#its been six years since ive seen her live

[snippydippy]

MikuExpo 2024, San Jose in four days!!! I'm so stoked.

[strange-dreams-are-made-of-these]

Playing Games With This Old Heart

Summary: You need to make cash fast after losing your job. After stumbling on a job, you can't help but to think about your first customer. And he can't get you out of his head.

Warnings: no smut, no fluff, still MDNI as this will be a planned series, canon typical violence, hints of death of a loved one (prior to story), animal death (bear), angst, Female Mutant!Reader with regenerative healing factor.

A/N: It's been two years since ive poste dont his account, so i hope you guys wont hold that against me. Please take this sample of a fic with our favorite X-Man.

Word Count: 4.7 k words

The days were shifting between the long summer heat and a cooler breeze as the leaves started to change from their usual green and full thick coverings to reds, yellows, and browns before leaving their life-sustaining tree and falling to the ground. There was something subtle about the sound of leaves crunching under ones footstep that somehow felt calming. The ground around your home was littered with the fine needles of the Douglas Fir trees that had a very distinct pine smell to them. It was a welcoming smell for you, having lived the majority of your life in rural Montana, the fresh smell of pine felt like home.

The colorful coat of the Maine Coon cat you owned stood out against the green throw blanket placed on the couch, the place he dubbed his spot. His name was Felix and he had been your fury best friend of nearly six years now. He showed up one day on your doorstep when it was raining with his mother. Not knowing much about cats, but knowing they were hungry, you couldn't help but open the last can of tuna you had in your pantry, draining it of its liquid before setting it out for the mother and son cats to eat. His mother trusted you enough to leave her son with you before leaving, never to be seen again. You often wondered what happened to the little minx of a feline, though you were happy to assure her you could take care of her baby.

"Okay, Felix. I'm going into town. Don't miss me too bad while I'm gone, okay?" You chuckle a little watching him as he stretches out, adjusting your jacket in the process. With keys in hand, wallet in your warm coat, and a fully charged phone, you left your home. Your next-door neighbor was only five miles away, as was his other neighbor. The only thing you had to worry about here were bears, mountain lions, and wolves showing up unannounced during meal times. Thankfully the only time you spotted any of the three was during their migration journeys at quite the distance from your porch to the open land headed out toward the lake where they could get their fill of fresh fish and other small creatures that dwelled there.

You kept your distance, you respected their space, and in turn, they stayed away from you. Just how it should have been.

Hoping into your truck, an old one of your father's, you kick it into gear and leave your driveway. The roads were bumpy as the broken rock and dirt shifted under the weight of the truck, bouncing you a little as you made the drive into town. There were a few things you needed to make it through the week: gasoline, and a refill of your water containers. One was used for cooking and drinking, one was used for bathing, and the third was the backup. Being out in these parts, you had to prepare for the unthinkable. Trees block major routes to give supplies, unpredictable weather, and supply shortages.

Another thing you would have liked to get was a fresh cut of meat for dinner. Depending on what was at the store would determine the dinner in store for you. Grilled fish? sounded nice. A steak could have been as equally nice to eat.

Though, there was another reason for your outing today. Since Mr. Kirkwood had sold his farm, you had been out of a job and had been running low on funds. You had to find a job today, any job. Anything that would provide you cash for hard work to continue to provide for yourself and Felix. Stocking shelves at the only grocery store in town? Perfect! Cutting down trees for the logging company? You're the girl for the job, nevermind you have never cut a vertical tree before, only when they were already grounded.

You just needed any job, one that you can continue to live your life.

--

Parking the truck, you walked to the bed, picking up the water containers, two in one hand and the third in the other. Thankfully there had been a man coming out of the store, seeing your hands full he held it open for you. You thanked him, recognizing him as one of your father's old co-workers. You nodded to each other, letting him go back to his day as you entered the door.

"There she is, I was wondering when you would be coming back. I hadn't seen you in a few days," came the beckoning voice of the store's owner, Mr. Morgan. He was almost like an uncle to all of the younger people in town, being about thirty-five and younger. You were toward the older end of his infinite nieces and nephews, though he would swear you were his favorite.

"I was able to get an extra day or two in on my stock. I call that quite the accomplishment."

"Did you make it last longer, or did you go without longer than usual?" He questioned you, peering over his glass at you as you set the water containers down. He knew what your current situation was, but at the end of the day, he still had a business to run. "I can't do anything for you today until you pay your tab." He was serious, but he had a little glint in his eye as if letting a loved one down.

You looked at him, your once welcoming face now placid. "Mr. Morgan, please. You know I'm good for the money." you fished around in your jacket, pulling out the last thirty-seven dollars and change you had. You knew it wouldn't cover your tab plus what you needed, but you also knew he had a business to run. "I just need a little more time. And some supplies. Please."

It was a plea, a simple one. Though you knew he was the holder behind how the rest of your week was going to go. "I'll stock shelves for you to pay the rest of my tab. I'll scrub the floors with a toothbrush. I'm willing to work."

He took his glasses off, looking at the cash in front of him. He didn't want to see anybody struggling, but he couldn't ignore his debts. He shuffled the money around, taking thirty dollars for himself and handing you the seven dollars and change back. "I can't afford to add anybody else to my payroll, or else I would. You can have one water refill, a full tank of gas, and some cat food. Nothing more."

You stared at him, lips parted as if to protest the money exchange, but the sound of the bells chiming against the door flooded those thoughts. You reached for the cash, scooping the change into your hand. All you could muster was a simple "Thank you." Moving the water containers to the side, you placed two of the containers into the designated area, then took one to the refill station, and filled the water container.

You had to figure something out and fast.

--

A newly filled water container was placed in the truck bed, a full tank of gas in your truck, and a sack of wet and dry cat food sat on the passenger floorboard. Looking around the small main street of the town where ninety percent of the town's businesses resided, you decided to leave your truck where it was. You were on the hunt for a job, and you were damn determined to find employment by the end of the day.

You used your side view mirror to make sure your hair looked fine, adjusting the collar of your jacket and shirt, you straightened up peering back at the main street. The best way to start job hunting was to start at the end of the street and work your way back down, entering every business you spotted. The good thing about small towns was all you needed was to name-drop a couple of people, resumes didn't hold up well.

The bad thing about small towns was that everybody needed work. Store owner after store owner denied your requests. The pawn shop wasn't looking for new employees, the liquor store had too many employees as is, and the antiquities store only hired their family members. The options were dwindling down, and soon you were nervous you were going to have to find a creative way to make money or even worse, entertain the thought of being a lot lizard.

The only two businesses left were the diner on the right side of the street and the motel at the end of the road. Either of them could have positions open, yet they could also deny you a job opening. You had to hope they had an opening somewhere, knowing you were not creative enough to make and sell items for cash. You didn't own many items to sell, beyond the couch, a cot you used to sleep on, and the few little trinkets you received when her father died. The most expensive item you owned was more than likely the truck, and selling it would mean nearly desertion at your home.

Without another thought, you crossed the street as a logging truck passed in front of you. You made some eye contact with the driver, making sure you waited until he drove in front of you before crossing the street.

As you pushed open the doors of the diner, a woman ten years your senior greeted you. "Have a seat wherever you want, sweetheart."

You crossed the room, taking a seat in front of her as she cleaned the counter space. "I know you are busy, and I don't want to take up too much of your time. I'm looking for a job. Mr. Morgan told me you might have something open here?"

The woman looked up from her work, eyeing you down after you mentioned Mr. Morgan. Her ginger curly hair cascaded down her shoulders as she shifted her weight. "Mr. Morgan, huh?" It was hard to tell by her expression, but she seemed to be thinking about something.

The door opened again, and a young blonde woman entered appearing slightly disheveled as if she had just woken up. "I'm here, Rebecca."

The woman in front of you, Rebecca as you read the name tag, turned her body toward the younger woman, then looked to the clock. She placed one hand on her hip. "Only two hours late." She looked between you and the woman, a mischievous look in her eyes. "I told you, show up on time or don't show up at all."

The blonde woman huffed a little, crossing her arms. "It's not like anybody else wants this job."

Rebecca smirked, walking around the counter toward the woman. "Actually she does." She was quick to snatch the apron from the blonde woman. "Clean your uniform and have it dropped by the end of the week, then you will get your check." She then tossed the apron to you, catching it effortlessly.

The blonde huffed, storming out of the diner and throwing a couple of curses in the air. "Your shift starts now. Take a menu, and study it between customers. Orders go to Big Ben. Don't ask us why we call him that and don't make any eye contact. Burgers are made to order, the soup of the day is Italian wedding, and you can give me your jacket."

Her orders came quickly as you stood up, removing your jacket and tying the apron around your waist. There had been a little notebook in the apron and a pen, thankfully saving your ass as you wrote down the notes she gave you. The doorbell rang again, the older woman looked at you with a questionable look. That was your cue, time to work. "Take a seat wherever you want." You nodded, taking a menu in your hands and walking up to your first-ever customer.

--

As his boots made contact with the ground below him, the man took a moment to adjust his shoulders, rolling them a couple of times as he stretched. He could have sworn the truck cabs were getting smaller and smaller, almost feeling his head touch the rooftop. At least he could rest comfortably during his lunch break. He had contemplated having a liquid diet for lunch paired with a cigar, but the smell of greasy burgers filled his nostrils. Tucking the keys of the truck in his vest pocket, Logan walked toward to diner.

He passed by an unruly blonde woman, muttering under her breath about being fired barely filling his ears. He persisted in, entering the diner. Not looking up, he heard the greeting offered to him, hearing two different footsteps filling the diner. One was the small heels clicking against the tile floors. The other was boots muffled against the tile. A small pair of hands moved to set a menu down in front of him, along with what looked like one single-ply napkin and a fork. "What can I get started for you?"

Logan still hadn't looked up yet, looking at the laminated two-sided menu in front of him. "Coffee." He blurted, though wishing he could have an iced beer with his food. The woman left his table, rounding the counter and finding the coffee pot and cups. A minute may have passed by as he scanned the menu. He wasn't that much of a picky eater, as long as it used to have a heartbeat, he was fine.

The mug was set down in front of him, steam rolling off the black liquid. "I'll have the cheeseburger and fries." He picked up the menu, handing it back to the waitress. That was when he finally turned to look at her, remembering her as the woman who crossed the street behind him. She didn't seem to be dressed for work, not like the other woman who was behind the counter now fiddling with some dishes.

"You got it." She left the table, and walked over to the window, setting a ticket in the designated space that the other woman told her about. His hand wrapped around the mug in front of him, looking outside as he silently observed the town. He was in this stretch of land only long enough to get him enough cash to figure out his next move. He didn't like to stay in the same place too long, maybe a year or two at most. He didn't mind the small circles running in this part of the state, but he knew that if he wanted to go somewhere else he would have to figure it out soon before the snow moved in.

What felt like ten minutes had passed before the woman came back, setting his plate in front of him. "Can I get you anything else?"

He shook his head, brushing her off. As she left, she could smell a strong scent of pine around her, as if she herself was a pine tree. It wasn't a disheartening smell, something he actually liked.

Another set of diners came in, sitting a few booths behind Logan. As he ate his food all he could hear was her voice, despite there being a total of seven beings in the diner he could hear. Somehow her voice was the loudest in his mind. Not the heartbeats of the seven people, not his heartbeat, not her heartbeat. Her voice.

As he finished the food in front of him, she walked over to him, leaving his ticket and grabbing the empty plate. "Do you want a cup for the road?"

He reached into his vest pocket, pulling out a billfold. "Yeah, sounds good."

She returned with his to-go coffee, handing it over to him as he left cash on the table, adjusting his shirt collar. "Here, let me get your change."

"Keep it." He walked out of the diner, making a bee-line for his truck, fighting everything in him to talk to her again. Little did he know, that wasn't going to be their only interaction for the day.

--

The daylight began to dissipate, street lights were turning on and the neon signs from the only bar in town began to glow. Rebecca presented to you with a powder blue uniform dress. The diner and the employees looked as if they hadn't left the fifties, just as the regular customers liked to relive. "You did good, peanut. The job is yours. Your next shift is tomorrow, Nine to five, be here no less than ten minutes before clocking in tomorrow. I'll have some shoes for you. Can't have my girls in boots for service."

You took the uniform and hanger, nodding. "Yes ma'am."

Rebecca giggled a little. "Oh darlin', I'm no ma'am. You can call me Becky."

Parting ways with your new manager, you left the diner, uniform in hand and some tips in your apron. You couldn't help but think about the first customer you had that day, a man appearing around your age, how quick your interactions were, but how he almost seemed disinterested in interacting with you. Was it possible he was a regular of the blonde woman? He paid his bill, he tipped you, and you went on about your day. That was all you could ask for.

Returning to your truck still parked in front of the grocery store, you set your items down in the cab. Peering to the bed of the truck, you huff as you realize your water container is missing. At least the thief had the balls to leave your empty gas container. Mr. Morgan's place was closed for the night, so you would have to swing by the store after work. "Cowards." you hum to yourself, getting in the truck and turning over the engine.

Returning home, you fed Felix with the food you acquired today. Becky made sure you had something to eat as well before you left the diner, though Big Ben had made a comment about it. This only solved three of your problems for the day. You still needed to wash up, and without the water container, you only had one choice.

The easiest thing would be to take a bucket to the lake and boil the water before using it to wash up. Not thinking clearly either, you left the house without any type of protection, knowing you were just getting water and heading back to the house. The only light you had to help you was the half-moon above you.

Unknown to you, the man from the diner had followed you home, wondering what you were up to. He wished he could understand what was happening, but your voice was all he could hear and focus on the rest of the day. His truck was parked in the woods opposite your home, and he stood in the tree line listening to the orchestra of insects and animals around the both of you. Foxes howled in the far distance, deer were settling in for the night. But there was another predator within the vicinity, one unbeknownst to you.

You kneeled down to fill the metal bucket with water, you were being watched by a wolverine and a black bear. A bear looking for its next meal, and a wolverine searching for answers, only to find more problems in his way.

The grunt of the bear finally caught your attention. It had been nearly twenty feet in front of you, standing on a rock as it discarded the fish carcass in its claws. He smelled bigger game, and his blood lust was all he could focus on.

Leaving the bucket still in the water, you slowly stood up, keeping your hands to your sides. It stayed on its rock, turning toward you. It must have been fully grown, which spelled danger for you. Black bears did not care and would defend themselves to the death, even if it was not threatened.

Seconds felt like minutes as the bear finally stood up, roaring before falling to all fours and darting toward you. There was no way you could outrun a bear, let alone rely on your home to defend you. Laying down now meant instant death for you. Climbing trees was out of the question.

Your heart pounded in your chest with every footfall, knowing the longer you thought about survival, the more your chances diminished.

The bear caught up to you, pinning you down and tossing you around. Your screams filled the space of the open field around you. Claws tore into your skin and clothes as you felt warm blood escape your body.

Snikt

The bear roared out, turning its attention away from you to something else, attacking it. The sounds of two animals tousling with each other filled the air, but after one minute, the bear grew quiet, a distinct thud was heard as its body fell to the ground.

Something rushed up to you, and before you could react, you felt human hands touching your body. "No, no, no."

You looked up to see the man from the diner hovering over you as his knees collided with the ground next to you. His face was bleeding, but as you watched him, you saw his wounds close and heal within seconds. Almost just like...

He observed you, looking at where your wounds were.

Or used to be.

You sat up, scooting away from him a little. Breathing heavily, the both of, you looked at his tattered clothes and blood stains. yet there was an absence of wounds. "What are you?" You asked hurriedly.

He stared at you, his eyes dancing the same tango where your wounds used to be. "I could ask you the same." He ran a hand over his hair before standing up. He offered you a hand, however you didn't take it. Brushing yourself off from the dirt.

"Nothing happened here, okay?"

Logan turned toward you as he watched you walk back to the lake, picking up the bucket of water.

You realized what you said sounded harsh, and that wasn't your nature. Closing your eyes briefly, you look back at the man. "I have some clothes in my house. I can at least give you something to replace those."

He watched you begin walking toward the cabin you called home. Taking a moment, he decided to follow in your footsteps, quickly matching your pace to walk with you. "I saw you get attacked by that bear. I can see the blood." His eyes scan over your back, where layers of clothes are torn. Not just your jacket, but your shirt, and an undershirt.

You swung open the door of your cabin after walking up the little set of stairs on your porch. "Not to sound like a broken record, but, I can ask you the same."

After both of you were in the cabin, you set the bucket down next to the woodfire stove, pulled some of the water into a pot, then set it on the surface of the stove to boil the water. You then opened up a door, the only closet space in your cabin. There was a box labeled Dad's clothes written in neat handwriting. You pushed it out to the side, then grabbed two jackets. "Here, pick out what you want."

He looked at you, unsure of the idea. There was more to ask now, and he wasn't so sure where to start. He watched as you moved around in the cabin, picking up a little bowl and scooping its contents into a bowl. He could smell the cat, but not see it. He looked around, wondering where it was.

You observed his behavior, wondering what he was doing. Clearing your throat, you took a stab in the dark. "His name is Felix. He doesn't like strangers. If I had to guess, he is on my bed, or under it."

He smirked a little, knowing his suspicion had been confirmed. He approached the box, opening it to look at the different shirts and pants inside.

You observed him, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the wall. "Why are you out here?" You were thankful he showed up when he did, knowing you didn't have many defenses against the bear beyond how you healed.

Instead of giving a bullshit answer or response, he turned to look at you, a gray flannel in hand. "I was just passing through." He lied.

You shook your head, eyeing him as you lowered an eyebrow. "No, you didn't. Nobody passes through this place." Sighing a little, you felt a tug in your back. "Look, I've had a somewhat normal life here, have my entire life. I don't really have anything else to go to, or the drive to go anywhere else. I'll tell you what I can do, and I can answer any questions you have. Then we can part our separate ways. Sound like a deal?"

Logan stood up, tossing the flannel over his shoulder. He held his hands up to his sides, shrugging his shoulders. "I won't complain." He didn't know where this would lead him, but the thought of getting some answers meant his trip wouldn't be wasted.

Nodding, you rolled the sleeve of your torn jacket up, exposing the lower part of your arm to him. you pulled one of the logs out of the stove, holding the unburned end in your hand. The other side was on fire. You held your arm out in front of you, then pressed the fire to your skin, doing your best to stifle the groans from the injury. Pulling the log away, the third-degree burn healed almost instantly as tissue, muscles, and skin grew back together. After showing him the display of your power, you put the log back in the stove. "I was never sick as a child. injured that should have resulted in broken bones never bothered me."

Logan watched you burn yourself and then heal almost instantly. He hadn't met anyone before who had the same healing rate as he did. What were the odds of meeting another mutant out in the middle of nowhere Montana?

"Can I show you what I can do?" He asked, watching your every moment with precision. As he watched you nod, he moved his right hand to cross in front of him. Slowly, the sound of moving metal filled the air as three long knife-like appendages emerged between his knuckles. You stared in a mix of awe and confusion. He smirked, then sliced the pad of his left hand, showing you his own healing rate.

What caught him off guard was how you began to approach him, though it was a slow approach. On instinct, he retracted his claws, the spaces where they had once been healing up. "Does it hurt?" You ask him, rubbing your own knuckles where the blades would have been.

He didn't know how to feel, knowing that the two of you were just strangers passing in the night. "Every damn time." His voice was above a whisper, as if afraid the tone of his voice would break the sound barrier.

Silent moments passed between the two of you, tension filling the air. He couldn't stand it anymore as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "I should really get going," he spoke, stepping around you. Dazed little you finally felt you weren't the only one anymore.

You turned around to face him as he approached your door. "You know, I have a shift at the diner tomorrow. Maybe you'll happen to forget your lunch and have to stop by the diner?"

He should say no. He should be grabbing his things and heading out of town as quickly as possible. He should put this place in his rearview mirror and forget anything that happened there. But the drum of your heartbeat spoke bigger volumes than his brain did.

"We'll see." He nodded, thanking you silently with a gesture of the shirt before leaving your cabin, and walking toward his truck. He needed out of there as quickly as possible. Another moment with you could have sent him into a coma. How beautiful you smelled, how kind you were. Even though you were quick to block him earlier and run away, you still let him into your home and offered him a simple reward for saving your life.

It was almost too intoxicating to think about. And the promise of tomorrow could never come any sooner.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi!!!!! I just got into good omens and this hyperfixation is going ABSOLUTELY BONKERS. Ive been reading so many fics from yall thank u ❤️❤️ i was wondering if u could req some lesbian/wlw aziraphale ? :P

Hello! You can check out our #ineffable wives tag for fics already recommended. Here are some more to add...

wanna witness your eyes looking by izzyhandsgf (E)

"How could someone so unbearably holy commit such sins in the most beautiful way?" ----------------------------- Or, Aziraphale and Crowley meet in the 1930s, fem-presenting, and both are slightly overcome by their feelings for one another...

I stretch out the time (and now I know why) by Nix_Nihili (T)

I should pull back, Crowley thought. She should pull back because she was the one with the fork in her mouth that Aziraphale was holding. Aziraphale wouldn’t pull back because that would be rude so Crowley had to pull back. Pull back. Crowley swallowed the cake down and pushed herself away because that was what she did. Push and pull. Six thousand years of pushing and pulling. God, did it ever end? - Crowley finds Aziraphale on a fateful night for the first time since 1941. They haven't seen each other since but something has changed in the past two decades. or Something definitely happened between 1941 and 1967 to warrant the "You go too fast for me, Crowley" comment.

