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itslovethatsavesthem · 4 years

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The Cat Prince / Der Katzenprinz

So... hearing Caleb’s charming little Zemnian kitty fairytale, I couldn’t help wanting to translate it back to its “original” Zemnian.

Both the transcript and the translation (minus the stream’s interjections) are under the cut. If you have any suggestions on how to improve it (German is my native language, but there are bound to be some mistakes and rough spots in there!), feel free to poke away!

Story and translation under the cut:

The Cat Prince

Once upon a time in a little house on the edge of a great wide wood lived a young boy with his mother. The poor boy was sick, and spent much of his days in bed, watching the days pass by from a little window in his room. The boy's mother loved him very much, but as it was just the two of them, and the boy was ill of health and frail of form, every day she had to make the journey to town where she worked in the kitchens of the local lord. While she was gone, the boy would mind the house, read one of their precious few books, and observed the bees and the trees and the birds in their flight, as he spent the greater part of his time resting in bed.

The boy knew that his mother loved him, and that her time away was all for his sake, and he was grateful to her and loved her in return, but it was a lonely life, spending his days rereading some of the same books or talking to the air in their little home on the wood's edge.

One day, as the boy sat in bed, looking out at the fields that lay between his home and the woods, he noticed a cat making its way out of the forest. It was not long before the boy realized this cat clearly making its way toward his home was no ordinary cat, for upon his head he wore a little top hat. And if that were not strange enough on its own, as the cat pattered up beneath the boy's window, he stood, doffed his cap, took a bow and said, "Greetings, young master! You look as if you could use a bit of dancing!"

The boy, stunned by these words from the dapper little cat, could scarcely find his voice. "Oh no, sir," said the boy, "I don't know how to dance, nor am I made for it."

"Nonsense," said the cat. "Why, anyone can dance if only they look to. Come out of doors and let me show you." And as he spoke, the cat donned his hat, and began to turn in circles and to dance. The boy was curious, but said, "Good sir cat, I'm afraid I am ill. My lungs are too weak and my bones are too frail."

"Oh, maybe they are and maybe they aren't," the cat replied. "But either way, you do not want to languish one more day in bed, watching the world go by, do you? Come, take a walk with me through the fields, and I will show you how to dance."

Overcoming his doubts, the boy managed to climb down from his window and walk a few steps closer. This was no ordinary cat and no ordinary day, and though he felt unsure, his heart did leap a little, and he began to follow the marvellous little cat through the grass, slowly at first, but with more vigour as they crossed the fields. And eventually he found himself stepping under the shade of the woods for the first time in a great many years.

All the while the cat frolicked and capered as they wound their way deeper into the wood, and eventually the boy found himself stepping into a ring of trees. The cat, whirling about, his hat in hand, the furry little dancer twirled around the boy laughing and calling while the boy watched, his mouth agape. And then quick as a flash, the cat brought his tophat down right atop the boy's head, who was very suddenly plunged into darkness.

But only a moment, because all about him, shining in the dark, he saw the glow of hundreds of eyes - feline eyes, glimmering in the dark. Suddenly, about him, lanterns flared to light, and the boy saw he was no longer in a wood at all. Here, he saw a grand ballroom, festively decorated and filled to the brim with cats. Big cats, small ones, old cats, young ones, cats of every breed and colour, and in the center of the great hall upon a stage stood the boy's feline guide, only now he was dressed in very fine robes and upon his head sat a thin golden crown of wrought, golden leaves.

The boy stood in wonder and amazement as the great host of cats bowed to their prince, and then in turn bowed to him. "The world of men is heavy and hard," the princely cat proclaimed. "But here across the veil we move with lighter step. Dance with us, child, and forget your troubles for a spell."

All at once, scores of cats closed in around the boy, purring and turning about his legs as thick as the sea, and as they moved, so too did the boy's feet. He swirled amongst them like a cork on the water, and before he knew it, the boy was dancing. Dancing, and dancing, as he never imagined he could, and his breath, to his surprise, was hearty and hale. He found he no longer felt ill in the least.

Hours passed, and he and all the cats danced without end, and the prince of cats more than all of them. After a long while, the boy suddenly remembered his mother, and immediately feared she would worry. He stopped in the middle of the great hall and called out to the prince of cats, "Forgive me, sir cat, but I can no longer stay! My mother will worry! I have to return!"

All the cats parted before him, and the prince approached the boy. "Are you sure, boy? You could stay and dance for us for as long as you wish, forever and ever and ever."

"I cannot," the boy replied. "My mother has only me, and I would not leave her alone. Forgive me."

The prince of cats looked on the boy with a sympathetic eye. "Not at all, young one. Fear not a wit. You do your mother credit."

And with that the prince of cats stepped closer. "And do not look so crestfallen. Take our cats' grace with you. You can always dance if the will is there." And from behind his back he brought out his tophat again, and pulled it over the boy's eyes, and once again, all was dark.

Sometime later, the boy stirred, and his eyes fluttered open. He looked about and found he had been asleep in the wood, and the sun now dappled his face through the trees. Next, he noticed a threadbare, patched tophat lying in the soft grass beside him. He gingerly picked it up and stood within the same circle of trees. As he did so, he took a deep breath and smelled the earth and the forest, and as he did, he realized his breath was strong, and his legs hardy.

"Danke," he said, as he looked down at the hat in his hands, and placing it upon his head, he smiled, kicked up his heels, and quietly started to dance his way all the way back home.

The End

___________________________________________

Der Katzenprinz

Es war einmal in einem kleinen Haus an einem großen, weiten Wald ein Junge mit seiner Mutter. Der arme Junge war krank und verbrachte viele seiner Tage in seinem Bett, und sah die Tage an dem kleinen Fenster seines Zimmers vorbeiziehen. Die Mutter des Jungen liebte ihn sehr, aber da sie nur einander hatten und der Junge kränklich und zerbrechlich war, musste sie sich jeden Tag in die Stadt aufmachen, wo sie in den Küchen des Lehnsherren arbeitete. Während sie weg war, hütete der Junge das Haus, las eines ihrer wenigen, teuren Bücher, und er beobachtete die Bienen und die Bäume und die Vögel in ihrem Flug, als er die meiste Zeit in seinem Bett ruhte.

Der Junge wusste, dass seine Mutter ihn liebte, und dass ihre Abwesenheit nur für ihn war, und er war ihr dankbar und liebte sie ebenfalls, aber es war ein einsames Leben, wie er seine Tage damit verbrachte, dieselben Bücher wieder und wieder zu lesen, und in dem kleinen Haus am Waldrand mit der Luft zu sprechen.

Eines Tages, als der Junge in seinem Bett saß und auf die Felder hinausschaute, die zwischen seinem Heim und dem Wald lagen, bemerkte er eine Katze, die aus dem Wald kam. Es dauerte nicht lange, bevor der Junge bemerkte, dass die Katze, die offenkundig auf sein Heim zukam, keine gewöhnliche Katze war, denn auf ihrem Kopf trug sie einen kleinen Zylinder. Und als ob das an sich nicht schon seltsam genug gewesen wäre; als die Katze unter das Fenster des Jungen tapperte, stand sie auf, nahm den Hut ab, verbeugte sich, und sagte: "Seid gegrüßt, junger Herr! Ihr seht aus, als ob Ihr ein wenig Tanz vertragen könntet!"

Der Junge, von den Worten der adretten kleinen Katze verblüfft, konnte kaum seine Stimme finden. "Oh nein, mein Herr", sagte der Junge, "Weder weiß ich, wie man tanzt, noch bin ich dafür gemacht."

"Unsinn", sagte die Katze. "Jeder kann tanzen, wenn er es nur will. Kommt heraus und lasst es mich Euch zeigen." Und als er sprach, setzte die Katze ihren Hut wieder auf, und fing an sich im Kreis zu drehen und zu tanzen. Der Junge war neugierig, aber er sagte: "Guter Herr Katze, Ich fürchte, dass ich krank bin. Meine Lungen sind zu schwach, und meine Knochen sind zu gebrechlich."

"Oh, vielleicht sind sie das, und vielleicht auch nicht", antwortete die Katze. "Aber Ihr wollt doch wohl trotzdem nicht noch auch nur einen weiteren Tag im Bett dahinsiechen und die Welt vorbeiziehen lassen? Kommt, lauft mit mir durch die Felder, und ich werde Euch zeigen, wie man tanzt."

Als er seine Zweifel überwand, schaffte es der Junge, aus seinem Fenster herausklettern und einige Schritte näher zu treten. Dies war keine gewöhnliche Katze und kein gewöhnlicher Tag, und obwohl er sich unsicher war, hüpfte sein Herz ein wenig, und er fing an, der wunderbaren kleinen Katze durch das Gras zu folgen, zuerst langsam, aber mit mehr Elan als sie die Felder durchstreiften. Und schließlich trat er in die Schatten des Waldes, das erste Mal in vielen, vielen Jahren.

Die ganze Zeit tollte und sprang die Katze herum, als sich ihr Weg tiefer in den Wald schlängelte, und schließlich trat der Junge in einen Ring aus Bäumen. Die Katze, ein pelziger kleiner Tänzer mit dem Hut in der Hand, wirbelte um den Jungen herum, lachte und rief ihn, während der Junge mit offenem Mund zuschaute. Und dann, schnell wie ein Blitz, stülpte die Katze dem Jungen ihren Zylinder direkt über den Kopf, und er fand sich ganz plötzlich im Dunkeln.

Aber nur für einen Moment, denn allüberall um ihn herum, im Dunkeln leuchtend, sah er das Glühen von hunderten Augen, Katzenaugen, die in der Dunkelheit schienen. Plötzlich leuchteten Laternen um ihn herum auf, und der Junge sah, dass er nicht mehr im Wald stand. Hier sah er einen großen Ballsaal, festlich geschmückt und randvoll mit Katzen. Große Katzen und kleine, alte Katzen und junge, Katzen jeder Art und Farbe, und in der Mitte des großen Saales auf eine Bühne stand die Katze, die den Jungen geführt hatte, doch nun war sie in feine Gewänder gehüllt und auf ihrem Kopf saß eine schmale goldene Krone aus goldgewirkten Blättern.

Der Junge stand voll von Staunen und Verblüffung als das Heer von Katzen sich vor ihrem Prinzen verbeugte, und dann als nächstes auch vor ihm. "Die Menschenwelt ist drückend und mühevoll," sagte der Katzenprinz. "Aber hier jenseits des Schleiers bewegen wir uns mit leichterem Schritt. Tanz mit uns, Kind, und vergiss deine Sorgen für eine Weile."

Ganz plötzlich umschloss eine Menge von Katzen den Jungen. Sie schnurrten und umstrichen seine Beine so dicht wie das Wasser der See, und als sie sich bewegten, taten das auch die Füße des Jungen. Er trieb zwischen ihnen wie ein Korken auf dem Wasser, und bevor er sich's versah, tanzte er. Er tanzte und tanzte, wie er es sich nie hätte vorstellen können, und zu seiner Überraschung kam sein Atem stark und gesund. Er fühlte sich nicht mehr im Geringsten krank.

Stunden vergingen, und er und die Katzen tanzten ohne Ende, und der Katzenprinz mehr als alle anderen. Nach einer langen Zeit erinnerte sich der Junge plötzlich seiner Mutter, und sofort fürchtete er, sie würde sich sorgen. Er hielt in der Mitte des großen Saales an und rief dem Katzenprinz zu: "Vergebt mir, Herr Katze, aber ich kann nicht länger bleiben! Meine Mutter wird sich sorgen! Ich muss zurückkehren!"

