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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

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sleeping beauty

— You struggle to find a time to have sex with your beloved Aizawa. Unfortunately or fortunately, the only time you can fuck him is when he’s deep asleep.

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pairing: aizawa shouta x yandere fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, pwp, yandere!reader, non-con somnophilia, hairy aizawa rights, recording

word count: 4,201

a/n: mark ur calendar, im getting my nipples pierced nov 8. you bet ur ass imma write a bunch of nipple pierced readers from there on out. pray that my family never finds out about my nipples tho LMAO if they do,,, it;ll be ripped out of my boobies without a seconds hesitation

kinktober day 19 main kink: somnophilia | kinktober masterlist

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Aizawa was always busy.

Over the past ten years of knowing him, the two of you had been close. You were a good friend to him, someone he wouldn’t absolutely avoid at all costs when you walked through the hallways of UA, someone he wouldn’t mind rambling to him about their long day. Of course, you knew that you weren’t his closest friend, and to a certain degree, that upset you.

You had met Aizawa when you had first been a high school student; at the time, you were merely fifteen years old. He was twenty, only five years older than you, but he took your breath away from the first team-up. He had been tall, dark, and brooding, and your little coming out of an emo phase heart stood no chance. But, due to the age discrepancy, he was never anything more than a team member. Still, you held on.

You graduated from high school, made your impact as a sidekick, graduated to a Pro Hero, and offered a job at UA by the time you were twenty! So, for the past five years, you and Aizawa had been actual co-workers, and better yet, friends.

Aizawa indeed was one of a kind.

He still held the key to your emo school girl fantasy daydream, but you also discovered new sides and angles of him. You learned he was incredibly kind, thoughtful, and looked out for everyone, even if his gruff and sometimes rude mannerisms spoke otherwise. Although he tried to avoid any type of nonsensical drama like the plague, he was always caught up in it, which often amused you.

There was so much about Aizawa that you loved, so much that you adored and looked up to that it was no surprise that you figured your feelings of respect and admiration became love.

True, deep love.

As a third-year teacher at UA, you found that your interactions with Aizawa were quite limited. Not only because he was always being placed with a first-year class and said class moving on without him — something that only happened because he kept expelling the damn students — but because he was incredibly close with the first-year teachers.

You loved Present Mic and Midnight and All Might, don’t get it wrong! Your admiration, love, and respect for them were unprecedented, but you hated how much of Aizawa’s time they took.

“Sorry, Mic needs help with lesson plans for my class,” Aizawa apologized for postponing your lunch date, not a date.

“Sorry, Midnight needs help separating the problem children. Apparently, they’re growing an immunity to her quirk,” Aizawa grumbled, shoving his phone into his pocket before leaving your office where you both had been talking and drinking tea.

“Sorry, All Might—”

“It the class, your problem children, I get it,” you force a smile onto your face, trying not to show just how irritated and disappointed you were on how these days were going. Aizawa pauses for a second, his tired, dried out eyes trying to read and uncover the depths of emotions swimming in your eyes before he sighs and runs off.

But it went without saying that the people you hated most were Class 1-A.

The damn stupid, fucking, ungrateful class had already caused your beloved Aizawa to be hospitalized. The scar under his eye, a numbing reminder that you had nearly lost him, almost had to cry at his coffin with your feelings never once being uttered. They, without a doubt, took up his time the most.

He saw potential in all of them, none of them being failed or expelled by him thus far.

He spent countless hours up in the dead of night tracking each and every one of his student’s potential. Slaving away at his tablets to make sure that they all were feeling safe, heroic, and above all, they were headed to their individual greatness. So, although it would be two more years before you would have the opportunity to teach this class, you already had a vendetta against Midoriya Izuku and Bakugou Katsuki. Those little shits always taking up your precious Aizawa’s time! He had never been this tired prior to them showing up!

But you never tried to think about it when you were with him.

You tried to openly accept your Aizawa’s new, incredibly busy schedule, and the moment the dorms appeared within UA, you found yourself more at ease.

To be frank, since you acknowledged your love for Aizawa at the mere age of twenty, and now at twenty-five, you had never taken on a lover or a one night stand. For years you had not allowed a person to grace you in bed or in their arms. It felt like you were betraying your love, and you would rather die than let that happen.

But the thing is, you are human, entirely susceptible to waves of uncontrolled horniness and lust.

In the beginning, sex toys worked.

You would press a vibrator to your clit, your toes digging into the mattress as your other hand shoved a silicone dildo into your aching, needy cunt. At first, it worked! You would cum with the thoughts of Aizawa being the dildo buried deep within you.

But eventually, you would find yourself at the peak of that orgasm, you knew the orgasm was right beyond the bend, just a step more, but you couldn’t get there. For weeks you realized that the vibrator, the dildo, and your fantasy thoughts weren’t enough. So, in your frustration, you began to search up audio plays of his narration at UA Sports Festival. Listening to his voice, ignoring Mics’ voice, to help coax you over that bend.

For a while, you were back to normal. Your highs and juices splattering all over your bed, a symbol of your lust and love for Aizawa as you gasped his name, wishing that the audio was real. But eventually, even the audios weren’t enough.

You craved Aizawa’s warmth, the feeling of his rough stubble against your sensitive skin, the throbbing of his cock buried deep within your womb, undoubtedly kissing your cervix. You wanted him; you needed your beloved.

As if by the grace of God, the moment you could no longer bring yourself to cum through that alone, the dorm system was put into place. And you, a teacher, were required to live on campus too. You tried not to think of Aizawa being a dorm away, tried not to feel the warmth fluttering under your skin when the two of you bid goodnight for the day.

You definitely tried to stay out of his room in the middle of the night.

God, you wish you could say that you stayed out of his room, but that would be a lie.

A big fat fucking lie.

It had started out innocently enough, you will claim.

You would see the exhausted man wave goodnight, grumbling that he needed to sleep now or else he would not wake up on time for homeroom tomorrow morning. You waved goodnight to him, trying to stay engrossed in a conversation you were having with Hound Dog. But an hour after Aizawa had gone to bed, you found yourself rushing away from the common room, explaining you had something to grade as you bid everyone goodnight.

Without a doubt, you ended up in Aizawa’s room that night.

In the darkness of the night, you watched the moonlight barely breach the thickness of his curtains to fall onto his face. You felt so warm as you stared at his slumbered face, your cheeks flushed as you watched his parted, chapped lips. You felt so light watching his chest rise and fall in a hypnotizing rhythm, reminding you that he is real, so very, very real. A part of you aching, knowing that he was entirely real and yet not yours. But still, you admired the way he looked so young, so intense, so ethereal as he dreamed.

You loved him.

Eventually, when you decided to leave, you pressed a kiss to his lips, smiling at the way his lips were exactly as you had imagined:

Supple, warm, and tasting of his mint toothpaste.

But the nightly visits didn’t stop there.

Most nights, you found yourself in his room, laying by his side, merely watching as he slept. No orgasm in the world felt quite as fulfilling as the quiet that came with just watching the over-exhausted Aizawa sleep.

But this is not a story of simple love, no, not at all.

Eventually, you began to grow bold. Your fingers sinking into your wet cunt, playing with your sensitive clit as you watched him sleep. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning as a rasped breath expelled from his mouth. You nuzzled into the warmth of his body heat through at you and only prayed he would one day acknowledge and return your affections.

To be quite honest, you’re not sure when you began to suck him off too.

Maybe it was the first time his cock grew long and hard in the middle of the night, his mind undoubtedly having a wet dream. So, as his beloved, you only thought it was appropriate to give his body what he wanted. With the skills and intentions that could only arise from being a gifted Pro Hero, you pulled the blankets from his body and pushed his cock through the slit in his boxers, and took him all in your mouth.

His cock was absolutely mouthwatering too.

So big, so thick, so incredibly veiny that you nearly lost all control the first time you saw it in all its glory. He was better than any dildo you owned, his scent alone driving you crazy. And so, as you should, you began to fuck him, completely addicted to his aroma, taste, and touch.

After the first night, you continued to blow him. Continued to suck him off as Aizawa let out sleepy moans, grunts that were strained, his body shifting unknowingly as you continued to go up and down his length, continuing to relieve him of his stress.

But you were human.

A human with needs and desires, and eventually, his cum coating your throat and filling your stomach wasn’t enough anymore. Which is where we find ourselves now, unashamedly fucking Aizawa each and every night, your cunt swallowing him whole, without a single shred of doubt of what was wrong with this.

There wasn’t anything wrong with this, and you knew that even if he was asleep the entire time you fucked him, it was for the better.

“Wow, Eraser!” Mic yelled from your side as you sat on the couch next to your beloved best friend. “You look like you’re glowing!”

Looking up from your phone, attempting to portray yourself as curious and unknowing, you found your gaze falling onto Aizawa, who had returned from an early evening training session with his class. As a matter of fact, Aizawa’s face was glowing; he looked incredibly much more relaxed, much more than he has been since the beginning of this semester.

“What do you mean?” Aizawa asked, evidently unimpressed as a lone eyebrow raised.

You watched on quietly, lips pressing to your cup as you took a drink of your tea as he sank onto a seat in front of you.

“Wait, don’t tell me, listeners!” Mic gasped dramatically, his hands pressing to his cheeks as he stood up. His expression of shock and disbelief curling and becoming one of knowing and understanding. “Does our grouchy, one and only, Aizawa Shouta, a.k.a. Eraserhead, have a special someone?!”

“Mic—” Aizawa snapped, his eyebrows furrowing.

“There definitely has been an after-sex glow that Eraser has had for the past few weeks. He did say that he’s been feeling more… ahem, relaxed,” Midnight gasped, seemingly appearing from nowhere, incredibly interested in the rumor of Aizawa having sex.

“Just because I’ve been feeling less tense doesn’t mean that I’m having sex.”

You giggled into your cup as the three of them began arguing, Mic and Midnights naturally loud noise quickly drowning out Aizawa’s fruitless attempts to shut down any sexscapades they were coming up with.

“Y/h/n, what do you think?!” Mic yelled, his hand pointed at you as if holding a microphone as Aizawa had him pressed and tangled within his capturing weapon. “Is Shouta-chan having sex?!”

Yes, your mind begs to say, but your mouth curls into a teasing smile, eyes locking onto Aizawa’s annoyed golden ones.

“I don’t think there’s anyone on this earth that Aizawa currently wants to fuck six feet into the mattress when he’s so busy,” you chide, your smile never entirely disappearing. At the same time, you take a long slow drink from your cup while everyone else (Mic only, really) continued to scream.

But you stayed there for the rest of the evening, working in silence with the rest of the group as next week’s lessons were laid out. Through a persistent, entirely stubborn will, Mic managed to get Aizawa to admit that he hasn’t had sex since the time he lost his virginity, to which Mic admitted to having had sex via orgies only. Midnight proudly announcing that she had a side piece at her disposal.

So as you checked through your lesson plans for the ethics book your students would be reading next week, you shouldn’t have been surprised to see their expectant gazes on you.

“I had sex last night,” you admit, unable to lie under their amused gazes.

“WITH WHO?! ARE YOU SNEAKING SOMEONE ON CAMPUS?!”

For the rest of the night, you smiled brightly, laughing with the rest of them all as talks and stories revolving around sex filled the air. It lasted until past midnight, and with a heavy sigh, Aizawa excused himself first. You waved goodnight, and soon Midnight left, followed by Mic.

You stayed on the couch, your own attention focused heavily on the time and not what you were supposed to be doing. It didn’t take much before the time faded from 00:00 to 01:45, and with a brush of your skirt, you headed precisely where you wanted and needed to be.

The walk to his second-floor room filled you with lust. Your body, like some Pavlovian dog, trained and knowing that you were about to fuck the love of your life while he slept. He was so beautiful while he slept, a true sleeping beauty. You especially thought he was stunning when he bit his lower lip, stifling a moan despite his heavy slumber.

Without so much as a second thought, you apparated into his room, your feet cushioned by the soft carpet of his room. And with a smile that was dripping with your love, you stared at Aizawa’s sleeping form. He was already deep in sleep, his body positioned on his back as if he knew what you were doing, accepting the inevitable actions you would take tonight as you did every night. He just looked so calm, so beautiful, so youthful when asleep. The scar under his eye almost invisible

But unlike most nights where he slept in a soft cotton long-sleeved shirt and sweats, you froze at the sight of the tight black t-shirt on his sleeping form, the shorts that were riding just the slightest bit too low on his sturdy, muscled hips. Your bit your fist, a bubbling heat of lust, and a whine tickling the back of your throat as you take in his sleeping form.

He was doing this on purpose.

Teasing you with this outfit on his sleeping body.

You huffed, inexplicably turned on as the small puffs of air past his lips seemed to thunder around the room.

You were wet already, so very wet.

“You’re so mean, Shouta-kun,” you whimper softly, your voice silent and unheard by his sleeping form. You walk closer to the bed, lips pulled into a pout as you sit on the soft mattress. “Dressing up like that, I know you did that to tease me!”

Aizawa doesn’t respond because, of course, he’s asleep. But you smile regardless, imagining a million and three things he would say in response, each leading to what you wanted to do so desperately.

“I hope you know you were lying when you said you haven’t had sex since you were twenty,” you sigh, your fingers expertly removing his shorts and boxers from around his waist, using your quirk to make them reappear to the side of him. “We have sex practically every night; you’re so horny, my angel.”

You watch with a curling smile as his cock immediately begins to stiffen against your warm breaths, his face scrunching in his slight discomfort as his cock grows and grows. His cock is undeniably one of your favorite parts of his body. It’s pale in color, paler than the rest of his body, but as it extended to the swollen thickness of his head, it grew darker, the flushed brown pinkness of his head making you salivate at the memory of the first time you ever saw it. His cock, unlike the rest of his scarred body, was unharmed, unmarred by the horrors of the job the two of you held. The thick, beautiful smoothness of his skin, making your eyes flutter in unadulterated lust, his cock a symbol of your pure, unmarked love for him. You hum, hand grasping his length and lazily stroking him as your head tilts, reading his sleeping features for any sign of him enjoying this as much as you do.

“Aww, Shouta-kun, I wish you knew I fuck you. I bet you would turn bright red, knowing that I ride you every night. Maybe you’d use that weapon of yours to teach me a lesson or two,” you mumble, your hand gripping his cock harder as you stroke him.

A small glistening drop appears at the slit of his dick, and you shiver in excitement; he was already leaking pre-cum.

“Look at you, already ready to have my cunt wrapped around that big cock of yours,” you mewl, absolutely ready to mount him, prepared to have his sleeping form cum deep within you. You stand up, removing your shorts and panties, and climbing onto the bed.

With the balance of a pro, you get yourself hovering over him, your already wet cunt shivering with the expectance of having him deep within you. Your hand on his cock never once stopping as you tease yourself against his swollen head, your voice a pathetic whimper as your slick mixes with his clear pre-cum.

“S-See how embarrassing you are!” you huff, rutting his length between his folds, lubing him up for the initial entrance because, by god, it still hurt. “Making my pussy so wet! I’m practically dripping all over you!”

There’s only a soft breath from his lips, but you grin as if he was speaking to you.

“You want me too, huh?” you giggle, and without further adieu, you sink against him.

His cock entering your tight cunt was still as mind-numbing as the first time. His cock easily buries into the small, thin wall of your cervix, and you tremble as his length stretches and pulls at your throbbing core. You can feel every curve in his cock, every vein, every gentle throb.

“Glad t-to know you find me… nnghh… find me i-irresistible,” you pant, face flushed with your desire to adjust quickly around him.

The conversation from tonight had made you entirely weak in the knees and hot at your core, knowing that you were the only one to really have claimed Aizawa, the only one who would ever know how his sleeping body craved you as much as you desired him.

You give a tentative swirl of your hips, your eyes trained on Aizawa’s relaxed ones, testing to see how tired and sleepy he was. There was no reaction, no movement outside of the typical grunt at the back of his throat. It was a noise he always made when you first moved with him, a noise that quickly seared in the back of your memory forever.

Shifting your weight to be more comfortable on your knees, your hot hands fall onto his tight chest, and with a sigh of pure relief, you begin to fuck him.

Your straddling aided the deep penetration, allowing for the gentle kiss of the tip of his leaking cock to your thin cervix wall. You clenched tightly around him, unable to keep yourself from doing so as you rode him, the feeling of his throbbing member within you absolutely breathing taking as you placed your claim on him again, again, and again.

Aizawa was fully sheathed within you, and your fingers twisted and pulled at the tight fabric of his shirt, raising it up so that you could admire his taut, tense abdomen, mewling at the way he’s happy trail was thick and bushy. You wondered how he would react to your fingers threading through his body hair, if he would love it; if he would hate it.

“I want you to know how much I love you, how much I would give everything to you!” you whimper, your head fighting the instinct to throw itself back as you begin to drop onto his still cock faster and faster. “I wish you knew that you fuck me so good, Shouta-kun; I need you to know that! But you won’t even look at me! You won’t spare me a single second of your busy day, so that’s why I have to fuck you at night!”

Tears of both pleasure and hurt well into your eyes; you sniffle as you fuck him faster, dropping onto his awaiting cock with more significant, more aggressive slaps. The sounds echo throughout the room, the musky, sweet smell of your sexes is the only thing keeping you sane — that and the grunting noises that Aizawa keeps emitting, it makes your toes curl and belly flutter in a funny way.

“I bet you’ll fuck me so good once I get you to love me! You’ll never stop fucking me, you’ll never want to leave me because only I know how to fuck you correctly!” you snap, anger and lust licking through your tone, making your eyebrows furrow and your walls to clench even tighter around him. The building tension in your stomach is like a fire, and you can feel your high coming. “But you fuck me so good, baby, so good and you’re not even awake!”

And for the first time, you watch in electrifying pleasure as a low, husky, raspy moan leaves his throat as you fucked him. The sound alone was something downright pornographic to you, and the whine that spills from your mouth is nearly inaudible with the pitch it vibrates at. So without so much as a second thought, a bubbling smile spreads on your face, and you continue on, energy and excitement doubled in your joy.

Your hips roll, rise, and fall against his with growing force and speed. The small creaks of the mattress completely ignored by you as the throbbing and twitching of his cock buried deep within you keeps you pushing for more. The heat and pressure in your belly grow exponentially, festering and burning until you can feel yourself at the tipping point until you can’t do anything but focus on Aizawa and only Aizawa, or else you would scream his name in your euphoria.

The veins on his cock and the overall girth of his length send your mind spinning, not at all helping your predicament, and in a last-ditch effort to keep yourself from crying so loudly you would wake up even the dead, you lean forward. Your sweaty body leaning down to his parted chapped lips as you kiss him to keep yourself silent as your orgasm crashes through you in a blissful wave. Your body spasms almost uncontrollably, the nerves and firing axons through your body uncontrollable as you lay there, allowing for Aizawa to cum before you leave. You shudder at the feeling of his cum emptying out within you, his cock immediately softening as you lay there on top of him. His heart racing with his orgasm, and you sigh contentedly.

“God, I love you so much, Aizawa Shouta; I’ll make you mine one day,” you swear, your nose nuzzling his stubbled cheek.

You lay there for some time, enjoying the way he feels in you, content with the pooling cum from your still spasming cunt. But eventually, you pull away. You pull on your panties and shorts quickly, not wanting a single drop more of his cum to seep out of you. Unable to help yourself, you lick the leftover cum on his cock clean with your tongue before wiping him down with a towel to prevent the smell from clinging.

Your eyes study Aizawa’s face just before you leave, and your smile.

He really does look less tired after orgasming.

But the entire time you were there — the whole night you fucked him and spoke to him — you missed the red blinking light of the camera recording in the corner of the room.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #tw: somnophilia #bbs kinktober 2020

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mittensmorgul · 4 years ago

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Since the finale aired, I’ve been yammering on about how it would’ve only worked as a finale to s2, and now that I’m actually rewatching s2, I stand by that even more staunchly. The finale doesn’t work in a post-s2 supernatural universe.

This is the version of Dean we saw in the finale-- the one whose only mission in life was to Save Sammy, to help him get his revenge and allow him to go out and live a Normal Safe Life pretending that hunting and monsters don’t exist. The one who just wanted some pie, to drive his car, and had no real connections beyond Sam in the world outside of Bobby. Even Dean’s characterization in the finale is this far younger Dean who’d never allowed himself to crack open and truly understand love. It would take me years to plow through everything I’ve ever written about him as a character and his long struggle to emotional maturity we saw evolve over the next 13 years beyond this episode, but the tl;dr will always be “this s2 Dean is the same as the Dean in the finale.”

The goal of s2 was saving SAM from his “destiny,” too. In this era of the show, Dean didn’t have a “destiny” the same way Sam did. The ONLY thing that mattered was freeing Sam from “becoming evil,” and being manipulated into terrible things. What Dean wanted, what he was “destined” for by the narrative was irrelevant, because all of his choices and emotional burdens were tied only to saving Sam. To freeing Sam so he could safely return to his “normal life.” Go back to college, have a family and the white picket fence life.

This was before Dean truly began fighting for HIMSELF. Which only really and truly began after he sells his soul to resurrect Sam. That’s when Dean truly begins fighting for himself. Sure, he’s angry with John during s2 for trading his own life for Dean’s, for putting the burden of “if you can’t save Sam, you’ll have to kill him” on his shoulders with his dying breath, but Dean is still fighting against John’s authority and the complicated tangle of feelings of his own childhood and not actually coming to terms with his own wants and needs and wishes out beyond that yet. He’s still unwittingly confronting the “destiny” John had set up for him, and hasn’t moved beyond that yet. It’s only trading his soul for Sam’s that finally brings Dean into the cosmic narrative that will fuel his introspection and personal growth for the rest of the series.

And out beyond that point, his entire character arc explodes into orbit.

Dean’s entire character arc in s3 is confronting this very basic fact: he doesn’t deserve to have been sacrificed just to save Sam. He doesn’t deserve that burden, and he does deserve to live. This is the realization he comes to before eventually being dragged to Hell and then rescued by an angel, who literally tells him, “you don’t think you deserve to be saved” in the aftermath of that. From that point on, we have TWELVE SEASONS of Dean struggling with what he “deserves” versus what is “fate” and “destiny” and eventually confronting what he WANTS if he truly could choose his own destiny.

Plus, out beyond that point, he has Cas. And nothing changes Dean, pushes him to grow and understand himself, and accept himself-- all of himself, from the good to the horrific-- than the pure and unflinching acceptance of Castiel. Cas never looked at him and said “you are evil,” or “you are worthless.” (well, they’ve both said some pretty awful stuff to each other over the years, but there was either brainwashing or other deeper issues pushing those things on them, and they have ALWAYS eventually come back to one another, and the awful stuff was dealt with). Point is, Dean and Cas both began running these parallel arcs of duty versus desire, and for Dean, the duty was always framed around “taking care of Sam” versus pursuing any sort of ambition or goals for himself. They would fight for this for most of the rest of the series, until eventually the goal for ALL of them would be about discovering what they would want for themselves.

The show explicitly dealt with this, repeatedly, over later seasons, asking all of the characters the big questions: is this what you would choose for yourself? What WOULD you choose for yourself if you could?

