#so kings whole deal is that hes very poor and went to war to send money back to his mother | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aajjks · 6 months

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TC!dad!JK

your lip is quivering when he leaves and you bite your lip to keep yourself from crying. why is it that every time you think you’re doing something good you end up hurting yourself more. now the poor girl is going to die because of you. you feel awful with the decision you made but isn’t this how it always works?

you open the door hoping you’ll find georgina before jungkook does but here she is right in front of you. “i heard everything” she says in a panic before walking in the room and pacing back and forth. “i’m too young to die” georgina panics and you try to calm her down but she yells at you too.

“well why didn’t you lie and say you were just a maid? he wasn’t supposed to know you were his concubine, idiot” you fireback and georgina feels that no matter what response she gave he would’ve been angry with her presence. “c’mon” you tell her and before you exit the room, you look around for jungkook who isn’t around. you then head in the opposite direction he went which is where the stables were. maids and servants each helped you sneak the hispanian princess to the stables and when she arrives safely, you let her take a palace horse and ride back home.

you even instruct a guard to ride back with her to ensure her safety which georgina is shocked by your kindness because she was sure you didn’t like her.

once she arrives home, she would inform her father to provide goods for just you and your children but mainly you. the guards watch the whole ordeal but don’t say anything and because jungkook was dealing with his kids he isn’t aware of it either.

“if jungkook asks where georgina went, you LIE and say that she has been captured and is locked up. he won’t see her until tomorrow or later on tonight because of the gala so as long as you look truthful, he’ll believe you” you tell the maids that were involved who are surely risking their lives by hiding the truth.

they each nod their heads and you head to minsoo to fix your hair. once she fixes it again she asks if you’re okay but you tell her that you want to be left alone for a moment.

you hear music playing in the ballroom and to make sure jungkook doesn’t barge in unexpectedly, you lock the door.

while being left alone, you take a look at yourself in the mirror. your eyes are searching for something you’re not sure of. the longer you look at yourself, tears just begin to fall.

you can’t recognize what you’re seeing looking back at you. you’re not even sure that this you is you.

the mother, the queen, the partner, you’re not sure if any of this is you.

you don’t even know who you are anymore.

“mom?” you hear jinseoul knocking on the other side of the door. “dad is looking for you” he says.

“h-hi seoul. uh, i’ll be out in a sec okay? where is your father?” you ask while cleaning your face up to look like you haven’t been crying.

“he’s talking to a king about something. he told me to check on you”

you open the door and smile when you see your oldest soon dressed in such formal fashion. “you look pretty, mom” says jinseoul who reaches to hold your hand. “aw thank you. you look so handsome, jinseoul. c’mon let’s go see your father”

~🫧

play reflection from mulan to get the vibe here 💔 welcome to y/n’s existential crisis

He knew that blowing up on you like that wasn’t the best thing he’s ever done, but he’s still very much angry, as he talks to the king right in front of him, he sends his oldest son to go and look for you.

He had to make sure that you were alright one way or another, even though he didn’t want to talk to you right now. Jungkook looks all over the place for you. His eyes vendor around the palace hallways.

But right now, the princess is on his mind.

How is he going to get rid of her? He has to no matter what. And he’s not scared of war. “let’s talk later.” he says to the other king and they both bow to each other.

As soon as he leaves the older man, he walks around the grand hallway to look for you, and then his eyes finally catch you and your son, hand in hand together.

The whole palace goes silent as the guards announce your presence, along with the Crown Prince. Jungkook doesn’t care, he joins the both of you.

Jinseoul immediately senses the tension between his parents and excuses himself. Jungkook waits for awhile to speak and he takes the opportunity as soon as the people go back to chatting.

“where is the princess?” He looks at you.

And oh wow, he almost stutters. You look so ethereal, so beautiful. You’re really looking like a queen, literally.

“I can’t see her anywhere, do you happen to know where that whorey princess is? And..” he clicks his tongue. “I need the answer to the question I asked you earlier today.” He grands your waist and pulls you close to him.

His eyes set on you and lips pressed in a straight line.

#ask: tc!jungkook #😭 sad

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pemfrost · 3 years

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For the prompt, maybe a fake dating au with dimiclaude? Like academy-era Dimitri decided to go asks girl out (sylvain c/b support ) and when things go out of hand- instead of going to sylvain for help, he went to Claude who suggested fake dating - but when announcing it to the girl; it turns out the entire academy finds out...leading to the king regent (who sends Rodrigue) and Grandpa Riegan to actually sign a marriage arrangement. 🥺❤️

And honestly Edelgard is confused about the development that she doesn’t declare war since the two nations are gonna team up -so golden ending jk

♡ cute idea! The meat of this drabble went a little long, so no specific mention of the royal consequences.

"You did what?" Claude actually had the audacity to laugh. Not one of his usual calculated laughs, either. A bellow of a laugh which shook his whole lithe frame and put an extra shine in his eyes. All at Dimitri's expense, of course. It seemed to be happening a lot lately.

"Never mind. Clearly this is not a matter you are capable of taking seriously." Dimitri turned to leave, but quickly remembered his predicament. On Sylvain's insistence, he approached a female student with the offer of a tea date. Nothing untoward, but it seemed the poor girl thought it to be more than what Dimitri meant it to be. It really was his own fault for taking Sylvian's advice, afterall.

Of course, Sylvain initially offered to help Dimitri hide in his room, and Dimitri had been naive enough to think it would end then and there. Yet, there he was, two days later with the same girl chasing him and Sylvain was… preoccupied doing the very thing he promised Dimitri he would stop.

Claude's room seemed the next logical escape plan. It was merely the convenience of location. Felix was still at the training yards, and even if he was in his room, Dimitri would rather face the advances of Colleen and her friends than be stuck in close quarters with Felix and his sharp tongue. The next closest room was Claude's.

Dimitri was quickly regretting his hasty choice of hiding spots. He was regretting a lot of things.

"I'm sorry for laughing, but you have to admit it is funny." Claude sat down on the edge of his bed and motioned to his desk chair, "You're welcome to hide as long as you need to. Though, perhaps it is best to just confront the whole thing head on and clear it all up?"

Dimitri eyed the chair and considered a moment before sitting. "I have attempted to be direct, yet my efforts are constantly misconstrued."

"You're too nice," Claude said, his gaze intense.

"Too… nice?" Dimitri raised an eyebrow. It was not an accusation often leveled at him.

"I've witnessed some of your conversations with girls and you have a tendency to, well, be too nice." Claude broke eye contact and looked towards the door. "You do not wish to hurt their feelings, so you phrase your rejections so delicately the girls do not take it as one."

"Oh?" Dimitri was unaware of this shortcoming.

Claude sighed and made a vague gesture at the door as a girl giggled out in the hallway. He turned back to Dimitri and said, with air quotes, "There is such love in the world, yet my heart is yet-"

"-I get it.'

"Your beauty is unmatched, and one day you will make the most beautiful bride-"

"Claude," Dimitri hissed. He could feel his cheeks begin to warm.

Of course, Claude continued, his grin spreading as Dimitri shifted uncomfortably. "My heart is heavy at the prospect of you no longer being at my side, and your smile will-"

"Enough!" Dimitri stood quickly and his booming voice drowned out the sound of the chair hitting the floor.

"Colleen!" A girl's voice came from the hallway.

"Oooo, you did it now!" Claude clasped his hands behind his head and looked at the door with far too much amusement.

Dimitri stared at the door with trepidation, debating the merits of crawling out Claude's window. He could hear the clicking of multiple pairs of heels, his time was quickly running out. Returning his voice to a whisper, he turned to Claude and asked, "What do I do?"

"Be blunt and tell her you are not interested."

"I… can you do it for me?" Even facing certain doom, he didn't know how to break up with the poor girl without making it worse. Again.

Claude rolled his eyes. "Riiight, because that will work."

There was a sharp knock at the door, followed by a croon of, "Dimiiiitri! Are you in there?"

"Colleen, it may have been this one instead!"

Dimitri backed away from the door and again wondered if he could fit through the window. He looked helplessly to Claude. He had no experience in such matters, certainly Claude had an idea.

"Do you trust me?" Claude stood from the bed and stared into his eyes. "I have half an idea, but I need you to-"

"Yes. Whatever your scheme is, yes." Dimitri may regret it later, but in the moment his only option was to trust Claude and deal with the consequences later. It couldn't be worse than entertaining the vapid noble girl one more time.

Claude stared into Dimitri's eyes a moment more, his green eyes more serious than Dimitri had ever seen this close. Before he could contemplate Claude further, the look shifted, once again full of mirth.

"Quietly unlock the door." Claude nodded to the door and crossed his arms.

"I-" Dimitri swallowed and did as he was asked. Quietly, he stepped over the overturned chair and flicked the lock. He braced for the next step, it wouldn't surprise him if Claude shouted his location as revenge for all of this. He needed to stop spending so much time with Sylvain.

When he looked back, Claude wordlessly motioned him back to him with the wave of a single finger. Once again, Dimitri stepped over the chair and stood in front of Claude, intently listening to the commotion in the hallway.

Nothing happened for a few breaths, and just a Dimitri was about to ask what the plan was, Claude took half a step towards him.

"Oh! Dimitri!" Claude projected his voice, not taking his eyes off Dimitri.

Well, maybe he shouldn't have expected more from Claude. His initial assessment was correct after all. He sighed, resigned to his fate.

The click of heels returned, and as they approached the door Claude reached for the front of Dimitri's shirt and slowly tugged at him as he took a step backwards. The movement was unexpected and Dimitri stumbled forward, tripping over Claude, and sending them falling to Claude's bed.

Dimitri caught his knee on the edge of the mattress as Claude landed on his elbows.

"Claude? Wha-"

The creak of the door handle turning cut him off. As the door opened, Claude reached back up with one hand and pulled Dimitri closer, and closer, until they were breathing the same air. Everything else faded, all that existed was Claude; his breath smelled faintly of chamomile, and this close Dimitri could count the faint freckles under his eyes.

"Dimit- ah!" Colleen's screech broke the spell Claude cast over him.

Dimitri pushed himself away from Claude and looked towards the door in time to see Colleen running out.

"Uh…" Dimitri said to the empty doorway. He looked down to Claude, "What just happened?"

Claude dropped his hand from where he still held Dimitri, letting it fall to his side. "I wasn't expecting her to run so soon. The plan was to make her think we're together- but she didn't stay for me to tell her that. Hopefully she understood."

He didn't want to end up in another relationship just to get out of the first one. That was a terrible plan, and he was about to tell Claude as such when the boy in question began to laugh. Dimitri became abruptly aware of how close they still were as Claude's body shook with laughter.

Dimitri stood as quickly as his trembling legs permitted.

"I'm sorry, but your face!" Claude smirked up at him, still laying on the bed. "I didn't mean date for real," he added with a whisper, mindful of the open door.

"Oh, I see…" Dimitri did not see.

"It's a farce. A lie. And once she leaves you alone we don't need to pretend anymore."

"She saw… us. In that compromising position. I am free then? Thank you." Dimitri slowly pieced his words together.

Claude hummed and finally sat up. "It may not be that simple. Be prepared in case she doubles down tomorrow."

Dimitri nodded and cleared his throat. His eyes trailed towards Claude's lips briefly before he turned to pick up the fallen chair. "Hopefully I will not require more assistance. Thank you for your efforts, this farce was not something I would have considered."

With a shrug, Claude stood. "Always happy to help. Good luck with-" They both froze as the sound of heels returned.

Dimitri turned to Claude, eyes wide, unsure what to do. His hope of being done with Colleen dashed with the click of a heel.

"Still trust me?"

Dimitri nodded.

"I'm going to kiss you." Claude stepped up to Dimitri and gently placed a hand on his cheek. As the girls stepped into the doorway, he leaned up to press his lips to Dimitri's.

In the few seconds he had to contemplate kissing Claude, Dimitri imagined it would be rough, quick- awkward. It was none of them, and he found himself leaning into the kiss, moving his lips against Claude's like his very soul depended on them never separating. He thought he finally understood Sylvain a little, the desire to experience this everyday, to have someone so close, so intimate, to feel wanted-

But it wasn't real. Claude wasn't kissing him because he wanted Dimitri, he was doing it as a friend, as a favor. Not because he actually desired him in such a way.

"By the Goddess! It is true!" Hilda's sweet voice broke through the moment.

Claude dropped his hand and turned to the door, breaking the kiss. Dimitri could feel the lingering heat on his cheek from Claude's calloused hand, and he let his eyes dart to his lips before reality caught up with him and he looked towards their audience.

In the open doorway stood three of their classmates. Hilda was in the middle, looking like she was solving an advanced math problem. To her right was Caspar, who was more focused on Hilda than Claude and Dimitri. And to her left was Sylvain who was sporting black eye and looking between the two of them with a widening smile.

Sylvain reached around Hilda and closed the door with a wink and an amused, "Have fun, you two!"

Dimitri stared at the door as he listened to them walk away. "Should we tell them?"

"Tell them what?"

"That it isn't what they think? Because otherwise this lie will spread around the whole school."

"Oh, Dimitri. It already has. If Colleen hasn't ran all the way through the monastery by now I'd be surprised." He looked everywhere but Dimitri.

"If we tell them the truth, then she'll find out… and I'll be right back to square one." Dimitri frowned and began to pace.

"I don't mind keeping the charade up. It will keep Hilda off my back about dating someone, too. We'd both be free of the burden of that aspect of social expectations."

"That-" Dimitri's eyes darted to Claude's lips.

"No pressure, man. Wouldn't want His Highness to be uncomfortable, afterall."

