#The Addams Family is all about how genuine love is deeper than what's on the surface

[softquietsteadylove]

Ok ok… here me out for a second…

Thenamesh Addams Family AU…

The Lee Family: business associates of Father's who were coming to meet with them over real estate (or some such). Mister Lee dealt in property, and also possessed quite a lot of the railways, according to Father. Missus Lee was as much of a matriarch as Mother, although they were going to talk about their poison gardens, or some other such.

Thena stared at the family standing in the foyer. They were like the picture perfect opposite of herself and her own family. They were dressed entirely in black, even the son in a smart black suit. They had mild expressions but warmer seeming eyes, all a gentle brown.

Mother and Father had perfectly sculpted smiles, but eyes as cold as the tundra. They were dressed in all white, just like Thena was, with her white-blonde hair braided over her shoulder.

"Mister and Missus Lee," Father greeted them with a falsely warm tone. Before they had arrived, he had said that they were horrid people to do business with, despite his very warm tone.

"Such a pleasure," Mother purred as she exchanged air-cheek-kisses with Missus Lee. She had said that she would rather let Theseus - the young iguana currently hiding in Thena's room - sit on her lap than align herself with 'Mister Lee's wife'.

Such walking contradictions her parents were.

"This is our son," Mister Lee smiled more genuinely, putting his hands on his son's (broad) shoulders. "Gilgamesh."

"Pleasure to meet you." He had a soft voice.

Thena stared at the young man. He was big for their age, with a young moustache coming in on his upper lip. Thena's lips twitched; it suited him, in a funny sort of way.

"Gilgamesh," Mister Lee clapped his hands on his son's back as the parents began moving into the drawing room, "greet the young lady properly."

Not that they stuck around to see that it happened.

Thena looked at the young man again, extending her hand, her palm facing the floor. Her face was still impassive, and she hadn't said a word, just like Father always taught her.

Gilgamesh looked at her with some intrigue in his eyes, bending further than he needed to as he accepted her hand in his. He bowed his head completely, nothing short of reverent as he said, "my pleasure."

Thena tilted her head as he kissed the back of her hand. It was gentle, and he even held it softly with his other hand as his lips touched her knuckle. She smiled; she could feel his moustache tickle her skin, "enchante."

"Bless you," he extended a handkerchief.

Thena laughed before quickly raising her hand between her mouth and his eyes. She was forgetting her etiquette with their guest; Mother would be furious.

"What, are you not allowed to laugh?"

Thena looked at him again, and, without his parents to loom over him, Gilgamesh seemed more relaxed. His shoulders were still wider than any she had seen, but they were slouched, his hands in his trouser pockets. She had never seen anyone look so comfortable in their own skin before.

"It's okay," he shrugged as he smiled, attempting to encourage her into doing the same, "I won't tell."

She almost - almost! - let another laugh escape her before fixing her lips into a perfect smile. It was rigid and hard to maintain, but it was the only one she knew how to do. "I thank you for your consideration."

"So, uh," Gilgamesh leaned back just for a second before walking closer to her, away from the doorway where their parents' business mutterings were happening. "We're supposed to...talk, I guess?"

"Indeed."

"Okay," he looked at her, hands still in his pockets. His eyes ran over her, and Thena briefly forgot what she had put on that day (Mother always picked her clothes for her anyway). "What do you wanna talk about?"

Thena blinked. She had read about trains and business economics and stock options all night in preparation to meet the magnate's son. And he was asking her? "Me?"

"Yeah, you," he smiled, even more naturally than before. He had a nice smile. "What do you like to do?"

What did she like to do? What was she allowed to do? Her days were filled with lessons, and then after that, she was left to her own devices. "Sometimes Mother lets me assist her in the poison garden."

"Oh yeah, Ma has the same kind of thing at home," Gilgamesh made a face that betrayed his lack of interest in the topic. "She just gets mad when I'm outside because she always thinks I'll step on it, though."

Thena felt her lips twitch, aching to leave the practised posture of the smile she had on. "Mother is similarly protective of ours. She gets furious when Theseus crawls around in the soil."

"Who's Theseus?"

Again, Thena felt caught off guard by the question, even though they were the only ones speaking. She wasn't used to being asked so many questions that weren't on a preordained subject. "Theseus is my iguana."

"You have a pet?" Gilgamesh beamed, so utterly delighted by even the idea of having an animal companion. He stepped closer to her, "can I see him?"

"I-I suppose," she uttered before she had a chance to think better of it. Was this what she was supposed to be doing? She was told to be hospitable to the Lee Family et al, so surely that included indulging Gilgamesh too...right? "Come with me."

"Allow me," he smiled, holding out his hand for her.

Thena paused just for a moment before slipping her hand into his, the way she had seen Mother do when Father held her hand as they walked the halls of their cold and sprawling estate. The way a gentleman did with a lady.

Gilgamesh held her hand so gently she felt as if she would collapse.

Thena looked down at the steps as she lead him upstairs, opting to walk to the left first. "Mother and Father have been anticipating your visit for quite some time."

"My folks too," he concurred, in much more casual phrasing. He looked around as they walked, his other hand still in his pocket. "They're all excited for it, and yet they keep saying what a drag it is."

Thena smiled as much as she was able without practising, "my parents are the same. I haven't the faintest idea why they insist on referring to things they claim are good to be so awful."

"They're funny like that, huh?" Gilgamesh looked away from the family portraits lining the upper walls to her again. "Should I have said it was quite awful to make your acquaintance?"

Thena let another tiny little laugh escape. She peeked at Gilgamesh, just to make sure he didn't mind. But he was smiling right at her. "Abysmal to meet you as well."

"See?" he grinned so freely, so uninhibited by the gilded cage around them. "Maybe that should be our code for things. If they're going to pretend shit it so great, then we can say just the opposite."

They reached the top of the staircase, where it split from its other half. Still, he didn't let go of her hand, waiting for to lead him wherever they pleased.

"Then I am having," she paused, her lips pressing together in threat of another smile, "an awful time."

His hand squeezed around hers faintly. But it was nice. "Me too."

[rachelsfav-queer]

My Mama

Wednesday Addams/Enid Sinclair

Summary: The aftermath of the night of the Blood Moon.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: Grief, Mourning, Canon Major Character Death, Angsty Hurt/Comfort

It’s a week after the events of the night of the Blood Moon and the day of Principal Larissa Weems’ funeral. Enid is returning to her dorm room she shares with Wednesday and is about to enter when she hears the muffled sound of sniffling and crying from behind the door. Strange, she thinks as she opens the door and sees the origin of the sounds to be her very own roommate. And suddenly it went from strange to slightly terrifying as Enid genuinely couldn’t think of anything that could make Wednesday Addams cry so much. She approaches Wednesday.

Enid: Wednesday, what’s wrong? Why are you… crying?

Wednesday: *hiding her face in her arms atop her knees* Go away, Enid. *weakly* … Please

Enid: I promised I’d never leave you alone again, Wends. You can talk to me. I won’t ever judge you or tell anyone your secrets, I promise.

Wednesday is silent for a long while, the only sounds coming from her are muffled cries and sniffles. But Enid is patient, not pushing her but also not allowing her to hide away behind her walls. Eventually…

Wednesday: Weems…

Enid: Oh, yeah… I’m really sad too, she helped me a lot. She was like the mom I never had, way better to me than my real mom.

At the mention of mothers, Wednesday lets out a pitiful wail, burying her face deeper into her arms as her body wracked harder with more powerful sobs. Enid panics.

Enid: Wednesday?! Oh gosh, I’m sorry! Did I say something wrong, I don’t know what I said! I’m sorry, what’s wrong?

Wednesday is once again speechless for a long time and Enid does the only thing she can think of. She hasn’t done this since that horrific night a week ago, but she somehow knows it’ll be effective. Enid scoots closer to Wednesday on the floor and wraps her arms around the mournful seer, embracing her tightly. Just as she hoped, the embrace slowly, but surely, calms Wednesday down. Soon enough, she’s calm enough to speak and Enid asks…

Enid: Wednesday. I want you to know that there’s no pressure for you to tell me anything, but I think it’ll help to talk about whatever’s going on. Talk to me, Wends. Please?

