#Descendants of them who genuinely do NOT have a mother country to return to do to expulsions

[noahtally-famous]

some Dave family & childhood/adolescence headcanons:

bc I wanna dissect this guy and his mind fr-

(fyi I'm desi (a person of South Asian descent born in another country), and I'm like 99% sure Dave is desi as well, so this is just a note for ppl so y'all are aware that I'm an Indian too! however, if anything at all mentioned below doesn't sound right (and not opinions, though I'd love to hear those too, I mean like actual info) pls lmk!)

uh, also mentions of homophobia, internalized homophobia, and trauma relating to mysophobia

some of these might be subject to change or tweak here and there, but overall, I'm satisfied with what I have!

- his father is a prestigious businessman who was born in Canada—he worked his way from the ground up as his parents (Dave’s grandparents) were immigrants from India; his reputation is everything to him, and he sees his family as a way to enhance said reputation so that he doesn’t lose face.

- his mother is descended from a wealthy family—she likes to say her great-grandfather was a Baron who’d resided on the India-Nepal border—and she was born in London. It was her grandparents (Dave’s great-grandparents) who emigrated from India to the UK. She’s artistic and the lower level of their house is her own studio.

- Dave’s parents marriage was more of an ‘alliance’ than anything. It’s little details that are also glaringly obvious that signified to him that his parents really didn’t love each other in that way—and if they did, it isn’t a priority; things like his mother hyphenating her last name and not fully taking his fathers, the distance in the way they interact, just slight emotional ticks that let him know their love was more of a facade.

- since then, Dave vowed that if he ever found someone, the love they’d share would be real and genuine—ironically, he became a bit of a romantic (okay, a huge romantic). Obv his parents weren’t good role models in the romance department but all those movies he’d watched are!

- anyway back to the family; Dave’s father spent long hours either at the office or traveling for business. Whenever he’s away, their house feels a bit more like a home—his mother unfurls like a flower and her already overprotective nature due to his weak immune system heightens, and Dave let’s himself believe he’s a normal guy in a normal family when this happens.

- but eventually his father returns and the emotional distance ensues, the high expectations, his mother retreating back into her shell, and the reality hits that he just can’t ever be ordinary.

- only one person has brought up the topic of a divorce and it’s his older brother; it’s mentioned half-heartedly too as though he knew she’ll disagree. It’s a funny thing; Dave’s mother does love his father and maybe that feeling is returned, but there’s so much weight and expectations and pressure they’d placed upon themselves that whatever affection is straining.

- his father reacts to this by overworking himself; his mother by retreating.

- (Dave also vowed that him and his lover won’t have a relationship this complicated. It’ll be simple, cliche, normal, and perfect.)

- Dave has Middle Child Syndrome. He has three other siblings and he’s not just the middle kid, but also the kid who doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing (in other words, who doesn’t seem to be able to ‘enhance the family name rep’. He’s just…There.)

- perhaps that’s why he and his father are so distant—more than his siblings are. No matter how hard he tries to impress his father with anything, it goes awry and/or his father never seems to give him more than a curt nod.

- there’s his older sister: she’s graduated from law school, is 25, and is currently an attorney for their fathers business. She goes with him on his business trips, and Dave is so not jealous. She’s strong, bold, and isn’t afraid to look assholes, sexism, and racism in the eye and shoot them down with her words and expressions. She’s like the shield, a mature presence in the siblings’ lives.

- his older brother is second. A double-major in history and business, and 22 years old. At first, he was meant to take on the mantle of their fathers business when the time was right. However, that took a drastic turn when news got out that his brother was fully and utterly homosexual. Naturally the equation in his fathers head was: ‘homosexuality = hate = losing precious reputation’ and the following arguments that spawned between the two of them from this were some of the nastiest. That’s when Dave, listening in keyholes, over banisters, and in other random locations, found out one huge thing: his father is a homophobe.

- (not that that mattered to him. He’s straight, he liked only girls. Right?)

- anyway, their father told his brother to ‘hide his gayness’ and pretend he’s straight. His brother said that’s bullshit and that everything rich ppl do is ‘pretend’. Long story short, his brother moved out. Currently, he lives in Europe and owns an art gallery that his mother sends her artwork to (his father found out abt that once, and that resulting fight was a mess too--but dw she still does it and he can't stop her).

- Dave hates him. He wants to hate him so fucking badly for leaving him behind, for not listening to their dad and pretending to be straight, for being gay in the first place! Bc he and his brother were tight; they were super close and he’s the one guy Dave felt he could rely on and now?? He’s in another damn continent and Dave’s stuck in this suffocating atmosphere and ugh, goddammit he wants to hate him but he can’t bc he’s his brother and he loves him. So yeah. He def has mixed feelings lmao

- (this is also when his internalized homophobia started. He doesn’t care who other ppl love, he just cares who he loves. He’s not making the same mistake his brother did.)

- his younger sister, 14-15 years old, going into high school. Unlike the rest of their siblings, she doesn't want to be bogged down by office work or business drags. With a foot in every sport imaginable and an expert breakdancer, she's already got her sights set on making it professional in the sports category or becoming a famous dancer (maybe both, depending on how good she is, and she is good). She may only be in 9th grade, but words already spread that she's been scouted to go pro. She takes self-defense classes, helps coach soccer and softball for the younger kids during summers, and basically whatever her siblings didn't do in the athletic field, she's making do with flying colors.

- so yeah. After all this, you can see why Dave feels as lost as he does. Whichever way he turns, there's one or more of his siblings achieving great things, and he's just there...doing nothing...not being recognized because he's good at nothing. Just average. At every goddamn thing.

- normally he'd be fine with that, considering that's what ordinary ppl feel and that's what he wants to be, but it goes at odds with the side of him who wants to impress his father, make his mother proud, also stay at the same level as his siblings are.

- he's just so confused, he doesn't know what to do, and he's too scared to take a step forward. He's just some sheltered rich kid who doesn't understand/know cues in society, what good is that?

- onto his childhood/adolescence; boarding schools. That's basically all he's known. And ofc it has to be fancy boarding schools that the parents of other rich kids send them bc despite Dave being so average, his father will be damned if he sends him off to some middle-grade school.

- boarding schools left their own respective impressions on him as well. He used to be made fun of, teased, and even bullied bc rich ppl are nasty and they don't hold back—even to one of their own (especially to one of their own). One stark incident that left a huge mark on him was when he was eleven and his bullies took things a bit too far--you can't put a bunch of kids whose parents are competitive maniacs in a harsh cooperative and/or political world together and expect nothing crazy to happen; this was one of those crazy incidents. Long story short: some older kids took advantage of the fact that Dave has a weak immune system, lots of dirt was involved, a near burying-alive incident, lots of name-calling and taunting, and, as a result, on top of his immune system problems, he developed mysophobia too—which added more to his germaphobic tendencies.

- Whenever he's in a situation similar to the one that triggered this phobia, he falls into a panic. Those first few weeks, months, couple of years, it was horrible; only his siblings (mainly his younger sister and older brother bc his older sister was away a lot) and his best friend at the time would make any headway pulling him out of that trauma. Overtime (and the only time Dave was actively determined to do smth) he forced himself, his mind, his body reactions, to tune in with his thoughts so that if he ever got into a panic, he'd have a greater chance of pulling himself out instead of relying on someone else.

- but yeah. He has mysophobia, is a germaphobe, and has a weak immune system (smth his father considered a weakness) so him asking if smth is unhealthy or dangerous or "of questionable origin" isn't just him being a hypochondriac.

- that wasn't the only thing he went through in boarding schools. But, before we get to that, imma just say after that incident, he learned his lesson—he learned that rich kids are nasty pieces of shit and he's not gonna get anywhere the way he's being right now. So he excels in the art of people-watching, of careful observation that over time just becomes a habit/instinct—scoping out the opposition. He knows who's the assholes, who're worth interacting with, what to do to stay under the radar. Like magic, the lack of bullies dwindles once he starts doing that, and he finds out that everyone rlly does have something to hide—but he's not a blackmailer, he just observes, gives a mental nod, and moves on with his life.

- he often fluctuates with what his father would expect of him, and what he expects from himself; one of them is the lengths to go to stay on top. For example, despite knowing he's not a blackmailer, he'll still hesitate bc it's "what his father would've wanted".

- anyway, he's switched boarding schools twice—the first bc of the dirt incident, the second bc that's when he got his sexual awakening:

- his best friend in that boarding school—the only person he lets loose around—ends up also being someone he, to his horror, gets a crush on. Why horror, you might ask? Simple: his best friend is a guy.

- see: Dave's internalized homophobia. My dude already has fluctuating feelings abt impressing his dad, if he comes out as liking guys, he just knows that's not gonna be well-received. Literally, the one thing he thought wouldn't ever happen does. So he reacts in typical Dave-fashion: he panics, and does what his mum would do: retreat. He basically runs away from the problem lmfao, he ignores his best friend—which he still feels guilty for to a degree bc the one person who accepted him for who he was and supported him, and he just...stomped on him bc of a sexuality crisis lmao. And that's not the worst of it: he actually nails the head in the coffin by asking his dad to switch him to another boarding school bc his roommate is gay. (And yeah, ofc, they were roommates lmao).

- not his best moment, everyone's well aware.

- (and try as he might, his bisexuality (though he doesn't know that he's bisexual yet) isn't "gone" like he hoped it was; it's more so repressed, buried, deep within him, but in a manner that one tilt off-axis will send him spiraling into another sexuality crisis)

- anyway, he's in his third boarding school when he comes across the Total Drama audition flyer online, and decides why the heck not lmao.

- before his younger sister was born, Dave spent most of his early childhood at his aunts place—his mother's younger sister. The utter normalcy of the place compared to what he’s used to astounds little him, and his visits there leave a great impact on him. His aunt, an art teacher at a local school, had a small, modest house filled with sketches, paintings, murals, and the various designs and bright colors were mesmerizing to him. They took him to a world where only colors mattered and nothing else. His aunt doted on him too, and Dave loved spending his days in that house more than his own place.

- Unfortunately, when he was seven, his aunt died—a mundane way to die for a mundane young lady, he couldn’t help thinking; (I'm thinking either getting hit by a car while crossing the street or what is a 'simple viral infection' which turned out to actually be a tumor). As mentioned though, those times left a great impact on him. Made him realize that it is possible to an extent to lead an ordinary life even while connected to such extraordinary. It also made him harbor a love for art—any and all kind of it (except maybe pottery bc it’s messy, as well as the unconventional types like using dirt and the outdoors as tools).

- her death, if I wanna go the tumor route, will emphasize his germaphobic tendencies and his mysophobia. Depending on which road I wanna take, if I do this, the dirt incident at the boarding school won’t have happened, maybe?? not quite sure 🤔

- given all this, it's no wonder he has attachment issues. Usually, he's standoffish, he keeps to himself, he still interacts with ppl but he doesn't trust or get close to ppl easily. But when he does, when he finds someone who he actually vibes with, he sorta just...latches to them bc of this worry that they might leave him, or the other shoe will drop, or smth bad will happen to them. Basically, it's hard for him to let go. He's capable of it, but it's difficult for him to process—heightened depending on how strong the bond is with the other person.

- being ordinary is the center point of this guy's persona—his core existence. it's why when he auditioned for Total Drama, he's labeled as "A Normal Guy". He didn't mention anything abt his family and if he had to, it was the bare minimum; no one knows who his parents are, who he's connected to, they just know him as a germaphobic average joe.

bonus stuff:

- for his last name, I'm thinking Jha??? idk I rlly like it and I think it suits him.

- vegetarian, due to his cultural background.

- hates horror movies, he's the guy to cling onto your hand or arm if you're watching one with him, and def the type to scream at the jump scares and then curse up a storm.

- gore is a no. it's too messy and makes his stomach twist; same with zombies bc uh...the effects are basically overkill for him. (Shawn dared him during one of their scavengings that if he won the show, Dave would watch a bit of The Walking Dead with him. Rip Dave lmao.)

- he can tolerate horror and gory movies, btw, he just doesn't prefer it.

- I've this standing silly hc that he and Noah are family friends; as a desi, let me tell you, we've a lot of family friends lmao. The opposites of his and Noah's home lives only serve to prove that it is possible to lead a normal life where your emotions aren't secondary to the public.

- despite leading a variety of lives, Dave and his siblings are pretty close! When they were little, they used to have tree-climbing contests, which is why, even if his arms might look chickeny, his legs are pretty strong stamina-wise. They might be more distant now with a lot more differences between them, but they're capable of standing together when need be.

- speaks English and Hindi; due to his upbringing, he's fluent in several other languages too.

- obv closet disaster bi; his main fear is someone will find out and his sexuality will be exposed on international television

- likes to garden, but only if he's wearing gardening gloves; he also feels productive when doing so bc it makes him feel strong tackling the dirt to let beautiful plants grow—like facing his fears to let smth else grow there instead. He has several potted plants in his house.

- while he seems standoffish and 'colder' at first, ironically, he also has the tendency to get emotional easily. Especially when it comes to rejection—he's not very good at handling that. Basically he's a mix of nervousness and distant—he can be quick to judge, especially when it comes to ppl who have different quirks like Beardo and Leonard.

- he learned coding bc that’s what his dad wanted him to do. All he got from his father was the usual ‘curt nods’ so he thinks he’s just average at it. Whenever his dad gives him one of those nods, Dave just assumes that means he’s not particularly exceptional at whatever it is he’s currently doing—even if that may not be the case.

- the attachment issues and emotional detachment of his family are one of the main reasons for his snarky self-aware yet also lack of self-awareness (and, at times, rude) personality; I want to say it's like a shield--the snarkiness, I mean--but it's also basically an ingrained habit.

- doesn't like being called David. his father (and his mother, oftentimes) tend to call him that, and hearing the name reminds him of them and the expectations and pressure and everything he cannot be. He much prefers Dave.

#i do have names for his siblings that I'll add if I feel like it (and if this is well-received) #oh what the heck jaydha gabriel and viola are their names lmao #I think...that might be subject to change but I like them so far #im 10k words into writing a skylett (with a side of dashawn) oneshot when I decided it's high-time to jot down my notes for this guy lmao #the random things I decide to do instead of being productive and finishing a oneshot smh #td dave #total drama #kit speaks #noahtally-famous #kit stuff #td #tdpi #total drama pahkitew island #this is just a silly little thing I wanted to post bc I love dissecting dave like hello this guy's mind?? def worth looking through

[fangirlsovertoomanythings]

I've been having a massive Goemon brainrot, and you can feel free to ignore me because this one is going to be 100% self-indulgent: I think he should be half-brazilian because I am brazilian and I said so

(I actually do have reasons why it would genuinely be interesting other than my own amusement, alright, I'll talk about them)

For context as to why I even began to think about it, we do an anual celebration of Japanese immigration due to the intensive flow in which it happened and how it affected brazilian culture overtime. It is, after all, the country with the biggest numbers of Japanese people outside of Japan (though, to be fair, Brazil is often the country with the biggest x out of x_motherland) and you can see the influence of the immigratory flow in places such as Liberdade, a neighbourhood of São Paulo:

There's a lot to say about the Japanese immigration to Brazil over the years and how it affected the culture surrounding both countries, but there's also a second wave of immigration that does the exact opposite: brazilians with Japanese background going back to Japan

Although that second wave only happened in the 1980s with the economic crisis (if you want context, research about Plano Collor, it's absolutely ridiculous) and we can assume that most of what we would consider to be the "Lupin III very blurry timeline" happens sometime around the 1970s to 1980s, there still lies the possibility that one of the nikkeis decided to come back to Japan. Contact with the country returned after WWII ended and it was clear to many people that the economic situation in Brazil was significantly better, despite the setbacks of being in a land with a hard language to learn when your first language doesn't have most of the phonems needed to master it and the problem of racism (there's a reason why there are a bunch of European immigrant descendents here, and trust me, it ain't good)

Now, I will say that it is a highly improbable scenario, because most of immigrants had immigrated with their families and would therefore be more willing to stay. But it is not impossible.

All of that, in turn, leads me to Goemon and how I think making his mother a nikkei who returned to Japan would be an interesting way to showcase this complicated History both countries share with one another through a character. I think he'd enjoy these anual festival São Paulo does, and to wander around the streets of Liberdade to see a part of Japan existing elsewhere. To see that there are a lot of people in a foreign country with familiar names. Lastly, I think it'd be a multicultural experience to him, aswell, since this culture is not the only one deeply connected with brazilian History and part of the historical figures, tragedies, music, nursing rhymes, literature and food found wayyyy outside of what he's known also belongs to him

(And I just think it's funny to imagine Goemon looking at pastel de sushi - pastel was most likely created by Japanese immigrants, and for the hispanohablantes, NO, it is NOT a cake - and wondering whose idea it was to put salmon in there. I want him to feel that shame. And I want him to enjoy eating it)

(Also, I may find the way that he sounds in the PT-BR dub of The First hilarious. He literally sounds as if he's in a novel, while brazilians are informal and "eat vowels". He doesn't. Eu amo ele)

#i had to research so much to make this brainrot make sense is this anything #lupin iii #goemon ishikawa xiii #headcanon

[autumnalwalker]

Find the Word Tag

Thank you for the tag, @oh-no-another-idea. And for your tag as well, @writernopal.

My first set of words was sprint, sass, smile, shark, & son.

My second set of words was ornery, contemplative, rise, organ, & foliage.

Passing the tag to @druidx, @cljordan-imperium, @lovely-ashes09, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @winglesswriter, and an open tag for anyone else who wishes to participate.

Pick as many to find as you feel like from alright, not, advice, once, initially, think, sat, pass, bite, & under.

Sprint: Empty Names - 9 - Test Run

“Alright,” Road nods and then descends the ramp, “we’ll be out of here in no time.” Looking back over their shoulder a moment later they add “Oh, and grab yourself another coat and a hot drink from the supplies, you’re freezing.”

Not ten seconds later the loudest rumble from the dragon yet begins, extends too long, and then crescendos into a boom with a pillar of flame erupting from one of the holes that Cabetha’s crew had cut open.

Once the shuddering dragon and the water around it finally settle there’s a moment of silence.  Road, still steady on their feet, looks back at Eris with a reassuring smile on their face.

“Just one more trip, we’ve got this.”

“Um, guys… Sullivan’s feed just cut out.”

Road immediately breaks into a sprint in the direction of the grounded ship.

Sass: The Archivist's Journal, Day 37

Not too long after the crowd started to disperse, the first of the witnesses arrived and I took their commentary for the official record.  And then a little while later, the second, and then the third.  That third happened to be Cass, and her mother, Antigone, to whom I finally had the opportunity to introduce myself.  If there’s one word that comes to mind in describing her it’s “forceful”.  Not so much in the sense of forcing her will on others as having a strong sense of purpose and strength behind every word and action.  The sort of woman who can run a household of fourteen and bring all her children into line with a word and whose hands and arms bore the calluses and muscles of a lifetime working the land.  At any rate, Cass’s usual level of smug sass was toned down in her presence.

Still, not a hard or joyless matron either.  She seemed genuinely proud of Cass’s assistance in transcribing race witness commentary and laughed heartily when old Pat started reminiscing about a similar contest between siblings back in his day that ended with all parties involved publicly making fools of themselves in an incident involving an impromptu makeshift catapult and a net full of fish.

Smile: Empty Names - 11 - Afterparty

“My advice, drop the speeches.  You’ve always done better with the more de facto leadership of being the one to step up and take responsibility for getting things moving than as a formal role.”

“I’ll take your word on that.  Heh.  It’s not like I’ve been able to learn from experience.”

Sullivan nearly drops the apple.  Did they just make a self-deprecating joke about that?  Oh, no no no no, changing the topic right now.

“But as I was saying,” he resumes without a trace of fear, “the kids have potential.”

“I’d hardly call Eris and Lacuna ‘kids,’ and barely Ashan.”

“Oh please, you and I are both older than the three of them put together and I married a woman with anecdotes older than the country we do most of our work in these days.  They’re kids.”

His friend freezes for half a second, awful recognition flickering across their face.  They open their mouth to speak but the moment passes, their expression returns to an easy casual smile, and whatever they were about to say is replaced by “Do go on then.  You almost never speak well of anyone, so this should be good.”

That was a close one.  Sullivan curses himself for bringing up their age.  Is he really that out of practice from so short a time apart?  He continues on as if he noticed nothing.

Shark Lamprey: Empty Names - 9 - Test Run

Once up close she pulls out her own flashlight for a better look and realizes that the ‘tendril’ has fins and eyes.  Prodding the creature with the flashlight gets a slight wiggle but no obviously aggravated response.  She runs the tip of the flashlight slowly up the creature’s side, lifting one of the side fins and unfolding it to reveal a structure reminiscent of a wing.  Giant amphibious flying lampreys.  Because why not?  Just one more thing to make the ocean even worse.  

Son: The Archivist's Journal, Day 270

We were initially greeted by a dark-haired boy around Cass’s age who spotted us as he happened to be stepping out the door of the workshop when we approached.  Endymion, I learned his name to be.  As much as I’ve been referring to a singular glassmaker, in truth it’s a family affair.  The boy had been expecting his mother, Kamea, to be on her way back with the kelp for the flux and was just heading out to help her carry that when we arrived.  After a brief explanation of what we were here for he showed us inside where his father, Diomedes, was working.  Further introductions were made (although they’d all met Vernon before), and Endymion was sent back on his way, leaving us with the glassmaker.  Well, the one who melts down and shapes the glass.  It appears that Kamea does most of the gathering of raw materials as well as working with her husband to turn said raw materials into glass.  Meanwhile, their son is an apprentice of sorts to both of them.

Diomedes himself is a surprisingly friendly sort for someone who rarely interacts with anyone outside his family.  Or perhaps our visit was enough of a novelty in and of itself to be exciting.  Friendly because of his hermitage rather than in spite of it, so to speak.  At any rate, he was happy to assist with our various requests and his hospitality extended to an unprompted invitation for a tour of his workshop.  Of course I accepted.

Ornery Grump: The Archivist's Journal, Day 57

I think what this is really coming down to is that I need to stop putting off talking to Pat and Theo about this.  Or meeting Theo at all for that matter.  Lin and Cass attempted to give me some encouragement about that, but Lin’s description of Theo as “a grump perpetually in a bad mood” while also being someone all the guards look up to for being one of them longer than anyone except maybe Pat has been alive was not exactly comforting.

Contemplative Contemplation: The Archivist's Journal, Day 39

As I sat there in peaceful contemplation looking down over the Village, I almost didn’t hear Lin arrive.

As I turned to see who was approaching she was already starting to turn around to leave.  When she realized I’d seen her she started stammering an apology for bothering me, but I told her it was fine and patted the empty space on the pillar next to me.  She gave a one word “Thanks” as a reply and took a seat with her back to mine.

We sat in silence like that for a while until I heard a quiet sniffling behind me and realized that Lin was crying.  I turned around, thinking I should do something to comfort her, yet finding myself unable to initiate physical contact or form words that didn’t sound insincere or condescending to my own mind.  So instead I simply asked if she wanted to talk about it.

She said no.  Then she said yes.  Then she said she wasn’t sure how.