And then they made the narrative of the final season, of the final Big Bad, the fact that they had NEVER had real freedom, and that their entire lives (and the entire history of not only this universe but every parallel universe) had been Chuck’s Puppet Theater, and true free will had been a lie all this time. Pushing all of the characters to confront their own choices and understand what about who they were as people was separate from what Chuck pushed them into choosing and doing all these years. The main thing that Dean (and also Cas, and to the extent she was included in the narrative this was Eileen’s issue as well) were being pushed to come to terms with what really was real, and were their feelings and choices their own or imposed on them for the furtherance of Chuck’s story.

At the end of the road, finally free and out from under Chuck’s control, they knew what was real. For Sam and Eileen, they had chosen each other. Cas had chosen Dean, but Dean hadn’t yet had a chance to reply, but anyone with two eyes and a brain knows what he would’ve said in return. It’s what Cas stopped him from saying even back in Purgatory in 15.09. And yet, for some reason Sam and Dean forgot all of that, as if none of it had ever even really happened at all, and we went right back to who they were right after they finally defeated the YED, before we even knew Azazel had a name, let alone the fact that the ultimate boogeyman of their entire lives to that point had been nothing more than a fanatic pawn in a much larger destiny for both of them.

The end of s2 was the last time Dean sacrificing himself so Sam could have a normal life, where Dean really felt there was nothing more for himself than fulfilling his father’s orders to save Sammy, even feels remotely plausible. It’s the last time we can feel like Dean might find peace and contentment in a Heaven where John is nearby to be proud of him, and where Dean would actually feel like that validation was even relevant to his own life.

And that finally brings me back to s2, where that was actually addressed through John’s self-sacrifice to save Dean, to serve Dean up to the narrative and provide a stage for this self-transformative journey INTO being a version of John himself. Only... Dean DOESN’T choose that. He fights to save Sam at all costs, even when it seems clear that the right answer would probably be to KILL Sam instead. When not only the ghost of John Winchester plaguing Dean’s mind would make him doubt his own drive to save his brother, but the John Winchester Insert Character of s2-- Gordon Walker-- basically put Dean’s own doubts out there in plain words in 2.10:

GORDON: I'm surprised at you, Dean. Getting all emotional. I'd heard you were more of a professional than this. Look, let's say you were cruising around in that car of yours and, uh, you had little Hitler riding shotgun, right? Back when he was just some goofy, crappy artist. But you knew what he was going to turn into someday. You'd take him out, no questions, am I right?

DEAN: That's not Sam.

GORDON: Yes it is. You just can't see it yet. Dean, it's his destiny. Look, I'm sympathetic. He's your brother, you love the guy. This has got to hurt like hell for you. But here's the thing. It would wreck him. But your dad? If it really came right down to it, he would have had the stones to do the right thing here. But you're telling me you're not the man he is?

This, the episode where Dean finally confesses John’s final orders to Sam, where Dean has decided that saving Sam is all that matters, even when circumstance and everyone else is practically screaming at him that this could all be over if only he gave in-- be it his own self-sacrifice OR killing Sam. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, the universe doesn’t care (and neither does Chuck... especially at this point... and the proof of that is Sam’s s15 nightmares where one of Chuck’s alternate universe endings for Sam and Dean was Sam actually going Darkside on demon blood and killing Dean... any iteration of the old drama, Chuck has explored all potential endings-- oh, except the ending where TFW gets to just be happy and live... that’s the one ending they never get and the only one they deserved in the end).

also from 2.10... loads of chat about “destiny” and one of Dean’s first “we should just lay all this shit down and take a vacation” moments when he suggests they go to Amsterdam and enjoy some of the not-coffee-coffee-shops, which Sam counters by doubling down on the fact that Dean has a destiny in all this as much as Sam does:

SAM: Well, come on, dude, you're a hunter. I mean, it's what you were meant to do.

DEAN: Ah, I wasn't meant to do anything, I don't believe in that destiny crap.

SAM: You mean you don't believe in my destiny.

DEAN: Yeah, whatever.

SAM: Look, Dean, I've tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California and look what happened. You can't run from this. And you can't protect me.

DEAN: I can try.

And that’s it, right there. This is the “neither of you can try for a normal life outside of the other while the other is still alive.” This is Sam pinning a destiny to Dean that’s just as inescapable within Chuck’s narrative as Sam’s demon blood and psychic powers.

This is the core essence of Chuck’s story about them. The sibling dynamic that Chuck failed to free himself from, and that Sam and Dean failed to free themselves from after Chuck’s demise in 15.19.

Destiny. One must die so the other can live.

And considering the next 13 seasons of the show and the long and emotionally grueling character arcs Sam and Dean proceed through where they truly confront the core of who they are as people-- as individuals outside of their duty and destiny-- the finale ceases to make any sense outside of Chuck’s narrative for them. If 15.20 really happened exactly as we saw it on screen, then Chuck still won.

And they had to loop Sam and Dean all the way back to where they were emotionally at the end of s2 in order to make it seem plausible. Which, for those of us who actually care about what they endured after s2, makes the finale entirely implausible as a whole.

#spn 2.10 #spn 15.20 #spiders georg of the tnt loop #while i was writing this up i also watched 2.11 and yep... still holds up #the ghost of john winchester #chuck's process

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mc-critical · 4 years ago

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I remember not too long ago, I had read an analysis on Kösem and Ahmed’s relationship, namely its development and whether or not it was truly healthy. I remember the sudden development of Kösem’s feelings for Ahmed were ascribed to stockholm syndrome, which as you dissect it further, even later in the series after Ahmed has passed away, makes total sense. However it made me wonder, why stop at Kösem/Ahmed? Truthfully, I think stockholm syndrome, trauma response and survival instinct were the primary factors in all of the sultanas “love” or attachment to the sultans. Hürrem, Mahidevran, Aysë, Halime, Handan..all of them. Hürrem had initially thought her fiance was murdered when she came to the palace, and within what looked like a couple of months if even, she was shown to be totally head over heels for Suleyman. No one can simply discard their former love interest so quickly unless trauma was a catalyst..and even when Leo came back to the palace that whole time period where he was in such a close proximity to her visibly caused Hürrem so much pain mentally and emotionally. Or with Handan and Kösem going on to fall in love after their sultans had died..it makes me think of when Handan was confessing her love to Dervish and called being a member of the royal family “her prison.” None of these women were truly in love with their sultans, nor do I blame them for it. Love is what develops when there’s no consequences, no strings attached, which is entirely untrue in the harem’s enviornment. Even with Mahidevran’s arc way back when Hürrem was first introduced and she started to feel like she was losing Suleyman. It looked to me Mahidevran ultimately feared lonliness rather than losing Suleyman himself. Harem rules wouldn’t permit her to fall in love with someone else if Suleyman lost interest in her. He was pretty much her only confidant and the only person she had been intimate with and likely from a very young age, unhealthy attachment is bound to develop due to those curcumstances. We all feel so sorry for royal borne sultanas when they’re forced to marry men they don’t love..but this courtesy is seldom extended to their mothers. It’s all very sad when I think about it. How do you feel about this perspective?

(~Fun fact: I got yours and the last ask in the same day and they are both somehow related to Kösem and Ahmet!!~)

Anyway, I have also read that analysis and it's really nuanced and awesome, Joanna always does such an amazing job with her blog and these posts! <3 It gives an amazing perspective to the nature of Kösem and Ahmet and makes us think hard on whether there are more relationship cases in the franchise where Stockholm Syndrome can be applied and how many women there are in the harem that aren't so in love with their sultans.

I also fully believe that, just like motherhood, love in the harem can't not be toxic in a way, because the environment itself won't ever let healthy dynamics happen, thanks to its very roots. And while mothers of children still have the small chance to forge some kind of a relationship with genuine affection despite of the toxicity, we have a totally different situation with the sultans who are basically on the top of the system that brought them in this mess in the first place. It's not easy to let go of the people you loved and it's even harder to get to truly love a person you not only don't know at all, but one you know you're supposed to at least try to win over by sheer force.

Survival instinct plays a lot into this, because sooner or later you see that you don't have a choice. You do what you have to do or else you'll either rot in this palace with everyone always bossing you around or be done for. Something I see some viewers forget is the way Hürrem was ultimately "convinced" to try her luck out with Süleiman. She wanted to get out of this place and let it burn in hell until Nigar told her what it took to win the game. Keep in mind that she hadn't met Süleiman yet back then and that faint was merely an act she pulled to gain his attention and she gained some kind of an affection for him only after some time had passed. This sheer pragmatism could've turned into something more eventually, but the beggining was precisely this survival instinct that was kept intact throughout the entire relationship and the birth and living of Hürrem's children. I think she had let go of Leo by the time when she met him again, but that letting go pained her so much, as seen by all her breakdowns when she saw him and lost him completely. It's something she knew she had to do; notice how she kept telling him to leave for "his own good" and for "the good of both of them". There is this looming, prevailing fear that if they had escaped, the consequences would be severe and Hürrem had already planted roots in the dynasty: as if she gained attachment after attachment she felt the need to protect. She's now responsible for these children and can't leave them behind for her own possible desires to get out of the system. Ibrahim did threaten the children in front of Leo and Hürrem in the S01 finale and that's a big reason why she decided it would be for the best to lose him in this particular situation, no matter how much it hurt afterwards. Hürrem already had a set goal to fulfill in the dynasty and letting go of Leo became the only plausible option for her thematically and narratively. Everything these women do in the harem they do is to survive, adapting to their circumstances and forging some kind of relationships with their sultans is the peak of it. A healthy dynastic is far from one where you have to be opportunistic at every turn. Even the favored women have to be as careful as ever, because a mistake can cost everything. They have to make sure they always have his approval and be in his good graces, behaving like he wants them to behave, not the way they actually are. The goal they have set for themselves in the harem is tightly linked with their love for the sultan. He isn't only love, he's also power, prestige and reassuring. The Sultanate of Women are probably even the most affected by this, because they are the ones who want to break the boundaries of power and by doing that they have to put the leg work to make him happy and pleased. These relationships need so much work and decisiveness for their flourishment, with the women having to be mindful of the sultan's moods and unpredictable nature. (especially when you have an unpredictable, very short tempered sultan like Murat!)

But attachment is still attachment and that's where Stockholm syndrome comes from. They do their best to win him over, but with doing that for such a long time, they learn to feel something for him. There is so much toxicity in the dynamic, but they get used to it and normalize it in their heads. The concept of the harem itself succeeds to make their life revolve around it and it's not something they question anymore. I absolutely agree that it's not limited to only Kösem and Ahmet - everyone is somehow subjected to it, no exceptions. The relationships each woman of the franchise has with the sultan certainly differ from one another, depending on the different personalities and goals, but its unhealthy core remains the same: it's still a toxic, dependant relationship with a massive power imbalance and will always remain so in these castle walls and rules. The big attachment makes it even scarier for one to discover that they might be losing everything, that's why there is such a resistence from Mahidevran, Hürrem, Kösem, Ayşe, Farya etc. when the sultan accepts or outrightly begins to favor other women and I always roll my eyes when these women get accused of "behaving like that while knowing the rules of the harem" without it being understood from a narrative standpoint - even though they know the rules, it still hurts, because the attachment is ultimately more self-centered than anything: they want the sultan to be all theirs, to have him all for themselves, perhaps for a validation of their efforts to forge and preserve their relationships. When they lose favor, everything seems to be crumbling and falling apart and that is so difficult to accept, you can't face helplessness like that, you can't face vulnerability like that and I guess for that it took Mahidevran so long to get over Süleiman. As you said, she got destructively attached to the person that seemigly gave her so much for years. (she herself even said that she's like a little kid in front of him in the second episode) And her suddenly not being regarded in the same way by someone she thought was her family (I still adore that thematic note of her character and perhaps it's the reason why we didn't get any backstory from her.) was catastrophic to her emotional stability and it took her 46 (55, if we begin from her direct confession) episodes to accept that she has lost and even then she was still trying to achieve vengeance at the very least, by thinking of her rule of the harem as a battle she fought with Hürrem, a last helpless try to prevail over her. (E63: "I congratulate you, Hürrem, you won.") That's also why Hürrem almost killed herself when Firuze seemed to have taken away her Thursdays, without having any regard for the children. It's like a chain, of sorts, that women are stuck in, fighting to the end to be the ones next to him, to the point of wanting to end their own lives if they lose. If they lose, that's the end. If they lose the favoritism or the sultan himself dies, leaving them to rest in the hands of the enemy, that's the end.

That's why Mahidevran and Ayşe getting over Süleiman and Murat respectively and realizing that it was more or less an unhealthy dynamic is so important, because these character arcs help spread awareness of the toxicity of this grown attachment to the sultan and the struggle it takes for them to take account of said toxicity, because of their attachments. Ayşe had a rough path accepting that Murat was the way he is, trying almost until the end to make things right with him, both missing in the process and slowly uncovering his unpredictability. While this realization rendered her to do the inevitable in killing herself along with the kids, her letter to Murat indeed felt so eye opening in this regard, putting this whole deal into perspective. Mahidevran, conversely, also found out his true nature and detached herself from it, daring to openly call out a root of the attachment (E139: "He decides the fates of all of us.") and put the free choice of everyone into light and question. (E139: "God, apart from reason, gave people free will.") It's rare for someone to gain such awareness of the system and that's a valuable quality to have, but in a future where Mahidevran and Ayşe aren't as grossly mistreated, would all this be possible to happen? No, I don't think so. And even from the ones that aren't favourites who are more likely to find this out, there are still people out there that probably would stay trapped in the attachment forever. And favourites would be the least likely to figure stuff out, judging by the series' themes. (Hürrem, E134: "I am the soul of all the women in the world and my existence is hidden in the love of the conqueror of my heart." - this assertion is honestly self-explanatory.)

[Handan's arc also extends on the traumatic response one gives the system and I think this aspect applies to her the most. She's a person with no real attachments that is so traumatized by fighting, she didn't even expect the possibility to win over players like Halime and Safiye. She's trying to adapt to her new role as Valide, give "cruel" advice to Ahmet in order to ensure it and make impulsive decisions, dictated by the fear it would all come back to square 1 again, but when she met Derviş, it turned out that nothing about the system made her fit. Hence, she "adapts out" from it by finding true love and killing herself for that love, leaving everything behind.]

So no matter how much these women come to idealize it, no matter how much they begin to think it is actually love or a "fairytale", there still are so many signs that it's not quite like that and that prevent it from being that. That truly includes everyone in the harem, it can't be denied.

#magnificent century #ask #stuffandthangs

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incarnation-of-victory · 4 years ago

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“He doesn’t take himself into account...”

I was contemplating how Deku’s fatal flaw of “not taking himself into account” is going to be resolved, and, assuming that it’s going to be in the form of some kind of talk with his friends/family/peers/mentors, here are some of my ideas on the problem itself and how some characters might approach it (A.K.A. 80% of this is in regards to Bakugou and then there’s a paragraph at the end about how Shouto relates to Deku, because I haven’t thought enough about the other characters yet. There is no cure for “Head empty, just-Bakugou” syndrome):

*Manga spoilers up to ~295*

I've seen debate over whether or not Deku does indeed have a self-worth problem, and while I do agree that it is a factor, I also think it’s a little more complicated than that. The way I see it, Deku is a lot like Bakugou: he hinges his self-worth on whether or not he can save everyone, much like how Bakugou hinges his self-worth on whether or not he can achieve a perfect victory. They both have unstable egos which fluctuate depending on whether or not they can fulfill their ideals.

So I don’t think it’s quite as simple as Deku thinking: “Everyone says I’m worthless so they must be right,” but it's more that he’s constantly trying to challenge that label. He has the confidence/perseverance to think, “Everyone says I’m worthless so I have to constantly prove them wrong—and more importantly, I have to prove it to myself so I don’t actually succumb to the even deeper fear that maybe I actually am worthless after all.” So essentially, Deku’s constantly under the pressure of people’s expectations of him. And this pressure comes from more than just society once Deku is bestowed with OFA. Sound familiar?

Well, it’s a lot like how it was for Bakugou. Deku came into the world graceless and unskilled, even before being diagnosed as Quirkless, so the world formed that perception of him accordingly. Deku was deemed worthless, so he feels the need to surpass that designation out of fear that he will regress to it if he doesn’t meet his goals. Bakugou was a natural-born talent, even before getting his Quirk, so the world had high expectations of him to be good at everything, always strong, and never require help. So for Bakugou, if he fails to meet those standards, his self-esteem drops and he feels similarly weak (though he's now outgrown this to some extent).

More specifically, Deku now has one of the most powerful Quirks in the world, OFA, which comes with very high expectations—not unlike how Bakugou’s Quirk, Explosion, is very powerful and as such comes with a similar expectation that he must be the strongest and better than everyone else. In Deku’s case, however, it’s a little different because OFA is tied to a kind of legacy-driven destiny: it was created for the sole purpose of defeating AFO (the person, and the Quirk, I suppose—the two are so entangled, reasonably). Deku has gotten to the point that he feels the full weight of this expectation, and that he’s desperately afraid he won’t meet it. So in his mind, he has to fulfill the goal of OFA, even at the cost of his own life. Not just so All Might, who chose him, won’t regret his decision, or that others will be disappointed in him, but also because the fate of the world & people’s safety very much hang in the balance. Furthermore, as a OFA user, he feels that it’s his responsibility to deal with AFO and nobody else’s, which is probably part of why he’s reluctant to rely on others’ help.

Deku pledged to Bakugou that he would make OFA his own, and Bakugou often checks up on his progress for that reason, so I think it makes sense that Bakugou would be involved in trying to remind Deku that he is his own person outside of OFA’s own goals. It’s a bit like how AFO quite literally possesses Shigaraki to pursue his own goals: OFA (the person/the Quirk?) does the same by overriding Deku’s dreams and well-being, even if it’s for a noble cause. I think Bakugou very much recognizes how OFA is cursed in this manner too (though at the same time, he’s acknowledged that it’s done a lot of good too and has the potential to do even more).

Additionally, Bakugou also benefits from Deku making OFA his own: so they can finally settle once and for all, who the better the hero is (he also wants it for Deku’s own sake too, of course). A “Deku vs. Kacchan 3” is in order for that reason, but I don’t think it’s going to be in the conventional format of a brawl, because at this point, it’s clear that raw power alone is not enough to become the best hero. So we’ll see how that goes.

Despite all of this, would it still be valuable for people to remind Deku of his own inherent self-worth? Perhaps. I think Deku could benefit from relating to Bakugou most on how failing to meet your own expectations doesn’t automatically make you weak/worthless/a loser.

Because I feel that there’s a fine line between feeling motivated to get back up again after failing vs. having your self-worth plummet if you fall just below the standards you’ve set for yourself. And Deku and Bakugou toe that line a lot. How would you reconcile this issue, you ask? Well, I wouldn’t personally know, because:

I still feel that Deku & Bakugou’s tendency to fall into that pit of self-negativity is a little unhealthy… but that could just me. I think Bakugou having a similar guilt complex, where he pins a lot of blame on himself for his mistakes (which is sometimes overly harsh/misplaced), is also not the best mentality. I’m still of the opinion that Bakugou’s continued sense of responsibility (read: guilt) over All Might��s end is somewhat misplaced/misguided, even if well-intentioned, but again, we have yet to see the narrative confirm this as a lasting issue or not.

Which brings me to Bakugou’s sequence of thoughts/recollections in 285: Bakugou Katsuki: Rising. Again, I think it’s important to keep in mind that Bakugou has a tendency to be a little harsh on himself, so his own perception of his culpability in influencing Deku may be a tad overblown (this also applies to any narrator when we see the story from their perspective: they’re always going to have their own biases).

I’ve read and re-read Bakugou’s flashback sequence as he begins to rise, and because Bakugou is such a visual thinker and less of a linguistic one, his flashbacks, without proper wording, can be vague. I think there’s multiple ways you can interpret this sequence, and while at first I was confused by it and found it disjointed, I then tried looking at it as a kind of thematic, three-act structure, where the images all sorta build on each other.

When Bakugou thinks of OFA as a “cursed power,” he flashes back to middle school when he mocked Deku’s desire to apply to U.A. in front of the class.

And then when he thinks about OFA in a positive light, as associated with All Might, he focuses on All Might’s face and then flashes back to Deku’s hero notebook that he blew up and tossed in the pond, which is again, another rejection of Deku.

And then he remembers Deku pushing back against him instead in Deku vs. Kacchan 1, when he tells Bakugou he won’t be his “worthless punching bag Deku forever,” pledging that he’ll from now on be “the Deku who always does his best.”

Except the next image we get of Deku in place of the past, positive one, is one of him destroying himself in real time, where he appears ominous, haunting, almost kind of mad or possessed. And Bakugou is not pleased by it.

So one way the pattern here could be read: Bakugou recalls all the times he put Deku down, only for him to get back up again, which parallels how Deku reacted against society’s "worthless" perception of him. This also kind of works in conjunction with another pattern: 1) Deku (while in possession of OFA) is conflated with AFO/OFA, 2) Deku (while in possession of OFA) is conflated with All Might, 3) Bakugou’s conclusion: Deku isn’t quite either of those and is instead, his own person. OFA is his own and exists to serve Deku’s goal of being “the Deku who always does his best.” The only problem is that the Deku here hasn’t quite realized that yet.

Either way, it seems like Bakugou feels he at least partly contributed to this marginalization of Deku. Maybe a part of him thinks, "If only I'd been supportive of him from the beginning… then maybe he wouldn't be like this now… that he wouldn't be in this position…"

While, as compared to where he was at during DvK1, Bakugou does now accept the new meaning of “does his best” Deku, at the moment, this Deku isn't currently matching up to that version. The distinction here is that this current image of Deku isn’t a positive one, it’s negative.

It’s a picture of Deku destroying himself for a dream which isn’t his, perhaps out of a sense of obligation. Because as Deku puts it, he feels blessed for all he currently has: for being at U.A., having All Might as his mentor, and being able to have a normal-ish conversation with Bakugou.

But he still has this imposter syndrome way of thinking that he got this all through luck, that he’s undermining his own virtues and skills. Possibly because he does have low self-worth. I think of it like this: Deku is probably aware on some level that OFA comes with risks, that it has a lot of baggage and is probably kind of cursed, but Deku’s so grateful for the chance to become a hero, and desperately so, that he’s willing to accept even the worst of consequences to himself.

Here’s a good comic from a Japanese artist on Twitter that encompasses this idea of OFA taking advantage of Deku’s hero ambitions, before Bakugou stops him: https://twitter.com/j_nobu4/status/1344244583148863488?s=20 (rough translation in the replies, but you get the gist from the images). I think it’s a surprisingly accurate depiction of canon events, and partly inspired a lot of my ideas here!

Either way, it probably doesn’t help that All Might conveniently forgot to mention all the warning labels and side effects that come with OFA before giving it to Deku, but I digress.

And I think it’s also possible that, because he’s so grateful and feels like he’s been gifted with this new, privileged life, a part of him is afraid that he might lose it all—his friends, his life at U.A., All Might’s approval, OFA itself—if he fails to meet the expectations set out for him. That maybe he won’t deserve it anymore. I mean, hell, he already tried to give Mirio OFA once before—it’s probably no coincidence his “better” showed up to the Shigaraki fight to make him feel inadequate again. Not only that, Deku never expected to be able to speak to Bakugou again. And yet, in a sad kind of way, it was only after finally getting a Quirk, OFA, that the two are given a means to reconnect again.