Wednesday: …

Wednesday: Weems is- was my mother.

Enid: *eyes widen* What? What are you talking about?

Wednesday: She was in a polyamorous relationship with my mother and father. They were all deeply in love and had committed their lives to each other by the ancient rituals of our family.

Wednesday: They kept it hidden because Weems’ always wanted to be the headmistress of Nevermore and knew that the school board would never take on a queer, polyamorous, Addams woman as the principal.

Wednesday: It was difficult enough for her to get the job as an unmarried woman and she already had to hide her nature as a shapeshifter to be accepted. So she hid it and changed back to her maiden name to protect herself. She hid so much about herself just to ensure that she could be the principal and protect her students. To protect me.

Enid: Wow, that’s… I don’t even know how to react to that. But… Wednesday? Why are you talking as if you’re guilty of something?

Wednesday: *suddenly screams* BECAUSE IT IS MY FAULT! IT’S MY FAULT SHE- *suddenly silences*

Wednesday doesn’t finish her sentence, the word too painful for her to speak. But Enid knew what she was trying to say and suddenly, everything fit together in her mind. She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around all of it at the moment, but she knew that wasn’t important right now. What was important was comforting Wednesday and squashing this quite frankly ridiculous idea she had that she was at fault for Weems’ death.

Enid: Wednesday… I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. That’s so… fuck. But Wednesday… it is not your fault that Principal Weems… that what happened to her, happened.

Wednesday: *crying harder* It is! It’s all my fault, Enid! If I wasn’t so utterly incapable, if I was smarter, faster, not such an utter fool to be manipulated by everyone around me, I would’ve- *breaks down into heavy, painful sobs*

Enid simply holds Wednesday tighter, shushing her gently and carefully petting her hair. She whispers gentle comforts and consolations.

Enid: No, Wednesday. None of this is your fault. It’s not your fault you were manipulated by evil, evil people and it’s not your fault that Weems- your mom chose to stand by your side to face that evil. You knew her, Wednesday. Would she have ever let you face her alone?

Enid: Your mom refused to let you get hurt and so she sacrificed herself to protect you and I know that she would’ve gladly done it a thousand times if it meant you’d be safe and alive and happy. That’s what moms do. And she wouldn’t want you to blame yourself for her choices.

Enid spoke calmly and clearly to Wednesday, in a way that Wednesday couldn’t argue with even if she had the energy to. She knew Enid was right, and it was almost more painful to not have anyone to truly blame, beyond the actual villains of the story. It meant that she had to face the death of her mother, someone she’s adored and looked up to her entire life, someone who put herself in front of her to keep her safe and ultimately costed herself her life just to protect Wednesday.

It meant that despite all the things Wednesday had convinced herself of, that she was unlovable and unwanted, were completely false. Because her mother loved her. She loved her so much that she offered her own life for Wednesday’s. With this revelation, Wednesday had nothing left inside her but grief and loss. And… the warm love that Larissa Addams had given her throughout her entire life. Wednesday spoke in barely a whisper…

Wednesday: *broken* … I miss my mama.

And Enid’s heart broke for her roommate, who was now facing a loss that was utterly unimaginable to her. A pain that she couldn’t even imagine and yet she felt it deeply simply because Wednesday felt it. It was like, for a single moment, that Larissa was her mother too and she felt the impossibly immense grief that Wednesday felt. And suddenly, she felt connected to Wednesday in a way that felt unbreakable and indescribable. Enid shook her head, whatever that was would need to wait for another day. Right now, it was just Enid and Wednesday and the stormcloud above their heads and hearts.

Enid: I know, Willa. I… I’m so sorry. I wish I had words to fix this or that I could hug your pain away. I can’t do that, but I can, and I will be here for you, through all of this. You’re not alone, Willa. I promise. I’m never ever gonna leave you. I swear it.

Wednesday: *silently sobbing, nods*

Wednesday burrows deeper into Enid’s arms, who holds her impossibly tighter. The two girls sit there for minutes, hours, days, who knows, only the goddesses. Eventually though, Enid’s phone goes off, her alarm. She grabs it quickly to silence it and stop it from disrupting the moment, but when she looks at the screen, she sees what the alarm is and takes in a steadying breath for what comes next. It’s going to be unimaginably hard, but she made a promise to be with Wednesday through this. And she’s going to keep that promise, through the Nine Circles of Hell and everything they can throw at her.

Enid: Wednesday? It’s- it’s time… for the funeral. We should go.

Wednesday: *meekly* I’m scared, Enid.

Enid takes a shuddering breath at the heartbreaking tone of the poor girl in her arms, barely able to reconcile this version of Wednesday, grieving and broken down, with the version she came to know and love and understand these past months.

Enid: I know… I’m scared too. But we’re gonna go together, okay? And I’m gonna be right by your side the whole time. Plus, our friends and your family. We’re all gonna be there and we’re gonna say goodbye to your mom, like she deserves. And once it’s done, I’m gonna bring you right back here so we can grieve alone, in peace together.

Enid: Then, we’ll see your family and we’ll grieve with them. And it’s gonna be hard and scary, but I promise that you need it. Because your mom loved you so much and you loved her and you both deserve to have you there to say goodbye.

Wednesday: You’ll stay with me? The whole time? You won’t leave?

Enid: *smiles softly* I’ll be with you, Willa. I promise.

Wednesday is silent once again for a short moment.

Wednesday: *sniffling* I do wish to be with my mother and father and my brothers. And I want you there with me. My family would love to have someone new to share their stories about my mama with. And… I think they would love you, Enid. My mama loved you… she told me… you were her favorite, she said.

Enid’s eyes widen and her mouth drops at the new information, before she starts tearing up and pulls Wednesday in for their deepest hug yet.

Enid: *muffled* Thank you, Willa. *pulls back, sniffling* And… I’d be honored to spend time with your family. I’ll be there, too. I promise.

The two girls stare into each other’s eyes for a long time, losing track of it entirely until a soft knock comes to their door and the voice of one of their friends appears from the other side, telling them that it’s time to go. Enid giggles as she looks back at Wednesday who seems to be blushing, and she realizes that she is also blushing as she wonders if she was truly about to kiss her best friend and roommate right then and there. But not the time, Enid realizes. Another day. Another day.

Enid: *slowly stands, helping Wednesday up* C’mon, let’s go. It’s time.

Wednesday is quiet for a second, considering herself. Then, she looks up at Enid nervously and opens and closes her mouth a few times, working up the courage to speak. Enid simply nods encouragingly, silently and it gives Wednesday the courage she so desperately needed.

Wednesday: Enid… will you hold my hand?

Enid’s eyes widen once again for a second before she bursts out into lighthearted giggles and easily takes Wednesday’s hand, thinking in her head about how utterly adorable the seer was to find something so simple as handholding to be just as nerve wracking as asking for a kiss or something. She also thinks about how proud she is of Wednesday, how far she’s come since they first met. Not only desiring physical contact but also actually asking for it despite how scared she was to do so. Enid knew intimacy was a scary thing for Wednesday due to her trauma, and so she didn’t think for even a second of teasing her for it, simply accepting the offer and offering whatever intimacy Wednesday was ready to accept.

Enid: Alright, Willa. You ready?

Wednesday: No… but, with you by my side, I am not afraid.

Enid nods and the two girls, hand in hand, go out to face the unimaginable. Together.

End <3

(Sorry the formatting on this is a little weird, I just couldn’t make up my mind on how to write this, either in IQ style or regular fic style. So I decided to just merge them. Hope this is still enjoyable lol. Thanks for reading!)

[awkward-sultana]

Scenes I would have liked to see in Magnificent Century (always being updated)

These are just things I would have liked to see, or honestly just hyper specific scenes I’ve envisioned in my own head. Don't come at me about realism. That's not why any of us are here.

Would love to hear everyone's opinions and what you would have like to see in the show!

Hürrem telling Suleiman about Leo and him accepting it A big part of Hürrem’s power in the harem in the show is that she got away with a lot of things, whether it be through manipulation or Suleiman’s love for her, but mostly it was through being smart and manipulative. That’s a huge part of her character, but it would have been nice to see a moment where she doesn’t win and has to come clean to Suleiman. His acceptance of Leo would have made their love more genuine in my eyes. He knew she was a slave and had a life before him.