I said that was fine, and that I’d be here if she figures it out.

A few minutes later the sound of tears ceased and I felt a weight against my back as she was now leaning back on me.

I asked if she was feeling better.

She said she was, a little.

I shifted my posture until we reached an equilibrium of back-to-back resting support.

That’s how we were when we heard a sneeze and looked up to see a somewhat abashed Vernon, out of uniform for once, apologizing for interrupting and saying he’d be on his way.  We chuckled and offered him a seat on our stone stump.  He accepted.

Rise: The Archivist's Journal, Day 271

Once more the princess passes from light to dark.  She hears what comes next before she sees it.  A great grinding of gears and ticking of clockwork.  She emerges onto a precipice overlooking a deep shaft filled with the inner workings of a mechanism whose purpose she can’t even guess at.  Cogs turn, pendulums swing, pistons rise and fall.  The moon is nowhere to be seen, but an ever-shifting array of mirrors carries its light to this place as faithfully as the princes carries the sword’s darkness.  And there!  Practically spotlit far down on the opposite wall is an opening.  The path onwards.

This princess grins.  Now this was a challenge she was prepared for.

Organ: The Archivist's Journal, Day 60

As she got closer, I realized she was carrying a fish in her mouth.  Once she got in shallow enough water to stand up she threw a second fish at me that I failed spectacularly to catch, getting hit in the chest with it, flinching, flailing to catch it as it bounced off and fell, managing to sort of get it between my forearms and elbows, and then freaking out and dropping it at the sensation of wet fish scales on my skin.

As I gingerly picked the fallen fish up off the stony ground with two fingers, I heard a soft snort that was probably the closest to a laugh I’ve heard out of Maiko to date.  As to the fish itself, there was a visible bite mark near its neck.  Not sure if that was how she killed it, a result of carrying it in her mouth while catching the other fish, or both.  

Still keeping my eyes on the fish, trying to figure out what to do with it, I thanked Maiko for it.  I heard an “uh huh” of acknowledgement, followed by a terrible squelching and cracking noise.  I snapped my head up to see Maiko biting into her fish and beginning to devour it raw, organs, bones, and all.

Foliage: The Archivist's Journal, Day 86

Sitting under a tree by the beach as I write this.  The walk (and swim, I couldn’t help myself, but at least I brought a change of clothes along with me this time) helped, I think.  So many other sounds out here to take your attention if you listen for them.  Other rhythms.  Birdsong, frogsong, insectsong, wavesong, song of wind blowing through foliage (windsong?  leafsong?).  Okay, now I’m just tacking “song” onto the end of anything that makes noise.  Not sure if that’s silly or pretentious.  Maybe a bit of both?  Then again, what’s a “song” other than a rhythmic repeating pattern of sounds that carries a message and evokes an emotion?  Okay, maybe the wind and waves aren’t carrying messages seeing as there’s no life or will behind them, but they do incite emotion.  And animals certainly have meaning and signals behind their cries, even if what we get out of them is totally divorced from their actual meaning.

But I’m rambling on faux-philosophical tangents again.  Not really any more meaning to those than the aforementioned ocean noises, but writing them down calms me in the same way as listening to the waves, so I suppose they’re alike in that way.  Meaningless but comforting.  And I’m doing it again…

Point is, it’s hard to obsessively fixate on one particular rhythm that’s been stuck in your head when there’s so much else around out here.  I’m pretty sure I made the right choice not going into the Village today.  The silence in the archive would have been just awful.

#find the word tag #manuscript search tag #tag game #writing tag games #writeblr #my writing #The Archivist's Journal #Empty Names

[rhaenyras]

Two years ago, my brother passed away from an opioid overdose. My husband, our 4-years-old son, and I are living with my parents. I am the main breadwinner. I have tried to support my parents through their grief, as well as financially supporting them. I feel the more I do, the more they expect of me; they are never satisfied with my efforts. It has made old childhood wounds of being unheard, unseen, unvalued and the pressure to be a good girl return to the surface. They also blame me for a lot of what happened to my brother and say things like: “We helped you more than him and you are ungrateful.”

My husband has gone from being a kind, caring man to an angry one. He tells me that he never loved me. I am about to move to Singapore in two weeks, with my son for my job, and my husband pulled out at the last minute. I am dealing with bereavement, divorce, a new country, and a new job all at the same time.

I fear the impact all this is having on my son. He’s my priority, yet I find myself losing patience and shouting at him. My relationship with my parents has descended into toxicity, and my marriage is over. Yet I still try to rebuild both. What would you do ?

i don't think i would handle the staggering load of responsibilities and hardships better than you are doing right now, to be quite honest. so there's no use in asking me what i would do, because i can assure you that i wouldn't be doing anything more than what you are already doing, if anything much less. you're a force of nature, I genuinely believe that, and i hope you know that too and never forget, even if your parents and your husband work very hard to let you believe otherwise. heaven knows i haven't had an easy comfortable life myself, but the day i presume to teach someone like you anything at all hasn't come yet.

in any case, here's the only advice i feel confident enough to give you: stop trying to build back what's obviously not there anymore. stop trying to piece back together a broken thing. I know all you do is for the sake of your son and not because you necessarily want your parents or your husband back, but you must understand that your son doesn't need those people in his life, no more than you do. you need to let them go and focus solely on building a better relationship with your son, because it's literally just you and him out there. besides, if you cut off the other anxiety triggers in your life, you'll have more energy and patience to lavish onto him alone. and he's the only one deserving of those. but you only have so much energy and patience to bestow, that's why im saying you should stop wasting it on undeserving people who only know how to disappoint you and criticize you. i know that raising a son as a single breadwinning mother in a foreign country won't be easy, far from it, but your parents and your husband couldn't have made it any easier for you. quite the opposite, if anything, they could be trusted to drain you, pester you and estrange you from your son. i don't think you'll regret cutting them off and focusing all you have to give on your son and yourself. starting off from scratch on your own in a new country is as challenging as it is full of possibilities for the future.

#please be strong. i know you are already. but dont look back either #ask #anon #anonymous

[butwhatifidothis]

So if it is MEANT to be a villain route...Why are the villanous actions NEVER ADDRESSED by ANY of the characters outside of "Huh. I wonder if there was a better way to do this."

Why did they have Rhea go insane and torch a city? Why make potray Rhea as a villain when you could potray her as the hero whos genuinely trying to do good? Why have a majority of the characters still be able to be recruited regardless of if it makes sense? Why have the ending narration mostly be possible? WHY have Edelgard succeed and somehow turn her tyranny into a society that "ensures a free and independent society fot all."

If it's REALLY a villain route, why is there not a single character ending mentioning things like rebellions and conflict? Hell, the ending narration shows not a hint of villainy and potrays its ending as heroic.

"Embracing her newfound power, Edelgard could at last set about destroying Fódlan's entrenched system of nobility and rebuild a world free from the tyranny of Crests and status."

Again, if it was TRULY meant to be the villain route, it would have been POTRAYED as such. Instead of a villain route, we got "A route where one of the villains is made the protagonist and her views and villainous actions are never questioned OR addressed and outside of the conquest and starting the war, everyone is mostly happy."

Alright so this is going to seem like a nonserious answer, but I'm 100% serious when posting this image as part of a genuine answer to this question:

On CF, your actions are never addressed because of ignorance. On the surface, your actions seem like they've helped Fodlan, but as soon as the player looks any deeper it starts to become evident that something isn't right.

If Edelgard made a free and independent society for all, why are the people spied on in Hubert's ending with Dorothea? Why are rebellions secretly being put down in his ending with Shamir? That's not free, in a general sense or from specifically tyranny. That's a direct contradiction from two of the characters that can only be played on CF, and this is only found on CF.

Rhea is portrayed as a villain because she is Nabatean, and Edelgard hates Nabateans, and you are playing a route that emphasizes her ideals - which include wiping out all of the inhuman, bestial, vile, cruel Nabateans that have been plaguing humanity’s world. Rhea goes insane on CF because unlike all of the other routes, where the player and the lord never go out of their way to trample and spit on their enemies' trauma, that's what you are doing the entire time you play CF to Rhea - for months once Byleth returns, and that’s being extremely generous and not counting the entire war. You help drive Rhea and the other Nabateans away from their homes when taking over Garreg Mach - like Nemesis did to Rhea after the Red Canyon Massacre! You're helping someone try to kill off the rest of her people - like Nemesis did at Zanado! You're trying to kill Rhea with the Sword of the Creator, her mother's mutilated corpse - like Nemesis did! You're doing so with the descendent of Wilheim - spitting on the legacy of the one human Rhea could trust during the War of Heroes! You're literally recreating the single worst moment of Rhea's life, all so that you can help the one who views her as less than human.

Portraying Rhea as "the hero who's genuinely trying to do good" goes against Edelgard's viewpoint of all Nabateans being evil, and you're never meant to question Edelgard or make her change her beliefs. You as the player are actively discouraged from talking back to Edelgard, as she will noticeably get upset whenever you do - many times you will even lose support points with her, and this is especially bad for specifically Edelgard because you have to get to a certain support level with her to enter her route, with you having less chapters to do so because she won't talk to you until after Byleth achieves the Sword of the Creator in Chapter 4.

Look at how Rhea, Dimitri, and Claude are portrayed on CF. Rhea and Dimitri are demonized, while Claude is given some leeway from Edelgard. Now notice who of the three of them always speak their minds over Edelgard's villainy to her face, and which of the three of them bends to Edelgard's view of them as the bad guy. Dimitri and Rhea never allow themselves to bend to Edelgard - they call her out and call her actions evil. Claude, on the other hand, will remove himself from Fodlan and then afterwards make himself out to be a bad guy whom Edelgard managed to take down. He puffs up her ego, and he gets to live, while the two that don't must die. Edelgard is the one always out for the kill, and only by submitting to her is anyone allowed to live - which, I don’t think needs to be said, isn’t very heroic of her.

I've had my fair share of complaints over the characters that can be recruited over to CF, but even with those complaints... look at how those characters behave on CF. None of them are Felix levels of negative character development, but they all act noticeably worse on CF vs how they are on the other routes. To name some notable examples: Ignatz goes from wanting to paint Garreg Mach as it stood five years before to preserve its beauty to wanting to paint the violent downfall of the Alliance, Lysithea wants to abandon House Ordelia, which is in direct contrast to her core character motivation, Ingrid is willing to throw away her lifelong dream of being a knight of Faerghus, which she herself says is her spitting on her dead betrothed’s dreams, Leonie works with Jeralt’s killers, etc. etc.. And mind, CF is the route that locks out the most units - there's the obvious ones like Dedue and Gilbert who were already route exclusive, but then there's Seteth and Flayn, Catherine, Cyril, and Hilda. CF is the only route to have even non-exclusive units be completely unavailable no matter what.

Edelgard doesn't make a society that is "free," like I said above - having a secret police monitor the people's actions, or is ready to put down anyone who tries to rise up against her, is literally the opposite of free. Edelgard can and will ban plays she doesn't like - not free. Edelgard only allows state-sanctioned religion, if she does allow it - not free.

CF is a route that wants to make the player believe the lie that you're not the villain, because you are playing from the perspective of someone who herself doesn't think she's the villain, but like. Look at what you're doing. You're invading two countries for the express, explicit purpose of taking them over and making them your own. You're working with someone who's been trying to reunite Fodlan back under Adrestia as early as the prologue when she tried to have Dimitri and Claude assassinated. You're helping TWS. Your Imperial presence makes Church people flee - which, given that Edelgard wants Rhea and those involved with the Church dead, I don't blame them. You're working with someone who is starving her people so that she can carry on with her war.

CF lies to the player - Edelgard lies, constantly. She says she's willing to let Rhea live, but literally the scene before she says she seeks to fuckin' Exodia Rhea. She lies about Arianrhod. She lies - or is flat-out wrong, which isn't much better - about the Church hoarding wealth and about the Church splitting up the Empire. She lies about not knowing about TWS pre-ts. She helps spread the lie of Duscur being the ones who killed Lambert. She lied about not knowing where Flayn was when she was kidnapped. She lies to her people by making them believe she’s making the orders during the war, not Byleth. There's a student who doubts all of what Edelgard says right before the timeskip happens and who isn't sure about his decision to stay, and then there’s a man who calls Edelgard “a tricksy one” on the last explore section for lying about attacking the Kingdom capitol. She’s wrong about the history of Nemesis and Seiros, calling Nemesis killing all of Rhea’s family a “simple dispute.” She lies to her people about an entire war against a group who just a little bit ago were her allies. Lies and ignorance are staple points to CF as a route, it’s baked into it, so the idea of the CF going “oh no you totally are the good guys” literally as the city burns down around the players doesn’t come from nowhere.

And like... the ending narration “shows not a hint of villainy?” Um.

Her stepping on the flags of the Alliance and Church? Her recreating a painting of Napoleon - that little known imperialist - down to the hand of justice? Her denouncing gods constantly and then being ushered in by a statue with heavy resemblance to Nike, Goddess of victory? Hubert plotting away from the sight of the rejoicing people? Yeah, there’s a lot of hints to villainy.

Again, CF isn’t “portrayed” as a villain route because it’s you falling for the lies of Edelgard. You have a wool over your eyes. You accept everything Edelgard says as fact, even when she actively contradicts herself - sometimes as radically as in back-to-back scenes. You view yourself as a savior to humanity, even when you plunge it into darkness. You don’t think you’re the villain, so your actions aren’t going to be put in an explicitly villainous light - at least, not by anyone on your side.

This post showcases the difference between non-recruited characters fighting non-CF!Byleth vs CF!Byleth. Characters are mostly saddened by having to fight Byleth in the former, while they are mostly betrayed on CF. Byleth is very clearly seen as being wrong for having sided with Edelgard on CF by the non-recruited characters - Edelgard’s actions may not be directly criticized (save for by Dimitri and a few others), but it makes no sense for these characters to be this shocked and betrayed by Byleth siding with her if her actions were so good. Leonie deadass calls you a traitor to Jeralt, Ingrid says that you are not fit to rule Fodlan specifically for siding with Edelgard and the Empire after all she and they have done, and Dimitri questions you as to why you chose Edelgard and her “savage, bloody path,” just to name a few notable examples. You, as the player, are being criticized for siding with Edelgard. You say that the villainous actions are “NEVER ADDRESSED by ANY of the characters,” but what else are these reactions but characters addressing your villainous actions?

And like... “a route where one of the villains is the protagonist” bro that’s a villain route. Like. I’m not trying to be mean, but I am genuinely confused as to what you were trying to get at here.

Like. In a vacuum? I might can get the idea of CF not being a villain route a little better, were it the only route available (though even that is a very big stretch). But you have three whole other routes where there’s no conquest, there’s no working with TWS, there’s no using Demonic Beasts, there’s no killing/exiling the remaining (immediately known) Nabateans, there’s no continuous and long-standing lies that never get outed, the lords never stay flat out wrong about the events of the game, non-recruited characters aren’t shooting Byleth up the ass with accusations of being a traitorous lemming who’d follow Edelgard off a cliff... and they achieve peace. Those endings, with Dimitri Claude and “Rhea” (SS ain’t really her route even though it should’ve been but ye), lack the following in any of their endings:

Censorship

Spying on the people

Constantly putting down rebels in secret

State-sanctioned religion

(mind, this last one is in direct contradiction to CF’s ending narration that says that Church is destroyed)

None of this happens on AM, VW, and SS. They all have peaceful endings. They all have Fodlan see the light of dawn, and that is never contradicted in their endings. CF is the only route to have all of these things happen in it - I think that’s enough for it to be considered a villain route lol

#ask #anon #anti edelgard #Anti-edelgard #Edelgard discourse #Edelgard critical #just to be safe #Again really hope I don't come across badly and I'm sorry if I do! #like. I do see where you're coming from! A lot of times villain routes acknowledge you to be the big bad meanie bobeenie! #at least more directly than CF does - because CF does! Through the non-recrutied characters and through the subtext! #sure you can miss out on the former if you manage to recruit everyone but the latter is always present! #Fodlan is in a noticeably worse state in CF than on the other routes and you are actively questioned as to why you joined [lord's] side #by some of the characters you CAN'T recruit (Dimitri; Catherine) #which doesn't happen on the other routes - the other character just wish that Byleth chose them or don't want to fight Byleth #plus there's all of the actions you commit/are complicit in on CF vs the other routes #it just isn't flat out in your face with it because like... Edelgard doesn't view herself as the villain. A Byleth who chose to walk with #her doesn't view her as the villain - even while knowing all oft he heinous shit she's been a part of #so if Edelgard doesn't view herself as the villain and this Byleth doesn't view her as the villain and everyone trusts Byleth's word #who on your side is going to call you out? #hope I'm making sense!

[descendants-brat]

How I feel about Mal Bertha and her character PART 1

 This is not a Mal bertha Biography and it is biased in the sense that I don’t like her at all. Read with caution.

Descendants 2 was actually the first movie of the trilogy that I had watched. My little sister was watching it and I happened to be passing by and sat to watch it with her when it caught my eye. 2017 me had a completely different opinion of Mal bertha than today not because I was younger but simply because D3 hadn’t come out yet and I hadn’t watched the first movie or even knew there was books. I can’t stand Mal bertha, not even the D1 version of her and that’s the one even Mal antis love. I didn’t like her in the first movie but it was more of a “I wouldn’t be friends with her.” I didn’t think that she was unforgiveable and that it was impossible to give her a second chance. She made her own bad choices but she expressed genuine regret for them and was only 16. Despite me, loathing Mal’s existence I related to her in sense that it’s scary wanting to change but you don’t know whether or not your actions have caused too much damage. 

In D2 watching it as a stand alone I saw a girl wanting something other than the ‘happily ever after’ and deciding she would go for what would make her happy when she went back to isle. I was desperately hoping that after the ‘It’s going down’ scene that she would go back to the isle and not choose to stay somewhere she wanted to leave. But we know how that went and the ending left me bitter and sad not for her, but for Uma. She began to leave a bitter taste in my mouth when she broke up with Ben and came back and just expected him to get back together with her. I’m going to go around every version of her character.

PRE D1

She was a dick. That’s the simplest way I can put it. I don’t like even acknowledging pre d1 Mal because it leaves me with this very negative view of her character that I don’t think was necessary. I feel like this is a big fuck up, wanting to have Mal be her ‘evilest’ before coming to Auradon. I understand the reason why they wanted to show her growth and change throughout the series. But after looking at some real life scenarios with a similar Mal situation it made me look at it differently. Imagine this: someone who severely bullied you and harassed you and everyone around getting to go to a new place and get the best treatment there, then she’s congratulated with becoming queen of that land and not only that she then decides she’s going to be queen of the place she was bullying and harassing people at without ever properly apologizing. This happens in real life and these people get exposed which is why I don’t like it. It would be different if Mal actual grew throughout the series but it was real just her gaining more power and the scenery changing from Pre D1-D3. She also continued to make the same type of ‘mistakes’ with no actual direct consequences all she had to do was cry and they forgave her. She would be okay if it Descendants was a stand alone movie. But knowing the type of life she would get to live after all of this behavior puts me off from reading it. It would also be different if Mal lived a simple life in Auradon (Aka not trying to take control by dating the king and then stepping all over said king) She got more than what she deserved to have. In my opinion she did deserve the chance at all better life just like all the other kids who didn’t commit any crimes to be locked up. But in the eyes of people she victimized she wouldn’t deserve to be Queen become royalty, live in castles and get gifted with limos and bikes. 

D1

 D1 is the version of Mal everyone generally likes however, like I stated before I didn’t like her even then. At the start we see someone who is clearly trying to please her mother so if her mother wants bad behavior she gives her that. Throughout the main plot she did things of her own accord that she can’t use her mom as an excuse for. There’s a couple different things but a lot of them had to do with Ben and I’m making a whole post on how Ben was treated like shit throughout the franchise so that will be addressed then and not in this post. However for a reference she drugged him with a spelled cookie into falling in love with her for the wand. He wasn’t even willing to eat the cookie at first but she guilt tripped him into eating it. We could brush this off as her doing whatever she needed to do to get to the crown but to me she took advantage of the situation by actually going on dates with him. He was already spelled and willing to listen to whatever she wanted so besides for her own personal interest why would she go on the dates? (Granted a 16 year old wanting to get cute and have a nice date with a nice boy is not a fault or wrong in any way the fault here is all of this was happening when Ben was not in his right state of mind until the spell washed off.) Her taking advantage of Jane’s insecurities was not cool either and I’m interested in what ways she would’ve tried to use Jane if it was easier to get to the wand through her. Since her main crime in my opinion was Ben and since he’ll have his own essay post I’ll focus on Audrey here.

Her disrespect to Audrey

It was unnecessary, she had no reason to have had Audrey’s name in her mouth as much as she did D1. It would make more sense for Mal to like Audrey’s sassy boldness to me not shit talk her every chance she got. At the start they had a small passive aggressive conversation that could’ve just been left at that because technically they burred the hatchet between the two families. It was a “hey I don’t fuck with you, you don’t fuck with me” type of a situation that could’ve grown civil. However, throughout the movie in comparison to Audrey who really just had a problem with Mal’s mother until she spelled ben then it became direct problems with each other. Mal was continuously talking shit about Audrey as if Audrey was the one who fucked with her family. This time her upbringing can be referenced, on the Isle she most likely was allowed to openly hate things and Audrey was most likely raised to at least pretend to be polite. But from the Audrey we’ve seen she clearly doesn’t care about holding her tongue she’s straightforward with how she feels and she didn’t have a problem with Mal she had a problem with her mother. The only time she talked about Mal directly was about the hair spells which she ended up being right about (Mal’s addictive reliance on magic in D2 and Jane at the end of D1).  After completely ignoring Audrey’s feelings and literally stole her boyfriend (not even on the the you can’t steal a loyal man type of shit she literally stole him he wasn’t even allowed to consent to it.) She later in Audrey’s Diary multiple times tries to reason this with she never meant to directly hurt Audrey and that she didn’t really want Ben she just wanted the wand etc etc. The evidence doesn’t back this up Mal, you’ve made your disdain for Audrey clear and talked shit about her to Evie right after you spelled Ben the did I mention bs claiming “Chad will see her horrible personally” as if you knew her personally and that Chad didn’t grow up with her. Mal can say she didn’t mean to hurt Audrey but she clearly didn’t mind that she did.

 I’m going to make a whole separate on Audrey and how I do think she gets a lot of slack because people can relate to her, but also how her treatment in comparison to Mal’s is unfair. 

 I did think she deserved a chance to show remorse for her behavior (spoiler: she didnt) Again, I like to look at things from the pov of other characters for things like this. If I was an Auradon kid who was friends with Mal and ended up finding out she was using me and plotting to take over and destroy the place I lived with/for her mother but changed her mind last minute. I would see her as forgivable I just wouldn’t want her around me. In other words I would expect her to start her own new life, not continue trying to live the one where she was plotting without even actually apologizing to people. AU: After descendants instead of continuing to date Ben she breaks it off and goes to an Art school frequently coming back to visit Auradon and after high school she goes on a quest (with the C4 of course) exploring all kinds of different kingdoms and countries because she was locked up on the isle her whole life. In the future she possibly returns to Auardon and even could get back together with Ben with a proper start.