I admit all of that is a bit convoluted, but either way, I feel like Bakugou does feel guilty for belittling Deku, and that it could be helpful for him to remind Deku of his own inherent worth outside of OFA, even more than just as a hero, but as a person. Because someone’s worth shouldn’t just be based solely on how many people they save or how many battles they win. Every human being has value simply for existing. And that’s mainly why Bakugou jumped in to save Deku at the end of 285. It wasn’t because he was consciously thinking about OFA getting lost/stolen, or reconciling with Deku, or Deku losing his dream, or his even own ambitions. At that moment, he simply had that instinct to save someone who was in trouble.

I think the person whose words would have the most effect on Deku in this case would be Bakugou. Firstly, Bakugou was one of the main people in his life who constantly belittled him and made him feel worthless (obviously not the ONLY cause, but one of the major ones). I think, in one sense, not only does Deku highly value Bakugou’s opinion, it would also be quite validating to have the person who used to think you were worthless tell you that you really aren’t. It’d mean a lot if Bakugou, who gave Deku his deprecating nickname in the first place, revealed to him that he now acknowledges the new, positive meaning of it. Of course, it’s still unclear, from Deku’s perspective, how much he holds Bakugou accountable for how he treated him, so whether or not this would mean much to him is still in the air.

Anyway, on the note of Deku making his Quirk his own, an abrupt segue: I feel that Todoroki can also quite relate to that dilemma. After all, Deku was the one who had to break Shouto out of the mentality that his fire was an extension of his father, rather than his own. So a similar “It’s your power, isn’t it?” moment would make sense here. Both Deku and Shouto have this legacy that’s thrust upon them, but they shouldn’t necessarily be beholden to upholding them.

I think one of the main themes of BNHA is about legacy, and the trend, to me, is that the current generation can learn a lot from the previous generation, but ultimately, the heroes of now have to form a new, improved legacy, however that may be. After all, the current hero society is very flawed, and heroes like All Might and Endeavor contributed to its state (for better or worse), even if they also had merits at the same time. OFA and AFO, too, mimic that concept of legacy, in that the Quirks started as a feud between two brothers, and that it shouldn’t be Deku or Shigaraki’s responsibility to resolve it. Rather, their Quirks should be used to fulfill their own visions, regardless of what they are. So there’s something they could bond over, among other obvious things...

Obviously, there’s probably going to be more people and other various moving parts involved, but Bakugou and Todoroki were the ones I thought most about in regards to Deku’s development here (the former more than the latter, clearly). Maybe I’ll make a continuation later or probably not because I don’t care about the other characters nearly as much. Jokes aside, I do think the final battle is going to require more than Deku and Bakugou’s efforts, because I think this one showed that they certainly can’t do it on their own.

#meant to post this weeks ago but never got around to it #bnha manga #deku analysis

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judediangelo75 · 4 years ago

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How Talbott Dropped the Question

Hello everyone~

I have another fanfic featuring our resident bird boy at Hogwarts, Talbott. Ugh, I love him to death (and I would protect him at all costs). As most of you can guess by the title, this is how Talbott asked Judith to marry him. But of course there’s backstory, hope you don’t mind ^_^”.

Side note: This is kinda playing on the idea that the MC did run away.

Alright enough of my blabbering. Enjoy!

---------------------------

After the death of Talbott's parents, the young boy didn't want to let anyone else in his heart, fearing that he'll lose them too. Only other person who made him happy was a little girl that he never saw again after just one day together...

Coming to Hogwarts, he was sorted into Ravenclaw. He listened to Professor Flitwick give a welcome speech from the corner he resided in, watching everyone with cautious eyes.

Time seem to pass slowly. During that time, he befriended the most popular girl in his year, a Hufflepuff by the name of Penny Haywood. She was kind girl, a bit too preppy for his taste but he like the girl nonetheless. She was his only friend until his third year, where he met one of the Cursed Children, Judith Harris.

Anybody who read The Daily Prophet knows of what happened to best friends Jamal Harris and Jonah Brown.

How ironic that their sisters are best friends as well.

So they already had an infamous reputation preceding them.

Brooke ended up being sorted into his house. Judith had potential to become an Eagle as well, seeing how she experienced a Hat Stall between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. But she opted to become a Hufflepuff instead. Talbott was secretly glad for this development for awhile, seeing how her best friend was, he didn't believe that Ravenclaw could handle both of them at the same time.

At least, that's what he thought at first.

Hearing her voice for the very first time, Talbott was almost taken aback at how soft and almost shy it sounded. He had to look up from his book to make sure he was speaking to the right person. Sure enough, gold eyes bore into his own. Looking into her eyes, Talbott felt an unexplainable warmth inside his heart. He didn't understand it and pushed away as he interacted with the Hufflepuff witch.

As he slowly learns more about her, he realized that she was definitely more quieter and calmer than her scheming best friend. Though, he could tell she possess a sneaky side to her, judging by the smirks she would give him. As well as the mischievous spark that danced in those gold orbs.

During their time together helping her become an Animagus, Talbott watched her closely.

An old memory would come up to his mind where the little boy version of himself was watching the sunset in one of the trees the surrounded his home with a girl. He remembered promising her that he'll teach her to be just like him, hopefully that she would become an avian Animagus and they could go flying together. But they never got the chance to meet again, so Talbott thought he may never fulfill his promise...

Or so he thought.

It wasn't until after he got closer to Judith, after losing the necklace his mother gifted him, and following her to a graveyard is when he realized it.

That little girl was Judith.

Talbott couldn't believe that after all this time he was reunited with his little bird. He felt the feelings that he had as a child come back full force like a wrecking ball. To the point he found himself admiring the girl secretly from afar.

Words couldn’t describe his disappointment when Judith took down her locs. He loved them because it made her unique. It suited her. But he loved her hair in general, secretly yearning to tend to those dark brown curls...

His breath would catch in his throat whenever he sees her in top that reveals more of her skin and upper body. He noticed the scars that scatter on her chocolate skin. He would sometimes unconsciously curl his hands into fists whenever he feels the desire to touch and study her skin.

Sometimes when she's next to him or passing by, he finds himself taking in deeper breathes to take in the scent that seem to cling onto her hair and skin. She told him about her homeland and how the scent was mainly coconut and cocoa butter and he found himself secretly yearning for more of it. Where he wants to just to bury his face into her hair or her neck and just relax with her in his arms with that intoxicating scent wrapping around him.

He loved to look at her face. He could tell how she felt by her expression, some of them were just too funny not to chuckle at. Though one expression that gets him the most is when she pouts. He always does his best to look away or focus on some other part of her face, and not her tempting, full, soft lips...

There were times he found himself to be acutely aware of the sound of her voice. Especially when she sings, he would feel himself unconsciously relaxing to the sound of her voice then. If he didn't pay attention or hear her the one time that she was cursing Merula to hell and back, he could've sworn she was born and raised in Britain. But the foreign accent he remembers hearing as a child would slip on occasion. He liked how different it sounded, to him it was cute.

It wasn't until one day he finally realized what the hell was going on and why he feels like he gets butterflies every time she smiles at him-

He had a crush on her. A major crush on her...

And to his joy (and minor fear), she felt the same way about him too. Although he was happy about this development, he was also deeply confused. He was nothing like the other wizards at Hogwarts. Especially not like Andre, her Celestial Ball date.

He was loner and preferred it that way.

Plus... he wouldn't admit out loud that he was insecure about how he looked. With such sharp features for a 15 year old, a lot of people would give him strange looks. It didn't help that he hung out with the owls that the Owlery, people would whisper he was their long lost cousin.

To have a beautiful witch like Judith crush on the likes of him? He would've suspected some kind of prank.

But sure enough, when Judith shyly asked him out on a date, he sound himself at loss for words. And at the wrong time, since Madam Pince had them shelving books for being too loud. But when he spotted an opportunity, he called the girl over and said he accepted to go on a date with her. Her smile made him feel secretly excited for their date.

It was going to be a double date with Brooke and Penny. He was fine with that. He actually sought out the his friend's help, completely unsure of what to wear for his first date with his crush. They settled for a dark blue tux, a bronze tie and dress shoes to match. As the two waited outside Hogsmeade for their respective dates, Talbott couldn't help but to feel nervous. As he readjusted his tie, he couldn't help but to wonder what kind of outfit Judith would show up in and if he did too much showing up in a tuxedo to a tea shop.

When Brooke and Judith did arrive, while Penny was gushing over Brooke and her outfit, Talbott was blushing to the tips of his ears as he took in the Hufflepuff standing before him. Judith's face was just as flushed as she looked at Talbott who was openly staring at her. She wanted to clobber her best friend for putting her in an short off the shoulder dress, revealing a lot of skin-

"You look smart, Talbott." the girl blurted out, unable to handle the silence anymore. Talbott finally came back to reality after realizing that he was staring at his crush.

"Y-you look lovely, Judith..." That didn't sound as confident as he would like and he felt stupid when he realized that he didn't get to compliment her first.

He wanted to smack his forehead.

He was already messing up their first date and they haven't even gotten to the place yet!

The two pairs made it to there date spot and that's where things went downhill.

Talbott wasn't the social type whatsoever.

He had no idea what to talk about and he wanted to kick himself when Judith would glance at the entryway where Madam Puddifoot disappeared through to make their order, the discomfort obvious on her face.

It didn't help how beautiful his crush looked and he couldn't stop staring.

The retreating sunlight washed over her in a gentle glow. Her hair was pushed to one side, curls falling over her right shoulder while a red rose was tucked behind her left ear. Her eyelids were dusted with a dark shadow, enhancing those gold eyes. Her neck was free from any necklaces. Her bare shoulders and fully exposed neck was rather distracting...

To top everything off, Tonks and Charlie came to watch their date. Even though this encouraged conversation, it still felt a little awkward. They didn't remain so for long, seeing how Tonks knocked over a display of teacups that closed the shop.

The walk back to Hogwarts felt like the walk of shame.

This was suppose to Talbott's first date with the girl from his childhood. He felt like he ruined it for her. Which is why he went to the Courtyard to wallow in his shame.

Until Judith showed up...

He felt like his heart was suddenly in his throat as he watch the Hufflepuff take a seat next to him. When she said she wanted to talk about their first date, he had to distract her. He didn't want to hear the girl's inevitable rejection. His heart wasn't ready for that sort of blow...

But he couldn't keep up with the "shooting star" gist for long.

He knew he had to tell her the truth. He just silently prayed that she would quickly rip the bandage off...

He came clean to the girl, a little surprised to see that she was surprised when he hinted at her rejection.

They had a much needed "heart to heart" conversation, dispelling any fears and doubts that lingered between them. Ending it with the promise of a possible second date in their future...

As the two gazed up at the starry night sky, he heard Judith shuffle closer and the light touch of her fingertips against his. He glanced at her quickly to find her looking in the other direction. Taking a chance, he inched closer, laying his fingers on top of hers. He felt his heart race at the fond look that Judith graced him before their fingers intertwined. They looked up at the night sky to find a shooting star.

Talbott felt like he could never feel more complete outside of that very moment. Under the starry night sky, with Judith's warm hand intertwined with his own.

He was proven wrong.

It would be some time until their next date happened. It was February, which meant Valentines' Day was approaching and fast. Talbott never cared for the frivolous holiday.

He had no interested in anyone... until his little bird.

Their first date never left his mind. On more than one occasion, he finds his heart sighing after the young Hufflepuff whenever he saw her. He could still remember the feeling of her hand in his...

If he ever wanted to have a Valentine, he'd want it to be her.

Hell, his Valentine Howler made it bloody obvious. He felt quick to follow Brooke's example and light the Howler on fire as it spoke. Luckily no one was truly paying attention to him so he didn't need to take such drastic measures.

"Oh how my heart longs for you, pretty gold eyes..." Talbott turned red and immediately glanced at the Hufflepuff, silently relieved to know she didn't hear that.

So much for being innocent.

His feelings were definitely more intense than he expected...

As the day went on, Talbott felt like he could've gone without Gilderoy Lockhart and his party. But he was secretly glad to be working alongside his little bird.

As he was on a fruitless hunt for doves, Judith came to check on him. He tried to focus at the task at hand and not how on a night like this he was holding her hand.

Even with her help in their Animagus forms, they couldn't find any doves. Talbott felt annoyed that he was dragged into this party planning situation and that he was being forced to dress up in pink. But he couldn't lie that it would an opportunity to ask Judith out on another date with him. Especially if Lockhart's party was gonna be a complete mess, he could give her the Valentines' Day she deserved...

"You want to be my date too?!" Talbott caught onto her wording and felt his heart plummet to his feet.

"Too?" The girl blushed at her error.

"Er... I mean, again..." Talbott wanted to fly away but he knew that he had to ask to be sure.

"So, you've been asked to the party already?" The girl bit her lower lip.

"Yes but I didn't give him an answer..."

Him.

Andre.

A twisted feeling settled inside his chest.

'Is this what jealousy feels like?'

"Oh... I can give you time to decide then..." The Ravenclaw wizard didn't give the girl a chance to reply as he flew off.

When they finally decorating the tea shop, Talbott couldn't help but to feel slightly bitter at the idea that Andre and Judith will being having a date here after they came here on their first date. He meant what he said, there was only one person that he would want to go with, and that was her. Judging by Andre's words, she hasn't picked yet. But he wouldn't be surprised if she did pick the style wizard.

He was a nobody after all...

He would admit he was surprised when the girl requested to have a word with him for a moment. He wasn't sure what she had planned to say so he stuck to a party related topic. She giggled when he misread her answer and said she would love to be his date to the party. Talbott was surprised that she chose him over Andre.

But it didn't make him less happy to know that he's gonna have a second date with the girl that he couldn't stop thinking about.

Though he wasn't too keen on his outfit. He felt ridiculous. And felt it even more when Judith and Brooke walked in the tea shop for the party. The Hufflepuff was a similar dress to the one she wore on their first date but the sleeves were long and the dress gradients from pink to white. A black chain that had a blue and sliver ring on it resided around her neck.

One look in Talbott's direction, Judith stifled a giggle before walking towards him. Talbott felt a blush rush to his face.

"I know, I know. I look ridiculous." Gold eyes widen and Judith shook her head. Her high ponytail swaying behind her.

"No! I think you look rather cute, like a Muggle cowboy." She reassured the tall wizard, fiddling with the pink pendant around his neck. The young wizard looked down at her, skeptical.

"Are you sure you're not saying that to make me feel better?" Judith rolled her eyes and got her toes, placing a light kiss on the tip of his nose.

This was enough to set the boy's face ablaze.

"Of course I'm not just saying that, you silly goose. I like how you look..." Despite feeling like his face was melting off, Talbott smiled down at her.

Just Talbott expected, the party was a whole sham.

It pissed him off that Gilderoy Lockhart casted a misfired Memory Charm on everyone before apperating. He felt scared that Judith may have forgetting all about their date because of this.

Even when he patiently waited in the Transfiguration classroom holding a red rose with yellow tips, he felt the dread building in his system. He was scared that the girl forget about being his date to the party. Though it was too late to cancel as he heard the doorknob turn.

Judith was in awe of the grand display, reassuring her crush that she didn't forget about being his date. She was sincerely touched that the stoic Ravenclaw would plan such a romantic evening for the two of them.

Treasured items were exchanged that night, a symbol of the boy's heart and a ring that spoke who the girl's heart belonged to.

Talbott couldn't have felt more complete when he leaned over a pressed a chaste kiss on his little bird's cheek. The adoring look that she have him was cemented into his memory forever.

He felt like nothing could top this moment.

He was proven wrong yet again.

After Valentines Day, Talbott was strongly aware of his feelings for the girl. He knew what he wanted.

He wanted to be her's and for her to be his.

He wanted to be her boyfriend.

He knew that he wasn't like most wizards who would openly shower a girl with affection and such, but he knew he had deep feelings for the girl. Just like she did for him, she gave him a ring gifted to her by her grandmother for Gods' sake!

He'd figured it would be best to be direct about it. Seeing how it helped saved their two precious dates.

He asked her to accompany him on a walk through the forest, which she readily accepted. As they walked through the trees, he couldn't help but to notice how at peace she looked.

"So, Judith... T-there's something I... want to ask you..." The wizard stumbled and silently cursed his awkwardness. Gold eyes trained on him, paired with an adorable owl like head tilt.

"Yes?" Talbott took in a deep breath and reached out for her hand.

"Will... will you..." Talbott felt his face heat up as he tried to get the question out.

'OUT WITH IT!' His mind screamed, but his throat seem to close up. Caught up in his emotional turmoil, he missed the girl's smile or even noticed that she got closer. A soft kiss to his cheek finally brought him back to reality.

"Yes. I'll be your girlfriend, Talbott..." The Ravenclaw blushed but smiled nonetheless, hugging his now girlfriend close to his chest.

On top of their new found relationship, they had a small surprise. Talbott was in the witch's room, where she was sharing some of her memories that she kept in her little safe. She was showing an old Muggle romance novel when a white clover appear underneath one of the pages. Both seem to having a recurring memory of each other from their childhood, where Talbott gifted a white clover to Judith before never seeing each other again. As Judith touch the flower, both found themselves standing before their deceased parents.

It was then they realized that the other knew of their identity, remembering each other from childhood. Words couldn’t describe the relief and bliss they’ve felt in that very moment.

Until Talbott's mother starting talking about marriage. The two were flustered at this but they wouldn't oppose to the idea.

Judith thought about marriage, but as a mere fantasy. She thought no one would truly love her enough to even considering bonding to her for life.

Seeing her dead father for the first time in seven years brought tears to her eyes.

He would never be able to walk her down the aisle, which broke her heart.

Talbott has considered it as a passing thought. He knew what he felt for the girl, even when he never truly understood it as a child. It would be a dream come true to see her walk down the aisle to him in a wedding dress and have her proclaimed Judith Winger.

His wife.

He unconsciously rubbed her left ring finger, imagining what it would be like to feel a cool metal band around her finger.

His mother did make herself clear the next time she sees them, he better have "wifed her" or she'd box his ears...

As embarrassing the situation was, it became a lingering thought in the back of his mind.

A life with Judith, his little bird.

Marriage.

Living together.

Her becoming pregnant.

Them holding their baby.

Building a family.

He wanted that. All of it. She was everything to him, he wants to be with her forever.

But not everything seems to go according to plan.

Stress landed Judith in the Hospital Wing and Talbott fussed over his girlfriend, doing what he can to keep her calm. What meant to be an innocent massage lead to a passionate embrace, which was nothing new to the pair. They've been intimate before on a few occasions, Judith made sure to drink her potion that kept her from becoming pregnant.

Except Judith hasn't been keeping up with her potions. It wasn't until she went to tell Madam Pomfrey about her sudden sickness is when she realized what happened.

She was pregnant with Talbott's child.

The girl didn't know what to think, nearly becoming an emotional wreck when Madam Pomfrey informed her that she would have to tell her mother about this.

Whatever relationship that existed behind mother and daughter was destroyed when Sade disowned her daughter in front of the school's Headmaster and never looked back. Judith was left with a stinging cheek and a broken heart.

She had no real family left.

Her father was dead.

Her brother disappeared again after she freed him.

Her mother disowned her.

She was alone.

Then she remembered the father of the baby living inside her. Talbott was one of the brightest students of their year and they were so close to graduating, with just one more year and they would go into their respective careers.

He wanted to be an Auror. But now he was a father. They didn't plan for this.

Judith didn't know how to tell him.

So... she didn't.

Time passed and Judith didn't speak a word about their child. After finally cracking under the pressure of everything, Brooke and her decided to leave.

Judith could resign to the idea of not really having a future becoming a professional Healer like her father.

She made peace with that.

But she refused to bring Talbott down with her. He had a chance.

With a tearful letter leaving out any mention of their unborn child, Judith left Hogwarts. Helping train her best friend during the months she was still light enough before taking a plane back to her homeland.

During that time, Talbott felt like he regressed back to the time when he first came to Hogwarts.

This time, it was the loss of the girl he loves.

She was all he had left, he would follow her to the ends of the Earth if it meant staying by her side. Her ring nearly never left his finger. Bill seemed to be the only one who understood what the young man was going through, considering he felt like he was going through the same. The two men became close during this time period.

It would be months before the two crossed paths again. After finding out the whole truth, Talbott left Hogwarts and Britain to head to Barbados, the land Judith was born and raised. Where he stayed to be with his girlfriend and son, Bakari. He was surprised to see how the little boy came out to be the perfect mix of the two. He had Talbott's skin color and red eyes but the facial features of his mother. Most of his hair was dark brown like Judith's but he had a tuft of hair that hung over his forehead that resembles Talbott's.

He was their little miracle.

After months of tension, Judith and Talbott had a necessary heart to heart which lead them to being in each other's loving embrace.

As much Judith felt happy to be with him again, she still want Talbott to achieve his dream. But he made himself clear that he wasn't going anywhere if she wasn't with him. Judith relented and offered a deal. If he agreed to go back to Hogwarts, she'll return with him to stay in Hogsmeade. But she will not be attending the school since she still needs to be there for their son. Talbott agreed, as well stating he'll be keeping her up on their studies. Judith grumbled at this but agreed nonetheless.

The two flew back to Scotland. With Brooke's and Dumbledore's help, they were able to get a small house in Hogsmeade. Some of the group that associated themselves with Brooke and Judith were curious to where Talbott could've gone for nearly a whole year, but Talbott never answered them.

Not even Penny, who was his first friend at Hogwarts.

Penny was suspicious to where Talbott would go every few days. She would normally respect her friend's space but eventually she cracked.

She followed Talbott out one day in Hogsmeade. She was surprised to see him enter a house. Doing her best to stay quiet, she peeked through a window to find a surprise. Judith holding a young babe in her arms, but the child looked like both of them. Putting two and two together as she watched the couple share a kiss, Penny stared on wide eyed.

Judith was pregnant with Talbott's baby.

She nearly squeaked when the little boy suddenly stared out of the window and directly at her. She quickly left before Judith and Talbott realized she was there. But she didn't hesitate to tell Jamal and Jonah about Judith.

Who later that night, paid the young witch and her little family a visit. Jonah nearly got thrown out of a window when he started demanding on his sister's whereabouts, but a simple hug and kiss from Talbott helped calm her down. As Judith continued to converse with her brother and Jonah from Talbott's lap, his mind was occupied with something else.

He felt a bit angry that Penny found about this, but he wasn't ashamed.

He loved Judith.

He loved Bakari.

And he loved their little family.

Watching Judith interact with their son filled him with a sense of warmth that he could never truly describe. She was such a wonderful mother and loving partner. Everything nearly felt complete. The only thing missing was a ring on her finger...

Fast forward nearly a year and half after graduation and becoming an Auror, and thanks to his prodding Judith was able to "graduate" and become a Healer, he sat in front of Jamal Harris as the older man processed his words.

"So let me get this straight, you want my blessing so you can marry my baby sister," he recounted. Talbott gave him a single nod. Jamal grew to respect Talbott a bit more, seeing how he takes care of his sister and little nephew. But he was still her big brother at the end of the day, he'll always be protective of Judith.

Especially after missing out on so many years of her life.

"Why do you think I should give you my blessing, huh," Jamal stubbornly asked. Talbott sighed, predicting this.