Hürrem's past as a priest’s daughter When Hürrem went to Edirne, it would have been great to see her open the palace to the sick and nursed them instead of sitting there helplessly in literally one spot the whole time. We saw her help Hatice medically in seasons 1 and 2 and she was a priest’s daughter so we know she saw a lot of sickness and has some basic idea of giving aid.

Hürrem seriously going off on Suleiman at least once Again, a big part of Hürrem's legacy was how nuts Suleiman was for her and how she could get away with things other concubines couldn’t. I would have liked to see her really loser her temper at him at least once. Maybe go off about how difficult it is in the harem, being a woman battling for her life and her kids’ lives. It would have made their relationship seem deeper than it was in the show.

Generally seeing Suleiman's absolute obsession with Hürrem That man was nuts about her in real life. True Gomez and Morticia Addams.

Some good moments between young Mustafa and Hürrem Like thanking him for saving Mehmet from drowning in the first season or saying, “Thank you for being such a good big brother to my son.” She protected him during the janissary riots, but we didn’t see much day to day interactions between them. It would have made the distancing between them more impactful.

Another grown sultana in the family, like Mahidevran’s daughter Raziye It would have been great to see the dynamic between Mihrimah and another daughter, especially one that was older but still within her age range. The aunts were older than her and she constantly had to show them respect, so it didn’t feel like a fair fight. And Esmahan had to defer to Mihrimah too because she was the Sultan’s daughter. Another daughter who is equal to Mihrimah in most ways would have been fun.

Hürrem pulling away during the whole Firuze thing Hürrem had to stay on Suleiman’s good side because he’s the sultan, but I would have loved to see her pull away from him in small ways, like not spending time with him or choosing to eat alone and not with him. I’m a sucker for a good grovel.

Suleiman actually apologizing for things he’s done Again, I love a good grovel and it never happens in this show.  He always just got sick and woke up and told Hürrem how much he loved her. This goes into Hürrem pulling away during the Firuze arc and showing Suleiman her love is reasonably conditional. Again, real life Suleiman was whipped for Hürrem.

Ibrahim and Hürrem bonding at least once over being slaves and considering what their lives might have been like at home This kind of goes into my last point of Hürrem pulling away from Suleiman when he was with Firuze. I always thought that would be a great scene when they’re having dinner with the dynasty members when Firuze was in the picture. I envisioned Hürrem mulling about her “home” in Eastern Europe and confusing the dynasty about what "home" to her seems to mean now that's she's pretty unhappy, then asking Ibrahim in front of all of them what he thinks his life might have been like if he hadn’t been taken. This could have given way to a deep scene between Hürrem and Ibrahim as well as a sweet scene later on of Suleiman asking Hürrem to share her memories of her home.

Firuze slowly losing favor instead of an instantaneous decision There are so many deus ex machinas in the show that act as resolutions to issues and the Firuze thing was one of them. I would have liked to see her slowly lose favor, like treating Cihangir without permission from Hürrem or Suleiman, being disrespectful to Hürrem in front of him, or butting in on the family grieving Mehmet’s injury. 

Hafsa and Hürrem bonding over something other than hating Mahidevran, like the loss of Hürrem's unmentioned son It was great to see her realize  Mahidevran’s manipulations, but I hoped for a deeper resolution between her and Hürrem. We only see Hafsa acknowledging Cihangir’s illness like once or twice, which is so out of character, but I know they were trying to keep her firmly in the area of antagonist (crappy writing). Hürrem had another son, Şehzade Abdullah, who died as a toddler. Losing a child would have been a good bonding moment for them and brought them back as mothers.

Hurrem’s kids speaking Russian(?) One thing I always found wholesome is when children speak the language of both parents. It would have been a great homage to Hürrem's roots, since we didn’t see it a lot, especially in season 3. On that note, I would have liked to see Hürrem revert to her native tongue when she lost her temper, since that’s super common.

Mercan going over to Hürrem's side and staying in Season 4 One of Hürrem's best character traits was her ability to make her enemies her friends and Mercan was a great enemy. Convincing someone who was so zealously devoted to another dynasty member to come over to her side? Iconic. His and Sümbül's dynamic was also great and watching them being forced to work together would have been fun.

A reunion between Hürrem and Gulnihal, maybe Hürrem meeting Gülnihal's kids and husband and seeing Hürrem's kids grown Characters tend to disappear and never be mentioned again in this show despite their big influence on characters and their development. She should have gotten a kiss on the hand like Hatice and Suleiman did for Afife. She raised Hürrem's kids.

Ibrahim telling Suleiman to stay out of his marriage during the Nigar affair This is probably the most unrealistic thing I envisioned, but I love when one character beneath another in rank or station stands up to that person as a friend. And Ibrahim was getting bolder throughout the seasons so it wouldn’t have been totally out of character. 

Hürrem helping Nigar escape with her daughter instead of Firuze The whole Hürrem helping Firuze escape thing made no sense but it was in there to prove that Firuze was a spy. I think I speak for everyone in this fandom when I say I would have liked to see Hürrem help Nigar and Esmanur escape instead and the whole kidnapping Mihrimah’s baby thing not happen. But it would not hinge on the writer's hating Nigar's character and making her lose her mind and betraying Hürrem for a man.

Mihrimah being Selim’s valide sultan Mihrimah was well aware of the fratricide law, it was the whole reason she worked with Hürrem to kill Mustafa. She wasn’t so naïve to think her own brothers wouldn't get caught in each other’s crosshairs. Kösem forgave Osman for killing her own son, I don’t think it’s out of the realm of realism to see Mihrimah and Selim get back on good terms. It’s one of my favorite parts of her real life legacy.

Suleiman letting Hürrem do something really shady for him at least once He couldn't get his hands dirty, but he knew at least to some degree how cunning his wife was, even if he was willfully blind to it. Would have loved to see a "I won't ask questions" kind of conversation between them and Hürrem strolling from the room like a hitman for hire.

Cihangir seeing some sort of consequences for his naïve support of Mustafa As wise as he was, he was so painfully naïve when it came to Mustafa, seeing him face some consequences for that would have been satisfying.

Suleiman seeing more negative ramifications of sending Hürrem away in S3 Suleiman tended to send Hürrem off willy nilly because he could and not really take into account for the ramifications, especially in such a charged atmosphere. Seeing consequences to those choices would have been satisfying and would have reinforced Hürrem's importance as a partner, parent to adolescent children, harem ruler, etc.

Mihrimah’s trip back to the palace in S2 after Hürrem was ambushed being more difficult, like an actual kidnapping I really like antagonists being taken down by their own hubris and it would have been fun to see Hafsa suffer real consequences for her fake ambush. 

Hatice going off on Hafsa about how she treats Hürrem at least once in S2 She questioned her a few times in season 2, like when Hürrem's horse was stabbed. She did it a few times in calm ways in season 1 and once or twice in season 2, but seeing her lose her temper even a little would have been satisfying. I think this could have more happened if they had stuck to actual history and Hafsa had come as a slave and not a princess.

Suleiman seeking more comfort in Hürrem Suleiman was described as “weak” for Hürrem and it wasn’t really shown in his more emotional moments. The show expected us to be fine with his speeches and poems and see basic expressions of affection as “weakness.” When Ibrahim died, I would have really like to see him break down with Hürrem, his face in her stomach, the whole nine yards. He really just glared at her in that scene.

Hürrem and Suleiman being more of political and personal partners In the show a lot he tells her to “mind her business” and “don’t get involved in things that don’t concern you.” He also blew her off and treated her like a child when she voiced certain concerns (his condescending little smiles made me feral). A big part of her legacy was being an advisor to him and their abilities to share with each other what they couldn’t share with others.

The real importance of Hürrem's new haseki status and what that meant This was such a thing for me. Hürrem being the first with the haseki status was HUGE in the harem at the time but that whole story line was abandoned for the sake of rivalry between her and Mahidevran, which would have been there regardless. I hated seeing Hürrem curtsy to the sultanas in later seasons, especially in season 4 when Vahide was the actress. It was like having to watch Hafsa curtsy to anyone.