“I thought that I was getting better.” | Setbacks by die_traumerei (T)

Aziraphale is already having a rough time of it, when her new neighbour Crowley's cats trip her up and the inevitable happens. She and Crowley becomes friends, though, and more than friends -- and a good thing too, as Aziraphale faces one setback after another.

Herefordshire Pomona by Eigon (T)

I was reading Bleating Hearts by HKBlack (which is excellent, btw) and also thinking about the advice to "write what you know", so I started daydreaming about how the goat farmer meets literature professor scenario would transfer to Herefordshire. Aziraphale was easy - a bookseller in Hay-on-Wye, the Town of Books. I've put her shop where Green Ink Books is now, which used to be a multi-level shop, with a flat above. Crowley - well, that became obvious pretty quickly, too - instead of goats, apples. Herefordshire has a lot of old orchards, and I used to know a lady from the Marcher Apple Network, which identifies old apple varieties, and works to preserve them. And I wanted it to be Ineffable Wives, because I had so much fun writing the Old West story Secret Friendship (which is a boring name, but I couldn't think up a better one).

strange workings of fate by skyflyerr (E)

Aziraphale sat down gently and let her feet that didn’t quite touch the floor dangle from the stool. “Would you spare enough time for one glass with me?” Aziraphale watched her turn and look a little taken aback at the notion of her being here. Maybe this was a bad idea. “With you, darling? I can make the time. I’m a woman of my word, if anything.” *** Crowley is a bartender and Aziraphale is still figuring out the bookshop. Both are utterly lonely and winter is coming quick. Maybe they could keep each other warm.

Dance Me to the End of Love by Black_Bentley (E)

In general, Crowley would very much like to see the ones who hurt her grovelling at her feet, experiencing her pain and fear. But Lucifer’s plan is... well, it far surpasses what she considers ‘getting a revenge’ falling wildly into wreaking complete havoc and destroying innocent lives as collateral damage. Most importantly, that puts her dearest friend in danger. And she is to bring the proverbial cuckoo into the Celestial nest. OR: Aziraphale is a ballet dancer for the British Celestial Ballet Company, which grooms its perfect 'angels' from childhood Crowley used to dance for them too, but after they literally kicked her out, she took on pole-dancing for the Nine Circles of Hell Nightclub Its owner, who used to be the Celestial Ballet's star, is ready to take his revenge on the company's Director (referred to by its 'angels' as Mother) and chooses Crowley to enact it by forcing her to deal a brand new drug among the ballet dancers.

- Mod D

[candiedapplez]

I ask you all of the questions from that one reblog. Good luck/nf/j

Omg ok this will be a while then tehehehehehehhe im not complaining though!!!! Heres the questions so u can look at the questions and the answers!

1.this one is OBVIOUS!!! A-90 and Opheebop!!! DUUUUUUUH!

2.lighter. Ive never used a match before

3.ew no!!! I don't want buggies crawling in my room while im sleeping!!!! However i have before!

4. Aaaaaa ive never really gotten into that stuff so i cant really give an answer-

5. A really dark brown!!

6. Oops i did that again???

7. Well idk ive used both and they are both work really well! however i do think scrunchies are safer for your hair, i use normal hair ties more often because scrunchies are more bulky and yeah i dont prefer that, but both are great!

8. Six. I have six.

9.NONE! COFFE IS GROSS BLEEEEEEGH!!

10. Ofc!!

11. Does drawing count?

12. Good day!!!!! I havent cried yet so-

13. Not too long ago, like an hour ago actually. I had pizza! (Incase u were wondering)

14. HELL YEAH!!!

15. Nope and i never want to be 😗

16. NoooooOoOoO-

17. Nope i have perfect vision muah

18. I DONT WANNA SAY TEHE! (Sry)

19. Yea ofc!!! But they probably wont turn out good…

20. Soda…. Ive never seen or heard anyone say pop before….

21. Plushies!!!! I have a unicorn plush my old friend (we dont talk anymore since she moved) gave me for my 7th bday!!!! Yes i remember when, yes i still have it! And its in perferct condition!!! Also there was this one kid who ig had a crush on my and he gave me a basket full of stuff for valentines day and i still have said basket-

22. I have no clue what this means? I guess sensitive?

23. Love it!!!!!

24. Eating :] (and joking abt pushing each other off probably/JOKE/JOKE/JOKE/JOKE)

25. Aaaa i use all of them but i use lotion most so ig lotion?

26. Idk what to say for this one aaaaaagh

27. Like 5 i think? Ive been getting better with my sleep time!!!!

28. Not anymore, our school last year said we could take them off, however i was SO insecure about my face (still am, but not as much as before) so i would wear it every single day. If i showed up to school without one people got surprised. I stopped wearing them this year, however.

29. Hot????

30. THE FUCKING WATER BOTTLES!!!!

31. Theres a lot, i dont wanna get into it 😵‍💫

32…… is that a thing? People have favorite towels??

33. Hm my school took us on a field trip to a high school so we can see animals if that counts… (i have pictures btw if u wanna see them! We saw pigs, sheep, cows and bunny! I didnt take pic of bunny tho 😢)

34. LITERALLY EVERY SIX THE MUSICAL SONG HOLY SHIT IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS (the only ones i might mess up on are aywd and idnyl bc aywd is long and i dont listen to idnyl often)

35. Pst!!

36. Only once! My username used to have a 0 between the words (Candied0applez) but i changed it bc it made it sound like i candied no apples… but i was originally going to be called caramelapplez but i thought candied sounded better heheh)

37. The friend i mentioned earlier i met first day of kindergarden, her name is Alana, and this other girl Maya i met before kinder! We met eachother at a park and when we walked home we found out we were neighbors so we instantly became besties! (We still are to this day but she lives 30 mins away so i dont see her often-(

38. All…?

39. Sometimes!

40. Ice cream!!!

41. Empty. Coffee is gross

42. Hahahah yt, roblox and occasionally twitter!

43. HAND IT OVER BITCH!

44. Myself/j fucking donald trump 🤮👈🖕

45. NO ☺️

46. Oh god i dont watch any 🫢

47. | v

this actually was to the other girl i mentioned earlier! Maya! I found baby pictures of us when we were in 2nd-3rd grade and i showed her today!!!

48. Never and i dont plan on ever!

49. Never tried

50. GO AHEAD I GET SO EXCITED WHEN IM TAGGED IN SOMETHING AAAAA!

omg that took forever!!! Gosh i dont mind though!!! These were fun questions! Aaaaaaaa i enjoyed that tyty!

[dumb-bich-energy]

I’m trying not to get upset that one of my best friends hasn’t rly made an effort to talk to me or hang out w me for three months by telling myself she’s rly busy but it still,,,,hurts

[x3kristax3]

Is this the end?

A/N: this has been highly asked for after my oneshots of the end. I have gone with MC POV and a little bit of Jakes. This story is unline any other I've seen written. I did base this off the song “Flower '' by Lauren Spencer Smith.

Chapter 1

After two long years of being with Jake and helping him get free things don’t feel right. We act like everything is okay but I feel like I’m making a fool out of myself lately. There have been a lot of fights and even with the distance. I just cant help but wonder what is going on. The last time I saw him was six months ago. He flew out and spent time with me while meeting my family and friends. Those two weeks everything was great until just before he had to head back. He got distant and pushed me away.

These last three months Ive been looking at apartments and setting up job interviews. I should of known when Jake didn't ask me about it that something was wrong.

I ended up flying out to Colsville to surprise him and I knocked on his apartment and a girl answered wearing on of Jake's tshirts.

“Hello” she says confused. 

“Sorry I must have the wrong apartment. My friend must of moved recently.” I say with my heart breaking knowing the truth.

I hear from behind the door Jake’s voice “your coffee is ready, love” as the girl shuts the door.

I stay stable and walk to the elevator. I wait for it to open and I heard someone come out of one of the apartments. I try not to look back, not wanting to see if it’s Jake. As the elevator door opens I feel someone grab my hand and spin me around and I see Jake. I lose it and break down looking into his blue eyes that don’t have that love I used to see looking back at me.

“MC please let’s talk” he says.

I can’t say anything as tears start streaming down my face. I manage to get out of his grip andI bolt into the elevator

 “You stay” I manage out between the tears as I make the door close. I fall to the floor and my phone goes off and I see it’s Jake. I toss it in my bag and it breaks my heart.

I knew this was coming, he became distant but I didn’t want to believe it. I walk out and get into the rental car and my phone keeps going off and it’s Jake.

I answer after the 10th call since I told him to stay “Jake I don’t want to hear it! You made a fool out of me!” I say hanging up without letting him say a word.

I pick up my phone and call Jessy. I know she moved to Paris after we managed to find Hannah but I know she comes to visit so I’m hoping that when I told her I was coming here that she was coming.

“Hey girl everything okay? I know you said you just got into Colville today” she says as she answers the phone.

“Jessy” I say , bawling my eyes out, unable to get out anything more.

“MC what is wrong do I need to get Dan on this chat?” she ask

“No Dan. He’s just going to tell me ‘I told you so’.... I came out here to surprise Jake and try and rekindle because we haven’t seen each other in 6 months and" I start having a panic attack.

“Calm down, I just landed coming to Duskwood as well. Send me your location and I'll  come get you in a cab and we can go get coffee.”

I send her my location “Jessy….. Its over between me and him and there is nothing to fix anymore. He cheated on me,"  I say crying again.

“I’ll be there right away. Once I get out of the cab I'll call you again, stay there please.” she says, concerned for me.

We hang up the phone and I lean my head back and close my eyes.

My mind wanders to these last six months. Where did we go wrong? What happened we were madly in love? I thought moving out here would make things better and we could live a normal life together.

I get startled by someone knocking on my window and I open my eyes and see Jake. He has a cup of coffee in his hand and I see the sadness in his eyes. My window is cracked so I don’t get too hot waiting for Jessy 

‘MC can we talk please, i brought you coffee,” he says trying to do that smile that melts my heart and he knows it.

“Jake, I need some time. I flew out here to try and fix things with you. Only to knock on your door and have another girl answer it.” I say turning on the car and shutting the window as I put the music on and the song “Flower '' by Lauren Spencer Smith plays and I just start bawling my eyes again.

Jake tries to open my door but it's locked and my phone goes off. 

“I’m in the parking garage, first floor, red BMW. Heads up he’s standing outside my driver door” I say as I answer wiping the tears away from my eyes.

“Oh he better leave before I lose it on him!” she yells into the phone and I can tell she’s angry.

All of a sudden, I see Jake get pushed back from the car by a female and I notice the red hair. I can’t help but laugh because that’s my best friend.

“Dan and I warned you what would happen Jake!” she angrily yells in his face. “You thought we were joking but I already told Dan what she told me! How the hell could you cheat on her when all she wanted was to be with you!?”

She goes to open the  back door and realizes it is locked. I undo it knowing he’s not going to try anything and I was wrong. As Jessy is putting her luggage in the backseat with mine, he opens the drivers door and crouched down so he’s at my level. I turn my head away from him in pure disgust of him.

“MC, please we need to talk about this” he says, starting to reach out but stops.

“Just leave her alone, she doesn’t want to even look at you, Jake” says Jessy as I climb into the passenger seat in the front seat, unable to drive at this moment and just wanting away from him.

“Jessica, just let her tell me this herself.” he says.

“I told you fucking stay! I walked away from you crying because it’s over. You hurt me Jake and I can’t keep doing this,'' I say looking into his eyes as I start crying again but so flustered with myself and him for not seeing the signs before this trip.

He stands up “fine but I eventually do want to talk to you about everything’ he says as he steps away from the car.

Jessy gets in the car and I get out. I look at Jessy, give me a few moments I need to say some things to him” i say walking around the front of the car and away from it and he follows me.

He leans against the wall and reaches for my hand but I cross my arms. “I need to say something and then I’m walking away before I say or do something I regret right now” I say with tears still in my eyes.

“Okay, I understand.” he says and I see the hurt in his eyes.

“I helped you become a free man from running.” as tears run down my face.  “You took me over to your house to meet your family, even your MOM! You introduce me to them, saying that you’d marry me. Then you looked me in the eyes after we left and say ‘It was just a joke’. You kiss me and I’d smile, did you even know? When you’d say that kind of thing, I’d be excited. You got me hoping one day you would mean it.” as i feel my heart rate increase. “I always thought I’d only make a fool of someone else. Now you have only gone and made me make one of myself. We’d fight and you'd send flowers but i guess they aren’t just used for big apologies.” my hands start to shake. “I guess I should’ve been more conscious of how you spoke to me, trying to control me. When we would fight you’d give me space and not communicate and for a while I thought that’s what i should appreciate.” Blaming myself for not seeing this sooner. “Maybe I was holding onto what I thought you were, but when you think too hard, eventually it starts to hurt. The version of you in my head, now I know it wasn’t true. Young people fall for the wrong people, I guess my one was you.” as I say this I walk away. 

"MC, I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you." He says but I act like I didn't hear him.

Not giving Jake a chance to say anything as I get back in the car and Jessy pulls out and I see him in the side mirror standing there watching the car leave.

Jakes POV:

I watch them leave and I see MC’s face in the side mirror and my heart breaks. Once they are out of sight I punch the brick wall behind me as I see the girl from last night come walking out to the elevator.

“I won’t be coming back” she says as she walks past me. I don’t say anything to her because she already figured out it was more than what MC mentioned.

I head back into my apartment and pull out my phone. I open the messages but knowing she’s not going to check them right now and I can’t blame her.

Jake: MC, I’m sorry for everything. You deserve better than this. I know for the last year I haven’t been the best and you kept trying to fix things between us and I just pushed you away. Please just know you will always hold a space in my heart and I did fall in love with you and I hate that I broke you like this.

I hit send, unsure if she even blocked me until it shows she’s online. I see her typing and then nothing and she goes offline again.

“I will always love you, MC” I say to myself as I throw the coffee cup I still have across the apartment.

[wavesmp3]

[ksw] clouds

sunwoo x reader

wc. 5k warnings: medical inaccuracies, death, illness, hospitals, overall just a pretty heavy piece genre can only be described as an absolute mess inspired mainly by san junipero but also slightly by charlie kaufman and wong kar wai

a/n: this is supposed to be told nonlinearly but like the creation of it was very messy so i have no clue if it actually worked, so good luck trying to make this piece make sense of this :) 

act iii. scene iii.

Sunwoo sits and watches the sun shift from pink and blue to an impossible shade of green. And it’s then he knows that without a doubt Clara has ruined the color green for him. Because instead of marveling at the color of the sky, Sunwoo is reminded of the doors in her apartment building.

“Thought I might find you here.” The voice of a stranger who Sunwoo loved once upon a time says behind him. He tries like hell not to turn around. Not to lean back towards the voice and wait for your hand on his shoulder or your shin knocking familiarly against his back. He focuses on the waves crashing below instead. The roar of the water beneath him is deafening, but only if you let it be. He does, and he almost forgets that you’re behind him.

“Where’d you go?” You ask, now sitting next to him, tugging at the long grass. 

“I’m right here.”

“And what about in there?” You bring a finger up and poke at the side of his forehead. 

He turns to you, facing you in full. He takes in your features like it’s the first time all over again. And, oh, he wishes he knew before how many firsts you already had together. This is just another. This is just the first time he’s seen you in the past six months and remembered the thousands of times he’s seen your face before. 

He studied your cheeks. The one he now recalls running the back of his palm over after you left for the Cloud. 

He memorizes, for the millionth time, your eyes. He used to swear they were darker than they are, but then he saw them in the sun. He was dying back then; then he saw your eyes and you saved him. Just like that. 

Mr. Choi was right of course. As he always must be. You and him are like an old married couple. Not like. You are. Almost were. 

“I had lunch with Mr. Choi today.” He tells you. 

You squint at him. “I know. It’s Thursday.” You pull out a piece of the grass. “What’d he make?”

“Ramen.”

“Was it good?”

“It was okay.”

“Too spicy?”

Suwnoo answers with a sigh, looking away from you and back towards the water. The deafening waves crash against the cliffside. “I know you looked at your file.” He finally says. You stop pulling at the grass. You still. “Mr. Choi told me.”

After he says it, there’s a silence that isn’t actually silent at all. The waves rage below his feet. The seagulls are there too, beneath, above, somewhere, everywhere. And then, of course, there’s you and Sunwoo, trying to be silent over the static in your heads and the machines you’re hooked up to in a universe far far away. 

“Did he tell you about my file?”

He looks at you again. “No.”

“Oh.” You look away, brows furrowed, lick your lips, and then turn back to him. “So why are you upset?”

“After he told me, I went and I…”

“You didn’t.”

“I looked at mine.”

There’s another silence, except that this time it really is quiet. Sunwoo read once whilst in a rabbit hole of medical research that true silence only happens in a vacuum, where there is no medium for sound waves to travel through. This must be that. This place, the files, Mr. Choi and Mr. Chan, Clara and her apartment building full of green doors--it’s a vacuum. And they stick people in it then call it the Cloud. They call it extra time. But it isn’t. It’s nothing and he’s stuck in the middle of it. So Sunwo stares at you, straight through the vacuum of time and space you’re both lost in, waits for you to say something, and then waits for himself to hear it. 

“You looked?” You finally say, voice folding in on itself. 

“Yes.” Sunwoo’s own voice is barely there. You must be reading his lips which you’ve always been good at anyways. 

“So you know now?” 

“I always knew, and now, I remember.”

act i. scene iv.

There’s been an accident. 

That’s what they say when the sun falls out of the sky and the world starts spinning in the wrong direction. It’s how they show up at Sunwoo’s door painted in shades of blue and red, with authority in their arms and hands on their hips. How they prepare him for the looming moment where they rip past his skin, blood, bone to shoot a gun straight at his heart. I’m so sorry for your loss, they say leaving him with a bullet lodged somewhere between his left and right atrium. 

And those are the four words that play over and over and over in Sunwoo’s head as he gets to the hospital. Those are the words that crawl inside his open chest and turn him blue and black with infection. There’s been an accident, he remembers, staring at the extraordinary measures taken to keep your heart beating and lungs beating. This is it. Except that the accident isn’t that you’re dying, but that you’re dying. It’s always supposed to have been him. He’s supposed to be the one stuffed with tubes and hooked up to monitors, the one whose life is hanging on by a thread, and you’re supposed to be the one that saves him. It all feels like a play that’s gone horribly wrong because everyone switched parts after intermission without telling him. At what point did you steal the role of dying protagonist from him? 

We did everything we could, a stranger in a white coat says. Except that it’s not some stranger, it’s your colleague and co-worker because this is the hospital you work at and the hospital Sunwoo met you in. There was too much damage to the brain, they explain as the image of their tear-stricken face goes from your friend during intern year to the doctor who operated on you as your brain went dead. 

“We have two options, right?” Sunwoo is far too familiar with surgery and all this. He knows from his hospital days what’s supposed to happen next. But apparently, things have changed since then. 

“Actually, there’s a third option.”

Sunwoo doesn’t waste a second. He jumps out of the chair stained red from his bleeding heart and asks: “What is it?”

“We can upload them.”

act iii. scene ii.

In fifty days of living in the cloud, Sunwoo has learned all about the people that he shares a building with. There’s Mr. Chan who lives behind a vomit green on the same floor as him and who hasn’t left his room since last January. There’s also Mr. Choi, who lives behind the emerald door and invites Suwoo over for lunch every Thursday. Clara lives upstairs, where the walls are painted in various shades of green--olive, seaweed, moss, hunter, shamrock, sage, and others that Sunwoo tries not to think too deeply about. He’s only met Clara once in the past fifty days and has no particular wish to see her again. He hadn’t expected her to be a kid. Cancer, you told him after their introduction in the lobby, poor girl was only seven. As said before, Sunwoo tries not to think about it. 

And then of course there’s you behind the forest green door who has been slowly showing him all the good places. There’s the beach where you spent the day making seashell necklaces. The  cafe which serves its tea too sweet for him, but sweet enough to be considered your favorite. Sunwoo just gets the chocolate bread. You took him downtown. To a club. The tallest building. And to midtown where the amusement park is. 

But his favorite place you’ve taken him so far is the cliffside above the beach, where the waves crash against the rocks in a way that can only be described as violent. That day you and him laid in the grass and stared at the clouds with your heads dangling just over the edge and water spraying the backs of your necks. That day you turned to him and told him you’re sorry. For what, he asked. I’m so sorry you’re sick, you said, but it’s nice to have you around here. I think in a sense, we’ve both been waiting for this. Then, you smiled and stole all of the blood from his body. So yeah, that day, that place--it’s his favorite. 

Today, you take him on a hike up a mountain. 

“Do you believe in an afterlife?” You ask him after having spent thirty minutes silently staring at the view from the best peak. 

“One after this?”

“Yeah. I guess. Although, I’m not so convinced this counts.”

“I don’t know.” Sunwoo shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Do you think we’d be able to be with our loved ones in it?”

His chest lurches. “If there is one, yes.”