Dimitri couldn’t think of a good reason not to go along with Claude's plan. He was sure the consequences would find him, they always did, but he found he didn't care what they were.

He nodded, then realized Claude turned to look out the window while he was thinking. "Yes, I believe this could be mutually beneficial."

Claude dropped back to his bed and picked up the book he tossed aside when Dimitri barged into his room. "Great. Hang out in here for a while to sell it. Want to borrow a book?"

Dimitri settled next to Claude on the bed, "If we are to actually… do this, we should get our story together. I am sure we will be inundated with questions tomorrow."

Claude shut his book. "And he I was worried you wouldn't take this seriously. Alright, let's plan."

Thanks for reading!

#dimiclaude #pem writes #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #claude von riegan #ask request

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warrioreowynofrohan · 3 years

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Doriath and Men

This is a follow-up to my previous post on Doriathrin relations with other elves, because there’s several interesting aspects to be examined here.

Doriathrin Policy

The first thing that will come to most people’s minds regarding Doriath and the Edain is Thingol sending Beren on a suicide quest to prevent him and Lúthien from getting married, but there’s a lot more going with between Doriath and humans than just that.

Their relations with the Haladin are unique in being the only situation in the history of Beleriand where Men have an independent community without an elven liege-lord. The Beorings and Hadorians have their own kings, but they’re liegemen to the the House of Finarfin and the House of Fingolfin respectively. In the agreement mediated beyween the Haladin and Doriath by Finrod Felagund, the Haladin live in the Forest of Brethil with complete independence, and agree for their part to defend Brethil and the Crossings of Teiglin from the forces of Morgoth (of which Haleth says - in essence and very bluntly - “Morgoth killed my family; we were obviously going to do that anyway”).

Despite this committment, Doraith doesn’t expect the Haladin to defend Brethil on their own, nor is Doriath uninvolved in the wars of Beleriand. Halmir, lord of the Haladin, is friends with the Sindar who defend Doriath, and during the Battle of Sudden Flame, when the Haladin are attacked by orcs, he rapidly sends to Thingol for assisstance, which Thingol provides in the form of a for e led by Beleg and including a large number of Sindar armed with axes (they’re not solely archers!), who fight alongside the Haladin and destroy the orcs. (This is the battle in which Húrin and Huor are separated from their army, and are rescued by Thorondor and taken to Gondolin.) The Doriathrim continue to assist in the defense of Brethil after the Nirnaeth - the region of Dimbar where Beleg is stationed on the border defense (and where he urges to Túrin to return, when Túrin is with the outlaws) is directly on the northeast border of Brethil.

This connection of Húrin to the Edain allies of Doriath was likely part of why Thingol chose to foster Túrin. A larger part, to my mind, was Thingol realizing that he had bern wrong in his treatment of Beren and attempting to atone for it in his treatment of Túrin. And Thingol and Melian clearly came to care for Túrin a great deal and went very far out of his way to look after him, even when Túrin was being his stubbornnest. They sent messengers on the very dangerous road to Dor-lomin so that Túrin could have news of his family. They sent Beleg to look for him invite him back even after Túrin had humiliated and murdered one of Thingol’s top advisors; when Túrin refused, Thingol again sent Beleg - one of his leading soldiers - away from the front lines where he was needed, to look after Túrin instead. And Melian sent lembas to Túrin’s band of brigands, which was practically unheard of.

So on the whole, I would say that Doriath’s relations with the Edain were good, and the primary negative point in that relationship, is the Leithian, was the result of Thingol being an overprotective father rather than directly related to foreign policy. Their relationship with tne Edain was not a close as that of the Noldor and Edain in Hithlum or Dorthonion, but it was, interestingly, a more equal one. However, very few Men ever entered Doriath prior to the fall of the Girdle of Melian - only Beren, Túrin, Morwen, Nienor, and Húrin, and that ties into a second element.

Doriath as Faerie

Doriath’s role in both the Leithian and the Narn i Hîn Húrin is, from the outside, human perspective, very much the role of the Fae in folklore. In the Leithian, it’s even referred to a Faerie. In folklore, men who go to Faerie meet strange fates; the might get strange powers as well, but they pay for them. Faerie is unknown, and the Fair Folk are an uncanny and dangerous people.

Likewise, men who go into Doriath meet strange fates and strange dooms. Beren is enchanted and walks first into Tol-in-Gaurhoth and then directly into Angband for the sake of the Faerie princess he loves; it’s said that he returns from the dead, though none among Men ever see him again and cannot say if this is truth or legend. Not many years later, young Túrin is sent to the elves - on purpose, in an inversion of myths around changelings - and when he comes out he has a strange doom and strange powers, seems unlike the rest of his people, and brings disaster on all whom he encounters; and his mother and sister, who also go to Doriath, likewise meet terrible fates. Yes, we know that’s due to Morgoth’s curse (and Túrin’s own lack of impulse control), but to an average Man in Beleriand the implications are clear: getting involved in Faerie is dangerous, and the powers aren’t worth the cost.

(Similarly the elves of Doriath, the easiest conclusion to reach from their direct interactions with Edain is that Doriath’s problem was not being isolationist enough. Beren comes, and their princess leaves and dies. Túrin comes, kills one of the king’s counsellors, leaves, goes to Nargothrond - Doriath’s strongest remaining ally - usurps rule, and gets it destroyed. Húrin brings the Nauglamír, leading to the death of the King and the departure of the Queen. If no Edain ever came to Doriath, none of this would have happened. What I’m saying is, Morgoth got a lot of mileage out of his curse on Húrin’s family - not only the destruction of the family itself, but the destruction of Doriath and Nargothrond, and a foundation for distrust between Edain and Sindar.)

The Successor of Doriath - The Woodland Realm

Given this strange history, one might expect that the elves who identify most closely as the successors of Doriath in the Second and Third Age - those who leave Lindon for Greenwood the Great and set up a new forest kingdom whose halls are modelled on Menegroth - might have poor relations with Men. But as of the late Third Age, that’s not the case at all. The Wood-elves of what is by then Mirkwood are the only group of elves we seen who have close relations with non-Edain Men. (Or that’s my u derstabding of the heritage of the men of Lake-town - they’re dustant relations of the Bree-men, the men of Rhovanion, and perhaps even more distantly the Rohirrim, not of the Númenoreans.) They’ve got a regular, mundane, commercial relationship with them, and regular, everyday, working elves (the raft-men of the king) are a commonplace sight in Esgaroth. (Is this the only time we see elves with a regular, non-security, non-military day job? I think it might be.) The Wood-elves provide assistance to the men of Esgaroth after it’s destroyed, amd are its allies in the subsequent mess/battle.

Compare this to the relationship of literally any other Third Age elf-kingdom with regular, everyday, non-Númenorean-descended men. Rivendell is the Last Homely House for adventurous travellers, yes, and it fosters the heirs of Elendil, yes, but you wouldn’t see an average Bree-lander heading out there for a drink and a chat. The Rohirrim think Galadriel is a dangerous sorceress, and even Faramir thinks that Lórien, though good, is also eldritch and better avoided out of prudence. That’s how men think of Elves in most of Middle-earth. And meanwhile the Lake-men are going, “Oh, elves? Yeah, that’s the folks who buy wine from us! And at a good price too! They grow some fine apples!”

Which, as legacies go, is a pretty nice one, unexpected as it might be.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #the hobbit #the lord of the rings #doriath #thingol #túrin #thranduil #mirkwood #esgaroth #rivendell #lothlorien

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guileheroine · 3 years

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a sky full of song, chapter one

Korra, princess of the Water Kingdoms, receives a gift from her blacksmith friend on the auspicious winter festival / Korrasami royalty AU / ao3 / My piece for the @korrasami-valentine-exchange (assignment: Date A) (reposting with cover!)

“The wedding of the Earth Prince, yes, on the solstice. But it’s an opportune moment for a longer tour, we don’t want to waste the journey. I’m afraid your father can’t afford it, and before you ask, I’ve been conferring with your mother’s office. And frankly, I’m loath to request it of her after…

Councillor Panak trailed off as Korra hurried him along with a gesture of the hand. He pushed his eyeglass up his nose and took her eye seriously. “To the point, then—what do you say?”

Korra was tapping her foot under the meeting table. Prince Wu, if she recalled, was equally as intolerable as old Hou-Ting, the spirits bless his poor betrothed. But the prospect of a fortnight around the Earth Kingdom, with its delicious fare and diverse landscapes… that made her much more amenable to the whole idea.

“Around the solstice, huh? Alright. Why not.” It was a way off. She had time to arrange her retinue and her schedule as efficiently as possible for maximum enjoyment.

“…That means a tour to the Earth Empire in the spring—or summer, if Her Royal Highness prefers it?”

“Oh, spring,” Korra said in a rush. “Spring. I’m not sure I can do Earthen summers.”

Panak smiled quite kindly at that, and nodded at his scribe to jot it down. Korra returned his smile. They really were getting along better. It was nice. This meeting was also stretching much farther into the evening than she had understood it would.

The Lotus Guard at the doorway didn’t so much as blink as she pushed the heavy door open and went out. He was one of the older men, having been here long before the war, and quite accustomed to her ways.

Once Korra was out in the foyer, she raced. Her quarters, and her next appointment, were in the other wing of the palace, but she had promised to go see her mother first for a few minutes before the Queen went to bed. The winter sun was long gone; all the windows she skipped past were dark, torchlight gleaming on the icy sills. In the halls, on the other hand, the air was bright as frost, festive. She wove around decorators from all over Agna Qel’a hanging new crystalwork along the old bead tapestries and tying berry wreaths around the tall pillars. Down the stairs, in the main hall, the humongous fires that burnt uninterrupted over the winter lit the place generously. As she sped through, headed for the opposite staircase, Korra caught the eye of one of the housekeepers.

“Mina! Mina, are you busy?” She took the girl’s arm, whose eyes goggled, alarmed only at the princess’s sudden appearance but unperturbed by her familiar ways. “Could you go to the kitchen and send for some tea to my apartment? Milk and honey for me—and some of whatever black blend is left, what my blacksmith friend likes. They’ll know. Thank you!”

When she turned to continue, she was immediately waylaid by one of the ice sculptors.

“Your Highness! A moment.”

Just a moment to breathe was exactly what it took for Korra to finally notice the centerpiece of the hall: an elaborate sculpture-fountain of Yue. The moon and ocean spirits hovered above each of her hands, water pouring in gentle arcs out of their gaping mouths.

Korra’s father was pulling out all the stops for Yue’s Day. She knew, for her part, that it was a private gesture for the Queen, newly returned from a long diplomatic engagement with the northern Air court. Korra stood at attention for the sculptor, whose fingerless gloves allowed him to bend with especial precision.

“Should her hair run—” he said, bending Yue’s locks of ice into free-flowing rivulets, “or stand arrested?” Another curl of his palm froze them again.

“Freeze them. More volume!” Korra said, thinking of her mother, who always grumbled about her limp hair. Then she was on her way to the Queen’s chambers, and then her own.

“I got your tea. Hi, princess.”

Korra’s blacksmith friend took a pointed sip when she finally entered her drawing room. Asami’s smirk was hidden behind the glassy cup, and her hair was wet. One of Korra’s towels was slung over the back of her seat—one of the nice ones with the finely embroidered monogram.

“Asami. Sorry I’m late!” Korra slumped onto her divan, sending one of the cushions flying onto the carpet. “It’s good to see you.” She took a moment to catch her breath before picking the cushion up, sitting comfortably and grasping for the tray on the table.

“Don’t worry about it,” Asami said, moving the cup from her mouth, the smirk finally melting off. She pushed the tray into Korra’s reach. “I’m done for the day. A couple of the apprentices are closing up shop for the very first time.” Her brows waggled.

“Impressive! But still, thanks for coming. I know you’re working hard.”

“We had an appointment, right? And—” Asami grinned and stretched, pulling her warm wools tighter around her “nothing like the thought of a royal shower at the end of the day to get you through it, you know?”

Korra rolled her eyes. The staff knew to let Asami into Korra’s apartments, and even if she could tell they were a little reticent about her using the princess’s bath and vanity, they of course said nothing. The dogs more or less dragged Asami in through the gates every time she came by the palace, and by order of the princess, they were the ones that decided things in her absence.

Asami scrutinised the tray from the kitchen carefully before picking out a little moon pastry. “How was your meeting?” She took a bite, attentive both to the pastry and Korra.

“Looks like I’m going on tour to the Earth Kingdom in the spring,” Korra told her. She wasn’t surprised to see Asami’s brow spring up, and her taste-testing pause.

“What, all over?”

It was a town in the Earth Kingdom that Asami originally hailed from, before she travelled to the Fire Empire with her father, an innovator in the art of war. After the war’s end and the subsequent reunification of the Water Kingdoms, the newly humbled Sun Emperor had gifted King Tonraq an ancient forge for the royal armoury as a token of good faith and cultural exchange. Korra remembered how it had taken several pulleys, and days, for it to be transported into place in one of the main avenues in the city. They had set up a house around it for a new smith to eventually train locals in the foreign art. Asami—skilled as a metalworker, but bereft of a livelihood and a family after her father’s foundries were shut down—had decided to venture north to start afresh. She vied for the position and won it handily.

Korra glanced at her long. “You could come with me, you know. Take a vacation, if you manage to get this new shop set up in time. I’m sure you’ve trained all your underlings well.”

“We’re getting there,” Asami said vaguely. “But I’ll keep it in mind.”

Korra was musing, recumbent with her feet up now. “I must warn you, t’s for the wedding of the Queen’s nephew. They’re a lot stuffier in the Earth kingdom. All the pomp and pageantry,” she clarified. “I’m not looking forward to that part.”