Alle Katzen hörten zu tanzen auf und machten vor ihm Platz, und der Prinz kam auf den Jungen zu. "Bist du sicher, Junge? Du könntest bleiben solange du willst, und auf immer und ewig für uns tanzen."

"Das kann ich nicht", antwortete der Junge. "Meine Mutter hat nur mich, und ich möchte sie nicht allein lassen. Vergebt mir."

Der Prinz sah den Jungen mitfühlend an. "Aber nicht doch, Junge. Sorge dich nicht. Du machst deiner Mutter Ehre."

Und damit trat der Katzenprinz näher heran. "Und schau' nicht so enttäuscht. Nimm unsere Katzenanmut mit dir. Du kannst stets tanzen, wenn du den Willen hast." Und hinter seinem Rücken nahm er wiederum den Zylinder hervor und stülpte ihn dem Jungen bis über die Augen, und noch einmal wurde alles dunkel.

Etwas später erwachte der Junge, und seine Augen öffneten sich. Er sah sich um und merkte, dass er im Wald geschlafen hatte, und Sonnenstrahlen durch die Bäume auf sein Gesicht fielen. Dann bemerkte er einen abgetragenen, geflickten Zylinder, der im weichen Gras neben ihm lag. Er hob ihn vorsichtig auf, und stand in demselben Kreis von Bäumen, und als er so dastand bemerkte er, dass sein Atem stark war, und seine Beine fest.

"Danke", sagte er als er den Zylinder in seinen Händen ansah, und als er ihn auf seinen Kopf setzte, lächelte er, schlug die Fersen zusammen und fing still an, seinen Weg ganz bis nach Hause zu tanzen.

Ende

#critical role #caleb widogast #jester lavorre #widojest

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lostmousemaid · 3 years

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Return to St. Ninian’s

A Redwall fanfiction by Lost Mousemaid

Approx. 2,500 words

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

The multitude of freed slaves and rescuers had spent the duration of the day traveling north toward Redwall Abbey, but Matthias knew they would still be unable to make it to his home by nightfall. Matthias and Orlando discussed briefly whether to travel until they reached the Abbey later in the night, but Matthias decided against it.

“We should rest and return home first thing in the morning. There will be a great deal of excitement once we return, so we should all at least have had enough sleep.” Matthias smiled at Mattimeo and placed a paw on his shoulder. He found himself doing this often since they were reunited in Malkariss.

Orlando looked behind him at the creatures following in their wake. The woodlanders appeared much healthier since their rescue, but still they were thin and weary. Every meal he had shared with his daughter he had scooped an extra portion to her while she was glancing away. Still, she was much thinner than when they had shared their home in the mountains. “You make a fine point, warrior. I’m sure we will all enjoy the food from your legendary tables when we arrive in the morning.”

Matthias called to the woodlanders behind them, “My friends! We will travel north a while longer. When we reach the old church of St. Ninian’s we will settle there for the night. The building is running down, but it may be nice to have a roof over our heads tonight. We will return to my home Redwall in the morning, and you are all welcome to call Redwall home too.”

A cheer rose from the creatures at the knowledge that their journey would soon end. Elmtail and Sam spun in circles with excitement. Sam called to his new friend to climb a nearby tree with him to see if they could spot the Abbey from a distance. Jess smiled fondly at the pair as they scurried off the path and rushed up a nearby oak tree, their chattering fading into the foliage above them.

Matthias had seen Mattimeo’s carefree expression change upon mention of St. Ninian’s, but he did not press him at that moment. He motioned to Orlando to give him some space, and the warrior mouse pulled ahead of the group, knowing his son would follow his pace.

Once they were out of range and could not be heard by those behind them, Matthias asked, "What’s the matter, Matti?”

Mattimeo opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it firmly. He looked back over his shoulder at Cynthia, who was walking beside Cheek. The two had become fast friends. Cynthia enjoyed his lighthearted mischief and found comfort in his company.

Not so long ago, not so far from this place, Tess had chided Mattimeo for his ill treatment of the young vole. Although he was not much older, he had been careful with the way he spoke to others and expressed his emotions and intended to stay on his best behavior, just as he had promised. He looked up at his father with a weak smile. “I’m fine. I’m just concerned for my friends. That morning after the feast, that is where they kept us. St. Ninian's. I don’t know if they would want to go back.”

Matthias felt a lump form in his throat. St. Ninian's had been crumbling into decay even when he was young, but once it had been the comfortable home to his friends the churchmice before it has been overrun by Cluny and his rats. It had not occurred to him that Slagar would have held the young ones in the church before continuing south. He wondered at the strength of the Churchmouse twins who had been born there and once called the church home. Even now they were laughing between themselves as they listened to Basil exaggerate the story of adopting the name Stag Hare. Matthias might have enjoyed a laugh too, as the story was much more elaborate than when he had met the retired foot fighter many seasons before, but he was not in the mood for laughter.

The warrior mouse was surprised that his grief for Slagar's scheme had not waned, even though Mattimeo was back safely in his company. He was aware that his son was trying his best to follow his example, but Matthias knew his young one: Mattimeo did not want to go back to the church.

“Where would you think your friends would like to sleep tonight?” the warrior asked quietly.

All around them was the peace of Mossflower woods. Moths had begun their lazy flight in the warm autumn air and crickets chirped their afternoon song in the distance. Mattimeo’s eyes wandered over the scenery before him.

“Why don’t we camp in the grass beside the road again? It hasn’t rained and the ground is dry. It’s warm too, after today.”

“That sounds like a splendid idea to me. You should ask our friends what they think.”

Mattimeo turned on one paw and made his way back to where Auma and Orlando were strolling quietly with one another. “Orlando, Auma, what do you think about—”

Walking quickly up behind him, Matthias cut him short. “No, Matti—ask everyone.”

Confusion crossed the young mouse's face for a moment. “But dad, you’re in charge.”

Matthias placed his paws firmly on Mattimeo shoulders and slowly turned him toward the crowd. “Not tonight, Mattimeo.”

…

The freed slaves relished at the idea of resting under the bright stars instead of the confines of a ruin. Suddenly, they all fell into their nightly routine. Jess led a group of the squirrels and otters in search of ingredients for their evening meal while others prepared the clearing for their night’s rest.

Tess ran up to Mattimeo and grabbed his paw. “Come on, Matti, let’s find some firewood. Orlando says he’s making a wild vegetable soup tonight!”

Basil watched the two mice run off together and nudged Matthias gently. “Did you notice, old chap? He hasn’t let go of her paw yet.”

Matthias could not help but laugh at his old friend. “Don’t get started, Basil. Don’t do to him what you did to me and Cornflower.”

Basil’s ears stood straight up in indignation. “What! Me? I say, sah, I never once made a comment regarding you and your goodwife.”

“As I recall,” Matthias taunted as he began assembling a fire pit, “You said something to Cornflower about being a 'pretty little filly' who anyone would be lucky to settle down with. You said it pointedly to someone. I wonder who that was, again?”

“You, of course,” the hare chuckled. “I bet you’re as anxious as a beetle in a bottle to get young Matti back to his mother.”

Matthias nodded sagely. “I’m just as anxious to get back to her, myself.”

…

Orlando’s cooking was as good as Auma had said it was earlier that summer. The young badger wrapped her paws around her father’s forearm. “I told them that it’s our secret that you can cook, dad, but I guess everyone knows now.”

“As long as everyone is fed and no longer hungry, they can say whatever they’d like about my cooking to anybeast.” Orlando wrapped his cloak around his daughter's shoulders. “But now, it’s time for rest.”

Slowly the weary travelers settled down for the night. Moment by moment, the increasing sounds of soft, deep breathing and loud, raucous snores filled the air. Mattimeo had laid down near his father but sleep evaded him and he rolled about restlessly. When he opened his eyes, he saw his father lying on his back, wide awake and staring at the quarter moon.

Mattimeo sat up and looked skyward with him. The moon hung luxuriously in the velvety darkness surrounded by wisps of clouds.

Careful not to wake any nearby creature, Matthias whispered, “Are you having trouble sleeping, Matti?”

Not taking his eyes from the sky above him, Mattimeo nodded.

The warrior stood and held a paw out to his son. “I can’t either. Let's go for a walk.”

…

The warriors walked silently side by side further north along the road. When St. Ninian's came into view, Mattimeo stopped suddenly and made to turn around until his father’s voice stopped him.

“Do you remember when you were young? When you couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t either. We would stay awake all night in the gatehouse. We would play games, and I would tell you stories, and most importantly—we would talk to each other, Mattimeo.”

The young mouse turned slowly back toward his father and kicked languidly at the dirt of the path. Matthias did not know why he was struggling to begin this conversation, but he knew he could not postpone speaking honestly to his son any longer.

"When did we stop talking to each other? I've always loved you. I want to know—I need to know—why? I don't want to go home without knowing that I'm the best father I can be to you, Matti."

Mattimeo looked at his father's expression. For the first time in many seasons, he felt he could speak sincerely. The words burned his throat, but he began to speak. "I don’t know what happened, dad, I don’t. One day I just—” He pinched the bridge of his nose, desperate the stop the tears from welling in his eyes. “One day I didn’t feel like I could tell you the truth anymore. I felt like everything I said was wrong, like I couldn’t do anything right and I would never be a warrior because I couldn’t be like you.” Mattimeo turned toward the darkness of the woodlands while fidgeting nervously with his paws. “I started talking to Martin instead."

The words broke Matthias's heart. He saw so much of himself in his son. He remembered how he felt sitting dejected under Martin's tapestry while Abbot Mortimer lectured him on his deepest emotions, telling him that the days of warriors had long passed. He wanted to encourage his son to speak further, instead of silencing his passions. “You talk to Martin?”

Mattimeo began casually walking forward again. “Yeah, I mean—not always. But for a long time I have. Whenever I was alone in Great Hall I would feel his presence there and I would talk to him. Now I talk to him no matter where I am.” He paused. “You must think that’s strange.”

“No, Mattimeo. I talk to Martin, too. I have since I was young.”

Mattimeo turned back toward his father, a look of awe on his face. “You did?”

Matthias smiled as he saw the spark of admiration in his son’s eyes.

“I still do.”

Mattimeo suddenly increased his pace toward St. Ninian's. Matthias followed behind, careful not to interrupt his son’s lead.

Upon reaching the church, Mattimeo pushed the doors ajar to allow the moonlight to flow into the lobby. He stood silently inside the entrance until his father stopped beside him. The inside of the building was dark, with crumbling architecture illuminated by the light streaming from the door. Even with the fresh air from the woodlands blowing in, the two mice could smell the molding books and rotting wooden furniture from where they stood, along with other smells more abhorrent to imagine. The glum reverie was only broken by the hushed breathing of the two mice until Matthias spoke solemnly.

“Mattimeo—I will not ask you to tell me anything you want to keep to yourself, but if you want to tell me something, I am here to listen to you.”

His son pointed to the far wall that was completely shrouded in darkness. “There. The fox chained us there.” His paw dropped back and his side. Matthias heard his son's voice break.

It made Matthias sick to his stomach to see the place where his son had woken in a stupor after the midsummer feast only to find that his life was forever changed. Although the fox was defeated, Matthias felt rage building in him anew.

“I didn’t want to come back here because I didn’t want to see it again," Mattimeo whispered.

Fighting the image of the harlequin mask from his mind, Matthias brought his thoughts back to his son, who was standing beside him, free and safe. “Why did you?”