“Do you think it’ll be different than this?”

Sunwoo turns to you finally. “Why are you asking about this?”

You shake your head. “Nevermind. It’s a stupid question.”

He turns back towards the view. From here, he can make out Clara’s building. He thinks about her, about Mr. Choi and Mr. Chan, who he recently found out were once married but who haven’t spoken since Mr. Chan read his file in January, and he thinks about you and about him. 

“I think,” Sunwoo says, loud enough so that you can hear after wandering a little bit away from him, “that whatever the afterlife is, if it does exist, it’ll be worth it.”

You turn to him, but don’t make any move to come near him again. “And if it doesn’t exist?”

“Then life will have been worth it.”

The corner of your lip lifts. “I like that.”

Sunwoo only nods at the sentiment, and after a long while, he builds enough courage to ask, “you’ve been here a really long time, haven’t you?”

“Time doesn't work as linearly in the cloud as it does in the real world. Sometimes it feels like I got here and then you arrived the very next day.” You turn back towards the view and exhale heavily. 

“But yes. I’ve been here for an eternity.”

act ii. scene i.

Before he actually sees you, Sunwoo feels you. Not you, in particular, but something in the distance, a presence in the corner of the room and a pair of eyes watching him from somewhere far away. 

The scariest part is how much the feeling doesn’t actually scare him. 

--

Two days after that, he starts to see you in the flesh. He tells himself that his mind is playing tricks on him, that the person he saw in the produce aisle wasn’t actually you at all and was just a stranger with the same hair. 

He doesn’t go straight home from the store that day. Instead, he stops by the hospital and checks in on you, but even that doesn’t do anything about the fact that he sees a shadow of you behind the bed.

--

The day after that, you speak to him. Standing in the middle of his kitchen in broad daylight, you speak, you say hello, and the first thing Sunwoo thinks is that he’s dead. 

You aren’t, you reply. You’re a zombie, he reasons, here for my brain. I’m not. A ghost. No. Are you, here Sunwoo falters, fear flooding out of his body to make room for the briefest blotch of hope that’s crushed almost immediately by you saying: I’m not alive, Sunwoo. You saw me in the hospital yesterday. 

“So then,” he swallows, “what are you?”

I’m here. You look at him, stare at his face and without a sliver of doubt say, I’m here for you. 

Sunwoo knows it’s impossible. You can’t be here. You can’t. And yet, you are. 

Three years ago Sunwoo was told he had three months left to live, and he still remembers how impossibly you saved him from the brink of death. He remembers how impossible things happen all the time, and how impossibly possible it is that this is one of them. He steps towards you, touches your face, and feels the real, impossible thing against his hand. 

“You’re here.”

--

On the fifth day of your haunting, Sunwoo finally has the sense to ask why. 

Why what?

“Why are you here?”

I’m here for you.

“Stop saying that.”

But I am, you tell him. You asked, and that’s the answer. I’m a doctor, Sunwoo. I’m here for you. 

Then, finally, he hears what you’ve been saying for the past five days. You’re here for him. 

And the thing about doctors is that they’re there for you when you need them. 

“I’m sick.” 

Yes, you answer quietly, although it wasn’t a question. 

“Again.” 

I’m so sorry. 

“You’re a hallucination, aren’t you?” Sunwoo’s shocked by how sad that makes him, how disappointing it is. “I’ve been hallucinating.”

Find me in the Cloud, Sunwoo. There’s something I want to say. 

You’re gone by the time he gets to the hospital. 

act iii. scene i.

Sunwoo stares at the hall of green doors, eyes darting from door to door in an attempt to stare down the shades until they confess which one of them is tea green.

“Clara, the landlord, likes colors.” A voice says from behind him. “Every couple of months she repaints all of the doors in different shades of the same one. Before the green, it was yellow.” 

Sunwoo turns around to face you. When your eyes find him, they go blank for the smallest of moments. You give him a look that goes right through him, turning him inside out like you’ve seen the underside of his skin. It irks him. 

“I’m Sunwoo. I’m new.”

You gulp. “You’re here.” He doesn’t know what to make of the statement. Do all people in the cloud act like this? “Why?”

Sunwoo nods, maybe you’re not so weird as much as you just have a weird way of posing questions. “I was told I’m sick.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, frowning like you actually might feel back for him. 

“Have you been here a while then?” You nod. “Can I ask how long?” You shake your head. Sunwoo doesn’t think too much about it. Instead, he returns your earlier question “Why are you here?”

“Brain dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

You ignore it and point to a door down the hall. “I’m forest green. You?”

“Tea green. But I can’t find-” 

You tap the door in front of him. “This one, genius.”

“Oh.” He laughs awkwardly. “Thanks.”

Your mouth parts as if to say something, and your face goes blank again. He feels his skin turning itself inside out because of it. “Have you read your file yet?”

He shakes his head. “I just got here.”

You inhale, softening, and mutter an ‘okay’. You continue down the hall towards your door. Sunwoo is stuck in place. “I can show you around here, if you like. Take you to all the cool places.”

Sunwoo takes you up on it.

A forest green door slams shut down the hallway. 

act i. scene ii.

“Thank you for taking me out of the hospital.” Sunwoo says, exhaling. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a park like this.” 

And it’s true, he really can’t. He’s been sick for so long now, and has been through a multitude of treatment plans and too many surgeries. When you’re sick and have 9 surgeons turn you down after asking them to save your life, you forget the joy of being outside and feeling the sun on your skin. You were the first doctor to agree to the surgery. You’re the only doctor to have ever treated Sunwoo like he wasn’t dying, like he was actually going to live.

“You don’t have to thank me. This is good for me too.” You say, head resting against the park bench and eyes closed. 

Sunwoo inhales, taking in the park with all his senses. A visceral sort of thing you learn to do as often as possible when you’ve been as close to death as frequently as he has. He feels the wood beneath his body and the grass beneath his feet. He feels the light on his skin and the wind pushing against his arms and nose. He listens to the kids screaming at the playground at the bottom of the hill and to the dogs barking within the dog park beside it. He takes all this in, relishes in it for the last time as a dying person. 

You sigh. “One more surgery.” 

“And then I’ll be done with this sickness.” 

You smile. He pretends not to see. “And then you’ll be done.” 

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“Don’t do that.”

“No. Seriously.” 

You smile again, this time at him. Sunwoo doesn’t have to pretend not to see. “I haven’t finished saving it yet.”

He leans back against the bench and closes his eyes. “But you will.” 

You tap on your coffee cup. “Honestly though, you did more work than me.” Sunwoo frowns while you take a sip. “The other nine doctors you called are good doctors, and they made the same judgement call I would have made for any other patient. No sane doctor would have agreed to treat you. But you were the reason I said yes. You had such faith that you were going to live and so much faith that I could do it that I believed you. I might be the one doing the technical saving, but you, Sunwoo, you’re the one who convinced me to do it. You saved yourself.”

He stares at you. The light hits your eyes like it’s finding a way to break through them. In truth, before Sunwoo got sick, he didn’t think he was scared of death, but he is. He’s terrified of it. Sunwoo realized it two weeks after his diagnosis and the day after he was wrongly told he only had three more months left to live. But now, for the first time since he was diagnosed, he doesn't feel so afraid of it. Despite how far he’s come and how close he is to beating this fucking illness, while staring at the light woven through your eyes, Sunwoo thinks he could live with himself if he dropped dead tonight. 

That thought alone, is almost as terrifying as death used to be. 

act iii. scene v.

“I saw your ghost, you know.” It’s the first thing Sunwoo has said to you in over two weeks. “It wasn’t actually you though, was it?” You don’t even bother looking up from your cup of tea. Through the silence, Sunwoo orders a coffee. 

“I didn’t know that.” The coffee turns lukewarm. “It wasn’t me.” You push an uneaten half of chocolate bread towards him. “It’s in your brain this time. Symptoms can include hallucinations.”

“Think you can still save me?” You can’t. If you know that much, you know he’s out of medical miracles, and that this time, he really won’t survive it. But it’s a joke. And you laugh at it.

“Definitely not. I never really liked neurosurgery.”

And all at once, he’s painfully aware of your friend somewhere in the real world that does like it but watched anyways as your brain died before her, split wide open. 

“Anyways, how do you know all of this?” But what Sunwoo really wants to say is brains are killer. Literally. Figuratively. 

“I’ve known since we...“ you hesitate, mouth stuck halfway through a word he can’t place. “After last time, I read your chart and looked at your scans.” Sunwoo nods. He expected as much. He doesn’t ask how you got them. “I’m sorry you're sick again.” You say to him quietly. “I’m sorry you’re dying.”

“I’m sorry you’re dead.” As soon as the words have left his mouth, he regrets them. Because you aren’t. And he knows you too well to think you’d look past the technicality. 

You scoff, shake your head slightly, and with a spiteful smile say, “Can I say it?”

Sunwoo only sighs. “Let’s start over instead.” 

You nod. He pushes the chocolate bread back. 

act iii. scene iv.

Mr. Choi was the one to recommend that Sunwoo give you and himself space. It’s been a month since you and him last spoke, since that moment hovering above the waves after he read his file and after he found out you read yours. He misses you, and has been for so long now. Mr. Choi was wrong. Sunwoo’s standing outside your forest green door to prove it. 

You open the door before he can knock. There’s no shock in your voice when you say his name, like you’ve been waiting for this day, expecting it. 

He looks behind you, at your apartment in Clara’s building that looks just like your apartment in the real world. The same one he cleaned out after you died, still filled with things he gave to your family or donated or took back to his place. He wants to crumble just looking at it again. “Can I come in?”

“It’s only been a month.”

And he knows what you mean by it. Three months is the recommended time off after reading one’s file. To reacclimate, they say, to process. But the insinuation that Sunwoo was supposed to go three months without seeing you makes him feel sick. The insinuation that after a year of being without you in the real world he was supposed to be without you here too, enrages him. Then he remembers how long you’ve been here, and how long you’ve been doing this and feels slightly murderous.

All he says is: “It’s been a lot longer than that for you.”

Your lip twitches. You lock and unlock the open forest green door five times before saying, “Are you sure?”

He nods. You let him in. 

Sunwoo used to imagine what it would be like to meet you again in the Cloud one day. He imagined tears and hugs and kisses. He imagined i love you’s and i hate you’s and i miss you. He imagined the scenario more times than can possibly be considered healthy. But he imagined something. He was waiting for the day. Waiting for this day. But this moment, sitting at your round wood table while you boil water for tea, is nothing like the million different ways he imagined seeing you again. 

And as you set down two mismatched mugs and take the seat across from him, he doesn’t even try to create one of them. “How long has it been since you read your file?”

You watch the steam rise from your tea for a long moment, then stand, grab the sugar and pour a spoonful of it into your tea. You take another spoonful and look at him expectantly. “Want some?” He nods, and you pour the sugar into his. You stir the tea then taste, then cringe, then add more sugar and then ask if he wants it. He refuses. You stir again. Sunwoo watches the whirlpool and waits the eternity it takes you to say: “I read it on my first day.”  

You put the sugar away, satisfied with the tea’s sweetness while Sunwoo marvels at how long you’ve known and how silently you’ve been carrying the knowledge of you and him since he came. And that knowledge is what makes him finally remember one of the reasons he came. “Is there something you want to tell me?” You look up at him when he asks it, exhaling like you’ve been wanting to bring it up for so long now, which Sunwoo guesses isn’t as much of a simile as he thinks it is. 

“Yes, actually. I…” you hesitate, flicking the mug as if the right words will come hopping out of the tea. Sunwoo watches for it. “I’ve just been here for a long time now, Sunwoo.”

“Two years isn’t that long.”

“Time doesn’t work the same here as it does down there.” You tell him tiredly. “It’s been decades.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“In the beginning, I didn’t mind the waiting. I knew you were on your way, but I just,” you hesitate, “I didn’t think it’d take so long for you to come back to me.” 

Sunwoo covers your hand with his. “I’m sorry.” You twist your palm into it, squeeze, then pull your hand away. Sunwoo swallows. “I came as fast as I could.”

“I know. I waited.”

“Do you regret it?” Sunwoo’s terrified of what the answer might be.

You don’t give it. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“Then?”

“I’ve been here for so long, and,” your head drops, voice breaking under the weight it carries, “it’s been so lonely.”

“But I’m here now.” Sunwoo says, leaning forward against the table. “You aren’t alone anymore.”

“I know you’re here. I know, and I thought that would fix it, but it didn’t. Seeing you in the hall that day was so bittersweet, because you were here but that also meant you were somewhere else dying. Because you were here and I still felt lonely.” You stop, chugg the remaining bits of your tea, and then wipe your cheeks. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

“No.” But it’s a lie. He does get it. He knows all about loneliness and the way it creeps inside, so slyly. The way it starts small and then grows, feeding on negligence, until it's too big for your body. He knows how it sits inside you, for all its enormity, and spills into everything. He knows how it lingers. How it has nothing to do with people or lack of them and everything to do with grief. Sunwoo knows all about loneliness. The day he read his file he felt a dam of it burst open within him. 

“I’m saying that in the real world I saved you, and now it’s your turn to save me.” You gulp. “I’m saying that I want you to unplug me.”

It takes a moment for Sunwoo to even register what you’ve said, but when he does remember the life support that’s keeping your body alive somewhere in a universe far away, he doesn’t say anything. He just stands and walks out of your apartment. 

act i. scene iii.

“Doctor, please present.” The attending announces, stepping into Sunwoo’s room for rounds. 

“Mr. Kim,” a resident starts, flipping open his chart, “was diagnosed 14 months ago and has gone through several different treatment plans. When he came to us, the illness had spread and was deemed inoperable and untreatable by several other physicians. Our treatment plan was aggressive and grueling but ultimately, effective. Sunwoo is 20 days post op from his third and final surgery. The surgery went extremely well with no complications and his vitals were excellent. He has been a model patient all throughout recovery, and according to our latest scans, he is also now illness free…”

Sunwoo doesn’t even bother listening to the rest. 

--

“So, now that I’m no longer a patient, if I ask you out on a date, will you actually say yes?” 

“Well,” you say, signing his discharge papers, “only one way to know.”

“What is it?”

You look up at him, smiling. “Ask me again.”

He does. 

You say yes. 

act iii. scene v. take ii. 

“I saw your ghost.” The first thing Sunwoo says after the last failed attempt.

You look up from your tea. “It wasn’t me.” 

“I know.” Sunwoo orders another coffee. “But the hallucination was how I knew I was sick again. It made me feel like you were trying to warn me, like you were up here somewhere caring from a distance. Right after I pieced it all together you told me to find you here and that there was something you wanted to say.” The coffee turns lukewarm again. Sunwoo can’t bring himself to say it. You sigh and push the same piece of chocolate bread back towards him. This time, he takes a bite from it. And with a mouthful of chocolate bread, he cries, “I just got you back, and now you want to leave all over again.”

You frown. “I didn’t want to leave the first time, and it’s different now.”

“How?”

“I want to go. Isn’t that worth something?”

“And what about what I want?”

“Oh, Sunwoo,” you say, “I’m sorry you’re sick. The hallucination was you and your head, but for what it’s worth, I have been up here caring from a distance. I still…” you don’t need to say the words. He knows. He never had to doubt it. “I never stopped.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked of me.” Sunwoo tells you. He made the decision last week but today, right now, with your confession still falling through the air, is the first time he’s had the stomach to swallow it. “And I’ll do it. I will. I just need some time. You’ve had so long and in comparison I’ve had nothing.”

“Okay.” You say simply.

“How long can you give me?”

You smile. “You know I’d give you an eternity if you asked for it.”

“I’m scared.” Sunwoo confesses then. “I know it’s what you want, but selfishly, I don’t want to let you again. I don’t know if I’m a big enough person to do it.”

“I do.” You say to him, leaning forward against the table and looking straight through him. “I know because I was your doctor. I have cut inside your body, seen all your organs, and during surgery two, I held your heart in my hands. I felt it beating. So I know exactly how big it is, and I know it’s big enough for this”

Sunwoo feels the heart you worked so hard to repair bursting inside of him. 

“God. Why’d you have to read your file so soon?”

You laugh. “I missed you. I couldn’t help it.”

And just like that, you’ve stolen the entire concept of fear from him. 

“I’m ready.”

“What?”

He looks at you and feels the loneliness slither away.

“Ask me again.”

[une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir]

random thoughts about aegon vi and septa lemore

Apparently, it’s Aegon’s week. i don’t think i ever paticipated in these events for any character or pairing, but @agentrouka-blog​’s theory that septa Lemore is Ashara Dayne and that the baby switch was between Aegon and her rumoured child (instead of random kid) showed up on my dash today.

Lemore being Ashara Dayne and there having been baby switch like theorised would be fantastic, because she’d know a lot of stuff that is otherwise impossible to know. She knows who dishonoured her at Harrenhal (we all know Brandon, not Ned). She knows about Wylla, a wetnurse from the Dayne Household, who Eddard Stark and Edric Dayne both say is Jon’s mother (we all know Jon is Lyanna’s, so this apparent lie version being told by two different people who have nothing to do with one another seems to suggest a combined lie between Ned and the Daynes). She knows about Jon because Ned went to Starfall with him and (if baby switch theory is true), she can confirm Aegon VI is real.

There’s also the suspicious narrative choice of a “Targ” (not even, she has dark hair, not silver hair, even if she has purple eyes) getting with an impetuous Stark at Harrenhal and a secret child never really going anywhere. What’s the point of that besides shading Rhaegar plus Lyanna equals Jon? This I always thought was suspicious, but this theory would *poof* make it make sense.

TYRION III ~ ADWD

This is the chapter where Aegon VI Targaryen is first introduced. The whole chapter is like a “perigrination” to find him. I am of the opinion that Aegon VI is the real thing for a long time now and there’s evidence that might be the case in this very chapter where he’s introduced.

"How fares our lad?" asked Illyrio as the chests were being secured. Tyrion counted six, oaken chests with iron hasps. Duck shifted them easily enough, hoisting them on one shoulder.

This is shortly after the chapter starts. Not only Illyrio asks about Aegon, there’s also the imagery of six chests about. If Aegon is crowned king of Westeros, he’ll be Aegon VI Targaryen.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++

"There is a gift for the boy in one of the chests. Some candied ginger. He was always fond of it." Illyrio sounded oddly sad.

This is often used as a clue that Aegon VI is fake. Illyrio is expressing some sentimental attachment, so there are theories that he could be the father and the mother would be some Valyrian looking wife he has. it has its merits.

On the other hand, Aegon VI is on the run from the crown, hiding under a false identity and dyes his hair another colour, but most importantly in this passage, is Aegon’s fond of a specific sweet that what we would at first mistake for a father for the reasons pointed above gifts him with.

This is 1:1 what’s going on with Sansa, she’s on the run from the crown, hiding under a false identity and dyes her hair another colour, she’s fond of a specific sweet (lemoncakes) and Littlefinger, who’s pretending to be her father and is very... emotionally invested... in her, gifts her with some (well, in parternship with her cousin, but the cousin is another matter).

By parallel, Aegon is real.++

Tyrion craned his head to one side, and saw a boy standing on the roof of a low wooden building, waving a wide-brimmed straw hat. He was a lithe and well-made youth, with a lanky build and a shock of dark blue hair.

Aegon is inrroduced standing above the rest, literally high-standing.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++

An older couple with a Rhoynish cast to their features stood close beside the tiller, whilst a handsome septa in a soft white robe stepped through the cabin door and pushed a lock of dark brown hair from her eyes.

This is actually what I came for, Lemore.

Why a septa would be described as “handsome” when that should have no relevance since she’s supposed to be chaste (I know, it’s Tyrion, but still)? Ashara Dayne is described by many as being beautiful, arrestingly so. If Lemore is Ashara, “handsome” is a good way to describe her beauty still.

Lemore has dark brown hair. Ashara is described as having long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders. More importantly, Lemore's first actions is push her hair from her eyes. Like, pay attention to this woman’s eyes, even though they’re not described ever (not even their colour).

TYRION IV ~ ADWD

Tyrion had drunk himself blind his first night on the Shy Maid. The next day he awoke with dragons fighting in his skull.

So yes, the night after Tyrion meets Aegon and his party for the first time, he dreams of dragons fighting. Take note these are dragons, not a fake dragon in whatever way and a dragon.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++.

The clouds in the sky were aglow: pink and purple, maroon and gold, pearl and saffron. One looked like a dragon. Once a man has seen a dragon in flight, let him stay at home and tend his garden in content, someone had written once, for this wide world has no greater wonder. Tyrion scratched at his scar and tried to recall the author's name. Dragons had been much in his thoughts of late.

One of those clouds looks like a dragon. There’s no dragons with these colours BUT Targs have purple eyes and Viseryion, a dragon I believe is a narrative stand-in for Aegon VI, is described as cream and gold, so one colour here. Honestly, the important here is that Tyrion is associating dragons around Aegon.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++.

"Good morrow, Hugor." Septa Lemore had emerged in her white robes, cinched at the waist with a woven belt of seven colors. Her hair flowed loose about her shoulders. "How did you sleep?"

Holy shit.

“Even after all these years, Ser Barristan could still recall Ashara's smile, the sound of her laughter. He had only to close his eyes to see her, with her long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders and those haunting purple eyes.