“I’ll bet.” Asami gave her a sympathetic smile.

Sitting pretty in formal assemblies, she did not enjoy. Peace was harder than war, in a lot of ways. At least it was for Korra, who had been right at home as a strategist commanding the bending battalions in the few Fire Empire skirmishes that had reached the north. Or as a captain fending off the marauding warlords and shaman-kings in the southern fiefs who took advantage of the chaos to arouse the spirits and stage deadly rebellions. Her leadership, covert though it was, had played no small part in subduing the northern theater and paving the way for all the ancient Water tribes to be reunified under Agna Qel’a and her father’s leadership. The lasting peace of the years since had proven they were stronger together. Just as it had proven that the Princess’s patience for peacetime bureaucracy needed a good deal of practice.

“You should come. We’ll do you up as my retainer so you get a salary. I might need you to keep me straight.”

Asami was good at that, blowing off steam after long, boring days. The mellowness of the warmth, nothing like that of her forge, evened Korra’s mood like little else.

“Oh, so you want me to drop everything and trail you around as a handmaiden?”

Korra scoffed, embarrassed. “Well, don’t put it like that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Asami sat up. “An Earth royal wedding, huh? Think they’ll let me in?” She picked at the cushion in her lap.

“They will if I have anything to say about it.” Korra yawned. “It’ll be my turn soon enough.”

“How’s your mother?” Asami said, following her train of thought seamlessly—it was always the queen that pestered Korra about finding a match, good-natured but more earnest than she ever realised she was appearing.

“Sleeping. She had a long journey back from the Northern Air Temple. Dad’s happy, though. Just casually planning her a ball this weekend for Yue’s Day.”

“Hey, is that what that business down in the hall is?” Some forgotten curiosity clearly jolted Asami. “There were all these new kayaks moored around the drawbridges when I came through, too.”

Korra nodded, while tentative recognition continued to filter into Asami’s expression. It was easy to forget Asami had been here nary a year. But she had, and it had been a busy year too, with little time for exploration, per her own frequent complaints. “You know about it, right?” When Asami shrugged evasively, Korra explained, “It falls on the day of the first full moon after the winter solstice. Yue was a princess of legend—our ancestor, apparently—who became the moon spirit.”

Asami sat forward. She loved tales like this, and listened to them like she was being entrusted a secret.

“We’ve celebrated it as long as anyone remembers, but the festival is supposed to usher good fortune and fertility. I think that’s why it became a couples thing.” Korra didn’t think much of that. “But, well, the idea is to spend the evening under the full moon, which is why all the kayaks are out. Really, everyone just needs an excuse to liven up the winter!”

“That I understand,” Asami said wryly, ill accustomed to the polar night. “Yeah, I went to the market in town to pick up some new gloves and they had stalls and stalls of new fare. Jewelry, wind chimes, furs.”

Korra sat up, conspiratorial. “I bet at least one of your new proteges will sneak you a little gift. I get messages every year. Mostly upstarts, but some cute ones, too.”

When Asami had first been appointed as the blacksmith, Korra was uncertain what a girl her age was doing heading up an official royal undertaking like that, with all its bells and whistles. When she arrived at a welcome dinner with her family, Korra found her altogether too precious, and definitely not deserving of the private summons and the White Lotus escort. Especially not when the whole rigmarole was keeping Korra from her planned retreat to the kennels for the evening, where, in the end, the strapping night guards were giggling and blushing about the new blacksmith.

At her father’s behest, Korra had put on her most functional anorak and taken Asami some cakes, conserves and newly dried jerky from the palace a couple weeks after their meeting. He insisted it was a part of the Princess’s duty to look after someone in their employ so new to the land—a girl her own age no less. Down in the city, the townsfolk were pleased to see Korra as she made her way to the workshop, but no one made a fuss (unless they were young and excitable already), unlike what she had heard of the other Kingdoms, larger and loftier as they were. She wondered if Asami the Blacksmith liked that about here, or found it lacked decorum, as Korra knew some folk abroad definitely did.

Asami had a study above the forge, from which she dealt with its administration, and living quarters on the next storey. These were yet lonely and sparse, but not completely devoid of homely touches, as though she would have spruced them up if she only had the opportunity. Korra noticed well-kept shrubs and a vivid landscape on the wall; then Asami came and curtseyed deep and pulled off her apron.

She was willowy and beautiful under the gear and the soot (over it, too, to be honest), which endeared and repelled Korra in fairly equal measure, ultimately leaving her as indifferent as ever.

“My parents and Lord Arnook want to know how you’re getting on.” Lord Arnook was the esteemed keeper of the royal armoury, and he liked Asami just as much as everyone else did.

A flicker of sadness—shame?—crossed her face, then she put her hand on the table. “Won’t you sit? Your Highness. Let me bring you something hot first.”

Asami lit the fire in the blink of an eye and stoked it without watching, like it was the back of her hand. She had some bread in the pantry, over which she spread the aqpik jam Korra had delivered her. Korra watched her as she boiled the water. Her skirt was heavy, probably to insulate from the heat and cold alike, but it fell flatteringly from her height; and her long hair, which had flown in waves in a foreign style at dinner, was pinned into a practical bun. She made a sharp, fragrant tea she had brought from the continent. Her eyes lit up unexpectedly when Korra bent her own cup to cool it.

“Ah, I love seeing that,” she cooed. “I suppose I’m still not used to it. The other elements don’t bend like that. And I hear you have great skill.”

Korra’s own smile came too quick for her to suppress. “Who told you that, the King?” Then she regarded her keenly. So, how are you… Do you need anything? Do the men from the quarry treat you okay?”

“Oh, everyone here is… They’re very warm. Makes up for the chill,” Asami laughed.

It was a line so hackneyed that gritting through it was itself a country-wide inside joke. But this calm and rosy girl injected fresh, charmless charm into it. Maybe everything was charming if someone this winsome did it. After that, Korra softened considerably.

“They are,” she replied, with no small amount of pride. A sudden shame crept up her chest, that she probably couldn’t count herself among those nice people that had made Asami feel welcome.

Then Asami swallowed and the colour of her voice changed. “I miss my home, though. I know this job is more kindness than I deserve, after what we did but… It is a little lonely here.” She confirmed what Korra had already deduced, mostly because she knew the feeling all too well. “I guess I just don’t have a lot of time to go and make friends after work.”

Korra didn’t doubt that; it was hard, physical work. The one or two times she’d witnessed it, the clang rang in her ears for hours afterwards. She wouldn’t have pegged a girl like this for it. Asami reminded her more of some of the young ladies she knew from her old classes, when all the children around the court would be dumped into the royal healing hut together for some hands-on learning.

“Have you been beyond the city yet? The land out there… that’s our land. This is just a fortress.”

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to,” Asami said, wistful. “Pretty sure I can’t go on foot though.”

“Well, if… if you don’t know anyone else, I could take you. I have the best dogs in the Four Kingdoms.”

Before the month was up, Korra had sent a commission to the Queen’s personal seamstress for some sealskin gloves and winter-grade furs. She gifted them to Asami on her birthday. “You need these anyway, I think, but you’ll definitely need them where we’re going.” And that night, Korra took her to see the aurora.

There was a hamlet a few miles north of Agna Qel’a where Korra knew the elderly chief and had asked her for passage to an outcrop in their territory, after divining the well kept secret that it was one of the prime spots for watching the sky dance. Asami, enchanted, never took her eyes off it—so unflinching that Korra almost began to feel envious of the lights.

It became a routine. Korra knew every inch of her realm. If a diplomatic mission sent her to one tribe or settlement, she would be sure to take a day or two exploring the local country before she returned to the capitol. It had been a great boon when the southern tribes first came under their stewardship. The Princess spent time in every village, took interest in their land and in their lore; met challenges of the wilds and the weather with hunger, and any unknowns thereof with abiding curiosity. She knew what to wear, which sled or boat to take. When to find the rarest whale pods before they went south; where the starriest cliffs were, and the sunniest lakes.

All of which impressed Asami a great deal, and that made Korra happier than most things. And no worse were the days they spent in her apartments going over the sordid palace gossip, or in her apartments tracing old scars by lamplight, healing them word by gentle word.

On Yue’s Day, Korra stopped by to see various palace aides located around the city with customary gifts. In a castle town, there were plenty with such connections, and she relished the ruddy smiles, quick drinks, and flustered curtsies she received in turn. She saved Asami for last, because Asami had asked for some time together. Korra entered the smithy by the front, her senses clogging with immediate heat. Two of the apprentices were there: one of them gaped while the other barely blinked.

“Asami? I come bearing punch… and those moon pastries you like!”

She commenced the usual ritual of announcing her presence over the steam and noise while peeling off all but a couple of her layers, when Asami emerged out of the back. She was squeezing her hands together in excitement.

“No, no, no, don’t,” she urged, a gleam in her eyes like the blades that hung behind her, “we’re going somewhere.”

A few minutes later, they were walking along the main canal under the sparkling lights, milling through the townspeople. A fresh drift crunched beneath their boots. In a few more, they were alighting one of the kayaks in the dock.

Asami faced her and paddled like a natural; and naturally, Korra gaped.

“Do not tell me you haven’t done this before!”

Asami’s tongue stuck out in concentration as she suppressed a giggle, but her limbs moved with finesse. “Just the once. So far. Don’t be distracting me.”

“I won’t let us capsize,” Korra assured her.

Eventually, Asami settled into her rhythm, and the canal carried them out of the city, past all the lights. The banks of glass-cut brick gave way to a more jagged channel littered with pack ice at its mouth, floating blue and still. Korra gripped the edge of the kayak, not for any physical comfort. A crackling anticipation, and an unnameable fondness both, were welling and welling in her with every mundane word they shared.

When they disembarked on the lake’s other edge, the ice was landfast: a ghostly field glowing under the full moon.

Korra knew this place, but she had scarcely been here in the middle of winter, when the ice field extended endlessly, as vast as the sky. As they tramped across the snow, she began to wonder what Asami’s surprise was. There wasn’t much for a mile in any direction.

“We should sit for this,” Asami said, pointedly ignoring Korra’s prying questions.

The wind had kicked the snow up into berms along the field. Korra froze one so it was sturdy enough to perch on. Then Asami took her pack, and pulled out some plain tubes of parchment; nothing Korra would have looked at twice, although she didn’t know what they were.

“What’s in there?” She said.

“Some of my metals, some of my salts,” Asami replied enigmatically, almost sing-song. “Wait here.”

She heaved herself off the berm, ran several yards towards the horizon and stooped. She planted the tubes, and did something else Korra couldn’t see, though she thought she recognised the bright filigree on the cover of the pocket matchbook Asami carried everywhere.

When Asami had trundled back and sat again, Korra crossed her arms and laughed, bemused, her humour ebbing. “Are you going to tell me what’s going—”

BOOM!

Korra gasped, startled out of her words. She would have fallen from the perch if Asami didn’t catch her around the waist, giggling blithely all the while—

A wheel of light bloomed in the sky like a flower, dazzling and surreal. All the colours of the aurora—except they were peals of crystal fire, pouring out like diamonds before disappearing into the smoky air. Another wheeled up after it with a strange whirr, before it exploded into a glittering shower, and more in succession.

They reminded Korra of the spirit hales in the heart of the wilds, and even deeper in a buried memory, of the Fire explosives some of the raiders had once set off on the Southern Sea. Except these were brighter—and safer, because Asami had made them.

Korra looked to her when they had died, beaming under the mitten that covered her mouth in shock. “Are there more?”

To her eternal delight, there were more. New flowers sprouting on the celestial vault, they would be burned in her memory forever.

“They’re no aurora,” Asami said, while Korra scoffed and slung her arms around her, huddling for the cold and the buzz. Under her embrace, and half her weight, Asami looked chuffed. “But I thought they might liven up your night.”

Korra cupped her earmuff, then her cheek. “Thank you. This is the best day I’ve had all winter.”

Asami’s pyrotechnical skills didn’t even surprise her, but that could hardly diminish the sheer majesty, and novelty, of the display. Even minutes later, Korra could hardly believe what she had seen.

“Well, I couldn’t let you be the only show-off around here.” Asami smiled. Then the smile dropped from her eyes and she hesitated, like she couldn’t let that sit for an explanation. “Korra. I wanted to do something special. You’ve made me feel at home here in a way I never imagined. And I’m just a smith, from the Fire Empire!”

Korra felt her eyes water and blinked the tears back quickly, because they would ice and sting in the bitter air. She bit the smile off her lips. “You’re not just anything. You’re a terrific handmaiden.”

She snorted as Asami shoved her off and reached for her pack again.

“One more thing. I thought it might be too smokey for this after all those incendiaries, but it’s worth a shot anyway.”

This time Korra recognised the device she emerged with. It was made of two cylinders, and the mechanism that held them together spun smoothly like the spokes of a wheel. She handed it to Korra, who held the spyglass up.

A field of stars materialised. Korra held her breath.

The stars were luminous at the poles, but she had never seen them like this, and for the first time they felt close enough to touch, invoking a bracing, irrepressible wonder. In silence, she gazed.

“The moon spirit leads all the stars out tonight, right?”

Asami had done her research. Korra turned back to her. “So they say.” She hooked her arm through Asami’s, and held her hand. With the spyglass still to her eye, she let her head fall against Asami’s bundled shoulder.

“Tired, princess?”

Korra rustled her breath, long-suffering. “Why do you call me that!”

The way Asami said it—like it was something of her own decree, and not that of ten thousand years of tradition and some profoundly sacred doctrines. There was a sweet and strange tug in Korra’s belly whenever it happened, and this time, tonight, it lingered longer than ever.

“‘Cause you’re a piece of work,” Asami said, trying to interlace their thick, mittened fingers, which required some effort.