"Your father seems to be happy with the idea of me marrying your sister. He sees something in me deeming me worthy of her." Jamal stiffen and glared.

"Watch your words, Winger. You don't even know my father." Talbott knew that bringing up Kendrick would be a sensitive topic for the man before him. From what he remember, Judith told him that Jamal ran away just several weeks before their father's death. To suddenly to come back to hear about his father's death, struck a cord in Jamal. And Talbott is more than happy to give him the closure he needs.

"Jamal, do you trust me?" Gold eyes narrowed at him.

"Why are you asking me this," Jamal asked instead. Talbott ignored his question and asked again. Seeing how he's not going anywhere, Jamal let out a simple "I guess". This was good enough for Talbott. Going into the bedroom he and Judith shared, went under the bed to retrieve the safe Judith showed him. Whispering the password, the safe unlocked, revealing the contents inside. He quickly grabbed what he needed and moved the safe back to it's original place before returning to where Jamal sat.

Before Jamal could ask what Talbott was doing, the Auror grabbed his hand with the shark tooth enclosed in between.

"What the f- Where the hell are we, Winger," Jamal growled as he looked around, bewildered.

"Aye, don't be disrespecting my resting place with all that noise, young man." Jamal stiffen at the voice he hasn't heard in years. Turning in the direction which it came from, Jamal stared in shock at who he saw. Talbott felt like it was just yesterday whereas he had the same reaction as Jamal.

Kendrick was sitting in the exact same position as the time Talbott met the man, in the same white clothes and all.

"D-Dad... is... is it really you," Jamal asked, his voice much softer. Tears sprang in the young man's eyes, blurring the image of his father. Jamal gasped when he felt a pair of strong, familiar arms wrap around him in a tight hug.

"It's good to see you too, son," Kendrick whispered, hugging his boy close. The dam broke and Jamal outright bawled into his father's shoulder, not caring if it wasn't really manly.

He missed his dad.

Talbott watched the scene silently. It reminded him where Judith and her father were in that same exact position. The Harris siblings were truly close with their father and it showed tremendously. It was also kinda interesting to see that Jamal didn't resemble his father too much other than eyes and hair color...

"H-How is this p-possible. Judith showed me..." Jamal trailed off as he remember the time his sister brought him to their father's grave.

November 27th, 1981.

Their dad's birthday and deathday.

The same damn year he ran away.

His dad been dead for years and he nearly truly known until he wanted to check in with how his family was doing. Only to watch from a distance to find his mother home but his father was nowhere around. It wasn't until he read an old article of the Daily Prophet when he learned of his father's passing. He felt guilty about it ever since. To see his father for the first time in years... he could've sworn he was dreaming.

"I am dead. Make no mistake son," Kendrick said as Jamal winced at his bluntness. Definitively a trait his sister got from him.

"But when I died, I left my magic imprint on my old necklace and gave it to your sister. That's how I met Talbott again many years ago." Jamal's brows furrowed.

"What do you mean by again," he asked. The older Harris smirked.

"Do you remember Ava and Trent?" Jamal still looked lost until his father motioned to a mirror. Which was replaying a memory from when he was a little boy. A couple walked up to him and his father while they were at Honeydukes. The woman had Talbott's hair and skin color and the man looked like an older version him. Jamal's eyes went wide.

"Those are..."

"My parents," Talbott finally spoke up. Jamal looked at him and back at the memory.

"They were my old friends back in my Hogwarts days. We stayed in touch over the years, even after Talbott and your sister were born. We managed to arranged for them to meet twice before our deaths," Kendrick summarized as he watched his son look at the memory of Talbott and Judith as toddlers and then as little kids.

"Ava always wanted to bring these two together but we couldn't make it make before we died. Luckily, they found each other again on their own," Kendrick said with a fond smile in Talbott's direction. Jamal turned to his father.

"But Dad, how can you trust him after he-OW!" Kendrick smack Jamal upside his head. Kendrick's eyes were steely.

"I know of their son, Bakari. Things happen Jamal. I don't hold against Talbott for getting Judith pregnant. It was her choice to keep Bakari. Just like it was his choice to willingly abandon Hogwarts to be with her and their son. You will not fault him on a situation that happened years ago and he's done his best to make the most of it," Kendrick said coldly. Jamal rubbed the back of his head, he felt like he was a child being chided for doing something stupid...

"Bloody hell, you hit like Judith," he grumbled. Kendrick let out a dark chuckle.

"Good. I expect nothing less from my little girl. If I can't be around to strike fear into the hearts of the men around her, I want her to do it herself." Talbott and Jamal both shuddered, seeing a variations of her rage and strength.

"But I trust Talbott here with Judith’s heart. Which is why he already has my blessing," Kendrick said. Talbott gave the older Harris a grateful smile, fiddling with the ring Judith gave him years ago.

Kendrick saw this and smirked.

"And I'm sure my mother would've said the same thing..." Jamal's eyes went wide, recognizing the ring.

"I always wondered why that ring looked so familiar. That's the same ring that Judith always wore around her neck..." Talbott blushed and nodded.

"Mercy gifted it to her before she died. That ring is only able to fit the person Judith loves wholeheartedly. If not, the ring will immediately reject the person. I'd like to think my mother would've loved you Talbott..." Talbot felt his blush grew worse.

Now he didn't know that part...

Jamal studied the Auror in silence before cracking a small smile.

"If my grandmother and dad are able to trust you, Wi- Talbott... then I have no reason to stand your way. Especially since you help me after I've been such a hardass... you have my blessing to marry my sister." Talbott gave the Harris men a smile.

"Thank you, both of you. I'll take good care of her, I promise..."

---------------------

"This is lovely," Judith breathed out a gentle sigh as she leaned against Talbott's chest. They were able to moved into an apartment, slightly bigger than the previous home they resided in their 7th year.

It was New Year's Eve. Bakari was sound asleep and the couple were watching the night time sky from the couch outside on the balcony, awaiting the fireworks. Talbott gave a small nod, willing his heart not to pound out of his chest. He had the small black box in his pocket and as the moment grew closer, he felt himself grow more nervous.

"Something wrong, love?" He heard Judith ask before she planted those soft lips against his cheek. The young man bit lip as he glanced at his watch to check the time. 11:55 PM.

"There's nothing wrong, darling. But there is something I would like to say," he said softly. Judith leaned off his chest and turned to face him properly.

"What is it?" Talbott took a deep breath.

Now or never...

"I honestly would've never thought I would see myself in this the position. I never thought I would feel a bond so indescribable as the one we share ever since we were children. I never thought I would lose my parents at such a young age. I never thought I would ever find the same happiness I felt from we met when we were 7 years old. Until I met you again. Neither of us fully realized who the other was until we met the others’ parents again. It was hard to express how I felt when I saw you through your father's memories. You looked so happy and carefree before you came to Britain. Even more so when we met again... But your smile dimmed when your brother disappeared... and you lost the same glow when Kendrick died. And I wanted nothing more but to bring that back. To make you feel like you were never alone. Like you never lost your smile. To make you feel loved. You're precious and dear to me, Judith. I've loved you for a long time, even before I could truly realize the depth of my feelings. You gave me something worth living for. You gave me you and Bakari... and I'll be damned if I let anything happen to either of you..." Talbott watched as a cute blush colored his beloved's adorable confused face.

"W-Why are you telling me all this," she asked softly. She watched as her boyfriend slid off the couch to kneel before her on one knee. Those who were out enjoying the holiday began chanting the countdown.

"I'm telling you this because I love you, Judith Harris. And I wish to spend the rest of my life with you..." Judith gasped as she watched Talbott reach into his pocket to pull out a small box. Her vision grew misty and she rapidly blinked away any tears, wanting to make sure this was real.

That she wasn't dreaming.

That Talbott was-

"Judith Harris, my sweet little bird and queen of my heart, will you marry me," Talbott softly asked as he displayed the ring he picked out.

Judith smiled at Talbott, a single tear sliding down her face. In the distance, they could hear the people approaching the T minus 10 countdown.

"Yes... yes I will marry you," Judith whispered. Talbott smiled at her, the brilliance of his smile rivaled the stars twinkling above them. He held her left hand and slipped the ring onto her finger. Judith leaned in and kissed him just as the fireworks went off.

"I love you, Talbott," she whispered against her fiancé's lips. Talbott chuckled, looking at her with an adoring gaze.

"I love you too, my future wife..."

#hogwarts mystery #hphm mc #hphm talbott #talbott x jacob's sibling #talbott winger #hogwarts mystery talbott #talbott x mc #judith harris

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angelic-serenade · 5 years ago

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request: 🌟 Hellou!! I love ur work!! ❤️❤️❤️ Is it possible tó ha e a Alastor and younger(like 4 years younger) reader who have nightmares of his death sonetimes, cause she saw itt Back then, and go to big bother Alastor for comfort? 🦌

requested by: anon

a/n: okay so this was supposed to be a quick one-shot but my hand slipped and I wrote 9500+ words instead. oops. anyway, I hope this meets your expectations, enjoy!

gif, original work and characters do not belong to me

pairing: Alastor x sister! reader

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

warnings: mentions of death, bit of angst, traumatic events, toxic relationship if you squint, Alastor being Alastor but softer for reader

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It never rained down in Hell, no matter how ardently you had sometimes wished to feel the drops pouring down your robes. Even during your longest nights, the ones haunted by nightmares and long-forgotten memories resurfacing at your weakest, it would never rain like it did in those Gothic Novels your darling brother used to read you back in the day: you were no virtuous protagonist and never would the skies cry for your misery. It was probably one of the worst downsides of being stuck in Hell for all eternity: the equally eternal blood red sky forever looming over your head, serving as a reminder of your infernal punishment.

When you'd wake up in the middle of the night, after a particularly vivid nightmare, there was no pouring rain to muffle the sound of your hopeless wailings, no thunder to distract your spinning mind from its panic. Therefore, you found yourself continously seeking comfort from the only person you held dear to your now dead cold heart: Alastor, The Radio Demon, whom you had the privilege to refer to as your darling brother (at least in the privacy of your own bedchamber) - older brother to be precise, even if only by a few years. You had always been extremely fond of your sibiling, looking up to him as a role model - definitely not your wisest decision since it had landed you among the sinners of Hell. That's not to say you had any regrets, Heaven seemed like an awfully dreadful and boring place if you were to be completely honest.

Alastor, on his part, had affectionately doted on you back on the surface, taking his little sweetling under his protective wing as if his sole purpose in life had been to take care of you. As a consequence, on more occasions than you cared to remember, you had felt utterly asphixiated by your brother's undivided attention all your life, and quarrels had been a daily occurrence whenever his protective behavior clashed with your own desire for freedom. Your lovely mother had always been there to try and defuse your heated altercations, the poor woman; your dear brother and you, however, both shared the same stubbornness and desire to prevail on others, so that whenever your strong personalities came to oppose, trouble was always certain to follow suit.

You wished you'd appreciated his concerns more when you had been given the chance. Now in the afterlife, shows of affection were hard to come by. Mayhap that had been the worst punishment inflicted upon you after death: the privilege of having your dear brother by your side without actually being able to cherish and bask in his caring regards. Mayhap the illustrious Dante had been right in his musings all along: the law of retaliation had taken away from you the one thing you had never really appreciated in life, making you realize just how much you had taken for granted. Now that your brother had become Hell's greatest menace, an overlord to make things worse, weakness in any shape or form could and would not be tolerated under any circumstance, for both his and your sake.

Luckily, no demon in the seven circles suspected that the feared Radio Demon had any siblings to begin with, thanks to Alastor's foresight.

Your identity was to be kept secret at all costs in order to avoid undesired repercussions. If anyone were to even suspect you had any kind of connection to the Radio Demon - Alastor had told you - overlords and lesser demons alike would be at your throat in the span of a heartbeat. If given the chance, no enemy of his would ever hesitate to stoop as low as to attack him were it hurt the most, where he was most vulnerable. And that chance, he was not willing to give any time soon. You both had already died once and you were not keen on repeating the experience.

So you had followed his every order ever since your fall into the pits, leading a life death away from your darling brother and his chaotic ways - the one thing he hadn't been able to prevent in life -, keeping a low profile as a common denizen of Hell. Alastor would unsuspiciously check up on you every now and then, but his visits had been as rare as it was to see an angel in Hell - seeing him once a year was truly an unfair torture. Time went by and you grew more and more lonely as you mostly kept to yourself and wasted your days away in a nice apartment away from prying eyes. You were a nobody in Hell, and that was how things were meant to be.

Things changed when Alastor unexpectedly showed up at your doorstep for the second time in a year, blabbering about the newest project he'd involved himself with. His words betrayed unusual enthusiasm, a mood you had learned to be usually spurred on by the prospect of carnage and bloodshed or his precious radio broadcasts. Whenever he came to see you, he always showered you in gifts and praise, but it had been centuries since you had seen your brother so excited over... anything, really. Therefore, witnessing his cheeriness brought a genuine smile on your face. You were a little jealous you weren't the reason why he felt so giddy, but you couldn't complain as spending time with him was the greatest gift you could ever ask for these days. So when he told you you'd be moving into this phantomatic Hazbin Hotel, where he'd be staying for a while as well, you were impossibly ecstatic. Alastor had gently caressed your cheek and, in one of his rare moments of tenderness, softened his voice as if to lull you away:

“My dear, it has always pained me so to leave you here to your lonesome, but I am certain you understand that I always ever meant to protect you from harm.”

Unexpectedly, as most of his actions were, your dear brother spun you around into his arms as if he were coaxing you into a dance - which would probably be the case, knowing him. His words were impossibly haughty now, as if a switch had gone off in his mind:

“But now sweetling, now the time has come to finally put an end to this painful arrangement. You'll be joining me at this whimsical Hazbin Hotel our dear princess is so enthusiastic about!”

You knew better than to question Alastor and his ways, so you simply nodded your approval, glad to finally be able to leave that god forsaken apartment you had been locked in for far more than you cared to admit. And so you moved to the hotel - still keeping your true identity a secret, mind you. You were introduced as one of Alastor's acquantances, much like both Niffty and Husk were. Nobody questioned your unexpected presence and Charlie (much more than everybody else) welcomed you with opened arms into her precious hotel. When you offered to lend a hand with whatever she needed, she was utterly ecstatic. All in all, you were quick to adapt to the new situation.

The new accommodation, however, brought about quite a lot of new issues as well.

Spending so much time with Astor, for one, even if pretending not to be as close as siblings should be, awakened long forgotten memories about your life on Earth, most of which you would have preferred to keep locked away. During your very busy days, you were able to distract yourself from your scattered thoughts and memories; at night, however, your subconscious relentlessly haunted you in the form of nightmares and there was nothing you could really do to prevent it.

It was inevitable that you'd start losing sleep, as the only way to evade the cage that your mind had become was not to sleep at all. Astor had grown increasingly worried about your sleep-deprived state, even if he tried not to show it, masking his concern with his usual smile and charming talks:

“You will chase away any potential patrons looking so disheveled and shabby, my dear. Charlie will surely be heartbroken.”

You wouldn't have put it past him to manipulate you through guilt, but you knew that Alastor was truly worried about your health. His gaze, cryptic to most, felt all too familiar to you, just like the expressiveness of his smile held no secrets from you anymore. Needless to say, as fond of him as you were, you tried to sleep once again.

Then one night everything changed: it had been the worst night of your undead life, and the best one too.

The deafening sound of gunshots had echoed through your unconscious mind, increasingly loud footsteps and dogs barking so loud that you subconsciously jerked in your sleep. A call to your name, desperate, hopeless and scared. You saw him, his beautiful maroon eyes that had once only pooled in fondness for you, now dark and miserable. But they held promise too, a promise to fulfill maybe someday, in another life.

“I'm sorry (Y/N)”

His smile had dropped.

So had you.

You woke up screaming, trashing about in your bed. Sweat clung to your brow, your mind in a frenzied panic searched for something concrete and real to cling to. Was your brother alright? Satan, you hoped so. He had to be, he couldn't leave you again, you had to go to him, to see him, you didn't want to lose him again, you wouldn't bear the pain - you almost tripped in the bedsheets as you scrambled to the door.

When you arrived to Alastor's door, you had yet to calm down. You rapidly knocked on the hard wood, agitation evident in both your jerky movements and shivering hands.

“Alastor, Alastor, please. Open up. It's me” you desperately whispered.

As the door gently opened, your brother stepped into the darkness of the hallway and you unceremoniously flung yourself to him, clinging to his neck as if it were your lifeline. Your tears wet his robes, but you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to apologize. You felt like you had almost lost him again after all those years of seclusion.

But he was alive and he was with you. That's all you could hope for and far more than you thought you deserved.

Alastor uncharacteristically started to pat your head, as if trying to console you even though he had little to no experience in that area. His movements were uncertain, but as you lifted your head from his chest to gaze into his eyes, you realized no words would ever convey as much affection as Alastor's eyes did in that brief moment. His smile never faltered - even if it had become a bit strained - but you hadn't expected it to. It made you smile through your tears, despite yourself. You realized in that moment you'll forever be the only one allowed to touch Alastor without eliciting his wrath. That fact alone enough for you to truly appreciate the amount of control he'd give up in order to comfort you. He gently brought you to his bed and sat you down next to him.

“Are you quite alright sister dear? You know, those awful tears don't suit you at all! I rather much prefer your blinding smile!”

You smiled wider this time, for him, to let him know that you were indeed grateful.

“Oh, now that wasn't so difficult, was it?”

When he kissed your forehead, you almost broke up crying once again: it had been so long since you and your brother had been so close. The gesture warmed your long dead heart and you tried to return the favor by kissing his cheek. Nobody had ever been that intimate with the Radio Demon and lived to tell the tale, but in that moment he was no demon of hell: he was just Alastor, your dear brother who had doted on you in life and kept protecting you in death too - even though his ways weren't the most orthodox.

“I missed you Al. Please, don't ever leave me again.”

“I most certainly shall not, my sweet little darling. It's a promise.”

You were glad he let you stay with him for the rest of the night. No words were needed as he brought you close and took your hands into his. You both laid on the bed, in a rare moment of peace and quiet. It reminded you of your childhood on Earth and how you'd always sneak out of your room during the night to sleep next to him - you had always been afraid of the dark after all. Only in your adulthood had you learned that there are worse things than darkness one should fear.

After eons of suffering and terrible loneliness, everything finally fell into its rightful place.

Alastor was safe and so were you.

That was all that mattered.

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schiste-argileux · 4 years ago

Note

Idw Prowl is an evil SOB (took him two years to send the Wreckers to Garrus-9 and help Maxy (who was protecting all the war crimes the Bots did), put Maxy’s torturer and a war criminal on board the Lost Light cuz why not, sent Pharma to Delphi knowing it was DJD territory)

Prowl... Prowl’s creation and competence in his area of work is astounding. He is brilliant, creative, and defiantly apathetic of this world. But, he is very human in his own way. IDW Prowl is selfish, yet not. He is a unique in that aspect because most people make decisions like his for the sole reason of benefiting themselves. But Prowl’s sole reason of existing is to create PEACE.

Peace. Peace can only be done when people are complacent, happy, and satisfied. When things are stationary. Stable.

But life is never stable. Elements desire to form bonds, yet are almost always leaning towards to instability... Prowl’s form of PEACE is a world where there is no fighting. But everything sentient requires to fulfill its desires. As long as there is desire, people will fight.

A world of PEACE would be a world of full control, there are no surprises, no change. Safety, routines, and constants. No creativity, no development... nothing. stagnant.

But I must admire Prowl’s tenacity and dedication to this world!

He sacrifices everything for the sake of the directive, preserve cybertron, PEACE. He sacrifices his morals (Robot Gets Bullied By a Human), his dignity (Recent News, Cop Accepts Orgy For The Means of Establishing Peace, his body (Recent News, Cop gets Molested by A Spider for The Autobot Cause), and of course, thousands of lives (Not Recent News). :D Prowl respects and understands that there will always be chaos and instability, and he is so very flexible around it all! He literally can maximize everything and anything he has. He is the embodiment of consequentialism with a lil dash of politics. I wish my group project members were 1% as productive as him! Prowl tries to put everything black and white, and he gets upset when things get far more tricky, and wants to get everything in control so people can stay safe and remain in peace and not fight! And that’s a respectable goal! Control can be good, it means one understands and is able to retain themselves and the thing they are controlling. But Prowl doesn’t want to accept that there are things out of his control. And Prowl likes to think he’s justified when he controls the uncontrollable.

I mean, yeah, if he didn’t do what he did, the autobots would have been six feet under A LOT EARLIER. Optimus is not a good leader, preserving organic life over his own soldiers? Psh. Look at Spike, he’s got valid points and can I understand why he left the ‘bots. Prowl’s probably thinking everyday, DAMN, OP, WHY R U SO DUMB. LISTEN WE NEED TO FEED OUR SOLDIERS AND PRIORITIZE OUR SPECIES LIVES INSTEAD OF THIS FUCKING CARBON BASED CIRCLE. HELLO??? And literally Prowl could have been like I’m gonna get ya assassinated so I CAN HAVE IT MY WAY. But Prowl was BORN for the RULES. To follow, to MAKE PEACE. Killing the prime figurehead is against that, even if it would make his life way easier! (hence, not that selfish and also sad that your life is the rules. That’s a short leash, but he makes due)

Honestly I feel bad for Prowl. Must suck to be so big brain that everyone hates you when you say the truths (but also you could learn some more tricks from Jazz to be nicer and hide the truth, but that’s scary because a nicer prowl means more people he can trick and use. Thanks Prowl for being so straightforward! Now people can avoid you easier). He's so straightforward about things that need to be done, he’s in constant denial about the grey area of life!

That’s why when Spike slapped Prowl with reality slaps, Prowl lost some of his shit. Remember, nearly everyone had the edgy depressed time in their teens or young adult years where you realize the world is truly unfair and nothing is black and white? Yeah. Slap that on a 6+ million year old robot with a battle computer and is capable of big brain CPU-age, and was literally built for the sole purpose of enforcing rules and making peace? And no one really cared about Prowl enough to understand him and his background. So Prowl goes through his angst moment alone with his huge titties, frustrated. THIS. IS. WHY. YOU. COMMUNICATE. YA DINGUS.

Prowl doesn’t become a school shooter like Pharma cuz hes got bigger brain and a lot more power and control over himself, but he literally becomes Shadow The Hedgehog (Even if the world’s against me I’ll fight like I’ve always have). HE’S GONE ROGUE. MA’AM, SIR, THE FUCKING OREO COOKIE HAS TRANSFORMED AND ROLLED OUT. like. OP was the one thing holding prowl back, which was good! But now prowl’s on the roll and bumblebee is too nice and passive to hold him back. + the bombshell brainwash? feels so bad. being prowl sucks. because Prowl is a necessary evil.