Mihrimah pulling away from Hürrem more during her engagement/marriage to Rüstem "Yeah, I'm doing this for my brothers but do you expect me to happy about it? Gush and fawn over having a kid with a man who kind of repulses me? I have postpartum depression? I'm super unhappy so I can't imagine why." Like I've mentioned before, big fan of having a character's ego come back and bite them and I think Hürrem should have suffered more consequences for basically telling Mihrimah her happiness doesn't matter. She was a little delusional in S4, acting all coy, telling Mihrimah she still loves Rüstem and they would find their way back to each other. Girl...she never liked her husband, stop trying to act like her homegirl and push her to be happy in a marriage she would have rather died than be in.

Gülfem standing up to Hatice at least once Hatice had a real high horse sometimes and even if she was insulting someone else, I could tell it made Gülfem feel a certain way because she was also a slave. This is yet another character I would have liked to see lose their temper in a more aggressive way. Like, girl, have some character development.

Some sort of resolution between Mihrimah and Esmahan Mihrimah had pretty much know other girl her age to lean on, I think it would have been easier to invest inheritance character if you saw her break down maybe once with Esmahan instead of trying to be tough. Like when Esmahan went to comfort her before her wedding. Mihrimha’s fake tough persona in that moment seemed hollow and just like a young bratty kid. Or when Humasah was kidnapped.

Bali Bey manhandle the sultanas a little bit during their questioning about Hürrem's disappearance I’m going to get a lot of flack for this one. I don’t mean him really putting his hands on the actresses, I mean like grabbing Şah's arm when she leaves. I like seeing haughty characters being taken down a peg. They would have seen they’re not as infallible as their status makes them feel.

More bonding between Gülfem and Hürrem at least once Gülfem lost a child and saw what Mahidevran and Hürrem had to go through fearing for their own sons. Hürrem had the chance to pay Gülfem some sort of compliment on the balcony when Cihangir was sick, like "I'm not as strong as you." Out of character, but this is basically an OOC post.

Hürrem let some things take their natural course Like when Mahidevran discharged Esma when she took charge of the harem. Suleiman would have caught on eventually that Hürrem was constantly unable to spend time with him due to taking care of 5 kids, or having to train brand new concubines.

Hatice being happy with her new husband I really liked him.

Hatice getting some closure about Sadika A big part of Hatice’s early character was her empathy for those below her (most of the time). She liked Sadika and wanted to see her happy and I’m sure Sadika had grown some affection for Hatice. I would have like to see Sadika write a letter to Hatice before attempting to murder Suleyman saying something along the lines of “I’m sorry for lying to you, my friendship with you was real but this was more important.”

Hürrem coming together with one of Suleiman's's sisters just as a fellow woman Maybe when Lutfi hit Şah, Hürrem was there and Şah let her pull her up off the floor. They were all women and mothers stuck in a patriarchy.

Mahidevran give Helena permission to clap back at Fatma In that scenes when Fatma was like "Did you really think you were going to marry him?" Saying something like, "At least he wanted to marry me" and Mahidevran laughing.

More affection between the concubines and other harem members and the royal kids They were all raised in the same harem, I'm sad we didn't get to see some found family-ish dynamics. Those kids must have had a lot of "aunts and uncles" in the servants. I'm sure Mihrimah saw more than just one or two of the concubines as mother/aunt/sister figures, especially as the Sultan's only daughter.

A better ending for Gülfem Because what the fuck was that?

Mihrimah going off on her aunts at least once While she had to defer to them because they were older and was an unspoken respect thing, she could get away with talking to them a certain way more than maybe Hürrem could. "I know you're trying to kill my mother and that can't happen because then what happens to us?" or "I know you killed Nazil, who raised us, and you thought we'd never find out and see you differently? Stop acting like you give an absolute flying fuck about us when you know what will happen if our mother is killed or Mustafa becomes Sultan. This is war."

Hürrem showing more affection to adult Mihrimah She absolutely had to defer towards her sons' safety, but sometimes she acted like she actively disliked her only daughter in S4.

Mihrimah not being a brat when she was young (S2) It would have made her rise to power more impressive and more endearing. Sometimes older Mihrimah just seemed like a princess who had never been told no so she always expected to win.

Mahiedvran and Hürrem sharing one sincere hug They had more things in common than not. They were both women, mothers, slaves stuck in a patriarchy and both could lose their sons with one decision from a man who has complete control.

Hürrem having more quietly pervasive PTSD symptoms. She displayed plenty of symptoms like hyperarousal, emotional over-stress, emotional dysregulations, hypervigilance, etc, but a lot of symptoms can be more quietly sinister and they missed that chance. The symptoms they did display first and foremost took away from her character because we couldn't differentiate all the time between angry Hürrem and traumatized Hürrem. "She's angry and violent and irritable? Oh, that's jUsT HüRrEm."

More rank-opposite hand kissing One trope I will forever and forever always live for is shows of deference opposite of rank. When Suleiman and Hatice kissed Afife's hand? Loved it. Suleiman kissing Hafsa's hand? Not totally the same, but kind of still love it.

Afife telling Şah and Hatice she was ashamed of them at least once Would have rocked their shit. And you know she for sure was.

Mihrimah being happy with Taşlıcalı in the end Probably the second most implausible head canon. They had both lost a lot and know what war costs, why not end up with another person who can empathize with your unique pain?

More of Gülfem and Hürrem's real historical relationship Always going to touch on sticking to historical accuracy when I get a chance. Leslie Peirce touches on the fact that Gülfem was probably more of a mentor to Hürrem than she was in the show, guiding Hürrem through what was an unprecedented rise in the harem and, therefore, a huge and probably shocking rise in responsibilities that Hürrem didn't know how to manage on her own. Suleiman trusted Gülfem with Hürrem when he was on campaign and Gülfem was most likely there when Hürrem died. Instead of being the dynasty's emotional support pet in season 3, we should have seen her turn coats for the better.

Women lashing out at each other for their children and not for a man The real reasons Mahidevran and Hürrem probably lashed out at each other the most was because the fratricide law dictated every facet of their lives. Love, sex and jealousy were not half as much on their minds as the show made it out to be. Let me see vicious mothers, not jealous girls.

Hafsa and Hürrem having one good hug Self explanatory

More about Suleiman's late children He had I think 2-3 children before Mustafa that all died of the plague that we never really heard about. And it would have given even more credence of the severity of Mahidevran trying to poison Hürrem when she was pregnant.

More about the entire royal family's grief and trauma with Sultan Selim I That man was batshit and you hear offhanded comments such as "I see your father when I look at you" when Suleyman does something cruel. Go more into that. What was it like to fear for your life, your son's/brother's/uncle's lives? Selim I literally hunted half his family down and executed them. It would have given them so much more depth as characters.

Leo haunting Ibrahim In the back of scenes, the blurry character the audience only just notices, the specter standing over this shoulder in a quiet room, the beating heart beneath the floorboards. The start of the death of his innocence given form, standing at the end of the hall as his body is being carried away. Fucking art.

Nigar being on Hürrem's side in season 3 and being totally psycho about it I would like like to see Nigar regrow the brain cell she had in season 1, but maintained her scorched earth policy in season 3, but on Hürrem's side. Would have been great. Snapped: Harem Edition.

The Development of Esma and Hürrem's relationship Esma was one of the harem girls Hürrem didn't like at the beginning of the first season and then she was one of the only people Hürrem ever trusted with her children. I would have liked to see that development, or at least the moment Hürrem chose Esma to be her kid's nanny.

[scoundrels-in-love]

I've dreamt about you (nearly) every night this week

The hour is too late, Jaime is too shirtless much on their videocall and Brienne's fantasies run away from her at mention of 'pillowtalk'. Also on AO3. Part of Braime Monthly Madness/Mutual Pining March.

She misses Jaime.

It’s frustrating to admit, but true nonetheless. While Brienne does enjoy the vibrating, ever-changing air of her profession, she discovered early that she needs at least a few reliable things in her life to keep her sanity and happiness. Working out on specific days, a call to her father at least once every two weeks, even if she has to keep it brief, a lengthy brunch with Sansa and (or) Margaery once a month or more often if their schedules allow it though they text and call each other plenty, are part of her subtle routine. 