D2

The first Descendants Movie I ever saw so it holds a special place with me and I actually rooted for Mal the first time I watched it. I sat in to watch at the argument scene and knowing all of the plots now and after rewatching  it my opinion has change greatly. We see a blonde and very stressed Mal who’s dealing with the pressures of becoming a royal in order to secure her place with Ben. I do feel bad for Mal when she was talking to Evie, she was trying to reach out to her friend about her situation and was basically told to stop talking about it. I understand Evie’s feelings of wanting to leave the past behind but I can also understand Mal feeling like she’s cornered and can’t even talk to her best friend. I can also understand her feelings of ending up overwhelmed with her decisions from going to somebody who did whatever whenever to becoming a royal with duties I get the pressure. If Mal decided that wasn’t the life she wanted to live and went back to the isle where she felt more comfortable I don��t see anything wrong with that. She wasn’t required to stay in Auradon if she felt like she was unhappy there. That says a little something about Auradon to me if somebody would rather live where they ate rotten food than live there.  My sympathy for Mal stops there because everything else was a result of her own actions and things she brought onto herself.

1. The royal situation

Let’s get one thing clear nobody was forcing Mal to hand sign up for the prime and proper royal life. She did that herself.

Nobody told her that she had to dye her hair blonde and have a complete wardrobe change, she did.

Nobody said she even had to continue the terrible relationship she had with Ben and go straight into being a royal in order to basically become Ben’s wifey, she did.

She’s saying all of these people are expecting things of her when 6 months ago she was stealing candy from babies when she was the one who let people have these expectations. She decided to take up the role herself because that was what she wanted. Let’s be honest with how it happened Mal would not live in Auradon if she had to be a regular citizen she wanted to be in control of everybody and to have power because that how she always lived. However once she realized that nobody was just about to hand her this power just for being with Ben unlike with her Mom  (getting to rule the isle just because she was her daughter and not because she actually worked her way up there) and that she actually had duties and work to fulfill if she wanted to be the boss. She let her pride get in the way by feeling she had to prove she could last with Ben and become an Auradon girl and ended up miserable and blaming Ben for  something she decided to do herself.

She then had the responsibility to fulfill all of those duties and she was struggling unlike anybody else who would’ve had to abide by the “don’t use magic” quote on quote rule she decided to use Magic after claiming she’d give it up and was still a hot ass mess. She can’t even use the excuse that was to help her with her lady in training because she was using it to not be late to class and later to try and manipulate Ben.  @ishiphumasohard made a good response on why it was unfair for Mal to use magic as her ‘right’ because at what point would it be unfair to other kids? While all the other kids have to show up on time to school Mal gets to use magic to turn back time instead of just being on time. If other kids studied all night for a test Mal can use a speed reading spell. If there was a cooking contest Mal can spell her way into a feast while the others would have to the actual labor. You get the point, because magic is not universally used by everyone in Auradon and it’s an unspoken rule that it’s not to be used then she should have followed this rule.

I will say the girl was stressed and was feeling alone, I already gave my sympathies for that.

The magic situation really hit the fan when she felt comfortable enough to spell the boyfriend who had already put enough trust in her to continue their relationship that started with her drugging him for her own benefit. Compared to her Ben did seem to be taking it easy but maybe like her, he didn’t want to show it. It seems Ben and Mal had a sort of pack to work hard together to become ‘the king and queen’ of Auradon they were supposed to be in it together. In my opinion it would make more sense for Ben to be hiding things from Mal than the other way around due to the nature of their shitty relationship. But that’s just not how it went down and after Mal tries to spell Ben into not finding her spellbook he gets RIGHTFULLY ANGRY. That entire scene was her fault, she could’ve explained herself and why she was using magic and that she was having a hard time but she once again decides to take advantage of Ben’s trust. Then proceeds to make sure she ends the  fight with her being the victim. So much so that the entire fact that she spelled Ben was never brought up again.

Going back to the isle 

She then decides to go back to the isle, if this was really her decision I wouldn’t mind it. There’s nothing wrong with her liking the isle better than Auradon if that’s where she felt at home. The problem was she was clearly emotional and let’s be honest, if she had called all of her friends together and actually broke up with Ben and told them this was her decision to go back to the isle before leaving they MIGHT (hard might) not have ran after her like they did. Not only that the duties that we were speaking of earlier, she didn’t formally pull out of anything which is why it irked me when she was so irritated that they came back for her.

Some people actually didn’t like her attitude as soon as she got back on the isle because she expected to run it. That wasn’t surprising to me honestly, because for her whole life that’s how it was, only person she was scared of was her mother. She quickly realized however now that her mom isn’t around and in lizard form nobody was scared of her. Most unrealistic part of D2 was how Mal didn’t get jumped as soon as people realized she got back. Like I said Isle Mal was a straight dickhead and had too many enemies to be walking around like she was. 

Another point was when she got her hair dyed by dizzy, the shop wasn’t open, she saw this, ignored it and went in anyway. Not even because her and Dizzy were tight like that she just expected her to do what she wanted (get the pattern with Mal here?)

 Skipping her scene with harry because it did nothing to the plot.

The rest of the C4 and Ben come to get Mal back as expected and she acts all surprised and angry. Ben apologizes to her and instead of apologizing for what she did and then explaining that she doesn’t want to go back to Auradon and be a lady of the court. She continues the narrative that Ben wanted her to change and that she’s not good for Auradon so she’s going to stay on the isle. What’s the difference between the two? The first one is her taking responsibility of her actions and deciding for herself that that’s not the life she wants. While the other is acknowledging none of the blame and deciding to run away not because that’s not what she really wants but because everyone will turn on her so she has to run first. It painted a narrative that nothing of this was her own doing while at the same time making it seem like she is doing the right thing by backing away which in hindsight probably was the better decision. Mal’s feelings weren’t the problem I understand them, she thinks she won’t be accepted as herself so she wants to leave before they can kick her out but that’s not what caused her to leave and she knows it. You got caught doing something shitty and instead of apologizing you ran away.

After Ben gets kidnapped she lectures the C4, again she does have some blame in this. With the way the fight ended it made it look like Ben was in the wrong so he was going to try and apologize regardless if they brought him or not. The rest of them came to keep him safe and as her gang members come back for her. Was this not something she considered after she calmed herself down? Ben honestly had no reason to be directly on the isle unprotected besides to sneak and apologize to you so are you really going to just blame the C4 for bringing him there and getting him captured?

Then when Uma, who has him captured plans a meeting she antagonizes her like that’s what is best for Ben at the time. Even in the mist of Ben being in danger she thought it was a good idea to try and piss off the person holding him captive. If you don’t remember what she did she called her shrimpy, insulted the smell of the restaurant and said she never thought of Uma while implying that Uma always had her on her mind for no reason. None of that was necessary to ask what Uma’s conditions were to give Ben back she just couldn’t help herself. 

She didn’t care about Dizzy

Who had just performed a task for her and right after she paid her got robbed and had the place trashed just for Mal to say she’ll be alright. This should’ve been foreshadowing at the very least that she wasn’t ready to be making decisions for other people’s lives because besides her own and her friends she didn’t care for many especially those on the isle.

It’s going down

Even though it was in the song and not directly her words again antagonizing the person who has Ben held captive and threatening his life, insulting them is stupid. This entire scene is messy and they shouldn’t even had been able to win a fight against pirates outnumbered. When has Mal ever picked up a sword???

Car ride Back

She gets mad when Ben has sympathy/ shows understanding for Uma. She somehow realizes that it’s wrong Uma kidnapped him but was comfortable spelling him without a second thought. In my opinion she thought she had some type of ownership over Ben she could do what she wanted to him and if somebody else did it was wrong. (Even though this can be applied to what she did in D1, I’m only talking about D2 because most people agree she showed regret for her actions in D1) When he calls her out on her hypocrisy she goes mute and does that thing, of letting her mouth hang opened whenever she gets called out on her shit.

END OF PART 1

I was going to make this one long post but I’ve been putting this off long enough so here is part 1, no idea when part 2 will be up. I do hope to have the Ben posts up before that.

#anti mal #anti mal bertha #anti bal #anti ben and mal #ben florian #ben descendants #descendants #disney descendants #audrey descendants #princess audrey #Audrey Rose #evie descendants #ben deserves better #uma descendants

[seasaltmemories]

Regret

Rating: T

Summary: When the nurse finished her tale, Celica promised herself that she would never become such a pitiable woman. [Arranged Marriage AU] [Trigger Warnings]

~

The first time Anthiese remembered meeting her father was when she was eleven.

A year after the villa was attacked, Sir Mycen sent a letter to Novis declaring all of Desaix collaborators jailed or executed. Since heirs were now in a sudden short supply, her father had decided it best for her to join him at Zofia Castle.

She had only started to allow herself to view the priory as a home the prior month; nevertheless, Anthiese followed the dark-hair mercenary back to the capital without complaint. With both a decade and the fire under her belt now, she didn’t feel like a child anymore. And because eleven was the oldest she had ever been, she thought that meant she must be ready to be an adult now.

For all her poise, though, it didn’t make that first night in one of the castle’s guest-rooms any easier. It was furnished with the same silks and mahoganies of the royal villa, and no matter how much she tried to reason with herself that such similarities were only natural, she still found herself dreaming that she was choking on ash. That morning she woke up convinced she was buried in the villa’s rubble and scrubbed her cheeks near raw.

Her nurse had scolded her once the episode passed and spent the rest of the morning brushing powder on her face. If she couldn’t act like an adult, then maybe she could at least try to present herself like one.

She hated the process, feeling like a porcelain doll being painted and brushed to perfection. But if someone ever took the time to ask her what she wanted, she didn’t know if she would have protested in the slightest. She suspected she wouldn’t have been able to explain at all what she expected from this journey. It was only the distance that memory provided that allowed her to give words to such a childish desire. That if she bore all her pain with grace and determination, somehow, someway she’d be rewarded.

And so, Earth Mother, she tried. She tried to hold her head high and approach the throne as if it was where she belonged.

The man who sat before had hair as red as hers. It shouldn’t have been all surprisingly, but Anthiese found herself clinging to detail all the same. She liked to think she had never needed him before in her life, but it was thrilling to imagine he might need her in return. So she went through whole ritual of curtsying and giving her most genuine respect.

When she lifted her head again, she found her father looking at her as if he was meeting a god. Trembling, he extended a swollen red hand.

“Liprica?” It was barely a murmur, but the stink of his wine-soaked breath still overwhelmed her. When he moved to cradle a curl of hers, she couldn’t help but recoil.

His eyes widened, as if coming out from a waking dream, and somehow she knew in that instant that he’d never look at her with that same reverence ever again.

It didn’t take long for him to dismiss Anthiese back to her chambers. Once there, the cool mask of maturity she had been weaving since she had received the missive fell apart. She found herself bawling like a newborn, kicking and screaming at any of the maids that tried to restrain her.

Then, like a flash of lightning, her nurse struck her across the cheek. The fear and pain that followed was so overwhelming, Anthiese went silent almost immediately.

“How dare you behave in such a selfish manner! What kind of daughter refuses her own father’s affections?!”

Something deep inside of her started to catalyze. She didn’t quite know what she was becoming, but she had the feeling she wasn’t quite Anthiese anymore.

“Who is Liprica?” It felt dangerous to ask, but the question fell from her lips before she could take it back.

The nurse furrowed her brow in pity. Surprisingly, she picked up the child and gathered her in her lap. In the last show of tenderness she could remember, the nurse recounted the story of the only woman the king had ever loved.

When she finished her tale, Celica promised herself that she would never become such a pitiable woman.

~

When Celica awoke in Mila’s cell, she felt that same sense of transformation pull at her limbs. While her memory and vision came back to her slowly but surely, some third, indescribable part of her seemed to leak out onto the ground. Like a cocoon cracked open before it could hatch into a butterfly, if she was supposed to become someone else again, she had no clue anymore on how to get there.

She liked to think it was courage or bravery that compelled her to stand, but that felt too optimistic a conjecture to make. Picking up Falchion and climbing past the torn cell bars seemed more muscle memory than anything deliberate. She didn’t know what could possibly be fueling her at this point. With each breath she swallowed, she tasted the ash that still lingered in the air.

Earth Mother...

She didn’t know if it was a prayer or a curse. As much as Celica rather forget it, the memory of Mila’s grasp had been burned into her memory. No matter how many times she went back to try and construct a different version of events, Mila’s claws seemed to tear into her mind each time.

You didn’t take imprisonment gracefully either...

Celica’s mind drifted back towards the Rigelian maid she burned. She must have seemed just as monstrous and terrifying as Mila in that moment. Guilt swirled inside Celica’s stomach like a storm, but she tried to channel it into something positive. If there was hope for her, then perhaps Mila might calm with time.

Are you sure you’re so above reproach?

Celica bit her lip and pressed forward into the darkness of the tunnels. Perhaps this whole underground was her cocoon. She wouldn’t be able to see what she’d become until she left.

~

It was dawn when Alm reemerged from his grief. Not because the pain had subsided or because he had somehow overcome it, but rather because he was simple too exhausted to sob any longer. All his pity and empathy had been wrung out of him like washing rag.

From the distance, he saw Berkut lead a squadron of soldiers up towards the bastion. And despite how he knew Father meant to Berkut, meant to everyone, a strange possessiveness overtook him. He found himself moving towards the top end of the ramparts, blocking any view of Father’s body.

“Alm--” Berkut struggled to catch his breath, eyes wild and unfocused. “--there you are! Do you have any idea what’s been--”

“I know!” Despite himself, Alm’s voice came out harsher than he wanted. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’ve just--”

As Alm struggled to find some words that might capture the last few hours, Berkut pushed past him. Alm couldn’t stop him before he managed to catch sight of the ugly scene.

“Uncle...” Those two syllables managed to break Alm’s heart all over again. There was a weakness to Berkut’s voice he hadn’t heard since the two of them were children. Alm leaned forward to comfort him; however before he could complete his embrace, Berkut gripped his forearms in a tight squeeze.

“Who did this!?” Berkut hissed.

Mila’s shadow hung heavy over the two men. This was a conversation that they had sworn to keep behind closed doors, but what were they supposed to do once everything had been blown open?

“It was her, wasn’t it? Never should have let her out of our sight!”

“What do you want me to do?!” Alm could feel what little control he had mustered start to fray. “He’s gone now! Nothing can change that! Not even a brand!”

Alm wondered what this must look to the outside world: Rigel’s two fine princes yelling like madman. All of Father’s hard work to crafting the perfect golden hero vanquished before he even had a grave to roll around in.

From that thought, the sorrow returned, stronger than ever before. However before the tears could return, Berkut dug his nails into his skin.

“Don’t you dare.” There was a dangerous calmness to his voice. “You don’t have the luxury of grief anymore. You have to be able to do what’s necessary for the country.”

He turned around to face the squadron. “Everyone kneel! You have the honor to bask in the presence of our sovereign emperor!” Berkut fell to his knees in front of Alm, and like dominoes, each following soldier did the same.

“All hail Albine Alm Rudolf II, may his reign be righteous and just!” The cry went out like a chorus, ringing across the ramparts. With each round, another further group repeated it, until the entire castle was shouting as one voice.

It took all of Alm’s willpower not to vomit.

When Berkut rose again, he was quick to issue orders about funeral and burial preparations. As the squadron dispersed Alm wanted nothing more than to fade into the wind--to let the one who truly wanted this responsibility take it. But before he could voice any of those thoughts, Berkut caught him off-guard with one final question.

“Do you have any idea if your wedding gift is still secure?”

Alm was puzzled for a moment. Wedding gift had been their code for Mila since his marriage was arranged. How could he go from recognizing her involvement to asking about her imprisonment?

Suddenly everything came together with terrifying clarity.

Where in the world was Anthiese?

~

Celica had trouble discerning how long she had been in the underground tunnels. There was no natural lighting to indicate if it was night or day. No people going about their daily routine. For all she knew she could have been unconscious for centuries, and spend another few running around in circles. The only way to prove herself wrong, would be if she kept pressing forward regardless.

On one hand the solitude was, all things considered, welcomed--she still felt too fuzzy to attempt any stealth maneuvers. On the other hand though, the further she ventured, the further she felt unmoored from the rest of the world. When she first descended down here, she had mostly followed the pain in her brand. Without its guide, she had no idea where to go.

After what felt like ages wandering in the darkness, Celica found a green feather lying at a crossroads. Immediately she ran up to it, as if it were a talisman that might save her soul. And while even under closer scrutiny, she couldn’t discern anything further about the feather, she noticed a fresh set of claw marks on the rightmost wall. Whether intentional or not, the Earth Mother had not completely abandoned her. And so despite all odds, Celica allowed herself to believe in the hope that she would not stay lost forever, that if she was meant to die, it wasn’t here.

For a moment, it seemed as if her hopes weren’t for nothing. In time her makeshift trail of plumage and scratches brought her to an room so warmly lit, it almost blinded her. Something about that orange glow tugged at Celica’s heart strings. The relief was so great, she almost believed she might be able to truly love Rigel. That she’d never need anything ever again, and she’d be good and obedient if it meant staving off the dread that seemed poised to swallow her whole. She couldn’t help but run to the light without looking back.

However as her vision adjusted, any comfort she had managed to dream up, evaporated in an instant.

From the slick marble tile and high-vaulted ceilings, she could tell that this once was a place of grand splendor. There was a strange nostalgia to the splintered benches and crumbling columns, but she found her gaze being drawn mostly to the broken slab at the far end of the hall. It was hard to say, but perhaps if she put all her attention to reconstructing what it could have been, then maybe the stench of death and decay would fade away. Things would go back to the way they were supposed to be, and she wouldn’t have to live in this nightmare anymore.

Celica didn’t realize she had continued wandering forward until she tripped and found herself on the cool floor. Blankly, she checked to see what had made her fall. She expected to find a loose stone or cracked board, but instead a limp, bruised arm laid sprawled across the path. When it twitched, she could help but shriek.

However rather than reach out and grab her, the arm did nothing but spasm weakly. Instead the true source of life came from the groan that echoed across the room. She followed the arm to find the source to be Jedah of all people, crushed under a pile of rubble.

“Anthiese...is that really you?” His words were slurred and difficult to make out. The only sign of life on his blood-crusted face was the slight tremor of his lip as he spoke.

Celica shivered. His choked voice made her blood run so cold, her tongue felt frozen in place. She tried her best to get away from the horrid sound, but in the process of trying to push herself up, Falchion clattered against the floor with a piercing ring.

“That sword!” He gasped. Quickly Celica picked it back up, a new possessiveness overwhelming her, but he seemed content to simply follow the light that bounced off the blade. “...that’s why he forsook us. You used our own tools to conquer us.”

“My intention has never been to conquer Rigel.” Celica spat.

“Look around you. Duma’s Faithful have been on death row for the longest time. This is just the noose finally tightening around our neck. Now your goddess can reign completely.”

Again Celica remembered the sensation of Mila’s claws on her chin. She wondered if she looked closely, how many other corpses she might find. She wondered if their bodies would carry the same wounds as her.

“Perhaps this is Duma’s last lesson...” Jedah mused. “In my arrogance, I thought I had tamed you thoroughly enough. Let that boy influence me too much. Now you shall be our undoing.”

Celica’s skin crawled. As much as her hatred for him hadn’t diminished in the slightest, she did not want to watch him die. Even as she tried to look away, she couldn’t stop from noticing all the blood stains that lined the walls. Just how many other corpses were hiding among this room? How much blood would stain her hands before Mila’s rampage ended?

“I didn’t want this.” Celica whispered--as if any of that mattered at this point.

When what remained of Jedah’s life began to fade away--she found herself closing her eyes and raising her face towards heaven. If it was a prayer, then she only prayed her drumming heartbeat would drown out his dying gasps.

When she heard a group of soldier shout for her arrest, she didn’t resist.

~

News of Anthiese didn’t get to him until late that night. After Berkut found him, he passed Alm off to Massena for a more formal coronation. Even if Rigel Castle hadn’t been in such a dismal state, succession had become a fraught topic since Father ascended to the throne. Up until now, every heir had been required to be blessed by the Duma Faithful before they could rule. In theory such a thing shouldn’t be necessary now that the Emperor also doubled as head of the Church, but wars had been fought over more insignificant details in the past. As a result, Alm spent most of his day signing documents and sending letters, certain Jedah would interrupt him at any moment. When sunset came and there was still no attempt of a coup, Massena finally bestowed Alm his crown and declared him emperor.

The only witnesses were General Zeke and his wife.

Alm was escorted back to his old chambers afterwards. In theory, they’d have a more public ceremony tomorrow, so it be better if he looked like he had at least gotten an hour or two of sleep. Still even his study had not escaped the day untouched. A pile of notes the height of his forearm laid on top his desk, all addressed to Emperor Albein Alm Rudolf II.

Despite the hour, he still felt the vast emptiness from the morning, somehow too exhausted for sleep. So he tried to do what he thought a chosen hero should do. He lit a candle and went to work.

Anthiese’ report was nestled in between a record of civilian deaths and an estimate charge for castle repairs. He’d be lying if he acted as if he hadn’t be thinking of her all day, but he forced himself to read the paper at the same detached pace as every other piece.

It claimed that the lost princess had been found in Duma Temple, next to Father Jedah’s wasting body. Considering the number of Duma Faithful found dead, she was currently being imprisoned on charges for mass murder. However most of the corpses had been found under rubble and other debris; the report argued it was unlikely she had been the only one responsible. The only piece of evidence she could have been involved was the sword she had been found with.

Alm read the last sentence over. Then he read it again and again, until the words started to blur before his eyes. He pushed the document away and took a deep breath. He tried to hope against hope.

He pulled out the charges for repairs. He read the first line of figures. Then he crumpled it into a ball and headed for the dungeons.

On his journey downwards, Alm couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time he made this trip. If he had reported first to Father as expected, would he still be here today? As illogical as it sounded, he couldn’t stop from trying to pinpoint everything went wrong, when Father’s demise had been locked in place.

“Promise me you won’t let her lead you astray.”

That had been some of his last words. And yet despite everything, when Alm thought of Anthiese, he still imagined her flushed face and the sensation of her lips against his eyelids. He didn’t want to open his eyes, see what she must really think of him when not performing for his pleasure.

This time there was no forcing his way in. The minute the guard saw him, she immediately stepped aside and gave a deep bow. “Is this going to be a private interrogation?” She asked while handing him the keys. And maybe this was another mistake, another point of no return he was damning himself to, but he wanted the two of them to be honest for once, about Mila and everything in between.

“Yes,” He answered. And by the time the door slammed shut, she had all but disappeared down the hall.

A long time ago, Father had told him that the worst thing an Emperor could do, was appear anxious. Any physical tics or irregular breathing could turn into a terrible tell for enemies to exploit. Therefore, Alm took his time facing Anthiese, slowly inhaling and exhaling until the rise in his chest was barely noticeable.