"Fitfully, good lady. I dreamed of you again." A waking dream. He could not sleep, so he had eased a hand between his legs and imagined the septa atop him, breasts bouncing.

"A wicked dream, no doubt. You are a wicked man. Will you pray with me and ask forgiveness for your sins?"

Only if we pray in the fashion of the Summer Isles. "No, but do give the Maiden a long, sweet kiss for me."

Laughing, the septa walked to the prow of the boat. It was her custom to bathe in the river every morning.

"Plainly, this boat was not named for you," Tyrion called as she disrobed.

"The Mother and the Father made us in their image, Hugor. We should glory in our bodies, for they are the work of gods."

Yeah, it’s Tyrion, who’d sexualise a rock, but this is a septa who deserves respect. Yet, this is how the writer “paints” the reader’s first interaction with this new character. These are always the most striking moments when establishing a character and sex imagery is what the writer decided to do.

Also Lemore not only knows that Tyrion’s fantasising about having sex with her and doesn’t give a shit, she laughs instead, gets naked to bathe, and doesn’t give a shit if others look at her naked body. This doesn’t feel like a septa. I mean, I remember Mordane and the zealots at King’s Landing who screwed with Cersei. They have nothing on this.

The way she puts why she has no problems with naked bodies and the like also suggest some kind of “free spirit” which goes well with the (disgusting, but there) dornish wanton woman trope and being dishonoured by Brandon at Harrenhal.

Another thing to note, is that Tyrion also clearly says the “Shy Maid” wasn’t named after Lemore, which suggests she’s neither shy nor a maid. This is confirmed by her actions and by...

The dwarf watched Lemore slip into the water. The sight always made him hard. There was something wonderfully wicked about the thought of peeling the septa out of those chaste white robes and spreading her legs. Innocence despoiled, he thought … though Lemore was not near as innocent as she appeared. She had stretch marks on her belly that could only have come from childbirth.

Lemore was pregnant at one point!

When Lemore climbed back onto the deck, Tyrion savored the sight of water trickling between her breasts, her smooth skin glowing golden in the morning light. She was past forty, more handsome than pretty, but still easy on the eye. Being randy is the next best thing to being drunk, he decided. It made him feel as if he was still alive. "Did you see the turtle, Hugor?" the septa asked him, wringing water from her hair. "The big ridgeback?"

This disparity of behaviour between septa Lemore and any other septa in ASOIAF is VERY suspicious.  Note how Lemore has two mysteries about her already, she’s characterised nothing like any septa in ASOIAF (more like the tasteless “dornish wanton woman” sterotype instead) and a mystery child. What’s the point of that, if she’s irrelevant.

Compare how he Yandry and Ysilla couple is treated, where there are no bizarre things taking place that I noticed. Also Yandry and Ysilla are specifically said to be a pair of Dornish orphans. Why is the image of Dornish people here, along with Lemore? Suspicious, suspicious.

Lemore is “past fourty”. The asoiaf wiki lists Ashara Dayne as being born between 260AC and 269AC, which means that she’d be around this age if she had lived.

The imagery of a (false, but still) maidtaking a bath while men watch is the same as Florian and Jonquil song, an event that legend says happened at Maidenpool (close to... yes, that’s right, Harrenhal, where Ashara met Brandon).

"The turtles have their charms, I will allow. Nothing delights me so much as the sight of a nice pair of shapely … shells.

"Septa Lemore laughed. Like everyone else aboard the Shy Maid, she had her secrets. She was welcome to them. I do not want to know her, I only want to fuck her. She knew it too. As she hung her septa's crystal about her neck, to nestle in the cleft between her breasts, she teased him with a smile.

That’s not the behaviour of a septa and note the narrative acknowledgement that Lemore has secrets. She’s also called Lady instead of septa at some point in the narrative.

If this is Ashara, then Brandon met his match at Harrenhal. The waste, I can’t. What a sexy couple.

This chapter also contains Targ history as well as some Dorne (mother Rhoyne and whatnot). It goes well with Aegon is the real deal. But what really cinches it is the ending...

"It was him," cried Yandry. "The Old Man of the River."And why not?

Tyrion grinned. Gods and wonders always appear, to attend the birth of kings.

The Old Man of the River is a lesser god, the son of Mother Rhoyne. These gods are all associated with Dorne.

Aegon is real.++.

Tyrion VI ~ ADWD

"Even the bravest of your forebears kept his Kingsguard close about him in times of peril." Lemore had changed out of her septa's robes into garb more befitting the wife or daughter of a prosperous merchant. Tyrion watched her closely. He had sniffed out the truth beneath the dyed blue hair of Griff and Young Griff easily enough, and Yandry and Ysilla seemed to be no more than they claimed to be, whilst Duck was somewhat less. Lemore, though … Who is she, really? Why is she here? Not for gold, I'd judge. What is this prince to her? Was she ever a true septa?

Who is she, really... indeed... Lemore’s identity clearly is important.

She turned back to Prince Aegon. "You are not the only one who must needs hide."

Why does Lemore need to hide? :)

[fallin-4-ya]

The Follies and Vices of You

cedric diggory x reader part i of series 

based off the novel and film ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen

summary: Being the beloved sister of the incredibly wealthy Mr. Potter, you felt no need to rush into marriage. But one day, when you come to meet a new acquaintance, the proud Mr. Diggory, your views of love and follies change.

warnings: none! (gif is not mine, create to owner!)

part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v

‘Maybe it’s that I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others, or their offenses against me. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.’ -Jane Austen

The sun beat strongly against your face. You took in the warm, inviting breeze; as summer was quickly passing and fall was soon approaching. Sitting in silence admiring how the sun shone upon the lake, and how the trees hung, creating an arch above the small pathway leading to the water. However, your short peace became suddenly disturbed by another. Feeling a presence sit beside you, you spoke. “Good afternoon, my dear Harry. To what do I owe this disturbance upon my peace.’ you smirked with close eyes.

“Dear sister, I fear that I cannot disturb you, unless you yourself allow it so.’ He smiled back. You both couldn’t help but to laugh.

You and your brother, Harry, were left with a fortune by your late mother and father, who passed when you were but fifteen, and Harry at age seventeen. Both of you were entrusted by the care of your Godfather, Sirius Black; who came from a wealthy, noble family. Many years have gone since the passing of your parents; and although life may not have always been easy, you were very well off in your sense of fortune. The Potter Estate house you, your brother, your godfather and a dear friend of your late parents, Mr. Remus Lupin.

‘Now, Harry. What is it I can do for you?’ you asked with baited patience.

‘We are expecting company tonight. Some Mr. Weasleys and a Miss. Weasley.’ you nudged his shoulder at the term Miss Weasley. ‘Very funny, y/n. But we are to expect another, Mr. Diggory. A business partner of our dear friends. He is staying at their estate and will join us tonight. They say he is a proud man. Wealthy, very wealthy that is, but proud.’

‘How exited I am to see my dear Ginny! Its feels like ages since we’ve all dined together!’ you said excitedly ‘And as for this Mr. Diggory, I believe that I can deal with his pride just for one night. Now, shall I call Sirius and get the house in order?’

Harry shook his head and reached out his hand for you, picking you up off your feet. You linked arms and walked back to the Potter Estate. How lucky I am, you thought to yourself, to live in such a fine home and to be surrounded by such warm friends.

After dressing for the evening and pinning your hair, you heard a carriage arrive at your front doors. You rushed through the house and down the marble staircase, excited to meet your friends, that you had been apart from for so long. As soon as the doors open you ran to greet your friends.

‘Ginny!’ you embraced her.

‘Y/n!’ she pulled you into a warm hug. ‘Oh, my dear Miss Y/N! I simply cannot wait to spend such a pleasant evening with you. How I longed to see you again! What has it been? Since early this July? Oh, but wait until you see Mr. Diggory. I’ve never seen a more handsome man! They say he owns three estates in England alone, but how proud he is. Handsome, but proud.’

‘Ginny! Slow down we have much to talk about after dinner!’ you exclaimed.

Hearing the descending footsteps of your brother, Godfather and Mr. Lupin you turned to greet them with a bow. Ginny went straight to Harry and elongated her arm, awaiting a proper greeting.

‘Shall we leave them and go say hello to the others?’ Sirius asked grinning. You shook your head and smiled. There, in the doorframe, stood three of the six Weasley sons.

“Freddie, George, Ron! My dearest friends! Do tell me about your travels!’ you extended your arm to each of them.

‘So well they have been going, Miss Y/N! We have much to tell you!’ Fred exclaimed.

‘Yes! But first do let us introduce you to our new business partner, Mr. Diggory.’ George stated, ‘Mr. Diggory, may I introduce you to Miss Potter, beloved sister of Mr. Potter and Goddaughter of Mr. Black.’

Mr. Diggory took a short bow, placing a kiss onto your hand, ‘Yes, Mr. Weasley has told me much about you, Miss Potter.’

‘Oh,’ you smiled ‘please do call me Miss Y/N.’ He nodded as you lead them all to the dining room.

After some time conversing over dinner, you lead the way to the large parlor. There you each took seats, you making sure to be seated next to Ginny, so you could catch each other up on all of the missed gossip. What seemed like hours passed, as the gentlemen chatted away about business relations and the ladies talked about who was engaged to who. Suddenly you got a splendid idea.

‘Oh Ron, please do us the honor of playing on my pianoforte. I’d love nothing more than to dance.’ He smiled at you and got up from his seat.

‘Anything to please our dearest friend.’ Soon enough everyone is the parlor was dancing circles around each other, not caring who partnered with who; simply just having a good time. When suddenly in the corner of your eye you caught a glimpse of Mr. Diggory sitting alone. You walked over to the gentleman.

‘Mr. Diggory, do you dance?’

‘Not if I can help it. Even more so if one’s partner is barely tolerable’ He replied rather coldly.

‘Oh, well then how do you pass the time at such an event?’

‘Talk amongst the crowd in which I am already acquainted with.’

‘Well, I would find it hard to make new friends in that manner, Mr. Diggory.’

‘Then do tell me, Miss. Y/N. How do you make new friends?’

‘Dancing. Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable.’ You replied, walking away taking the arm of your Godfather; laughing and dancing the night away.

(ahhhh! i hope you guys enjoyed it! i hope to post a part 2 & 3, so let me know if that's something you are interested in! requests are open. <3)

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Peter Parker’s Younger Sibling

Peter Parker x sibling!reader

warnings: bullying mention, blood mention

a/n: a fuckin reach, its been a WHILE since ive seen tasm

prompt: y/n is peter’s sibling

peter and you were playful kids

you were just a year and some months younger than him, so you had a harder time remembering your parents than him

but he always told you stories about them that made you miss them a little more

peter was a genius, we all know it

he was the one helping you with your homework most nights

“peter i cant do it!”

“that’s okay, y/n. look, start with two times four, that’s eight, then four times six, twenty-four, right?”

“can i say a cuss word?”

“sure”

“math is shit”

you would cry during homework a lot

you’d also pass out on his floor after talking for hours

and you’d either wake up facedown on the floor or in your room since uncle ben would pick you up and put you to bed

peter took it upon himself to take you back to your room, but he usually dragged you by the arm, sooooo

you’d play action figures together

he was batman, you were robin always

“can i be batman?”

“oldest gets to be batman so im batman”

“but i wanna be batman!”

peter walked you to your school before taking off on his skateboard

and he’d pick you up on his way home

on half-days your brother taught you how to skate

you fell a lot

aunt may had to patch you up

“how many times do i have to tell you those skateboards are dangerous?!”

peter got you your own skateboard so that you could practice without him

you would text him after you did a trick and he’d always say hell yes! show me when i get home!

being his photography assistant

really you were his assistant constantly

science fair was the most boring day of the year

“y/n, stand right here, i need to get something from my locker”

*judges walk up while youre left unattended and in a state of PANIC*

you were bullied in middle school, same as peter, he’d always stick up for you and get beat up instead

it made you very mad but it was scary, too

“how’d you get into this fight, peter?”

“oh, you know, just happened”

“peter was sticking up for me, uncle ben”

“was he now? you’re a good brother, peter”

lonely when he moved onto high school :/

but you got there soon enough

you guys were kind of loners, just ate lunch together, lugged around your skateboards, you were an artist, he was a photographer

just spectating the chaos of high school, rolling your eyes at the drama

“i have two bucks, do you want anything from the vending machine?”

“uhh, a coke?”

you saw peter get bullied by flash and lost your shitttt

you actually started a food fight after throwing mashed potatoes in his eyes

“what the hell, parker?!”

“sit down and eat your goddamn food, flash, or next time it wont be potatoes”

peter was half-proud, half-embarrassed

trying to see how long you could skate through the halls before any authority figures stopped you

sometimes......you guys got sent to the office together :)

*phone ringing* “hello, is this ben parker?”

“which one of them is it this time?”

the principal’s office was a trip sometimes

you and peter exchange your glances and wait to get scolded

“ah, the parkers, come in, lets have a chat...why do you two always feel the need to get in trouble together?”

“we just happen to get along really well for siblings”

no you fuckin dont lmaoooo

it was always something with you two

like always

*banging on peter’s door* “I KNOW YOU HAVE MY BROWNIES, PETER, GIVE THEM BACK”

*peter through a mouthful of brownies* “I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOURE TALKING ABOUT, YOURE CRAZY”

“is that my jacket?” -peter

“you mean my jacket?”

“y/n, i swear to god if you steal any more of my clothes it’s over for you”

“well, aunt may keeps giving me your clothes, so take it up with her”

and then there was just the little annoying things

“peter, can you stop clicking your pen?”

*clicks pen faster*

“you’re the worst”

and my personal favorite

“peter, open the door”

“why?”

“emergency”

*opens bedroom door* “what?”

“aunt may is making meatloaf”

“shit, uh...get your board, we’ll skate to mcdonalds and tell her we already ate”

peter and you RARELY ever brought your parents up until he found your dad’s briefcase, you didn’t have much to say

soon he was flooding his room with conspiracies and pulling you in to explain them

he began acting REALLY weird, but he was pretty open with you, he told you he went to oscorp

“YOU SNUCK IN??”

“your standards for me are way too high, y/n”

soon you started to feel not-so-good and weird things started to happen

“peter??”

“yeah? whats up?”

“this is gonna sound really weird...my hand is stuck to the door”

“it happened to you, too??”

“happening, pete. wait—this happened to you?? what is this???????”

yall done fucked up and got bit by spiders peter had so carelessly brought back into the house

it was an adjustment to say the least

and this adjustment got a whole lot harder that one night...you can remember peter just...so upset

you tried to chase him out to make sure he was okay, but uncle ben told you to stay with your aunt

maybe if you’d have been there...it would’ve been different, but when the cops got to your house you were at a loss for words

peter was covered in his blood still

“hey, hey, just breathe, okay? it’s not your fault, peter. just hop in the shower, yeah? i’ll take care of your clothes”

when peter took your advice and you were left alone, you just cried, you cried until he finally found you curled up in a ball in your room

then he cried, you just hugged each other sobbing your eyes out

peter got distant for a while, which was rough since the two of your were mourning for your uncle and dealing with these newfound powers

sooner or later he came around and helped you out, designing webshooters and a suit for you

“we match?”

*sigh* “yeah...yeah, we match”

ah yes, spider-team

you really tripped out new york at first, they thought spider-man was a teleporter

peter was still talking about your dad, but you really didn’t care, uncle ben was always going to be who raised you

you and peter would be covered in bruises after going out

“uh—peter punched me”

“y/n???!!!”

“I PANICKED”

just being dumb scared teens that cant function to save their lives until they get a little bit lucky

seriously like, every big villain you guys fought was just the worst

peter didn’t help all the time, he was good at provoking them sometimes

“hey, spider-man, you mind shutting up for a minute? for my sake?”

“sorry, sorry, just couldn’t help myself!”

he gushed to you about gwen stacy, he actually dragged you to her apartment to be patched up by her SEVERAL TIMES

yadda yadda yadda peter graduated high school! how cool is that? but he was late (what a surprise) even though you put off spidering today just for this

but he made it and you clapped the loudest for him

“thats my brotherrrr!!!”

cute family picture! (aunt may printed a bunch of them and gave them to you two and peter pinned them to his wall)

you and peter actually have a lot of pictures of the two of you just goofing off

he has one of you stuck in a trash can that cracks him up every time

seeing harry osborn again after YEARS

“wow, y/n, last time i saw you i just thought you were peter’s annoying little sibling”

“aww, it’s good to see you, too”

electrooooo

this guy really worried you bc like, bzzzz shock

you and peter weren’t equipped for that

it took a while, but you were finally able to deal with that

and several other problems

including peter’s breakup, which was a whole ordeal of its own

*peter laying upside down on your bed* “i dont know, y/n, you know? i wanna be with her so bad, i love her...but her dad is haunting me”

*you, drawing on your notepad with your legs propped up on his* “yeah, makes sense”

you actually had to tap out during the end of electro, you were hurt pretty bad

“y/n, hey? yeah, you’re okay. stay here, just stay right there, i’m gonna be back for you”

*thumbs up to show youre still alive*

but when peter came back for you there was bad news, he’d lost gwen

he ripped his mask off and fell to his knees, you could barely move but you powered through it, giving him a hug while he cried

“we...we better get home before aunt may starts to worry”

she was at work, so you two had the place to yourselves to clean up and mourn before the official news was revealed

“i should have listened to her dad, y/n, this is all my fault”

he was a mess, you couldn’t bare seeing him like this. it’s been so long since you’d seen him like this

the funeral was rough, peter was grasping onto your shoulder the whole time

he insisted that he was going to stick behind and stay with gwen for a while

“okay, i’ll see you at home...love you”

“love you too”

you gave him a hug and left him to his business, the next few months you were the only spider-person operating in new york...until rhino popped up

“im coming with you”

“you’re sure?”

“yeah, im sure”

(these are kinda ass but anyways im tagging my marvel ppl even tho ik this isnt mcu so just ignore this post if you dont care, sorry!!)

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @allthecreativeonesaretaken // @frostedgiant // @praellee // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs //

[lailoken]

“Ash (Fraxinus excelsior).

In the nineteenth century it was believed that if ash trees failed to produce fruit — keys — disaster was foretold.

In Yorkshire:

Some people every summer examined the ash tree . . . to see whether or not they had produced any seed; for the barrenness of the ash was said to be a sure sign of public calamity. It was a tradition among aged and thoughtful men, that the ash trees of England produced no seed during the year in which Charles the First was beheaded. [Jackson, 1873: 14]

In East Anglia:

The failure of the Crop of Ash-keys portends a death in the Royal Family . . . The failure in question is certainly, in some seasons, very remarkable; many an old woman believes that, if she were the fortunate finder of a bunch, and could get introduced to the king, he would give her a great deal of money for it. [Forby, 1830: 406]

ROWAN Or mountain ash, an unrelated tree which has leaves similar to those of ash, was widely considered to provide protection. Occasionally ash itself was also believed to be protective.

Rowan and ash sticks were used to drive cattle . . . believed to be 'kindly' and both trees were believed to be endowed with properties that ensured no interference from harmful influences. [Larne, Co. Antrim, October 1993]

In rural areas 'even' ash leaves-those leaves which lack a terminal leaflet and therefore have an even number of leaflets-were used in love DIVINATION. In Dorset:

The ash leaf is frequently invoked by young girls as a matrimonial oracle in the following way: The girl who wishes to divine who her future lover or husband is to be plucks an even ash leaf, and holding it in her hand, says:

“The even ash leaf in my hand, The first I meet shall be my man.’

Then putting it into her glove, adds:

‘The even ash leaf in my glove, The first I meet shall be my love.'

And lastly, into her bosom, saying:

‘The even ash leaf in my bosom, The first I meet shall be my husband.'

Soon after which the future lover or husband will be sure to make his appearance. [Udal, 1922: 254]

According to a 52-year-old woman who described how she used ash leaves for divination during her childhood:

Start at the bottom leaflet on the left-hand side and say:

“An even ash is in my hand

The first I meet will be my man.

If he don't speak and I don't speak,

This even ash I will not keep.”

As each word is said, count a leaflet around the leaf until the rhyme is completed (this probably entails going round the leaf several times). When the rhyme is finished, continue by reciting the alphabet until the bottom right-hand leaflet is reached. The letter given to this leaflet gives the initial of your boyfriend. Two or three leaves may be used so that you get a greater range of letters. [Thorncombe, Dorset, June 1976]

In many parts of northern Britain ash was known as esh. In north Lincolnshire:

There is a widespread opinion that if a man takes a newly-cut 'esh-plant' not thicker than his thumb, he may lawfully beat his wife with it. [Britten and Holland, 1886: 170]

Burning the ashen faggot — a faggot made from young ash saplings — was a widespread Christmastide custom in Devon and Somerset during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. According to a late nineteenth-century writer, it was:

an ancient ceremony transmitted to us from the Scandinavians who at their feast of Juul were accustomed to kindle huge bonfires in honour of Thor. The faggot is composed of ashen sticks, hooped round with bands of the same tree, nine in number. When placed on the fire, fun and jollity commence-master and servant are now all at equal footing. Sports begin-jumping in sacks, diving in the water for APPLES, and many other innocent games engage the attention of the rustics. Every time the bands crack by reason of the heat of the fire, all present are supposed to drink liberally of cider or egg-hot, a mixture of cider, eggs, etc. The reason why ash is selected in preference to any other timber is that tradition assigns it as the wood with which Our Lady kindled a fire in order to wash her new-born Son. [Poole, 1877: 6]

Ashen faggots are still burnt in a few West Country pubs, and miniature faggots are occasionally prepared for burning on domestic hearths.