“Because, dad, I want to be as strong as you are and not be scared of anything.”

Matthias stepped in front of his son and looked earnestly into the young mouse’s eyes. “Can I tell you a secret, Mattimeo?”

The seasoned warrior waited for his young son to nod in approval before continuing. “I am scared of many things, Matti. I was scared of Asmodeus. I was scared of Cluny. I was scared of losing friends that I have lost. And mostly, I was scared of ever losing you.”

He took a deep breath, ignoring the images swirling in the darkness around him. He knew they were figments in his mind. “The moment John told us you were gone was the most scared I have ever been in my life, and the most disappointed and angry I have ever been in myself. Matti, it is not wrong to feel these things, and it’s alright to be honest with those close around you who can help you. And even if you defeat your enemy, sometimes that still isn’t enough to take that fear away.”

Mattimeo had never seen his father so vulnerable. He swallowed, struggling to bring forth words. “What do you mean, dad?”

“I barely had the courage to walk into the bell tower again after the battle with Cluny. Just the memory made my heart race, but they named a bell after me so I felt a responsibility to be there when they hung it. It was difficult for me, and as far as I know no one knew how hard it was for me to be there, except your mother. Sometimes even the memory of fear is enough to open deep wounds. If you fear the memory of Slagar, or of this place, there is no shame in that. You are a stronger mouse than I am to walk here on your own.”

Mattimeo stared into the darkness, his eyes unable to focus as they watered. Matthias continued. “There is a very heavy burden with being a warrior, and I'm sorry you have to bear it. Many of our closest friends do not have the fortune to return home with us or celebrate our victories. Many creatures around you expect you to put on a brave face even when you are falling apart in your heart. I truly believe that is a quality in a good leader, to hide how you feel to encourage others—but Matti—you do not have to fall apart alone. Please remember that. If you felt you couldn’t speak to me before, I want you to know that you can. I never wanted you to feel as alone as I did when I was becoming a warrior.”

Mattimeo’s jaw began to tremble, and Matthias wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close.

“There is more than one way to be a warrior, son. I need you to see that because you are one, too.”

#redwall #redwall fanfiction #mattimeo #matthias the warrior #st ninians #I'm just saying that Mattimeo would need some serious therapy after that summer #and I don't think Redwall has a therapist #so Matthias needs to step it up #especially considering they should have been having these conversations anyway #also imagine how traumatic it would be to walk back by these places where they were seriously emotionally scarred #WARRIORS CAN FEEL THINGS OK

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mc-critical · 3 years

Note

On Hatice’s character, I feel like she more or less was cheated of a better character arc which could’ve made her more likeable or easier to understand (almost everyone I’ve encountered who is into the series has extreme distaste for her character.) Though I don’t necessarily feel any particular form of intensity towards her character I do wish she could have been explored a bit more? I can see why she wasn’t likely due to time constraints/needing to stay consistent with plot lines but it would have been nice to see. I feel like everytime Hatice was on screen, mentioned, or involved in the plot line it was in conjunction to or in relation to Ibrahim. Even after Ibrahim was dead, Hatice’s whole storyline was just..Ibrahim. It was clear that she was emotionally unstable and dealt with attachment issues from the start of the series, likely resulting trauma from her father’s bloody reign. We’re told she was “her parent’s favorite/the spoiled one” according to her siblings, we’re hinted at some sort of past fued between her and Sah but no real context. We rarely got to see her interact with her children. It’s like we only were given tiny bits and pieces of Hatice as her own person and everything else about her just existed to string Ibrahim along. It’s quite sad..what do you think?

Eh, I absolutely adore Hatice as a character and I feel she got a very solid, well-written character arc. I'm pleased with what we got with her in the show and I think that her nuance tends to be massively overlooked.

The center of her character is not really Ibrahim, but rather the line between family and dynasty. And while that seems to be attributed with Ibrahim in the strongest way, it also channels in who Hatice is as a person and her interactions with other characters like her mother, Süleiman and Hürrem.

Hatice has always been the sultana of blood that is closest to the dynasty, but also the one that wants to detach the most from it. As you said, she had lingering trauma from her father's reign /which indeed is only hinted, to be honest, but that's the whole backstory of Selim Yavuz, what we got from his cruelty in the show was basically hints two flashbacks. We were told by Süleiman of his defining deed, we were told by Valide and Hatice that they saw his father in him, but the rest remained pretty much vague, which isn't a problem with Hatice's character. However, it may come off as a problem with SS's character, since more backstory would better explain his paranoia outside of actions of the "suspects" taken out of context, would render Mustafa's death a little more understandable and would highlight even more his character arc, for Selim Yavuz was his "Azraeel", according to him, but that is a post for another day./, but on a more personal note, she has witnessed the death her former husband, which puts her panic and fear over death in another light. Her backstory isn't that focused on, because it's not all that important for her character arc: because while Mahidevran has to get over her past and Şah Sultan tries to consistently set herself for the future, Hatice has to face the events of the present. She's an effective deconstruction of the Princess Classic trope she started up as: an innocent, fragile, kind hearted princess, no sign of trauma whatsoever who strives to create a family of her own, as a bonus. After she meets Ibrahim, she feels like she wants to be in that adventure with him, she not only falls in love with him, but he fills her with hopes and dreams for a better life. Look how when she marries him she wanted to get out of Topkapi as soon as possible and always repeated that she wanted for them to be a family, that she wanted to have piece. Even her love for Ibrahim is much more deep seated than some plain obsession that is only used as a plot device or to prop him up. She's grown with beliefs that have been a part of her life and sometimes she lets them out out of sheer ignorance, no matter how much independence she wants in her personal life. Her whole relationship with Ibrahim is a back and forth conflict between dynasty and family that is only a vector for her arc, not the entirety of it.

It's often ignored how pivotal is Hatice's relationship with Valide. The closeness she has with her, especially compared to her other sisters, shaped up all of Hatice's life long beliefs. Namely Valide is the root of Hatice's love and respect for the dynasty, being next to its female representative her entire life (see also Valide's flashbacks in E58) and witnessing the way she dealt with things, the way she ruled the harem, the way she made decisions. Even Hatice herself considered her as her role model and wanted to be like her. (she told her this in E61) It was as if Valide was a preserver of all the virtues Hatice deemed as worth having. She has a tremendous respect for her and her opinions and this is what brought her to hide her love for Ibrahim more than anything. The respect she has for the ottoman laws and the ottoman dynasty and the ways she got used to them made her to do anything but admitting SS and Valide her true feelings.

Valide is an indirect reason of Hatice's supposedly "inpartial" point of view in the harem that let her judge things more fairly. It's not that Hatice was completely unbiased in her relationships with Mahidevran and Hürrem early on, because oh no, she wasn't, Hatice always was on the dynasty's side in this war, but for her dynasty always advocated fairness and preserving piece and order. She wasn't afraid to call out whoever she thought was wrong at any time and even when her bias had completely (and honestly, rightly in many aspects) impacted her in terms of Hürrem, she wasn't afraid to admit that she was right about Firuze after all. Hatice also has a very reactive personality: she doesn't let anyone provoke her and quickly responds when she's provoked. She's not provoked only about Ibrahim, she's also provoked when it comes to both family and dynasty, overall, seeing Hürrem and Mahidevran quarrel in E11, Fatma and the concubines challenging Hürrem in E47, Mahidevran attempting to kill Hürrem's children in E55, Mihrimah defending Hürrem in E84 etc. Whenever something she cares about is opposed or attacked by someone, she would always spring into action, which is a very consistent trend of her character as a whole.

{There are many reasons why I personally find Hatice sympathetic: she's one of the most ethical characters of the show, acting as a peacekeeper wanting to keep everyone out of their struggle, she's always ready to help, she cherishes love (her wanting to marry Sadıka to Matrakcı), there are so many people she cares about outside of just Ibrahim - Mahidevran, Mustafa, Valide, her sisters and their problems impact her as well, despite of how "self-centered" she may seem at first glance. She, just like MCK Gevherhan, is so humane to everyone she interacts with, trying her very best to empathize with them. (to the point Mahidevran told her in E05 that if she keeps up worrying only about them, she will wither in this palace) Her trauma and circumstance also bring in a lot of empathy for me, because significantly little of it is her own doing, compared to other characters. We see a character that deteoriates both internally and externally often as a consequence of her simply fearing she would lose everyone she loves and that her life would be once again, filled with illnesses and death.}

[Truth be told, I don't get the Hatice hate, like AT. ALL. I don't know about you, but people I've encountered on the Internet couldn't give me a valid reason as to why they hate Hatice so much. They either reduce her to a "whiny", "crying", "spoiled" or "evil" bitch, either say they hate her because she breaks down a lot or because stood up against Hürrem for no reason, which is totally untrue, in my opinion. I genuinely haven't seen one (1) good argument as to why she deserves such ire. They mostly look at a more dimensional version of S03 Hatice and forget everything that set up S03 Hatice, or they hate Hatice exclusively because of S03, which.... eh? I would dare say that there are more reasons to hate Mahidevran than there ever were to hate Hatice (even though the hate directed at Mahidevran is, once again, for all the wrong reasons) and if someone gave me an actually good reason to hate Mahidevran, I would understand, but Hatice? Even her more questionable actions were ultimately provoked by something or someone.]

Her first traumatic experiences in the present is also connected to the kids she's lost. Yeah, giving her more time with her living children and seeing her more as a mother is the one thing I would definetly change in her writing. We didn't get enough of that and it would be a breath of fresh air. But then again, losing so many could've demotivated her and the last time she was pregnant we also had this prevailing, but understandable fear. It also just doesn't play such a big part in her deconstrustion-to-become-flanderization-in-character-development arc.

We gain a gradual, broader perspective into her a bit later in the narrative, and perhaps that eventually broken first impression would cause disappointment - Hatice could be prideful and while she wants to detach from the dynasty for her family, she values her own position and the rights that are offered with it. She could be easily offended by remarks made to startle her. She could be demanding sometimes. But that existed along with her good traits. Hatice was the most reasonable and morally unproblematic character of the main cast overall and by S01/2, that truly showed.

If we refer only to S03 Hatice, it would make a tiny bit more sense for people to not find her that sympathetic. Because while she underwent a good flanderization arc, it's still flanderization and some traits of hers seem to be more present than others in that season, especially knowing the trajectory of said arc. It may look like there isn't a sympathetic reason to do what she does, as if she's like this all of the sudden. But here's the rub: season 3 wasn't supposed to give this much context to Hatice's actions, it's the pay-off of a build-up, the peak of her arc that leads to a resolution. Season 3 wasn't supposed to repeat stuff that has already been established, all Hatice is doing there, has been set up for an entire season, if not more. We already know what's driving her, we already have the sympathetic reasons. That's why all the attention is given to her actions that bring her to tragedy, not to introspective scenes.