At least he’s wonderfully blunt about his goal to create a peaceful cybertron, which makes it easier if you want to avoid him or smth. meanwhile you have fake people IRL that smile their way through and then slit your throat and you won’t even know it was them (hey jazz, no offense, but that’s what spec ops does). Fakers are the scariest enemy, but Prowl is still a threat, just not as big as a someone who fluffs you up on a balloon and then pops it. Prowl would just be like, hey, you’re really useful, come over here in my white van i wanna show you something and then maybe you get destroyed. But hey! You were the one with the highest chance of surviving compared to other people! Isn’t that great? You’re so skilled WOW. (Prowl gets punched. Again!) Prowl represents the necessary evil in society. We WILL ALWAYS HAVE EVIL people in this world. But Prowl is a far better evil than people who do evil for their own selfish reasons. It’s like how we have law enforcers and politicians . It’s basically giving them legal rights to do illegal things (lmao). BUT we need them regardless. We need those people to get their hands dirty, possibly killed, so that people can live in innocence and peace.

I don’t think Prowl ever realized that he was a necessary evil, and when Spike showed him that, he was bitter. But he accepted it. Which I respect because most people can’t be bothered to understand themselves and just throw themselves in denial, and point fingers for their flaws. Prowl sucks up and understands who he is, and he makes the best of it to achieve his goal. I mean, honestly? Prowl is probably a miracle worker. Not in a Ratchet sense. But look at the way modern governments run, nothing gets done, everything is stalled because no one has the guts to make sacrifices. Prowl would have gotten a shit ton of things done, man, and take quick efficient action. Even if he sacrifices many things for it. (Warning. I do not condone any taking of lives, NO ONE has the right to judge whenever a person should live or die.) Prowl reminds me of 秦始皇 (Qin Shi Huang), the king who unified China and sacrificed millions to make the Great Wall, canals, and road systems that last to this day. If it wasn’t for these accomplishments, China wouldn’t have been what it is today. Was it a good thing? For the future residents of China? Hell yeah. But the costs? Those are sins that can never be erased, and they are horrible and shouldn't be done ever again. Was it necessary? Perhaps. But that’s another discussion. Is Prowl evil? Depends on your definition of evil. Perhaps he’s justified, perhaps in his world, he’ll go down as the Qin Shi Huang of the Cybertronians. Regardless, Prowl like Pharma, is an EXCELLENT example to study on public ethics, and administrative officials should analyze him and learn from his mistakes and sins. I think Prowl is not evil in a sense that he wishes to harm others, but evil in a sense of his apathy. Prowl is a necessary component to a functional society (someone to plot, to use people, to enforce rules even if some are sacrificed, someone who can get their hands dirty). He lives a terrible and sad fate, and I do not wish ANYONE to live a life like Prowl’s or look up to Prowl. Yes, he’s so clever and brilliant, but that kind of power will make you the loneliest person on Earth.

Thanks Prowl for taking the entire load of sin on your shoulders! Big MVP! You get nothing from the world except hate and contempt. I would go on about him more but I have IRL stuff to do. I love Prowl as an example to tell people that MODERATION. COMMUNICATION. AND COMPASSION are important factors to have a healthy and good mental state. Prowl is the perfect example of someone who doesn’t want to empathize (haha so many people are like this today), who doesn’t want to try to use more braincells and friends help to make better plans that are more moderate and not extreme, and who doesn’t want to talk to anyone thinking its a waste of time or have difficulty explaining things. BUT I LOVE G1 PROWL because he has far more patience and manners, and doesn’t take a darker, route for his goals. awhohdohd he’s baby,,, i wish all cops had patience and manners and in general open-minded yet cautious enough not to be taken advantage of,,,, perhaps then we wouldn’t have so much polarization and fighting with authority in this world....

uwuwwuwuwuw they did prowl so dirty in idw WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ;____; Again, you are welcome to disagree or agree! I wrote this really quickly so I’m sure there will be points that could be clarified or edited. Prowl’s really complicated and I do not like to talk about current IRL problems, but Prowl represents a lot of problems in society. And I think it’s critical if we try to look at both perspectives to get an understanding on WHY people do these things, and is there a solution to AVOID making those same mistakes? There’s a couple of controversial things in this short essay I wrote, esp. about cops IRL. So feel free to have at it! Or ignore it! Whichever is more comfortable for you! Thanks for coming to my ted talk! Again, Prowl is a bad influence and a sorrowful life to live. please do not try to be like prowl. xD I won’t intrude on you if you do, because you have a right to live the life you want as long as you’re not hurting other people’s interests and wellbeing!

#prowl #transformers #idw #asks #omfg #prowl is so horrible to write about #ugh #oof #idw prowl is the bane of my existence #i love g1 prowl

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peachyqueenly · 4 years ago

Text

Alone

Sea Fairy has a favor to ask of Mocha Ray... and it may change both of their lives forever.

“... what are you suggesting, Sea Fairy?”

Mocha Ray could do nothing but stand there; dumbfounded at the suggestions being put forward. It was shocking enough that, of all the priestesses, she was called upon by the one and only Sea Fairy. Further shocking was where Sea Fairy had them meet—a frozen tower just above the surface she didn’t know existed until today. And... this suggestion that required the two of them to come to a spot so secluded from their home? Maintaining an air of calmness, the priestess continued, “I understand things might not be ideal right now... but, such a drastic action would be--”

“Unthinkable?” Sea Fairy nonchalantly finished Mocha Ray’s thought.

“I... yes.” Mocha Ray said. Unthinkable was exactly what this was. Sighing, she explained, “You are suggesting we, not only ask that the citizens of Sugarteara abandon their homes, but that I seal you within the temple... alone. With that pearl in its sorry state.”

“Yes, I am.” Sea Fairy said with a conviction unlike her. She did not like this idea any more than this up-and-coming Priestess did. Not only because of what it could mean for her own life, but because it could possibly mean she would never see her love again. The consequences of allowing the sacred pearl... no, not just the pearl. The consequences of both her heart and the pearl succumbing to darkness, however, were far more disastrous and unthinkable than anything else. Maintaining her conviction, she continued, “I know you and others in the temple have been trying your best, but I am the only one who can prevent the worse from happening. Because... b-because...”

“Because...?

“Because the darkening is my fault!!”

Mocha Ray could only stand in shock at this sudden loss of composure. This was the creator of Sugarteara, the normally calm and nonchalant Sea Fairy, showing a burst of emotion. Her emotions reaching their peak like an all too powerful wave crashing down. The priestess could not help but wonder if was she the only one to ever see this side of the sea goddess.

“I-I must apologize.” Sea Fairy, averting her gaze, quickly came back from her prior outburst. “But please... let me explain...”

“Of course, Sea Fairy. I am all ears” Mocha Ray stated, nodding her head.

Sighing in preparation, Sea Fairy looked back at Mocha Ray and said, “As you and the others of the temple know, the sacred pearl is a portion of my power given to the city. It is one of the many reasons why Sugarteara’s citizens revere me. But my gift is darkening; and to keep it simple, it is because my heart is as well.”

“Y-your heart?” Mocha Ray stuttered. What could that possibly mean? No one at the temple had considered the pearl’s current state could be a result of Sea Fairy. Let alone resulting from something like her heart darkening... whatever that meant. Still confused, the priestess asked, “If you don’t mind, what does it mean for your heart to darken?”

“I’m... not entirely sure myself.” Sea Fairy admitted. In truth, she had yet to figure out the full scope of the problem. She knew of the loneliness that resulted in this process; however, she could not fully grasp the scope of what this could mean for the entire ocean. After pausing for a second, she continued, “I know it stems from what one could call loneliness. And... I know it has been causing my powers to become more erratic and uncontrollable.”

“Loneliness? But... you are the most revered creature in the ocean!! The most respected--”

“Respect is not a cure for loneliness... in fact, it can cause loneliness when taken too far.” Sea Fairy stated, and then explained further, “I am deified to the point that no one would approach me for any reason other than worship and guidance.”

“I...” Mocha Ray wanted to say she was wrong. Wanted so badly to tell her it would be an honor for anyone in the ocean to be her friend. But... that desire to honor the goddess was the problem. And what was she, but the prime example of what Sea Fairy was talking about? A priestess who worships and only interacts with someone so powerful when called upon... as she was today. Knowing arguing was futile, she moved on to her next point, “I... See. And so, you believe the best course of action is to seal yourself within the temple and dedicate all your strength to preserving both the pearl and your heart?”

Sea Fairy nodded. This was her fault to begin with, and so it should fall on her to prevent the worse from happening. Even if it meant she would be alone. Even if... it meant she would never see Moonlight again. But, perhaps, using all her strength to maintain the ocean’s balance would outweigh her loneliness... she could hope, right?

“I assume the dangers your powers present is the reason you want the evacuation as well?”

“Yes... you would be right.”

“That makes sense. There is one thing I don’t quite understand, however.” Mocha Ray began to say, before offering her final question, “Why me? Why, of everyone you could talk to, did you choose to tell me?”

“Because I trust you.” Sea Fairy quickly answered. She did not come to this decision on a whim. Since the first meeting with her now lover, she felt her loneliness bubbling up to the surface whenever she couldn’t be with Moonlight. And, once she realized what was happening, the sea goddess began to keep an eye on those around her in the temple. Because... this would require one more person. Again, without hesitation, she spoke, “You have the greatest grasp on electric powers of all the rays. You are also resourceful and dedicated, and... I need someone like that to watch over the city in my slumber.”

“I... see.” Mocha Ray said. Now it made sense. The priestess was called here... because she was the one person who was not going to leave Sugarteara. In hindsight, of course Sea Fairy could not be left alone while devoting her strength to preserving the sacred pearl and her heart. But for her to be chosen...

“So, will help me?”

“Of course, Sea Fairy.” Mocha Ray affirmed with a newfound confidence. “I am still not entirely sure what all this means, but for the entire sea, I will devote my duties to your protection.”

“I’m Glad. However, there is one more thing you should know, however.” Sea Fairy could barely bring herself to say these next words, but she continued anyway, “If... we cannot find a way to push back the darkness and it consumes me. Please, somehow manage to remove this dagger from my hands. Doing so will turn me to sea foam... preventing the devastation of our home.”

“Wait!!! Sea Fairy, that would mean you--”

“Please! You must promise me you will not allow my powers to plunge the sea into darkness.”

“I...” Mocha Ray had devoted her entire life to the worship of the sacred pearl and—by proxy—Sea Fairy. Yet here goddess of the sea was—asking a priestess to basically kill her if need be. But... the sea was their home. And if it meant protecting it...

It took a while to muster the courage to reply, but Mocha Ray finally said, “You have my word, Sea Fairy. While protecting you, I will try to find a way to help. But... if all else fails, and you attempt to plunge the sea into darkness, I will do what must be done.”

“Thank you, Mocha Ray...” Sea Fairy said while sighing in relief. She knew this was a hard thing to ask for, but this was her burden to bear. And if this loneliness cost her own life, then so be it. Taking one last glace at the moon above them, she told Mocha Ray, “We should go back now. There is a lot to be done”

“Of course.” And with that, Mocha Ray followed.

Page Break

“This is your last chance to back down... and find another way.” Mocha Ray informed Sea Fairy. It had been a month since their initial conversation, and now was the time. Sugarteara had been evacuated, and the two of them stood before the sacred pearl. Turning towards Sea Fairy, she continued, “Neither of us even know if this will work. What if--”

“We have to try.” Sea Fairy said, interrupting Mocha Ray before she could cast further doubt on her choice. She already had so many conflicting emotions: from the possibility of her own death, to the idea of never seeing her love, Moonlight, again. She had become more and more doubtful of her choice as the days went on.

Moonlight...

Fighting back tears at the thought of never seeing her lover again, she approached the pearl, rising herself to meet it at its level. Once there, she couldn’t help but gaze into it. The darkness, while it could be seen moving from where Mocha Ray stood, seemed much more violent and erratic up close. As if... it could jump out and attack Sea Fairy at any moment. Could her own powers be twisted into such a violent force?

No—they did not have time for this.

Shoving away her feelings of fear and sadness, Sea Fairy wrapped herself around the pearl... and closed her eyes--

Suddenly, a bright light enveloped the room. If only for a second. Causing Mocha Ray to cover her eyes. A few moments later, she slowly lowered her fins—still scared of the possibility of further eye damage. Once uncovered, however, she saw the results of their decision.

Sea Fairy was within a bubble of her own design—frozen in midair as if she were encased in ice. Within it, she maintained the same position Mocha Ray had seen before the light seemed to seal her in place—her body wrapped around the pearl as if it were her life depended on it. As for the pearl itself... it had yet changed. The darkness was no longer moving within the sacred pearl, but it was still there. Though it was wishful thinking on the priestess’s part to hope things would change so soon. Mocha Ray just needed to give Sea Fairy time... right?

After what felt like an eternity, Mocha Ray finally turned around. The priestess did not have time to falter. Now, she had to fulfill her role in this plan—sealing the temple and making sure others could not enter. She started with the inner sanctum’s entrance and made her way through her once bustling home. The priestess’s shields were made of the electrical power unique to her species... one of the abilities Sea Fairy had based her hope in Mocha Ray on. Designed to block anyone who could not harness these abilities themselves, the shields would only allow those who could wield these electric abilities to pass through.

Meaning that only she could utilize the entrances and exits now. As the rest of the ray species had fled with the other citizens of Sugarteara... as she had requested. And there was no one she knew of who could disarm the shields.

A good hour or two later, Mocha Ray had finally made it to the final opening in the temple... the entrance. After this, she did not have much left to do except maintain watch and take care of herself. She would start the research into how to help Sea fairy tomorrow... as setting up the shields had been exhausting enough.

As she started to set up the last one, however--

SMASH

Stopping in her tracks, she turned around, seeing a cloud of dust forming from whatever crashed right in front of the temple. Or... whoever--

“YOU-- WHAT’VE YOU BEEN TELLING THE PEOPLE OF SUGARTEARA?”

Mocha Ray’s eyes widened. She knew that voice. She had hoped she wouldn’t have to hear that voice again... anytime soon, at least.

“Lobster...” the priestess said. Lobster...her friend. When Sea Fairy and herself were preparing to evacuate the city, Lobster was out with a survey team—tracking down and defeating a vicious beast that had gotten too close to Sugarteara’s outskirts. So, like all the other survey groups, they had sent a messenger out to tell them of the news. Mocha Ray had handpicked the one for Lobsters’ team and hoped—sincerely hoped— that her friend would have been convinced by them... and yet here he was. Maintaining her position at the top of the temple’s steps, she told him, “You should not be here--”

“I SHOULDN’T BE HERE?”

“Yes!! You need to leave—now!!!”

“Why? So you can TAKE ALL OF SUGARTEARA’S GLORY FOR YOURSELF?” Lobster yelled. This was their home... HIS home, and yet she expected him to abandon it? She was one of the first people to welcome him into the city; she did not look down on him no matter how beaten and damaged he became. This priestess in particular should understand his attachment to Sugarteara. And yet—removing the glistening claw from the crater he created, Lobster continued, “I don’t think so... this isn’t just your home to claim!! Take it back and allow the people to return to their homes!!”

“Lobster please!! Do you really think so low of me!?” Mocha Ray cried out. This was her colleague... her friend. She had known him since his first days within the city... she even gifted him the very claw he so rudely smashed in with. And now... Lobster really believed she was doing this out of some shallow desire for power. Suddenly, she heard her friend’s footsteps begin to move towards the temple’s stairs. And with every step, she felt tears well up in her eyes. She said, “Please Lobster, I do not wish to fight!!’

“I don’t wish to either... but if you are to stand against Sugarteara’s greatness, I have no choice!!”

“Lobster, pl--”

“IF YOU DON’T WISH TO FIGHT, RESCIND YOUR WORDS AND ALLOW ME TO BRING THE PEOPLE B--”

“THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE!! I”M SORRY!!!”

“Then... TAKE THIS!!” Lobster yelled, switching from thunderous steps to a sudden leap, he threw himself into the air. And as he plummeted to the ground, Lobster aimed his claw at who he could once call a friend.

Noticing this, Mocha Ray’s eyes widened. And within a single moment, she created the final shield to the temple... around it and herself. Protecting her and sending lobster back as the shock of her powers coursed through his body. Glancing down at his kneeling form, she said through tears, “Lobster, please stop this!!”

“NO!! LET ME IN!!!” He yelled—no, pleaded. This was his home; somewhere that accepted someone as rugged as him, and it was clear he was not going to just give up on it. Though he did not even know why it had to be like this. He knew nothing of Sea Fairy or the sacred pearl’s waning strength... but he would not listen long enough to learn.

She had prayed for nights on end that it would not have to be this way. However, deep down, Mocha Ray knew a prayer like this was too much for any god to answer. Lobster was always headstrong... and would defend Sugarteara with his life. He had given up a claw for the city, after all. The idea that it had to be abandoned for the safety of its citizens and the sea.... she had to have known Lobster would refuse such an obscene notion. But still, she did not want to view him as an enemy. So, she gave him one last chance, “... I know how you feel. I love our home too, but you need to understand—”

“IF YOU DON’T TAKE DOWN THIS BARRIER I SWEAR TO THE SEAS—” he continued to holler, dashing back up the stairs and banging on the shield even as its electricity coursed through his body.

“... fine.” Mocha Ray said, hanging her head down and turning her back to him. Her duty to Sea fairy and the seas came before anything else. If it did not, there would be no city for Lobster and her to fight over. So, as she began to walk back into the temple, she tried to hold back her sobs and said, “If you continue to try and invade the temple grounds, you will be treated as an enemy... even by the city guardians.”

And with that, she quickened her pace and entered the temple—Lobster's cries and screams echoing throughout its walls. Until, after some maintenance on her end, Mocha Ray began to hear the crashes and screams of lobster dealing with guardians... before it turned to silence. Lobster clearly unable to handle every single guardian. The priestess could only hope her friend fled rather than succumbing to the guardian’s defense mechanisms.

Mocha Ray had spent the entire time walking around the temple in an effort to ignore the chaos outside. But now that it was completely silent, she fell to her knees. Exhausted and finally allowing herself to sob loudly. At the end of the day, he was a friend. And she knew it would take a lot to ever repair their friendship. If it was even possible after what she had to do.

Over the past month, she had to say goodbye to everyone she loved. On this day, she had lost a friend. Now, all alone, she wondered... is this what hopelessness feels like? Is this the feeling that had consumed Sea Fairy’s heart? Between sobs, she started to ask why over and over again... to absolutely no one. Mocha Ray was all alone.

Yes, all alone...

#cookie run #cookie run overbreak #sugarteara #sea fairy cookie #mocha ray cookie #lobster cookie #writing #Alt title: Katie still has sugarteara brainrot in december

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theonceoverthinker · 5 years ago

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When Will My Life Begin? (Fair Game, 2/?)

Summary: Tangled AU. Clover Callows has been confined to a tower for all of his life, and given the threat that his Uncle Tyrian says his semblance poses to his safety, he accepts that fate. It’s the only life he’s ever known, after all. But when he’s offered the opportunity to fulfill his greatest dream after a chance encounter with a thief -- or bandit, as Qrow Branwen insists there’s a difference between the two -- both Clover and Qrow will discover joys that they never knew life could offer them before.

AO3

Tumblr: (1)

A/N: Thank you all for the kind support and comments towards Chapter 1!!!! I had so much fun writing this chapter, and I hope this chapter is just as great!

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Clover Callows found there were merits in having and maintaining a routine.

Routines provided stability, a means for developing skills, an ideal backdrop for daydreaming, something with a clear foundation to fall back on in the face of uncertainty or hopelessness, and countless other benefits.

And when one spent their life confined to a tower like he did, those merits simply could not be understated.

Clover’s routine started at roughly seven in the morning, as he rose from his feathery mattress to a powerful beam of sunlight, the same way he had done so for as long as he could remember.

Such an early wakeup time was something of a double edged sword.

When one only had so much space and only so any things to do from within it, an early start to what could likely be a lengthy day could be seen as annoying, especially as one’s body demanded less and less sleep from them over the years. Clover could admit to feeling that way occasionally, but the matter couldn’t be helped. At that time in the morning, the sun hit his tower’s window in a way that engorged the tower’s entire interior in its light. Though he’d tried to cloak the light with some curtains he’d all but begged for, they weren’t strong enough to do more than make the beams just a bit less severe, an improvement so minor that he removed the curtains completely after the first week.

Oh well. He supposed no routine was without its drawbacks.

But honestly, Clover preferred to take a more optimistic approach to things, and did like getting up at that time for more reasons than he didn’t.

So really, that wakeup time was more of a blessing than anything.

Clover supposed that given his semblance, that shouldn’t have been much of a surprise.

For one thing, Clover was a tried and true morning person, so a start like this ensured that he’d always start his day on the right foot. After all, what was the point of a routine without the energy needed to see it through?

For another, Clover found he could make far better use of his time with the sun’s light than he often could with the night’s darkness. He liked making candles, but he also liked having visible space to work with as he went about his day without the risk of losing it to a stray bellow of wind.

And finally -- not to mention, most importantly to Clover -- getting up as early as he did meant that he had a full hour to prepare breakfast for himself and his uncle.

Yes, one of the highlights of Clover’s morning routine came at the very start of it. At the same time everyday, Clover’s Uncle Tyrian would make a point to check up on him before leaving for work. And if Clover made breakfast for them, he’d stay for a bit longer and eat. If it wasn’t, he’d leave right after his morning check up to go get some himself, commiserating on how he wished they’d have more time together.

Needless to say, Clover got very good at making sure breakfast was on the table by eight in the morning without fail very quickly.

It was a pleasure to do it, really. Despite his uncle’s disdain for outsiders, he still associated with them every single day, risking life and limb, just to provide for Clover. The least Clover felt he could do was make sure he came home to delicious meals and a good attitude, and luckily for Clover, he was quite good at both.

The recipes for their morning bread rolls were all but second nature to him, and in less than fifteen minutes, they were in the oven baking. Clover had gone for a sweeter type of roll today -- brown sugar and cinnamon lovingly kneaded into the dough. The spices would balance well against the spread and tea he’d planned to serve.

Yes, it would be delicious -- of that Clover had no doubt.

“This might be my best breakfast yet,” Clover said to himself.

But suddenly, another voice made itself known through a loud, abrasive squawk.

Without looking at the culprit of the bit of noise, Clover smirked.

He knew that tone, and he knew it well.

Really, she was too much sometimes.

Fortunately, in a situation like his, ‘too much’ was actually perfect for him.

“Didn’t realize you were up,” Clover said, unable to keep the chuckle out of his voice as he spoke. “Good morning, Raven.”

An indignant squawk that Clover could’ve guessed was coming from a mile away followed, but that only allowed for Clover’s chuckle to evolve into a full grown laugh.

“Don’t worry,” Clover assured, walking over to his tower's spare set of blankets. “I made a roll for you too.”

Raven released another squawk as she tottered out from her spot within the blankets, as if to say ‘you better have.’

And while her language was different than his own, he had no trouble understanding that.

“Don’t I always?” he asked, a good natured tone in his voice. After kneeling by her side, Clover gently scratched Raven behind her feather-claden neck with his index finger, just the way he knew she liked it.

While Raven didn’t answer his inquiry vocally, she did lean her head closer to his hand, and that was good enough for the both of them. It always was.

After all, outside of Clover’s uncle, they were all each other had.

Clover would never forget the day Raven came into his life.

Wildlife was one of the few spontaneous bits of entertainment life treated Clover to, but the problem was often that it was too hard, if not downright impossible, for him to see most any of it. The tower was tall, and from all the way up, things just blended too well into the tapestries that were tall grass and clear water below.

All the squinting in the world could only do so much from forty feet high.