On the evening of January sth ('old' Christmas Eve) at Curry Rivel, a Somerset village situated on the southern edge of Kings Sedgemoor, the wassailers go visiting' around the parish with their wassail song and the ashen faggot is ceremoniously burned at the King William IV public house. The faggot is made from young ash saplings and bound with bonds ('fonds,' 'fronds,' 'thongs,' or 'bonds') of withies (osiers); bramble has been used occasionally in the past. The number of bonds is variable but since the bursting of any one during the burning is a signal to ʻdrink up,' decency and country logic demands a 'reasonable few'. Either five or six are normally used. At the appropriate moment the faggot is placed on the fire, traditionally by the oldest customer-one villager can recall the fag- got being brought in a wheelbarrow as was 'right and proper'-and as each bond bursts there is much cheering and a general clamour for drink. The landlord, Mr John Cousins, prepares a bowl of hot punch for the occasion to augment the barrel of beer usually provided by the house Brewery. Until quite recently cider was consumed in large quantities; the 'brew' of cider and perry donated by the (Langs) Hambridge Brewery in 1957 is particularly remembered. [Willey, 1983: 40]

In the first half of the nineteenth century:

Some towns in Somerset held 'Ashen Faggot Balls'. The one in Taunton on January 2nd, 1826 was 'most respectably attended by the principal families of the town and neighbourhood'. It was still held twenty years later, but by then the event was losing its appeal. [Legg, 1986: 54]

In some parts of southern England ash twigs were carried by children on ASH WEDNESDAY.

In villages around Alton in Hampshire, and as far away as East Meon, near Petersfield, at Crowborough in Sussex, and doubtless in other places, children pick a black-budded twig of ash and put it in their pocket on this day. A child who does not remember to bring a piece of ash to school on Ash Wednesday can expect to have his feet trodden on by every child who possesses a twig, unless, that is, he or she is lucky enough to escape until midday. [Opie, 1959: 240]

I was born and lived as a child in Crowborough . . . On Ash Wednesday it was always the custom to take a piece of the [ash] tree around with you. The piece had to have a black bud, without it it was void. If you were unable to produce the piece when asked the rest of the children could stamp on your toes. I remember one day whan I was playing about with it in school and was told to take it to the front and leave it in the waste- paper basket-and all the way back to the seat had to dodge the stamps! Ever prudent I had another piece for play time! This all stopped at 12 mid-day. [Pershore, Worcester shire, October 1991]

[At Heston, Middlesex, in the 1930s] on Ash Wednesday we all took a twig of ash tree to school and produced it when challenged or risked a kick-and we had to get rid of it at 12 noon. We even risked the wrath of the teacher by rushing to an open window to throw out our twigs as soon as the mid-day dinner bell rang. [St Ervan, Cornwall, February 1992]

A widespread cure for HERNIA involved passing the patient through a split ash sapling, preferably one which had grown naturally from seed and had not previously been damaged by man. The tree was then tightly bound up and as it grew together so the patient would be healed. A full description provided in 1878 by the wife of a Sussex clergyman demonstrates how this cure, which required communal cooperation, was considered to be quite normal:

A child so afflicted must be passed nine times every morning on nine suc- cessive days at sunrise through a cleft in a sapling ash tree, which has been so far given up by the owner of it to the parents of the child as that there is an understanding that it shall not be cut down during the life of the infant that is passed through it. The sapling must be sound of heart, and the cleft must be made with an axe. The child, on being carried to the tree, must be attended by nine persons, each of whom must pass it through the cleft from west to east. On the ninth morning the solemn ceremony is concluded by binding the tree tightly with a cord, and it is supposed that as the cleft closes the health of the child will improve. In the neighbourhood of Petworth some cleft ashes may be seen, through which children have very recently been passed. I may add that only a few weeks since, a person who lately purchased an ash-tree standing in this parish, intended to cut it down, was told by the father of the child who had some time before passed through it, that the infirmity would be sure to return upon his son if it were felled. Whereupon the good man said, he knew such would be the case; and therefore he would not fell it for the world. [Latham, 1878: 40]

Similarly:

A remarkable instance of the extraordinary superstition which still prevails in the rural districts of Somerset has lately come to light at Athelney. It appears that a child was recently born in the neighbourhood with a physical ailment, and the neighbours persuaded the parents to resort to a very novel method of charming away the complaint. A sapling ash was split down the centre, and wedges were inserted so as to afford an opening sufficient for the child's body to pass through without touching either side of the tree. This having been done, the child was undressed, and, with its face held heavenward, it was drawn through the sapling in strict accord- ance with the superstition. Afterwards the child was dressed and simul- taneously the tree was bound up. The belief of those who took part in this strange ceremony is that if the tree grows the child will grow out of its bodily ills. The affair took place at the rising of the sun on a recent Sunday morning, in the presence of the child's parents, several of the neighbours, and the parish police-constable. [Bath and Wells Diocesan Magazine, 1886: 178]

An example ofan ash thus used can be seen in the Somerset Rural Life Museum at Glastonbury. A similar practice could be used to overcome IMPOTENCE.

In Wales the similar ritual was to split a young ash or HAZEL stem and hold it just fastened at the top. This made a symbolic vulva into which the impotent male introduced his recalcitrant organ. Binding up the tree again enabled it to heal, during which the impotence faded. [Richards, 1979: 13]

In Cheshire a cure for WARTS

was to steal a piece of bacon and push it under a piece of ash-bark. Excrescences would then appear on the tree; as they grew, the warts would van- ish. [Hole, 1937: 12]

In Wiltshire sufferers seeking a cure from NEURALGIA were advised:

Cut off a piece of each finger and toe nail and a piece off your hair. Get up on the next Sunday morning before sunrise and with a gimlet bore a hole in the first maiden ash you come across and put the nails and hair in; then plug the hole up. [Whitlock, 1976: 167]

In many areas 'shrew-ashes' were used to cure lameness in cattle and other illnesses. In a letter dated 8 January 1776, Gilbert White of Selborne, Hampshire, wrote:

A shrew-ash is an ash whose twigs or branches, when gently applied to the limbs of cattle, will immediately relieve the pains which a beast suffers from the running of a shrew-mouse over the part affected . . . Against this accident, to which they were continually liable, our provident fore- fathers always kept a shrew-ash at hand, which, once medicated, would maintain its virtue for ever. A shew-ash was made thus:- Into the body of the tree a deep hole was bored with an auger, and a poor devoted shrew- mouse was thrust in alive, and plugged in, no doubt, with several quaint incantations long since forgotten. [White, 1822, I: 344]

In the nineteenth century a particularly well-known shrew-ash in Richmond Park, Surrey. According to the park-keepers' tradition ʻgood Queen Bess had lurked under its shade to shoot deer as they were driven past’ [Ffennell, 1898: 333]. This tree was closely observed by Sir Richard Owen (1804-92), first director of the Natural History Museum in London, who lived near the tree, at Sheen Lodge, from grew 1852.

Either the year he came to live in the park or the year after . . . he first encountered a young mother with a sick child accompanied by 'an old dame', 'a shrew-mother', or, as he generally called her a 'witch-mother'. They were going straight for the tree; but when they saw him, they turned off in quite another direction till they supposed he was out of sight. He, however, struck by their sudden avoidance of him, watched them from a distance, saw them return to the tree, where they remained some little time, as if busily engaged with it; then they went away. He was too far off to hear anything said, but heard the sounds of voices in unison on other occasions. He heard afterwards from the keeper of Sheen Gate... that mothers with 'bewitched' infants, or with young children afficted with WHOOPING COUGH, decline, and other ailments, often came, some- times from long distances, to this tree. It was necessary that they should arrive before sunrise . . . Many children were said to be cured at the tree. The greatest secrecy was always observed when visiting. This was re- spected by Sir Richard Owen, who, whenever he saw a group advanc- ing towards it, moved away, and was always anxious that they should not be disturbed. He could not tell me in what year he last saw a group approach the tree to seek its aid. He could only say he had seen them often, and thought they continued to come for many years. [Ffennell, 1898: 334]

During a recent survey [of Richmond Park] the site of the old shrew ash was identified. This proved to be . . . the spot where an ancient ash still stood in 1987. A sucker from its roots was still alive, although the tree itself was passé. The storm of autumn brought the trunk down. A railing has now been erected around the remains, which are to be left in the ground, and a young ash is to be planted alongside the stump. Presumably it will eventually replace the old tree, but it means that the site at least will remain identifiable. [Kew, Surrey, February 1994]

There uses included curing EARACHE, RINGWORM, and SNAKE BITES.

The sap of a young ash sapling was used to cure earache. A sapling was cut and put into a fire so that when the stick started to burn the sap came out the end and was caught on a spoon. This could be put on cotton wool and put into the ear. [Daingean, Co. Offaly, January 1985]

Ringworm was more common in my childhood . . . a remedy resorted to was to burn ash twigs in a tin box or similar container and allow the smoke from the smouldering twigs to envelop the affected part—usually arms, neck or face. [Larne, Co. Antrim, October 1993]

Ash leaves are used to combat viper bites. When an animal has been bitten farmers boil ash leaves and give the animal the resulting liquid and place the boiled leaves as a poultice on the bite. Works on people too! [Dorchester, Dorset, February 1992]

Ash sticks were used as weapons.

The Joyces are tinkers . . . they are wary and row among themselves. They do have some fierce fights in which the women join in. When they have each others heads well cut with ash plants they settle down and are as friendly as ever. [IFCSS MSS 750: 242, Co. Longford]

Stories relating to Ireland's past tell of fair-day brawls where ash plants were used and blood flowed freely. [Ballymote, Co. Sligo, May 1994]”

—

The Oxford Dictionary of Plant-Lore

by Roy Vickery

[madisonrooney]

for the first time in almost two years, it’s dove story time!!!

we got in line 4 hours before doors which ended up being PERFECT timing bc two other groups showed up literally right when we did. it was VERY important for me to be as close to the front as possible so i could interact with her and im so happy we managed ideal timing. we almost only got there 3 hours early so im v glad we tacked on that extra hour. it was me and katy for most of the wait then lee joined up with us closer to doors. we headed in and got right to the front of the stage! and it was a VERY small venue so extremely intimate.

interactions - i think she waved at me during remember me? - during lazy baby she looked right at me during a “if you dont give a fuck” and we v much did “oh not even one like i cannot even stress how much im done” together - BEFORE WASTE SHE SAID “this song is about when youre so attracted to someone you just wanna rip your skin off just to look at them. weve all been there right?” AND I SAID “yep with you!” AND SHE SAID “with me!? stop it! so this is a group date now-” LIKE HFGJKFDJKGF THATS GONNA GO DOWN AS ONE OF MY FAV ICONIC INTERACTIONS WITH HER. LIKE NOT TO GET OVERLY SAPPY OVER A SILLY MOMENT BUT THATS LIKE THE CLOSEST IVE GOTTEN TO CONFESSING MY LOVE OVER THESE LAST SIX YEARS LMAO I REALLY NEEDED THAT. IVE BEEN TOO SHY TO SHOW IT IN THE PAST BUT NOW THAT THE WHOLE FANDOM IS LIKE OPENLY GAY FOR HER I FEEL LIKE I CAN BE TOO. i found a vid ill post it soon. - also touched my hand during waste!!!! and pointed at me when singing “i wanna waste all my love on you”!!!!!! - p sure she was looking at me when better in stereo started which....is fitting - think she was looking right at me during taste of you - touched my hand again as she left during out of touch - not with her but after she did so good someone said “it was so good!” and i did a “ba dum tss” then the drummer did it and pointed at me LMAO - also i got a pic with her guitarist and he gave me a guitar pick!! (and i got a set list and photo ID lyrics!! i was really hoping to get a set list so thats def going on the dove wall)

people brought up froyo yolo again and she talked about it which was hilarious. if the fandom is gonna have solidarity over anything, thats the best possible thing we couldve come together about.

and ofc better in stereo live got me like....hyperventilating. i had NEVER heard that live in these past 8 years. if she was gonna include ONE throwback song it literally couldve been nothing better. and it just warms my heart that she did that on her own accord, that it meant that much to her.

and now the part where i sound like a broken reocrd and talk about how much this means to me.

first of all, obviously it had been almost TWO YEARS to the day since the last time i saw her. and that was from VERY far back seats so quite honestly i couldnt even see her face. so its technically been more than two years. thats more than TWICE as long as what had previously been the longest id gone without seeing her, which was already ahead by a wide margin. and yah, this is the case for everyone and everything bc of the global panda express, but that doesnt take away the amazing feeling of it finally happening again.

also, this is SO much different than anything else ive experienced with her before. people could say “ok youve seen her a million times this was just another time” but ive never had an experience like this!!! any other time ive been that close to her, it was for a meet and greet and lasted like less than 5 min. i got to stand there in all her glory for more than an hour. and hear HER music for the first time. it was the first time ive been to something like this where it was all about HER, no character or movie franchise (not that thats a bad thing, but this was something new and special).

again, the venue was so small and intimate it was perfect. my simp ass was STRUGGLING looking into those eyes from mere feet away for that long. it was really one of those nights of falling in love all over again.

i also had my two lovely emotional support friends who im so happy got to experience this with me and enjoy it as well. and i talked to a lot of other nice fans!! sometimes im too shy to do that but it actually worked out really well??

OH AND THEN IT JUST GOT WORSE WHEN I GOT HOME LOL

SHE LIKED A TOTAL OF FOUR TWEETS INCLUDING STOLEN VIDEOS OF MINE AND REPOSTED A STOLEN VID ON HER STORY

BUT SHE ALSO WATCHED MY STORY

and then i found the vid of me flirting which i didnt already have so i was relieved to find that

its hard going back to not knowing when ill see her again, but the way im trying to look at it is the fact that events are only just STARTING to happen again, so theres more where this came from. we dont know when, but im sure its just around the corner. things always seem to work out for us.

anyway, all the love to my favorite girl and all the thanks for giving me yet another memory thatll last a lifetime

[aion-rsa]

The True Story Behind James Cameron’s Titanic

https://ift.tt/3shvKln

James Cameron’s 1997 blockbusting tearjerker, Titanic, puts an epic love story in the middle of the greatest maritime disaster in the history of the North Atlantic. On April 15, 1912, midway through its maiden voyage from Southampton, England, to New York City, the RMS Titanic struck an iceberg. Because of a severe shortage of lifeboats, 1,517 people died. In the weeks which followed, the luxury liner was said to have been billed as “unsinkable,” but that claim had never been made until after the nautical disaster.

This and other myths have lived on, thanks particularly to Cameron’s romantic (and often fanciful) movie. And yet, not all truths have been lost at sea.

Jack and Rose

Jack Dawson, played by Leonardo DiCaprio, and Rose DeWitt Bukater, played by Kate Winslet as a young woman and Gloria Stuart when elderly, are a myth. They are fictional characters. Jack wasn’t slipped $20 for rescuing Rose, and never taught her how to spit off the side of a ship like a man. But there was a member of the Titanic crew named Joseph Dawson. Born in Dublin, Joseph Dawson worked as a coal trimmer, evening out piles of coal which were shoveled into the ship’s furnaces.

Rose DeWitt-Bukater is the first film character portrayed by two actors who were both nominated for an Academy Award. Winslet was nominated as Best Actress, and Stuart was nominated as Best Supporting Actress. Rose is modeled on Beatrice Wood, who did not travel on the Titanic. Born in San Francisco to wealthy parents, her coming out party was cancelled the same year the Titanic sank.

Beatrice joined the French National Repertory Theatre under the stage name Mademoiselle Patricia, playing more than 60 roles before she was noticed by artist Marcel Duchamp. She was well known by artists during the Dada period, and lived long enough to be invited by James Cameron to the opening of Titanic.

Captain Edward John Smith

Before skippering the Titanic, Capt. Edward John Smith (Bernard Hill) spent 40 years at sea without major incidents. Smith had been working on boats since he was a teenager. He earned a master’s certificate, which is required to serve as captain, in 1875. He became a junior officer with the White Star Line in 1880. He commanded his first ship in 1887. Like many veteran captains, he occasionally ran ships aground, and was captain of the Olympic when it collided with the British cruiser Hawke off the Isle of Wight in 1911, a year before he helmed the Titanic.

The Titanic received iceberg warnings several days into its maiden voyage. Smith adjusted the course but reportedly did not decrease speed. He was away from the bridge when the ship struck an iceberg. The first damage report, from Fourth Officer Joseph G. Boxhall (Simon Crane), found no damage. But a closer inspection from the Titanic’s designer Thomas Andrews (Victor Garber), found five of the ship’s 16 watertight compartments were flooded. The Titanic could have stayed afloat with up to four flooded compartments. At about midnight, Andrews reported the ship would founder within 60 to 90 minutes. Smith gave orders to uncover the lifeboats and alert the passengers at 12:05 a.m.

Because of some of the reported incidents, some historians wonder whether Smith was in a state of shock at the news. Crewmen didn’t lower the lifeboats until 12:45 a.m., and only because Second Officer Charles Lightoller (Jonny Phillips) reminded the captain to give the order.

Smith’s final moments are unknown. Early newspaper reports alleged he shot himself with a pistol. Several witnesses claimed to have seen him swim to a nearby lifeboat with an infant in his arms before swimming back to the Titanic. Some witnesses said he was swept off deck by a wave, others believed he made it to an overturned lifeboat. Smith’s body was never found.

Joseph Bruce Ismay

J. Bruce Ismay (Jonathan Hyde) was born Dec. 12, 1862, near Liverpool, England. His father was the founder of the White Star Line. Educated at Harrow and tutored in France, he travelled the world before becoming the New York company agent for White Star Line. He became head of Ismay, Imrie & Company after his father’s death in 1899, oversaw its acquisition by J.P. Morgan’s International Mercantile Marine Company in 1902, and was named president of IMM in 1904.

In 1907, Ismay met with Lord Pirrie of the Belfast shipbuilding company Harland and Wolff to discuss building a fast luxury liner with huge steerage capacity which would rival the Cunard Line’s RMS Lusitania and RMS Mauretania. Three ships were built, the RMS Olympic, RMS Britannic, and the pride of the fleet, the RMS Titanic. The ship was built by British White Star Lines at a cost of $10 million. It weighed 46,000 tons and was 882.5 feet long.

History puts culpability for the Titanic disaster on Ismay. He reportedly demanded the captain increase speed in spite of the iceberg warnings, but during the U.S. Senate’s Inquiry into the disaster, he testified the ship was never going at full speed and didn’t even have all of the boilers on. Ismay was the company officer who gave the order to cut the number of lifeboats onboard from 48 to the Board of Trade standard minimum of 16, plus 4 collapsible Engelhardt boats. But Ismay also helped crewmen get the lifeboats ready and convinced passengers to board the lifeboats before danger was visibly apparent. Ismay boarded Engelhardt C, the last lifeboat launched, only 20 minutes before the Titanic crashed beneath the waves.

While Ismay was attacked in the press and branded a coward for escaping while so many working-class women and children died, testimony from surviving officers exonerated his actions as in the best interest of the passengers. Ismay retired from IMM and the White Star Line in 1913.

Chief Engineer Officer Joseph Bell

Joseph Bell (Terry Forrestal) was from Farlam, Cumbria, and a family who had been farmers for generations.  Born in March 1861, Joseph began his seafaring career as an apprentice engine fitter at Robert Stephensons and Co. in Newcastle. Bell joined the White Star line in 1885, serving on vessels working the waters of New Zealand and New York.

Joseph, was promoted to Chief Engineer on the Coptic in 1891 and married Maud Bates in 1893. By 1911, he was the Chief Engineer on White Star Line’s Olympic before being transferred to the Titanic. His staff consisted of 24 engineers, six electrical engineers, two boilermakers, a plumber, and a clerk. None survived the sinking.

The Unsinkable Molly Brown

Legend has it, Margaret Tobin Brown (Kathy Bates) was called “The Unsinkable Molly Brown” because she helped evacuate the ship, took up one of the oars in the lifeboat, and threatened to throw Quartermaster Robert Hichens (Paul Brightwell) overboard if he didn’t go back to the boat to save more people. The myth says the nickname was plucked from the first words she said upon landing safely in New York: “Typical Brown luck. I’m unsinkable!” But Brown actually got the tag as an insult from Denver gossip columnist Polly Pry as revenge for the story of a local hero being printed in another magazine first.

Molly Tobin was born in Hannibal, Missouri in 1867. Her Irish family was part of a wave of immigrants who came to America after the country’s industrialization. Margaret went to school until age 13 when she began working in a factory. She left in search of better work conditions. She met J.J. Brown, a mining engineer, and they were married on Sept. 1, 1886. While most of their neighbors in the Leadville, Missouri community lived in devastating poverty because of the 1893 Silver Crash, J.J. discovered gold in Ibex Mining’s Little Johnny Mine, where he was made a primary shareholder. The couple became nearly instantaneous millionaires.