When he finally looked up he found her curled up on the floor wearing a torn set of his shirt and trousers. Shackles chained her to the wall, only allowing a short range of movement, yet even that amount of freedom made him uneasy. He struggled to predict what might occur if she got her hands on him.

“Wake up,” Alm ordered.

He struggled to trust what might occur if he got his hands on her.

The only sign of life she showed was the singular cold eye that peeked out behind her curtain of hair. She looked less like the alluring temptress from the night before and more like a stray hound.

“Most of the time, the high judge is the one to lay out the case, but just this once, I’m going to give you the chance to explain yourself.” He tried to speak with Father’s commanding presence.

Anthiese tilted her head to the side. For a moment she just stared. Then a sickening giggle began to scratch its way out of her throat.

“How nice. Do I get to choose the method of execution as well?”

Alm’s eyes narrowed. “I’d stop the jokes if I were you. The high judge lost his wife this morning. He’s not likely to have much sympathy for you.”

Anthiese stopped giggling. “Do you have sympathy for me?”

His brand ached at her words, as if it was just now being etched into his skin. He wondered if perhaps it was something like an infected wound, slowly spreading to the rest of him.

“Don’t mock my mercy,” He took a step forward, ignoring the pain. “Do you even realize what you’ve done? What wielding that blade means?”

“I’m not an idiot.” She blew a strand of hair out of her face. “I know you already know about the temple and how much blood they say is on my hands. What’s the use in asking for my story?”

“A man is supposed to think the best of his wife.” His words caught on something sharp inside of himself. “An orphaned king must be the loneliest creature in the world. If possible, I don’t want to lose you too.”

“That’s your problem,” Anthiese snapped. “You’ve forgotten Jedah’s warnings. How could a Zofian woman be anything but duplicitous and selfish? It doesn’t matter if you pamper her with flowers, you can’t change nature.” She leaned forward and bared her teeth. “You should have locked me up our wedding night.”

Alm could feel his blood hum through his body. It felt like an entire colony wasps was needling at his skin, wanting to burst clean from his body and swarm. Images of a manor in the woods he did not want to think about flooded his mind.

“Tell me you didn’t know you were doing.” He begged. For a moment he believed that was all they needed to return to the magic of their night together.

Anthiese pushed herself up so that they were eye level. “I rather watch the continent burn than become anything resembling my mother.”

He wished he could say he was blinded with rage. He wished his body had acted as a separate creature from him. but if anything, he felt more like himself than he had all day when he slammed his fist into her cheek.

Anthiese hit the floor hard, her chin catching on a loose stone. A slow stream of blood started to dribble down her neck as Alm gasped for breath. Carefully, she picked herself up, cradling her cheek.

“Thank you, Emperor Albein--” Her voice was cold and distant. “--for finally showing me your gentle, tender care.” The giggle returned louder than ever.

But despite all her best efforts, she could stop the tears that were streaming down her face.

A.N. Well, man was last chapter a bad cliffhanger to end on.  I'm real sorry for the whole two year hiatus, definitely had a lot of personal projects to focus on.  Good news though, this is now the WIP at the top of my "to finish" list.  At the very least, I finally feel as confident as I'll ever be with this chapter, while there are still plenty of questions to answer, I thought it important to really get this personal reactions from the two of them, I wanted to show how grief and trauma can really consume ppl in the worst ways, how it can be defined by painful absences as much as vivid hauntings.

#celicalm #fe echoes #celica #alm #fire emblem echoes #my lame writing #otp: I'll send a storm to capture your heart and bring you home #ships and deserts and swamps oh my #arranged marriage au #definitely mind the trigger warnings on this on guys

[thebirdandhersong]

Hey, so I've basically never watched any k-dramas, but I've read a lot of manga and manhwa and the automatic next step does feel like moving into k-dramas. You seem to have watched a number, so I was wondering if you could make a recommended list? Only if you felt like it of course, but it would be helpful! (Preferably of at least some which are on netflix uk, I looked up 18 again but it's unfortunately not on here in Britain :(. But if you have favourites I'd just like to know them so I can look out for them anywhere)

Also yay! Your term's ended!

(yanks open the door) did someone say RECOMMENDATIONS?? I DO have many!!! Boy do I have them!!!!

(YAY!! One last exam and I'm done for the summer!)

I love Eastern entertainment (manga, k-dramas, c-dramas, and movies from Korea and Taiwan) because of several reasons: the scripts are phenomenal nine times out of ten; Asian culture puts a strong emphasis on the importance of family, personal responsibility, learning from one's mistakes, expressing affection through gestures and acts of service, and friendship and I really love seeing that in a story; and they make good use of silence and stillness in shows and movies, which is pretty rare in Hollywood. The quiet moments between characters are more often than not some of the most important in the story and I Love That!!

The dramas I'm (briefly) listing are in bold if they're available on Netflix UK, and in bold and italicised if they're available on Rakuten Viki (which is a mostly-free drama streaming service, though unfortunately they're rather heavy on the ads). The Absolute Favourites are marked with stars (***). Though I can't actually see the whole list of dramas available in the UK, so some of these may be wrong, and it may be worth checking twice!

If you're in the mood for something fast-paced:

Descendants of the Sun (Viki); considered a Classic

- romantic comedy, medical drama, a bit of action

- The confident and charming leader of a Special Forces unit meets a reserved surgeon and they hit it off, after some... interesting misunderstandings. But after dating briefly and breaking up, they find themselves reunited on a peacekeeping mission in a war-torn country. Insert a lot of Suspense and Excitement but also a lot of Comedy and Sincere Declarations of Love.

- if you enjoy Song Joongki's performance, I'd also recommend his movie A Werewolf Boy. If you enjoy Song Hye-kyo's performance, I'd recommend her drama Encounter.

***Come and Hug Me (Viki, but I don't know if it costs money?)

- thriller/suspense, romance, this one genuinely stressed me out but the moments of peace and reconciliation (and the ENDING) were well worth it

- Their first loves during their youth ends in her mother's death and their separation. Years later, the lively daughter of the murdered woman is now an actress, and the introverted son of the serial killer has become a police officer. They meet each other again (Of Course) and have to tackle all sorts of Nonsense (including the serial killer's return, his murderous brother's return from prison, the Media, the ghosts of their past, etc. etc.) together. HUGE focus on forgiveness, hope, healing, unconditional and self-sacrificial love. Also one of the best redemption arcs (I did in fact bawl my eyes out)

- my friend just started crying when we first watched this drama together because the male lead is just so gentle and tenderhearted and steadfast :')

If you're in the mood for something a bit slower

***Goblin/Guardian (Viki); International Acclaim

- fantasy, drama, one of the funniest dramas I've ever watched, but also tears (I cried at a rate of around once every two episodes. This show talks a lot about life and meaning and the effect your actions and words have on the people around you.)

- Kim Shin, a general from the Goryeo Dynasty, is cursed to live as an immortal Goblin (a Korean mythical/fairy tale figure) until his destined Bride pulls the sword from his chest, thus breaking the 'spell' and ending his life. He really did not expect his bride to be the vivacious and irrepressible Eun-tak, though, and What's More!! He did not expect that he would start wanting to live again :))) Includes a surprising amount of comedy, a surprising amount of tears, and EXCELLENT screenwriting. (Descendants and Goblin share the same brilliant writer.)

- fun fact: parts of it were shot in Quebec!! One of the characters refers to Canada as "the maple nation" early on in the story and my friend and I just burst into laughter.

***Encounter (Viki, but I'm not sure if it costs money?)

- melodrama, romantic comedy, FAIRY TALE

- a cold and withdrawn woman, recently divorced because of her husband's infidelity, and a warm-hearted and optimistic young man meet on the streets of Cuba by accident, and upon separating without means of contact, find themselves back in Korea as boss and newly hired employee. This sounds like a recipe for disaster: stuffed to the gills with unnecessary workplace drama and gossip, etc. but the story focuses instead on family, vulnerability, transformation, sacrifice, about art, compassion, mending relationships, opening up to people, and about the beauty in bringing and receiving comfort and love.

- also. ALSO. Fairy tale!!! with illustrated opening and ending cards and everything!!! (they literally refer to her as the Ice Princess. And her Prince is the human equivalent of sunshine. I Love him)

- if you like Park Bo-gum's performance, I'd recommend Reply 1988, too!

***One Spring Night

- melodrama; quiet and understated but very beautiful

- A bright, clever, and sharp-tongued librarian meets a quiet, steady, and gentle pharmacist one day. It turns out that he's a single father, and she's trapped in a relationship that really isn't working out. Friendship! Family! Sisters standing up for each other and saying No I Won't Let You Treat My Sister Like This, You Jerk! Figuring things out! Learning how to love! I really don't know what else to say, except for the fact that I loved it very much!!

- if you enjoy Jung Hae-in's performance, I'd also recommend Something in the Rain (which should also be on Netflix!) for his acting alone. I just think he's neat.

Reply 1988

- slice-of-life, comedy

- In the late 1980s, five friends (four boys, one girl) who have grown up with each other since childhood are Going Through It in high school. This drama is all about the little things that happen in life, and about learning to understand your family and your friends. Deok-sun is just trying to survive all of This as the middle child, and as a young girl who is trying to figure this Romance thing out. In the present, adult Deok-sun is just as lively, and is now happily married..... but to whom? :))) A Lot of '80s Asian culture, daily antics, and good old friendship.

- if you like Park Bo-gum's performance, I'd recommend Encounter too :)

18 Again (Viki)

- romantic comedy, fantasy/time travel (sort of)

- Nearly twenty years of marriage, and things have been going Wrong all over the place. His wife wants a divorce, he's no longer close to his teenaged kids, and he's just lost the job he's been faithfully working at for years. Daeyoung wishes that he could go back somehow, and finds himself 18 once again.... except he's still in the present. Interesting things ensue. He enrolls in school (it turns out to be the same one his kids attend), and decides to pursue the dreams he had to give up when he was a teenager. Antics ensue! But also Healing: he gets to know his kids all over again, and is able to view his relationships with Dajung (whom he still loves. Of course) and his estranged father in a new light.

- I have not finished this drama yet but judging from the first third of it, it is both well-written and well-acted. There are a few things that I am not a fan of, but on the whole Lee Dohyun's performance is wonderful and I have already cried buckets.

Other honourable mentions:

100 Days My Prince: historical drama. Prince caught in an assassination plot, loses his memory, wakes up in a village right when the king issues a marriage law that results in his marrying the spirited 'spinster'.

Still 17/Thirty But Seventeen: 17 year old violin prodigy in a coma after an accident, wakes up when she's 30; the boy who inadvertently caused the accident runs into her again after she wakes up and helps her adjust to her new life. Lots of wacky humour, very sweet!!

#as per usual this is horrendously long #but i hope that this is helpful!! #k-dramas in the past have had some pretty questionable male leads #as in: the aggressively alpha male lead who thinks kindergarten bullying is a form of flirting #and i am very Not Here for that #so my favourite dramas tend to have Oak/Tilney/Wentworth-style male leads #ALSO!! storytelling in Eastern media takes a different approach than Western media #so it is so interesting to me to watch dramas like Goblin and 18 Again that take a pretty unconventional approach #songbird again

[rainbowvamp]

I Will Never Love Again

Hi friends. My eyes are shaking and I think I might be sick, but here’s the next chapter. Please check ao3 for warnings. I can’t type anymore. 

wc: ~5000

---

The day of the presentation comes, and her mother forces her to make a grand entrance, sequestering her upstairs while her hair is done and her dress is laced on. She isn’t to leave the room until the maid comes to get her. They have only been at the manor house for a week and already she aches to be back home, on the farm that reminds her of Lancelot.

She hears her father making an address to the crowd, thanking the king and crown prince specifically for being there for his only daughter’s first formal presentation to society, and as soon as the clapping starts, she rounds the corner and descends the stairs. 

The room goes quiet, and Morgana doesn’t look at any of them. Her beauty is unavoidable, but she makes her face purposefully harsh, sucking in her cheeks slightly to make her cheekbones sharper, holding her head high and keeping her eyes narrow, unwelcoming. 

Lancelot’s ring is hidden in a pocket in her dress, and it is the only thing she cares about as her father takes her hand at the bottom of the stairs and music starts to play. 

Her father has the first dance with her, and she doesn’t smile once. Not even when her father whispers a slight against their least favorite lord for his gaudy choice of costume for the evening. She doesn’t speak at all to him when he hands her off to the crown prince.

Her father she could ignore, but ignoring the crown prince would be an offense punishable by death. So, when he bows, she returns it with a curtsey, but she doesn’t put on airs, or try to impress him. She doesn’t smile, but when he speaks to her, she answers.

“You look lovely. My father is very impressed.” 

“I’m so glad you’re pleased Your Highness.” Morgana’s tone is blank, face expressionless. There is nothing in the world she cares about less than impressing the King. 

They dance in silence for a few moments, both equally knowledgeable of the steps. The Prince is a good lead, and never once steps on her toes. The soft dancing shoes she wears would probably not survive the stomp of his boot, let alone her toes beneath. 

“For the woman of honor, you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.” The Prince says, spinning her when the music demands it, then bringing her back into his arms. 

She wonders what it would have been like, to dance like this with Lancelot. She would have had to teach him the steps, probably. Country boys don’t get taught these kinds of formal dances. But he had always been so sure of his movements, graceful even in the way he walked, surely he would have learned quickly.

“Your mind is elsewhere.” Arthur takes her by the waist to pick her up and spin her again. She isn’t ready for it, so she doesn’t brace herself like she should, and he has to hold her close to keep her from falling over. 

“It has been a very long year, for me, Your Highness.” Is all she says to him, and the prince frowns.

“You can call me Prince Arthur. It is my name, you know.” 

“Of course, Prince Arthur.” She smiles, but it manages to be cutting, almost mocking, but in a way that no one could prove. 

He smiles back, almost earnestly, shaking his head as the song winds to an end. “I hope you manage to enjoy yourself at your own party.” 

“It isn’t likely, Your Highness.” She bows to him and turns to accept whoever’s hand is next to be offered, only, there isn’t one. Every guest is either dancing with someone else, or standing to the side, watching them without watching. 

“I’m afraid I might have scared away your suitors.” 

You can’t have suitors if you don’t intend to marry. She thinks, but does not say. Instead, she only turns back to him, and waits to see if he’ll escort her off the dance floor or simply release her. He holds out his hand, and she takes it, thinking he would place it at his elbow and take her off the floor, but instead he steps closer to her, like he means to dance with her again.

“Isn’t it cruel, to dance twice in a row with a girl you have no intentions with?” Morgana asked, hoping to dissuade him from trying to take a third dance as the music began to pick up speed. 

“Who said I had no intentions?” 

Morgana scoffed, unbecomingly, and looked very briefly over the Prince’s head, like she couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re a prince. You’ll marry a princess of some foreign country to create an alliance, or establish trade between our countries. I’ll marry the son of a neighboring lord to join my father’s land with his father’s land. We have different roles to play.” 

“I’m sorry you think of marriage as a duty.” Arthur frowns, and Morgana can’t be bothered to respond to this. She follows the steps to the dance, letting Arthur lead her, and as soon as it is over, she excuses herself to get a drink. 

He comes with her, and is quickly lost in the crowd while Morgana is crowded by men young and old, asking when she’d like to dance with them. 

Never is the answer to when she’d like to dance with them, but she has to keep appearances up. She can only push her mourning noncompliance so far before someone starts to get suspicious. It wouldn’t do for someone to find the coins she’d begun storing among her jewelry, or the supplies she’d begun stockpiling in recent weeks. 

She chats and dances with nearly every eligible lord and lord’s son before the evening is done. She forces herself to smile when she wants to scream, and keeps her face neutral even when she wishes to scowl. The few times she catches glimpses of her mother, she looks happy, so she must be putting on a good act. 

She intends to sit out the last dance of the night. Her feet are sore from too much dancing and from the terrible, drunken, pig of a man who had stepped on them three dances ago. However, her social standing is nowhere near high enough to refuse the crown prince a dance. 

“Lady Morgana,” Prince Arthur bows and offers her his hand, and she accepts, attempting to look gracious even though she wants to scream at him. He doesn’t look particularly pleased to be here himself, so that’s something, at least. 

Many guests have already left, but the King and Crown Prince would be spending the night, so he could afford to stay latest. When she looks around the thinned crowd, Morgana sees both her father and the King watching them, heads bowed together and whispering. 

_____

“You look upset.” Arthur says, turning them, not quite in time with the music, so he could see what she saw. His own mouth became a hard line as caught sight of his father. “Ahh. They’re plotting.” 

“Must be. Father never looks that happy unless he’s up to something.” This isn’t strictly true. She’s very upset, and it’s clouding her judgement. She’ll regret saying such a cruel thing about her father in the morning, to the crown prince no less, but she doesn’t care right now. 

“Well, you said yourself, we have different roles to fill.”

“I only hope they remember that.” 

Arthur tilts his head and considers the hard way she speaks. “You don’t want to be married.” This is an assumption, a bold assumption, but he isn’t wrong.

“I loved a man more deeply than most women ever dream to.” He spun her out by the hand and pulled her back in, the dance winding down. “He died. I will never love again.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Morgana looks up at him and he does seem genuinely sorry. If it weren’t so late she never would’ve told him that, but her body was about to drop from the exhaustion of a long night, she’d had too much wine on an empty stomach, and her defenses were down. 

“So was I.” She looks away from him, because she can feel her tears stinging her eyes and she has no desire for the crown prince to see her cry. 

She slips her hand into the pocket of her dress, feels the ring that she’d sewn in herself to keep it from getting lost with her free hand as the music comes to a stop and he bows, kissing her knuckles as he does. 

“I hope you live a very long, very happy life, Lady Morgana.” Prince Arthur’s smile looks genuine, if a little sad, and she can’t do anything more than nod. She thinks it’s cruel to wish her a long life, when it’s doomed to be spent alone. 

He escorts her back to her father, a kindness that was much appreciated considering her weariness, and Gorlois took her from him, excusing himself from the King so he could walk his daughter back to her room.

“The prince quite likes you.” 

“I told him I loved another. He’ll never choose me of his own accord.” She winces at each step she takes up the stairs, her feet and legs protesting against the movement. “If they weren’t here I’d make you carry me. I’m dying.” 

Gorlois laughs, completely nonplussed by her admission. “Nonsense. Your youth is made for dancing. You’ve done good tonight. Your mother will be proud.” 

Morgana slipped her hand back into her pocket, touched the tip of her finger to her ring, and used it to remind her of what was important. 

“I don’t think she will be, for long.” She tries to make it sound like a joke, the inevitable cycle of her mothers disappointment, but Gorlois frowns at it, rather than smiling. 

“I know she’s hard on you, but she wants the best for you. She wants you to be happy.” 

“I would be happy on the farm. I will never be happy here.” She would never be happy without Lancelot. 

“I’m sorry. I thought the farm would do you good, but I’m afraid it’s put too many ideas in your head. You’re not cut out for living on a real farm, Morgana. Yes it’s nice to be so close to all the goings on, but the life you’ve lived is nothing like the life a normal commoner lives. If you were up at dawn on a farm, you’d be rising late. Every bit of cooking and cleaning in the house would fall to you, and you’ve never cooked or cleaned in your life. You’re nobility, Morgana. You don’t dress like it, but you have always acted like it. I think it would be best if we didn’t return to the farm after your presentation.” 

Morgana wonders if Gorlois can read her mind, or at least her intentions. Maybe he’s right, maybe she can’t cook, or clean, but she would learn. She would teach herself if she had to. 

She added this to the list of things she would need to know before Winter’s end, and said nothing to her father.

—-

The next morning she has to dress for breakfast. She cannot get away with wearing one of her peasant dresses because the King and crown prince will be there. Probably along with whatever knights were accompanying them. 

Her maid does her hair for her, the style less intricate but still far more elaborate than her preferred single braid. By the time the last pin is placed, Morgana’s head is already throbbing, but she puts on a smile when her mother comes in because she doesn’t have the energy to fight with her.

“Give it to me.” She said without even saying good morning, and Morgana is honestly confused. 

“Give you what?” She looks at the vanity table she’d been sitting at, and can’t see anything on it her mother might want.

“You know what. Give me that silly little farm boy’s ring.” 

Morgana’s eyes widened and she clutched at the ring where it sat beneath her bodice. “No.” She felt her heart start to race when her mother stepped forward, and Morgana got up, backing away from her. “No, you can’t take it from me. It’s mine.”

“Morgana, The crown prince saw you to three separate dances last night. You are going to give me that ring, and go downstairs and make a good impression on his Majesty or by the gods-“

“What, you’ll send me out on my own? Good. I’ve always hated it here.” 

She doesn’t mean this either, just like what she’d said last night about her father, but she feels like an animal backed into a corner, and she can’t attack her predators any other way. 

“You wouldn’t survive a week outside. Give it to me.” Vivienne lunged for the chord just peaking up above Morgana’s neckline, and Morgana jerked back, back hitting the post of her bed. They struggle, but eventually they each have a hold of the chord.

“Morgana, you are 18 years old, and you need to be married soon. You don’t want to be a spinster for the rest of your life.” 

“I don’t want to be married.” She doesn’t let go on the chord, takes a painful hold of the ring even as her mother draws it out by the chord and tugs, tugs, tugs.

Her fingers are steel. She won’t release it. She doesn’t care about mannerisms or propriety. This is the only thing she has of Lancelot’s and she will not be parted from it. 

It’s the slap that shocks her just enough that her mother manages to tug the chord free from her neck and take the ring. Her cheek stings where her mother has stricken her, and tears are starting to well in her eyes. She grabs for the necklace, consequences be damned, and pushes her mother down to take it from her. From the bed where she’s landed, Vivienne has a perfect view or Morgana fleeing the room. She doesn’t call after her, because the door is open and their home is large, but not so large the King might not hear her yelling for her daughter. 

She gets up and she dashes after her, but it’s too late. She’s nowhere to be seen. She’ll have to find her before anyone realizes she’s missing. She tasks a few servants with helping her and sets off to find Gorlois. 

—

Morgana is saddling her horse on her own when one of the stable hands find her. She’s in a dress that is far too clunky for riding, her hair hurts, and everything is harder to grab because she refuses to let go of the ring in her palm even to put it on. Her mother had tried to take it from her, tried to take Lancelot from her, and she would not have it. She would run right now with no money and nowhere to go if it meant saving her memories of Lancelot. 

How could her mother strike her? Morgana had never been an overly good child, but she had never been wicked. Morgana’s cheek still stings, and she bets it’s red and flushed. She felt so unwanted and unloved the only thing holding her together was the thought of getting on her horse and getting away. 

“Your mother is looking for you, I think.”

Morgana is struggling to adjust her horse’s saddle into the right position, but she recognizes the voice from last night. Prince Arthur is the last person she wants to see, and so she doesn’t even look at him.

“You caused me a lot of trouble. I’m going for a ride.” 

“You aren’t exactly wearing riding clothes.” Arthur comes forward without prompting and takes the saddle from her hands. He finishes doing it up for her, and she is too angry to be grateful, right hand still clutched to her chest, protecting the precious ring inside it curled in her first. “Where will you go?”