Birds were a different story though. Clover could see them clearly enough as they and their bold colors soared on by against the light sky, and because they did it fairly often, he found himself whiling away many an hour watching them explore a world that was just a small piece for them, but all he ever knew.

That said, the birds that passed the tower’s vicinity almost never flew close enough to the tower so that Clover could interact with them up close, though not for lack of trying. Clover left crumbs from breakfast on his windowsill, practiced bird calls, and even tried to ask his uncle for a birdhouse he could place outside, but nothing worked.

Still, he had something to enjoy, however far away it was, and he couldn’t be all that upset about that.

Clover and Raven’s meeting happened when Clover was twelve, on what would’ve otherwise been a rather ordinary day.

A twelve year old Clover was looking outside his tower’s window, watching a darkly-colored bird -- who he’d soon come to call ‘Raven’ -- make a graceful lap around his tower after swooping up from a tree. He could see that Raven had something that looked like a worm in her beak, and Clover found himself playfully musing over a reality where he had to eat worms to survive, though he was pretty sure he’d prefer his loaves of bread over that.

Raven had landed just over the brim of the tower’s roof to enjoy her snack. Though Clover knew he could probably get a nice view of her and her feast if he just popped his head out the window, he opted not to interfere with his visitor’s lunch. He didn’t want to scare her off. Instead, he considered grabbing some remnants of his breakfast to try to lure her to his window after she was done with her worm.

But before he could think on that for more than a second, another bird -- a hawk, if Clover was correct -- swooped up, passing Clover’s window completely in favor of the brim of the roof.

Squawks burst out between the two birds on the roof. Clover, no longer deterred by the threat of rudeness, poked his head through the window to make out what he could of what was clearly a scuffle going on above his tower.

Raven stubbornly clung to her worm, but that came at the cost of her defenses and agility, giving the hawk an almost unfair advantage.

That advantage came to a head when the hawk grabbed one of Raven’s wings and tugged it with all its might.

Just a few pulls was all it took. Raven dropped the worm, squawking in agony. Even though it was faint, Clover could hear the sound of wings snapping and crunching from above him.

A final push from the hawk sent Raven tumbling off the roof...or it would have, had Clover not caught her.

Clover shooed the hawk away and brought Raven into the tower to better examine her. Raven’s wing had been severed and beaten, quite possibly beyond repair. She wouldn’t die, but she would also never fly again, and Clover knew that even if his semblance played a role in saving her life, one look at her wing told him that even all the good luck in the world couldn’t change that.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t take care of her and try to give her a good life.

And that he did, and in that tower she stayed.

Raven was kept a secret from Uncle Tyrian. In the past Clover had voiced to him desires to see birds up close and to even build a birdhouse in his window, but Uncle Tyrian was quick to say no to those requests. He labeled birds as nothing more than vectors of disease that Clover would be far better off staying away from. There were few orders and suggestions from his uncle that Clover didn’t obey, but given Raven’s condition, he made an exception. While his uncle was loving, he was also incredibly strict, and Clover couldn’t risk Raven’s safety on the off chance he’d be willing to bend a rule for them.

So, Raven made a hidden nest within a spare set of blankets on the far side of the tower, and that became her home until this very day. Raven had overnight become Clover’s closest -- or rather, only -- friend and confidant, and though Raven wasn’t one to be sentimental, she’d shown her hand on more than one occasion that she felt the same way about him.

What they shared was special, and Clover wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Clover stood up and placed Raven on his shoulder, all the while still scratching her neck. He walked over to a wall where he had placed the set of curtains that failed to shield him from the early morning sunlight, and drew them back.

Life in the tower gave way to many hobbies and one of those was artwork. With an entire tower to serve as a canvass, Clover let his creativity soar, and soar it did. Images of the sea and fish he found in books prompted Clover to patch much of the tower’s lower interior with various shades of blue, green, and black. Raven herself, for as anonymous as her existence in the tower was to Uncle Tyrian, blended in well as one of dozens of birds painted alongside the tower’s upper interior, with more added in by the day. His love of cooking roused a desire to paint images of bread, eggs, milk, and chickens in the kitchen’s crevices.

But Clover’s favorite piece of his wasn’t one of the sea, nor birds, nor food.

No, Clover's favorite piece laid in secret behind those curtains, a simple image of a young man staring lovingly as big green lights slowly, but surely approached him.

“I’m going to do it today, Raven,” Clover said, though it was more to himself than to her. “I’m finally going to ask him.”

Raven didn’t respond to him, but simply leaned her head more on Clover’s hand. He scratched her for another few moments, thinking of the undertaking he just gave his word on.

What Clover was going to ask his uncle today was by no means a trifle -- not for the man that his uncle was. No, this would push every barrier that had ever been established for him since the day his father left this world and his uncle took him to this tower to live.

But if he didn’t ask now, he’d have to wait a whole year to ask again, and the thought of waiting just another hour, let alone another year made Clover’s skin crawl with yearning.

Tomorrow was his twenty-first birthday, and just as was the case on each of Clover’s birthdays before, beautiful green lights would illuminate the sky that night. As if that were not interesting enough, this marvel happened only on his birthday, not off by a single day for as far back as he could remember.

For twenty-one years, those lights did all manner of things to Clover. They inspired his imagination with thoughts of what lights could possibly look like, lead Clover to take an interest in astrology so he could try to understand their existence, gave Clover hope and motivation to stay optimistic on his darkest days, and most of all, they felt like a sign -- one that there was something beyond this tower meant for him and that the world might not be as terrible as his uncle claimed it to be. It wasn’t that Clover didn’t trust his uncle -- he did. He knew his uncle’s advice came from a place of love as well as experience, and had thus followed his words of wisdom almost to the letter. However, something in those lights screamed at Clover that maybe those words didn’t reflect the full picture of the world, and Clover couldn’t help but believe them.

But, for all the good the presence of those emerald-colored lights produced for Clover, they also taunted him every single year with their distance. While Clover could always see them with ease, he could also tell that their source was miles away, and a desire to see that source beckoned him like nothing else in this world ever had.

He could do this.

He was going to do this.

He had to do this, if for no other reason than his own sanity.

If his lucky semblance was to ever work for his benefit, he willed it to be this time.

Clover took a deep breath, his resolve now reinforced.

“Well,” he said, smiling, “we’ve got about 40 minutes until Uncle Tyrian arrives, and 20 minutes until the bread’s done. Should we start our usual routine while we wait?”

A lazy, sarcastic squawk answered his proposition, an answer to which Clover playfully rolled his eyes at, never once losing his smile.

“That’s the spirit!” he returned, once more chuckling as he walked over to his sink and then closet to get ready for the day.

Once washed up and dressed, Clover grabbed his trusty fishing rod Kingfisher, marveling at how it shined in the glimmer of the sun’s light. If it ever touched the sea, it would nab quite the beautiful catches, but Clover found that it served plenty of purposes alone just staying by his side here.

Across Uncle Tyrian’s many stories about the world beyond this tower, Clover learned that most everyone outside had a weapon for attacking each other, so Clover took it upon himself to make sure he had one too. Uncle Tyrian didn’t approve of the idea at first, but it was one of the few debates between them over the course of Clover’s life that Clover actually won. After all, if it stood to reason that Clover was in this tower for his own protection, he should have a weapon to protect himself just in case someone came for him and his uncle was at work. Uncle Tyrian certainly couldn’t find an objection to that -- though Clover could tell he tried. So, Uncle Tyrian provided him with some basic supplies and metal scraps he was able to scrounge together, and left Clover to it to create a weapon. After weeks and weeks of work, fighting through burns and cuts as he toiled over metal and fire alike, Kingfisher was born.

Clover was proud of the weapon he ended up with. A fishing rod was an unorthodox choice, he would admit, but that’s part of what he found made Kingfisher so cool. Among other things, it was like a weapon only he knew how to use and had such a strange means of attacking that no one would ever see his moves coming. Clover had spent the years following Kingfisher’s creation honing every skill needed to handle its every function, and if there was such a thing as a master of weapons in the outside world, he would be without a doubt the undisputed master of fishing rods.

But in the meantime, until a moment came to pass where Kingfisher would ever need to be used as a weapon, Clover made sure that he could find other purposes for it and its many features.

With one swift motion, Clover cast Kingfisher’s hook to the other side of the tower, where his broom laid in wait for its own role in Clover’s daily routine, and reeled it back in so the broom landed in his other hand. Then with another motion, one just as swift, Clover cast Kingfisher behind his back, smirking as he heard the same satisfying clink that serenaded his ears for so long. He twisted his body, and the hook, latched onto a duster, swept across the shelves that were behind him and caused today’s dust to fall to the floor in a semi-messy row, one which Clover and his broom made quick work of clearing while Raven used her back as leverage for the dustpan at the end of it.

After finishing that and cleaning up some leftover work, and emptying the dustpan outside the window, Clover took a whiff of the bread rolls and without so much as a glimpse at the clock, determined he still had seven minutes until it needed to be taken out.

Seven minutes. That was long enough for him to set the table and do some push ups, while leaving a minute to cool off by the window before it was time to take the bread out.

As was the usual case with his routine, everything was done seamlessly, with no task either disappointing from lack of effort nor not granted enough time. It was all done perfectly, as per his standards, and when the time came to remove the bread from the oven, Clover was neither a second too early or late, and that effort showed in the finished product.

The completed rolls looked just as fluffy as ever, plump and hearty, while also not too thick. It was almost too much to not salivate over the sweet smells of cinnamon and brown sugar that fully pervaded his nostrils. True to his earlier thoughts, he could practically taste how we’ll they’d complement the rest of the meal.

Yes, this was going to be a great breakfast.

And what a day to knock it out of the park.

As the rolls cooled off, Clover focused his attention on fetching the tea and the apricot jam he’d prepared and got to work on setting up both.

When the jam was laid out on the table in two neat, tiny bowls and the kettle began boiling their tea’s water, Clover looked back at the painting of himself by the lights, and for a few minutes, he let himself dream just a bit more about a reality where he would get to see them up close.

Maybe that dream would at last come true tomorrow…if he was lucky.

But then again, the lesson Clover had grown to best understand about his semblance throughout his life was that what constituted good luck was nothing if not subjective.

For instance, to live in safety with one’s most beloved family member was undoubtedly good luck. However, spending one’s life restricted to a single tower was...a bit harder to define as such.

Clover had felt both extremes of his atypical situation before -- it would have been hard not to.

There was so much Clover was grateful for in his life. Between his uncle, Raven, the safety of his home, and even the very semblance that necessitated hiding away from the world in the first place, Clover knew he had no shortage of things to appreciate, and he truly did appreciate them all. For someone whose semblance put his life in so much danger, Clover knew he couldn’t be more secure than he was in this tower. And knowing such safety was a final gift from his parents made it even more special of a home.

It’s not as if he didn’t understand exactly why he stayed up in the tower. A semblance like his was more valuable to men than a king’s crown, and the deaths of his parents very clearly showed just what lengths people in the outside world would go to in order to have that semblance under their control. Uncle Tyrian had told Clover all types of stories of the people who had tried to pay his parents for him as well as the kidnapping attempts he suffered as an infant before the decision was made to move to the tower, and how when their move was caught onto by their fellow villagers, a mob met met his family at their front door. Had it not been for Uncle Tyrian and his father’s quick and selfless thinking, disguising a heap of clothing as a baby to hold while Uncle Tyrian took him to the tower...Clover knew he would have ended up dead in the streets like his parents, if not imprisoned for life by whatever cretin managed to make off with him.

Clover sometimes shuddered to think about what might have been his fate if not for his Uncle Tyrian, and his heart blossomed with love at the thought of all the sacrifices Uncle Tyrian made every day just so Clover could live a life of relative comfort.

To wish for a life outside this tower would be not only dangerous, but also selfish in the face of all his family had sacrificed for him. Clover had tried to stop such thoughts from staying in his mind for too long, and most always succeeded.

However, every so often, a longing for a change of scenery did linger for longer than it should have, long enough for Clover to entertain the thought just a bit. Out in the world, there were dangers aplenty, of that Clover had no doubt.

But out there was also the sea and fish and flowers and animals and books and-

And the green lights.

There were things Clover wanted to see out in the world, but he’d dismiss each and every one of those desires forever if it meant a chance to see those beautiful green lights up close.

As for whether or not he’d get that chance, well, even with his semblance, it could go either way, and both would make just as much sense as the other.

Going to see the lights that have been so very present in his life and dreams was good luck...but not going and ensuring that he and his uncle would remain unharmed by the outside world was good luck, too, albeit frustratingly so.

Clover just hoped that his semblance would listen to him and only him for once and let the dream he wanted more than anything he thought he was ever capable of wanting come true -- to see the floating lights for himself.

A question of what would happen after that dream was fulfilled was posed in his thoughts, but before Clover could do more than briefly muse on the subject, the tea kettle whistled, taking him out of his musings.

Quickly, he settled the kettle’s cries and placed the hot water in their cups alongside the tea bags so the tea would be nice and strong once Uncle Tyrian arrived. He then sliced the now cooled rolls in neat halves and placed one full roll on either side of the table.

Clover looked at the complete breakfast table. He didn’t consider himself much of a braggart -- though he knew his uncle might disagree with him about that -- but he was quite proud of today’s breakfast.

Raven squawked, and Clover, quite familiar with what she wanted, returned her to her spot by the spare blankets alongside her own miniature roll. Though she was clearly trying to come off as overly tough, all but tweeting ‘it’s about time,’ Clover could see more than a hint of appreciation in her eyes. He gently scratched her head.

“Enjoy,” he said. Judging by how quickly Raven tore into her roll, it looked like she was doing exactly that.

“Clover!” a voice suddenly called, another voice that Clover knew well.

Uncle Tyrian was here.

Clover felt his heart racing.

He was going to do this.

Could he do this?

Raven’s unmarred wing touched his hand, a rare, but clear method of comfort from her.

Yes, he could do this.

“Thanks, Raven,” he kindly muttered.

Quickly, Clover collected himself, closed the curtains that hid his painting of the lights, and grabbed Kingfisher.

It was showtime, and Clover, now on his way to greet his uncle at the tower’s window, was ready to ask the question that burned on his tongue like a hot coal burned in an oven.

If Uncle Tyrian said yes, he’d be taken on the trip of a lifetime, and finally given the chance to live out his dream.

But if he didn’t…

Clover didn’t want to go down that particular road, but all the same, he knew it was one that needed to be considered.

Well, even if he didn’t...at least Clover still had his routine going for him, he guessed.

#fair game #clover ebi #qrow branwen #rwby #tyrian callows #raven branwen #tangled au

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songsofacagedbird · 5 years ago

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Hello, I’m Katie, this is my sunshine daughter Balo, and you’re watching Disney Channel! Jokes aside though, I’m so excited to bring Balo back and while not much has changed (truly this is nothing more than a continuation where I only omit plots my partner doesn’t want to revive), have a new intro / bio anyway because... I felt like it ok. I’ll be good and not ramble too ungodly long though so without further ado - another one of my excessively long intro posts:

TWs: Child Abuse / Abuse, Alcoholism (not Balo’s, but her dad’s), Eating Disorders (anorexia nervosa)

Is that BALIAN “BALO” DRISKELL? Wow, they do look a lot like CANDICE SWANEPOEL. I hear SHE is/are a SEVENTEEN year old JUNIOR who originally attended LUXOR Academy. Word is they are a(n) REGULAR student. You should watch out because they can be NAIVE and SENSITIVE, but on the bright side they can also be OPTIMISTIC and BUBBLY. Ultimately, you’ll get to see it all for yourself. [KATIE, 23, EST, SHE/HERS]

Last Edit: 8/26/2020

★ basics;

Full Name: Balian “Balo” Grace Driskell Age: 17 Birthday: February 7th, 2003 at 08:06 am Sexual Orientation: Balo really doesn’t label it (although I like to say bisexual, biromanitc to make my own life easier), she always just falls for who she falls for regardless of gender. If you ask her exactly, she’d probably say MOGAI though. Relationship Status: Kinda dating Caitriona but it’s unofficial Occupation: Student Nationality: American

★ classes;

Communications

French

Geometry

U.S. History

Fashion design

Visual Art

Pilates

★ extracurriculars;

Arts Club (Member)

Balo also used to be a Cheerleader (Flyer) and part of the Gymnastics team but due to her leaving / concerns about her health, she was required to step down, much to her devastation.

★ background;

Place of Birth: Rochester, New York Hometown: Saratoga Springs, New York Health Issues: Eating Disorder (Anexoria) Traumas: Abuse (Constant/Ongoing - from her father)

★ physical;

Faceclaim: Candice Swanepoel Eye Color: Blue Hair Color: Blonde Height: 5′11” -- not at fc height because I don’t wanna change her height with the new fc Weight: 120 lbs - give or take Tattoos, Birthmarks, Scars, etc: Nothing I find a need to link at the moment.

★ zodiac;

Tropical

Sun: Aquarius Moon: Aries Mercury: Capricorn Venus: Capricorn Mars: Sagittarius Jupiter: Leo Saturn: Gemini Uranus: Aquarius Neptune: Aquarius Pluto: Sagittarius Lilith: Aries N Node: Gemini

Placidus Orb

I ASC: Pisces II: Aries III: Taurus IV: Gemini V: Cancer VI: Leo VII: Virgo VIII: Libra IX: Scorpio X MC: Sagittarius XI: Capricorn XII: Aquarius

★ relatives;

Father’s Full Name: Lance Driskell Father’s Status: Alive Father’s Occupation: Restaurant Owner Mother’s Full Name: Cassandra “Cassidy” Driskell Mother’s Status: Alive Mother’s Occupation: Waitress at a local diner (not Lance’s place) Siblings: 1 older sister and 2 older brothers

Driskell Children Oldest to Youngest:

Ivan Marsden (22, attending school in England)

Grace Driskell (19, in California for school)

Zander Driskell (LINK TO HIS INTRO)

Balo Driskell

Here is a link to the Driskell family page if you’d like to know more about her family.

★ misc;

Hobbies and Talents: Balo’s a sketch artist and painter who tends to focus on realism, in particular realistic humans and animals. It’s her true passion and I have an inspo section for her sketchbook here! She’s also quite flexible and skilled at gymnastics, part of why it’s bothering her she can’t participate currently because she loves it and she’s good at it - making her removal from the team eat at her even more.

Pinterest Section // Musings Tag // Playlist

- Balo’s kind of a literal ray of sunshine who believes (almost) everyone is truly good at heart. While she tries to see the best in everyone, no matter what, she truly can’t see it in her father, a fact she feels extremely guilty over it. - She loves art, sketching and painting especially, and she always dreamed of being some sort of artist. While her mother encouraged it every chance she got, her father is truly a different story. - Balo is very easy to manipulate and I encourage it constantly. - She truly just wants to love and befriend everyone, while it’s not really too hard to make her cry, usually you’ll see Balo running around with a smile trying to brighten everyone’s day. This is an issue because she’ll put everyone around her before herself every time, your happiness is a priority before hers. Again, making her easy to manipulate. (So I welcome manipulating Balo and love it when it occurs, please feel free to do so at any point) - Her best friend / favorite person in the entire world at this point is Logan Keller, mention him only if you really wanna see this girl light up like a 4th of July fireworks show. (They’re still in touch, for those of you who remember him from when Jia was playing him here!) - Balo recently got out of extensive inpatient for her eating disorder so while she’s doing a lot better, she’s really doesn’t want it to be the main topic of conversation either. She's okay and back at Luxor and she feels that’s the most important thing at the end of the day.

★ bio; TWs: Child Abuse / Abuse, Alcoholism, Eating Disorders (anoxeria, weight loss, and complications from both)

“'Cause I know that nothing good comes easy, if it did, I wouldn't be me.”

If there was one quote that fit Balo Driskell’s life to a t, that would be it. Nothing was truly easy in the Driskell’s home, she was the youngest of three children - an amount that her mother never wanted to have, and would do whatever it took to stay at after this point. Anytime her father walked in after work, the stench of alcohol clung to. She could smell it on her breath every time he yelled, each time he threw things, anytime he hit her. One could have easily convinced the young girl that all families were like this, that everyone covered up bruises and pretended they were much happier than they actually were if it wasn’t for her mother.

Perhaps Casandra Driskell never wanted her children, but she loved them with her entire heart. She’d sneak her children money, things they weren’t allowed to have - guitars, paints, canvases, sheet-music, legos, and whatever else her father deemed banning fit at a moment's notice. She wasn’t always around, working a job at the local diner, but when she was she did everything in her power to protect her children. It was never enough, though.

Lance Driskell still hurt his children close to daily, whether it was smashing Grace’s guitar over her head the moment he found it, pulling Balo down the stairs by her hair, or lashing Zander with his belt - there were quite a few times where a Driskell had to go the hospital and the family had to lie through their teeth to keep people from looking too closely at them at their mother’s urging. If it was investigated the three children would be separated, they would lose their mother, or at least that’s what they were told - and none of them wanted that. It became common for one child to intervene for another if they could, Zander especially taking the brunt of the punishments for his sisters.

It was part of loving someone in the Driskell home, trying to keep everyone else safe no matter the cost it had on you.

Her childhood wasn’t all bad, however, there were quite a few silver-linings in the dark cloud called the Driskell home. She had a close friendship with her siblings and her mother, and she has plenty of fond memories with them. Christmas was always peaceful, as her father always took that shift at his restaurant and refused to celebrate the holiday with them - a time where he couldn’t taint the joy inside of the Driskell home. She could paint when her father wouldn’t catch her in the act, something she loved doing (and she still does every chance she gets), and she had Logan. Logan Keller was her next-door neighbor and her best friend. If you saw one of them, the other probably wasn’t too far behind. In many ways, he was her person - someone she felt like she could go to with nearly anything (she could never discuss home with him at this point, of course, but everything else she could and she did).

And then the Driskells moved away and it was like the world was ripped out from under her feet - leaving her spiraling and looking for some sort of control. Her new friend didn’t help matters much either, constantly encouraging her to “shed the weight” they swore she gained. She soon found this sense of “control” in the form of her eating disorder, careful attempts to keep herself as thin as she could, of restricting her food every chance she could. It wasn’t healthy, far from it, but it fulfilled the desire to have some semblance of control over her life.

Sending the children to Luxor had been an easy decision for Cassandra the second the children were able to attend, a way to ship them off to safety while not being too far away from home. While it pained her a first to be away from her mother, eventually she began to understand. She was safe while at school, and at the end of the day, that was what mattered the most to her mother, right? It wasn’t hard to get into the flow of life at the school, staying at school and only coming home for the breaks that the school refused to keep students during. It broke her heart when Lance shipped Ivan to England and told him not to come home (a thought that still pains her to this day), after the boy served his use, and it only grew harder when Grace graduated and moved to California. But she was happy at Luxor, in spite of everything.

And in a way, her love for the school only grew after the merge. Now there were twice as many people to befriend and support, and in the process, she realized something she had been missing had been under her nose for a while. Logan was attending school at Luxor too, and all of a sudden, she had her person in her life again. At the time she felt on top of the world, regardless of the circle beginning to stir up issues.

And then, suddenly, she was knocked right back down to the ground.