Somehow, Jaime has become one such pillar of stability. Snuck his way deeper and deeper into her weeks with a wink and takeout box as he comes over for a movie night, with surprise visits to her set when they don’t share it. Embedded himself in countless ways that leave tiny holes through which blankness presses through, now that he’s gone for the third month, doing promotions for his newest movie and shooting a reality show in Dorne. 

It’s not the first time they’ve not seen each other for a while, but this is certainly the longest in the last two years. And so, she is lying in her bed, staring at her ceiling and trying not to think of how much she misses his voice and laughter, and definitely not about the photos of him shirtless on beach that had been plastered all over yellow pages and Weirnet that he had the gall to forward to her with a cheeky comment how he can’t let her forget how handsome he is.

(As if she could, as if her dreams aren’t often invaded by his smile, the warm light in his eyes that’s one spark from incinerating, his breathy laughter in her ear, his hand slipping lower ... )

She finally wrestles all the images away and feels sleep beginning to blur the edges of her thoughts when her phone begins buzzing. Her sleepy frown dissolves at Jaime would like to start a videocall.

It’s a little later than their usual calls, but she accepts. If she’s got to end it soon, at least she can do so after smothering some of her insatiable longing. “Hey Jaime,” she starts, but whatever was meant to follow dies on Brienne’s lips.

Jaime’s reclined on a pillow and he must be holding the phone with extended hand, as she can see most of his exposed chest, almost glowing in the warm light of lamps. Because he’s shirtless. And grinning at her in a way that’s a mix of faux innocence and glee, as if he knows exactly how her stomach leaped or maybe knotted up - she’s not exactly sure but it definitely did something. 

“It’s hot in here,” he offers as an explanation and she hopes she hasn’t been silent for as long as she thinks she’s been. She’s also utterly unconvinced and drops the phone to the side, much to his immediate protest, to shift her pillows so she can do this more comfortably and with less double chin inducing angles. Like seeing her face in the corner of the screen, compared to all, well, that, isn’t enough of a reminder that her fluttering longings aren’t meant to survive the frost of reality. But the one time she tried to turn off her camera, Jaime protested so loudly it almost convinced her he misses her face, too.

“It’s 11pm, Jaime, don’t you have early filming tomorrow?” she asks when she’s settled, trying to avoid looking at anything but his face, though it’s hard when the screen is comparatively small. Isn’t his arm getting tired?

“No. Besides, I just need to tell you what nonsense Lysa Tully pulled today - you know there’s no one else I’d rather complain to.”

She wants to joke that it’s because he has no other options anyway, but doesn’t because it’s true. Jaime cannot call his siblings to joke about the latest nonsense on set, Bronn would only ask for dirty parts, Addam’s probably predisposed with something of his own. Even Elia and Lyanna are not exactly available these days, enjoying their family holiday. Though he has found tentative friendship with some of her friends and co-workers, it’s not the sort for such late night talks. And in truth, there’s no one else she’d rather speak with after a long day, either. 

So, how can she deny him this? “Fine, I’ll bite. What did she do now?” 

One story turns into another and an hour later, they both have shifted to be laying down more comfortably (thank the gods, now she can lie to herself that she’s unaware how he’s shirtless beyond the frame). The conversation putters out bit by bit, replaced by warmth and sleepiness. Or perhaps it’s the first, the sense of safety, that brings about the second. 

“We should do pillow talks like these more often. In real life, too.” 

Suddenly, she feels quite awake. And thankful the dim light hides the blush burning across her face. 

There is no way his word choice is deliberate, but the want goes from thawed and simmering on low fire, to molten steel in a flash. It’s not just the images of him sweaty and mussed up that her brain unhelpfully provides based on his post-training looks, it’s also basking in warmth of his grin, discovering if she likes to be genuinely held afterward, the softness of his voice and his hair as she would brush it out of his face, trace hand down his stubbled jaw that has left a pleasant burn across her--

The word holds too much promise, if only in her mind’s definition. And not one she can clarify with Jaime.

Especially since he loves to tease her, has outright told her he loves to make her flustered. Flirts only to see her fumbling reaction, just as Margaery does (even now, that she has proclaimed Brienne to be ‘tragically straight’). 

So, Brienne grasps at something safe instead. “You fell asleep on my shoulder last time you were over,” she reminds him, smiling a little at the memory. One of the reasons why they don’t R.aven movies together when they’re separated like this is because nodding off at end of second or third movie individually just isn’t the same, compared to the way they slowly gravitate toward each other when sharing a couch until someone (usually Jaime) is falling asleep on the other. The other is that reading his typo riddled, rushed commentary and responding to it is incredibly distracting and makes Brienne miss half the movie. 

“Speaking of which, we both should go to sleep.” It’s past midnight and he might not have an early morning (which Brienne doesn’t entirely believe), she actually does.

“Five more minutes,” he asks, not unlike a petulant child, but she doesn’t have the heart to deny this mutual indulgence.

Brienne doesn’t know when the five minutes turn into maybe twenty or thirty and when they dissolve into dreamless sleep, but she wakes up trying to nuzzle her face into the phone which definitely does not compare to the comfort of her pillow. The clock informs her it is almost 4am and upon unlock, the videocall goes fullscreen once more.

She can’t tell if Jaime propped his phone up quite so right before she fell asleep or after, which would mean he didn’t end the call when she nodded off. The thought should be uncomfortable, and there are definitely twinges of embarrassment as she had had to wipe drool away from the screen, instead she feels detached from anything but a tender longing that cocoons her thoughts, tangles them up and drags them away from any logic. 

Perhaps this sleepy, slow warmth is poison that will kill her, but Brienne is willing to risk it, just to stay in this kind of liminal, magical space in which their lives cross with the impossible reality where their pillowtalks adhere to her wistful definition. 

He has twisted away from the phone some, she can mostly only see the pillow, stump and his profile at an angle. For a while, she feels content just to watch him, taking in his relaxed features and the calm rise and fall of his chest. Sometimes, she has indulged in looking when he falls asleep next to or on her, but the urge to touch becomes too much quickly. (Work is where the best of both worlds cross paths and she has cover easily available, but at the same time her mind is occupied with the task at hand.)

Here, she doesn’t have to cover the reason her touch lingers, is safe from waking the man with a finger tracing his lips or skirting down his neck to rest on his exposed chest. The thought of pressing kiss below his ear, to his collarbone, scraping teeth across the hollow of his throat doesn’t pull her closer to him like the world's most powerful magnet drags a huge, crude iron rod. (Merely because he isn’t tangibly there.) She can risk-freely think of the little noise he would probably make before opening eyes, pupils blown wide for more than the low light. “I thought we were supposed to sleep,” Jaime would say, voice husky like it sometimes dips when they’re alone in the makeup trailer, even lower still, but he would already be reaching for her. “Well, there is more than one meaning to the word,” she would say and -- 

Brienne pushes the end call button with speed that outraces her heart. 

There are things that can be squinted at until they grow blurry enough to be seen as ‘we are friends and he is a very attractive man, a stray thought or two is bound to happen’. (Though she has been with a friend, and it wasn’t even starlight during the day compared to the scorching sun that is Jaime.) And then there are moments that cross any and all borders of appropriate, of what she can afford. This is definitely of the second sort. Worse, not only it is the indulgence of the highest degree, it also skirts too close to being a creep. Shame washes away last threads of desire. 

Jaime deserves better than to be ogled while asleep and groped at in her fantasies. He is her friend, with his confusing comments and heated gazes and face she cannot get tired of in or outside work, and a smile that can fill her with dread just as much as bone melting gladness. And she can’t, can’t erase it from her life just because he is so lovable and so beautiful there is ache behind her breastbone, trickling all the way into her fingertips. 