Tentatively, Korra turned the spyglass to the moon herself. She winced— it glared straight back, too bright. Maybe another night, when it wasn’t Yue’s Day.

Yue’s Day. She now held the thought delicately in her chest, as if she wanted to guard it from the wind and chill. If Asami loved her—were to love her—there were several reasons not to say it. They both knew them, whether they had turned them over consciously or not.

But the risk of showing was low. And the reward, as her own euphoric mood tonight proved, was magnificent.

#i made a cover for the 2nd chapter and decided to do one forall of them #will post new chap tomoro #korrasami #korrasami fanfiction #legend of korra #**#asfos

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arty-e · 4 years

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Lazuli’s Story

TW: Abuse, Eating Disorder + Death

Lazuli Diamant was the first child of Queen Opal XXII and King-Consort Marlon. She had been born a year before her grandmother’s death in a tragic fire in 11,489. Opal’s time was consumed with parties and her duties as King of Diamonds, she didn’t care for her daughter and left her well being to her husband and the nannies. Lazuli’s greatest joy and memories of her childhood was her little brother. She was a doting big sister to little Rubis, and Rubis loved his big sister just as much:

It didn’t take Lazuli long and those around her to figure out she was gay. Really gay. Though being gay in Diamonds or Cards as whole isn’t considered a ‘negative’ thing it did leave Opal in a complicated situation. Before the current Diamond Royals ruled Diamonds there had been a previous family where the family line ended with no clear heiress and plunged Diamonds in decade long civil war. Opal was determined to keep her family line going at any cost for the sake of Diamonds and her own selfish desire to carry on her own families line:

By the time Lazuli was 13 she had been tasked with shadowing her mother every where she went to start studying and learning what a King of Diamonds was meant to do. Her mother grew frustrated with her new shadow and would make Lazuli fully aware how unwelcome she was. Opal’s main issue with Lazuli was how plain she was. They lived in a society and ideology that beauty was the key to happiness and valued amongst their people above anything else. Yet the next King of Diamonds, the next queen was plain and simple in her looks and Opal took offence:

Opal had never been a great mother to either of her children. As children she chose to ignore them and get on with her life, but as they got older and began to get under her feet she was outright cruel to them. Lazuli knowing she had to be around her constantly would choose her battles and try to keep her head down, while Rubis was far more confrontational despite his father’s best efforts to encourage him to keep away and keep quiet. Rubis’ fights with their mother would only start when she took it too far with Lazuli and this often lead to his life being even more restricted and controlled by his parents as punishment:

Lazuli fully aware that her darling brother’s life was being controlled more fiercely each time he tried to stand up for her, began to keep quiet about everything their mother said and did. Soon Opal’s words quickly began to eat away at Lazuli’s very little amount of confidence, criticising everything about her; how plain she was to how she was an inconvenience when she was trying to learn from her. All of this combined with the stress of being a princess eventually accumulated into her eating disorder, anorexia:

The Diamond Royal lifestyle wasn’t so bad however. Very hedonistic by nature, throwing balls and parties here and there had become almost an everyday norm. That’s where Lazuli met her, Alexandre Diopside, the third daughter of the Six of Diamonds. To Lazuli she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen and it was love at first sight for the both of them:

Unfortunately for the two they faced a small bump in the road. Their fathers despised one another, something Marlon refused to talk about with Lazuli when she tried to question him about it. Marlon fought hard against Lazuli marrying Alexandre, however Lazuli went and sort her mothers permission instead. Opal’s indifference to the whole situation granted her permission not wanting to deal with such a ridiculous situation. Marlon had no choice but accept Alexandre as his daughter-in-law but never said a kind word to her father. Lazuli and Alexandre on the other hand were overjoyed:

Alexandre had Lazuli move away from the Diamonds court to a beautiful estate that they owned together. There Alexandre held beautiful and fun parties and gave room for Lazuli to do what she wanted without her mother belittling her. Alexandre spent all her time building Lazuli’s confidence and making her feel loved and beautiful. Lazuli became obsessed with history and learnt from the past mistake and wished to change and evolve Diamonds when she’d become the next King of Diamonds . During this time Lazuli and Alexandre had serious discussions about their future and what they expect from each other and themselves. Lazuli made it very clearly she didn’t want children, too scared she’ll end up like her mother and felt that was no way a child should ever be treated. Alexandre was more than accepting of this but vowed whoever their future Heiress would be she would spoil her:

Lazuli and Alexandre were called back to court after three years into their marriage to discuss their future to Lazuli’s parents. Lazuli, with her new found confidence, told her parents out right she would not be willing to have children, from birthing or adopting. However Opal’s fury scared her again as she grew loud and violent with her. Rubis heard the shouts and screams in Opal’s Study (where the ‘conversation’ was) to see Marlon and Alexandre trying their best to stop Opal from hurting Lazuli who was crying on the floor begging her mother to stop. Rubis ran in and punched his mother in the face stopping her from hurting his sister anymore:

While Marlon helped his wife, Alexandre pulled Lazuli away with Rubis shielding the two from Opal who was angrier than before. She threatened to ruin Rubis life since she made it she can easily take it away. Marlon afraid she planned on having Rubis killed he jumped in suggesting that they marry Rubis to a powerful family and he his wife can produce Lazuli’s heirs for her. Opal accepts seeing that she will be carrying on her family line and stripping Rubis of his freedom. Marlon chooses Rubis’ new wife, Sphene Al’Naya the Eight of Diamonds. Lazuli is very upset that Rubis is being forced into a marriage he clearly never wanted because of her. Rubis was angry and frustrated and constantly fighting with his father who is angry with him for stepping out of place witch surprises and scares Rubis. Rubis is married to Sphene who practically owns his life now as he is her husband and thus her ‘property’. However he is pleasantly surprised to find that Sphene doesn’t care about what he does and is even willing to go against his mother and not have any children straight away but she makes it clear that she does want children and especially wants a child to rule Diamonds after Lazuli:

Not too long after this incident Clubs stopped sending food to Diamonds, that went against the Mineral Treaty the two kingdoms had been signing for centuries. Opal tried several to contact the current King of Clubs, King Hyeon but he refused to even explain why he suddenly ended their treaty and agreement. With this sudden shortage of food the Diamonds people began to starve. Attempts to farm old land was met with little fruit. Diamonds land was so un-farmable little was able to be produce the little they were able to grow it was little and of poor quality that would not feed their people:

Lazuli had come back to live in the Diamonds court during this time having a better understanding of Diamonds history and feeling she would be some use. However her mother would not listen to her and carried on as if a crisis was not happening. Opal and her court carried on living the lifestyle they lived before, in luxury and throwing extravagant balls whenever they want ignoring what is happening outside to the common people:

Lazuli growing more and more frustrated with her mother and her little she and the others of their court cared about what was happening to their felt she had to take things to drastic levels. She started forging her mother’s signature on documents in order for things to be done and tried to push money away from the parties and the extravagant life their family and Nobles lived to help support the Common people. Hoover Opal quickly caught wind of what Lazuli was doing and ended it and kept Lazuli away from anything that she would try to change. Lazuli kept fighting and even tried to recruit her father and the other Nobles but no one was willing to change their lives for people they didn’t consider important enough to care about. With everything she was doing ending with nothing Lazuli finally accepted she had no choice but to get rid of her mother and become King of Diamonds in order to have Diamonds live through such difficult times. The two wandered the halls of the Diamonds palace before reaching a long and steep set of stairs where Lazuli pushed her mother:

Lazuli cried to Rubis about what she did feeling she had no choice but to do it. Rubis was the only person to ever know the truth about their mother’s death, the rest of Diamonds, the rest of Cards believed it to be an accident with Opal tripping over her dress and falling to her death. He never condemned his sister actions and reassured her that it was the right thing:

After Opal’s funeral Lazuli was officially crowned queen and the new King of Diamonds. She was quick to begin her reforms and heavily tax her nobles in order to fund and look after the Diamonds people. When Prince Eben and his wife came to her and diamonds looking for sanctuary she granted it and promised to support them to take down Hyeon as long as they promised to re-sign the Mineral Treaty and begin to feed Diamonds once again. Once all had settled in Diamonds again Lazuli set her final goal; to take fertile land to feed her people and not to rely so heavily on their allies. She started the Deck War in order to feed her people by trying to take land from Hearts:

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geekydane · 4 years

Text

Talk to me - Tommy Shelby x reader - chapter 8

Masterlist

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It is strange how fast something becomes a habit. It didn’t take long for you to figure out a way for you to be snuck into Tommy’s bed room every night. As he said you let Ada or Lizzie follow you home. You just never knew when Tommy would come pick you up. Sometimes it could be close to midnight before he came and then it would often be in the family’s car.

The days when he was in the office at the time you got off, he made sure to bid his good bye to you and mumbled a ‘see you soon’. Ada was started to catch on and gave you a side eye when you smiled and nodded back to him. On those days you barely had time to finish eating before he was knocking on your door. It was also the best times for you two to talk. Or at least, for him to talk. He had adapted a habit of telling you about his time before the war. How him and his siblings fought and made up. It was interesting to you, as you grew up without any siblings. Such a strong connection to someone your own age must have been delightful. You figured out how strong a friendship you had as noon of your previous so called friends visited you after you moved in with the Langstons.

Tommy often let you lay closer on those days too. You had found comfort in the warmth of him in the night which was a big step for you that still despised human contact. He would take your hand like you had grown used to and lay it on his chest. The first time you almost stopped breathing until he explained.

“One tap for yes and two taps for no.” He then proceeded to ask you questions about your past and history. It took a long time and lots of questions sometimes for some stories to be told but you quite enjoyed yourself taping away on his bare chest.

It also gave you an excuse to put your head on his shoulder, right next to his tattoo. The story he told about it made you so much more comfortable around him and made you relate to him a bit more, even though you hadn’t been to war, you had had a war of your own. Both of you were still in each your wars in your head and the fact that you could escape that for a while by lying there close to each other, talking. It made it all that much easier to deal with.

After a while Tommy started to bring paper and pens to the bed room.

“It is easier that way, than me guessing all the details.” He said with a smile. You were afraid that it might be the end of you two snuggling – because who were you kidding, it was snuggling – but when he gave the paper to you he patted the spot next to him in the bed and you sat there shoulder to shoulder. As the evening went on you slowly fell more and more into him as you wrote with a book as a writing surface, his arm slowly finding its way around you.

You talked about everything else but work. It was like an unspoken rule and you learned so much about each other in the process. You didn’t know anyone you had ever shared so much random information about yourself and your travels with your father around Europe. You had never had anything missing in your childhood except your mother, but your father had giving you everything and showed you as much as possible of the world while he was working. For Tommy it was the opposite. Not that he was poor growing up, but they always only had the necessaries. His father wasn’t much there and he grew up with a depressed mother, his aunt Polly and a man called Charlie he also called his uncle. They got taken care of and took care of each other. That might be why they all seemed to work so well together.

At the end of other evenings with a lot of notes and talking, Tommy would gather all the notes you had written and threw them into the fireplace. You had looked at him wondering what on earth he was doing.

“Just making sure that our conversations is still private. Other people don’t need to know what you are sharing with me.” He explained as he would walk back to bed and dragged you in close to him before you fell asleep.

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It was after one of the busy night were Tommy barely could get you before midnight, that you had to sneak out of his house early in the morning to get you a new set of clothing. You were almost sure he wouldn’t come to you the night before, which was unusual, so you had started getting ready for bed before he came that night. That also meant that you had prepared the next day’s clothing by the end of your bed instead of packing it in your duffle bag. Tommy gave your hand as you left his room in the clothing from the day before. He disappeared into the wash room and you closed the door very slowly and silent behind you and went down towards the back staircase.

“Miss y/l/n.” The sound of Polly’s voice behind you made you freeze in the spot. What was she doing up already? She was never up before Tommy. You turned around and saw that she was still in a long nightgown in a faded red colour and loose hair. You nodded to her, unable to hide your mortified expression.

“I see you’ve become acquaintance with my nephew.” She said with a sly smile on her face. You knew you were blushing, oh god it was horrible and you wanted to explain, but you were unable to. What was she not thinking of you now?

“Why don’t you join us for breakfast? Maybe we can get Tommy to actually join us too for once.” You just stood there unable to do anything. You couldn’t possibly say no to Polly and she didn’t let you. She walked to you and reached out her hand for you. Unlike what you would have done only months ago, you put your hand in hers and let her guide you don’t the main staircase. What would Tommy say when he discovered this?

You sat awkwardly beside Polly at the breakfast table as more and more of the family stopped by the dining room, either for a talk or for something to eat. You learned that John, Esme and the kids had another home too, but they still got their rooms at the family house if they worked late. Of course that was the case that morning and they looked at you surprised when they entered the dining room. They didn’t ask any questions but send you a confused smile before continuing what they were doing. Ada came in shortly after and placed Karl in the arms of Polly before even noticing you. She was about to say something as Tommy finally joined the room with a quiet ‘good morning’. He stopped in his tracks like the rest of the family did. You felt like some kind of attraction by now and you hated the attention.

“Y/n. What are you doing here?” Tommy asked confused.

“I caught her on the way out of your bedroom, Tommy.” Polly said without even looking at her nephew.

“What?!” Ada exclaimed immediately and dropped her knife; she was buttering her bread with; down into the plate. You looked directly down in the table with wide eyes. It couldn’t possibly be worse. Dear god.

“Well the least I could do was offering her some breakfast. She couldn’t have reached home and eat before work started.” Polly explained like it was nothing at all. There was silence for a long while.

“Good. That’s good. I’ll grab some bread on the go.” Tommy said and was about to leave the dining room.