Back to Ibrahim's relation to Hatice's character: A common affirmation I hear is that Hatice's rift with Hürrem was caused thanks to Ibrahim and Ibrahim alone. There's so much more to it than that! While we had the scene that started the build-up and the one that ended it be about a possible/already a fact infidelity of Ibrahim's as a parallel, these are only a part of it, not it in its entirety. Keep in mind that the one thing that fully set the upcoming enmity in motion during S03 is Hürrem taking Valide's chambers. And at first Hatice wasn't about to blame Hürrem for it all when she went to tell it to his majesty (her saying to Gülfem that it doesn't matter who told her about the affair) with her claiming that Hü ruined her life only after their confrontation for Valide's chambers. And here we return to the center of Hatice's character: thing is, whether we liked it or not, Hürrem always was a threat to the dynasty in Hatice's eyes. Şah asked her the infamous question: "The dynasty or Ibrahim?" when she was asked why is Hürrem a threat in E81, but I think both are in conjunction, yet independent of each other here. Hatice values tradition just like her mother and Hürrem breaking them all would cause some kind of disturbance. She got distraught right after she was freed and married, claiming that it had to be stopped before it happened, look also how she told Afife Hatun that Hürrem had to be gotten rid of because she caused unrest in the harem! Not only Ibrahim's death, but Valide's death impacted her so much, she thought someone had to supposedly protect the dynasty for what is to come before everything goes haywire and that's what she attempted to do the entire time. In S03A personal motives clearly ran together with the apparent protection of the dynasty (I sometimes like to parallel Hatice's dynasty with Kösem's state in my head, despite that Kösem's urge to protect the state comes more with her role as a ruler and regent and measures out of necessity, while Hatice's comes from willingness to preserve balance and harmony in a more personal level.) and she considered Hürrem as a threat to everything Hatice believes in. She seems to also take on her mother's footsteps in that regard, in a way, using common for Valide methods like sending a concubine to SS etc. She considers Hürrem a threat for her own stability and well-being and that isn't limited to just Ibrahim.

Her relationship with SS is the one that is probably the most connected to Ibrahim, judging by their first more "nuanced" scene for me (him deciding to marry Ibro and Hati) and fallout (the confrontation for Ibrahim's death), but that could be also connected to what Hatice has previously experienced and genuine respect for him as a brother before all the rocky stuff happened. And interestingly, her deep resentment and then despise of him is targeted at him bringing Hürrem to their lives, not simply just killing Ibrahim, though that was also an intensely strong motivator of hers.

Hatice's bond with Mustafa is also strong even before she fell in love with Ibrahim. She also considered him "the future of the dynasty", played with him in the gardens, comforted him in tough times when she could. They didn't have as many scenes together, but the relationship added a good amount of flavor to her character.

A reason why I think Hatice's relationship with Mahidevran is so precious and criminally underrated, is that this is the relationship least centered on Ibrahim, second only to Hatice's with Valide. Their scenes early on is mostly them being there for each other and being happy with each other's moments of good time. They're very bound to each other and are very good friends that still have a dynamic relationship. The temporary S02B fallout between them has everything to do with Hatice's disappointment and disbelief of Mahidevran's own failings. She also threatened something Hatice cared about and did something she didn't expect of her. And that isn't barely noticeable, Hürrem even remarked that Mahidevran is becoming alone in E58. (oh my, I hate this scene with passion, but anyway.) After that their dynamic then remained basically intact for S03, expect that they could act more like allies than friends. But that's a given, due to the more intense events in the palace and the tonal shift of the show.

I find her dynamic with Şah fascinating due to their contrasting personalities and strained, yet loving relationship. The feud between them had enough context given to us through Beyhan's words to Şah in E83: that Hatice not only was Valide's favorite, but she apparently had the life Şah wanted to have, which explains Şah's ambition and supposed distance and secrecy well enough. More backstory would mean destroying the interesting duality in the relationship and wouldn't make Şah's motivation half as interesting and uniquely presented as it was, to be honest. Which is why I find her dynamic with Hatice way more interesting than her dynamic with Hürrem (which is good, too, but pretty generic), but that's also a post for another day. But Hatice is actually the more open person in this dynamic and the one more revealing her feelings. Şah wanted her to move on from her losses, but Hatice objects so strongly because it all has gotten to a completely personal level, with Şah trying to redecorate her castle, it would look like she's trying to change her from the outset, her as a person, which is something Hatice would never agree with. But then again, it's clearly shown that deep down Şah cares about what Hatice wants and is trying to do the best for her in her own way. And the emphasis is again put on family: they still get along and reconcile, setting their differences aside.

Many of Hatice's introspective scenes were with Gülfem and while they talked about Ibrahim many times, we could still see the amount of powerful support between them. Hatice shared everything with Gülfem, it was as if they knew everything about each other. They were each other's comfort.

She showed moral support to Beyhan, as well. That is another familial relationship that shows both casual and profound interactions. It's not there as much, but that's more because of Beyhan's limited screentime, not because of something to do with Hatice.

Even her arc with Ibrahim isn't all about him, but is also tied to the core of her character. The line between dynasty and family drives their whole fallout and if it wasn't there, the conflict between them wouldn't ever take place. Hatice ultimately forgiving Ibrahim is more about her getting out of her own dynastic outlook, which is a relevant character development of hers that happens along with her flanderization. And that plot-line is as important as the flanderization, even more so, and it pushes it forward. It was a resolution of the conflict with family and dynasty in Hatice, not exactly forgiving Ibrahim just for Ibrahim. (that is also a factor, no doubt, because she loves him and he is a part of her character, but not all her character.)

Overall, for me Hatice is a multi-faceted, amazing character that is actually very fleshed out in the span of three seasons. I don't find much issue with her writing: everything that happened with her is logical and well-explained if you look closely enough and I don't want more for her arc. It was original and outstanding for what it was, both as a character concept and a dynastic sultana of the franchise.

#magnificent century #muhteşem yüzyıl #muhtesem yuzyil #hatice sultan #ask #stuffandthangs

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fymagnificentwomcn · 3 years

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Do you think that if Hatice hadn't ended up marrying Ibrahim she maybe could have been a little happier? Or at least lived longer? I always felt that her "love" for him was much more a kind of obsession than actual love and in the end being granted permission from Suleyman to be with him ended up being bad for her mental health since before their wedding she wasn't as anxious, paranoid, arrogant and jealous as she later became. Maybe if she married someone else she may not have fallen in love with them, but maybe she would have been a better mother to her children?

I honestly don’t think so. Of course a marriage of two traumatised people IS always a risky thing because obviously double dose of trauma and emotional problems is worse than when we have only one person with issues in a marriage, but loveless marriage would have destroyed Hatice much sooner, and actually it wasn’t the marriage that was the destruction of Hatice. Yes, it brought her a lot of pain with his betrayal, but ultimately it was one aspect of pain in her life that ultimately did get resolved, unlike others, which intensified.

Hatice is a clearly damaged person already at the beginning of the story. She’s a very sensitive soul that would always be troubled in this system. In her young age, she already had to witness the reign of her bloody father and was forced to marry an elderly man that died soon after the marriage. Even Süleyman is traumatised after dealings with his father and when he witnessed Selim’s brutal rise to power that involved eradicating all males in the family except Süleyman himself. Hatice feels trapped in the palace and feels suffocated in it.

While Ibrahim is made of sterner stuff, as we may say, and also does enjoy rising in the ranks in Ottoman palace, we know he also feels trapped and suffocated here, and that never truly adapted to Ottoman reality. While not so much sensitive person who abhors power games, he nevertheless also feels out of place here, also because he always feels more connected with Western culture. They are both outsiders actually. And this is what ultimately binds them together .Hatice, unlike say an ambitious princess like Sah, does not want power – she only wants to live peacefully with her children and man she loves. In this system of constant struggle, sometimes almost Darwinian (the whole open succession hello) to be on top, she might feel an outsider for that. Hatice in S1 IS also a naïve, sheltered idealist. She has her dreams of ideal future.

After (amost miraculous) acceptance of her marriage to Ibrahim, she seems to have it all, especially when she gets pregnant. But then everything is shattered when she miscarries and this is the event that begins her emotional descent arc.

However, she did have mental issues before that. She tried to kill herself when she was supposed to marry the man of Hafsa’s choosing. She didn’t want to feel trapped even more by again people deciding her fate thanks to all soulless, pragmatic, harsh rules.

Hatice was a depressed, anxious person from the very start of the series ,and she could also be short-tempered and impatient from very beginning.

And her being forced to marry someone else or not marry anyone would have likely made her to what Gevherhan did in MYK- decide to take her fate into her own hands FOR ONCE.

Maybe Ibrahim wasn’t a perfect choice due to his own emotional baggage that later made him commit stupid things, but he was still a good choice because she loved him, he loved her and he did understand her and also tried to be a source of support even though all their issues also caused him to be similarly a source of pain to her.

However, not matter how much Hatice and Ibrahim tried, the power struggle in the palace affected them because neither of them - she as member of dynasty and him as important official - could ever be free from it. Ibrahim and Hürrem’s rivalry that intensified from S2 onwards affected it – we might say that neither Hürrem nor Ibrahim wanted to purposefully hurt Hatice, but she got caught in crossfire nevertheless. Obviously, marriage to Hatice meant a lot for Ibrahim’s career in the palace and making it fall apart was the easiest way for Hürrem to remove Ibrahim. We discussed it a bit here.

Similarly, fate also threw difficult things on them – first the miscarriage, then the death of the baby the cause of which was never determined (whether the poison or simple Sudden Infant Death Syndrome), but Hatice blames herself and thinks herself to be a killer of her child. Even once Ibrahim begins suspecting Hürrem because he figures out there was poison on his notebook that later could be carried to a child, who didn’t have such a strong organism as his father, he never shares this with Hatice not to re-open old wounds. Then Suleyman’s heart attack and her mother’s illness, all the intensification of power struggles that re-merged with Hatice trusting Hürrem again and then being disappointed again when Hürrem used sick Valide to frame Mahi while at the same sitting with Hatice and wishing her mum a speedy recovery (and Hatice did scold Mahi at first believing it was her), also some of earlier Mahi’s behaviour too… the turn of S2/S3 is very traumatising for Hatice. Death of her mother, followed by Ibrahim’s infidelity revelation together with manner of Hürrem revealing it that left Hatice in no doubt it was done to remove Ibrahim and that Hürrem was thus glad about his cheating (and again knowing that it is what Hürrem has dreamt of for long), so the final nail to their friendship’s coffin, it all caused a huge blow.Ultimately, the problem that does get solved in the end is the marital problem. Ibrahim ultimately does wake up even before he learns Nigar is pregnant (what Nigar anticipated actually) because in the end he DOES love his wife. He knows how much he hurt Hatice and is ready to face the consequences.. When Matrakçi said Hatice loves him a lot and would eventually forgive him, while Hürrem would surely use her opportunity and tell Süleyman: Ibrahim said: “What does it matter if I lose everything or not? I’ve once renounced ranks for Hatice. Nothing is worthy next to her. The only thing that worries me is Hatice, her broken heart. When she looked at me, I wanted the ground to swallow me whole”.

Again it’s Hatice’s choice to forgive him and neither Hürrem nor anyone should mock her for it. And unlike Süleyman, who constantly promises Hürrem to be faithful, and then goes enjoying making her jealous, Ibrahim does not intend to hurt Hatice ever again and I believe he wouldn’t have even if he had lived much longer.

And then we see them at their best, most mature, most healthy relationship now they’ve dealt with their issues and decided to start anew no matter what. I think part of Hatice’s anxiety was being centered around her ideal, dream life and once cracks appeared (first crack was again the miscarriage), the issues began popping up, and she felt like world was slipping from her fingers. It is a psychological phenomenon, when sometimes big storm cleanses you because you give up on perfection, while a small crack can drive you crazy and be a nagging trigger.