She double checks if her alarm is on and then puts the phone on the bedside table. Tosses and turns in the dark, as if heaviness in her has somehow slipped into the mattress and made it all lumpy. But eventually, sleep reclaims her and when she wakes, a text from Jaime already waits for her (so much for not having an early morning): What happened to call

I guess it timed out or something. Maybe WiFi got temporarily disconnected. she responds after a respectable amount of time, right before she drives to the studio. It’s only a white lie, far more innocent than the real reason. But that doesn't help her rapidly growing guilt, at all. 

He texts back almost immediately: Shame wanted u to be the first thing I see when I wake up

And if she replies only hours later, with a random update of her day, it’s definitely not because me too rang so loudly in her chest that she forgot all other words. 

[billiemarquez]

stats: Billie Marquez, 26 (b. July 16th, 1993.) she/hers (cis woman.) occupation: session musician at Gold Star Recording Studios (guitar, vocals) / singer-songwriter working the Nashville scene drinks: Sidecar, Corpse Reviver, whiskey sour, pomegranate margarita

sounds like: Lera Lynn, Marika Hackman, Larkin Poe, Billie Marten, Ruby Friedman

+ driven. charming. adventurous. observant. – fickle. self-destructive. macabre. private.

misc. likes banter, likes fun, is laidback and Chill TM. bi af. loves a good boot, enjoys bolo ties, has a pen on her at all times. lighter, too, though she doesn’t really smoke. enjoys a good Bad Idea. dresses like if morticia addams was into southern / southwestern gothic and disco, with a pitstop at hollywood glam & marty robbins’ wardrobe. macabre. likes a good murder ballad. jokes to Cope.

history

( tw physical/verbal domestic / child abuse, murder and suicide, death of parents, implied self-destructive behavior. tl;dr at the end )

The version of Billie Marquez that Billie willingly presents, is this:

City like Nashville, everyone’s got a sob story. Hers isn’t any different – her parents were fucked up, and they fucked her over in the process, but now, it’s water under the bridge, nothing to worry about. She’s got a job, got a roof over her head, and hey – I’m here, ain’t I? Dig a little deeper, get to know her a little more, and she might tell you that her uncle took her in when she was 16. She’ll tell you her parents died in a way that implies it’s an accident, and she’ll tell you that the guitar’s the only constant in her life, ‘sides her aforementioned uncle.

The version of Billie Marquez that Billie has tried to bury, is this:

She remembers it with startling clarity: the sound of crickets in the nearby field, the buzz of the street lamp flickering out overhead. The car that drove past her some ten minutes before she stood out on the porch, red taillights burned into her memory, by virtue of being the last thing of note before her existence upended itself.

If her life was a movie, she’d be saying I’d felt something was off ever since I got off my shift. Couldn’t shake the feeling the whole ride home – but truth is, that evening didn’t feel any more wrong than usual. Her parents fought and Billie drowned it out with her guitar; that was how shit went. For as long as she could remember, the two of them would scream themselves hoarse, eager to break something – themselves or each other, two ill-fitting pieces who had tried and failed to make a home. Hell, she came away with a couple bruises of her own; could smell the booze rolling off them, even on the good days. It was bad, sure. But she still didn’t have a clue about what she’d be coming home to, that night.

The gunshot echoed through her, left her cold as a ghost despite the warmth of a Texan summer.

Mama, dead on the kitchen floor, long-gone by the time Billie came in. Daddy, in his arm chair, shotgun still warm.

She called the cops. Then she threw up, right in the kitchen sink, the stink of hot bile and fry grease clinging to her like it would never leave.

No note. Nothing to explain what had happened, why it happened – if she might have died, too, if it hadn’t been for the extra shift she’d picked up at the last minute. (Could she have stopped it? Done something different? Changed the outcome? She hasn’t found the answer, yet.)

They had no family to speak of in Texas, and besides, Billie didn’t want to stay. Calling her uncle was a last minute idea, the plea of a kid at the end of the line. Mama rarely spoke of her older brother, but when she did – when she had – it had been highly, and never in the company of daddy. Things had gone sour, that much Billie knew. The band hadn’t worked out, and when her uncle kept booking jobs, it had left her father bitter.

“Hey– is this Stavo Marquez?” “—Gabriela? Is that you?” “No. It’s– Billie. I’m your niece? I, uh..”

Mama was right. Her brother was a good man, decent and kind, the type who took in his estranged niece and came all the way to Texas to bring her back to Nashville. The kind of man who may not have fathered her, but who became her dad, who saw the talent in her and mentored it further.

The version of Billie Marquez that Billie likes most, is this:

She booked a job because she’s Billie, not Stavo Marquez’ niece; and then she kept booking them because she’s fucking good at what she does. Her guitar and her singing got her through her childhood, got her through those first months in Nashville, and has kept her going ever since. It’s her most singular obsession, the woman a devil at the strings. She’s happiest when she’s working, and her hours in-between her steady gig as a session musician, or going over her own material, are spent roaming oddity shops and the two bars closest to Gold Star Recording Studios – Coyote Ugly and Claddagh. She’s been a regular that bounces between the two for a few years now, leaving her well-acquainted with both scenes. She’s known to be flighty – she falls in and out of love, and while she never tries to be cruel about it, it’s a known fact around the neighbourhood that Billie’s not the kind that sticks around. She likes fun, likes to feel mindless, enjoys the banter and spectacle of the two bars; fuck it, she even participates in it, sometimes. She works hard and plays hard, because if she stops, she’ll have to think about that house back in Texas, and that’s the last thing she wants.

TL;DR

– grew up in an abusive home in Texas with two alcoholic parents. – the year Billie turned 16, her father killed her mother, and then himself. she doesn’t know why, and it haunts her more than she wants to admit. – she moved to Nashville to live with her uncle, a well-known musician among the Nashville industry. she took his (and her mother’s) last name. – she’s a very talented artist in her own right, and has a steady job at Gold Star Recording Studios as one of their most-booked session musicians. she does guitar (both electric and acoustic) and vocals, and has been dabbling at the piano as well. – loves love, loves to be loved, fucking Sucks at loving others: she doesn’t keep people around for long, and is the kind of dummy that would like to somehow stay friends with her exes. as much as it’s true that Billie’s better at being friends, she’s the one that breaks things off, and it tends to leave people with a sour taste in their mouth.

wanted connections (more TBA)

( i’m super into just seeing where characters go, so if you want a thread but wanna check the chemistry before you hit the past connections, don’t be afraid to hit me up! we can just toss ‘em together and see where it goes✨ )

friends – Garrett ‘Doc’ Reese, ? While Coyote Ugly’s her current go-to, she’s been flitting about for years, Claddagh right across the street. She’s friendly, likes people, tips as well as she can depending on what the cash flow’s like that month, and doesn’t mind when people have rough edges – she doesn’t have a whole lot herself, but she grew up around people who did.

exes – Sonny Taylor, Talon Ayers, ? Billie’s.. flighty. It’s not that she’s purposefully cruel, which might be easier to handle. She’s genuinely sweet, genuinely caring, but she can never seem to stomach the idea of settling down. If she doesn’t break up with them first, it’s likely that they’ve met the Billie Marquez Wall: she’s spent years perfecting the easiest version of her story, and she has genuine trouble letting anyone in.

colleagues – Nashville’s firmly a music town – so who else does she know from the open bars and studio sessions? Any collaborations in the works, people she’s played with?

[chiliscale]

Roadhouse Nights

For @wincestwritingchallenge

Prompt: The High Priestress ( feminine influences, insightfulness, intuition, reason should take second place to instinct)

My partner: @sweet-sammy-kisses

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Other Tags: Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle. Ash, Roadhouse, Outside POV

Rating: General Audiences

Word count: 2704

Summary: Ellen has been watching them for months now. She´s seen the pining, the hidden touches, the secret looks… and she´s about done with it. If those damned Winchester´s are too stubborn to pull their heads out of their asses themselves, then she´s just the right woman to do it for them.

Link: AO3

There´s a shout and a crash, the sound of splintering wood, loud laughter echoing through the bar, heads turning to see what all the ruckus is about. Crude jokes fly through the air, followed by good-natured mocking, and Ellen lifts her head from the counter to check if any intervention on her part is needed.