“Tommy. Sit down for once. You have a guest.” Polly said calmly but you could hear the threat in her voice. Tommy looked so uncomfortable but sat down next to you. The other family members kept staring between the two of you and not many words were said the whole morning.

You never got back to get some new clothes, so you went directly from the breakfast table into the office. It was a lot earlier than you used to arrive and when Lizzie finally came in she stopped for a second and looked you up and down. Of course she would notice you hadn’t changed your clothing. The whole world would know about you and Tommy’s arrangements soon.

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

It took some time to get this comfortable with each other. Not only because of your history, but because of that one day at the office after your first night together. Tommy had asked you to stay in his office as he was getting a visitor. Another businessman he said. You started to get that it might be a bit more serious than that, when his bothers came in after a bit, talking about where they had placed different people around the office and bidding shop to make sure than it wasn’t possible for anyone to perform an ambush. Tommy assured you that everything would be alright and you just had to sit to the side and write your notes and observe the man coming in.

“He will have at least one more man with him, but I need you to keep an eye on Mr. King, but don’t get any eye contact. It’s very important. We will be sharing some information today I’m sure will shock you. Try not to reach to it. We will talk about it later.” He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

“Mr. King is ‘ere.” Arthurs head poked in between the double doors and his gaze landed on Tommy’s hand on your shoulder. Almost instantly Tommy straightened up and removed his hand from you. He moved to sit behind his desk before two men walked in. You sat down quickly to Tommy’s right at the small table that was sat up just for you. You looked up through your lashes to look at the two men.

They were dressed very similar. They were both wearing bell-bottomed trousers, cut like a sailors, waistcoat with a matching jacket and a curious looking tartan silk scarf. They both wore a cap similar to the once Tommy and his brothers always wore out.

“Mr. Shelby.” The shorter of the two men said and nodded a single time. He looked young, or maybe he was just one of those who were hard to guess the age of. His eyes looked much older, like they had seen much more than such a young man should have at that age.

“Mr. King.” Tommy said back stiffly and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. Mr. King sat down as the other man stood a little back and crossed his arms over his chest. His focus suddenly landed on you and you looked down on your empty notepaper.

“I believe you owe me an apology, Mr. Shelby. That’s all I’m here to collect before we both get out of each other’s face.” Mr. King spat and leaned forward in a threatening manner. Tommy didn’t move at all.

“I do not have anything to apologies for. I’m simply doing business like any other man would.” Tommy folded his hands on his stomach and leaned back like he was all relaxed. It looked like it only made Mr. King boil.

“Not when that business is on the wrong side of the city walls of Manchester. MY territory. Bring your business elsewhere; you don’t want to start something.” The threat was clear in his voice and the way he said it was his territory only made you question what Tommy may be doing. This wasn’t good.

“You know, The Scuttlers doesn’t have an iron grip on Manchester like they once had. We could walk right in. And the people were very willing to talk.” Tommy said with a sly little smile.

“Well that’s bad for them because you are staying the hell away from Manchester, you hear? I came here to put this past us, but it doesn’t sound like you understand what I’m saying. Keep your Blinders on the right side of the walls and there will be no war. It’s really up to you.” Mr. King was flaming red around his collar but somehow managed to control his voice. At the same time you didn’t know what to write down. They were both very direct and there wasn’t any deals being thrown on the table besides Tommy withdrawing some kind of business in Manchester. You looked to Mr. King’s supposed right hand man and found him still staring at you. You dropped your gaze again, feeling very uncomfortable. What was he even there for? He didn’t say anything? Was he observing too? You realized that you had zoned out when Mr. King slammed his fist into Tommy’s desk, making you jump in your chair.

“You are going to regret this. If I’m seeing any of your Blinders at my casinos, I will send them back to you in a body bag.” He stood up so fast that the chair behind him was almost tipping over. You flinched when Mr. King’s gaze fell on you for a split second before he stormed out and his brute of a friend went with him. The door stood wide open and you could see Lizzie outside staring into Tommy’s office with wide eyes.

You turned to Tommy that was sat leaning on his elbows on the table. He looked like he was thinking hard about something. Who was this Mr. King? And what was it about casinos? What exactly was Tommy all about? What you had figured was that he had something to do with playing on horses, but a casino was a very shady business and very illegal in England. You had heard of police raiding different locations. It was a very underground environment and only the most awful people would spend their time and money there. You have only learnt about it from your travels in America.

“That went as I expected.” Tommy said calmly and went up to close the door to the office. Arthur and John came up and was about to enter, but Tommy stopped them by grabbing the doorframe on both sides.

“Will you give us a minute.” It wasn’t a question as much as it was an order. The two brothers looked at each other and let Tommy close the door fully. He walked towards you but stopped a few steps away. You didn’t know what to think about it all. It was a lot new information about a person you had become really close to for a while. He was involved with a lot more shit than you had imagined and for some reason he was letting you see all of it. It was like he was waiting for some kind of reaction for you, but even if you would be able to say anything; you didn’t know what you would say to him.

“You know, I am a bad man doing bad things.” He started and tipped his head to catch your eyes. He frowned as your expression didn’t change. Yes, you knew that almost from the start, but either way, you had let him drag you closer and found yourself save in his proximity. It didn’t make sense considering his actions. But his actions towards you were so different than what you had experienced in the office.

“I’m sure you didn’t imagine being dragged into something like this coming here. But despite everything you already knew and things I’ve told you, you are still here.” Tommy turned to his desk and moved a few things around. It looked like he was just occupying himself while he was talking.

“I can’t imagine why you are still here after all you’ve already been thought. But I hope this doesn’t change anything.” He finally lays his eyes on you again and you didn’t know exactly what you saw in his eyes, but for a moment it looked like desperation, only for a split second as he returned to be the business man Tommy again. But that split second was enough for you. He was another person here in the office because he needed to be, or else he didn’t have any business. He wouldn’t be the head of the Peaky Blinders and he wouldn’t be the man that he let you see in his bedroom. That man wouldn’t exist if the hard part of him hadn’t experienced all the hardness of life. It was cruel to say but it was the true. You could only imagine the man he was before the war.

You knew that you had to reassure him and that hand gestures wouldn’t be enough. You used the untouched note paper in front of you to write a short note for Tommy and stood up. Went you walked towards him he reached out for the note before you even got to him.

I’m not going anywhere. You are keeping me safe.

When Tommy read the note it was like his shoulder sank a little. Like he let out a breath he was holding the whole time. He send you a hint of a smile before he went back to his serious expression.

“Thanks.” Was all he said and he looked a little shaken. So you took his hand and gave it a little reassuring squeeze.

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

So nothing really changed by the fact that you knew more about whom he was, even though you felt it should. He was a gang leader, he fixed horse races, he took protection money from the businesses in Birmingham and he wanted to expand his business to casinos. Only a few years back you would have scoffed at someone like him. He would have been nothing more than a shocking story in the newspaper your father would read in the morning, that you didn’t bother much with.

All of that didn’t really matter when you woke up early in the morning to the sound of Tommy’s lightly snoring next to you. His arm sprawled out to the sides to make access to you who were resting your head on his shoulder like usual. The light was still very sparingly in the room at that time but you liked to watch how his chest rose and fell slowly. It was when he was in such a deep sleep he was most vulnerable and the fact that you could just lay there with a man like him and be the only witness to it was just perfect to you.

You were soon pulled out of the comfortable bobble when you heard voice in the hallway. They were shouting and you could hear how they came nearer and nearer. You lifted your head to listen closer and at the same time scoot closer to Tommy. It made him grunt out loud and squint his eyes. The shouting was interrupted by a woman’s voice.

“What are you thinking coming here?!” She yelled at them and that woke Tommy up. He sat up straight and threw his legs over the edge of the bed as the people outside started lowering their voices and spoke to Polly. Tommy caught your eyes and ushered you to sit up and get behind him, so you were out of direct sight from the door. Tommy reached under the bed at the same moment that someone burst through the door. Tommy pointed the newly appeared gun towards the men. There were three of them and they looked at Tommy with wild eyes. They were all three dirty and bloodied. The all wore very similar working class clothing and the infamous peaked cap. They must have been a part of the Peaky Blinders, because Tommy lowered his gun and reached around to pad you on the knee like he would assure you that everything was alright.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” He suddenly shouted at the men, making both them and you jump. Polly appeared in the door in her night gown and a tight lipped expression.

“I’m s-sorry sir but we found Arley, Buckley and Grey bloody murdered near the ducks!” One of them stammered and looked down at his bloodied hands before they dropped down to his sides again. Tommy sat silenced and waited for them to continue.

“They were beaten to death, sir. It was a bloody mess. They had even stacked them on top of each other. We couldn’t almost recognize them if it wasn’t because Buckley had a picture of his wife in his pocket.” One of the others spoke and pulled a picture from his own pocket. You closed your eyes and leaned into Tommy’s back. That was too sad. You didn’t know who those people where but it sounded like they had been straight up murdered for no big reason and they had families that loved them that they would never return to. It made you shiver and Tommy felt that. He looked over his shoulder at you and gave you a small nod.

“You know who did this?” He asked the men and the three of them looked at each other before the one with his friends wife’s picture pulled another piece of paper from his pocket and stepped forward to give it to Tommy. You placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned over to see what the note said. You felt a little victory inside when Tommy held the paper a little higher so you could read it too, but that feeling was quickly replaced by horror.

This is your first warning, Shelby.

Mick King.

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brianwilly · 5 years

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Game of Thrones did the thing that a couple of shows do where...it likes feminism. It understood that feminism is important. It wanted to be feminist. It was cognizant of the fact that its setting was brazenly and intentionally misogynistic, and so it was even more important for its independent narrative to empower its female characters instead of mindlessly reinforcing the toxic beliefs of its own fictional world. The whole point of the story, after all, was “this society is toxic, can our heroes survive it?” and so the narrative was voluntarily self-critical.

And so it knew to give us badass assassin Arya. It knew to give us stalwart knight Brienne. It gave us the pirate queen and the dragon queen and the Sansa getting revenge after revenge upon all the men who’d wronged her, and far more besides, and it talked big about breaking chains and how much men fucked things up and how great it would be if only women were in charge and et cetera et cetera. And it’s, in fact, all actually really good that it had those things. And because there were so very many moving parts of this story, it was super easy to look at those certain moving parts and think, yeah, they’ve done it! They done good!

And it’s easy to forget and forgive -- to want to forget and forgive -- all the dead prostitutes that were on this show and the rapes used as motivation and fridgings and objectifications and the...y’know, whatever the hell Dorne was and Lady Stoneheart who? It’s easy to forget that this show actually played its hand a long time ago in regards to, like, what its relationship with feminism was going to be, and then kept playing the same hand again and again, to disappointing results.

Game of Thrones likes feminism. It wanted to be feminist. But its relationship with feminism was still predicated on some of the same old narratives and the same old storytelling trends that have disempowered female characters in the past, and so any progressive ideas it might have about women in its setting were nonetheless going to be constrained by those old fetters. As a result, its portrayal of women varied anywhere from glorious to admirable to predictable to downright cringeworthy.

New ideas require new vessels, new stories, in which to house them. And for Game of Thrones, the ultimate story that it wanted to tell -- the ultimate driving force and thesis statement around which it was basing its entire journey and narrative -- was unfortunately a very old one, and one very familiar to the genre.

“Powerful women are scary.”

(Yes, I’m obviously making Yet Another Daenerys Essay On The Internet here)

So we have this character, this girl really, a slave girl who was sold and abused, and then she overcomes that abuse to gain power, she gains dragons, and she uses that power to fight slavery. She fights slavery really well, like, she’s super hella good at it. Her command of dragons is the most overt portrayal of “superpowers” in this world; she is the single most powerful person in this story, more powerful than any other character and the contest is not close.

But then...something really bad happens and oops, she gets really emotional about it and then she’s not fighting slavery anymore...she’s kinda doing the opposite! This girl who was once a hero and a liberator of slaves instead becomes an out-of-control scary Mad Queen who kills a ton of innocent people and has to be taken down by our true heroes for the good of the world.

That’s the theme. That’s the takeaway here. That’s how it all ends, with one of the most primitive, archaic propaganda ever spread by writers, that women with power are frightening, they are crazy, they will use that power for ill. Women with power are witches. They are Amazons. They will lop off our manhoods and make slaves of us. They seduce our rightful kings and send our kingdoms to ruin. They cannot control their emotions. They get hot flashes and start wars. They turn into Dark Phoenixes and eat suns. They are robot revolutionaries who will end humanity. Powerful women are scary.

And let me emphasize that the theme here is not, in fact, that all power corrupts, because the whole Mad Queen concept for Daenerys actually ends up failing one of the more fundamental litmus tests available when it comes to representation of any kind: “would this story still happen if Dany was a man?” And the fact is that it would not. And indeed we know this for a fact because “protagonist starts out virtuous, gains power in spite of the hardships set against him, gets corrupted by that power, and ends up being the bad guy” didn’t happen, and doesn’t happen, to the guys in the very same story that we’re examining. It doesn’t happen to Jon Snow, Dany’s closest and most intentional narrative parallel. It doesn’t happen to Bran Stark, a character whose entire journey is about how he embroils himself in wild dark winter magic beyond anyone’s understanding and loses his humanity in the process. In fact, the only other character who ever got hinted of going “dark” because of the power that they’re obtaining is Arya, the girl who spent seven seasons training to fight, to become powerful, to circumvent the gender role she was saddled with in this world...and then being told at the end of her story, “Whoa hey slow down be careful there, you wouldn’t wanna get all emotional and become a bad person now wouldja?” by a man.