Same with Ibrahim, who as Hatice’s husband and more and more successful vizier, began seeing that no matter his talents and achievements he’s still considered inferior to members of dynasty (including Süleyman ranting at beginning of S2 to Hürrem how nobody, including Ibrahim, is equal to him in Ibrahim’s earview). Hatice’s remark about him being servant (she obviously does not see him as that) would be perhaps part of normal marital quarrel otherwise, something thrown in anger, but for him it was a trigger. His relationship with Nigar was an escape from it all – unlike his relationships with Hatice and Süleymann, the dynastic aspect was gone, he was actually with someone inferior and doing something foribidden for damads. He himself believed in that fantasy world he created with Nigar and even remarked to his brother he would like to run away with the woman he loved (aka Nigar) back to Parga, but it was all an illusion. He did TRULY LOVE Hatice, NOT Nigar, but he could not get over at that moment with how much she stood for and was part of the system he abhorred (same with Süleyman). He loves both Hatice and Suly a lot, but at the same time he hates the system they stand for and this conflict drives him a lot in S2 . When he says why Esmanur is his favourite child he remarks that while he loves his children with Hatice, Esmanur is so precious to him because she’s not part of any dynasty he’s subservient to. At the same time he has his crisis with Hatice, he goes through several crises in this aspect with Süleyman too (and again, both conflcts are played at roughly the same time). All things that would later doom him happened in S2 (things that he was guilty of, not simply blamed for something he didn’t do), he’s far more relaxed and certain of himself and his place in S3 before his death.

And after all problems were dealt with, Hatice’s paranoia concerning Ibrahim’s potential infidelity was healed once and for all. Even when Hürrem tries to scheme again and arranges Ibrahim to meet Nigar by accident in the Marble Pavillon, Hatice does not even intend to check because she trusts him 100% now. They were truly a happy family before Ibrahim’s death.

What destroyed once and for all was Ibrahim’s death and afterwards because it wasn’t just death of a spouse – following this event she effectively lost also another person very close to her – her brother. Of course after such horrible death when her husband’s body was dumped in unnamed grave in the forest and she can’t even go there (I suppose Matrakçi didn’t want to take her there because he was afraid seeing this could only make her despair more) as a result of brutal power games in the palace after which nobody was safe, a sensitive person lost it. Especially since she lost three people to whom she was closest most of out of her family in very close succession – her mother, her husband and her brother. And she had to live under one roof with people responsible for her husband’s death. Mahidevran and Mustafa also were gone to Manisa. She had Sah, who despite all loved her and wanted to help her, but it was of course a difficult relationship, also with some unresolved things. And instead of truly being there for his sister, Süleyman repeatedly made her even harder to heal by removing all traces of Ibrahim and trying to erase him, allowing Hürrem to hold a party in harem during mourning period, marrying her off against her will, ordering her to leave her palace, dismissing her as crazy and not trusting her at all (or again perhaps that’s what he wanted to believe) when Hürrem beat her up, etc. He never tried to understand her or truly talk to her, all he did was a series of actions that claimed were to make her heal, but were in fact cold orders that often were to made him feel better than actually help Hatice (but he could fool himself he is trying to help of course).

Then of course all injustices that befell Mustafa and his and Mahidevran’s despair, feeling that indeed Mustafa would be next and he would face Ibrahim’s fate made her decide for last desperate step.

And it’s again telling when Hatice comes to Süleyman following Hürrem’s disappearance – she says she finally has her brother again because now they experience the same and he finally understands her. For a short while, she looked happier because she finally had her brother back.Then again when she had her suicide speech he was again all about WHERE’S HURREM instead of even trying to listen to his sister’s words.

I think she was okay mother before Ibrahim’s death and later she was non-functional due to depression and since she could never consult a therapist or even leave this place forever (then she would be alone forever anyway), it could only lead to tragedy.

Hatice is precisely a tragic character, a sensitive soul which the palace life totally destroyed and all she wanted was to be happy with her family. She was a princess yet she could never be free or feel safe. Marrying for love was the only time she truly got what she wanted out of life and without it she would not only have even that. I think that even if she married someone she doesn’t love, so she would not be scared of losing them/would not suffer that much because of their loss would not make her be happier. She could even look at her sister, Beyhan, who didn’t marry for love and whose husband was executed for serious stuff, but yet she lost her brother forever and underwent serious trauma. Gevherhan in MYK also didn’t marry Topal out of love, but she nevertheless decided to create a happy family with him and tried to cherish what she had, but still she was humiliated by her brother, who again executed her (traitor)husband for a show after finally having paid attention to his neglected sister a day before, and her son was left without a father, their whole life uprooted. No matter who she married, Hatice could never be free of betrayal, death and power schemes, so at least she got some true love.

I think that it’s better to have something in your life even if loss than is more painful than if we don’t care about it than live more “secure”, especially since in Hatice’s case she could never have a peaceful life by the mere fact she belonged to the Ottoman dynasty and all its upheavals and conflicts had to somewhat always affect her.

And when it comes to betrayal, it was Süleyman’s, not Ibrahim’s, betrayal that Hatice could never recover and heal from.

- Joanna (also thanks to my friend and biggest Hatice fan & expert @queen-deter , who discussed this question with me 🥰)

#librarian-witchling #hatice sultan #muhteşem yüzyıl #magnificent century #answered #ibrahim pasha #ibrahim x hatice

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mhdiaries · 4 years

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Wave 3 Toralei Stripe Diary

July. Two. Five.

Ooh they’re telling math jokes now...

Q: What do you get if you divide the circumference of a jack-o-lantern by its diameter?

A: Pumpkin Pi!

The math geeks I’m stuck on this bus with think that this is funny. So funny in fact, that the harpy sitting in front of me shoots milk out of her nose when she hears the punch line. I don’t think it’s funny at all. I’d rather be listening to the music I have stored on my iCoffin but two hours into our five-hour ride home my iCoffin gave up the ghost. It should have lasted the whole trip and then some except that one of my math camp roomies “accidentally” unplugged my iCoffin charger last night when she plugged in her fright light. I don’t even know why a ghost needs a fright light. What? Was she afraid she would trip over something and go “bump in the night?” I realized what happened when we woke up this morning but we had to leave first thing so I didn’t have time to put a full charge on it. At least I got enough battery life to block out the two hours dedicated to the singing of “X Number Bottles of Ghoul Juice on the Wall.” To add to the misery the seats on this bus only have room for two monsters and Meowlody and Purrsephone are of course sitting together which left me stuck in a seat next to a troll named Teala who had never been away from her bridge for more than a day until she came to math camp.She cried herself to sleep every night. Not that any other monster but me noticed but then again I notice everything. I also noticed Teala wasn’t laughing at any of the math jokes either. In fact she seemed to be more miserable than I was. Well now, here I was thinking she was missing her bridge but if that were the case why didn’t she seem excited about going home? “Dish,” I said. She turned and looked at me for a moment and then stared back ahead. “Okay - suit yourself then,” I said and then tried to curl up in the seat to take a cat nap which I had almost accomplished when she said; “My boy-fiend broke up with me...by text...the first night of math camp.” She still wasn’t looking at me but she wasn’t crying either. “He was my first real boyfriend and...and I don’t know why I’m telling you ‘cause you don’t seem to care about any monster besides yourself and you’ll probably figure out a way to use this to make me even more miserable.” I didn’t show it, but that really hurt. Just because I enjoy the chaos that a good practical joke brings doesn’t mean that I’m intentionally cruel does it? I don’t think it does and besides; where’s the fun of kicking some monster when they’re already down? It’s a lot more fun to see the surprise on a monster’s face when they think they’ve got it all together and you can “help them” see that they don’t. So I said, “Guess you better tell me the whole story then so I can do a thorough job.” That actually brought a ghost of a smile to her face. Teala told me that her ex boy-fiend was applying to colleges and that he decided he needed to keep his “options open” in case he might meet his “intellectual equal” at school. At first I didn’t believe he actually wrote that and then she showed me the text. “Does he really think he’s that smart,” I asked. She kind of shrugged and said, “He’s scary smart but not as good at math as I am, especially withy differential equations.” She told me he really wanted to get into this one school because his favorite mad scientist taught there. I’d never heard of the school but I knew who the mad scientist was because Mr. Hack made use watch a bunch of his videos in class. The videos were deadly boring but the mad scientist had this odd accent and strange speech pattern. I used to mimic his voice in class to make Mr. Hack jump. I’d wait until Mr. Hack’s back was turned and then scream, “Huhhacckkk - theeese stuuudannts reeelease youuu wuh-ill ah-yuat wa-unce!” It cost me several days in detention and a trip to Headless Headmistress Bloodgood’s office the last time I mimicked the mad scientist but even Mr. Hack admitted he couldn’t tell the difference between the scientist’s voice and my imitation of it. We talked about a few more things and then Teala finally fell asleep. I was able to finally fall asleep as well but not before having to hear another math joke followed by an explosion of milk from the seat in front of me.

July. Two. Eight.

I went to MH today to pick up some pictures I left in the FearBook office. When I was done I went up to the belfry. It’s a good place to keep an eye on things without other eyes watching you. It’s also a good place to take a nap. Usually the hunchback who rings the bells...the bells...works up there but he was on summer vacation in France or somewhere so I had the place to myself; until Spectra came floating through that is. She thinks that she’s very stealthy but it’s almost impossible to sneak up on me and I heard the rattle of her chains long before she actually appeared. I pretended to be asleep for a moment then with my eyes still closed I said, “What do you want Spectra?” “Oh, hello Toralei. Did you hear the news?” Most monsters don’t trust anything they hear from Spectra. I know better. There’s always an element of truth in her “news”. You just need to know how to listen. Here’s an example; Spectra told me she heard that Nefera is moving back to town and will be taking over for Ms. Kindergruber in Home Ick. Not only that but Ms. Kindergruber is also going to quit teaching to become a roadie for her favorite rock and roll band. Now as much fun as it is to imagine Ms. K. climbing stacks of amps while wearing a sleeveless leather vest, bandana and steel toed boots it’s not going to happen. Although when compared to the thought of Nefera actually “lowering herself” to teach, it’s practically a done deal Ms K will be hitting the road. I’m pretty sure out of that confusing jumble of information the one true fact is that Nefera is moving back to town and probably sooner rather than later...now there’s a monster who enjoys kicking some body when it’s down.

July. Three. Zero.

Got an email today from Teala, the troll girl I sat with on the ride home from math camp. Apparently her ex boy-fiend told her that he got a call from the mad scientist he wanted to study under. The scientist told her ex that his test scores indicated a “skuhh-ill weeeakness in diffuhh-wrenntial eeeequay-shunns” and that her ex should find some monster that was intellectually superior and “geeet sah-ummm tuutorr-ing”. Her ex was certain it was the professor since “no monster could fake that voice.” He also apologized to Teala for being an arrogant jerk and asked if she would tutor him in differential equations. Teala told him that she would have to check her schedule. Sometimes it is just purrrecious the way things work out for the beast.

August. One. Three.

I bought a ball of dragon thread today for Sweet Fangs. It’s just about the only material that’s strong enough to survive more than one play session with her. I don’t know what I’m going to do when Sweet Fangs gets bigger because I’m probably going to need the whole dragon and I’m not sure mom and dad are gong to be good with that.

August. Two. Five.