Her staff is already on the move though, Perry and Dunham deftly pulling Elkins off the floor and escorting him outside, Tina abandoning her tray of empty glasses in favor of grabbing a mop and a trashcan to clean up the mess of spilled beer and broken chair pieces. It´s over in the span of a few minutes, and most people are already turning their attention back to their own conversations. Business as usual, then.

Ellen sighs and pours cheap whiskey into glasses, collects some of the empty beer bottles littering the bar and adds the broken chair to Elkins´ tap - there´s no way that bastard´s not going to pay for the damage he´s caused.

It´s just another normal Saturday night: hunters crowding her bar, the smell of male sweat and alcohol thick in the air, everyone trying to one-up their drinking partners with stories of glory, blood, and monster guts.

At the table to her left, a smaller group of hunters starts singing their own horrid rendition of some semi-famous country song Ellen can´t remember the name of, and it really shouldn´t surprise her that it´s Ash´s voice that stands out the loudest. Genius he may be, but that kid can´t carry a tune for the life of him…

Jo joins her behind the bar and starts piling fresh beer bottles onto her tray, grimacing in pain when Ash hits another high note. Resigning, Ellen rolls her eyes and empties the vodka bottle into the half-filled beer glass in front of her – once Ash´s reached this particular state of drunkenness, there´s only one way to shut him up: get him pass-out drunk and let him sleep it off; and judging by his antics, it is definitely time to speed things up a little... She hands the vodka spiked beer to Tina and then turns her attention back to her regular patrons, pouring drinks and collecting money with well-practiced movements.

Another bout of laughter floats over, warm and genuine this time, and Jo pauses and looks up, gaze fixed at something over at the pool tables.

Well, Ellen amends, or rather at a someone, if the wistful look in her daughter´s eyes is anything to go by…

It´s not like Ellen can blame her: Dean Winchester is every girl´s wet dream, every parent´s worst nightmare. From those broad shoulders to that cocky smile, green eyes sparkling in the dim bar light, leather jacket straining over his biceps – that boy´s sex on legs, dangerous and mysterious, confident and charming enough to flirt his way into most women´s beds. He´s a damn good hunter too, way more intelligent than he´s letting on, and Ellen´s known him and Sam long enough to realize that they´re both hiding a heart of gold underneath that rough big-bad-hunter exterior.

But Dean´s also too much like his father, too focused on his mission to care for much else, too entangled with the hunting life, with his brother, to offer her daughter more than heartbreak and sorrow. The Winchester´s path is a bloody one, and as much as she´s learned to love those boys, she´s not about to lose another member of her family to hunting. Not without fighting it with everything she has.

Determined to break the moment, Ellen slams down the tequila bottle, and Jo jumps and shakes out of her daydreams with a high-pitched sound of surprise. Her daughter gives her a sheepish smile, well aware that she´s been caught, and hurriedly scurries away to exchange empty beer bottles with full ones.

Ellen shakes her head in exasperation and then stacks dirty glasses into the dishwasher, grabbing a towel to dry off the newly washed ones.

Her gaze drifts a bit as she works, lingers on the poker game that´s taking place a few feet away, and slides further up to where Gareth and McMartins are trying to convince Addams to join in on their werewolf hunt five towns over.

It´s not so much by accident than a rule of physics that her eyes finally get stuck on Sam Winchester´s broad back. The kid´s easily towering over everyone else in the bar (excluding Ash, who´s currently dancing on a damn table) and even his hunched shoulders and bend neck do nothing to make him less visible.

Ellen frowns – that posture can´t be good for the boy, and she´s tried talking it out of him a few times already. At this point, the whole things is probably instinctual rather than a conscious choice though, a bad habit that is hard to get rid of. She´s seen the kid fully upright once or twice only, and it has always been in response to a threat – Sam´s going to have some serious back problems once he´s older.

If he lives to see thirty, that is…

She ruthlessly shoves that thought away and grabs a new glass to dry, silently watches as Dean lines up another shot, shamelessly showing off for the little fan club that has gathered around the table in the hopes of catching his attention. He succeeds in sinking a few balls, but messes up the next shot, grudgingly stepping aside to let Sam take over. The older Winchester watches from the sightlines as Sam works his own magic at the pool table, gaze firmly fixed on his brother even as he jokes with the three girls surrounding him.

Some new patrons draw Ellen´s attention away, and when she looks over next, Dean has slung an arm around his brother´s shoulders, triumphant grin broadcasting his victory. It´s strangely endearing to see how well they fit together, bodies leaning into each other without a conscious thought, their sides pressed together comfortably, as if that´s right where they belong, not an inch of space between them.

For a second, Sam looks almost small in Dean´s arms, almost fragile despite his bigger frame, but the little-brother moment is gone before Ellen can fully pinpoint it, and then Sam shoves Dean off with a smile and excuses himself, apparently done with his brother´s flirting and determined to leave him to his hook-ups.

Dean watches him go, shoulders slumping slightly before he catches himself and turns his million-watt smile back onto his would-be conquests.

Ellen loses sight of Sam as another wave of costumers demands her attention and for a while, she´s too busy handling the bar to pay any mind to the Winchesters.  It´s nearly fifteen minutes later when she finds another quiet moment.

By then, Dean´s back to playing some newbie hunter who´s obviously not yet had the pleasure of being defeated by a Winchester, and this time it´s Sam watching from the distance, large frame nearly disappearing into the shadows of his chosen bar corner.  

Dean´s not even paying his opponent full attention, too busy flirting with his fan club to focus entirely on the game. Ellen does not miss the looks he´s throwing Sam, though, doesn´t miss how Dean´s constantly angling his body to allow him to keep his brother in his line of sight, doesn´t miss the silent communication that passes between those two.

She also doesn´t miss the hurt on Sam´s face when one of the girls curls a hand around Dean´s biceps, she sees the sad little smile when Dean leans closer in response, sees how Sam´s grip on his beer bottle tightens, how his shoulders tense and how he curls into himself even more as he withdraws deeper into the shadows.

The look in Sam´s eyes is one she´s seen a million times before on other people´s faces – there´s so much longing, so much love, so much hopelessness… It´s not a look you´re supposed to direct towards a sibling.

It had been hard to detect at first, the brother´s unusual closeness covering most of their weird relationship dynamics, Dean´s constant flirting doing the rest to distract from anything out of the ordinary. But Ellen´s always been good at reading people and it hasn’t taken her long to pick up on the looks, the touches. Sam´s quiet longing, Dean´s louder self- depreciation. She doesn’t need Ash´s level of genius to read the signals right…

Ellen knows this should probably disgust her, and disgust had been her knee-jerk reaction at first, common sense and the rules of society telling her how wrong this is. But a hunter´s life is complicated and she´s learned a long time ago that unusual doesn’t necessarily mean bad. She´s been in love herself, has loved without reason or rhyme, knows how impossible it is to fight this – who is she to condemn someone else´s feelings?

The boys are adults. Old enough, mature enough.

Still, she can´t help but feel grateful that John isn´t around to witness this… can´t help but wonder if he knew…

Dean laughs, draws the brunette closer to whisper in her ear, and Sam cringes and drains his beer, gathers his plaid shirts and jacket, determined to flee the scene.

Oh hell, no.

Ellen huffs and throws her towel down – she´s watched this fiasco long enough, has tried to direct those boys with subtle hints and quiet encouragement, but has obviously misjudged the legendary Winchester stubbornness. God save her from men and their emotional stupidity - time for some female intervention.

“Jo, you´re in charge.”

She grabs two beers and is on her way before her daughter finds the voice to protest. Sam looks up in surprise when she slides one of her beers over and grabs his arm to keep him in place, silently ordering him to stay put. He obeys reluctantly, sits back down and smiles (well, grimaces) at her.

“Hey, Ellen.”

“You´re leaving already? Tired of watching Dean flirt his way through the whole bar?”

Sam shrugs solemnly, fingers finding the label of his beer bottle and starting to peel it off.

“We´ve had a busy few weeks. Not much time for fun or distraction… I can tell him to lay off, if you want me to, though, he´ll understand.”

Ellen only snorts.

“I can handle your brother if I need to, Winchester. No need for you to intervene on my behalf.”