Morgana is surprised he’s not alerting the servants or her mother, but this doesn’t make him her ally, and so she lies. 

“I was just going to ride to the nearest village. I needed to clear my head.”

“A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t ride alone. It can be dangerous.” 

“I have done it many times.” Though never in clothes that so obviously gave away her station. 

Arthur raises his eyebrow at this, like perhaps he hears what goes unsaid. “Either way, let me accompany you.” 

“You and how many of your knights?” She scoffed, and Arthur shrugged.

“Just me. My knights are all eating breakfast. That’s where we’re supposed to be as well.” He says this as if he’s reminding her. As if she could have forgotten that their planned breakfast together is the reason her mother had tried to take her ring.

The memory of it makes her voice colder. “I’m not hungry.”

“Perhaps a ride will work up your appetite.” He removed one of the stirrups from her horse so she couldn’t climb on before his own horse was saddled, and she grabbed a stool and seated herself without it, just to be contrary. 

He leads his saddled horse back to hers and replaces the stirrup for her, and she looks down at him haughtily. “You’ve made your point. You’re very independent.” 

“I am. If you insist on riding with me, then hurry up, I don’t have all day.” 

“I’m the crown prince. You have all day if I say you do.” 

First, she think that he is threatening her in some way, but then she realizes what he means. “You’re helping me avoid my parents.” 

“It would seem so. Under the guise that I’m becoming better acquainted with you, of course.” He looks down at her fisted hand, barely able to hold a rein. “You should put it on, so you don’t have to worry about dropping it.”

The very idea horrifies her, and she slips the ring back onto it’s rightful place on her ring finger. “People will talk.”

“Your reputation will stay in tact. My servant is just at the door, keeping an eye on us.” 

“And what about once we ride off.” 

Arthur laughed. “He’ll be following.” 

Morgana rolled her eyes, but she set off, her dress was really not made for this kind of riding. She should be riding side saddle, but she had always felt side saddle to be useless and demeaning. Her dress will smell like the stables and hay when she comes home, and there will certainly be mud to be cleaned from the fine fabrics, but Morgana doesn’t care. It preserves her modesty well enough, and she can’t be bothered with anything more. 

The ride into town is a slow one, sure enough, accompanied by a servant. Usually, their chaperone should be a man who is a member of Morgana’s family, preferably her father, but her mother is probably so thrilled she’s spending quality time with the prince that she won’t care about propriety. 

Or maybe she’ll strike her again when she gets home.

Now that the prince is accompanying her, she can hardly ride off. She’ll have to distract him first. Unfortunately for her, he seems very adamant about sticking to her side. 

“Why are you helping me?” She finally asks, when they’re half way between the manor and town. 

“I’ve had to accept my duties as crown prince. It’s exhausting. I wish someone had been there for me to give me space and time to breath during the worst of it.” He glances at her, and it’s oddly sincere. She hadn’t expected that. She find she almost appreciates it, if only he weren’t ruining her plans to run away.

“I tried to leave, once.” Arthur told her, entirely unprompted. “I was so unhappy with my lot in life, with all thing I’d have to do that would be beyond my control. I took my favorite horse and some coins, and I left the castle. Told my father I was going on a hunting trip.” Arthur isn’t looking at her, keeping his gaze firmly ahead, but Morgana glances back at the servant following them, wondering if this is a conversation appropriate for him hear. “I was gone for a week before I ran out of supplies and money. My father’s men caught up with me a few days later.” 

“How old were you?” 

“Fourteen.” He smiled wryly at her. 

“What made you decide to leave? What was the final straw?”

Arthur made a discontented face. “My father started negotiations with the father of a terrible girl, trying to get me to marry her. I had no interest in her, or in marriage, but my father insisted I’d need an heir one day, and she would do well.” 

Morgana scoffed. “We aren’t so different then.” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

—

They wander town for a while. Prince Arthur very courteously buys her breakfast and a couple of little trinkets her eyes catch on. She tries to refuse them all, but he insists and Morgana is hungry now that she’s away from her mother and the stinging in her cheek has faded. 

She decided that today is not the day to run away. She has no money or supplies and she wouldn’t make it long. That would not do Lancelot proud. She’d wait until Spring, just like she had always planned to. 

When he returned her to her parents, her mother looked like she was going to tear her hair out, even while she looks serenely and gratefully at the crown prince. 

“That was incredibly inappropriate, Arthur,” his father chastises him, but it’s just for show. There’s no real heat in the words. When Morgana looks to Gorlois, who seems reassured by Morgana’s unruffled hair and calm demeanor, she knows that she won’t face any consequences either.

Lancelot’s ring sits on her middle finger when Arthur kisses her hand and wishes her farewell. He says something, just loudly enough for her mother to hear, that they had plotted on the ride back. 

“I do like this ring. Always wear it if you’re coming to see me.” 

“It’s very presumptuous of you to think I’ll come to see you.” She puts on a smile that she knows the men will think is flirting, but her mother will know for what it truly is. Distaste.

“A man can hope.” His smile is genuine, but she thinks it’s more for the trick they’ve just pulled than it is for any real desire to see her again. The crown prince is kind, even if he does make his servants walk several miles into town and back rather than getting them a horse. She had been sure to say it was unkind on the way back, and he had looked at her like it had never occurred to him. 

She waves from her bedroom window as the party rides off, and Arthur is sure to look back for her. It is to play up the ruse for both their parents. He’s agreed to help her stave off suitors as much as he can, in exchange for her doing the same for him. In all likelihood, this plan won’t work out well for him, but so long as her mother thinks she has Prince Arthur’s interest, she won’t push any other suitors on her. If she can stay blissfully unmarried until Spring, just another half year, then she will be free of this place and it’s expectations, just like she always wanted. 

—

Autumn puts a pin in her plans. Her mother takes ill, and Morgana spends all her time at her beside. Even if she sometimes loathes what her mother has tried to turn her into, Morgana remembers being sung to by the fireplace, and told stories beneath thick trees, hidden away from the summer sun. She remembers being taught to ride side saddle by her mother, and being gifted her beloved horse. Even if she thinks her mother is cruel to her now, she’d never wish for her death.

And yet it comes, while her father is away at the castle, seeing to his Lordly duties. She sends a messenger to tell him, to bring him home. The messenger returns. Her father doesn’t. 

He’s killed in a raid on the ride back. He’d returned alone, unguarded, trying to get back to his daughter and he belated wife as quickly as possible. Word doesn’t come for nearly two days that he is dead. 

She buries her mother alone. 

They never find her father. 

—

King Uther doesn’t just send regrets, he sends his son. His son, and a whole hoard of servants and knights.

An unmarried woman living alone in her father’s home is uncouth, but it hardly calls for all her possessions being moved to the palace, and her along with them. 

The letter Uther wrote is given to her by Prince Arthur himself, his face hard and lined with worry. For her or for what this means for him, she doesn’t know, and she doesn’t care. 

She’s in a mourning dress. Simple and toneless colors. Her sleeve almost matches the parchment he hands her as she reads it off. 

Lady Morgana,

I send my deepest regrets regarding your mother and father. Gorlois was a dear friend of mine, and I wish to honor his legacy however I can. Preparations have been made to move you to the palace, where you will be housed until you are married. You will be well cared for here, and while you are gone, I will see your land and servants well attended to by the Lord Agravaine, my late wife’s brother.

Fret not, child, all will be well.

King Uther

“I’m being kidnapped,” she whispered, twirling Lancelot’s ring on her finger while she thinks. 

“I tried to convince him to let you stay here, but he wouldn’t hear it.” He leans in closer so no one will hear what he says next. “I’m sorry. I did try.” 

“I appreciate it.” She said back, watching as servants walked out the door and filled carts with her things. “I don’t think either of us will sway him.”

“No, I don’t think we will.” His lips are thin as he thinks. “If you have anything you’d rather not be seen, I would pack it yourself.” He hands her a bag that she recognizes as the saddlebag for her horse. She doubts that she will be allowed to ride the whole way there on her own horse, but she will try.

“You mean like the money I’ve been stockpiling to run away?” She asked with a half grin, and he smiled back at her, looking at their feet and shaking his head.

“Yes, I would say like that.” He laughed. 

The ride is long, but she has made it before. It wasn’t often that she visited Camelot, but she did remember the way. Also remembered a stream that had flowed near the path from when she made the trip nearly five years before, just a girl of thirteen who’d still be allowed to play sometimes. 

When the stop for camp and she recognizes the little deer trail that leads to the stream, she’s insistent to the nearest two knights she can find that she wants to go to it.

The knights assure her that a tub can be filled if she truly wishes to bathe and she scoffs at them.

“I’m not going to bathe in the woods like an animal. I only want to see it.” 

And that is how she ropes two knights into coming with her to the stream. The one who speaks, Sir Leon, is very polite, and she doesn’t have a problem with him. She also doesn’t feel bad ignoring him when she reaches the steam, leaving her shoes beside him while she edges close to the water. She hasn’t been allowed to walk on bare earth since the farm, since before she had confessed her love the Lancelot, and it feels surreal to have the ground so solidly beneath her again. She wades ankle deep into the water and the current laps lightly at her, making her feel welcome. Her dress is not pulled up an improper amount, but she she turns back to look at them, both knights are looking away. 

In the distance, she sees another one making his way towards them, and she knows it must be Arthur. His shock of blonde hair and grim face were very recognizable.

“Did it occur to you, Lady Morgana.” The crown prince asked from the edge of the clearing between her two guarding knights, “To tell someone before you left camp?”

“I told Leon. I even brought him with me.” She smiled and found his answering frown amusing.

“Excellent, I think I see where our wires are crossed. Because you brought him with you, Sir Leon couldn’t tell anyone else where you’d gone. So instead, I had to trek into the woods looking for you, with no idea why you’d gone.” 

“Afraid for my honor?” She asked with a soft laugh, kicking one foot and splashing water in his direction.

He frowned down at her bare, wet feet, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Afraid for your safety, is more like it. These woods could be filled with any number of ill intentioned men.”

“That’s why I brought Sir Leon with me.” Her heart is light for the first time in months and she doesn’t see what all the fuss is about.

“Put your shoes on. We’re going back to camp.” 

“You sound like my father.” She flicked water in his direction before turning her back to him and wading in deeper, to her mid calves now. “Be responsible, Morgana. You have to wear the right clothes, and say the right things, look good for the right people.” Morgana closes her eyes and feels the power of the world around her, like it’s the only thing that matters. “My mother and father did the right things their whole lives, denied themselves basic pleasures for the sake of propriety. And they’re dead now. So if I want to wade into a stream, I will do it.” 

Arthur says nothing to this. She doesn’t hear him leave, and when she’s finally ready to return to camp, she finds him leaning against a tree near Sir Leon, her boots ready and in his hand.

He hands them to her, and she nods her thanks.

“I don’t mean to take your joys from you. I only want you to stay safe.”

“I was safe. I brought two of your best knights with me. I’m broken hearted, and terribly young to be an orphan, but I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were.”

“So believe it.” 

#albionparty21 #red team rulz #can't see help #noblepriestess #pbau au proper

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

The Angel of Death with the Proud King and the Devout Man

Word Count: 2700+ (oneshot)

[AO3]

Genre: Family/Angst

Characters: Arba, Ithnan, Falan, Arba’s daughter (OC), Ren Gyokuen

Summary: Learning to forge a great sword takes a lifetime. A swordsmith must be patient and diligent, going through many flawed blades until finally bringing the perfect weapon to life.

Or, it took Arba generations to master the raising of her children into vessels. Her true firstborn had a chance to escape and free her descendants from centuries of loss and pain, but their fates have always been in their mother's hands.

Written for @magizine. Warning for child abuse.

~0~

“We begin in the dark

And birth is the death of us.”

- Antigone, Antigonick

~0~

Ithnan did not like this world one bit. Painfully empty and barren, with a sky too pale blue and a climate too hot and dry. Alma Torran had been a lost cause, but that did not mean its replacement appealed.

Arba had ordered them to stay put until she returned, and then ventured into the desert. Time was of no importance to them; these doll-bodies felt no exhaustion, hunger, or thirst, but if he was being honest, he suspected many of their number were still in shock from the end of their home world. There was only one of them he really worried about.

“Feel like getting up now?”

Falan slowly turned her dead-eyed stare up to him, not moving from where she lay in the sand. In the heat of battle, Wahid’s sacrifice hadn’t sunken in, but now, in this empty, silent place, the loss of her whole family hit her like a thunderbolt.

“Even if I could, Ithnan, what would I do? Where do we even go from here? This world was never for us, after all.”

He nodded in understanding; in a world so tainted by Solomon’s will, every breath of air felt poisonous. “It will all be gone eventually. I trust Arba to see to that.”

Falan snorted. “Oh? And where is she? What could she be doing that’s so important?”

Ithnan opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, the soft rush of air above him made him look up instead.

They had had flying carpets back in Alma Torran, and he hadn’t been surprised to find them here as well. He was even less surprised to see Arba sitting leisurely atop it, looking no worse for wear. 

What did surprise him, though, was the blanket-wrapped bundle she carried in her arms.

“Arba, where did you get that?” he asked by way of greeting, as she lighted on the sand and stepped down. 

Arba gave him her usual self-satisfied smile. “I told you I was doing some experimenting. These bodies aren’t capable of channeling our full magical potential the way a natural body could. It appears, though, that they can produce natural bodies just as well.”

“And you brought the result back with you...why?”

But Arba wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. She turned to Falan, who was sitting bolt upright and staring at her. Far from her eyes being dull and lifeless, Ithnan thought that they were now too bright. 

“Arba...you...?”

“She’s a couple weeks old.” If Ithnan hadn’t known her, he would have believed that the warmth in Arba’s eyes and smile were genuine. “Her name is Yaiba. Would you like to hold her?”

Falan scrambled up from the sand and reached out. As Arba passed the infant into her arms, Ithnan caught a glimpse of dark eyes and downy black hair standing out against the white blanket. 

“Arba, where have you been?” he insisted, while Falan murmured, mostly to herself, about how beautiful their leader’s new daughter was. “Did you leave us here just to play around?”

The way Arba laughed in response made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “We’ll be moving out tonight. I have found the perfect country for us to put down roots in. It will serve our purposes quite nicely.”

“A good place to raise a child, then?”

Arba smirked, caressing the hilt of the sword at her hip. “Well...not exactly.”

~0~

Arba never questioned her own existence. Though she had been built by magic and Solomon born, they were both creations of David. At least in the beginning, there was no difference between them. 

This girl was her own creation. And for a first attempt, Arba was inclined to consider her a complete success.

She hadn’t thought much of Yaiba, at first. Falan was perfectly happy handling her through her infancy and toddlerhood, when Arba had no use for her yet. Though she did feel an indulgent glimmer of pleasure every time she saw the little girl clumsily trying to chase at her heels, wanting to close the distance between herself and her true mother, Arba had more important things to attend to. Kou was a small country, but a hot-blooded and vicious one, constantly and bloodily clashing with its siblings Gou and Gai. If there was a better base of operations for al-Thamen, any better place to start sowing chaos across this world, it simply didn’t exist yet. 

As the girl grew older, it was a different story. It had been a greater shock than she had had in centuries, the first time she turned to look at Yaiba’s face and realized it was like looking in a mirror. She’d lived for centuries and it was perhaps the strangest thing she had experienced yet.

“Mama? May I hold your sword?”

Arba was certain that this must be what a blacksmith felt, crafting the perfect blade. From the first moment she guided her daughter’s small hesitant hands over the hilt and the flat of her sword, to the hours she spent standing, arms crossed and eyes sharp, at the side of the courtyard as the growing girl went through forms on her own, the sight of her never failed to make the hair on the back of her neck rise in anticipation.

Yaiba was not a perfect reflection of her mother. Her midnight hair and her dusky blue-black eyes set her apart, marking her as Kou’s child as much as Arba’s own. But even more than that, the light in those eyes and the sweetness of her smile were qualities alien to Arba. 

Often, though, those were the aspects of her that drew Arba’s eye the most. She would catch herself trying to commit them to memory: they were the ones that would be erased someday, after all.

“Lie still, darling...”

Falan had lost interest in coddling her past the age of four. The other members of al-Thamen treated her with politeness due their leader’s only child, but kept her at arm’s length. She knew of other children, but had never so much as spoken to any of them. So Yaiba craved the touch of her untouchable mother, even when it brought her pain instead of comfort. Perhaps especially then.

“Agh...M-Mother...!”

The girl knew how to endure. On top of relentlessly training her body, she had spent her life regularly sitting for lectures about where her family came from, what they were planning to do, everything that she herself was being trained for.

(Well...almost everything. Though none of them were technically lying when they told Yaiba she was supposed to become strong for her mother, she was sure the girl couldn’t anticipate how literally they meant it.)

Her eyes were always bright and attentive, and she dutifully stored away the information, lived by it without hesitation. Arba knew that she would take her beliefs and hold no true passion for them, but that was all right, so long as she obeyed. And she did, so very well.

“A little more, my girl. Just a little more.”

It was a sight she now treasured: Yaiba in the center of the circle of all al-Thamen, sprawled on her back on the floor, a tight, frightened smile straining her ashen face. Her mother told her that the white rukh she had been born with were poison to her, that she needed to be purified, so she willingly laid down and allowed them to darken it. 

Arba straddled her, palms pressed to the girl’s temples, fingers in her sweat-soaked hair. Their magic was powerful, coursing through her veins with a force that would mangle most humans, but this body she had groomed for thirteen years could hang on through its assault on her rukh. 

Yaiba’s smile stretched like cracking glass, and she struggled to speak instead of moan.

“It’s...I’m...g-good?”

“Yes, you’re doing beautifully. Once more, now...”

Again magic roiled and shivered through their ranks before being channeled into their center, surging into Yaiba’s body like a tidal wave crashing onto the shore. The girl choked on a scream, eyes rolling back in her head as she jerked and thrashed under her mother’s hands. 

The rukh shrieked freely, buzzing and darting all around Yaiba’s body, before finally succumbing. As if with the wave of a paintbrush, they turned a rich, beautiful black. They would revert back soon enough — Arba was still working out how to make the change permanent — but for now it was an encouraging sight.

Yaiba’s face paled as if a bone had broken. Her back arched sharply off the ground, and with one final gasp she collapsed to the floor, unconscious. She lay alarmingly still there, with her limbs at strange angles. Like a puppet with its strings cut, if she permitted herself such an on-the-nose comparison.

Arba stroked her cheek lightly with the backs of her fingers, the sweet smile she’d put on still lingering on her face. She never loved Yaiba more than she did in these moments, when the girl had given up everything in her to her mother. She suspected that Yaiba knew that.

Soon, she would scoop her daughter up, carry her from the room, and tuck her into bed. Maybe she’d even stay there for a while, before leaving to let her sleep as long as her body needed. But for now, she would savor the moment just a little longer.

~0~

There was no sound she loved more than her sword whistling through the air.

Yaiba remembered when she had first been allowed to handle her mother’s sword, how intimidatingly heavy it felt in her hands. Now that she had her own weapon — identical, yes, but her own — she swung it as freely and easily as her own arm. 

“You’ve gotten stronger,” her mother said, casually as if over a meal, as she parried every ferocious strike Yaiba threw at her. “If I were anyone else, they would be dead now.”

Yaiba had never killed anyone, though she knew her family had. She always wondered why Mother didn’t order her to, if death and chaos were what this world deserved. But Mother kept her home, just endlessly training her.

It was only a week ago that Yaiba had finally been told why. 

Mother’s smile was fond, as always. But now the glint in her eyes as they sparred felt less proud and more smug. Yaiba saw that scarlet glow in her dreams now. 

She slashed at her mother’s throat with all her strength, knowing full well that it wouldn’t touch her skin. With one vicious swing and a sharp clang of steel on steel, Mother knocked her sword from her hands, and lunged for her. Yaiba wasn’t afraid: she knew what she was meant to do next.

Just as Mother’s sword was about to split her skull, she let the magic in her body swell outward, and her world took on the swimming golden tint of a borg. No sooner had the blade made contact with it than its energy crackled sharply through the air, and her mother was blasted across the courtyard. Her own magic caught her just before she slammed into a wall, letting her smile down at Yaiba from midair. 

“Good girl. Aren’t you strong?”

“Yes, Mother,” Yaiba said, lowering the borg, letting her mother come back down to her and take her face in her hands. 

“You know how proud I am of you, right?”

Of what you’ve made of me.

“Yes, Mother. I’ll be glad to give you all my strength.”

“Good girl. Take the rest of the day to yourself. Do anything you like. And we will all be honored to see you tonight.”

Yaiba could only force a smile until Mother’s back was turned, when her eyes narrowed and her lip curled in disgust. 

Sixteen years of life, and every single day of it given to her mother. She had done everything right: staying sequestered in her family’s compound like a dog in its kennel, training until she bled with magic and sword alike, even lying down pliantly on the basement floor in the circle of her family, letting her mother pin her down as the onslaught of magic tore through her body.

She had thought it would be over, once her rukh was purified for good. She thought her mother would finally be satisfied. What more could she possibly have left to give?

Her body. Her life. 

Too much.

Tonight, Yaiba was expected to go down to that basement one last time, let them all put their hands on her, and open herself up to her mother’s soul. Either she would die outright, or be trapped forever as a prisoner in her own body. She didn’t know which would be worse.

She supposed she wasn’t as well-trained as Mother believed, she thought spitefully. Though the idea of running from it almost scared her more, she just couldn’t accept it. 

Maybe the world really was as horrible as her family always said. But she would take her chances. She had been raised to be strong, after all.

~0~

Arba almost had to laugh. Her girl was clever...but naïve. 

She watched from the rooftop at the little shadow in the night, slipping across the grounds and starting to scale the high outer wall. Did she really think her mother wouldn’t catch on to her true feelings? Or that that black cloak would hide her identity? Oh, the darling thing.

She waited until Yaiba was successfully over the wall before making her move. Her magic might be fettered by this doll-body, but she could still leap and float soundlessly after her quarry. Lighting atop the wall, she smirked at the way Yaiba was taking her hood down to get a better view of the mountain forest she was venturing into, mouth hanging open and dark eyes huge, the same way she used to look up at her mother as a little girl. 

It was as good a final sight as any. Arba pounced from the wall, slamming Yaiba to the ground from behind, and actually laughing when she screamed at the top of her lungs.

“You should have known there was no escape, darling. Now, hold still, and hopefully it won’t hurt.”

Yaiba’s face went bone white, and she thrashed and bucked beneath her, pushing at her arms.

“No! Mother, please, don’t! I want to live, please, just let me go, for a little while more—”

“And then you’ll come back to me on your own time?” Arba chuckled fondly, careless of Yaiba’s nails clawing at her arms. “Oh, no, my precious child. This is what you were born for. Farewell, Yaiba.”

She leaned down to kiss her daughter’s forehead one last time, and then began. It was easy to enter her: there wasn’t much difference between her magic and her soul.

“Please! Mother, don’t, no — oh —!”