Moving to Denver where the Silver Crash also took a heavy economic toll, Margaret became part of the Progressive movement, fighting for public baths, public parks, and other city improvements. The Browns separated in 1909 but never divorced. Margaret and her daughter Helen were on an extended vacation with Col. John Jacob “Jack” Astor IV and Madeleine Astor in 1912 when they heard news about a family member’s health issue at home and booked passage on the first available ship, the Titanic.

After the crash, Margaret was lowered in lifeboat number six, which was equipped to hold 65 passengers, but set off with 21 women, two men, and a twelve-year-old boy onboard. Margaret manned an oar. Her knowledge of foreign languages helped her bring passengers aboard the Carpathia, the first ship to answer the distress call. Margaret distributed blankets and supplies, and got the first-class passengers to donate money to help less fortunate passengers.

Brown continued her Progressive program, helping miners striking against the Colorado Fuel and Iron Company. Twenty people were killed when a battle broke out between the miners and private guards hired by the company in one of the most violent labor conflicts in American history. Once the aftermath and PR battles died down, Margaret moved into her summer home in Newport, Rhode Island where she became involved with Alva Vanderbilt Belmont, the President of the National Women’s Suffrage Association.

The two women spearheaded the National Women’s Trade Union League, which advocated for a minimum wage, an eight-hour workday, and did not distinguish between women of the upper classes and working women.

Margaret wrote newspaper articles, gave public speeches, and was drawn to the radical side of the party, which pushed for a national suffrage amendment. In July 1914, Brown and Belmont organized the Conference of Great Women, which led to Margaret’s bid for a U.S. Senator seat representing Colorado. She shifted her focus when World War I broke out, traveling to France to work for the American Committee for Devastated France.

After WWI, Molly indulged her lifelong passion for the stage, performing in plays in Paris and New York. The 1960 Broadway musical The Unsinkable Molly Brown was based on her life, Debbie Reynolds played her in the 1964 film adaptation.  Brown died in her sleep on Oct. 26, 1932, at the Barbizon Hotel in New York City.

Madeleine Astor and Jacob Astor IV

Madeleine Astor (Charlotte Chatton) was five months pregnant when she boarded the Titanic in Cherbourg, France with her husband Col. John Jacob “Jack” Astor IV (Eric Braeden); her husband’s valet, and her maid and nurse. Madeleine was the daughter of William Hurlbut Force, a shipping magnate, and her family was part of Brooklyn high society. The Astors were ending their extended honeymoon which began with a trip from New York on Titanic‘s sister ship, the Olympic.

When the Titanic was sinking, Astor’s husband helped her and her maid into lifeboat four but was denied entry himself by Second Officer Lightoller, who said the boats were for women and children only. Col. Astor perished with the ship. Madeleine Astor gave birth on Aug. 14, 1912. Her late husband’s will was conditional, and when Madeleine married her childhood friend, the banker William Karl Dick, four years after the Titanic tragedy, she lost her stipend from his trust fund.

Isidor and Ida Straus

Here’s a real heartbreaker greater than even Kate and Leo. Remember the image of a couple holding each other and crying as water seeps into their cabin? They were based on the tragically real figures of Isidor and Ida Straus, two of the wealthiest people on the Titanic.

Born into a Jewish family in Otterberg in 1845, back when that village was part of the Kingdom of Bavaria and Germany did not yet exist, Isidor immigrated as a child with his family to the United States. Growing up in Georgia when the Civil War broke out, he even considered joining the Confederacy before instead becoming a blockade runner for the South (think Rhett Butler). After the war, he moved to New York City where he met Ida, a fellow immigrant from the Germanic states.

In New York, Isidor worked at L. Straus and Sons, which quickly became the glass and china department at Macy’s. Yes, that Macy’s. The original one. By 1888, Isidor and his brother became partners in the first major American department store. By 1896 they owned it. Around this time, Isidor even served a single term as a Congressman in the U.S. House of Representatives.

When the Titanic hit an iceberg in 1912, Isidor and Ida were returning home after a holiday in France. As a first class passenger woman from one of the finest cabins on the ship, Ida was almost immediately offered space on a lifeboat. Isidor escorted her to it, but when it came time to get on, she refused. She wouldn’t leave her husband. Isidor was then also offered a spot on the lifeboat beside her, but he also refused, saying he would “not go before other men.”

So both of them declined the lifeboat space and instead gave it to Ida’s maid. One witness said she heard Ida say, “We have been living together for many years. Where you go, I go.” They walked off back toward the neck, never to be seen again.

And the Band Played On

The crew of the RMS Titanic took the adage “women and children first” very seriously. The Titanic‘s eight-member band, led by violinist Wallace Hartley (Jonathan Evans-Jones), never even jockeyed for position. When the band heard the ship was going down, they set up in the first-class lounge and played to keep passengers calm. As the water rose, the band moved to the forward half of the boat deck. Hartley worked for the Cunard ship line before taking the gig on the Titanic. The other band members were violinists George Alexandre Krins and John Law Hume, violist and bassist John Frederick Preston Clarke, cellists John Wesley Woodward, and Roger Marie Bricoux, and pianists Percy Cornelius Taylor and Theodore Ronald Brailey.

According to some passengers, the final song played was “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” a hymn written in 1861 by the Rev. John Dykes. Versions of this song play in the films Titanic (1953), A Night to Remember (1958) and Cameron’s Titanic. This was discounted by Colonel Archibald Gracie, an amateur historian who survived the disaster.

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“I assuredly should have noticed it and regarded it as a tactless warning of immediate death to us all, and one likely to create panic,” he is quoted as saying in Steven Turner’s book, The Band That Played On: The Extraordinary Story of the Eight Musicians Who Went Down with the Titanic. He recalled that the band played cheerful songs to keep spirits up. Other survivors also reported hearing songs like “Alexander’s Ragtime Band” and “In the Shadows.”

“Nearer, My God, to Thee” was sung by passengers who survived the 1906 wreck of the SS Valencia and had been played during the impending doom on the decks of the Titanic, but those passengers who heard the song had disembarked earlier than the crew.  Wireless operator Harold Bride told The New York Times he heard the song “Autumn” before the ship sank.

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[prettyboy-parker]

favorite fics of 2020 (and a goodbye)

hi all!

first, i wanted to say this is inspired by one of my closest friends my bitch @honeybunstarker . thank u for that 

secondly, i wanted to say a final goodbye. i know that i nearly left a few months ago, but i was still on the fence about writing for marvel then. now, ive lost all interest. thank you all for fueling my love for writing, and making these past two (??? i actually don’t know) years full of excitement and encouragement! from the ups (the blocklist, secret santa) to the downs (my favorite blogs and friends deactivating without a word), ive had the greatest time in this fandom. 

in case you were worried, i am NOT deactivating. my fics will be available for you to read whenever you want.

but, i will not be writing for marvel anymore, nor will i be posting on this blog.

now that the sad part is done, i didn't want to leave you guys without anything to entertain yourselves with. so, here are my favorite fics, including some non-marvel, from this year! 

(all descriptions are from the work itself)

my top fic from this year, which is also one of my favorite fics of all time, is a dog named sunshine.

“Bucky Barnes has issues. Mental health issues, and a whole lot of them, to be precise. Bucky is fucked up, and he knows that. His apartment looks like a dumping ground on most days, he can’t sleep through the night, sometimes he doesn’t shower for six days and doesn’t leave the house except to see his therapist once a week. Mostly, Bucky has no idea how the whole “talking about your problems” thing is supposed to help him, but sometimes his therapist has some really great ideas. Like getting a dog. Which is how Bucky meets Steve. Steve has blond hair and shoulders as broad as Bucky’s future if he wouldn’t suffer from depression and multiple mental disorders, and a waist as small as Bucky’s self-esteem. Steve also has a yellowish dog with floppy ears called Sunshine. And sunshine makes its way into Bucky’s life with a bounce in its step.”

a modern stucky fic which portrays depression in the best way i have seen in a fic so far. unfortunately, it has been orphaned before being finished :(

starker:

hey baby, slip between my beta-pleats and get to know my alpha-helix? By @starkerforlife6969​ and @darker-soft-starker​

“Even though Tony can't tell the difference between Manolo Blahnik and Jimmy Choo, Peter really has no other choice.

His heat is around the corner, so even though he loathes the party-going, booze drinking, smug playboy know-it-all that is Tony Stark-

He'll just have to do.”

if you asked me what my favorite starker fic of all time is, i’d tell you it’s this one

raising hybrid puppies by jaypendragon

“A non-powered Tony/Peter coffee shop AU with billionaire Tony and working-class, teenage Peter. Also, Toomes has a bakery and somehow Last Week Tonight is a genuine plot point.”

underage, slowburn, happy ending 

even though it’s one of the most notorious fics for the ship, i never read it until the summer. 

waiting for marriage by tuesday 

“In which Tony gets married and kidnapped in that order.

—

Tony Stark went to Vegas to cause a scandal.”

just super fun!

push you out (pull you back in) by @lovelystarker​

“So basically, Peter's kind of fucked. And not in the way that he wants to be-preferably by his mother's hot new boyfriend who has beautiful brown eyes and a disposition that's more than put-together. It wouldn't be so hard to ignore the crush, really it wouldn't, but Mr. Stark has practically moved in, so Peter can't avoid him if he wants to, and unlike his mom's past boyfriends, this one actually likes to spend time with him. So yeah, Peter's kind of fucked.”

just,,, wow. important to note that it is unfinished.

stucky:

you go to my head by alby_mangroves and brideofquiet

“Why would you do that for a man you don’t know?” Bucky asks.

Steve raises one slow eyebrow at him, then the other, till his expression turns from skepticism to disbelief. His forefinger and thumb reach into his shirt’s front pocket and draw out a wrinkled dollar bill.

Steve looks him in the eye when he says, very patiently, “For money, Bucky.”

40′s stucky is my favorite stucky

that boy is a problem by 2best friends

“In which a twinky little goth punk named Bucky puts a leash around Steve's dick and he's really into it.

(The leash is a metaphor. For now.)”

just porn

all the angels and the saints by speranza 

“In which Steve Rogers loses God and finds God and loses God, and also: Bucky.”

if it makes you cry, it’s probably good!

sugar sweet by colorcoated 

“College Student Bucky finds himself immediately attracted to Steve. He knows that Steve's a bit older than him, and that Steve himself is put off by the age difference. . . But that doesn't stop Bucky from wanting to climb him like a tree.”

the only slowburn i have tolerated 

my bucky by cleo4u2 and xantissa 

“Bucky finds a feral Alpha in the woods. Rather, the Alpha finds him. Bucky is sure it’s the end of his life as an independant Omega. It turns out to be the beginning of the strangest romance Bucky’s ever known.”

stony:

(i want you to see) the darkest side of me by ann2who

“In Monte Carlo, Steve meets the wealthy widower Anthony Stark. It’s love at first sight—at least for Steve—and he can’t believe his luck when Tony asks him to live at Stark Mansion, his large estate in Malibu. Never in his life had Steve thought something like this was possible… never had he been this happy. However, soon Steve realizes that Tony is still deeply troubled by the death of his first wife and haunted by the many ghosts she left behind. The longer Steve lives in her shadow, the more he understands that… He can never be what Tony’s wife had once been for him. And Tony might never truly love him.”

total mindfuck.

ironstrange:

let it be by lucifersfavoritechild

“While dealing with his son's car accident and a rapidly-dissolving marriage, Tony is drawn to Peter's surgeon, Dr. Stephen Strange.”

where severus snape is hot, not a stalker, and somehow gets the girl by utopiste

“Or: Peter Parker is sick and wants to cut his Neuroscience class. Tony just wants to help (and maybe date his son's hot teacher). Stephen Strange just wants to give his lecture in peace.”

miscellaneous:

geraskier: who needs plans anyways by NTK

“All witchers are alphas or betas by nature, since no omega has ever survived the Trial of the Grasses. Gerald has never had any problems with satisfying his needs on the occasional rut, for the whores from Poviss to Nilfgard were eager to be of service to a sturdy hunk like him. On the other hand, a certain omega/ bard/ occasional witcher tagalong has always made certain to acquire enough suppressants from local healers before setting out on a new adventure. That is, until the travels with his favourite White Wolf led the unlike pair into uncharted territory for longer than expected… life ensues”

philtriss: bound by sapphiresmoke

“Leashing involves a pupil being bound to their master in body, mind, and magic,” Philippa explained, folding her hands on the desk in front of her. “It is not something to undertake lightly, but if you accept, I will be able to share my magic with you, and instruct you in ways that would be otherwise be impossible if I were to only rely on verbal communication. It is intimate, it is at times invasive, but if you consent to this, Triss, it will make you vastlymore powerful, and from the look in your eyes, that seems to be exactly what you are looking for.”

vandermatthews: one more night like this would put me six feet under by jukeboxgraduate

“To be alongside the same person week after week, to share honesty and trust with someone day after day, is a rare treasure in a life that hinges on dishonesty. Hosea holds it close to his heart.”

din/cobb: every wave is a tidal if you hang around by wolfhalls 

“Din comes to Mos Pelgo, and finds a lot more than he was looking for.”

and finally, rough day by @no-droids​, because we all need to be a little indulgent sometimes.

[reallifesultanas]

Portrait of Ibrahim I / I. Ibrahim portréja

Birth and childhood

Ibrahim was born in October or November 1615 as the fourth son of Sultan Ahmed I and his favorite concubine, Mahpeyker Kösem Sultan. At his birth a total of seven (or eight) princes were before him in the line of succession to the throne: Ahmed I's younger brother, Prince Mustafa; Ibrahim's brothers: Osman, Mehmed, Murad, Bayezid, Hüseyin, Kasim, and there was a prince named Suleiman who was born about the same time. With such a background, it seemed almost impossible that Ibrahim could ever ascend the throne.

Ibrahim’s childhood was very difficult, as his father Ahmed I died in 1617 and for many years there were fights over the throne and a kind of hereditary chaos plagued the empire. The people were fed up with the fratricide, but Ahmed did not write a legal decree about who would follow him on the throne, his brother, Mustafa, or his eldest son, Osman. Eventually, with the accession of Mustafa, the inheritance officially changed, the throne no longer passed from father to son but was taken over by the oldest male. The following years were quite confusing, Mustafa was soon dethroned because of his mental illness, and Ibrahim's half-brother, Osman, ascended the throne. Osman was a very unpopular, bad ruler.

During the chaotic years, the child Ibrahim was torn from his mother, his sisters, and kept locked up with his brothers. Then, in 1621, his brother, Prince Mehmed, was executed by the then reigning sultan, Osman II. The death of his brother must have filled little Ibrahim and his brothers with terror. Not surprisingly, soon it became visible that Ibrahim was not completely mentally stable. The traumatic years made the young prince paranoid and unstable.

The reign of his full-brother, Murad IV, may have brought him some peace from 1623, as for about ten years their mother, Kösem Sultan, ruled the empire as regent and protected her sons with all her strength. It is important to mention, however, that Ibrahim practically had barely met his mother for six years from the age of two, so the reunion was less satisfying for him than to his older brothers, who could at least remember their mother.

The dread

We don’t know much about the daily life of Ibrahim and his brothers. Based on the surviving information, it is probable that while Kösem ruled as regent, although the princes lived locked up, they were not in complete isolation and could receive an education. However, the relative calm period ended soon, along with the regency of Kösem Sultan. In 1632, a Sipahi rebellion broke out, during which the rebels executed several loyal men of Sultan Murad. To make matters worse, the soldiers publicly demanded that Murad should show them his younger brothers. Murad was forced to give in to the demands and introduced his younger brothers. Ibrahim and his brothers could then face up that as long as they exist, they would always be dangerous to Murad, and this threatened their own lives.

Murad was also traumatized by their difficult childhood, which made him a tough and tyrant ruler. Unsurprisingly, he considered Selim I as his role model and tried to follow him in everything. This is why he wanted to bring back the old order of succession so that after his death his son would follow him on the throne, and not one of his younger brothers. In addition, Murad was deteriorating mentally and physically, so he began to become paranoid and saw conspiracy against him in everything. After the victory of Revan in 1635, while the people celebrated he ordered the execution of his two half-brothers, Prince Bayezid and Suleiman. The already unstable Ibrahim was certainly pushed further down the slope by this tragedy.

One of the last things that ruined Ibrahim’s common sense came in 1638, when after the victorious campaign in Baghdad, Murad executed his full-brother, Kasim, who was said to be the closest to him among his brothers. According to some sources, Ibrahim was also present in the Revan Pavilion, where the execution took place and his life was saved only by the supplication of Kösem Sultan due to his mental illness. Others said Murad did not even try to execute Ibrahim at that time. Either way, it must have been hard for Ibrahim that his brothers died next to him in a row, and his only brother, Murad, was more unpredictable.

His accession to the throne

After the execution of Kasim, Murad's health deteriorated for months. He had a chronic illness, but we don’t know much about it. Some said he may have had epilepsy, others said he may have had similar digestive problems as his father (Ahmed I) and grandmother (Handan Sultan). These were further aggravated by combat injuries, as Murad himself fought in his campaigns; and cirrhosis due to alcoholism. Murad was able to recover from his combat injuries, as in early 1640 he celebrated Ramadan without any problems, met his vezirs, and took part in events. In fact, to further tire his sick body, he regularly rode and alcoholized with his friends. On one such occasion, Murad lost consciousness and was taken back to Topkapi Palace by his bodyguards. According to some, on his deathbed, Murad ordered the execution of Ibrahim, but there is no evidence of this.

As Murad passed away, the throne passed to the oldest (and in this case the only) heir, Ibrahim. Grand Vizier Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasha went to Ibrahim's apartment, telling him that Murad was dead, so he had the throne. However, Ibrahim did not believe him. The mourning Kösem Sultan then tried to talk to her son, but Ibrahim did not trust anyone after the tragedies of recent years, so he refused to leave his apartment and ascend the throne. He thought the whole thing was just Murad’s intrigue, and if he left his apartment he would be executed immediately. Ibrahim wanted to present himself as a faithful and humble brother, so he refused to come out on any request or order. Finally, Kösem Sultan ordered that the dead body of Murad should be taken to Ibrahim. Even then, Ibrahim did not believe, he examined the body thoroughly to make sure Murad was dead. Eventually, Ibrahim realized that he was the new ruler and ascended the throne.

The accession of Ibrahim to the throne in 1640 did not solve the greatest problem of the dynasty, the question of the heir. After Murad systematically murdered his brothers and his sons died of natural causes, Ibrahim was the only heir. New princes were needed as soon as possible, but Ibrahim showed no interest in women and sexuality. Some said he was afraid of having a child because he was afraid Murad would execute him then, others said he simply didn’t care. They tried in every way possible to arouse the sultan's sexual desire, made pornographic depictions for him, and offered him aphrodisiacs. The persistent endeavor eventually became successful, with his first son (and presumably his first or second child), Mehmed, born in January 1642. Legend has it that the aphrodisiacs had such a strong effect on the Sultan that he organized arranged orgies for himself, and there were several reports of various perversions.

The birth of Prince Mehmed was followed in turn by the other children, Gevherhan (1642?), Suleiman (1642), Fatma (1642?), Ahmed (1643), Murad (1643), Atike (?), Selim (1644), Osman (1644) , Beyhan (1645?), Ayşe (1646?), Kaya (?), Ümmügülsüm (?) and at least two anonymous sultanas. It can be seen, that Ibrahim’s initial dread of women soon dissipated as in a short time he produced an extremely large number of children. Ibrahim was not a very good father to his children. He was often unpredictable due to his unstable mental state. This is well exemplified by an event around 1645 when he quarreled with Prince Mehmed's mother, Turhan Hatice. Turhan Hatice complained that the sultan did not care for Mehmed, but instead played a lot with the son of the wet-nurse, whom he raised and cherished as his own. The couple's quarrel escalated to the point where Ibrahim, in his rage, threw away Prince Mehmed, who had suffered a serious head injury in the cistern and wore its mark on his forehead for the rest of his life.

Ibrahim and women

The foregoing events already suggest that Ibrahim did not have a nice relationship with his firstborn son's mother. According to some, after the abuse of Mehmed, the relationship between Turhan and Ibrahim was completely severed. It nuances the picture somewhat that it seems that in addition to Mehmed, Turhan gave birth to at least one other child to Ibrahim, Atike Sultan. The date of birth for Atike is unknown, so it is difficult to determine whether she was born before or after the incident.

In addition to Turhan, Ibrahim had seven other Hasekis, with which he practically destroyed the power of Haseki title, since the mother of all his children had this title. Two of the Hasekis stand out, Şivekar was an Armenian concubine who was able to gain serious political influence by being able to influence Ibrahim anytime, anywhere. Şivekar is also an interesting concubine because her existence proves one of Ibrahim's perversions. For the sultan, having once seen a cow from behind he decided that he wanted to acquire the fattest woman in the empire, as it might best resemble a cow. In the end, it was Şivekar who met the parameters, so she got into the sultan's harem. The other special Haseki was Telli Hümaşah, who twisted Ibrahim around her finger so much that the sultan married her. Hümaşah’s prominent position is well illustrated by the fact that Ibrahim assigned his own full-sisters and niece to serve Hümaşah.