They just sit for a while, quietly enjoying their drinks, Ellen watching Sam watching Dean, silently cataloguing the emotions that play over his face. The longing´s even more obvious from up close, and she wonders how she could´ve spend so many weeks in the dark, how anyone can spend more than ten minutes with those two in one room without realizing the truth.

Then again, those boys are head over heels for each other, and none of them has even the slightest idea that their feelings are returned, either.

“You should tell him, you know.”

Sam blinks at her, confusion clouding his face, but she only quirks an eyebrow meaningfully, and shifts her eyes to where Dean´s ass is high up in the air as he bends over the pool table to get a better shot.

It´s painful to watch the horror descend over Sam´s face, to see the panic in his eyes before he manages to rein himself in. His shoulders tense and he opens his mouth, closes it again, has to try several times before he manages to force out some words.

Ellen´s never wanted to hug someone this badly.

“I – Ellen. Tell him what? I don´t… What do you…”

She settles for the direct approach, lets her hand rest on Sam´s right forearm and squeezes gently.

“You love him. And not only in the way a brother should… There´s more. Took me a while to see it, but it´s unmistakable now.”

Sam´s still struggling for words, denial clear on his face, but they both know that he´s been caught.

“Please, Ellen.” There´s something shaky in his voice, something broken and defeated, something she never wants to her in his voice ever again. “You can´t tell him. You can´t. Dean wouldn’t – he doesn’t...”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Sam.”

She cradles his huge hand in hers, gently tries to loosen the death grip his fingers have on his beer bottle.

“I´ve seen the way you look at him, all the love, all the adoration in your eyes… Dean looks at you the same way – like you´re the single most important thing in all of creation, like he´d give up everything for you in a heartbeat.”

Sam´s shaking his head wordlessly, still unable to meet her eyes.

“It´s okay, Sam. We´re okay.”

Ellen knows that Dean has noticed that something´s wrong by now, can feel his eyes boring into her back, knows that he´s fidgeting, trying to decide if he´s supposed to come over and save Sam from her clutches or if that would only earn him a tongue-lashing too.

“What you and Dean share… It´s special. Precious. Most people don´t ever make the kind of connection that you two have, and with the life us hunters lead… I can´t believe that I´m actually saying this, but stop thinking with your head, Sam. Stop trying to find reasons why this is wrong. Listen to your instincts. You´ve been struggling with this for years, haven´t you? Maybe your heart isn´t as wrong as you believe it to be.”

Sam´s face is still stoic and disbelieving, but there´s also tentative hope, small and fragile, but there… Maybe that´s all those boys ever needed – acceptance, someone giving them permission.

“Talk to him, Winchester.”

Ellen drains her beer and gets up again, buries her understanding-counselor persona deep under her usual gruff attitude, and searches Sam´s eye one last time.

“And Sam? Knock some sense into that brother of yours. That boy is even more caught up in his head than you are, he´s going to need some convincing… Don´t let him bullshit you, he wants this just as much as you do.”

With that she turns and heads back to the bar, grinning when she watches from the corner of her eyes as Dean beelines to his brother´s side immediately, shooting an angry glance in her direction when he sees the state Sam´s in.

She´s not sure if her little stunt has done any good or just made everything worse - those boys are too damn bullheaded! But well, if push comes to shove, there´s always the good old get-everyone-drunk-and-shove-them-into-a-supply-closet approach; a move she has perfected over the years – hunter´s are a stubborn folk, and as brilliant as some of them are when it comes to hunting, feelings are a whole different matter.

Ellen ignores Jo and her curious glances and goes back to serving beer again, wipes down the counter and collects the keys from some of her drunk-off-their-asses’ regulars.

In the far corner, Dean is quietly whispering with Sam, foreheads nearly touching as he tries to get his brother to talk. Ellen catches Sam´s eyes and winks, smirks as he blushes, and then turns towards her daughter, who is still looking between the three of them quizzically, and shoos her back to work.

Some idiot at the poker table has been caught cheating and it takes her some time to settle the ensuing dispute, her loaded shotgun making another one of it´s infamous appearances and reminding everyone of the Roadhouse´s no-fistfights-in-the-bar policy.

Ash has finally reached his limits, and he only gives another loud snore when Ellen none-too-gently pokes his side, flopping onto his stomach without waking, blissfully unaware of the warding symbols people have drawn all over his face.

Jo is once again back at the pool tables, pouring tequila shots and distributing beers among the hunters gathered there, her eyes roaming the crowd and narrowing in confusion when she doesn’t find what she´s looking for.

A quick check-up reveals that Sam´s table in the far corner is empty now, no sign of plaid anywhere to be found, and Ellen mentally high-fives herself and turns to the next patron with a smug smile on her face.

Those Winchester boys really do owe her a big one after this.

[scoundrels-in-love]

1, 3, 4 and 18 for the shipping asks?

Hi sweetheart!! Thank you for asking!

1. What was your first OTP? I think my first one would be Han and Leia, though I knew they’d be together by time I watched movies (around 10 or so). But I didn’t get super invested until much later. Though I will never forget how I screamed at my TV that ‘you will love her!!’ when Han said he’s either going to kill her or like her and my brother glared at me.

The first ship I read shitton fics of, despite not having watched original material was Jareth and Sarah from Labyrinth, courtesy of a friend. This was when I was 14.

But my first shippy ship, the sort I get invested in fandom beyond stray fanfic, was Jisbon from the Mentalist. What I joined Tumblr for and read more fics than I can count and so much meta and even rambled to my mom with. It sort of felt like my real first OTP, in every sense.

Though I do think Han and Leia technically predate and I have many feelings for them and they shaped a lot of things for me and I’ve spent countless hours on their fics as well.

3. Do you have any OT3/OT+ ships? What are your favorites?I have some OT3/OT+ ships, though usually they’re a step lower than my OTPs of same fandom. Some examples would be Steve/Nancy/Jonathan or Them + Kali from Stranger Things, while Mileven is my main OTP and I love Kali/Steve + Nancy/Jonathan as separate ships that are friends.

Also, recently been having Feelings about Jaime/Brienne/Addam from GoT.

And if, unrealistically, Rey/Finn/Poe happened, I’d be quite pleased though they’re not my primary ship.

4. What is/are your favorite trope(s)?Going to steal the answer I wrote a while ago to such question so I don’t have to retype the essay, because it’s true.

I am someone who has hard time picking favorites, but something that has stuck to me through the years, from back when I was 8 is ‘enemies (to friends) to lovers’ trope.

There’s, of course, certain balance that must be met. Some things push the enemy thing too far (r*pe, for example) and I genuinely want at least one sided appreciation/respect from the start, underneath all the bickering and snarking, even if the party denies it. From there on, it grows, so wonderfully despite being on opposite sides of things/views and gives way to begrudging respect and care and first glimpse of love and then the couple loves each other, knowing the worst of the other and how to handle it and knowing how to nourish and support the good, and it’s so damn beautiful.

Also fond of found family, deeply. And as I’ve grown older, I’ve gained much deeper appreciation for just companionship and love founded on friendship without very strong (or any) enemy phase. Usually goes hand in hand with castle sized soft pining, to be honest.

Most of the time, these tropes are actually ingrained in ship dynamics themselves, instead of adding On. So, something that only fanfic sometimes gives is Communication and Hurt/Comfot, especially emotional sort. Lot of characters I love have lot of trauma, even if it’s never properly acknowledged by canon (*cough* Leia Organa *cough*) and I like when fics do it and give them the comfort they deserve. Also self projecting/soothing for the win.

18. What is your favorite unpopular ship?Hmm, what is defined as unpopular? Something Canon that’s not widely known? Not yet canon ship? A crackship?

I’d say I’m very fond of Monrosalee despite the small fandom of Grimm from which great part shipped the male of it with show’s protagonist. It’s definitely my smallest absolutely canonical ship. Then there’s Finnrey, which is also not that large in fandom, overshadowed by bunch of other ships, but has chances of being canon and I’m going down with the ship anyway, denial fics and all, if need be.

And then there’s a crackship, which would be Stali or Staloncy (the ot4) from Stranger Things. Unfortunately, Kali has never and probably never will interact with anyone else in the ships but does that mean I am not emotional mess over them? Nope.

Send me shipping ask?