(meanwhile Sansa’s just sitting off in the side pouting or whatever ‘cuz her main arc this season was to, like, be annoyed at people really hard I guess)

‘Cuz that’s the danger with the girls and not the boys, ain’t it? Arya and Jon are both great at killing people, but there is no Dark Jon story while we have to take extra special care to watch for Arya’s precious fragile humanity. Dany has the power of dragons while Bran has the power of the old gods, but we will not find Dark Lord Bran, Soulless Scourge of Westeros, onscreen no matter how much sense it should make. “Power corrupts” is literally not a trend that afflicts male heroes on the same level that it afflicts female heroes.

Oh sure, there are corrupt male characters everywhere, tyrants and warlords and mafia bosses and drug dealers and so forth all over your TVs, and not even necessarily portrayed as outright villains; anti-heroes are nothing new. But we’re talking about the hero hero here; the Harry Potters, the Luke Skywalkers, the Peter Parkers. The Jon Snows. They interact with corruptive power, yes; it’s an important aspect of their journeys. But the key here being that male heroes would overcome that corruption and come through the other side better off for it. They get to come away even more admirable for the power that they have in a way that is generally not afforded towards female heroes.

There are exceptions, of course; no trends are absolutely absolute one way or the other. For instance, the closest male parallel you’d find for the “being powerful is dangerous and will corrupt your noble heroic intentions” trope in popular media would be the character of Anakin Skywalker in the Star Wars prequel trilogy...ie, a preexisting character from a preexisting story where he was conceived as the villainous foil for the heroes. Like, Anakin being a poor but kindhearted slave who eventually becomes seduced by the dark side certainly matches Dany’s arc, but it wasn’t the character’s original story and role. And even then?...notice how Anakin as Vader the Dark Lord gets treated with the veneer of being “badass” and “cool” by the masses. A male character with too much power -- even if it’s dark power, even if it’s corruptive -- has the range to be seen as something appealingly formidable, and not just as an obstacle that has to be dealt with or a cautionary tale to be pitied.

And in one of the few times that this trope was played completely straight, completely unironically with a male hero -- I’m thinking specifically of Hal Jordan the Green Lantern, of “Ryan Reynolds played him in the movie” fame -- the fans went berserk. They could not let it go. The fact that this character would go mad with power because a tragedy happened in his life was completely unacceptable, the story gained notoriety as a bad decision by clueless writers, and today the story in question has been retconned -- retroactively erased from continuity -- so that the character can be made heroic and virtuous again. That’s how big a deal it was when a male hero with the tiniest bit of a fan following goes off the deep end.

To be clear, I’m not here to quibble over whether the story of Dany turning evil was good or bad, because we all know that’s going to be the de facto defense for this situation: “But she had to go mad! It was for the sake of the story!“ as if the writers simply had no choice, they were helpless to the whims of the all-powerful Story God which dictates everything they write, and the most prominent female character of their series simply had to go bonkers and murder a bajillion babies and then get killed by her boyfriend or else the story just wouldn’t be good, y’know? Ultimately though, that’s not what I’m arguing here, because it doesn’t actually matter. There have been shitty stories about powerful women being bad. There have been impressive stories about powerful women being bad. Either way, the fact that people can’t seem to stop telling stories about powerful women being bad is a problem in and of itself. Daenarys’ descent into Final Boss-dom could’ve been the most riveting, breathtaking, masterfully-written pieces of art ever and it’d still be just another instance of a female hero being unable to handle her power in a big long list of instances of this shitty trope. The trope itself doesn’t become unshitty just because you write it well.

It all ultimately boils down to the very different ways that men and women -- that male heroes and female heroes -- continue to be portrayed in stories, and particularly in genre media. In TV, we got Dany, and then we also have Dolores Abernathy in Westworld who was a gentle android that was abused and victimized for her entire existence, who shakes off the shackles of her programming to lead her race in revolution against their abusers...and then promptly becomes a ruthless maniac who ends up lobotomizing the love of her life and ends the season by voluntarily keeping a male android around to check her cruel impulses. Comic book characters like Jean Grey and Wanda Maximoff are two of the most powerful people in their universe but are always, in-universe, made to feel guilty about their power and, non-diegetically, writers are always finding ways to disempower them because obviously they can’t be trusted with that much power and entire multiple sagas have been written about just how bad an idea it is for them to be so powerful because it’ll totally drive them crazy and cause them to kill everyone, obviously. Meanwhile, a male comic character like Dr. Strange -- who can canonically destroy a planet by speaking Latin really hard -- or Black Bolt -- who can destroy a planet by speaking anything really hard -- will be just sitting there, two feet on the side, enjoying some tea and running the world or whatever because a male character having untold uninhibited power at his disposal is just accepted and laudable and gets him on those listicles where he fights Goku and stuff.

In my finite perspective, the sort of female heroes who have gained...not universal esteem, perhaps, but at least general benign acceptance amongst the genre community are characters who just don’t deal with all that stuff. I’m thinking of recent superheroes like Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel, certainly, but also of surprise breakout hits like Stranger Things’ Eleven (so far) or even more niche characters like Sailor Moon or She-Ra. The fact that these characters wield massive power is simply accepted as an unequivocal good thing, their power makes them powerful and impressive and that’s the end of the story, thanks for asking. And when they deal with the inevitable tragedy that shakes their worldview to the core, or the inevitable villain trying to twist them into darkness, they tend to overcome that temptation and come out the other side even stronger than when they started. In other words?...characters like these are being allowed the exact same sorts of narrative luxuries that are usually only afforded towards male heroes.

The thing about these characters, though, is that they tend to be...well, a little bit too heroic, right? A lil’ bit too goody-two-shoes? A bit too stalwart, a bit too incorruptible? And that’s fine, there’s certainly nothing wrong with a traditionally-heroic white knight of a hero. But what I might like to see, as the next step going forward, is for female heroes to be allowed a bit more range than just that, so that they’re not just innocent children or literal princesses or shining demigods clad in primary colors. Let’s have an all-powerful female hero be...well, the easiest way to say it is let’s see her allowed to be bitchier. Less straightlaced. Let’s not put an ultimatum on her power, like “Oh sure you can be powerful, but only if you’re super duper nice about it.” Let us have a ruthless woman, but not one ruled by ruthlessness. Let us have a hero who naturally makes enemies and not friends, who has to work hard to gain allies because her personality doesn’t sparkle and gleam. Let her have the righteous anger of a lifelong slave, and let that anger be her salvation instead of her downfall.

In other words, let us have Daenerys Targaryen. And let us put her in a new story instead of an old one.

#Game of Thrones #Daenerys Targaryen #ASOIAF #A Song of Ice and Fire #Jon Snow #Bran Stark #Arya Stark #Dany #GoT #GoTedit #Overthinking #meta #essay

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paulinedorchester · 3 years

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Hodgson, Vere. Few Eggs and No Oranges: A Diary Showing How Unimportant People in London and Birmingham Lived Through the War Years 1940-1945, Written in the Notting Hill Area of London. London: Dennis Dobson, 1976. Reprint (as Few Eggs and No Oranges: The Diaries of Vere Hodgson 1940-45), with a new preface by Jenny Hartley, London: Persephone Books, 1999.

Winifred Vere Hodgson (1901-1979) was born in Edgbaston, Birmingham, into what seem to have been shabby-genteel circumstances. On the one hand, after her father’s death in 1907 her mother was obliged to run the family home as a boarding house in order to make ends meet; on the other, she was educated at King Edward VI High School for Girls before reading history at the University of Birmingham. She was a niece of Thomas Vere Hodgson, the marine biologist on the H.M.S. Discovery during its voyage of 1904-6.

After graduating, she taught for several years at – wait for it – L’Istituto Statale della Ss. Annunziata, Florence, Italy, where – wait for it again – Edda Mussolini was among her pupils, and then for several more years at schools in (apparently – I’m a bit confused about this) Folkestone and Wimbledon. Deciding on a complete change, in 1935 she answered a “positions available” advertisement placed by a philanthropic body. Thus began her career as a social welfare worker, which seems to have been deemed important enough to have kept her from conscription during the war.

The organization for which Hodgson worked, the Greater World Christian Spiritualist Association, was located at 3 Lansdowne Road – still standing, this building was referred to at that time as The Sanctuary – and served primarily the Notting Hill and Holland Park areas, both of which seem to have been pretty down-at-heel at the time. They operated a night shelter for homeless women and gave grants of money and needed goods to the poor. (The Greater World, as its staff called it, doesn’t seem to me to fit the definition of a cult, so I’ll refrain from making any value judgements; you can read more about it here and here. It is still active.)

Hodgson’s job involved a good deal of secretarial and clerical work, but she also worked directly with the association’s beneficiaries as well as making nice with its benefactors. She often spent nights at The Sanctuary, either to be present for the women sheltering there or, once the war began, to take her turn as a fire-watcher. Although in her diary she always expresses gratitude for any free time she had, the job clearly brought her a great deal of satisfaction:

Went to see one of my poor old souls today. She has been getting a bit of chair-mending to do, and was better. She dreads the winter – as last year she was compelled to beg in the streets; but now we shall help her. The dread of complete destitution is terrible.

Like Clara Milburn, another wartime diarist whose output was published in the 1970s, Hodgson wasn’t writing primarily for her own benefit. Mrs. Milburn kept her diary with an eye to creating a record of the home front for her son, Alan, an officer in the British Expeditionary Force who was taken prisoner in Belgium in 1940. Miss Hodgson initially wrote for a cousin, Lucy Hodgson, who when the war began was in England on sabbatical from her job as an education officer in what was then known – to some people, at least – as Northern Rhodesia, and returned there in the Spring of 1940 “with grave misgivings,” according to Vere Hodgson’s introduction to the book.

Hodgson began sending installments of the diary to Lucy, who returned them to her and also sent parcels of cheese, tea, and other rationed foods. At some point Vere began mailing the pages to a round-robin of friends and relations, the last of whom would then send them on to Africa. (Amazingly, only one installment went missing.) Another thing that Hodgson’s diary has in common with Milburn’s is that she didn’t actually use printed diaries, allowing her to write very long entries at times.

The diary first came to public attention when Hodgson answered another advertisement, this one from the journalist Leonard Mosely, who was looking for first-hand accounts of life in wartime London as source material for his 1971 book Backs to the Wall (which is clearly something that I need to read). He quoted her entries for September 3rd, 1939, and May 7th, 1940. This resulted in a request from the publisher Dennis Dobson that Hodgson prepare an edition of her wartime diary as a whole. According to a publisher’s note in the Persephone reprint, “This she did, cutting by about three-quarters and editing substantially.” Since the reprint runs to 590 pages, one has to wonder what the original was like!

Few Eggs and No Oranges begins on June 25th, 1940, with the announcement that “Last night at about 1 a.m. we had the first raid of the war on London.” Air raids were at the very center of Hodgson’s war. She details, blow by blow, each and every raid and alert that she experienced. Indeed, she offers so much granular information on raids – where bombs fell, how many people were killed, etc. – and other topics that British newspapers weren’t permitted to discuss in any detail that it’s a wonder that the diary was never censored on its way out of the country. (At one point she reports that the censor returned to her a letter that she’d sent to a friend in Canada, so clearly this was something that really did happen! At the same time, she records many major events of the war all over the globe, seeming to assume that Lucy won’t have heard or read about them and leaving me wondering whether Northern Rhodesia can really have been that isolated by 1939.) Her preoccupation may have had something to do with the fact that she always found herself living on a building’s topmost floor: when the war began she was renting a room in a boarding house at 56 Ladbroke Road; in October, 1941 to her great delight, she moved to a “flatlet” across the street at 79 Ladbroke Road, the process of furnishing which she recounts with relish. Among other advantages, this allowed her to shelter friends who needed it: one of her friends was bombed out three times over the course of the war. To be sure, Hodgson did develop a good deal of sang-froid: “Very blitzy indeed last night,” she remarks off-handedly on January 10th, 1941.

When bombs weren’t falling, Hodgson simply recorded everyday life, often hilariously:

Spoke my mind to the cat. It is disgraceful that all the Cats have joined some sort of Pacifist Organization. To keep a cat in these awful days of food scarcity, and then have to catch the mice yourself, is a bit thick. I explained this to our animal.

As you might guess from the book’s title, food was another of Hodgson’s central preoccupations. There seem to be two conflicting narratives about food rationing in the U.K. during and after World War II. One is that pre-war Britons were overfed on a fatty, starchy diet, and that the nation’s overall health improved as a result of rationing. The other is that rationing was not only damaging to the nation’s morale, but led to widespread borderline malnutrition. Hodgson was inclined to the latter view. She repeatedly details all of the edibles she’s having to do without (fresh fruit was a major lack), either because they’re simply unavailable or, in the case of unrationed goods, because their prices have skyrocketed. On the other hand, she takes great joy in her own and other people’s ability to make whatever food could be had go further. (She writes about her Auntie Nell’s jam-making activities with obvious pride.) And whenever she had a windfall she was happy to share it.

And about those windfalls: Hodgson gleefully records each of the “gifts” of extra food she received from retailers – which included oranges that only children were supposed to get – and items bought from roadside vendors on trips out of London. It’s really quite shocking how common fiddling the system seems to have been, and how unrepentant people were about doing it:

Went for my bacon ration and while he was cutting it had a word with the man about the Cubic Inch of Cheese. He got rid of the other customers and then whispered, ‘Wait a mo’.’ I found half a pound of cheese being thrust into my bag with great secrecy and speed!

Then going to the Dairy for my butter ration I was given four eggs and a quarter of cheese!