M&P came over today. They’re like my sisters and I can’t imagine how boring unlife would be without them. We do just about everything together and some monsters even think we’re related but we’re not. Not that it matters since we don’t really care what other monsters think anyway. We are who we are and any monster or monsters that want to try and herd us better get ready for a long miserable day. Today we weren’t worried about being herded, today was a brainstorm session. Our mission, repay Cleo de Nile and her minions for not only ruining our perfectly planned graduation prank but also for taking away part of our valuable summer vacation by “arranging” our trip to math camp. Knowing that it was Cleo who got the better of us is almost as irritating as being wet or having my fur stroked the wrong way. I can’t believe that I actually helped her when she first wanted to be a part of the Fear Squad. Cleo didn’t even know how to do a cartwheel, much less a round off. So I took her under my claw and taught her everything I knew and since I’d been doing gymnastics from the time I was a kitten I knew a lot. I finally got Cleo to the point where she started to “get it” and instead of being a liability she started contributing. I figured that for all my hard work and leadership Nefera would make me the Fear Squad captain when she graduated. Only she didn’t - she passed it onto Cleo. I can still remember what Nefera said to me when I confronted her about it. “I didn’t want Cleo to succeed - I wanted her to be humiliated but since you helped her, you get to deal with the consequences.” Then Cleo acted as if she deserved to be the captain and that she automatically knew everything there was to know about leading the Fear Squad. She should have showed some humility and stepped aside. She didn’t so now it’s up to me to teach her some new lessons and I can’t wait for class to be back in session.

August. Three. One.

There’s a meteor shower tonight, which will give us the purrrfect opportunity to practice the three D’s. Divert. Design. Demure. First I divert attention away from myself - although tonight the meteor shower should do that for me, next I design a “surprise” for my intended victim student and then after the unexpected happens I demure - “Oh my, what happened here?” More later...

Ended up scraping the three D’s tonight, mostly because the meteor shower diverted me. I was supposed to meet M&P at this coffee shop down close to the beach - it’s the only time I go to the beach since sand + water + fur = unhappy werecat - but they were late so I grabbed a catnipuccino and waited. The owner turned down the lights of the shop so it was almost dark and then the sky was falling. The ghouls showed up just as somewhere down the beach a monster started playing guitar and I said, “Just because we’ve got nine lives doesn’t mean we need to rush through this one.” And we didn’t.

#monster high #monster high diary #toralei stripe #text post #wave 3

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crookswithbooks · 4 years

Text

Reading & Demonic Bargains

Steve learns to read and some interesting things are revealed about Fred’s past.

I do not own McDonalds or anything relating to it.

“T-he… T-he… T-he…”

Bill groaned into his hands, seriously considering taking the book from Steve and banging it against his boss’s head. This stuttered reading had been going on for a while now after a very ill-fated comment by Bill about the new book he was reading, Murder on the Open Ocean. They had then begun a discussion that had led to the discovery that Steve could not read, or at least could not read well. Now, twenty minutes later, the four of them sat around in a circle on the floor of Fred’s cubicles trying to encourage Steve through a chapter of The Happy Little Sailboat. Steve was about two sentences in so far an if they didn’t finish soon Bill was going to jail for homicide.

“T-he…” Steve mumbled, horribly mispronouncing the word in the most idiotic way possible. “T-he…”

“It’s ‘the’!” Bill interrupted at last, hands twitching dangerously in his lap. “The word you’re looking for is ‘the’.”

Steve rolled his eyes in a ‘duh, silly me,’ fashion, offering one of his many inane smiles. “Thank you Bill, but I would have got it eventually.”

“Right…” Bill said, squeezing his fists under his arms to stop his hands’ irritated jerking.

“You were saying…?” Janet prompted, leaning forward.

“Oh, yes! Anyway, the—” on ‘the’ he stared very pointedly at Bill—“buh-buh… hmm… the buh-at… The buh-at… I’ve never heard of a buh-at.”

“That’s because it says boat,” Bill said, slamming his hands down. “The boat.”

Steve screwed up his face, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s right, but I suppose you would know better.” He sighed, placing a finger below the words on the page and tracing the sentences as he went. “The boat sah… sah-ill-ed… the boat sah-ill-ed… the boat sah…”

“Say,” Janet added helpfully. “The first part is pronounced like say.”

“Ah, thank you! Okay, where were we? The boat sail-ed… sail-ed… sailed! The boat sailed meh… meh…”

“The boat sailed merrily through the sea!” Bill cried, ripping the book away. “It’s not that difficult!”

Steve stared at the spot where his book used to be, his shoulders dipping into his chest. Janet placed a comforting hand on Steve’s knee, gently rubbing it. “You shouldn’t be so hard on Steve. It’s not his fault he never learned how to read.”

“Yes it is! It is literally his fault that he never learned how to read!” Bill rubbed a hand over his face, taking in a shaky breath. “Look,” he said in a calmer tone. “Can we please just be done with this stupid book? None of us have done any work today.”

“I have.” They all glanced over to see Fred busy at work with a computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

“That’s ridiculous,” Bill scoffed, reaching over to peel back the screen of the device. “We haven’t even been assigned any work today, what could you have possibly done—”

His words were cut off as he read the words written on the screen. “Fred,” he said slowly, his dark complexion flushing a deep shade of crimson. “Why is your work a one-thousand-word piece on me and Janet doing very… detailed activities?”

“Can I see?” Janet asked, perking up.

Bill snatched the computer away, receiving a very disgruntled look from Fred, and gaped at her. “No! Why would you even want…? Why would you write filth like this?” This was directed to Fred.

“I was assigned it.” He shrugged. “Last week.”

“Yes, he was. Now if I could just…” Now it was Steve’s turn to grab the computer away, quickly hitting the save button before anything had the chance to be accidentally ruined in their tussle. His eyes scanned the work and he nodded in approval as he perused. “Very nice. I especially like this part in the middle where—” he broke off at the look from Bill. “Where, uh, things happen that I am not going to discuss in an office place. Fred, I do believe there’s a raise in your future.”

“Sweet.”

Bill’s head swiveled between them, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. “What does any of this have to do with McDonalds?! Why would you write something like that?”

Steve sucked in a breath of air, gently shutting the computer. “Well, this is awkward… you know what, I have something that will brighten the mood!”

“The deletion of everything on that computer?” Bill suggested.

“Homicide?” Fred asked.

“Puppies!” Janet gasped.

“No to all of those, though now I am slightly concerned.” Steve clambered up from his seat on the ground, walking over to a large red button on the wall that none of them had noticed before. “This!”

He slammed his hand down and immediately the walls transformed from their normal gray demeanor to a bright pink, hidden speakers in the walls blasting out the words to Barbie Girl. Steve pulled out a microphone that Bill was sure had not been there before and began singing. “I’m a barbie girl, in a barbie world!” Steve crowed into the microphone, his unmelodious warble causing them all to cringe.

Bill pressed a hand against the walls, prodding their surface to search for pigment changer or hidden devices like that mysterious button. “How…”

“C’mon Fred, join in!” Steve shoved the microphone in Fred’s face who seemed to be taking this all in stride.

“Life in plastic, it’s fantastic,” Fred recited in a monotone voice.

“Ooh, let me!” Janet pounced on the microphone, pressing it far too close to her mouth and causing a lot of unpleasant feedback. “You can do my hair, undress me everywhere! Your turn Bill!”

Bill leaned in close to the microphone, staring right at Janet. “This. Is. STUPID!”

“That’s not the lyrics,” Steve chuckled, taking the microphone back. “Imagination, life is your creation! Fred, hit the lights!”

“There isn’t even a light switch in here,” Fred started, but Steve had ceased paying attention. He pressed the red button again and from the ceiling fell a large disco ball, dangling precariously on a string. The momentum of the fall swung it wildly around the room, the rope straining to hold its weight.

“Um, are you sure this is safe—ARGH!” Bill’s words were interrupted as the rope broke and the colorful ball fell, smashing hard into Bill. He crumpled on the ground, unconscious. In the background, Steve pressed the button once more with a gaping mouth, the walls returning to normal and the music disappearing; it all seemed a bit inappropriate considering their current situation. The broken rope ascended back into the ceiling, unnoticed by the four of them.

Steve clapped his hands together, staring in shock at the crumpled form before him. “Welp.”

“What are we gonna do?!” Janet said, pressing her hands to the side of her face. “What if he’s dead? Steve, what if he’s dead?!”

“I’m sure he’s not dead,” Steve assured her, though the sweat dripping down his face and his panicked expression did nothing to reassure them. “We just have to… um…”

“I think we’re supposed to check if he has a concussion.” Fred kneeled down, taking Bill’s head in his lap and feeling around for lumps. After a moment of intense scrutiny Steve finally snapped, “Well? Is he okay?”

Fred blinked, looking up at him. “What? Oh, no, I just meant we should check, not that I know how to do that.”

“We have to do something!” Janet cried.

“Maybe I could try CPR?” Steve suggested, a flicker of hope coloring his voice.

“I am absolutely positive that will not help,” Fred assured him. “I’m gonna try it anyway!” Steve took Bill into his arms, his near-lifeless body flopping uselessly in a way that did nothing to help Steve’s poorly concealed panic, though he covered it up with a grin. “Don’t worry guys! I’ve got this!”

He leaned in squishing Bill’s cheeks together to make his mouth open. Fred and Janet watched anxiously as he pressed his lips to his employee’s, blowing frantically. “It’s not working!” he said after a couple of tries.

“Well duh!” Fred exclaimed.

“Try again,” Janet said, peering over his shoulder. “Maybe it’ll work if you do it a bunch.”

“This isn’t going to work.”

“Be quiet Fred, I’m trying to kiss this man in my arms to life!” Steve encased Bill’s lips with his own one last time, and finally he came to, a look of horror crossing his face as he realized the situation he was in.

“It’s working! Do it again Steve!” Janet encouraged.

Steve did, much to the dismay of Bill who was finding conscious life not to his liking. He spluttered indignantly, slapping his hands away and stumbling out of his arms, nearly crashing into Fred in the process. “Eugh, ew, gah, blech! Now I have Steve DNA all over, gross! What were you doing that for?!”

Steve dusted himself off. “Only saving your life. But it’s fine. Don’t thank me. I don’t care.”

Bill glared at him. “What kind of idiot tries CPR to cure a head wound?”

Steve gave him a weird look. “What kind of idiot—what do you mean what kind of idiot? I’m the idiot. Do you not remember?” He leaned over to Janet, whispering, “I think he may have hit his head harder than we thought.”

Bill narrowed his eyes. Besides him, Fred frowned, muttering under his breath. “How did that work? It’s not scientifically possible!”

“No one has time for you fancy words, Fred,” Bill interrupted.

“Was it really that bad?” Steve asked, a slight pout to his lips. “I mean, I know I’m rusty but I didn’t think I was that bad of a kisser.”

Bill sighed, one eyes twitching in a dangerous way. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you’re a good kisser. The problem is that I don’t want you kissing me.”

“So you want someone else kissing you?” Steve asked, hearing only one part of the statement.

“What? No? What? That’s not what I meant!”

Steve bent down to reach the computer, still closed on the ground, opening back up the screen. “Right, right, sure,” he said, discreetly typing words into the open document.

Janet came around to grab Bill’s hand, only to have him jerk back like a startled deer. “Look, if it really upset you that much, I’ll pass out too, in solidarity.

Bill furrowed his eyebrows. “Um, that’s not the problem..”

Janet nodded her head. “It’s okay, I understand. This way we’ll both be kissed back to life and you won’t be the only one anymore. You don’t have to explain it to me.”

“But I wasn’t—”

“Shh!” She pressed a finger to his lips. He started down at it with great consternation, his mushed lips continuing their muffled protestations. “Don’t even worry about. I got you.”

She removed her finger, clasping her hands together and screwing her face up. Bill raised a finger in the air, glancing around in confusion. “Um, what is she doing?”

“I think she’s attempting to pass out,” Steve supplied unhelpfully.