First Logan was kidnapped and forced to deliver the message, and then he was forced to go home for personal reasons. The support she had so quickly grown used to having was seemingly being ripped out from her yet again. While he was still in touch, continuing to be her rock, her eating disorder only continued to spiral out of control. And no matter how much she tried to pretend she was fine, it was getting to the point there was no way to really do so. Balo was sick, and now everyone could tell. It was concern from her teachers that helped fuel the chain of events that resulted in getting her help, no matter how much she tried to assure everyone she didn’t need inpatient therapy and that doing outpatient would be fine. After several months of inpatient followed by a bout of “readjustment to the real world” time at home, she’s back at Luxor and as sunshine-y as ever.

TLDR / quick important notes bio recap for rereads: - Balo’s home life is far from perfect. Her father, Lance - is an abusive alcoholic, and while her mother tried her best to protect her children - she also covered things up without hesitation. It wasn’t uncommon to see a Driskell in the ER with a lie and people willing to back up the story. - The lack of control in her life is what led to her eating disorder, in hopes of regaining a (false) sense of control. - She’s been attending Luxor since freshman year, although she recently had to leave for a few months to attend extensive inpatient treatment. And now she’s back to her normal sunshine-esc antics, trying to love everyone, feeding all the strays at Luxor, and trying to spread smiles everywhere she goes.

★ wanted connections;

Friendships

Someone to manipulate her, please I beg you

Um, pretty much anything? She likes everyone cause if you do something to hurt her she does mental gymnastics to come to the conclusion you are a good person and it was an unintended side effect so...yeah. Doesn’t mean your muses have to like her though (I have a lot of fun when they don’t actually, so… don’t worry about hurting the sunshine daughter. Okay?)

Anyone who knows her from the gymnastics and/or cheer teams, as she was on the teams through Freshmen & Sophomore years, and until October of her junior year.

#luxorintro #child abuse tw #abuse tw #physical abuse tw #alcoholism tw #alcohol tw #eating disorder tw

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belovasangel · 6 years ago

Text

Au Lait .End

Summary: Some hero’s hide between the pages of their novels, and the ones who need saving are those who read.

Pairing: Mob!Shawn x (fem)Reader

Warnings: Blood, swearing, mention of murder, anxiety, angst to fluff, happy ending

A/N: Thank you for reading my first full series! Also this part is really long and I’m super proud of myself.

Start from the beginning

Are final chapters good or bad?

Typically, most fairytales end with an uplifting tone and moral of the story. The princess is swept off her feet and taken to their happily ever after to live with the prince who saved her. It gives a positive outlook to children, the desired audience, that life is worth living. Love is the end goal, as it heals wounds and should keep you going to fulfill your limited time on earth. Our life is something we want ever since we read about it at bedtime, hoping and praying to the universe that our prince charming may come one day.

Yet, some end with a bitter bite instead. We feel remorse and anger towards the lack of happiness at the end. As we progress from childhood fiction to adult novels, the dialect changes to something that scars us all. Tips on how to survive a fire, to get out of a sinking car, or how to get away with murder. Our television shows shut out the crowns and love, and instead thrusts real life horrors that may happen one day.

We are taught later, that love comes with a cost. It isn’t as simple as waking up with a kiss, or being saved from a house of seven mini men. Maybe it doesn’t come at all, and we have to learn with that being okay. Or, even worse, love is taken from us, shredded at tender touches and whispers turning in the wind.

Shawn wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

As he watched Andrew lock the door, still unnoticed, he began picturing a life where this wasn’t the scenario. One where you two lived on the countryside, living alongside a cat and a few children. A life which Shawn would wrap his tattoo’d and scarred hands along your baby bump, watching the little butterfly kick in response. Where your skin glowed in the beautiful light and he finally learned how to braid hair.

But this wasn’t a silly fiction book. This was your life. And future.

Shawn stayed low to the concrete, crawling towards the nearby alleyway to tuck away. Once he had space and safety, he stood up and began running alongside the brick walls, looking up and round for any sort of door. A staircase. Anything to get in. Shawn noticed the fire escape quickly, feeling his heart skip a beat, at the hope he suddenly found. He kept the phone tight to his face, knuckles white from tension.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t hurt your family, and all I did was put a few holes in your men. Water under the bridge, am I right? However, I never promised that I wouldn’t touch such beautiful,” Andrew paused. Shawn heard your whimper. “Beautiful, woman. Say, does Shawn tell you about what he does?”

Shawn let out a throaty growl after hearing you whine out. He seethed red, readying to punch the taunting brick between him. “Get away from her, she has no business with me.” He put the phone quickly in his pocket, and swiftly jumped up to reach the fire escape. Somehow, being six foot was just enough to give a leg up. As fast as he jumped, Shawn put the phone back to his ear, barreling up the stairs to your store.

“She’s making you cowardly, Mendes. You kill people! Sell drugs, murder families, take candy from fucking babies, yet somehow a damn nerd found a way to change your mind. You should have fucking killed me when you had the chance!”

Shawn shook his head, hopping window to window in search of the novels and bookshelves. “You don’t know shit about her, Andrew. All you know is her damn store, she was taught to read books, not loads rifles. She doesn’t know my life, she doesn’t know who the fuck you are! Do not get her involved. Get out before you’ll regret it.”

Once he found the window to the second floor of your store, he opened the window, thanking the universe for it being open, and quietly flung himself in. He didn’t care he left it open, or that he was unarmed. All Shawn wanted was to hold you in his arms and shield you from the pain you were facing now.

He had never been in this part of the store, where the little nook was hidden upstairs. You were right, this was perfect for kids. The colorful beanbags and small shelves of coloring books and crayons were good enough to have any kid entranced. Shawn wondered if you’d do this for your kids, too.

There was a small clutter downstairs, and Shawn heard it on his phone as well. He quickly padded towards the stairs, peeking over the railing. All he saw was a mass behind the counter, one of your flying hair and struggling arms, and a large body forcefully whipping you around. Shawn barreled down the stairs, trying to get Andrew’s attention.

“Hey! Get off-”

Pop.

Shawn stopped, nearly tripping over his feet and biting his tongue. You stood still, body craning up towards the ceiling and head tilted back in a shocking gasp. The store was silent, nobody moved. The tears long forgotten in Shawn’s eyes suddenly slipped, his heart grasping for your hold. His own daydreams flew behind his mind, the one where you two got coffee, where he would have proposed, the wedding, a kid or two. Shawn had envisioned a whole life, and he dreamt of living his days with you, like the fairytale you were.

But right now, all you craved was a fucking shower. Looking back in shock, your senses were distraught by gun smoke and something wet. As you slowly took a few steps backwards, the body of Andrew slid eerily down you, his blood staining the outfit you were clad in. He hit the ground in a dull thud, slowly surrounding himself in the thick murder you had just committed. The gun was hot in your clammy hands, so much that you let go of the burned handle and cradled your fingers close to your chest.

You gasped for air, and Shawn was quick to get you outside. He sprinted to your side, easily throwing you into his arms and running for the door while you whimpered and cried into his neck. Shawn’s crisp collar of his shirt quickly absorbed the blood from your fingertips, staining little drops onto the linen. They were either blood, or your own tears. At this point, you were too damned to care.

About three stops down in the subway did you finally react to his touch, weakly squeezing his hand back and turning your head to hide from the lights on the platforms you passed. Everything felt numbed, your senses, thoughts, even the memory of what happened. Yet, when things became too foreign, you looked down to the crusted blood in your fingernails and it freshly pressed your mind again.

Hopping off the line and climbing stairs to the street did you realize you’d never told Shawn where you lived. In a different scenario, you would have laughed. He really did do his research when you two first met. Shawn quickly took your keys from your purse, when did he grab that, and placed it in the lock to your quaint house. Setting the keys down at the door, you led him to the bathroom.

Shawn really wanted to enjoy this moment, hell a small part of him was, but he’d have to push that back a while longer. He had killed and ravaged more families than book series in your store, so a little blood was never an issue for him. You, however, were crafted from J.K. Rowling herself and the most dangerous thing you could do was cut butter for your cinnamon-raison toast. ‘(Y/N)’ and ‘mobster’ were never in the same sentence, or even correlated, until tonight.

And the thought of you alongside him working in with his mafia made Shawn really, really desperate to push these imagines away for another time. Right now, you were centimeters from a panic attack if the remnants of Andrew weren’t scrubbed off.

Shawn turned on the bathroom light and closed the door behind him. You sat down on the toilet, hunched over with a heavy head in your hands. Shawn admired the cleanliness of your little apartment. It was homey and loved, clearly with many book posters and loose novels along empty spaces. The bathroom was wood and marble, a few succulents and candled scattered. He gathered you must love Pottery Barn as well. Noted.

You sniffed gently, wiping your eyes and looked up at Shawn. “I’m sorry I ruined the date.” Shawn slowly slipped to his knees, placing both his warm hands inside yours. “You didn’t ruin anything. Gave me a near heart attack, yes. But, you are perfectly okay, right? We didn’t know he would show up.” Shawn saw your eyes flinch at the mention of previous events, so he squeezed your hands in apology.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?” With a curt nod, Shawn stood up and worked the shower, placing some soap in with the warm water. As it filled, you stood up and began taking off your jewelry, then shoes. Looking over at Shawn, the tips of his ears were red, and his cheeks were spreading in warmth. For the first time since leaving your store, you gave a small smile. “You know, when I imagined getting naked in front of you, this wasn’t the most ideal time I’d want it to happen.”

Shawn turned around slowly, eyebrows raised and a gentle smirk on his now flushed face. “Do you want me to leave?” You shook your head, a slightly bigger smile creeping onto your face. Tears flooded your eyes, some quickly falling. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He nodded, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, you following suit.

Shawn Mendes learned that night the most crucial lesson a book could teach you. He was taught that not everyone is strong, that they can crumble and fall. People can be sturdy, sarcastic, and overall bright and cheerful, yet when it’s time to be vulnerable, we all need someone to pick up the pieces. Shawn Mendes began to understand what it meant to love someone, even if he knew it before.

And you learned not to fuck around with guns.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes Imagine #mob!shawn #mob!shawn imagine #mob!shawn imagines #mob!shawn x reader #mob! imagine #mob!au #mob #au #shawn mendes au #shawn #mendes #shawn peter paul mendes #au lait

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mutantsrisingrpg · 5 years ago

Photo

Congratulations HAILEY! You’ve been accepted as JANUS.

Hailey, you took Jacksons skeleton and delivered it to us on a silver platter. I’m truly speechless at how you captured their ability to never be the same person twice. “He has never been content with one face, even before his abilities developed.” Who is Jackson deep down, does he even know that? Having them figure out who their are on a personally level and within the grand scheme of things. I also can’t believe you made me choose between two of my fave white boys.

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information:

NAME/ALIAS: Hailey

PRONOUNS: she / her

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: EST: I would say around a 5 activity wise. I usually work five days of the week now (but sometimes more) so although my hours are funky I usually have time to reply to dms after or before work, and get replies up during at least two days of the week!

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Jackson Raemers / Janus

GENDER/PRONOUNS: he / they

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:

They are the wind beneath your sails, the bandage over your wound, and the realization that it never meant anything to them.

Jackson may never covet your gilded spotlight but you would be a fool to underestimate him for it. Though he works best from the shadows, obscured by the weight of faces and names that are not his own, it’s his fingerprints that stain the success of all who wield him. He slips effortlessly through cracks others would be constrained by, both unnoticed and undetected, though the impact of his presence are neither of those things. Though you may be unable to place your overlooked hero on the streets, you will never forget how effortlessly he stanched the troubles that bleed from your veins before slipping from your grasp, another unknown stranger in the crowd. Jackson’s someone you’d want on your side, both capable and necessary, but is it because his heart blooms for your cause, or simply because it’s expected of him? So quickly shifting, so carefully adapting, if you were to blink, you might miss him, but is that not his charm? His name will never spill from your lips in adoration, yet it does nothing to still the parts of him that jump to prove himself worthy of such. Both the optimism that manifests when you most need it and the invisible force that gently urges you onward when you’ve lost hope; Jackson prioritizes that which beckons his assistance most urgently with greedy delight, perhaps, in a desperate attempt to fill the void of not knowing yet what it is that they need themselves.

The cut you get on your finger from opening a letter and the blood that stains the white carpet when it drips down.

Jackson, like most others, is a product of their past, though it’s with great strides that they aren’t entirely felled by the memory of their own. Enough has been taken from him that he resents every fragment of himself still coerced into something bitter and unfamiliar; the scars of wounds that will never heal correctly. Though he’s convinced that his purpose in the Jem Family is to spare future mutants from suffering the same fate as him, and his companions, he knows there’s a more sinister, albeit spurned, intent that resides deep within his heart. Is it truly for the betterment of all mutants? Or is there a part of them that selfishly yearns for the violent demise of the humans that hurt him? Jackson battles with his morality, determined not to become the very monster he feared as a child, though he worries what’s left of his purity may already be touched crimson by this bitterness. There are thoughts even Jackson shies away from, scared to grapple with the stranger that resides in the dark crevices of his mind. They’re already fighting one monster, what’s another?

They are the fake label that is stitched onto a shirt then sold for hundreds of dollars, the flake that comes off of a gold bar to reveal that it’s copper, and the cheap paint that washes away when an itchy suspicion turns out to be true.

They are intimately familiar with disappointment. Watching the glimmer in your eye fade after the fraudulence of their fantasies surface. That pang of realization that he is nothing more than a cheap imitation of the person you most want; someone that Jackson, himself, could never be. At times, they too wish to be the greater, more gilded thing, punished by the reminder that it’s just an act, and underneath it all, he still remains himself. His ability is but a taste of more, followed by the wrenching of such from greedy fingers as the curtain falls. With the gift to be anyone in the world, why would you ever want to be yourself? He hardly ever is, the details of his forgotten identity swept under the rug in favor of better, more appealing, traits he’s adopted. Though his ability is mighty, Jackson often wonders what would be left of him without it. Would he ever be enough, if not for the weight of power at his restless fingertips? Years of his life were overshadowed by those abilities, and how deftly he could demonstrate them. But would he carry any value, at all, when stripped of them?

They are your wildest dreams come true, willing to do what it takes to get you to believe in their lies.

Jackson dons a separate mask for every one person; figuratively, though at times, literally. He has never been content with one face, even before his abilities developed. Jackson has been abandoned and overlooked too often not to revel in the warm light of adoration, no matter the cost. He can feel your ease when he seemingly leans in the very direction you hoped he’d go, or the spark of elation when he fulfills muted desires. It’s a drug, that praise, and he longs for its buzz. Perhaps he bends the truth at times to sell the vision; that he’s exactly who you want him to be. But is it such a crime when you’re both getting what you long for most? Even when wearing the face he was born with, Jackson will tug at the details of himself until they smooth to your liking; until you weaken for the portrait he’s painted. His tongue may be as gifted as his mutant abilities, able to angle the truth that lay right in front of your very eyes. But when his pretty lies fail, there is always another identity lying in wait, convincing you to love him, no matter what it takes, no matter how little you truly know the illusion that desperately beckons your worship.

BIO: TW (ABUSE, STOCKHOLM SYNDROME)

Jackson had often wondered if it was his mother’s eyes, or his father’s, reflected back at him in the mirror. If the chilling sensation that zipped up their vertebrae in the dark was inherited, or simply a product of their own cowardice. How much of him was comprised of people he was not given the chance to remember, and how much had begun with him, and him alone? Having been given up for adoption at birth, Jackson willed his own conclusions. The first foster family he can recall were the Wilsons, and he had just turned six. Even then, he was enthralled with the parents that had abandoned him, devising make believe anecdotes about each that were far more charming and warmhearted than the inferior truth. But Jackson grew, and so did his stories. Childish fibs about how he was the spitting image of his father, or how his mother used to be read him stories every night blossomed into tales of ship crashes and war stories. He longed for the startled admiration of the other children he roomed with; the closest thing to family the boy had ever known. Jackson was lucky, his time in the foster care system had been undeniably better than that of most.

In fact, it was only after his removal that life began its downslide.

He lived in his fourth home, with the Jefferson family, in the two story brick at the end of the street. Jackson was eleven at the time. Then, he was only vaguely familiar with mutants, and of the whispers they elicited among the streets. He had no reason to think he could be one, of course, so it came as quite a shock when a foster sister attempted to tattle on Jackson and they were able to perfectly mimic the girlish whine of her voice in jest. Their flawless recitation had been no parlor trick, nor mundane talent. But the incident slipped away with little interest, having been confined to Jackson and their adolescent witness. Still, the memory of its inhumane nature simmered within him, and he longed to see if he could repeat it; a child experimenting with a new toy. After the others had gone to bed, and the house was blanketed in eerie silence, Jackson pulled the covers over his head with a mirror in one hand and a flashlight in the other. It began with impressions of voices he was familiar with; Allison Jefferon’s shrill, demanding pitch, Peter Jefferson’s gravely grumbling. It was astonishing, how his tongue so effortlessly disguised itself as one right after the other. The boy spent nights grinning ear to ear beneath his sheets, delighted with the newfound ability.

But just as quickly delight bled into panic. One afternoon, in an argument with the same rambunctious sister, Jackson thought it funny to mock her insults. But, rather than the unfamiliar tone they had practiced, they were met with their own voice. Still, shock and fear contorted the girl’s expression, sending her sprinting into the next room despite their nervous pleas for an explanation. Instead they were met with Peter Jefferson, who demanded to know how this was possible while blocking the exit of Jackson’s room. It was only with a side glance at the closet mirror that the boy saw themselves for what they had become; a direct copy of the girl whose reactions they so enjoyed. Though it was their own voice that yelled out in panic, and their own fingers that tore at the skin that did not belong to them, they instead appeared as the same sister that now cowered from them. Try as he might to reverse the sight, Jackson remained a prisoner in his own body, terrified he would be buried as this strange and unusual anomaly.

Many distressed phone calls later and Jackson was removed from the foster home by men he did not recognize, shut into a stranger’s car with no goodbyes or answers. It was with terror that they were confined to a windowless van, their heart frantically galloping in their chest. He choked on questions, and begged for help, but his captors remained silent. When he finally arrived at his destination it mirrored a hospital; sterile, cold, disarming. Jackson thought, briefly, he had been taken somewhere that could right this mistake, and return him to the person he had been before, with those fearful eyes of his lost mother or father. But he would never again be that child, and he quickly discovered the truth of his unwanted fifth home, undeniably less a home than it was a punishment.

There were various testing facilities surrounding the city of Chicago, though at the time Jackson was ignorant to their existence. Now, he was ensnared by one; a child called by a monster’s name. Mutant. He could remember the kids at school, how they had sneered the word. How Allison Jefferson had once called them abominations when the title was mentioned on the six o’clock news. It must be a mistake, he’d assured himself, shaking fingers grasping at the fabric of their allocated uniform. But quickly, and without mercy, what remained of his humanity was stripped. The boy who longed to be more human than all of the others reduced to a guinea pig. They couldn’t find one more cooperative than Jackson though, who would rather suffer through bouts of exhaustion after the abuse of their abilities than deny the facility what they demanded of him. Perhaps it was fear, or the lingering hope that his entrapment served a larger, more benevolent purpose, that pushed him past his hard limits time and time again. There were occasions when he was returned to his room so badly shaken and weary that all he could do was lay on the cold linoleum and consider the people and places from his childhood stories; the heroes he wanted to be, and the exotic lands he longed for.

There were times even Jackson’s impeccable behavior was not enough. Moments when he had proudly displayed a perfect recreation of the photograph they provided only to be struck by someone or jolted with electricity in response. At times the abuse grew so detrimental to their health they wondered what could possibly remain of them when it was all over, if it was ever to be over. Eventually the hope for escape dwindled, and they grew accustomed to the constant beep of monitors, and the purging of all freedom or individuality. Jackson’s childhood had been brutally ripped from him and because of it he expected far more of himself than any normal teenager would. If his abilities were what they wanted most, what stifled the pain, if for only a moment, he would give it to them. He would harness and sharpen his shifting skins until there was nothing left for them to want from him; until he reached the peak of his power and they were, at last, forced to accept his limit.

Jackson’s abilities were his lifeline. From the ashes of his optimism grew determination, and though he focused on his power for the wrong reasons, it was this concentration that spared him long nights of agony. The unrelenting practice redirected his mind, and maintained its sharpness, pinning it instead to a goal that Jackson desperately grasped for. Relief. It was his only outlet behind the guarded walls of the facility, and even with shaking hands he would muster its presence, as much for himself as for the scientists that watched on in scrutiny. What else did he have? No family, no friends, and no future if this torture was to continue. Only himself, and the identities he nurtured for his own feeble sanity.

It was by sheer luck his fellow mutants were less easily appeased than Jackson. He can still remember the vivid blare of warning sirens, a red haze painting the nauseating white of the walls. A fire maybe, or a raid. One could only guess what had become of the real world while Jackson withered away behind bars. But it was not flames that licked his cage, or the rumblings of a distant bomb, but another subject. A group, rather, of others like Jackson who had tired of their binds and created a key where there was not one to be found. In a flurry, the door to his confine was opened, and the various boys and girls, both adult and child, fled toward liberation. They were escaping. A plan so harrowing and disillusioned that it had not occurred to Jackson to consider. Had they gotten help? Who had organized it? How had they known he was there, waiting, clueless? He was left to his thoughts, the hall clearing as quickly as it had filled with terrified mutants, bound for freedom. At any moment the guards would surely return, tightening the leashes upon their throats to reel them back to their chambers.

Time had blurred together, minutes languidly blended into one exhausting eternity as Jackson remained curled in a ball against the clinical white of his room. So many unfamiliar faces had passed, restless, wild, in their search for sanctuary, but Jackson was rooted to the floor. His knees trembling against his chest in panic. If the punishment for existing scarred their skin and bruised their bone, what would become of those mutants that greedily chased more? The temptation was so great Jackson vibrated with it, the need aching in his heavy chest, but they had been bitten too many times among these corridors. Maybe it was a test. Perhaps, he would lie in wait, cooperative and meek, and the guards would have mercy on him in the wake of his pristine behavior. He could not fathom the alternative. A life somehow worse than the one that already clung to his weary bones like shackles. Jackson couldn’t, in good conscience, betray himself that carelessly. Ultimately, it was not that fearful boy who made the decision. But rather a fellow mutant, who beckoned him. Who encircled his wrist in their grasp and pulled him loose from his submission. It was the turning point of his world, that day, and yet it crashes on his conscious like roaring waves. A blink of relieved mutants there, a glimpse of determined hands pulling him through the wreckage of the facility, a glance at the gentle expressions that lulled him into a car, much the same as the van he arrived in. The day returned in fragments, then his chest had heaved too rapidly, his head split with far too much tension, to place every minute detail. But since, every relocated shard has surfaced with gratitude.

Jackson had never heard of the Jem Family before his escape. Until they had dusted the ash from him, like a forgotten phoenix who not yet had the strength to rise themselves. In a sense, they were his sixth foster home. The one that finally stuck, resolute and steadfast. In their embrace he found acceptance, unlike that he’d ever known before them. When his fingers shook and his gaze flickered away from contact, they were there. When he resented himself, and the abilities that had slipped the cruel noose around his throat for many years, they were there. The same power that had worked as a desperate distraction now served as a wicked reminder of his time spent in captivity. They felt less like his, as if he had robbed the facility of their cherished work. For a time, Jackson imagined that being ordinary would be easier. Better. He abandoned his talents for those more socially accepted, and after years of grappling with the sickly feeling that blossomed at his mutant traits, enrolled in college. He would find a new talent, one that even the humans that ostracized him could appreciate.