It is a well-known legend that Ibrahim took away one of his deceased brothers, Murad IV's concubine. There is no clear evidence to support or refute this. Some say this concubine was none other than Ayşe Haseki, Murad’s favorite, who asked for the sultan’s favor in the matter of marrying off her daughter and then the sultan tried to rape her in exchange for the favor. Others say it happened to an insignificant concubine, but there are also those who say the rape case did not happen because when Ibrahim asked Sultan Murad's former concubine the woman refused the order and turned to the harem leader who, along with Kösem Sultan, forbade the sultan to touch the concubine of his deceased brother.

In addition to the former story, however, it is certain that Ibrahim kidnapped or forced Hazerpare Ahmed Pasha’s wife to be his favorite. Some say the woman received the orphaned Beyhan Sultan to raise her. Another time, Ibrahim wanted to take the daughter of Seyhülislam Muid Ahmed Efendi to his harem. When Seyhülislam did not allow this, Ibrahim abducted the girl from a public bath. Some said he raped her, others said the sultan was stopped just in time. In any case in the end Ibrahim sent the girl back to his father soon after.

In addition to his concubines, harem servants also successfully influenced the sultan, such as Şekerpare, who, with his sweet manner, was able to persuade the sultan to do anything and who gained immense wealth and influence. Not surprisingly, Ibrahim’s tragic end was ultimately caused by his influenceability. His concubines only influenced the Sultan in relatively harmless things, but soon he came under the influence of a much more dangerous person.

The ruler

We cannot really talk about Ibrahim as a ruler. Because of his mental condition, his mother, Kösem Sultan, and Murad IV's last Grand Vezier, Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasha, ruled in his place. Although Kösem Sultan and Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasha were not in a good relationship and even constantly rivaled each other, they still worked excellently together for the sake of the empire. Ibrahim, although was not capable to rule alone, tried to live up to expectations in the first few years of his reign. He constantly followed the events, regularly negotiating with the Grand Vizier, for which his handwritten letters also serve as a good example. These letters from Ibrahim are significant because it shows that Ibrahim was properly educated, was not weak-minded, so he was actually only struggling with mental illnesses caused by trauma.

Ibrahim's early reign was therefore hopeful in relation to his condition. He did not replace his brother's former leaders, his pashas, ​​so in fact, the change of sultan took place very simply and everything could go as before, which was very positive for the empire. Over time, however, he came under the influence of a certain Cinci Hoca and rebelled against his mother. Cinci Hoca was an occult science charlatan who considered himself a religious leader. Cinci Hoca convinced the sultan in various ways that he could cure his headaches and mental problems. Instead, he took advantage of Ibrahim’s credulity and amassed a huge fortune for himself and his supporters. Events eventually deteriorated to the point where, without any experience or aptitude, Cinci Hoca was appointed by the Sultan as Chief Kadi; Cinci Hoca's faithful companion, Silahdar Yusuf Aga, became the Grand Admiral. Cinci Hoca's greatest opponent was Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasha, the Grand Vizier, so he constantly spoke against him, as a result of which the Sultan executed Kemankeş Pasha in 1644. Kemankeş Pasha was replaced by another supporter of Cinci Hoca, Sultanzade Mehmed Pasha. Sultanzade Mehmed Pasha was, by the way, the son of Ayşe Hanimsultnasa, thus the grandson of Ayşe Hümaşah Sultan and the great-grandson of the Mihrimah Sultan and Rüstem Pasha.

By getting under the spell of unfit persons, Ibrahim started to destroy the state, which formerly was great, led by Murad’s pashas. Over time, Ibrahim replaced all of Murad’s previous pashas and replaced them with his own confidants who were unable to manage properly. Similarly, people’s displeasure was triggered by the launch of another costly campaign. In 1644, Maltese pirates attacked an Ottoman ship on which, in addition to the chief black eunuch, the son of Prince Mehmed's wet-nurse, whom Ibrahim loved and cherished more than his own son, was present. Under the pretext of attack, the Fifth Venetian-Ottoman War broke out in 1645 and lasted for 24 years.

Shortly after Kemankeş was executed, Ibrahim also exiled his mother, Kösem Sultan. He originally intended to send his mother to the island of Rhodes, but eventually, his concubines persuaded him to send her only to another palace. Over time, dissatisfaction grew, and more and more people turned to Kösem Sultan in exile for help. Kösem Sultan's well-known letter to Hezarpare Ahmed Pasha - whose wife had previously been abducted by the Sultan - was written this period. The letter says "In the end he will leave neither you nor me alive. We will lose control of the government. The whole society is in ruins. Have him removed from the throne immediately." The letter is a good indication that Ibrahim’s insane rule threatened more and more people. The sultan executed people for almost no reason and gave high positions to those who were completely unfit. More and more people turned against Ibrahim and it was increasingly likely that he would not be able to stay on the throne for long.

The end

The situation deteriorated to the point that in 1647 Kösem Sultan and the new Grand Vizier, Salih Pasha and Seyhülislam Abdürrahim Efendi, tried to dethrone Ibrahim but failed. Salih Pasha was executed and Kösem Sultan remained in exile. The following year, both the Janissaries and the Ulema joined the rebellion, and on August 8, 1648, the mad sultan was easily dethroned and imprisoned. Then due to the evidence, Kösem Sultan returned to the palace. She there received a letter from the leading statesmen, asking her to give them Prince Mehmed so they can make him sultan in the Janissary Mosque. Kösem Sultan rejected the request and asking the leaders to go to the palace and let's discuss the situation. Kösem Sultan personally welcomed them at the second gate - without any kind of paravane, just veiled - and argued at length for them why they should leave Ibrahim in his position. She told them that the sultan had only followed the advice of bad people, so it was enough to get rid of these advisors. It is doubtful that Kösem Sultan really thought so or simply felt that this was expected of her as Ibrahim’s mother. The latter can be inferred from her earlier letter in which she clearly stated that Ibrahim should be dethroned; and that, after two hours of discourse, Kösem Sultan agreed to the ascension of Mehmedm, barely six and a half years old. It is important to note, however, that based on the recorded speech of Kösem Sultan, she only agreed to Ibrahim’s dethronement due to compulsion. Kösem Sultan for concluding the discourse with the following sentence: "All are united in the opinion that the Sultan must be deposed; it is impossible to do otherwise. You tell me that if I don't hand over the Prince, they will enter the palace and take him by force." So whatever she felt or thought, Kösem showed outwardly that she was trying to protect her son as a mother.

Ibrahim's followers were removed from their positions at the same time as the sultan's dethronement happened, and most of them were executed. Then they had to decide the fate of Sultan Ibrahim soon, but it was not easy. There used to be a mad sultan who was simply closed up after his dethronement, so this could have been possible in the case of Ibrahim. However, Ibrahim caused too much pain to the people, executed too many, and simply had too many supporters to keep him alive. Eventually, the new Grand Vizier, Sofu Mehmed Pasha, asked the Seyhülislam Efendi to allow the execution of Ibrahim. Seyhülislam allowed it. Some say Kösem Sultan also agreed to the execution, others said was not notified until the last minute so she could not prevent it. Finally, Ibrahim was strangled on August 18, 1648. According to the descriptions, when the execution squad entered the sultan's room, he, clutching the Qur’an, asked to be shown which line of the Qur’an suggests his execution. He said that if they show it to him, he would surrender. Of course, this was not possible, one of the executioners threw the noose around the neck of the sultan from behind. Like his dethroned mad predecessor, Mustafa I, he was also buried in Aya Sofya.

Used sources: A. D. Alderson - The Structure of the Ottoman Dynasty; L. Peirce - The Imperial Harem: Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire; N. Sakaoğlu - Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları; M. Ç. Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları; C. Finkel - Osman's Dream: The Story of the Ottoman Empire; G. Börekçi - Factions and favourites at the courts of Sultan Ahmed I (r. 1603-17) and his immediate predecessors; S. Faroqhi - The Ottoman Empire and the World; C. Imber - The Ottoman Empire 1300-1650; G. Piterberg - An Ottoman Tragedy, History and Historiography at Play; F. Suraiya - The Cambridge History of Turkey, The Later Ottoman Empire, 1603–1839; Howard - A History of the Ottoman Empire; Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar; F. Davis - The Palace of Topkapi in Istanbul; Y. Öztuna - Genç Osman ve IV. Murad; G. Junne - The black eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire; R. Dankoff - An Ottoman Mentality: The World of Evliya Çelebi; R. Murphey - ‘The Functioning of the Ottoman Army under Murad IV (1623–1639/1032–1049):Key to Understanding of the Relationship Between Center and Periphery

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Születése és gyermekkora

Ibrahim 1615 októberében vagy novemberében született I. Ahmed szultán és kedvenc ágyasa, Mahpeyker Köszem szultána negyedik közös fiaként. Születésekor összesen hét (vagy nyolc) herceg állt előtte a trónöröklési sorban: I. Ahmed öccse, Musztafa herceg; Ibrahim bátyjai: Oszmán, Mehmed, Murad, Bayezid, Hüseyin, Kasim és Ibrahimmal nagyjából egyszerre született egy Szulejmán nevű herceg is. Ilyen háttérrel szinte kizártnak tűnt, hogy Ibrahim valaha is trónra kerülhet.

Ibrahim gyermekkora igen hányatott volt, hiszen 1617-ben édesapja I. Ahmed elhunyt és hosszú éveken át trónviszályok dúltak és egyfajta örökösödési káosz sújtotta a birodalmat. Az embereknek elege volt a testvérgyilkosságból, azonban Ahmed nem rendelkezett arról, hogy ki kövesse őt a trónon, öccse, Musztafa vagy legidősebb fia, Oszmán. Végül Musztafa trónralépésével hivatalosan is megváltozott az örökösödés, többé nem apáról fiúra szállt a trón, hanem a legidősebb férfi foglalta el azt. A következő évek meglehetősen zavarosak voltak, Musztafát mentális betegsége miatt hamarosan trónfosztották és Ibrahim féltestvére, Oszmán került a trónra. Oszmán nagyon népszerűtlen, rossz uralkodó volt.

A kaotikus évekből a gyermek Ibrahim minden bizonnyal annyit érzékelt, hogy elszakították édesanyjától, lánytestvéreitől és elzárva tartották fiú testvéreivel együtt. 1621-ben aztán édesbátyját, Mehmed herceget kivégeztette az akkor regnáló II. Oszmán. Bátyja halála bizonyára rettegéssel töltötte el a kis Ibrahimot és testvéreit. Nem meglepő hát, hogy Ibrahimról hamarosan kiderült, mentálisan nem teljesen ép. A traumatikus évek paranioássá és instabillá tették a fiatal herceget.

Némi nyugalmat hozhatott neki bátyja, IV. Murad 1623-as trónralépése, hiszen innentől nagyjából tíz évig édesanyjuk, Köszem szultána uralta a birodalmat régensként és minden erejével fiait védelmezte. Fontos azonban megemlíteni, hogy Ibrahim gyakorlatilag két éves korától kezdve hat éven át szinte alig találkozott édesanyjával, így bizonyára nem töltötte el akkora nyugalommal és megkönnyebbüléssel az újraegyesülés, mint idősebb testvéreit, akik legalább emlékezhettek anyjukra.

A rettegés

Nem sokat tudunk Ibrahim és testvérei mindennapjair��l. A fennmaradt információk alapján valószínűsíthető, hogy míg Köszem régensként uralkodott a hercegek bár elzárva éltek, nem teljes izolációban voltak és oktatásban is részesülhettek. A relatív nyugalom azonban hamarosan, Köszem régensségével együtt végleg a múlté lett. 1632-ben szpáhi lázadás tört ki, melynek során a lázadók kivégezték a nagyvezírt és Murad szultán több hűséges emberét. Hogy a helyzet tovább bonyolódjon a katonák nyilvánosan követelték, hogy Murad mutassa meg nekik öccseit. Ezzel jelezni akarták neki, hogy ha akarnák le tudnák cserélni valamelyik öccsére; másrészt pedig keringtek olyan alaptalan pletykák, hogy Murad és Köszem megszabadultak a hercegektől. Murad kénytelen volt engedni a követeléseknek és bemutatta öccseit, akiket a katonák ekkor éltetni kezdtek. Ibrahim és testvérei ekkor szembesülhettek azzal testközelből, hogy amíg csak léteznek, mindig veszélyesek lesznek Muradra, ez pedig saját testiépségüketis fenyegette.

Muradot szintén megviselte nehéz gyermekkoruk, ami miatt kemény kézzel uralkodott. Nem meglepő, ha példaképének I. Szelimet tartotta és őt próbálta követni mindenben, így a régi öröklési rendet is vissza akarta hozni, hogy halála után fia kövesse a trónon, ne pedig öccsei közül valaki. Emellett Murad mentálisan és fizikailag is egyre rosszabb állapotban volt, így kezdett paranoiddá válni és mindenben konspirációt látott személye ellen. Ezek együttesen okozták azt, hogy 1635-ben a győztes revani hadjárata után, míg az emberek ünnepeltek ő elrendelte két féltestvére, Bayezid és Szulejmán hercegek kivégzését. Az egyébként is labilis Ibrahimot minden bizonnyal továb taszította ez a tragédia a lejtőn.

Az Ibrahim józaneszét tönkretévő egyik utolsó dolog 1638-ban következett be, mikor a győztes bagdadi hadjárata után Murad kivégeztette édestestvérét, Kasimot is, aki állítólag testvérei közül legközelebb állt hozzá. Egyes források szerint Ibrahim is jelen volt a Revan Pavilonban, ahol a kivégzés történt és az ő életét csak Köszem szultána könyörgése és elborult mentális állapota mentette meg. Mások szerint Murad meg sem próbálta kivégeztetni Ibrahimot ekkor. Akárhogyan is, minden bizonnyal megviselte Ibrahimot, hogy testvérei sorra fogytak el mellőle, egyetlen bátyja, Murad pedig egyre rosszabb állapotba került és egyre kiszámíthatatlanabb lett.

Trónralépése

IV. Murad Kasim halálát követően egyre rosszabb egészségi állapotban volt, hónapokon keresztül nyomta az ágyat. Több alapbetegsége is volt, azonban ezekről nem tudunk sokat. Egyesek szerint epilepsziás lehetett, mások szerint neki is hasonló emésztőrendszeri problémái lehettek, mint apjának (I. Ahmed) és nagyanyjának (Handan szultána). Ezeket tovább súlyosbították a harci sérülések, hiszen Murad maga is harcolt a hadjáratain; valamint az alkoholizmusa miatt kialakuló májzsugor. Murad harci sérüléseiből képes volt felépülni, ugyanis 1640 elején a Ramadánt minden gond nélkül ünnepelte, találkozott a vezíreivel, rendezvényeken vett részt. Sőt, hogy tovább fárassza beteg testét rendszeresen járt lovagolni és alkoholizálni barátaihoz. Egyik ilyen alkalommal Murad elvesztette az eszméletét és testőrei vitték vissza a Topkapi Palotába. Egyesek szerint halálos ágyán Murad kiadta a parancsot Ibrahim kivégzésére is, ám erre nincs bizonyíték.

Ahogy Murad elhunyt, a trón a legidősebb (és jelen esetben egyetlen) örökösre szállt, Ibrahimra. A nagyvezír Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasa ment Ibrahim lezárt lakrészébe, elmondta neki, hogy Murad meghalt, így övé a trón. Ibrahim azonban nem hitt neki. Ezekután a gyászoló Köszem szultána próbált meg beszélni fiával, de Ibrahim az elmúlt évek tragédiái után senkiben sem bízott, így megtagadta, hogy elhagyja lakrészét és elfoglalja a trónt. Úgy vélte az egész csak Murad cselszövése, és ha elhagyja lakrészét azonnal kivégzik. Ibrahim hűséges és alázatos testvérnek akarta mutatni magát, így semmilyen kérlelésre és parancsra nem volt hajlandó kijönni lakrészéből. Végül Köszem szultána úgy rendelkezett, hogy Murad holttestét vigyék be Ibrahimhoz. Ibrahim még ekkor sem nyugodott meg, alaposan megvizsgálta a testet, hogy biztos legyen benne, Murad elhunyt. Végül Ibrahim felfogta, hogy ő az új uralkodó és elfoglalta a trónt.

Ibrahim 1640-es trónralépésével nem oldódott meg a dinasztia legnagyobb problémája, az örökös kérdése. Miután Murad szisztematikusan kiírtotta testvéreit, fiai pedig természetes okból hunytak el, Ibrahim volt az egyetlen örökös. Mielőbb szükség volt új hercegekre, Ibrahim azonban semmilyen érdeklődést nem mutatott a nők és a szexualitás iránt. Egyesek szerint rettegett attól, hogy gyermeket nemzzen, mert félt, hogy akkor Murad kivégezteti őt, mások szerint egyszerűen nem érdekelte a dolog. Minden létező módon igyekeztek felkelteni a szultán szexuális vágyát, pornográf ábrázolásokat készítettek számára, afrodiziákumokat szolgáltak fel neki. A kitartó próbálkozás végül eredményes lett, 1642 januárjában megszületett első fia (és feltehetőleg első vagy második gyermeke), Mehmed. A legendák úgy vélik, hogy a vágyserkentők olyan erősen hatottak a szultánra, hogy előfordult, orgiákat rendezett magának és több beszámoló szerint is különböző perverzió voltak.

Mehmed herceg születését sorra követte a többi gyermek, Gevherhan (1642?), Szulejmán (1642), Fatma (1642?), Ahmed (1643), Murad (1643), Atike (?), Selim (1644), Osman (1644), Beyhan(1645?), Ayşe (1646?), Kaya (?), Ümmügülsüm (?) és legalább két névtelen szultána. Látható tehát, hogy Ibrahim kezdeti rettegése a nőktől hamarosan feloldódott és rövid időn belül extrém sok gyermeket nemzett. A gyerekekkel szemben Ibrahim nem volt túl jó apa. Instabil mentális állapota miatt gyakran volt kiszámíthatatlan. Ezt jól példázza egy 1645 körüli esemény is, mikor összevitatkozott Mehmed herceg édesanyjával Turhan Haticével. Turhan Hatice nehezményezte, hogy a szultán nem törődik Mehmeddel, ellenben sokat játszik a szoptatósdajka fiával, akit sajátjaként nevel és dédelget. A pár veszekedése odáig fajult, hogy Ibrahim dühében elhajította Mehmed herceget, aki a ciszternába esve komoly fejsérülést szenvedett és élete végéig viselte nyomát a homlokán.

Ibrahim és a nők

Arra már az előbbi események is utalnak, hogy Ibrahimnak nem volt felhőtlen a viszonya elsőszülött fia anyjával. Egyesek szerint a Mehmedet ért bántalmazás után Turhan és Ibrahim kapcsolata teljesen megszakadt. Némileg árnyalja a képet, hogy olybá tűnik Turhan Mehmed mellett még legalább egy gyermeket szült Ibrahimnak, Atike szultánát. Atike szultána születési ideje nem ismert, így nehéz megállapítani, hogy még az incidens előtt vagy már az után született.

Ibrahimnak Turhan mellett hét másik Haszekije is volt, mellyel gyakorlatilag elvette a Haszeki rang súlyát, hiszen minden gyermekének anyja megkapta ezt a titulust. A Haszekik közül ketten emelkednek ki, Şivekar egy örmény ágyas, aki komoly politikai befolyást tudott magának szerezni azzal, hogy bármikor, bármiben képes volt befolyásolni Ibrahimot. Şivekar azért is érdekes ágyas, mert létezése bizonyítja Ibrahim egyik perverzióját. A szultán ugyanis miután egyszer látott egy tehenet hátulról úgy döntött, hogy a birodalom legkövérebb nőjét akarja megszerezni magának, hiszen az hasonlíthat legjobban a tehénhez. Végül Şivekar volt az, aki megfelelt a paramétereknek, így került a szultán háremébe. A másik különleges Haszeki Telli Hümaşah volt, aki olyannyira az ujjaköré csavarta Ibrahimot, hogy a szultán feleségül is vette. Telli Hümaşah kiemelt pozícióját jól mutatja, hogy Ibrahim saját édestestvéreit és unokahúgát osztotta be Telli Hümaşah mellé szolgálónak.

Jól ismert legenda, miszerint Ibrahim megerőszakolta elhunyt bátyja, IV. Murad egyik ágyasát. Nincsenek egyértelmű bizonyítékok, amik alátámasztanák vagy cáfolnák ezt. Egyesek szerint ez az ágyas nem volt más, mint Ayşe Haszeki, Murad kedvence, aki a szultán szívességét kérte lánya kiházasításának ügyében, majd a szultán megpróbálta őt megerőszakolni a szívességért cserébe. Mások szerint egy jelentéktelen ágyassal történt mindez, de olyanok is vannak, akik szerint az erőszakra nem került sor, mert mikor Ibrahim kérette Murad szultán egykori ágyasát a nő megtagadta a parancsot és a hárem vezetőhöz fordult segítségül, aki Köszem szultánával együtt megtiltotta a szultánnak, hogy elhunyt tesvtére ágyasához érjen.