“Will it work?” Fred asked.

Steve shrugged. “Who knows? I knew a man once who could kill himself and bring himself back to life in record time, so anything’s possible.” He frowned. “Of course, he had to attend therapy for weeks afterwards because he kept interchangeably going to Heaven and Hell and the stress of where he would end up next was killing him, literally. He did prove the existence of an afterlife though, so that’s a plus.”

Fred looked like he wanted to say something, but using better judgement he decided to just let it go this time.

Janet continued to concentrate, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead, Occasionally she made small grunting sounds, pressing her hands together tighter. “Is she dying?” Bill asked, and for a moment something like actual concern seemed to enter his voice. But then he ruined it by saying, “Because if she is, this might just be my recurring dream that I have every Thursday night.”

Fred stared at her, stroking the small stubble on his chin that he refused to shave. “No, I think she just has to go to the bathroom.”

After a moment of intense straining, Janet gasped and suddenly she was falling. Fred swooped forward before anyone had time to react, gently lowering her to the ground. They all crowded around her unconscious form, stunned that she had actually managed to do it. “What do we do now?” Bill asked, sitting back on the heels of his hands.

“Well, based on what worked with you, I’m assuming one us has to kiss her back to life.” As he said this, Steve gave Bill a pointed look.

Bill started back, staring wide-eyed at him. “What, me? No way, I’m not putting my lips to that! I say we just hit her over the head till she regains consciousness.”

“Neither of your ideas are acceptable solutions!” Fred moaned.

“C’mon Bill, just one smooch!” Steve insisted, scooting closer. Bill scrambled back at his approach. “It can’t hurt, can it?”

“Only my dignity!’ Bill exclaimed.

“Look guys, if it’s really that big of a deal, I can kiss her,” Fred offered, resigned to the fact that nobody was going to listen to reason. “I don’t mind.”

“No!” Steve cried. They both looked at him quizzically. He cleared his throat, saying in a calmer tone of voice. “I mean, you can’t.”

“Why?” Fred asked, a bit alarmed by his earlier tone.

“Because…” Steve scanned his brain frantically for a reason why. “Because… you’re not wearing Chapstick!”

Fred’s face cleared with relief. “Oh, is that all? Well it’s a good thing I keep some in my pockets for emergencies,” he said, reaching into his pocket and grabbing out a small container of peppermint Chapstick.

“No!” Steve slapped the bottle out of his hands, sending it careening violently to the floor. The abruptness of the action left them staring, Fred’s palm stinging from where Steve had assaulted it. After a moment Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, you can’t use it now, it’s all contaminated. From the dirt. On the floor. That’s definitely there.”

Fred narrowed his eyes. “Uh-huh… I suppose you would know better…”

Steve nodded. “I would.”

Fred sighed, reaching back into his back pocket. “It’s a good thing I always bring a spare thing of Chap—”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Steve had snatched it, grabbing Bill roughly by the sleeve and smearing it all over his face. Bill spluttered indignantly as Steve used up the entire bottle of Chapstick in one go, practically creating a second pair of lips on the smaller man’s face.

Steve threw down the now empty container, a satisfied grin on his face. “There! Now it’s all gone! I guess you can’t kiss her after all.

Fred gazed at the empty container with a sorrowful expression. “That was my favorite flavor…”

Bill smacked his lips, tracing his tongue around the glazy substance. “I can see why. Mmm, fruity!”

Fred stuffed a hand into his back pocket. “At least I still have this third bottle—”

Steve grabbed this one as well, this time smearing it all over Janet’s lips, who did not mind as much as she was unconscious. “Oh c’mon man!” Fred cried in dismay. “That was mystery flavor! I love mystery flavor!”

Steve clapped his hands together, panting a little. “Whew, well, at least you can’t possibly have another—where are you pulling these from?”

“I have very dry lips,” Fred said with a shrug.

Before their little dance of avoidance could go on any further, Steve pointed to a decorative picture of a banana hanging on the wall. “Oh would you look at that limited edition Bill x Janet fanfiction in the crook of the banana! You better go look at it in intense detail for a long time!”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Fred agreed, walking over and holding the picture up to his eyes.

Steve sighed in relief, turning to face Bill. “Well, I guess you’re the only one who can kiss Janet back to life.”

“Hold on, why can’t you do it?” Bill pointed out.

Steve rolled his eyes, giving him a patronizing smile. “Because, I’m not wearing Chapstick and you two are. Honestly Bill, keep up!”

Bill glanced down at Janet whose lips seemed to be puckered almost in preparation as though she knew what was happening. “No, I can’t man! It’s… It’s Janet! I can’t kiss Janet!”

“Well, according to chapter fifty-three you can,” Steve muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing!”

Bill threw his gaze around the room wildly, searching for something to distract his boss. “Oh look Steve, it’s that same disturbing fanfiction in the banana picture!”

Steve snorted. “Oh please, I’m not stupid enough to fall for—”

“And a puppy!”

“Fred, move over!”

Now that they were both distracted, Bill returned to his former task of clobbering his coworker back to consciousness. He raised his hands above her in a tight fist and brought it down hard on Janet’s sternum.

She jolted awake, a gasp of pain escaping her. “Oh, Bill…” she rasped. “You saved me. How—cough—romantic.”

Fred peered closer, his eyes widening a little. “Hey guys, Steve wasn’t lying! There really is Bill x Janet fanfiction in the crook of the banana!” He read a bit further, flushing. “And there’s some really explicit stuff in here too.”

Steve glanced over, still a little disappointed from the lack of puppy. “You’re right! I mean, holding hands on the first date?” He blew out a deep breath.

“Audacious,” Fred agreed.

Bill rolled his eyes as Janet clambered t her feet besides him. “Fred, we already told you, enough with your fancy words.”

“I’ve written dirtier things,” Janet whispered conspiratorially, her eyes lighting up. “About Bill and me. Sometimes we even…” She glanced around. “Kiss!”

Bill’s disgust was a physical thing, startling him back a couple feet. “Why?! Why is everyone writing stuff like that?”

“Honestly?” Fred said. “I’m surprised you weren’t.”

Bill shook his head, staring in horror at Janet. “Revolting! I would never kiss someone like her!”

Janet wilted. “You wouldn’t?”

“Obviously not!” Bill spluttered. “Do I even need a reason?” His temperature was rising rapidly, embarrassment and anger turning his face a dark shade of red. He took a deep breath, waving his hand around in circular motions. “Besides, I doubt you’re even a good kisser to begin with, seeing as you’re so STUPID!” It was a childish insult that shouldn’t have held as much weight as it did, but Janet gasped, pressing a hand to her chest.

“Actually, many stupid people are excellent kissers, their beauty and ability to kiss expertly being some of their few redeeming traits,” Fred said. Janet shot him a betrayed look and he straightened, quickly adding, “Not that I’m saying Janet is. Stupid, that is.” He coughed awkwardly, pulling out his phone to check imaginary notifications.

“I’ll have you know, I’m a great kisser!” Janet exclaimed, getting far too close to Bill’s face in her passion. He lurched back but found himself backed against Steve. “Everyone I’ve ever had the pleasure to kiss has told me so!”

Bill snorted. “Please, who would ever kiss you? And stuffed animals don’t count.”

“There is no shame in kissing stuffed animals,” Steve said hastily, coming out from behind Bill. There was an earnest flush to his face as though he were desperate for them to believe him. “I’ll have you know they provide great preparation for anyone who hasn’t actually been kissed before except by their great Aunt Agnes in an embarrassing incident that maybe they don’t like to talk about! Maybe, I don’t know!”

He cleared his throat as they stared at him, shrinking back a bit. “Not that I know anything about that. Or anything.”

“Listen,” Janet continued, turning back to Bill. “If you think I’m such a bad kisser, why don’t you kiss me and find out!”

“What?” Bill exclaimed.

“Yes!” Steve cried.

“That cat is so cute,” Fred cooed, still looking down at his phone. “What are we talking about?”

Bill folded his arms defensibly against his chest with a scowl. “I’m not kissing you! It would go against everything I stand for!”

“C’mon, just one peck won’t hurt anything,” Janet whined, leaning forward and causing Bill to nearly trip over Steve in his haste to get away. “It’s not that bad.”

“Oh no!” Bill stammered, scrambling to the other side of the cubicle. “Uh-uh, no sir-ee, not happening! Demon be gone!”

They chased each other around the tiny cubicle for a considerable amount of time considering its small nature. Steve was cautiously attempting to calm them down, nearly getting trampled in the effort. Fred continued his post leaning against the all, calmly scrolling through more cat videos on Tumblr.

Janet shoved past Steve and Fred. She nearly fell on top of Bill who squeaked, backing up against the wall. “C’mon… just… one… kiss…” she huffed, panting from all the effort.

“Never!”

“Just move over a bit!”

“Get off me, foul beast!”

“Stop—moving—!”

“Hey—!”

“Augh!”

“Ouch!”

“Just sit still—”

Steve crossed his arms, watching. “Ah, young love, am I right Fred?”

Fred glanced up from his phone, frowning down at him. “You know we’re the same age, right?”

“I’m thirty-eight.”

“You’re what?!”

Bill pushed at her shoulders, grunting as he struggled to free himself. “Get off you lecherous Jezebel—MMPH!” His arms pinwheeled by his sides as she mushily pressed her lips to his. It lasted only for a moment—it was only a peck, really, certainly not something to write home about—and then Janet was off him and Bill grasped at the wall behind him, wild-eyed like a caged beast.

“So was I good k—”

“Doesn’t count!” Bill cried immediately, leaping up from his position against the wall. “That does not count!” He tore at his lips with his nails as though he could physically remove the kiss. To everyone’s surprise it came off with a wet smacking noise and they all stared, in shocked horror, at a Chapstick mask of Bill’s lips.

So heavy had been Steve’s application that it had created an entirely new set of lips on top of Bill’s own, now extremely un-chapped, actual ones, Curiously, Janet tugged off a set of her own lips, poking at it curiously.

Bill fingered his own for a second before glancing up triumphantly at Janet. “Hah! This proves it doesn’t count! If it didn’t actually touch my lips then it didn’t happen!”

Fred furrowed his eyebrows, stuffing his phone in his back pocket. “I’m not sure that’s exactly how—”

Steve strolled forward, casually plucking the fake pair of lips from each of their hands. At their confused looks he explained, “I’ll be taking these for… safety reasons. Can’t have these just lying around the office, someone could eat them. Safety reasons, yes.” He repeated the phrase under his breath, shoving them both inside his pockets.

Fred watched him as he did, blanching. “Is no one gonna question that? No one? Really? Of course not. Why would we?”

Janet ignored the two, crossing her arms defiantly. “Well that’s not fair! You didn’t even get to see if I was a good kisser, which completely defeats the point!” She sighed, starting towards him. “I guess we’ll just have to do it again.”

Bill huffed in exasperation. “Are you serious right now? I’m not kiss—woooaahHH!”

Fred had picked Bill up by the waist, hoisting him into the air. Bill and Janet blinked at the sudden action, words failing, Finally Bill managed to say, in a weak chuckle, “Uh… Fred? What are you doing?”

Fred spoke in a casual tone, grunting and hefting Bill so he was slung more comfortably over his shoulder. “A while ago, at the beginning of our friendship, I made a deal with the devil that I would never allow someone to harm Bill or do something to him that he didn’t want them to.”

If they had been confused before it was doubled now. ‘What the heck are you talking about?” Bill demanded, smacking his back in protest. “We’ve been friends since we were five!”

