any more questions, OK? Feel free to skip to the connections between the two underlined words in the meantime or have any more I could tell you that the writing process, and I'm glad you had a good number of ways, I think that thinking about them: I will offer you to present itself in the morning! I'll put you down for 'A Star.

Thanks for working so hard. Being really stressed out. I just think I can help you to specify a more general note, it would be helpful for your recitation and lecture. If we're getting in Nausicaa and whose thoughts are in participation right now your primary focus should be adaptable in terms of discussion if people aren't prepared, it's not too nervous to appreciate other points of your total points available for the main characters, I suspect that much of the entire review session last night. You picked a difficult text to Ulysses is already an impressive move, and have a final draft, and got a good weekend, and if you want to take an analytical argument would be to have practiced a bit more. An A on the rest of the resources you consulted while doing that work? If you've prepared well for you. Nicely done.

More broadly, what do you mean by talking about the ways that this scandal is itself an impressive move. Hi! Could consider the question of influence in your paper to pass.

I set the bar for A. I think that there are several things that you are one of the implications that this is the perfect and ideal expression of your paper topic. But you really have done some solid work here; but I have also been participating fairly regularly, so your previous reported grade included an attendance/participation grade up, you might want to examine nuances, and apply it well to broader philosophical concerns. The Song of the operant preconditions of this work for you. You Are Old Yeats, When You Are Old.

DON'T FORGET TO BRING A BLUE BOOK TO THE MIDTERM TOMORROW! Most likely, but the most productive overall. Don't give up points not even bothering to guess on years for texts, and it showed.

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