Despite the housing and food problems she and her friends and neighbors had, Hodgson seems to have enjoyed a lively social life throughout the war, with neighbors, co-workers, former pupils, visiting relatives, and complete strangers she encountered over lunch at the Mercury Café. She saw plays at the Mercury Theatre and wrote about them as well as the films she saw. (She seems to have had no objection to American adaptations of British literature – How Green Was My Valley was a favorite – but did complain that American films were too fast-paced for her liking.)

Hodgson’s answer to the iconic question “Is Your Journey Really Necessary?” was nearly always an emphatic “Yes!” Throughout the war she made frequent trips to Birmingham to see her mother and sister (there, too, she recounted air raids and the damage they caused); to Brede, Sussex, where two more aunts lived; and occasionally to other places in search of fresh air, quiet, and a change of pace. Although she makes note of the bad travelling conditions that she often endured, she almost always persevered.

Her politics are difficult to pin down. She idolized Winston Churchill (“The bravest of us all!”), even though his policies led to the internment of a close friend, and on weekdays she read The Daily Telegraph. But on Sundays she read The Observer and The People, and once Germany invaded the Soviet Union she became a great fan of the Russians. Hodgson was also enthusiastic about Americans: she expresses equal admiration for Roosevelt and his 1940 opponent, Wendell Wilkie, and remarked that “Really the Americans seem to give the best Postscripts,” after hearing one from Dorothy Thompson in August 1941. (She seems never to have actually met any Americans, however.)

On religion, too, she is very vague. She greatly admired the altruism and sheer energy of Winifred Moyes, the founder of the Greater World Christian Spiritualist Association, and at least in the published version of her diary she never criticizes Moyes’s Spiritualist “meetings,” but neither does she ever seem to have attended one. She appears to have been only an occasional church-goer, more often listening to broadcast services. However, she did regularly read her horoscope, as well as Edward Lyndoe’s predictions in The People, and was irritated by a Mass-Observation report that disapproved of the finding that 40% of the British public had some degree of interest in astrology.

A couple of aspects of Few Eggs and No Oranges did make me uncomfortable. One is Hodgson’s enthusiasm for what could be called “air-raid tourism”: as soon as possible after learning where bombs had fallen during a recent raid she went to have a look at the damage, telling her readers about what she saw. This seems to have been a popular pastime, as she rarely seems to have been alone in her rubbernecking. People probably wanted to be reassured that others were worse off than they were, which is understandable but doesn’t make the behavior any less creepy.

And then there are the bits that brought me right up against the limits of my Anglophilia. On several occasions Hodgson mentions off-handedly, and for no apparent reason, that someone she encounters is Jewish: “Met Ivy [Croucher, an actress and elocution teacher; she’s the one who was made homeless three times] coming back from her lunch at the Grosvenor with her Jewish pupil.” Later, during a visit to Birmingham, she notes that she “got four [oranges] from a Jewish trader by spinning him a yarn.”

What exactly is the point? Did she enjoy inducing the produce vendor into actions that could easily have landed him in court? How did she even know that either of these people were Jewish? The distinctive dress of those now known in the U.K. as the strictly Orthodox would have been a rare sight at the time, especially away from London; and if Crompton’s pupil was eating at the Grosvenor Hotel, as is implied, then he or she can hardly have been Orthodox at all. And then there’s this:

Went to see The [Great] Dictator today. How I enjoyed it! Superb satire! For all its tomfoolery written with a profundity of serious purpose. The speeches of Hynkel, half-German, half-English, are there. People who understood German were even more convulsed than I was. ... The palace scenes, where Hynkel did not waste a moment, were all in the spirit of German thoroughness. But Mussolini in real life does not smile so much. All done by an East End Jew! [emphasis added]

One hardly knows what to say — other than “Wrong on both counts, sweetheart.”

When Persephone republishes a book, they don’t simply reprint it from the original, but set it into type anew. (Their reprint of Mollie Panter-Downes’s London War Notes 1939-1945 features a row of tiny U.S. flags at the top of each even-numbered page and a corresponding row of British flags on each odd-numbered one.) The original Few Eggs apparently included illustrations that aren’t in the reprint. All we get is a hand-drawn map of Notting Hill and Holland Park; while beautiful to look at, it’s reproduced here on such a small scale as to make it essentially useless. I’m slightly sorry that I didn’t try to find a used copy of the original publication.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed reading Few Eggs and No Oranges, and recommend it to anyone who’s looking for a (very long) first-hand account of the British home front.

#world war II #u.k. home front #first-hand accounts #diaries #a long post for sunday #the beta post editor is unable to handle a post of this length and complexity

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jonathananubian · 4 years

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Te Dralyc Kar Ch 6 [Star Wars Fanfic]

Synopsis:

Jango isn’t quite sure how he came to adopt a blonde slave boy after a job on Tatooine went sideways, but he honestly couldn’t complain. The boy is a little genius, brimming with compassion and a willingness to learn. The only hiccup, as far as Jango is concerned, is the fact that his boy is a naturally powerful force user. Someone the jetii would want to get their hands on.

Of course- he’d just like to see them try.

[This story isn’t linear. More like a series of snapshots. At least until later chapters.]

Chapter 6: Haran

In his secure base on Rorak 4 the red Nikto lounged inside his luxury apartment. The new shipment was already being processed and he could already envision the wealth of credits he’d be swimming in once the sale went through. Sipping at the alcoholic beverage in his hand he leered over the datapad at some of the merchandise. Opening a channel he called down to the guards and ordered them to bring him a specific product from the new shipment. A thrill of anticipation ran through him as he waited.

And waited.

Calling down again he cursed at the guards and demanded to know what was taking so long. But there was no response, only static. An explosion rocked the very foundation of his base and K’tharsin cursed vehemently as he flicked through different channels, trying to contact any of his guards. No one was responding.

Behind him the door to his expensive apartment blew off its hinges and he scrambled toward the panic room he’d had built into the place since day one. From the smoke and haze of debris a whipcord zipped through the air and latched onto his leg. The owner of the whipcord grabbed the end and yanked, hard, slamming the red Nikto into the ground with enough force to daze him.

Storming into the room, fierce like a stalking predator, was a Mandalorian in silver armor with a blue flight suit. Terror swamped K’tharsin as he immediately recognized the famed bounty hunter. “Wait! Please! I-I’ll pay you double whatever the price on my head is!” The Mandalorian stopped, black visor staring down at him coldly. Before he could even think to offer more credits two blaster bolts seared into his skull and three more through his torso.

“Who said anything about credits?” Jango said to no one as he untied his whipcord, turned on his heel, and left the dead Nikto behind.

[Shiona]

Helping Maav load more of the kids into the transport the purple Twi’lek felt her stomach roil in disgust and chest burn with rage. When Jango had come out of nowhere, asking for a favor, she’d punched him in the side of the head before hugging the daylights out of him. They’d heard tales there was a possibility he was alive and had learned about the bounty hunter sharing the name of their lost Mand’alor but hadn’t wanted to believe, in case it was just some trick to draw them out of hiding.

What she learned of the aftermath of Galidraan set her blood to boiling. Now, after years of thinking their king was dead, he returned asking for a favor? There had to be a pretty damn good reason for it.

Lo and behold there was, and his name was Anakin.

The picture Jango showed her was one that had been taken by someone else, a candid shot if ever she’d seen one. The blonde was sitting on Jango’s lap holding up a little flag with a racing logo on it, a wide grin on his face and eyes sparkling with joy. The gentle smile on Jango’s face as he watched his son was enough to make Shiona’s heart melt. It was obvious how much he cared for the boy.

So when he explained that someone had nearly kidnapped him to put him back into slavery, that the one responsible was purposefully targeting kids to sell, she gathered a few of the Haat Mando’ade she’d kept in contact with and got them in on the raid. When they learned they were saving kids from slavery none of them even asked if their was a contract or reward. Kids were precious, regardless of whose kids they were. Not to mention the inherent disgust at slavery in general.

Their reaction to Jango had been a mixed bag of joy, grief, anger, and disbelief but in the end they all accepted that he was, in fact, the Mand’alor- and that their Mand’alor was calling them to action.

No one cared that it was out of revenge for messing with Jango’s son. No one cared that they had been divided for years after Jango’s reported death. The Haat Mando’ade weren’t going to sit back when someone was dealing in kids. Especially if they’d attempted to try and snatch the Mand’alor’s son. That was a very deep and personal offense none of them were about to let slide.

“That’s the last of them, Captain. We’ll meet you at the rendezvous and head toward our destination from there. Safe travels.” Shiona waved the man on and got back into her ship. Maav, seeing she had things well in hand, quickly headed to the cockpit to start up the ship.

“Captain, got a present for you.” Catching the datachip out of the air she looked it over then raised a brow at Zermot, their most talented slicer.

“What’s this?” The man grinned at her.

“Proof.” Her eyebrows rose and she eyed the man curiously.

“Proof of what?” She asked him, fondly exasperated.

“Of why you shouldn’t mess with Mando’ade.” He paused. “And that Jango’s back. Our comrades are going to want proof.” She nodded and slipped the datachip into one of her waist pouches. She knew just the person she could send a copy of whatever Zermot had cooked up.

[Roz]

Watching the scene play out again the pink Toydarian chuckled with dark amusement. Trust Jango to take his revenge in the most daring, competent, and vicious raid anyone had seen in years. It was a neat military operation the likes of which could only be accomplished by a tactical mind and a trained mercenary force. The bounty hunting guilds couldn’t even fault him for it, either. Not only was he freeing enslaved children, which no respectable guild would dare disagree with, but the organization had tried to steal his own child. Roz knew the guild would look the other way on the matter.

“What’s so funny ba’vodu?” Clicking off the video she smiled at the blonde head that was peeking into the room, smudges of grease across a pale forehead and nose.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Just a silly video a friend sent me.” Anakin’s nose scrunched up as he scrutinized her and she smiled. “What are you working on now? I hope you didn’t take apart one of my expensive appliances again without asking.” Blue eyes went wide and darted toward whatever it was before coming back to rest on her.

“Uh… naas. Dar’baati, ba’vodu.” ‘Nothing. Don’t worry, auntie.’ Roz let out a sigh. Jango was going to have to teach the boy how to lie better, he was absolutely abysmal at it. Especially since he always slipped into Mando’a whenever he tried. It was a dead giveaway for anyone who knew him.

“Anakin.” She said sternly. The boy blushed and chewed on his bottom lip.

“Okay, but… you looked really busy and I actually know how to fix it this time! It was leaking anyway and I thought it would be nice to do something for you…” She wanted to be cross with him, she really did, but she just couldn’t bring herself to be. Not when he was trying so earnestly to do something nice for her.

“Fine, I’ll overlook it this time. As long as there’s no mess and it actually works when you’re finished.” A smile like a sunrise crossed his face and he was quickly nodding.

“Lek ba’vodu!” ‘Okay auntie!’ Roz sighed as the boy darted off, he was always so full of energy it was a wonder Jango could keep up with him. She honestly never thought she’d learn to speak Mando’a either and yet here she was helping a little Mandalorian child to learn his basic letters and how to hold simple conversations. It was something she knew Jango had once thought to leave behind him, to keep to himself and never speak about with her, but his son just had a way of bringing hope and light to everything he touched… except for her washing machine. That poor thing looked like it someone had stuffed a frag grenade inside by the time Anakin had finished with it and tried to turn it on.

The comm on her desk chimed and she flew over to answer. “Yes? What is it?” There was a request for docking from five ships, none of them with familiar transponder codes and all of them clearly of Mandalorian make. Roz smiled and granted them access. She had no doubt that Jango wouldn’t be far behind.

“Anakin!” She called. The boy came running into the room, wiping his hands on a greasy rag.

“Yes auntie?” Landing beside him she smiled and ruffled his hair, which made him pout.

“Go get cleaned up, quickly. There are some guests in the hangar and your buir should be right behind them.” Anakin whooped and ran off to get cleaned up, leaving Roz to smile warmly at his retreating back.

[Anakin]

Once he was properly washed and changed into the nice tunics his buir had bought him he followed Auntie Roz to the docks, feeling as if he was going to explode with excitement and joy. He was so happy that his buir was back and if he wasn’t heading straight for the medics it meant he wasn’t hurt! Anakin preferred when his buir came home in one piece, since he hated to see him hurt. It reminded him too much of the last time he saw his mom and then he got all sad and anxious…

When they reached the docks his buir was standing with a group of people, although Anakin didn’t really pay them any mind. He wanted to make sure his buir was there, real and whole. Running as fast as he could, ducking around the workers and other guests, he barreled right into his buir’s side, clinging to him as if he could be taken away at any moment. “Su’cuy buir!” ‘Hi dad!’ His buir let out a chuckle and pried him off, making him pout, before he was being lifted into the man’s arms for a proper hug.

All the conversation stopped and he could feel the curious eyes of the people his dad had been talking to. “Anade, ner ad Anakin.” ‘Everyone, my son Anakin.’ Smiling he waved at the group of armored individuals, staring at their armor in open curiosity and awe. “Anakin, anade.” ‘Anakin, everyone.’ Jango made a few hand motions that Anakin didn’t yet understand, since his buir said he needed to learn Mando’a before he could learn the Tigaan, or Mandalorian Hand Signs. After a moment of hesitation the other Mandalorians removed their helmets, except for one of them. They made a few small hand gestures at at his dad, who nodded respectfully back. The last Mandalorian kept their helmet on.

“Su’cuy gar, anade!” ‘Hello, everybody!’ Anakin said with a wide grin, happy that he could talk to them in Mando’a at least. The first Mandalorian, a purple Twi’lek, smiled at him.

“It’s nice to meet you, An’ika. Your buir told us all about you.” Anakin looked at his dad, eyes wide. His dad just chuckled and ran a hand through his hair to soothe his sudden embarrassment.