Előbbi történet mellett azonban az bizonyos, hogy Ibrahim elrabolta vagy kényszerítette Hazerpare Ahmed Pasa feleségét, hogy legyen a kegyeltje. Egyesek szerint az asszony megkapta az elárvult Beyhan szultánát, hogy nevelje. Máskor pedig Ibrahim, a Seyhülislam Muid Ahmed Efendi lányát akarta háremébe vitetni. Mikor a Seyhülislam ezt nem engedte, Ibrahim egy fürdőből elraboltatta a lányt. Egyesek szerint megbecstelenítette, mások szerint még időben jobb belátásra bírták a szultánt, aki kétségkívül visszaküldte a lányt apjához nemsokkal később.

Ágyasai mellett hárem szolgálók is sikerrel befolyásolták a szultánt, így Şekerpare, aki negédes modorával bármire rá tudta venni a szultánt és aki hatalmas vagyonra és befolyásra tett szert. Nem meglepő, hogy Ibrahim vesztét is végül befolyásolhatósága okozta. Ágyasai viszonylag ártalmatlan dolgokban befolyásolták csak a szultánt, amit a legtöbben még elnéztek neki. Hamarosan azonban egy sokkal veszedelmesebb ember befolyása alá került.

Az uralkodó

Ibrahimról, mint uralkodóról nem igazán beszélhetünk. Mentális állapota miatt édesanyja, Köszem szultána és IV. Murad utolsó nagyvezíre, Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasa uralkodott helyette. Bár Köszem és Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasa nem voltak jóban, sőt állandóan rivalizáltak egymással, a birodalom érdekében mégis kiválóan dolgoztak együtt. Ibrahim, bár maga nem volt alkalmas az uralkodásra, trónralépése utáni pár évben igyekezett megfelelni az elvárásoknak. Állandóan követte az eseményeket, rendszeresen tárgyalt a nagyvezírrel, melyre kézzel írt levelei is jó példaként szolgálnak. Ibrahim ezen levelei azért jelentősek, mert kitűnik belőle, hogy Ibrahim megfelelő oktatásban részesült, nem volt gyengeelméjű, tehát ténylegesen csak a traumák okozta mentális betegségekkel küzdött.

Ibrahim korai uralma tehát állapotához képest reménykeltő volt. Nem cserélte le bátyja korábbi vezíreit, pasáit, így tulajdonképpen nagyon egyszerűen zajlott le a szultánváltás és minden mehetett a korábbiak szerint, ami a birodalom szempontjából igen pozitív volt. Idővel azonban egy bizonyos Cinci Hoca befolyása alá került és fellázadt anyja uralma ellen. Cinci Hoca okkult tudományokkal foglalkozó sarlatán volt, aki magát vallási vezetőnek tekintette. Cinci Hoca különböző módszerekkel meggyőzte a szultánt arról, hogy képes gyógyítani fejfájását és mentális problémáit. Helyette kihasználta Ibrahim hiszékenységét és hatalmas vagyont halmozott fel magának és támogatóinak. Az események végül odáig fajultak, hogy minden tapasztalat és alkalmasság nélkül Cinci Hocát nevezte ki a szultán a főkádinak; Cinci Hoca hű társát, Silahdar Yusuf Agát pedig a főtengernaggyá tette meg. Cinci Hoca legnagyobb ellenfelének Kemankeş Kara Mustafa Pasát, a nagyvezírt tekintette és állandóan ellene beszélt, minek eredményeképpen a szultán 1644-ben a kivégeztette Kemankeş Pasát. Kemankeş Pasa helyére Cinci Hoca egy másik támogatóját Sultanzade Mehmed Pasát nevezte ki Ibrahim. Sultanzade Mehmed Pasa egyébként Ayşe Hanimszultána fia volt, tehát Ayşe Hümaşah szultána unokája és Mihrimah szultána dédunokája.

Azzal, hogy Ibrahim alkalmatlan személyek bűvkörébe került azt történt, hogy a korábban Murad pasái által nagyszerűen vezetett állam az összeomláshoz közeledett. Ibrahim idővel leváltotta Murad összes korábbi pasáját és saját bizalmasaival helyettesítette őket, akik nem voltak képesek megfelelően irányítani. Hasonlóan az emberek nemtetszését váltotta ki egy újabb költséges hadjárat indítása. 1644-ben máltai kalózok támadtak egy oszmán hajóra, melyen a fő fekete eunuch mellett jelen volt Mehmed herceg szoptatósdajkájának fia is, akit Ibrahim a saját fiánál, Mehmednél jobban szeretett és dédelgetett. A támadás ürügyén 1645-ben kirobbant az ötödik velencei-oszmán háború, mely 24 évig tartott.

Ibrahim nemsokkal Kemankeş kivégzése után édesanyját is száműzte. Eredetileg Rodosz szigetére szándékozta küldeni anyját, de végül ágyasai meggyőzték, hogy csak egy másik palotába küldje. Idővel egyre nőtt az elégedetlenség, egyre többen fordultak a száműzetésben lévő Köszem szultánához, hogy segítségét kérjék. Köszem valószínűleg széműzetésében írta meg jól ismert levelét is Hezarpare Ahmed Pasának - akinek feleségét a szultán korábban elrabolta -, mely így szólt: "Végül sem titeket, sem engem nem hagyna életben és újra elveszítenénk az uralmat az állam felett, ezzel pedig lerombolnánk társadalmunkat." A levél jól jelzi, hogy Ibrahim őrült uralma egyre többeket veszélyeztett. A szultán szinte minden ok nélkül végeztetett ki embereket, és teljesen alkalmatlanoknak adott magas beosztást. Egyre többen fordultak Ibrahim ellen és egyre valószínűbb volt, hogy nem maradhat sokáig a trónon.

A vég

Odáig fajult a helyzet, hogy 1647-ben Köszem szultána és az új nagyvezír, Salih Pasa és a Seyhülislam Abdürrahim Efendi megpróbálták trónfosztani Ibrahimot, azonban lebuktak. Salih Pasát kivégeztették, Köszem pedig száműzetésben maradt. A következő évben aztán a janicsárok és az ulema is csatlakozott a lázadáshoz és 1648. augusztus 8-án könnyűszerrel trónfosztották és bebörtönözték az őrült szultánt. Ekkor Köszem a bizonyítékok alapján visszatért a palotába, hiszen ott kapta meg a vezető államférfiak levelét, miszerint adja ki nekik Mehmed herceget, hogy a janicsár mecsetben szultánukká tegyék őt. Köszem elutasította a kérést és arra kérte a vezetőket, hogy menjenek a palotába, hogy megvitassák a helyzetet. Köszem személyesen fogadta a második kapunál az odasereglőket - minden fajta paraván nélkül, csupán elfátyolozva - és hosszasan érvelt nekik arról, hogy miért kellene meghagyniuk Ibrahimot a pozíciójában. Elmondta nekik, hogy a szultán csak rossz emberek tanácsát követte, így elég azoktól megszabadulni. Kétséges, hogy Köszem valóban így gondolta vagy egyszerűen úgy érezte, hogy Ibrahim anyjaként ezt várják tőle. Utóbbira enged következtetni korábbi levele és hogy két órányi diskurzus után Köszem beleegyezett az alig hat és fél éves Mehmed trónra ületetésébe. Fontos azonban megjegyezni, hogy Köszem rögzített beszéde alapján Köszem csak kényszer miatt ment bele Ibrahim trónfosztásába. Köszem a következő mondattal zárta le a diskurzust: "Mind egyetértetek tehát, hogy a szultánt trónfosztani kell, lehetetlen bármi más megoldás. Azt kéritek tőle, adjam át nektek Mehmed herceget és ha nem teszem erőszakkal viszitek ki a palotából." Így bármit érzett is vagy gondolt is Köszem, kifelé azt mutatta, hogy édesanyaként próbálja védeni fiát.

Ibrahim követőit a szultán trónfosztásával egy időben eltávoltották a pozícióikból, majd legtöbbüket ki is végezték. Ibrahim szultán sorsáról is hamarosan dönteniük kellett, azonban ez nem volt egyszerű. Korábban már volt egy őrült szultán, akit trónfosztása után egyszerűen csak elzártak, erre Ibrahim esetében is lehetett volna tehát lehetőség. Ibrahim azonban túl sokaknak okozott fájdalmat, túl sokakat végeztetett ki és egyszerűen túl sok támogatója volt ahhoz, hogy életben hagyják. Végül az új nagyvezír, Sofu Mehmed Pasa kérvényezte a Seyhülislam Efenditől, hogy engedélyezze Ibrahim kivégzését. A Seyhülislam engedélyezte. Egyesek szerint Köszem szultána is beleegyezett a kivégzésbe, mások szerint az utolsó pillanatig nem értesítették, nehogy megakadályozhassa azt. Végül Ibrahimot 1648. augusztus 18-án megfojtották. A leírások szerint amikor a kivégzőosztag belépett a szultánhoz, az a Koránt szorongatva azt kérte, mutassák meg neki, hogy a Korán mely sorára hivatkozva akarják kivégezni és ha megteszik megadja magát. Erre természetesen nem volt mód, az egyik kivégző hátulról rádobta a hurkot a szultán nyakára. Hasonlóan trónfosztott őrült elődjéhez, őt is az Aya Sofyában temették el, mint I. Musztafát.

Felhasznált források: A. D. Alderson - The Structure of the Ottoman Dynasty; L. Peirce - The Imperial Harem: Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire; N. Sakaoğlu - Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları; M. Ç. Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları; C. Finkel - Osman's Dream: The Story of the Ottoman Empire; G. Börekçi - Factions and favourites at the courts of Sultan Ahmed I (r. 1603-17) and his immediate predecessors; S. Faroqhi - The Ottoman Empire and the World; C. Imber - The Ottoman Empire 1300-1650; G. Piterberg - An Ottoman Tragedy, History and Historiography at Play; F. Suraiya - The Cambridge History of Turkey, The Later Ottoman Empire, 1603–1839; Howard - A History of the Ottoman Empire; Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar; F. Davis - The Palace of Topkapi in Istanbul; Y. Öztuna - Genç Osman ve IV. Murad; G. Junne - The black eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire; R. Dankoff - An Ottoman Mentality: The World of Evliya Çelebi; R. Murphey - ‘The Functioning of the Ottoman Army under Murad IV (1623–1639/1032–1049):Key to Understanding of the Relationship Between Center and Periphery

[f0rever15elf]

I Just Need Five Minutes: Part 1

Part 1 of the Maxwell Lord “I Just Need Five Minutes” Series: Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4, Part 5 (Coming soon) Pairing: Maxwell Lord x f!reader Wordcount: 2,325 Rating: G  Warnings: Death mentions Part 2 (Coming soon...)

Summary: Lord Corp has become the top business contender on the global stage, lead by none other than Maxwell Lord IV. His rise to glory has taken him from the lives of those he once loved, and you can only watch as he slips further and further out of reach. You had to stop it, before it was too late. You had to get inside. 

A/N: This story is going to call a little bit on the comic book backstory of Maxwell Lord IV, most of which can be found in his wiki article, if you’re interested. I’m excited to write for Maxwell, his character has so much potential. And hopefully this will tide me over since the movie release has been delayed again.

Masterlist  |  Ao3

He was a genius. Shrewd, cunning, and charismatic. His way with words had everyone coiled tightly around his finger; he could sell holy water to the Pope if he wanted to. And with that silver tongue, that guise he wore to stroke the egos of those who ate from his palm and were none the wiser, he continued to climb higher and higher. More and more power fell into his grasp.

But a glass can only hold so much, and as his brimmed and spilled over with power and influence, so did he lose his humanity.

“Maxwell...what have you done?”

~~~~

The sun shines brilliantly in the summer sky over the wide yard in front of the Lord estate. In the lush green grass, two children play, no more than five or six years old. A boy and a girl, giggling and laughing over jokes and stories told in funny voices. It is the picture of innocence, purity. The little girl picks up a flower from the small pile they had collected, tucking it behind her ear before finding a matching one, tucking it behind the boy’s.

“We match now!” she beams in a way only a child can. “It means that you and I will be together forever!” The boy blushes at her words, soft blonde hair blowing gently in the summer breeze. His face is gentle and kind, shy even as he watches her with bright brown eyes that shine in the light. Tentatively, he sticks out his hand to her, pinky finger extended.

“You gotta promise! It doesn’t work if you don’t promise!” His serious voice makes the girl giggle before she makes a serious face, wrapping her pinky around his tightly.

“I promise! Forever and ever.” The boy smiles and nods as she says so, repeating her words back to her before they both erupt into giggles. From the balcony, the mothers of the two children look on fondly over their cups of tea. The sound of the children laughing danced on the warm breeze, pleasant in their ears. If only things could stay like this forever.

~~~~

Your pinky twitches as you stand before the gilded doors of the Lord Building, looking up at its windows, blinding in the sunlight. You would get in. You had to. Things had been put into motion that you need to stop, but the only way to do so is from the inside. With a shake of your head and a sigh, your turn on your heel, heading down the street towards home. It seems that nearly every screen you pass on your way has Maxwell’s face on it, selling empty promises and loaded bargains. And every time you see his eyes, they look a little less like the boy you use to know.

~~~~

“Max can’t meet you today, dear,” your mother says, petting your hair. To an adult familiar with grief and loss, the tightness in her voice would betray the tumultuous emotions she feels. To you, she just sounds uncomfortable, and you tilt your head in confusion. Fourteen years doesn’t provide much time to become familiar with the concept of loss, so you shrug, saddened you wouldn’t get to see your friend today.

Gone were the days of sitting in the grass to play, tucking flowers into each other’s hair. Maxwell was always busy helping his father to run the family business, and you would go months without so much as a word from him before he would show up at your door with a lily, smiling that dimpled smile at you. Promises always poured from his lips that it wouldn’t be so long next time before he came to see you.

But today… Today would change everything. Today, Maxwell’s father died.

~~~~

The door to your apartment slams shut behind you with a thud, shutting out the hustle and bustle of Metropolis. It’s small, but cozy, filled with your plants to bring a little life to the drab living room and kitchen. Taking a seat in the living room, you pull out your computer from your bag as you flip on the TV. It’s Maxwell’s face again, smiling at you with the look of a used car salesman who swears he wants only the best for his favorite customer. You know it’s not a real smile. Maxwell has a dimple when he smiles, and this charade didn’t. You shake your head as his promises of whatever you want in this perfect future fill the room, your eyes refocusing on your laptop, refreshing your emails. One meeting...that was all you needed.

~~~~

You let out a frustrated sigh as the door slams closed, your mother letting out a cry of surprise at the sound before coming to find you, resting a concerned hand on your shoulder as you throw yourself onto the couch.

“He still won’t see you?” Her gentle words just cause your heart to ache further and you nod.

“His mom greeted me, invited me in and made me tea. We chatted, but as soon as I asked about Maxwell, she stood up and ushered me from the house, asking me to not come by anymore since I couldn’t seem to stop asking for him.” You turn to look at your mother, tears in your eyes. “Why won’t he see me, Mom? Did I do something wrong?” Your mother’s heart shatters at the broken light in your eyes. She knew how much Maxwell meant to you, and that having him refuse to see you was tearing you apart.

“My sweet, you’ve done nothing wrong. Maxwell has a lot of responsibility to take on now that he’s running his father’s company. He’s very busy and doesn’t have as much time to see friends as he use to.” She brushes your hair behind your ear with delicate fingers. “I’m sure he still cares about you.”

“I miss him, Mom. I miss my best friend. It’s been three years since I’ve seen him...” Seventeen years of life and you still struggle with keeping your emotions in check, especially when it comes to Maxwell.

“I know sweetheart...When the time is right, you will see him again…”

~~~~

The alert from your inbox pulls you from your reverie, your eyes refocusing on the screen. As they do, your heart stutters in your chest

‘To Whom It May Concern,

We graciously thank you for your interest in Lord Corp. Mr. Lord has personally reviewed your product and would like to arrange to meet you on Wednesday at 3 p.m. You will have thirty minutes to make your sales pitch and answer any questions he may have. The front desk will direct you when you arrive. Please bring a valid photo ID and copies of your pitch for convince. Do not be late, Mr. Lord’s time is incredibly valued.

Cordially,

Sam Preston

Personal Assistant to the CEO’

You had gotten it. That moment you needed on the inside...you had finally gotten it. A relieved smile graces your lips as you begin to amass your files. You had one shot at this, it had to be perfect.

~~~~

You stand alone in the cemetery as you watch the caretakers laying new sod over the fresh grave. Your heart feels hollow, and only the black lace veil conceals the tears streaming down your cheeks from the world around you. Today was beautiful; cool and still with the birds singing in the trees as the sun warmed the earth. It was too beautiful for a day filled with such grief.

As the caretakers pack up their tools, one stops to rest a hand on his shoulder, passing along his condolences before continuing on his way. You nod gratefully before kneeling beside the headstone. It is modest, small and simple with a delicate engraving of a singular rose by your mother’s name. Black-gloved fingers trace along each petal and letter, your shoulders shaking with silent cries. You were now well and truly alone.

You shouldn’t have had to be alone. He should have been there with you, you had made a promise to one another. You were there when his father passed, and his mother. He didn’t even have the time to attend his own mother’s funeral, but you did. You mourned for him as they lowered a woman close enough to be your second mother into the ground beside her husband. So why were you alone now?

Where are you Maxwell?

~~~~

Your hands work to smooth the front of your dress down before you enter the lobby of Lord Corp. Slate gray with a simple black belt that held nicely to your figure but didn’t reveal too much. Professional and classy, with a dash of sexy. Nothing beyond anything any self-respecting company owner would don. Head held high and the bag you specifically reserved for important business trips and meetings over your shoulder, you make your way inside, up to the front desk.

“Welcome to Lord Corp, where the future is yours, do you have an appointment?” The intern who greets you sounds like every last bit of his soul has been sapped from him, and you pity him. Giving him a sad smile, you nod, pulling out your ID.

“I do, at 3 pm with Mr. Lord.” You give him your name as he takes the card, looking you up in the system before nodding, handing you back your ID and a visitors badge which you quickly put around your neck.

“Lily Solutions, you’re still on schedule. I’ll have you head down the hall. Take your first left, you’ll find the elevators. Take it all the way to the top and have a seat on the bench outside the double doors at the end of the hall. Sam will come and get you when Mr. Lord is ready for you.” You smile sweetly at the young man, thanking him before following your instructions. Your ears pop on the way up and you grimace, pulling out the folder with your ‘sales pitch’ inside, flipping through to make sure everything is in order. As the doors slide open and you make your way down the hall, you sigh. This floor was so much more opulent than the ground floor and you feel so out of place. Floor to ceiling paintings like the walls, depicting grandiose battles. Priceless vases and sculptures sit along marble pedestals. It’s like walking through a museum rather than an office, and your jaw clenches as you think about how he had come to acquire some of these items. When you reach the bench, you take your seat and cross your ankles to wait, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Lily Solutions?” The voice that calls out for you immediately grates on your nerves, high pitched and nasally. Looking to your right, so you a man in a pressed navy blue suit make his way towards you, and you stand to meet him, taking his extended hand. “I am Sam Preston, Mr. Lord’s personal assistant. Did you bring your requested documents?” The way he looked down his nose at you makes your blood boil, but you paste on the sweetest smile you can, nodding as you hand over the folder.

“You’ll find copies of all requested articles inside, neatly labeled for yours and Mr. Lord’s personal convenience.” Sam makes a disinterested sound in the back of his throat, snapping the folder shut before checking his watch.

“Very good. This way.” He strides past you and as soon as he is in front of you, you drop the sweet smile. Maxwell, why hire someone like him? You shake your head as Sam opens the door at the end of the hall, getting your salesman smile in place. “Mr. Lord, your 3 o’clock is here from Lily Solutions.” Sam ushers you inside and you are taken aback once again at how over the top the design of the office is. Floor to ceiling windows line the whole back wall with arguably the best view in Metropolis and the curtains that hang every so often are of a rich red velvet with gold filigree.  The marble tiles cause the click of your heels to echo as you make your way to the center of the room beside Sam, your eyes locked on the man sitting at the large mahogany desk.

It’s been seventeen years since you last saw Maxwell, and your heart ached for the man who appraises you with shrewd and cunning eyes. With a wave of his hand, Sam nods, leaving the folder on the desk to make his way out of the room. The large oaken door closing echos ominously through the room as Maxwell stands, coming around his desk to face you, hands in his pockets. If he recognized you at all, he didn’t show it.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Mr. Lord. I realize your time is very valuable, so I won’t keep you long.” Maxwell chuckles humorlessly at your greetings, leaning back against his desk.

“You say that, but you bring me this fake, garbage company in an attempt for a sales pitch?” His voice is rough and hard as flint, no trace of that gentle sound he once had. “What game are you playing?”

“No game, sir.”

“I don’t believe you.” He pushes off of his desk, walking back around it. “Everyone has a game they play, and if you’re not going to tell me yours, I’ll have you escorted out.” When he picks up the phone, your heart leaps into your throat and you dart forward pressing down on the receiver, cutting it off. He glares at you in disbelief. The audacity, he thinks, is astounding and he would make sure you suffer for it.

“Maxwell, please.” His eyes flash at the use of his first name, something in the way it sounds in your voice bringing him to pause. “I just need five minutes.”

~~~~~

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