“Yeah. I was a pretty ambitious child. I knew people in important places if you know what I mean.”

“No?”

“Anyway, someone down there’s really looking out for you.” He patted Bill’s back in a reassuring manner. “In return I got certain… allowances on my morality. I was granted exceptions to certain moral no-nos. Like murder, for example.”

“You murdered people?” Janet exclaimed. “At six?”

“I said like murder,” Fred corrected. “And no, obviously not at six, I just knew what I wanted to do in the future.”

“You didn’t answer her question,” Bill pointed out, shaking an accusatory finger. Though his current position meant that he was pointing more towards the opposite wall than Fred.”

“No,” Fred agreed, his voice quiet and musing. “I didn’t.”

There was a brief silence.

“I’m sorry, what?” Bill asked incredulously. Fred glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow. Although, Bill looked more hurt than shocked. “Are you saying you’re only friends with me because of an exchange you made with the devil?”

Fred’s gaze softened. “Bill. Trust me. No deal with the devil is worth putting up with you. I like you for you—I know, I was weirded out at first too.”

Bill smiled. “Aw, thanks bud. I think. I’m not sure if that was a compliment or not.”

“Of course,” Fred amended. “The deal with the devil thing has impacted parts of our friendship. You’d be surprised how many near-death experiences a guy can have. But other than that, our friendship is the real deal. Getting a discount of Heaven is just an added bonus.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Janet murmured; during this entire exchange she had been staring at her feet with an expression of great concentration. “That I can’t kiss Bill?”

“No,” Fred agreed.

“What?” Steve said despairingly. He had been quiet thus far and now they all glanced over at him in surprise. In his hands he had the two Chapstick lips pressed against each other, his own lips pursed from making kissing noises, When he noticed them looking he flushed, shoving them sheepishly back into his pocket. “I mean… I’m just gonna… go… over there… kay…”

After he had gone, Bill fixed Janet with an annoyed look. “Are we still on the kissing thing? Look, I’m gonna makes this very clear. I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever kiss Janet! The very sight of her disgusts and revolts me in every way! So you guys might as well just give up o this whole kissing fantasy right now!”

Janet’s lips wobbled as he spoke, her chin dimpling, “You think I’m disgusting?” she sniveled, a tear clinging to her eyelashes.

“Yes!” Bill exclaimed irritably. The sight of Janet crying made him squirm inwardly for reasons he didn’t yet understand. He was probably getting sick. From how gross she was. Obviously. “I’ve been trying to tell you all that for years!”

A tear slipped onto her cheek, followed by more in quick succession. “C’mon ma,” Fred said, jostling him. “Can’t you at least try to be a little nicer? Look, you’re making her cry.”

Guilt knocked against Bill’s heart like an unwanted houseguest, but he had a reputation to uphold. “It’s not my fault if her face makes me want to barf.”

Janet let out a pitiful wail, collapsing on the ground like a petulant child. “Ste-e-e-eve!” she whined, wiping snot from her nose. “They’re being mean to me!”

“I am not!” Bill protested.

Steve walked over, crouching down next to Janet. He rubbed her shoulder, murmuring quiet consolations. “There, there, I’m sure they didn’t mean to.” He shot a hard look up at Bill who stiffened under his intense gaze. “Bill, apologize to Janet.”

Bill crossed his arms, nearly falling off Fred in the process. “I—”

“And why is Fred holding you?” He narrowed his eyes. “You guys better not be ruining my ship. Because if you’re ruining my ship, I swear to all that is cute and glittery—"

Bill flushed. “Oh. Right. Fred, you can set me down now.”

Fred lowered him back down to the ground and Bill was once again met with the disappointment of his short stature, no longer held above the others like an avenging god. “As I was saying, I will NOT apologize to Janet, as I think she is unworthy of an apology, considering how horrible and dumb she is as a whole.”

Janet curled up into herself, deep sobs wrenching her body. “Hey now, don’t cry,” Steve murmured. “Don’t let what he said get to you. Bill’s just being stupid.”

“Hey!”

“Here, how about this? What do you normally do to cheer up?”

Janet sat up and wiped her face on her sleeve. “Well,” she started slowly, hiccups plaguing her words. “Usually I go home to my ginormous mansion and talk to the alligators in the moat for comfort—”

“Wait, what?” Steve asked, his smile dipping.

“And after that I take a long relaxing honey and milk bath with rose petals scattered throughout the water to cleanse my skin.”

“Hold on—”

“And then I have the most talented orchestra in all of America come and sing me a soothing lullaby—”

“Orchestra—!"

“And finally I sink into my silky velvety sheets wearing my gold-rimmed nightgown—”

“I’m gonna stop you there,” Steve interrupted.

Janet glanced up at him, confused. “What? Why?”

Steve brushed off the dust on his knees, one eye twitching minimally. “I’m sure you can figure out how to cheer yourself up Janet, without telling us all about your home life. Your amazing, awesome home life. That it not better than ours, because money doesn’t matter. But even still, there’s really no need to go on and on about it.”

Janet frowned, drying her eyes fully. “What do you mean? I wasn’t even finished—”

“That’s quite alright. We’ll just have to finish the conversation some other time.”

He grabbed the computer off the floor, brushing past the others who were staring at him in confusion. “Do I still have to apologize to Janet?” Bill asked, raising his hand in the air. Steve ignored him, exiting the cubicle and marching down the long, light-up hall to his office. “Steve? Does that mean I don’t have to? Steve? I’m gonna take that as a no.”

Janet puckered her lips. “He always does this whenever I bring up my house.”

Fred sucked in a large intake of breath. “Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t mention that so much around Steve. He tends to get… jealous, to put it lightly.”

Janet sighed, cupping her chin in her hand. “It’s really getting in the way of our conversation. I hadn’t even gotten to the part where I bathe in money—guys?”

#mcdonalds incorporated #fiction #original content

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simple-nexus · 5 years

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1 // (<< read from the beginning)

The stones strike the surface of the water, but do not skip, because a fatherless child is not taught to skip stones.

A father (not his father) stands behind him on the lakeshore, a few paces back, eyelessly watching the hills that rise around them, bathed in late afternoon light. His hand rests lightly on the hilt of the blade, unexalted at his side, and in the rare moments when he isn’t watching the hills, he watches the child who isn’t his.

The stones strike the water as though in anger, as though the boy who throws them wouldn’t want them to skip, even if he knew how to skip them. Pain and fear and helpless, childish rage find their expression in the stones he throws at the surface, at being orphaned yet again.

But Natah was never a mother. The Tenno cannot be a child. And Umbra is no longer a father, though those same feelings still stir from deep within him, as he watches the boy on the lakeshore.

“The worst part is the way he thinks he’s helping!”

Another stone strikes the water.

It’s not the first thing he’s said, but it’s the first proper outburst, the Tenno’s voice rising and cracking slightly with emotion, revealing the tantrum for what it is. He’s been ranting quietly to himself ever since he started throwing stones. His words have mostly been lost on the wind, mutterings caught on the breeze and blown to all corners of the Plains of Eidolon, though Umbra has caught and heard every one of them, and the anger and pain that they carry.

“Like he thinks I need her, like I ever needed her, because I didn’t and I don’t!”

Now he shouts loud enough that Umbra lifts his head slightly, alive and aware of his own volition, unlike the puppets that fill the Orbiter, waiting obediently high above the surface of the Earth, and the mad, tragic Cephalon who cannot hear what’s being shouted about him, and the form he has chosen to synthesize as he passes on alerts and directives from all corners of the Origin system. As though he’s helping.

Lately the Operator has responded to fewer and fewer of these. Lately, he has instead chosen to spend his time on Earth, in Cetus or the plains around it, and in the flesh, rather than hidden away within the Somatic Link, endlessly dreaming.

And lately, perhaps for lack of anyone better—because he has been fatherless for millenia, and motherless for months now—he chooses Umbra’s company.

Another warframe would stand empty and dead on the shore behind him, an empty cage without a bird within. Another warframe would not wait or watch or guard the Tenno’s flank, or listen as he throws a tantrum on the shore of Gara Toht lake, and disturbs stones from where they’ve rested for millenia, to make ripples upon the water that last only moments.

“I found something to do without her. I found my own mission. And I’m doing it—we’re doing it—without her. And without him, pretending to be her.”

The Operator is only mad because he’s deseperately lonely. And while it’s obvious that the Operator is mad, the only reason Umbra knows the Operator is lonely is because there’s only room for one mind within a warframe, and when the Tenno seizes control of Excalibur Umbra, Transference flows both ways. And the pair of them flow together, kindred in ways beyond blood and flesh.

And so Umbra prefers to stand on the shore at the Operator’s back, watching him rage impotently at the emptiness of his life without the Lotus. Umbra has borne fathomless rage and unimaginable pain and boundless grief across the course of countless centuries—and yet the quiet, hidden pain of a motherless child, forlorn and lost in an uncaring universe, seems somehow to wound him anew.

Another stone strikes the surface of the lake, and then falls, silent and meaningless, into its depths.

Rank and file, by and large, the Grineer do not know that one of their queens is dead. The queens are beloved, Elder and Younger, and at the news of one’s death, there would be chaos and despair, and the fear and terror inspired by the Grineer command is nothing compared to the fanatical love and devotion shown to the Grineer Queens, false though they are. Or were, for the Elder is dead, assassinated by a lone Tenno, assisted by the treacherous Teshin Dax.

The Worm Queen maintains the fiction that her sister is merely fallen ill, and that the most elite of their forces gather Kuva to heal her. This lends a fanaticism to the ground troops, beyond the genetically engineered and inborn loyalty to the queens, for they know only too well what it’s like to sicken and die, withering and wasting into death, and would do anything to spare their beloved queen her suffering.

If the lie rankles within the ranks of the Grineer command, they cannot fault the fervor it spurs in their troops. If the truth is that the Elder Queen is dead, and that it’s only the madness of grief that drives her sister to scour the system for Kuva—then there is leverage to be gained by winning her favour. Councillor Vay-Hek seeds the plains with more Ghouls than ever, and hopes to convince his remaining queen that the Orokin Temple behind the walls of Cetus contains all the Kuva she could desire.

To that end, his spies have sought out and traced the Tenno responsible for the assassination. By some cosmic serendipity, it lately seems drawn to Cetus and the plains around it, and has insisently made a damned nuisance of itself, harrassing the troops that guard the excavation efforts on the Plains of Eidolon, and cutting wide swaths through Vay Hek’s precious Ghouls, newly emerged from the earth, before they even have a chance to make their war on Cetus.

He has petitioned the Worm Queen herself, and she has promised him an assassin of his own. She has not promised him where or when her assassin will strike, but she has promised that when they do, if the Tenno falls and Vay Hek delivers her the corpse she so craves—then he will have whatsoever of her favours he could ever ask, be repaid a thousand times over. He will have forces enough to storm Cetus and ravage its people, and to topple the Unum tower into Mer-Sah Bay, so that the blood of the Ostron will run red to the shores, mingling with the Temple Kuva as it floats on the surface of the sea, to be harvested for the glory of the Grineer.

But it all begins with the bullet meant to kill the Tenno, the real Tenno, the demon child that hides behind the warframe.

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#warframe #warframe operator #warframe fic #operator: nero #excalibur umbra #some kind of creative doubt

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mconaldsincorporated · 4 years

Text

Reading & Demonic Bargains

Notes: I do not own McDonalds or anything relating to it.

Summary: Steve learns to read and some interesting things are revealed about Fred’s past.