Yaiba choked and seized, trying to resist her. But before long her eyes rolled back in her head, her limbs went rigid—

And Arba batted the empty doll off her chest, stretching her gangly new limbs as she stood up. She had never felt young before, and so did not recognize the sensation. But power, satisfaction, triumph...oh, yes, she was as intimately familiar with them as she would become with her own body.

~0~

Yaiba’s thousand years of descendants tended to run together in Arba’s memory. But could anyone blame her? So many faces, so many names, and so few of them truly important. She had never been as close with any of her myriad children as with her firstborn.

Until now, that was. 

Shuuen, her current host, was one of the many. Gyokuen was one of a kind.

Her eldest daughter knelt on the floor of her bedroom, head bowed, absorbing what she had just been told. Arba ran her fingers soothingly through her loose hair.

“This is what you were always meant to do. Do you understand, darling?”

Gyokuen hummed thoughtfully, before lifting her head. Yaiba’s features survived in her, as they would in her children, but they held none of her ancestor’s fear. She was the picture of perfect calm, and while she had taught the girl well how to fake that, Arba could tell that it was genuine now. 

“You’re going to let me become one with you. We’ll never be apart. There’s nothing I could possibly want more.”

Arba saw her own smile reflected in her daughter’s eyes, which shone with devotion. Or avarice. It was difficult to tell with this one.

“That’s my girl. We will bring this world to its end together.”

#magi #magi labyrinth of magic #magi arba #ren gyokuen #kaen's fics

[fific7]

Something Blue

Sirius Black x Reader

@omgrachwrites 500 Follower Celebration

AU prompt: Arranged Marriage

Summary: Sirius is not going to agree to this. At all.

Warnings: Swearing, brief mention of parental child abuse, Smut Lite but maybe 18+ just in case. The age of consent is 16 in the UK, sorry if that’s not in line with your own country’s/state’s laws.

A/N: Sorry for the child abuse but we all know what darling Walburga’s parenting goals were. This is mainly non-canon, my imaginary HP AU.

(my GIF)

Sirius Black leapt up out of his chair, knocking over his ornate crystal glass as he did so.

“NO! NO, NO, NOOOOO!!! I will not agree, I will never agree!! I’m not a piece of meat to be auctioned off to the highest bidder!”

His younger brother looked as if he was trying to disappear beneath the fancy lace-edged tablecloth. But it wouldn’t budge to the side enough for Regulus to slip under it.

His father leant back in his seat, sipping from his wineglass, all the while contemplating his eldest son, an ambiguous expression on his aristocratic face. Sirius looked like a mini-me of Orion, except without the silver-grey hair at his temples.

His mother. Well.... his mother. Her face looked like a dragon’s might as it built up to unleashing a huge tongue of flame onto an unwary passerby. Only scarier. Much, much scarier.

Sirius didn’t want to hear what she had to say - or rather scream. He turned on his heel and started barging clumsily out of the huge dining room. Before he could reach the door however, her shrill voice rang out, bringing him to a halt involuntarily.

“SIRIUS ORION BLACK! Return to this table NOW! Who gave you permission to leave the room??!! We haven’t finished discussing your marriage!”

He hesitated for a moment, but then resolutely continued walking to the door. But yet again he didn’t reach it. A long string of stinging spells hit him, making him cry out and drop to the floor.

His mother glided across the room, and stood over him. “Get up, you weasel! Miserable little whelp!” He couldn’t move. Another round of the same spells hit him. He twisted in pain, curling up into a foetal position to try and protect himself.

“Walburga!” his father’s deep voice rang out. “That’s enough. Sirius - get to your room! I’ll speak to you later, boy!”

Sirius hid under his quilt, still in pain from the quantity and strength of the stinging spells inflicted on him. He only had a month of the summer holidays left before he returned to Hogwarts for his 6th year. He sobbed quietly. 30 days of torture to endure. How was he to survive it?

******************************************

Sitting on the Gryffindor common room sofas with her friends & dorm-mates Lily & Mary, Y/N Y/L/N eagerly caught up with all their gossip from the summer holidays. That’s what first day back at school was meant for, after all.

They were even more eager to hear all about her holidays. She came from one of the old pureblood wizarding families, and they’d taken her and her younger brother to the South of France for a month.

They ooh’d and ahh’d at her descriptions of the palm trees, the beaches, the sunny weather, the French couture, the tedious formal balls she’d had to attend. She’d rolled her eyes as she described all the handsome but crushingly boring French wizards she’d had to make small talk with. And then there was the matter of....

Their chat was rudely interrupted by 4 teenage boys hustling into the common room, noisily and boisterously talking to each other. They were collectively known as The Marauders.

James Potter made a beeline for Lily, leaping athletically over the back of the couch she was sitting on and landing right next to her. “My Lilyflower!” he yelled, flinging an arm over her shoulders.

Like clockwork, she threw off his arm, scowling at him & snarling, “Get lost, Potter!”

Y/N and Mary grinned at each other, caught by Lily and also getting a glare from her.

The other boys also squeezed onto the couches, Sirius Black next to Y/N, Remus and Peter on either side of Mary.

“Hi, guys,” said Y/N, “how were your holidays?”

And so their summer stories were quickly added to the gossip pot, except that Sirius just mumbled, “Was okay,” and nothing else.

Y/N watched him, worried. She knew only too well what his parents were like. She guessed he probably didn’t have the best of summers. She’d speak to him later on.

*******************************************

She lay in her bed that night, thinking about Sirius. They’d always been good friends, ever since kindergarten, as their families moved in the same social circles. But they genuinely liked each other, it wasn’t just the family/same circle thing. Amongst other things, they shared the same view about the whole pureblood scenario and loved the same kind of music.

He’d admitted to her that this summer had been the worst yet. She’d hugged him to her, giving him all the silent support and comfort she could. They had sat there by the fire in the common room for hours, both shedding a few tears.

But they’d discovered one surprising thing in common; both sets of parents had announced that they were currently arranging marriages for their eldest children.

The next evening, Y/N and Sirius had a very satisfying venting session about the (in their eyes) antiquated tradition. But their parents were determined to continue with it. And that meant they had no choice but to follow their parents’ wishes.

Neither of them knew who their “intendeds” were to be yet, as negotiations between all the interested parties were still ongoing.

Y/N had been pondering on that, quite a lot in fact - throwing out every unattached pureblood name she could think of. Sirius had eventually snorted and declared that he didn’t give a damn, as he wouldn’t be consummating his marriage.

“Sirius!” squealed Y/N, “that’s the whole idea of getting married!”

He shrugged, “Don’t care. I’m not doing it and fuck the lot of them!”

“Apart from your wife!” sniggered Y/N, and Sirius joined in her laughter.

One evening in the common room, while cuddling each other on the couch, Y/N laughingly said to Sirius, “Wouldn’t it be a riot if they matched us two?” and both had then descended into fits of giggles.

“Bloody cattle market,” grumbled Sirius, “it’s ridiculous. We’re still almost children ourselves.”

Because what they did know, was that they’d be married off shortly after their 16th birthdays.

The pureblood wizarding world wanted a lot more little wizards & witches running around as soon as possible, so the more usual matrimonial ages of 17 or 18 had been pulled back to facilitate this.

Sirius’ birthday was in early November, while Y/N’s was in early December. It was still September, so they still had a couple of months of freedom left.

********************************************

Their friends were totally shocked when told about the arranged marriages, not understanding the tradition and culture behind it. But they tried to be as supportive as possible.

Lily and Mary went on several wedding dress shopping trips with Y/N, as her parents had agreed that she could choose her own outfit. Finally she found a figure-hugging ivory column dress with a long train, and a simple veil attached to a tiny tiara. The dress was tastefully cut, with a low - but not too low - sweetheart neckline.

With a matching pair of high-heeled satin court shoes, Y/N looked elegant and beautiful. She was really pleased with her choice, and didn’t give one thought to what her husband-to-be would think. How could she, when he was a faceless unknown entity? She put the outfit in its garment bag and stowed it safely away at the back of her wardrobe.

Sirius and Y/N bonded even more over the predicament they found themselves in, whispering and gossiping in corners about it.

“Well, I’m just going to act like the royalty I am, and have lots of side girls,” declared Sirius.

Y/N burst out laughing, “Sirius! You’re such a colossal drama queen!”

“Huh!” he huffed, “and what if I am? The whole thing’s a complete farce!!!”

*********************************************

Nothing was heard from either set of parents by mid-October, and Y/N & Sirius were hoping that they’d been unsuccessful in arranging any matches yet. After all, the formal engagement shenanigans still had to take place before the actual weddings.

However, neither of them had been able to resist whining to their families at every possible opportunity about the whole idea. It was only too apparent to everyone that it was still a very unwelcome plan to both teenagers.

Not that it bothered the families in the slightest. Each complaint washed over them, ignored, like waves running over the sand with each turning of the tide.

Sirius’ birthday came and went. Nothing. Nada. Radio silence. Y/N looked gleefully at Sirius, “You might’ve escaped it, you lucky devil!”

He grinned back, “Hey, don’t jinx it, Y/N!”

*********************************************

But it seemed she had jinxed it.

Two days before Y/N’s birthday in early December, Sirius vanished from Hogwarts. No-one seemed to know where he’d gone, but Y/N had a sinking feeling in her stomach.

She was certain that her lifelong friend was going to be an engaged man when he returned. And very shortly thereafter, a married man.

How would she deal with that? It was such an alien concept.

Would his wife have to come and live with him at Hogwarts? What if she was horrible and didn’t fit in with their friendship group? She sincerely hoped she wasn’t an awful person, but some of those pureblood girls...!! Hellish!!!

But what if she monopolised his time & didn’t even want him to hang out with his friends at all?

She was very worried that her friendship with Sirius would never be the same.

Oh well, probably not all that long to go until she found out the answers - good or bad.

She didn’t really think about how Sirius would react once she was married, too.

********************************************

The day after her birthday, Y/N was summoned to Dumbledore’s office.

Her stomach knotted and her hungover (birthday party) head throbbed even more. What could she possibly be in trouble for? It must be something big, otherwise surely a telling-off from McGonagall would have sufficed?

It turned out that her parents had sent for her, and they were in Paris! Her heart sank. Damn! They’d found a fiancé for her, and she was obviously expected to go and meet him, possibly even become engaged to him as soon as they met.

She wondered if it would be one of those boring boys she’d met over the summer. Her family hadn’t holidayed in France for a while prior to that, and now she wondered if the real reason had been for her parents to check out some potential fiancés for her.

She groaned.

Dumbledore gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m guessing from that groan that you’ve got an idea what this is about? I’m not going to comment at length on pureblood traditions, but I will say this - it seems to be happening very quickly, and you are still so young....” He sighed.

He reached out and handed her a small metal trinket box, which had been sitting on the corner of his desk. “Two minutes,” he warned, and once the time had passed, Y/N disappeared with a swirl, landing in a very elegant hotel room in Paris, on the Champs Elysee.

********************************************

“WHAT??!!! she screeched at her mother. “No! I will not!!!”

“Y/N, you will. We decided that an engagement was not required, as they are a useless waste of time & money. This way, you will begin your married life immediately.”

Y/N stomped over to her bed and threw herself onto it. “Just so I can get pregnant sooner, huh?! Well, no..... I won’t do it!”

Her father came into the room, frowning deeply at her temper tantrum. He spoke to her sternly.

“Your wedding dress will be delivered to the room in 15 minutes, young lady. It’s being steamed at the moment. As soon as it gets here, you will put it on and I’ll take you down immediately to the ballroom for the ceremony.”

Y/N burst into tears. “Father, I haven’t even seen or met him!! How can you expect me to marry him today?!”

“That’s exactly it, Y/N. It is what’s expected of you, to carry on the pureblood line. They are a noble family and it’s a very advantageous match. I am sure you will like him.”

*********************************************

Her father had more or less dragged her into the ballroom.

There were a few rows of chairs, covered in ivory silk and set in a crescent shape round a flower-covered altar. Some French purebloods were already seated on them, along with family members.

The celebrant watched Y/N being coaxed and prodded up the aisle by her father. Merlin, what a couple these two were going to make, he thought, frowning slightly as he looked down at the sulky male face and crossed arms in front of him.

Y/N was shoved next to her bridegroom eventually, and she cast a sideways glance at him. He picked the same moment to scowl over at her.

Everyones’ heads in the room snapped up as both Y/N and the groom cracked up in hysterical laughter.

Given the relatively small pool of suitable matches, some would say it was quite predictable that Y/N and Sirius would end up standing beside each other at the altar.

**********************************************

Much later that evening, Sirius & Y/N locked the door to their honeymoon suite.

They’d changed into more relaxed clothes before the reception, and Y/N began to pack away her wedding dress and accessories, which she’d left on the bed earlier.

Sirius was hovering. It was the only way Y/N could describe it. He paced from the french windows which led out to onto a large balcony, to the small lounge area, to the en-suite. And back. And again, his long legs carrying him there and back in a few moments, over & over.

“Sirius.... you’re going to wear a path in that carpet with all your pacing back and forward.”

She heard him clear his throat, gulping a bit, so she turned to him.

“Please... just sit down for a minute.”

He sighed, then plopped down onto a chaise longue. He put his head in his hands.

“Y/N.... I’m so nervous.”

She sat next to him. “Why?”

“We’ve been like brother and sister all the time we’ve known each other! And now... well, you know....” he looked up at her, looking so worried that she immediately hugged him. He tensed up as she put her arms round him, so she stroked his cheek gently.

“Sirius, it’ll be fine. Just fucking relax, please, will you!”

He leapt up. “Why are you so CALM!!” he yelled.

He marched over to the en-suite, going in and slamming the door.

Y/N sighed and rolled her eyes. She was well aware that she was now hitched to a king-size drama queen, but Sirius was handling this a lot worse than she’d expected.

She went back to packing her wedding clothes away. She was beginning to get a bit annoyed with him, because after all - she was in exactly the same position. But he seemed to have lost sight of that, steeped in his own insecurities. Didn’t he wonder how she might feel, having to sleep with her “brother”?

She wasn’t blind - she’d always found Sirius very attractive, he was a very handsome, sexy boy. But she had violently pushed away any erotic thoughts of him, precisely because of their sibling-like day to day relationship. And she was sure he didn’t think of her in any other way, judging by the number of girls he’d flirted with and snogged (and more?) during his 4th & 5th years at Hogwarts.

An hour later, Sirius was still locked in the bathroom. Y/N left him to stew.

She finished packing up all her things, then changed into the ridiculous nightgown her mother had insisted she wear on her wedding night.

She thought that her mother must be stuck back in the Victorian era, as she regarded the floor-length, white, floaty piece of nonsense she was wearing. Wasn’t this what they called a passion-killer in Muggle novels? Although it was quite see-through, now that she looked closer.

She lay down on the massively deep and comfortable quilt, picking up her book and beginning to read. Not what she’d envisaged doing on her wedding night. She huffed to herself; it looked like Sirius was following through on his threat not to consummate the marriage.

After another hour or so, her eyes started fluttering closed as she began dozing off. She jumped a little as she heard the bathroom door open. She leant up, on her elbows.

Sirius edged slowly into the main room. He was naked as the day he was born, but shyly covering himself with both hands. He stared at her at she lay on the bed.

“I...” he gulped, “I’ve... never slept with anyone before,” mumbling down into his chest, not looking at her. That took her by surprise. Judging by the standard hallway gossip, Sirius had slept with half the school. “Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say. Then she spoke up again, “Well, neither have I.”

He suddenly met her eyes. “Thought you might like to get a look at the goods before we have sex.”

“So we’re having sex, then?” she questioned him.

“We have to, don’t we?” he replied, “We’ve got to make babies, and soon, or else we’ll never hear the end of it.”

“How romantic, Sirius.”

“Just being realistic. You were the one who told me I had to consummate my marriage, who said that was the whole point of getting married.”

He dropped his hands down to his sides.

Her eyes raked over his tall, slim, athletic body, lingering on what was between his legs. It was - a lot bigger - than she’d been expecting, and he didn’t even have a hard-on yet. He had more body hair than she’d guessed too, studying the smattering of hair on his chest, and the line of dark hair leading downwards from his navel. Her eyes roamed back up to meet his.

“Why, Sirius, I’m impressed. Who knew what was lurking under those worn-out jeans of yours?”

He gave her an uncomfortable smile, but walked to the bed, clambering onto it one knee at a time and lying down next to her. He moved his body half over the top of hers, and looked down at her, lying underneath him. He reached right down to the hem of her nightgown and pulled it up slowly, watching, fascinated, as her body was fully revealed to him. He gently tugged the gown over her head, dropping it to the floor.

His breath caught in his throat, and she could hear him beginning to breathe more quickly, more deeply. He reached out a tentative hand and ran it over her stomach and onto her breasts, palming her nipples and making her breath catch too.

Suddenly his mouth was on hers, kissing her hungrily until she pushed him away to gasp some air into her lungs. He lay fully on top of her, running his hands desperately over every inch of her body, starting to pant as he did so. She was returning the favour, beginning to learn the contours of his lightly muscled torso.

She felt his lips next to her ear. “You’re beautiful. Perfect. Gorgeous.” He smiled down at her. “I never let myself think of you and me being together like this, Y/N, cos I never thought it’d happen.”

He kissed her again, trailing his lips down her neck and onto her collarbone, placing small kisses all along it. She could now feel how aroused he was, his erection pressing insistently against her thigh.

“And now we’re married, that is how it’s gonna be. I can have you in my bed every night, love you where and whenever I want. I can’t believe my luck.” He laughed, a low, self-deprecating sound. “I might’ve told myself that I loved you in a brotherly way, but clearly.... you now know that’s not the case.”

“Hmmm,” Y/N pondered, “I think you may have a point. I think I might’ve been mirroring your thoughts, Sirius.”

“So.... does this mean we’re now saying we’re dedicated fans of arranged marriages?”

They both laughed.

He kissed her deeply, sensually sliding his tongue into her mouth. She kissed him back, the kisses growing gradually more and more passionate.

Eventually Sirius stuttered, “Y/N! I... I think... I’m gonna...”

Y/N looked up at her handsome husband and pulled his head down to hers for a kiss. She took him into her arms and pulled his hips against hers.

“C’mon, Sirius, let’s explore these pastures new together,” she whispered to him.

He nodded, “Yes... let’s, love,” thumb brushing over her bottom lip, up and onto her cheekbone.

*********************************************

Sunlight streaming through the french windows woke them the next morning.

They were still tangled up together, and it felt good, felt so right.

The two of them gazed into each other’s eyes in the golden early morning light. The smiles on both of their faces were as bright as that sun.

He stroked a strand of hair off her cheek, she ran her fingers over his strong jawline.

The first of many, many such mornings.

*********************************************

#sirius black x reader #ben barnes #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine

[ultraviolet-techno-ecology]

One of the tension points in decolonization that has never sat right with me (see Tuck and Yang (2012)) is that there seems to be a levying of colonial blame on black descendants of enslaved Africans. We did not choose to come here. We were abducted by the millions. Our ties to our Mother--as Sadiya Hartman puts it--was severed. We were forced to make a new one through the Middle Passage and the hellish inferno of chattel slavery. So where would we go, as Tuck and Yang seem to demand? Why blame us and not the white slavers who forced us to come here? We have no place to call our own, except for the small enclaves such as Harlem. But that is stolen land.

(Part 2) But that's from like a single article. I'm not exactly sure how indigenous people reconcile legacies like that over stolen land. So I am genuinely trying to understand how it's dealt with. Especially since my work has been on black urban anthropology and the right to stay (vis-à-vis gentrification and 'bleaching' in Central Harlem). =============================================

TW: SHOAH Alright so back in WW2, a very wealthy Jewish family is pulled from their western European estate and executed in the streets by SS. You might even say that in a sick way - that it was a courtesy. They were spared the camps in the east. The only survivors are those who were away representing the family on foreign business matters. 

On the other side of the world, obscure mixed race siblings hear about the approach of Japanese forces closing in on the Dutch East Indies. Their father is a high ranking member of the colonial government (A direct descendant of a Governor-General whose legacy is the bloody conquest of Jakarta and the establishment of the capital city Batavia), their mother is one of the many slaves in his possession - they are deemed to be neither Dutch nor Indonesian, they are Indo, a thing treated as both between and neither. I even have a great-aunt who was permanently disabled when the ship attempting to escape to Australia was categorically rejected - rejected because the Australian government did not consider them to be White. The USA was one of the only countries which permitted the more obviously mixed race Indo people shelter and even then it was conditional to the idea that Indo people had been in proximity to the colonial government enough to be White-Like. 

I’m describing my family just before they came to the USA seeking shelter where they were greeted with poverty and alienation as Others. Foreigners who were not seen as white in that historical time period. Yet still very priviledged to escape at all. 

So with that background in mind - It’s easy to see how someone like myself would be very uncomfortable with the idea that the answer to colonialism is simply telling every non-indigenous person to leave the continent and find somewhere else to live. To share equal blame for atrocities that happened at the hands of those who oppressed us. 

Like many Africa-Americans there is no “Home” that I could return to. I have no known surviving family in Europe - and as a secular person Yisroel or Indonesia would be as foreign to me as the Ivory Coast to the descendants of American slavery. Things are complicated even further when my whiteness is entirely conditional - even the whiter part of my American family going as far as to see my particular branch as impure blood. 

So what is my relationship to decolonization? I’m of the opinion that the conditions of my arrival do not in any way change the fact that the US (+Canada and others, but I’m specifically speaking from a US perspective.) government has no authority to grant residential permission for my inhabitation. Now I’m sure some people would be bothered by my de-racialization of the decolonization project - but to me that’s the real issue that stifles conversations about the subject. It’s like you say - we need to focus on the white colonizers and the largest force in colonization comes from the US government itself. 

That is - in my opinion - where the blame must be made. I’m an impoverished nobody with a blog, I will never own property and at times I’ve been literally homeless since even my immediate family disowned me for being LGBT and disabled. I have no meaningful way - nothing to give back - no impactful power - as an individual to decolonize the USA. My death or absence in this hour would probably be a step backwards because at the very least I am a voice that advocates for those who are ignored. I am - despite everything I have said - someone who had the priviledge to not specifically face the post-apocalyptic horror that native Americans experience every day. 

I strongly believe that to completely racialize the subject of decolonization is a foolish error that promotes far right thinking of blood purity and similar subjects - a dangerous error that will particularly harm mixed race people as my family personally experienced in both the Dutch and Japanese occupation of the diverse islands now lumped together into the Indonesian monolith.

To fight for justice - for the African, Jewish, Hispanic, Asian, Pacific Islander, Middle Eastern, every flavor of oppressed people and most importantly of all for this specific conversation - the indigenous people of North America... it means opposing the actual people who wield the power to declare the If, When, and How justice will even be permitted let alone manifested. 

#tw shoah #tw genocide #colonization #decolonization

[sarcastic-sunshines]

ABIONA AU - PART 10

Pairing: T’ Challa x Black!Reader

Warning(s): None

Link to ABIONA by @aloevverified

Link to Face claims (2)

Previous Chapter: Part 9

Part 10

Alix looked over at T’Challa who was moving side to side as he tried to calm his nerves with the sight of the Royal Talon descending. Alix moved closer to him while balancing Abiona on her hip and put her free hand in between his which he had behind his back. He turned to look at her comforting smile and as usual, her face was enough to calm his nervous heart.