He had been robbed of so much normalcy. He finally had a real family, and still, it was not enough. Selfishly, he wanted more. The job, the house, the wife. The future that had been dangled in front of his eyes, and subsequently, severed while imprisoned. If Jackson could blend in, and escape the mutant brand, perhaps it was not yet lost. The aspirations he had once daydreamed about could be fulfilled, if only he could swallow the half of himself that stood in the way. The half of himself that had already unraveled his hopes once before. But he had far better control now; never again would he look in the mirror and be startled by what he saw. His abilities could only rear their ugly head if he allowed them to, if he summoned them, and then, just entering adulthood, he planned not to. They would suffocate alongside all of the memories he carried of being abnormal.

Perhaps, in a sense, that was Jackson’s teen rebellion. It could have lasted, possibly, had the local news not carried such concerning developments on mutants around the country. Every day they were confronted with horror stories, some far worse than what Jackson himself had endured. The Jem family made it a point not to shield him from every horrific detail, instead swaddling him in positive reinforcement. The trick was not to comply to the country’s social norms, but to demand equal treatment for those who could not meet the impossible standards. They hammered it into his brain. The cause had saved him. Did he not want to do the same for others? Did he not want to be the salvation for some other trembling child, starved of freedom?

The more the surrounding abuse escalated, the more inclined Jackson was to entertain his once banished abilities. It took no shortage of support, and encouragement from the Jem Family. Especially as his eyes glazed over, and his heart squeezed beneath his ribcage; the torment Jackson endured present in every celebrated advancement of his powers. It, at times, hurt. In the same way it might have to break through the steel of unwanted chains. Repression was no light weight, and Jackson, like Atlas, had shouldered far too much for far too long. But in time, he could feel how it sloughed off his shoulders. How he breathed a little easier with the gentle coaxing from those that could truly understand him, and the pain of a past he longed to forget. He was no longer that scared child, fending for itself. He was not alone anymore, a solitary sacrifice to science. He was part of something. Something with claws and razor sharp teeth that could seize back all that had been stolen from Jackson.

He only hopes he was not rescued from one monster, and fated to become another. At times, Jackson carries more humanity than those entirely so. Living with the burden of remaining soft in a world that so often yearned to splinter his edges into something deadly. But how can he shy away from its violence without hiding from those that plead for his help? How can he betray those that are what he, at his core, is himself? A mutant.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

LUCA MENDOZA: Many would never gravitate to Jackson without his illusions and honeyed words, yet when Luca caught him on a bad day they were all ears and, under their willful gaze, he found plenty to say. He knows he’s skirting sharpened edges with Luca, but when they look at Jackson they give him nothing; no hint to mold himself around. All that remains is himself, and the words that fall unbidden at Luca’s presence. Maybe he’s a fool to trust them as he does, baring his heart to someone that would just as surely carve him of it, yet he does in spite of the warnings. Perhaps because Luca’s strength, no matter how off-putting to some, ensnares him like an unsuspecting moth to a flame that fails to find its own. I would love to see as the two develop whether there will come a day where there’s something they can’t agree on or look past and it grows to cause fissures in the wall they’ve built around their relationship. Or if, oppositely, one is driven to do something out of character in order to protect/appease the other and it changes them as a person, and ultimately the dynamic the two share.

NEVE KAPLAN: The first person to ever truly know Jackson, and the first to love him in spite of it. Because it was, no matter how she shies from the emotion, love. How freeing it was to meet someone who could liberate them from their net of lies and niceties, and embrace the less glamorous parts of him. In Neve’s presence they never felt the urge to bite their tongue, or swallow thoughts for her to deem them worthy. During the course of their relationship, he’d tasted the normalcy he so craved as a teenager. The bliss of routine he never thought could belong to someone like himself. Slowly, his veil of shame lifted as Neve demanded to see the presence beyond. Who was he to deny her anything when she’d given him everything? A family, a love, a confidante. But while the girl had filled Jackson’s wanting hands, he had failed to return the favor. More than he, she yearned for retribution. The very desire he often wrestled and longed to suffocate bloomed within Neve effortlessly. As time wore on, it became clear which of the two she held dearer to her heart, despite Jackson’s efforts. She will always be the one that got away, though he fears she will become a stranger to even herself as obsession needles at the parts of her he most adored. Pain festering within her until the person he once loved becomes swallowed whole in its mutiny.

As a child, Jackson’s mind was plagued with selfless heroes and hedonistic adventures. In Neve he sees the bones of those imagined villains, and he fears she will meet the same fate should he not intervene. I can’t wait to see these two interact! Jackson will always carry this unique bond with her and I’d love to see what he’d do to protect it. How will her motivations intersect with his own and those of the Jem Family? Will it one day cause problems for the others he considers family, and will he be forced to decide between the two? Could Neve eventually cross a line even Jackson can’t defend, or will he submerge himself in the same depravity in hopes of pulling her free from it? I think he is hopelessly attached to Neve and I’d love to see the depths he’d go and the sacrifices he’d make to salvage what remains of her.

CAIN DOUGLAS: Jackson is someone who aches to be liked, and Cain seems to enjoy pressing their thumb against the wound. Sure, he may be far too careless or distracted at times but the doctor’s rage is unmatched. He’s not sure of the exact moment he fingered the wrong button on Douglas, but how he yearns to undo it. No matter how he tries to joke and soften their demeanor he’s met with unparalleled annoyance. Still, if Jackson is anything, it’s persistent, and in the wake of Cain’s rejection he finds himself searching for common ground. Usually, he finds more give in the walls he prods, but with the doctor they’ve found disappointingly little. In an attempt to ease their dislike and garner their help, Jackson’s even resorted to offering them bits of information. A secret here, a weighted question there, waiting eagerly for that flicker of interest in their glare. But should it not manifest, Jackson is relieved for the input, no matter how hostile or unhelpful. Though Cain might simmer at the sight of him, Jackson can’t deny the way he lingers on their words and reactions, in careful observation. There’s a lot to learn from someone so seemingly opposite to himself, and if the two are fated to spend so many hours together, he just might take advantage of it. I’m really interested to see how this could progress! Jackson garners respect for Cain despite their differences, and I’d like to see if eventually he could pique their interest, perhaps with something serious or dire that he meant to keep quiet from the others. Or if it’s as simple as Jackson finally proving himself with some unexpected act that meets Cain’s standards. Otherwise, I do love enemies and it’d, oppositely, be super fun to see how Cain’s annoyance could blossom and what it would create within Jackson to be met with such growing aggression when they ache for the opposite.

EXTRA: a pinterest board here (x)

HEADCANONS

Began to collect a lot of house plants aftering dating Neve but her green thumb never rubbed off. It took days of research just to learn how to keep a succulent alive for longer than a week at a time.

Really enjoys reading and, in particular, immersing themselves in stories/poems with heros and travel tales.

Outside of his mutant abilities, Jackson grew to be quite an actor due to his careful observation of those around him. It mainly stemmed from self defense reasons: foster care, and entrapment, but stuck over time. He has no desire to pursue it, but it’s a good party trick for telling stories (that are not always factual) and jokes at parties. It’s only when those pesky feelings interfere that their body betrays them, and their gift falls to the wayside.

Jackson is bisexual/biromantic and awful at dating.

A documentary junkie. Whether it’s something he’s interested in or not, Jackson breezed through the Netflix selections in a week, trying to expand their horizons. They would blame it on general research for facts and details that might be of use while masquerading as someone else, but he really just wants to collect hobbies and knowledge in search of fulfillment.

Very simplistic/minimal taste in both clothes and interior decorating (which means, in so many words, they’re too lazy to venture outside their comfort zone.)

A dog person with no dogs. 10/10 will pet your dog.

Likes being outdoors and feels like he’s suffocating if he doesn’t get out often enough. Outside of needing company and hating to be alone for extended periods, he starts to feel trapped if he doesn’t get fresh air and room to roam after long intervals stuck between four walls.

ANYTHING ELSE: If possible I might prefer an alt fc of Richard Madden but if you’re attached to Jack Lowden no worries!

#accepted #accepted: janus

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mc-critical · 4 years ago

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Watching the MY series, a generational pattern I’ve noticed in the series is how jealous daughter-in-laws become unsympathetic mother-in-laws. Such as Hafsa telling Hürrem she’ll have to learn to “share the sultan as she once did.” Or Mahidevran telling Fatma that surely Mustafa wasn’t going to seek her permission before marrying Helena or lying with other women. Or Kösem telling Aysë and Farya that their purpose, along with the rest of the harem, is pleasing her son and etc etc etc. I wonder if it’s a trauma response of sorts? Something parallel to “if I couldn’t have the monogamous married life than neither will you” kind of thing?

It's not only a pattern, I guess it was the reality of those days. A self fulfilling toxic cycle. They are different people after all and their motivations shape up how they came to be in different ways and yet, that particular behaviour obviously originates from the exact same place.

It's a part of the adaption to the circumstances in the harem, something that is just inevitable. No matter how hard one resists, there is always someone that would remind them of the rules they should follow, of their position, because it's precisely the polygamous system that is established, what the harem leans upon. Putting an end to it is unheard of and presumably impossible. But the interesting thing is, this is what all these women stand up the most against early on, the thought they would ever accept it never slipping their mind. They show hard resistence against these rules and everyone, more or less, wants the Sultan/the Prince all for themselves and the reason is two-fold: because they love him or have learned to love him dearly (most of the cases in the show, probably to minimize the toxicity in these relationships) and because this was the most effective way to gain at least a bit of peace and stability and privileges in their life. But finally, we see how they've given in and how they've absorbed and now apply what they have been told. Why? They all get so engrained in this harem life, it drains their youth, their innocence, their dreams, their ideals and when they're older, already into all the power and the intriguous, mysoginistic environment, they recite to new people all these same rules all over again. Perhaps to get used to them before they do the foolish mistakes they did, perhaps truly because of the trauma they've experienced and never got the chance to cope with, using every possible chance to hammer in the fact that these other people shouldn't even try - the fight is already lost. Trying to change this "law" would only bring in conflict and would cost everyone in the room dearly.

The MC/K franchise presents the evolution of this cycle very thoroughly with one sultana after another, connecting the adaption to the system with other different factors that depend on origin, personality and character themes in the beginning and as the series go on, so I might as well briefly go to each Sultana I can recall, one by one:

This high and mighty initial remark sets its roots, of course, with the collective representative of the old traditions herself, Hafsa Sultan. She applies it to Hürrem and Mahidevran, and is very firm in keeping it, it seems she has even devoted her whole rule of the harem to it. The notable thing is, she is a Crimean princess, a member of a dynasty, one who is actually married to her Sultan (confirmed in E49-50.), on a high position from the start, and yet, she had to witness "other women". She probably was "into" the laws even before she went to the harem, and when she had experienced blows from them firsthand, her will to keep them in check had probably strengthened even more. She may be one of these cases where she really uses the remark out of spite on a personal level ("You don't know what hardships I had to experience with Sultan Selim." i.e well, I experienced it, so should you!), but that also couples with her love for the law overall, that is so in line with who she is and her overall character traits. ("Love in this harem doesn't exist../Love makes you blind."; "The Sultan can't be with only one woman.")

Hürrem is a particularly interesting case, because she's the one whose fight with the laws and traditions is shown the most, in all stages, and yet, she succumbs to the "obligatory" remark anyway. She applies it to Nurbanu and Huricihan, which, despite of the other reasons present, is exemplary of what the harem is capable of doing even to the most daring and rebellious people. I see her character arc as symbolic to letting the past go and the adaptation to current curcumstance. She was very often going with the flow, risking it all for success, but her fight with the polygamous system was ultimately, the biggest fight she had fight with the haremly traditions. Gülnihal, Sadıka, the Russian concubines, Isabella, Firuze, Nazenin... no, it was hard and tough, having to face it in every season, and it ended only when she realized her life would be over. (signora Porzia in S04 around E131-132, while neither a concubine, nor an arc, being more of a thematic reminder of how well known Hü is around the world, still spent time with Süleiman and seemed to show a last sign of slight jealousy on Hürrem.) In fact, to completely win Süleiman over, is one of the first things she set herself to achieve (with Nigar's advice in the first episode.) and due to it opposing the system in its very core, it had the most stable traditional opposition. It questions the system itself, it risks to break it all apart, and she didn't fully succeed. It must have been exhausting for her to track one woman after another and to put her love to the test again and again. She didn't fully make it, and believe it or not, she realizes it very well. And this whole desire connected with her striving to achieve the highest position in the hierarchy. She fought to get rights for herself, but not for anyone else. So, when she finds herself in a comfort zone, she applies what Valide Hafsa and the others have once applied against her, being more than them and thus, already too far gone to sympathize. (I think this post elaborates on these dimensions of Hürrem's character way better than I ever could, though being more about how another aspect of the toxic system, the elitism, is applied in what ways, respectively.) It's more of a turning into a ready product of the environment rather than some personal negative resentment or entitlement, even though that could be it, too, as an endorsement of her ethos that she's Hürrem Sultan and no one could be like her. (as also said by Selim, her own son.)

We encounter something quite similar with Mahidevran on some extent, with her not only striving to be the only woman SS loves in his life, it was something she already had, and only then had to fight to get back - making rash, impulsive decisions due to the loss of her attachment, which is why accepting and getting in accordance with her loss is presented more as character development than regression. And ironically (or not), it began to happen after her conversation with Valide after she sent Sadıka to SS in E16, seeming to take her advice to heart. (her stopping to be jealous of other concubines, even befriending them in their distaste for Hürrem.) But then again, the coin always has two sides, because while she got calmer, wiser and more decisive in Manisa, every possible sympathy she could have to those that experience the same, is now gone. She applies these remarks to Fatma and Elena for them to begin living with it and behave accordingly. For them to accept it, just like she once did. She does judge them to herself. ("All good things come to an end. It's hard to accept it, but I accepted it. Because this is the truth.") And because Mahidevran also cherishes laws and tradition and considers every single imprudence as unprecedented and off limits, she would obviously recite the words Valide reminded her of every other day, to "keep piece and order".

After these three cases, this remark turns into a behaviour, applied more to those the Sultanas would perceive as ambitious rivals to themselves, that began building up from Hürrem and Nubanu, and would keep on to the other "generation" of the Sultanate of Women right into Kösem.

Nurbanu, albeit not so directly, applies it to Safiye. With her being sent from Mihrimah and her bold streak, Nurbanu perhaps used it as a "precaution", to warn her what is in front of her. She probably doesn't hold much belief in a monogamous relationship, especially due to what she experienced with Dilşah, but her relationship with Selim was way more stable than any of this kind in the show.

With Safiye we actually have something bizarre, because right in episode 1, she tells Anastasia that the possibility of going home is the first thing she should forget, and yet, she utters this "weird" (in retrospect) quote: "Should we tell her that the only thing that could make this cage bearable is love?". She doesn't tell her that she has to accept "other women", she motivates her to fight for her love and to get it, seeing her potential. But that happens only as a long as she's loyal to her. Once Anastasia became Kösem and she didn't give Safiye the reciprocal loyalty, their enmity began.

Kösem is the paralleling contrast to Hürrem, since she doesn't truly adapt to this system, but she merges herself with the country that is vital to this system. This is why she applies it to Farya and Ayşe. I think Kösem is the sultana that accounts personal feelings the least here, since she's the one that let them behind in favor of the country. So, her reminding Ayşe and Farya of their purpose, is to prevent them from causing any kind of unrest. Because she values her relationship with Ahmet and sees it as something beyond love. ("Today, I married not only Sultan Ahmet, but the country, too!" - this isn't the exact quote, but the meaning is the same.)

#magnificent century #ask #stuffandthangs

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treatian · 5 years ago

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: The Dark Curse

Chapter 16: The Deal that Never Was

The deed was done far before dawn's earliest light; there wasn't a doubt about that in his mind. The deal was done. Jethero was dead. When his body finally was found, there would be no denying it was not Alexandra who killed him, and by all accounts, he should be well on his way to picking up the rest of his tea set by now. Actually, by the time the sun rose, he acknowledged that he should have picked up his tea set hours ago and be home studying it by now trying to identify it's importance in the future. But there he sat, still up in the trees looking down at the barn, unmoving, just like he had been all night.

He told himself that it was just to be sure, to make absolutely positive that Jethero was dead, but the truth was he didn't need to see the carnage to know and it wasn't what he was waiting for. What he was really waiting for was-

That.

For nearly as soon as the sun rose, he heard a scream emerge from that barn, high pitched and blood-curdling. But he didn't take any satisfaction from it. In fact, he didn't know why it affected him quite the way it did. Granny had turned him down and he'd resorted to doing what he knew he had to in order to make the deal work, but somehow…her scream rang out in his ears, repeating over and over again. His heart was hard these days. He had very few cares in the world and yet this Granny, this…girl-she had found one of those soft spots. And in the night, the idea of walking off and leaving her to this alone had seemed wrong in a way that the murder of Jethero had not.

In the middle of the night, after the screams of Jethero had given way to nothing but the sounds of ripping flesh he'd gone back into the house to send his puppets back to the castle where they belonged and also had grabbed the key Donna had used to lock her away with. Now, though he was two dozen feet up in the air at least, he easily slid off of the branch he sat on and the next minute was safely on the ground. At the door of the barn, he heard no motion, no tugging or pulling on the chain that bound her, only the sound of weeping. Weeping…from this woman...it sounded as silly as saying she was bleating! And yet, when he finally removed the spell he'd placed on the barn door and opened it, he saw that he wasn't wrong. She was a huddled mass against the far wall, her head was in her hands, and her body shook from the sobs that came screaming out of her mouth. At least until the barn door opened and the light flooded in.

Scared and afraid were two words he'd never thought would describe this woman, but they were all he could think to use for the look in her eyes as she finally turned her head to look up at the figure before her. A moment later he knew that she was aware of who he was, and she scrambled to her feet.

"You!" she screamed as she looked around the scene in front of her. And what a scene it was too. Now that he let his eyes roam as her own did he could see the bloody pulp of a mess on the ground that was once a man. There was blood on the walls, bloody paw prints on the ground, scratch marks on the wood. Alexandra had truly gotten her wish…Jethero had suffered. And now Granny…

"You…you tricked me!" she cried as she slowly came to the realization of what had happened. "You tricked me into…oh…what have I done?!" She put her hands to her head and sank down against the back wall again as she cried the chains around her clacking and clanging with her movements.

"You've done exactly as I intended," he explained in a low voice, his natural voice. There was no need to toy with her, no need to put on a show. She desired nothing of him now but answers and there was no reason why she shouldn't have them. "You can rest assured, Dearie, that what you've done is squash a pest, a true insect."

She shook her head as her eyes remained focused on the former body. "No one deserves this…"

"He was a philanderer. A swine. And now, thanks to you, there can be no doubt to the authorities that he was not killed by the wife or children he's tormented with his lies and deceit. They'll have enough money to survive the winter and get back on their feet before the wife remarries."

"And what was in it for you?" she demanded finally looking back up at him. Her eyes were red, her face swollen from the tears she'd shed, but he could still see the anger in her, he could hear the bit of it in her tone. "Why did you care about them? What was worth all of that? All of this?!"

Oh, she was a sympathetic sight, that much was certain, but he wasn't stupid enough to fall for those doe eyes no matter how attractive her fire was. She was too good for him, and the answer that she was after wasn't even really clear to him yet, though he doubted she'd find that and acceptable excuse.

"That's my business. It's nothing that concerns you…at least not yet."

"Not yet…" she choked out a laugh that was somewhere between a snort and a sob. "What does that mean?"

In truth, he hadn't known what it meant, not until she'd asked. Not until he told himself that he should go and leave her be and the monster that lived within his own skin rebelled and reminded him what a wonderful tool a creature with her abilities could be! She might look sad and pathetic now, but she was a strong woman underneath it all. Having her on his side could be helpful, at least until he figured out the images and riddles coming into his mind.

"You think yourself a monster-"

"I am a monster!" she bit back, rising to her feet so quickly the chain still tied around her arm rattled. "You may have set out all the ingredients Rumpelstiltskin, but I'm the one that made the cake! I did this! Me! And that makes me a monster!"

He took a few deep breaths. He didn't particularly care for being yelled at or interrupted but given her state, he could excuse it.

"You think yourself a monster, but you are not. Not really. There are many werewolves in our realm, an entire family has lived right under your nose for decades before you came along and you never knew it because they can control themselves. Your troubles come from a lack of control. You fight the wolf inside of you and so it always wins. Accept what you are, and control becomes yours. You'll be naught but an ordinary wolf once a month, not hunted, not a murderer. I can help you come to accept what you are…if you give me the chance."

So that was what it was. He hadn't realized what he'd found so compelling about the woman until this very moment, until he'd begun his temptation, but now he saw it. She was him. Years ago after receiving the Dark Curse. She was who he'd been then when he'd been unwilling to truly embrace his new nature and the fight against it had cost him everything, including Baelfire! He saw himself in her eyes. Along with her potential.

But what he saw didn't matter. All that mattered was what Granny saw when he offered his hand to her. And as she looked quickly between that hand and the bloody scene over his shoulder, he was fairly certain that she didn't see things the way he did.

"No," she stated stepping away the little she could with the chain still attached to her wrist. "No, I won't do that! I won't be the monster you think I am and I will never be indebted to you in any way! I will never, ever, be this…again!"

He knew a desperate soul when he saw one, which meant that despite what she thought, he also recognized a satisfied soul. She meant every word she'd said, and that meant there was no deal to be made. He'd keep her in his sights, watch her grow into the "Granny" he already thought of her as, but this was the last of their transactions. He felt it just as much as he knew it. And before he left, he felt an odd compulsion to do what he'd never done before as the Dark One, magic at no cost…even if he knew it would rebound and make him worse than he was. He simply thought of it as the fulfillment of the deal that never was.

From beneath his own cloak he pulled out the brilliant red one he'd made and originally intended to give to her. He dropped it at her feet the way she had dropped it at his before all this.

"Keep the cloak, Dearie, blame the destruction on the wolf, and leave this place. The realm may never know we ever met. Use it, tell your family a wizard gave it to you, if they ask, put this behind you and live your life as you intended."

Her eyes…she had suck striking eyes. Firm and observant, but at the same time whoever had once said the eyes were the window to the soul must have known her because they were. She didn't say thank you, but he knew that the tears in her eyes were not only tears of anger as well as sadness and pain, but now mingled with tears of gratitude. She'd never say thank you, she wasn't that type of person, but he knew the cloak made all the difference.

His head turned as he began to hear voices outside. Male voices. They smelled blood. The Lucas family had returned from their own dalliances with the full moon. And so he used his magic to leave her there in the barn, the key to her chain still with him. He'd let that woman discover on her own that he'd dropped her into the barn of a wolves just like her. They had a son about her age, and foresight had proven that future generations would someday come in handy. He trusted that, for what he'd seen had already come to pass. No matter what happened from this point on, whenever they encountered one another in the future, he had no doubt theirs would always be a complicated relationship.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #rumpelstiltskin #Granny #werewolf #ouat #fanfic

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