“Thank you entle”

“No need to thank me for doing my job,” She said kissing him as Jules ran to stand next to his sister out of breath. “Jules you are late, where have you been?”

“Relax sis, I am here now, plus I had to help Zemora carry some boxes back to her house”

“I thought Aneka was going to help her. Why were you even there?” Jules looked at T’Challa for help.

“Entle, it doesn’t matter if he is here now, no?” Alix looked at T’Challa suspiciously.

“Since when does Jules’ tardiness not bother you”

“Since the Talon has landed and I would love it if we all had smiling faces” T’Challa continued to smile as he put his hand around her waist as Alix turned to face the opening ship after saying “ Fine. I know you two are hiding something and I will find out.”

“Yeah have fun with that Sis. Maman! Vous m'avez manquée,” Jules said after going to hug his mother.

“Tu m’as manqué aussi mon fils. Tu est bien?” Estelle replied holding her son’s cheeks to absorb all the contact she had missed for the past two and a half months. “You look tired? Are you sleeping?”

“He is too busy carrying boxes” Alix whispered loud enough for only Jules and T’Challa to hear, causing Jules to glare in her direction. “Bonjour Maman” Alix said, pushing Jules out of the way to hug her mother.

“Ca va ma belle? You on the other hand look amazing. I see Wakanda is treating you well, you are glowing. You aren’t pregnant, are you?

“No!” T’Challa answered as he saw Tolu slowly approaching the group but close enough to hear the conversation.

“ Hello T’Challa, I am only kidding, come here and give me a hug” T’Challa smiled genuinely and realized that he was so busy with his nerves that he had forgotten how glad he was to see Estelle, he even was a little happy to see Tolu. Estelle patted his cheek as she normally did.

“How was the flight?”

“It was good! A bit rocky but you have a very beautiful country T’Challa. I cannot wait to see the rest”

“And I can’t wait to show it to you” Tolu finally joined the group and hugged his children, before reaching for his grandchild who giggled excitedly at the sight of her grandparents. “I have missed you so much chouchou. You have gotten so big and even more beautiful. Video call does not do you justice. I hope your parents are appreciating the time they have with you and not trying to give you siblings” Tolu looked directly at T’Challa as he spoke.

“Papa, Maman was only kidding. I am in no way pregnant or anywhere close to it. Let’s go in now so you can rest before dinner” Tolu held his daughter’s hand.

“Okay Bukola” Alix looked back at T'Challa, reminding him to calm down and breathe. T’challa tried to do just that. Ayo came to stand next to him as everyone walked ahead.

“ I must say Kumkani, it is very interesting to see you shiver in fear of a single man” Ayo chuckled

“ I am not shocked you are able to find the humour in my despair”

“ Are you going to ask him today?” Ayo asked, turning to face him.

“ Yes, right after dinner. I am hoping that will relax him”

“Yes, I think so too. However, my King, I suggest not drinking tonight. You know how you act when your nerves kick it”

“Eh, eh, eh, I know, don’t say it too loud. I don’t want the other Doras to hear” Ayo smiled as they walked to meet the groups

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

Ramonda had decided to host dinner for Alix’s parents the first night they arrived. She knew how nervous her son was to have them here and she wanted to help him in any way. She was also excited to see Estelle. The two were quite friendly with each other since the baby shower so the two women had no issue discussing everything under the sun. T’Challa admired them from the other side of the table as he and Alix shared a look. Everything seemed to be okay and if they could just continue for a few more hours T’Challa would ask for nothing else.

“Ramonda this meal is delicious, Everything tastes so fresh. Really you will have to give me the recipe.” Estelle praised

“Cherie, you may want to ask the chefs instead” Estelle frowned at her husband as Jules tried not to laugh across from his mother.

“Actually Tolu, I made everything on this table today. When my son told me you all were coming I dusted off my old cooking skills. But evidently, they are not that rusty because you went for seconds.” Ramonda said with a smile.

“Mama with the subtle comeback. I like it! Ouch!” T’Challa kicked his sister on the table causing the pair to glare at one another.

“Ahem... so Shuri, T’Challa, how has my Jules been at his new job? Has he invented anything interesting?” Shuri laughed

“Jules doesn’t invent anything” T’Challa glared at her again “ But that is because he is so busy doing research on the biomedical effects of vibranium in certain western medicines.”

“We thought it would be best to start him at something he was used to” Jules nodded asking T’Challa to go on knowing his mother had a soft spot for him. “His research has been useful in creating different strains and we are moving towards the testing process. He has been a nice addition to the lab.”

“You can always tell when French toas- I mean Jules has been in the lab” Shuri said with the fakest smile on her face.

“That is good to hear Julianus. I am glad to see you finally put your life together. Isn’t that right Tolu” Estelle said reaching for his hand.

“Yes, it is nice to see Mayowa be serious about something for once in his life.”

“That is not true, I was serious about that world trip and I got that too” Jules said leaning back into his chair. His father laughed knowing he had missed his son’s antics.

“Fair point. And what about you Bukola? How does teaching suit you?” Alix put down her fork and turned to her father.

“I actually really enjoy it, Papa. It’s kept me busy, but I didn’t realize it would be something that I like being able to share that aspect of myself. I wish you all could stay longer than a week so you could sit into one of my Yoruba classes and they could hear it from a native speaker.” Tolu smiled.

“You are just as good as a child who grew up in Lagos don’t worry”

“Sorry, but why are you all only staying for the week? There is so much to see and do Estelle.” Ramonda asked.

“Well unfortunately some of us have work they apparently could not skip” Estelle responded with an eye roll.

“I came to see if my family was okay, and they seem to be so my stay should not be too long.”

“Well I will be coming back soon so keep your cookbook ready and you have to take me to where you get all these beautiful garbs. Alix had sent me some and all the ladies from church were stunned” the two women laughed as everyone started to get up from the table. T’challa turned to Jules and they made conversation with their eyes with Alix watching suspiciously.

“ You two still keeping secrets T’Challa”

“No entle,” He said, kissing her cheek knowing she didn’t believe him. Jules walked over to the pair with his father.

“T, why don’t you take Papa and me on that palace tour and to see where you keep all the treaties and things”

“Yes of course”

“Oh sounds fun! Can I come?”

“NO!” Jules and T’Challa yelled at the same time. Causing Tolu and Alix to look at them strangely

“Entle, why don’t you go spend time with your mother, she won’t really be interested in this type of tour. And Abiona is going to fall asleep soon. Please” He ended with a nervous smile

“Fine, but whatever the two of you are hiding will be revealed.” She said slowly walking away

“Just go! For once please” Jules groaned

“I see your strange mannerisms has continued T’Challa. And to think I thought it was only the French air.” T’Challa sighed

“ They have reduced sir, I promise,” T’Challa said, starting to exit the dining hall with the father and son behind him knowing that Alix was watching them very closely.

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

T’Challa led everyone into his office. The tour of the palace had gone well and for once Jules was actually a useful buffer between the two. T’Challa had caught Tolu up with the Nigerian agreement and he was still as impressed as he was a few months ago as well as commenting and adding ideas to other things T’Challa had going on. Everything seemed to be going right.

“Would you like some scotch sir? Holding the bottle of Tolu’s favourite brand.

“Hmm, interesting. You remember what I liked. I am on vacation after all. “ Tolu lightly joked as T’Challa poured the drink for the both of them.

“Where is mine?” T’Challa looked up at Jules reminding him of the plan. “Oh right! Um Papa, I just remembered that one of the plants I have to record in the lab. I will be right back. I can show you the progress tomorrow when it is open for full access”

“Okay, do not be too long” Jules exited the room leaving the two men to stare at one another. T’Challa began to fidget and reached for his drink, however he remembered what Ayo said and took the tiniest of sip. He instead looked for comfort by looking at the picture on his desk of Alix looking at a smiling Abiona in her crib . Tolu noticed and looked around noticing that the whole office was decorated with pictures of the two including Abiona’s ultrasounds. T’Challa finally pushed his thoughts away and raised his eyes to meet Tolu’s.

“You have quite a few pictures of Abiona in here” T’Challa looked around and smiled before answering.

“Yes, it is hard not to. She has taken over my world” T’Challa looked back at Tolu “ Mr. Ajayi sir, I have something that I would like to ask you” Tolu’s face immediately returned to the serious form that T’Challa was used to receiving, but he would not let that deter him today.

“Ever since meeting your daughter, my life has only improved for the better. I have been in love with her for a long time, and I only saw that love grow with the birth of Abiona and every day since then has been amazing.” T’Challa smiled as he spoke.

“You have truly raised an intelligent, beautiful, fierce, independent and loving woman. And being with her has made me realise I do not want to spend a moment without her.” T’Challa reached under his desk and pulled out the ring and placed it on the table for Tolu to see.

“ She truly is the owner of my heart and because of her I sit across from you and tell you that I would love to marry Alixandre and I would only feel comfortable doing so with your blessing. So I am asking if there is any way you can give me your blessing to ask for Alix’s hand in marriage?”

T’challa looked at Tolu’s face as he analyzed the ring. Tolu finally lifted his head to look at T’Challa.

“No” T’Challa felt his heart sinking.

“C-Can I ask why?”

“I do not believe that you are what Bukola needs in her life. Since you’ve entered it you have been a distraction and led her away from the path she had envisioned for herself. I am not sure if she is with you out of convenience or if she is actually happy. And I cannot give you my blessing unless I am sure she is really happy. “

“I know this is not the life that she had planned, trust me when I say this was not my plan for myself either. But I know that if you ask she will tell you that she is happy in this relationship. And though we argue just like other couples, I can promise when you ask her she will tell you that she is just as happy as I am. And if asking her will change your mind, I urge you to please ask her and reconsider.” As T’Challa finished Jules opened the door abruptly. T’Challa immediately closed the ring and slipped it back under his desk.

“Look who I bumped into and forced me to bring her here though I repeatedly told her no” Alix entered the office and looked around.

“Be quiet Jules. What are you all doing here anyways. Acting like a secret organization” T’Challa looked at Tolu.

“This is just where we ended the tour Bukola and T’Challa offered us some drinks. Why all the suspicions?”

“No reason. Maman is looking for you.” Tolu got up ready to leave

“Thank you Bukola I was getting tired anyways. I think it is time for bed. Good night boys” Tolu said with his eyes lingering on T’Challa as he followed Alix out the door. Jules closed the door behind them and grabbed a glass before sitting across from a devastated T’Challa. T’Challa finally picked up his glass and drank the whole content.

“So I am going to assume it did not go well” T’Challa shook his head.

“What happened?” T’Challa explained everything that was said to Jules who felt bad for T’Challa.

“Well T, for what it is worth you have my blessing” T’Challa allowed himself to laugh with Jules.

“Hopefully he actually asks her while he is here.” T’Challa shook his head in agreement.

“Well, now we can focus on how I am going to ask Zemora out. What did you think of because I have nothing.”

"I too have nothing. I was busy worrying about this and plus every other idea I have given you has gone to waste because of your nerves” Jules frowned.

“Cut me some slack, she makes me nervous. I thought you of all people would understand. You are mean when you are sad.” T’Challa tuned Jules out trying to think of ways he could convince Tolu he was the right one for Alix. He didn’t know what else he could possibly do but he hoped Bast showed him soon.

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

Alix watched as T’Challa quietly got into their bed. His mood had been a bit off since dinner and his refusal to talk with her was making her antsy. He pulled her into his chest and didn’t say anything.

“You okay?” She said peeking up at him as he rubbed her arm.

“Yes, it has just been a long day. So much energy”

“Are you sure, because I am all ears” T’Challa nodded

“So you don’t want to tell me what Jules and you have been up to since morning?” T’Challa smiled a little. He turned to kiss her before responding.

“Absolutely not” Alix frowned as he chuckled causing her frown to disappear as she playfully hit his chest. She got up and sat across his lap

“Well since you are in a better mood,” She said as she kissed his lips and jawline. T’Challa calmly grabbed her hands causing Alix to stop and share her look of confusion with him.

“ Entle, as much as I completely enjoy what you are doing, I am not in that good of a mood and more importantly your father is just down the hall” Alix rolled her eyes.

“Babe you’re kidding, right? These walls are literally soundproof. And they are asleep” T’Challa’s face didn’t change. “Why are you being such a baby” She mocked as she pinched his cheek.

“I am not being a baby, the man already believes that I have brought you here to have you barefoot and pregnant in my kitchen so I don’t want to give him any more ideas please.” Alix realized how serious he was.

“Did Papa say something to you when you were in your office? And don’t lie” T’Challa closed his eyes and sighed before regaining eye contact with Alix.

“I know this is not how you envisioned life going for you but,” He closed his eyes again feeling overwhelmed with emotion. Alix rubbed his arms soothingly

“But what?”

“You are happy right? “ Alix looked at him confused. Her normally wordy lover was struggling to formulate a single sentence

“Of course”

“No, I mean, are you truly happy with me. Do I make you happy? Does the life we have here fulfill you? Am I what you need?”

“Where is this coming from? What did Papa say? Or is this because I won’t talk about marriage?”

“That is not important. Can you answer please”

“T’Challa of course I am happy. Trust me I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Trust me. My life here is not what I had planned but it has given me more joy than I think I could have imagined. I love teaching and because of you, I have discovered it. I am excited to go back to work full time and the projects I am going to be working on excite me. I love coming home to you and Abiona. I love that she is a symbol of our love and I could not imagine my world without her. I love how fiercely you love her and that you are not afraid to show it. I love that you have conversations with her like she is a grown person who can offer you any advice” T’Challa chuckled into her shoulder as he put his hands around her waist

“And I love being in your arms and receiving your warmth and love. I love that you have made mundane activities like staying at home exciting for me. I don’t know where these doubts are coming from but just know I am very happy here and I do not want to be anywhere else okay.”

“Okay,” T’Challa whispered. She kissed him softly.

“I love you T’Challa”

“I love you too Alix. More than you know. Can we go to sleep now?” She nodded as she got off his lap and reached for her Kimoyo beads to turn off the lights.

T’Challa pulled her in super close and she picked up his hand to kiss it. She wasn’t sure what had rattled him today, but she hoped he knew how much he meant to her. The life they had created was more than she could really ask for and though they had their issues she loved coming home to him every day. She didn’t like that he felt unsure of their relationship. That had never happened before and she didn’t want it to happen again. He was her sure-footed partner and she needed his certainty and confidence to be the wall that blocked out her doubts. So she closed her eyes and hoped that whatever was putting these thoughts in his head would be replaced with her words of assurance.

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

#t'challa x reader #t'challa #ABIONA AU #PART 10 #sunshinewrites

[jovialyouthmusic]

Past Times

John ponders on the loss of his first wife. Elizabeth spends some time with her prospective mother in law, and all await the arrival of more guests.

Word Count 3417

A/N Just a short word on breakfast and the Scottish setting. I was expecting that something like a very meaty ‘Full Scottish’ would be on the menu in such a refined household, but in Regency times bread and cakes were served, along with tea and drinking chocolate. I took the liberty of adding oat cakes as a reference to the Scottish setting. I haven’t made any attempt  on the Scots dialect or accent, feeling that the upper echelons of society would have very refined accents, as Edinburgh people do to this day.

10 Settling in

John watched as Lizzy left the drawing room with her chaperone. Once he was alone, he found himself conflicted. He was captivated by his fiancée, but talking of his dear departed wife stirred up old memories and feelings he thought he had put aside. The day had been long and full of joy, but he knew he would not sleep as deeply as he might otherwise. He called Scott to fetch him the brandy bottle, and poured himself a measure, dismissing him for the night after praising his work and asking him to pass that praise on to the rest of the staff.

Outside the sun was setting on the long summer day, and he thought better of taking a stroll. Instead he took his glass to the library and stood at the window as the light faded. It looked out in the same direction as his fiancée’s, and he wondered if she too looked out over the garden, or whether she had laid her head on the snowy pillow of her lonely bed, as he would soon. Had he tried to move on from grieving for Georgiana too soon? Had he laid her ghost to rest or would she forever haunt him? He shook his head pensively, gazing down at his glass to find it empty. He decided that more alcohol was not the answer, and he should attempt to sleep. On the morrow his good friend Tom and his wife would arrive, and introductions would be made, and all would acquaint themselves and hopefully settle into a lively but harmonious party. After that there would be various dinners and balls and other amusements – some held at Laxton, and others at neighbouring estates.

Leaving his glass on the desk, he left the room and ascended the great staircase, turning right to his chambers where Lizzy would have turned left. He paused for a moment before continuing, and once in his room, disrobed and slipped between the bedsheets. He lay on his back staring at the canopy of the hangings, expecting to be awake for some time, but sleep came swiftly.

He dreamed of Georgie, barefoot and running over the sands of Portobello, wind in her hair and a soft smile on her face. He walked along the margin of the sea, the waves trickling cold water over his bare toes. She came to him, and caught at his arm, walking beside him. He did not break his stride, for her hand had little weight and no warmth.

‘You are sad, beloved’ she said quietly.

‘I thought we had a lifetime together, my darling Georgie’ he replied ‘but you are gone, and just a dream’

‘My memory will always be with you’ she replied ‘but you are free to love another. I am just a shadow, a thought. Your new love is warm and real’ The featherlight weight of her arm fell away from his, and he stopped walking to look at her. She was carrying a sleeping infant in her arms. ‘I have our sweet babe with me. I am so sorry you never met him’ she said sorrowfully ‘But you have a chance to have another – and more’

‘I have your blessing?’ he asked

‘Of course, pining for me will only make you unhappy. Let go, and think of me tending our child, You are free to love your new sweetheart.’

‘I will remember you – on the day of your death each year’

‘If you wish. I would prefer it be the day of my birth, but it is your decision’ He smiled sadly

‘I can remember you both on the day of your passing’ he replied

‘Then let it be so. Farewell John, do not weep. Take comfort in your new love, for I am sure she will understand’

John sat upright in bed, the echo of Georgie’s word in his ears. He longed to go to Elizabeth and tell her how much he loved her, but propriety dictated when and where they might meet. On the morrow he thought he would have little chance to be alone with her, so he lay back and thought of ways to tell her of his feelings.

-------

Elizabeth woke to an odd noise. She was sure she could hear someone outside her door – a soft scuffle as if of stockinged feet was followed by a quiet rustling sound, and she opened her eyes sleepily to see a piece of paper had been pushed under her door. Looking at the light starting to creep around the margin of the heavy curtains, she surmised that her maid, Jane, would be there soon and would discover the note.

She felt a thrill of excitement, sure that it was a love token from her beloved. She got up, wrapping her dressing gown around her shoulders to retrieve the note and took it back to bed with her.

My dearest Elizabeth

In case you were in any doubt, please be assured that you have made me a very happy man. My love for you is genuine and enduring, and I cannot wait to make you my wife. The days to come will be busy and challenging and we may not get a lot of time to ourselves, but I am certain that all who meet you will see what a wonderful and accomplished young woman you are. I feel myself privileged to know your true nature, and hope that I can prove myself worthy of your esteem. I shall leave a token of my love where you may find it every day of our engagement – look tonight in your bedchamber and know that you will be in my thoughts as I lay my head on my pillow and close my eyes, hoping to dream of you.

Your truest love

John

She sighed with happiness, holding the letter to her bosom, and fancied she heard more footsteps in the corridor. Swiftly she lay down and pulled the covers over her, hiding the letter under her nightgown as a soft knock announced Jane’s arrival with warm water and towel for her to wash herself with. Entering, the maid moved swiftly to the nightstand, placing the jug safely there before opening the curtains with a cheery greeting.

‘Good morning Miss Elizabeth, the weather is fine. Master John’s housekeeper bids me ask if you slept well and if there is anything she may do to make you more comfortable’ Elizabeth sat up, stretching and blinking in the light that flooded the room.

‘I slept very well, and I can think of nothing I need’ she replied ‘The room is most agreeable.’ Jane’s eyes widened

‘Why Miss – you still wear your wrap – were you cold? I will ask for more blankets’ She blushed and thought quickly.

‘I rose in the night to answer a call of nature – I must have forgotten to remove it. Please do not trouble the housekeeper, the night was warm enough’ she replied, hating to tell a falsehood, but wanting to conceal her letter. She had indeed risen to pass water in the night and return the chamber pot to its place of concealment.

‘Let me see to that right away, Miss’ Jane replied, and went to reach under the bed. ‘If you have no pressing need for it’ she added hastily.

‘Not at the moment, Jane’ she replied, and took the maid’s absence as an opportunity to hide her letter away in her trunk, concealing it in a box of letters that she took with her everywhere. She poured the warm water into the basin on the nightstand and washed herself, and when Jane returned, Elizabeth told her what outfit her mother had thought suitable for the day. She laid it out, and went to fetch Amelia so the sisters could dress together.

Some little time later, the two of them descended to the dining room for breakfast, to find John already there, and Morag sitting eating at the table. He bowed to them both, then went swiftly to Elizabeth’s side to kiss her cheek.

‘Good morning Amelia – my dear Lizzie.’ He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Mother is taking breakfast in her room this morning, and asks that you attend her when convenient.’

‘Oh!’ Elizabeth said in surprise ‘It would be my pleasure. As soon as I have eaten, I will do so. Where does she wish to see me?’

‘I suggest you take a short turn around the garden with me to settle your digestion before you go to her’ John replied ‘We can send a servant to discover the place you are to go to, for I know not what her wishes are’ At this moment, Sir James and his wife entered the room. Amelia was already helping herself to oat cakes, butter and preserves, and stopped to greet them before taking her plate to sit at the table next to Morag.

‘Sir James, Lady Charlotte’ John said ‘I hope you found your room comfortable’

‘We did, thankyou’ her mother replied ‘Though I had almost forgotten how quiet it is in the country. We have been in the town for quite some time, and there is always noise from carriages and tradespeople’

‘I know just what you mean – excepting the Cockerel’s call in the morning’ John smiled ‘You should be grateful that father could never abide peacocks, for they make the most unearthly sounds you could imagine’

‘Oh, the Beaumonts have those’ Amelia interjected ‘You would think someone was being murdered. The first time I heard one my blood ran cold, even though I was warned’ Lady Margaret shivered

‘Indeed, it is fortunate’ she replied

‘Please help yourself to food’ John said ‘If there is anything else you wish for, please ask and I’ll send word to the kitchen’

The sideboard was laden with various cakes and breads, and a servant entered the room with fresh toast, having been told that all had assembled to eat. There was yellow butter from the farm and a selection of preserves. To drink there was not only tea, but chocolate, and the family set to doing it justice. Before long Elizabeth had finished, and turned to her mother.

‘Mother, Lady Margaret wishes me to attend her this morning, but I shall take a turn around the garden first’

‘I have proposed a walk for the digestion’ John said ‘Remember, my friend Tom and his wife shall arrive today, but I think they will not arrive before luncheon. You are free to accompany us, or visit any part of the estate that you wish.’

‘Tell my John, is there a newspaper to be had?’ Sir John asked ‘If there is, I shall take it to the study, or select a book to read from the library’

‘May I take a look at the library too?’ Amelia asked

‘The paper should have been delivered already’ John replied, and summoned Scott to check ‘And of course you may take a book, Miss Amelia. You must, as I said before, treat this place as your home.’ Lady Charlotte said that she and Morag would go and look in the greenhouses and the flower garden, leaving the lovers some little time alone before Elizabeth attended John’s mother, and she sent Jane to fetch a shawl against the cool of the morning air.

The betrothed couple strolled amongst the flower beds close to the house. Elizabeth took John’s arm.

‘What might your mother want with me?’ she asked ‘Do you think I am properly dressed?’

‘I am sure she just wants to get to know you’ John smiled ‘Do not be afraid, I believe she already likes you – who could not? As to your dress, as a man I only understand that you look beautiful. The niceties and details of dress do not make a lot of sense to me’

‘Can we be observed from the house?’ she asked in a low tone as they carried on along the gravel path. John smiled.

‘If you wish for a private spot, there is an arbour but a few steps away where prying eyes will not see’ he replied ‘Though we should not linger too long.’

‘Will it afford us time for a kiss?’ she asked ‘I am hungry for your lips’ John chuckled

‘What have I awoken in you, Lizzy? I suggested this walk to calm you before you went to see Mother’

‘I will be calm afterwards, I promise. I declare that otherwise I will only be counting the moments until our lips meet again, and will be distracted’

‘Very well Lizzy, you have convinced me that it is necessary’

‘Necessary?’ she asked ‘Do you not feel the same need? It is not necessary, but essential’

‘I crave to be alone with you constantly, my dear’ he affirmed ‘But I must needs be cautious that we are not imprudent. One of us must be on their guard’ By this time they had come to a niche in the yew hedge, where the foliage had been trained to form a shelter for two persons. They stepped inside out of view of the house and he drew her to him. No sooner had he done so than she had eagerly lifted her face to his, and their lips met in a sweet lingering kiss. Reluctantly he drew away after a few moments.

I fear that is enough for now, Lizzy’ he said ‘Let us walk for a little longer, then I will send someone to tell mother you are ready’ Elizabeth sighed

‘Very well. I shall do my best to please her’

‘I do not think you will have to try hard’ John kissed her hand, and they started out along the path again.

------

It so occurred that Lady Margaret had not yet dressed for the day, and asked Elizabeth to go to her bedchamber. John took her to the threshold, where she knocked and waited to be admitted. Lady Margaret’s maid opened the door, and John blew her a silent kiss before she entered. The Duchess was sitting in bed, still attired in a nightgown and mob cap.

‘Miss Elizabeth, thankyou for indulging me’ she said. Her face was pale and she looked weary. ‘I fear I may not join your family before dinner time. I am fatigued, and company is wearisome.’

‘I’m so sorry to hear that, your grace’ Elizabeth replied ‘Would your doctor not give you a tonic? Mother sometimes takes one when she is indisposed’

‘I fear my affliction is of the nerves, not of the body, my dear girl. However, I wanted to get to know the girl who has brought the spark back into John’s eye’ She beckoned ‘Come, sit and talk to me’ Elizabeth drew near, and perched at the foot of the bed. There was a silence, and she wondered what they might talk of.

‘It is a pity you are unwell. The morning is fine and clear. John took me for a walk in the garden. I like the grounds of the house very much’ Lady Margaret smiled wanly.

‘It is a lot to manage, but the secret is to have good staff, and to treat them well. John’s father and I made sure that we knew every one of the servants and their family circumstances. I hope you will follow that example, and take an interest in their wellbeing. It will serve you well’ She smiled ‘There, I have told you the secret of our success already, and you have been here but a few minutes.’

‘I will be sure to follow your advice, Lady Margaret. You are too generous’

‘I hear that you were engaged to be married before you met John’ the duchess went on. Elizabeth fought to keep her composure, but the other woman laughed softly ‘The path to true love is not an easy one. As you know, John is a widower. His wife was a sweet girl, not well born, but he was determined to take her to him. We indulged him, and sometimes I wish I had not, to save him the sorrow he has borne’

‘I do wonder what she was like, and whether I can serve in her stead’ Elizabeth confessed.

‘My son does not give his heart easily, so I think you need not fear, my dear. I am pleased he has chosen someone so refined and well bred’ She coughed weakly and waved her hand to the dresser beside the bed. ‘My throat is dry - would you pass me a glass of water, my dear? If you wish for any refreshments I can send Betsy to the kitchen’

‘Thankyou Lady Margaret, I am not hungry, but I will take some water.’ She moved to pour two glasses and handed one to her. She sat forward to drink

‘If you could rearrange my pillows – and bring over the shawl you see on the back of the screens’ she asked, and Elizabeth did so, shaking the pillows out and placing them back behind the older woman. She took the shawl, wrapping it around her shoulders and sat back with a sigh ‘Thankyou, that is much more comfortable.’

‘Are you often indisposed?’ Elizabeth asked with concern ‘I hope you have a doctor with a good reputation’

‘Doctor Foster is a dear friend as well as an excellent physician. He covers the whole of the estate, and I have great faith in his skills.’ She settled further into the pillows ‘The death of my husband has affected me much’ She fixed Elizabeth with her gaze. ‘Such is the price of finding your soulmate’ she cautioned her ‘Sometimes I wish I were with my dear Walter’

‘Please Lady Margaret, do not say such things’ Elizabeth pleaded ‘You have much still to live for. Why, I would be devastated if you were not there when John and I are joined as man and wife’ She moved closer, and took her hand ‘You have much still to teach me, and I am sure you have many stories to share of family life’ The older woman smiled.

‘Thankyou my dear. Of course you will in time have children to carry on the family name, and I wish very much to be here to see that. If you are lucky, there is much joy to be had in married life, and I hope I have brought John up to be kind and considerate at the very least’

‘Indeed, he makes me feel very special. I rejected the suit of another when I learned that he had little respect for my sex, and less regard for intelligence.’

‘So that is the reason you broke off your engagement? I was told that the young man in question gambled heavily’ Elizabeth blushed, realising she had perhaps revealed too much to her prospective mother in law.

‘My father discovered that after I had raised my objections. I think I had a lucky escape’

‘You may be sure that John has no love of gambling or drinking heavily. His father often pointed out the dangers of such vices’ She sighed ‘I have kept you away from John, and soon you will have the responsibility of greeting visitors. You may go, my dear’

‘That is very generous of you’ Elizabeth paused at a thought that came to her ‘Lady Margaret, do you read much?’ she asked

‘I do, it is one of my pleasures’

‘Would you permit me to read to you? It might lift your spirits. Perhaps sitting outside in the fresh air would also improve your health.’

‘Bless you my dear, you will soon be too busy to indulge me, but perhaps Miss Amelia might be prevailed upon to read to me?’

‘I am sure she would be happy to do so. I will ask her straight away’

‘She need not come until after lunch, but only if she can be spared. I will take a nap now, for I slept little, and your visit has been most refreshing.’

‘I will be sure to ask one of the servants to check on you after we have eaten. I hope soon that you will feel well enough to socialise with your new guests’ Lady Margaret reached out and took Elizabeth’s hand with both of hers.

‘Thankyou so much for indulging me, Elizabeth. You will make a good Mistress for Laxton estate, I am sure of that now’ Elizabeth dropped a curtsey and left the room to go and find Amelia and tell her of her plans for her sister.

@sirbeepsalot​ @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria​ @dcbbw​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @katedrakeohd​ @trappedinfandoms​ @kingliam2019​ @nomadics-stuff​ @texaskitten30​ @princess-geek​ @fluffyfirewhiskey @kimmiedoo5​

#Past times #Elizabeth and John #Elizabeth Dalgeish #Captain Lykel #Captain John Lykel #regency drama #regency scotland

[taehyungphille]

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

AU: Mafia + Life Long Rivals

Genre: Angst|Romance|Slight Fluff|Smut

Rating: Censored|Rated 18+

Summary:Taehyung’s life long goal was to eradicate your family’s existence. He was clear to this purpose until you interrupted and proposed for a marriage instead.

AN: This contains a lot of sensitive issues, words and triggering scenarios. I’m warning you of the risks, it’s your choice anyway.

Prologue

“I’d marry you.”

Those were the words that left your lips by the moment you hit the ground. You can feel the eyes drilling through you, surprised gazes.

You were breathless, wheezing and desperate, both hands rested behind your head. “I’d be your wife, your woman. Make me do everything, I’d be your anything. I won’t ever protest, I swear.”

You begged on your knees, mud painting your trousers with deep, filthy brown color. Your eyes were red, hair sticking allover your face, drenched in the rain. Ever since you were formally introduced to this savagery, your family always chased victory after victory. You never knew anything about vanquish or fear, you were taught to always have the upper hand no matter what. However, it was your mother whom we’re talking about now. Her in the hands of the family that yours have always despised for ages. And here you are, defeated.

“No offense but who are you?” a man calmly said, he whom is on average height, leaning against an old tree as he wiped off the blood on his hands. All were curious. They looked at you like an odd. They were familiar of the members of your clan but not of you.

You had to do this. Even when they made you swear an oath to keep your identity out of the radar. Even when your father had to banish you from the land and spend your days in foreign countries. Even when your mother raised another child, a boy who had your place in the family for years. You had to do this .

“I’m Y/N” you softly spoke “I am the daughter”

There were gasps all around you. Surprise looks were printed on their faces.You mother closed her eyes shut as tears escaped from them. Her body trembled as she cried silently. This was the day she have always feared of coming, the day that you will be exposed as the one and only descendant of the Takahashi.

“So the here-says were true.” one man spoke up “That they’ve been hiding the true child after all this time?”

“They have a female successor?” the man leaning against the tree started walking up to you as he chuckled

“That doesn’t make me less than any man” you sassed back “I don’t need to have a penis to have the right to rule. Being a woman myself is so much more than all men here combined”

He stopped midway and replied “And yet you’re the one who’s kneeling and surrendering.” You kept a straight face. You didn’t let them know how a huge slap that was for you.

“But did I hear it right?” some other man exclaimed with a funny tone “The heiress is trading her body, for her mommy?” He laughed hilariously with dirty look on his face.The other men joined the monotonous laughter, all of them except for him.

He intently looked at you, brown eyes penetrating yours, as if he could see all of you. You never left his gaze to indicate the severity of your words. He should know that you are genuinely serious of the proposal.

“Is that a proposition?” He mockingly mumbled as he pressed the gun harder against the head of your mother; she shrieked. “You, my little angel, is willing to leave everything behind, enter my dominion, for the sake of this woman?”

You flinched with dreadful look on your face as you balled your fist against the back of your head “Yes, yes” you confessed desperately “You can have me, permanently. Just please, let her go.”

He watched you, sharp eyes, mouth slightly gaped with a little bit twitch of smirk. There was a brief silence until he slowly withdrew the weapon and walked towards your direction “Do I really look stupid to you, angel?” He sneered, as he knelt one knee and grabbed you by the neck, gently yet forcefully, enough to scare you yet enough to let you breathe.

“Did you think I’d want my heirs to have the blood of a traitor, a stinking, shameful DNA of yours?”

You couldn’t help but to sigh and roll your eyes. You planned to be nice , but your innate sarcasm just popped up somewhere and regretted it immediately “I asked you to marry me, not to bear your little versions, dumbass”

He was taken aback as he narrowed his eyes and his smile grew “So they’re right about your smart mouth” he said as he moved his fist higher, rested it on your cheeks and chin, gripped it a little hard to keep your mouth open then inserted his index finger. He pushed it further until you gagged and stumbled back.

“Please just take me, she has nothing to do with this” your mother exclaimed, gasping for air, hissing as the pain in her left flank continued to burn

“No, I won’t!” you stubbornly answered “I won’t let them touch you mother. I had no business nor any involvement in this long term hatred of our families, and neither are you.”

You returned your eyes back to the man in front of you. You kept the brave composure despite of the hole on your left abdomen “My father was foolish for being your ally, but he was more stupid when he betrayed his oath”

“At least this one got some sense” you heard someone said it but you never really shifted your gaze from the boss himself.

“I would fight you to death if that’s what you want. But know that I should not be taken guilty for my father’s sins. I might be his daughter, but never was his successor. I don’t intend on taking responsibility of his stupidity” you bellowed that the whole ground you are at fell silent. You continued “Yet, I’d be ignorant if I actually ask you for a fight. With my current condition and having my mother as your hostage, I’d rather throw away my pride than let her blood flood this place”

“How dramatic” a blonde girl interrupted your powerful little speech. She played her dagger soaked with blood of your comrades as if she’s holding a light pencil between her fingers. You shot her a look and she replied with pointing the knife to your direction saying “One word darling and this will stuck in your throat”

You walked through the dirt, holding your stomach as blood oozed from it “What else do you wish to fulfill? You’ve already killed my father, congrats you have also murdered Jungkook. You’ve basically eradicated most of us all, what else do you want?”

You were about to be intimidatingly close to him when your pain tolerance reached its threshold and you immediately slumped on the ground. You heard your mother call your name, then you heard the blonde girl screaming at her to shut her mouth or else she’ll blow her skull into pieces.

You turned your head towards your mother to see her state but the man blocked you. He grabbed your wrist and yanked you up, you pursed your lips to muffled the cry of pain from your cuts but tears started to pool in your eyes again.

“I want you all dead” he snickered “I want to wipe your history, I want you to vanish in this very Earth. I want to watch the colors in your eyes fade as you beg for mercy.”

He wasn’t a man, you thought. You knew him through stories of Jungkook. You were told that he’s animalistic and ruthless, you were told that he’s always angry and hateful. You were told that he’s speaks bullets and bombs, you were told that he never leave a battle with any survivor. However, you still find yourself shocked with his actual attitude, eyes wide in terror like how you reacted when you first heard about him at the age of 13.

The grip on your wrist slowly loosened “Even so,hearing your little stunt there rang an idea in my head” he pressed his palm hard over the cut on your stomach. You immediately fell unto his arms, clenched his suit and buried your face on the crook of his neck “And I asked myself, what do I gain from your proposal “

“Please Taehyung, let my child go, she’s-“ your mother couldn’t finish her words when the blonde girl quickly kicked her hard on the stomach

“Who and where on Earth did you get the permission to call him by his name huh?” yelled at her as she brought the knife close to her face

“Enough with that Minji, you’re being an overdramatic girlfriend now” the man whom you described by height dragged Minji away from your powerless mother

“Let me go Jimin!” She wriggled off of him yet he kept tugging her far from you.

You wanted to rush towards your mother. Tend to her, reassure her of safety and care, but then you can’t even get yourself stable, can’t even breathe properly, and can’t even let go of Taehyung as you held him as your temporary anchor keeping you from collapsing on the floor again. He didn’t mind at all, or that’s what you just wish to tell yourself.

Nobody spoke for minutes. Not one, until you slowly rose your head up looking at him, and gradually let go of your clutch on him. “What do you say?” your voice was rasp, obviously tired and drain.

“I say I accept your clever scheme” he tucked strands of your hair behind your ear. In a split of second, you almost convinced yourself that he’s endearing. “We’ll get married, but you’ll be just a wife. You won’t get my name and you won’t be allowed to use yours. You cut ties with all your connections around the globe. You are bound to obey my rules. You won’t be involved in our work. You won’t live with me.“ he gently rested a hand on your cheek and caressed it gently “In short, I’ll keep you alive but dead at the same time”

“And you will spare my mother.” You exclaimed as you politely knock off his hand against your skin, ignoring his threats and plans.

“You have my word, angel” he took a step back “You have my word” he took another stride backwards, towards your mother but kept his gaze on you. Crazy it may sound but you put a little faith on his words. He might be heartless but he sure is a man of word. You took a deep breath, glanced at your mother and mouthed “I love you”

That’s when she lost it. She started crying your name. Begging the heavens to save you. Asking the non-existing spirits for a miracle. Verbalizing apologies to you for letting you be in this situation. Cursing herself for being a worthless woman was.

You were about to alleviate her through words again when a sharp blow of punch on your stomach almost shattered your soul into pieces. You fell to the ground, yelped in pain, curled yourself as you struggle to regain your breathing. But then you saw the blonde woman folding a hanky and swiftly wrapped around your head, completely blinding you. You felt arms tucking you to the ground, hushing you down.

“Good girl” Taehyung’s voice was like a catastrophe enveloping your body, pricking thorns on your skin, webs entangling your head, smoke suffocating your lungs, and moments later you heard 3 gunshots, one last grunt and fading breath sounds from your mother.

Your cried so hard that the sky responded with a loud roar, and then everything went pitch black.

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #kim taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #bts angst #bts fic

[theradioghost]

So I’ve realized recently that I actually really really like podcasts when my audio processing isn’t acting up (thanks tma!) and was wondering what recs you have for completed podcasts. I’m cool with basically any genre and theme, though I would appreciate a warning for tragedy. Thanks for your time!

Of course! I’ll put this one under a cut just so the length is a bit less ridiculous.

Some of my favorite completed shows are

Wolf 359 – a scifi comedy about four squabbling coworkers on a malfunctioning, isolated space station which then takes a hard right into a spectacular, heartwrenching drama. Not a tragedy, but many tears are shed when listening. Probably one of the best podcasts out there tbqh.

Ars Paradoxica – a modern physicist accidentally invents time travel, landing her back at the start of the Cold War and changing the course of history forever. The creators literally described it as “a tragedy” and they weren’t lying, although the finale is sort of hopefully bittersweet.

The Hidden Almanac – a grouchy professor in a plague doctor mask offers bite-sized pieces of history and hagiography from his fantastical world as well as gardening advice, occasionally interrupted and/or dragged off on unwilling shenanigans by his tequila-loving accidental necromancer best friend coworker. Fantasy writer/artist Ursula Vernon and her husband put this 4-minute show out three times a week for SEVEN YEARS, and it’s funny and cozy and poetic and can be found in full here, as there are too many episodes for most podcatchers to display.

Alice Isn’t Dead – lesbian Americana road-trip horror. A cross-country trucker searches for her missing wife while monsters and conspiracies pursue her across the vast empty and abandoned spaces of America. Actually also exists in novel form.

The Bright Sessions – records from the office of Dr. Bright, a therapist who specializes in people with strange and secret abilities. However, her patients aren’t the only ones with secrets. Personally this show never completely absorbed me like some others did, but the character writing is genuinely amazing. The story obviously also deals a lot with mental illness and some other difficult topics and content.

Our Fair City – the eight-season saga of the inhabitants of a post-apocalyptic underground city ruled over by the remnants of an insurance company, featuring mole people, lightning-harvesting sky sailors, giant ants, and a found family of mad scientists among others. Part comedy, part drama, all anticapitalist satire. You kind of have to give it a couple of seasons to find its stride (this was one of the very first shows in the podcast-based audio drama revival) but it is absolutely worth it. Disclaimer that while I am on the final season of the show I have not quite finished it yet.

Jarnsaxa Rising – a unique scifi-fantasy hybrid, in which a vengeful Norse giantess escapes imprisonment with the goal of destroying the gods and bringing about Ragnarok, only to find herself in a post-climate-change dystopian future.

Glasgow Ghost Stories – a Scottish woman begins noticing the many ghosts inhabiting the streets of her city; but the ghosts have begun to notice her too, and not all of them are friendly. Pigeons are involved.

Big Data – an odd little heist comedy about a rogue journalist investigating a spectacular crime in which the “seven keys to the internet” are stolen, leading to a story about hacking in which no actual hacking is involved. There are two fun side notes to it: one, everything that happens in it could technically happen in real life. Two, it involves an absurd amount of cameos from other well-known podcasts (and also Taika Waititi?), which you don’t need to get to follow the story but which make it kind of hilarious on a whole other level when you listen to those shows.

I Am In Eskew – a surreal, intense, disturbingly poetic horror about a man trapped in a shifting, malevolent, impossible city, and a woman on the outside trying to find him. Extremely good but I do recommend thoroughly checking the trigger warnings on this one. (Surprisingly non-tragic finale, although not a typical “happy ending.”)

The Alexandria Archives – half comedy and half horror, in the form of a late-night radio show at Alexandria University, on the edge of North Carolina’s Great Dismal Swamp. Half of each episode is a standalone cosmic horror story set in and around the town of Alexandria. The other half features the antics of the university’s students, including the host MW and her friends who are definitely Canadian exchange students, and not a vampire hiding from his ex and a bunch of stranded space pirates. (A little goofy? Yes, but I love it a ton for all its faults anyway. Also, some of the short stories are genuinely terrifying.)

and also, some completed miniseries!!

The Tower – a gorgeous experimental audio drama in which a young woman decides to climb the mysterious Tower, from which no one ever returns.

Time:Bombs – a comedy by the folks who made Wolf 359 about a bomb disposal squad on New Year’s Eve, trying to survive their leader’s obsession with breaking a record.

They Say a Lot of Things – upon discovering that she can interact with a dropped tape recorder, the ghost of a young girl tells her story, interwoven with the stories of those who have passed through the abandoned house that she cannot leave over the years that she’s haunted it.

Podcaster A. R. Olivieri specializes in microfiction miniseries, ranging from scifi to experimental to fantasy. (Side note, a lot of his work crosses over with the still-running scifi podcast Girl In Space, but you don’t need to have listened to GIS to understand what’s going on in his shows.)

Nym’s Nebulous Notions – a self-declared investigative journalist decides to check out a mysterious SOS signal and finds herself on a mysteriously abandoned ship – or so she thinks. Arguably a tragedy, although not necessarily in the way you might think.

Palimpsest – technically not finished, but each season of this anthology makes up a complete 10-part story, and seasons 1 and 2 are complete. Season 1 is a ghost story about a woman who is suspicious about strange happenings in her new home and her odd new neighbors. Season 2 is a turn-of-the-century dark urban fantasy about a girl who escapes her career criminal mother’s house, taking a job as the companion to what her new employer claims is an imprisoned faerie princess. (Season 3 is ongoing and is about a codebreaker who begins seeing ghosts on London’s streets during the Blitz.) It’s a heartbreaking sort of show, albeit in a very beautiful and moving way.

The Details is a short piece about an office worker who goes in to negotiate for a promotion and finds himself negotiating with the devil himself instead. The number of genuinely surprising and excellent twists it packs into just 45 minutes is really fun.

The London Necropolis Railway – a really underappreciated little fantasy-mystery about a recently-dead detective who refuses to board the train scheduled to take her to the afterlife until one of its hapless employees helps her solve her supernatural murder.

Janus Descending – a scifi horror told in two intertwining perspectives, one in reverse order and one in chronological order, about two scientists who land on a remote planet to investigate the ruins of its lost civilization, only to encounter the thing that killed the former inhabitants. A fantastic story told in a really clever and unique way, but stamp a big old tragedy warning all OVER this one, although because of the structure you technically know how it’s going to end right from the start – what makes this show so good is how you get there. It will make you cry, though.

… and also my show, Midnight Radio, which is about lesbian romance, small towns, old radio shows, the good and bad sides of nostalgia, and ghost stories.

#Anonymous #asks #my posts #podcast recs #bobbie recommends things