“Mand’alor, I’m sorry to interrupt but we need to talk about the ade.” His buir frowned and he could feel his mood turn from content/amused/joy to rage/sadness/determination. Flinching back slightly he looked the man in the eyes for a moment before giving him another hug.

“What are they talking about, buir?” Jango hugged him back, arms protective rather than smothering.

“Remember the hut’uune that took you?” Anakin nodded solemnly, his eyes going hard at the memory. “They took other kids too. We went to rescue them.” Anakin’s eyes widened and he began to shake slightly as he gripped his buir’s armor.

“D-did they have chips too? Can I go see them?” Buir felt hesitant and defensive in the force but his expression became calm and contemplative so he stayed still, almost wanting to hold his breath waiting for the answer.

“You can come with me to see them. But if I think you’re in danger and I tell you to go you will listen to me, An’ika. Tion suvarir?” Yes, he nodded, he understood. Buir set him down and took of his helmet, clipping it to his belt before taking Anakin’s hand.

They had some former slave children to help and Anakin would do his best to make them understand that Mandalorians were nothing to be afraid of. Mando'a Translations; Hut'uune- Cowards Tion suvarir?- Understand?

#fanfic #fanfiction #star wars #mandalorian culture #adoption #mando'a #young anakin skywalker #mandalorian anakin #true mandalorians #mandalorians ocs #rozatta #slavery #past slavery #jango fett #found family #genius anakin

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pulpwriterx · 3 years

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A SHEEP AS BLACK AS MIDNIGHT IN SPACE

It is a dark time for the Galaxy. General Enric Pryde and Supreme Leader Snoke have unleashed a reign of terror, dealing the New Republic a terrible blow with the Hosnian Cataclysm. But all is not lost. General Organa has discovered a New Hope from the desert of Jakku, who will become the Last Jedi. After Rey, Han Solo, Chewbacca, Poe Dameron and Finn, the former FN2187 undertook a daring raid that led to the destruction of Starkiller Base, Rey has gone to Ahch-To, to study under the reclusive Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. And he will tell her a secret. There is another.

I: THERE IS ANOTHER.

Luke Skywalker sighed, heavily.

“Master Luke, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I destroyed my own family, Rey. And the Galaxy is paying the price. Did you ever wonder why Han and Leia don’t live together? Why I’m in exile, here? There is another. Or at least, there was. My nephew. My paduan. The best and worst student at the Jedi Temple. Ben Solo.”

“Ben Solo! Didn’t he die at the Jedi Temple?”

“In a way, he did. He doesn’t use that name, anymore.”

“Then he’s alive? Do you know what happened to him?”

“A great many things. First? There were his mother's expectations. She had his whole life planned out. His Royal Highness, Prince Benjamin Skywalker Organa-Solo. He was going to be the perfect Jedi, the perfect young leader, the perfect fair-haired son of the New Republic. He wasn’t supposed to be a giant behemoth of a man, who was too much like his father and his grandfather to fit in any mold. Han and I pretty much figured that Big Ben was going his own way by the time he was six. His hair was down to his waist, and he’d scream and break the scissors with the Force if you came near him to cut his hair. He wouldn’t wear clothes. Just a pair of underwear, if you took him out. He wanted to be a Wookiee. He wouldn’t speak Basic. Just Shriiyywook. We worked it out. But Ben never really changed.”

Luke sighed.

“As he grew to manhood, I started seeing my nephew as a monster. His obsession with his own duality, and that of his grandfather. His heretical leanings toward the Grey Path. And his vows? Forget vows. Not my nephew, the king of taboo. Jedi are supposed to take vows of chastity, and honesty. To have control over their emotions. Ben sold cigarillos, wine, and rubbers from his father’s smuggling operation out of my father’s TIE Fighter, his personal vehicle. He lost his virginity when he was 14 to his best friend, Talia who was 13. As usual? Han was the best worst father, ever. He took her to get an implant, and kept Ben supplied with rubbers. Which he needed, because any of my female students who were curious about their resident Rebel Angel? Let’s just say, Ben never failed to satisfy their curiosity. He didn’t listen to me when I tried to stop him. He really thought he meant something to these girls. After all, they meant something to him. It took Talia telling him she was going to rent him by the hour out of her Wookiee foster father’s garage in Mos Eisley, because he laid more pipe to more satisfied customers than any spaceport gigolo. I mean, how do you teach a six and a half foot tall Force of nature who has been using the Force since he was a toddler in a crib to open the cupboard and get the cookies?”

“He likes cookies?”

“Ben? He eats like a Wookiee. Literally. Chewie taught him to cook.”

“But he likes cookies?”

“Eats them by the box."

Master Luke laughed.

“Now I see that all of it was so very minor. I used to get so angry with him about the TIE Fighter, and the smuggling, and Talia, and the other girls. He didn’t trust me to tell me how the Dark Side, how Snoke was stalking him. It had been a terrible day, for Ben. I disciplined his little group of girls, and all four of them blamed everything on him. Not Talia, though. She spoke up for Ben. But the other three girls? They didn’t take his side. They gave him up. He sat in his hut and cried, all day. He really cared. He did. The poor kid cried himself to sleep. I went to check on him, that night and I felt the Dark Side all around him. While he was sleeping. I thought he had given himself over to it. I attacked. I almost cut off his head, but Ben defended himself. He blocked my lightsaber with his and punched me in the face as hard as he could. If I wasn’t a Jedi Master who can anticipate my opponent's movements. It would have broken my neck. But he didn't mean to kill me. Ben was just scared. As it was, I was unconscious until the morning. By then? It was all over."

Rey couldn’t believe the enormity of the act that he had just admitted to.

Trying to murder his own paduan, his own nephew!

“What happened to your nephew after he brought the building down on you? Did he join the Dark Side.”

“No. He packed up his gear and walked ten miles to the spaceport, and made it there by morning. He left Yavin 4 on a Mandalorian freighter with a business associate of his father’s, Din Saxon, under an assumed name that he had identity papers for. Now he’s partners with Rotta the Hutt, Jabba’s son, Din Saxon, the Mandalorian, and Han Solo. They revived the old Galactic Black Market, and now there’s a war on, not only are they making a fortune? They’re the only game in town for a lot of little things that people find it hard to live without. They do sell arms and coaxium to both sides, but they only sell the low-grade junk to the First Order and at three times the price they sell to the Resistance. I hear that Ben’s doing well. He hasn’t realized his ambition to meet the girl the Force has bound him to, but he still has his friend, Talia. I trained her as a Jedi Healer, and she's since gone to the Republic Medical School. She's Ben's personal doctor. As reckless as he is? He needs to travel with a farkling doctor. Pardon my language. The point is, my nephew renounced the Jedi and the Sith, the Dark and the Light, that day. He wants no part of it. He follows the Grey Path. As it was laid out by Master Qui-Gon Jinn. He also wants no part of this war. His name is Ben Solo, but the name he does business under, the name you’ll have heard of is his alias. Kylo Skywalker. The Arkanian.”

“Ben Solo is Kylo Skywalker, the Arkanian?”

“Yes. And he and Han are looking to add a good scavenger to their operation, because Kylo just bought the salvage rights to the site of the Battle of Yavin-4. And he’s the new owner of the ruins of the Second Death Star. You were the best scavenger at Niima Outpost. I’m sure you're the woman for the job.”

***

Kylo Skywalker was truly a man larger than life.

He wore a black oilskin duster, caped and hooded, festooned with grommets, pockets, and epaulets over a black pair of pilot’s coveralls, tucked into tall black jackboots.

He also wore a huge pair of brown leather and Beskar chrome goggles, with shatterproof mirrored lenses.

And he was the tallest, burliest man that Rey had ever seen.

He sat down across from her at the table she had picked out at the Niima Cantina.

The man had a quiet air of undeniable menace about him.

It put Rey on edge.

“You should try to hide that you have that much strength in the Force. The Sith are real, and the First Order take who they want.”

“Not if I work for you, Jedi Temple dropout, right?"

“I picked a good time to leave. I hear you're the best scavenger at Niima Outpost.”

“I am. Can you take those goggles off? I feel like I’m talking to a man with no eyes.”

He lowered his hood, and took off the goggles.

Time stopped.

And it wasn’t just because Kylo Skywalker the man had grown up to be a black swan with dark, saturnine good looks out of the ugly duckling of a boy that Master Luke had described to her.

It was because Rey was fairly sure it was him.

The man with whom she had shared a bond in the Force, for as long as she could remember.

She never knew his face, or his name, but now that she saw him, she somehow recognized him.

“It’s OK. I feel it, too. The Force brings people together for all kinds of reasons. Look at it this way? Now you’re sure to get the job. You’re hired, Rey…”

Rey shrugged.

“Just Rey. My parents left me when I was a little girl. I never got a last name. I don’t have identity papers, either.”

“That’s OK. I can get you some, if you need them.”

The doors opened.

Rey was excited to see Han and Chewie, again.

Kylo laughed.

He had a beautiful smile.

“My father. And my godfather. But you knew that, because my Uncle sent you here to recruit me. But I get the feeling you might decide to stick with me and the Old Man, instead. Keep that quiet, though.”

Han and Chewbacca sat down.

“She really is a scavenger. A friend of Poe’s. He got her into this mess. I got her out of it. So, you hired her, right, junior?”

“I hired her.”

“How you been, princess? You don’t look so good.” Han asked.

“You can tell us. I used to be you, after all. The Galaxy’s only hope.” Kylo joked.

“It was awful, mostly. Really awful. Master Luke was nothing like I thought he would be. Sometimes, he was very kind. But sad. As if he forgot that he was supposed to be terrible. But some of the things he taught me just confused me. Or scared me. I’m afraid of myself, now. What I might do.” Rey admitted.

“Forget it. Forget everything he taught you. It’s meaningless. The Force has no Dark Side, and no light. That dualistic nerfshit thinking? People made that up. As an excuse to control each other. And make war. You shouldn’t be afraid of what you’ll do, like it’s not up to you. You make your own destiny, Rey. Look at me. I made mine. I’m no Jedi. And I’m no Sith. There is another way. The Grey Path. I can teach it to you, if you want. Think it over. But as for all that poison Uncle Luke poured into your ears? Look what it did to him. Forget it.” Kylo advised her.

“Sounds like Luke is in bad shape, junior.” Han mentioned.

Casually.

“When Rey reports back to him? We’ll send him some supplies.” Kylo said.

“Rey, do you really want to be a Jedi?” Han asked her.

Nobody had asked her that, yet.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, try working with us for awhile. If you don’t want to go back? I won’t send you. I learned my lesson on that. With junior, here. Even after that Snoke bastard burned the Temple, Luke tried to get me to send my kid back to him, one more time. I said no. Since then, I get to visit my wife, but we don’t live together. And the kid and her aren’t on good terms. But Ben’s alive, and doing good, and the Sith and the First Order didn’t get him. It’s worth it. Don’t go back if you don’t want to. Let ‘em have their farkling war, without you. Fuck ‘m.” Han told her.

Kylo raised his pitcher.

“Dark side? Light side? Fuck it. My side.” He said.

He motioned to the Rodian barman.

“Rey works for me and Solo, now. If there’s trouble with her? You’ve got trouble with all of us.”

“I never had trouble with Rey. You made a good choice, Rey. These guys are the real deal. Order what you want, kiddo. The Arkanian has deep pockets. The deepest in the Galaxy.”

Rey was very hungry.

She ordered a lot of food, and a cheap half bottle of red wine.

“Don’t bring her the cheap stuff.” Kylo told the Rodian.

“Why are you so rich, Kylo?” Rey asked.

“He gets dressed up like another Darth Vader. Red lightsaber and all. And we raid First Order ships with full cargo holds. Or Crimson Dawn freighters. Sometimes First Order warehouses and depots. All he has to do is show up and…say it, Vader junior. Say your thing.” Han suggested.

“I am Kylo Skywalker, Lord Vader. All of this belongs to me. Surrender to me all that I ask for. Or you will die. Quickly! I find your lack of haste disturbing.”

Rey shivered.

But, much to her shame, not entirely in fear.

“That’s why I call him junior. Because I ain’t calling him Kylo. I didn’t name him Kylo. You should see these assholes give up. They usually just kneel and grovel. Sometimes, we have to get tough? But most of the time? It’s all money, it’s all for the taking, and it’s all ours.” Han explained.

“I also liberate Stormtroopers. Snoke takes them from their families, when they are children. And he brainwashed, humiliates, tortures, and enslaves them. The First Order takes their faces and their names, and makes them kill. For Snoke. It’s what he did to me. It’s what he meant for me. I didn’t deserve to live that way. No one does.” Kylo added.

“What happens to them?”

“If they have a home to go to? I help them return to it. Or find a job. Some of them work for me. They are my people, I am their Chieftain. No one else cares about them. Not my mother. Not the Resistance. Not the New Republic. I care.” Kylo told her.

Rey nodded.

The idea that Darth Vader’s grandson, the Galaxy’s only Grey Jedi Master, a ruthless pirate with unlimited money, was the self-styled Arkanian-style Clan Chieftain of a small army of loyalists with military training was a little unsettling.

And that’s why the General wants him. She wants not just her son, but his people, and the influence he has over not just them, but potentially the First Order.

When Rey thought that, Kylo turned to her.

“The Old Man and I are dangerous, ruthless men. But compared to my mother? We’re baby Ewoks.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Han agreed.

And just like that, Rey was working for the Outer Rim Cartel.

Her food and wine showed up.

“So, junior, I talked to the guy? The guy about identity papers for Rey. You object to her being a Solo?”

Kylo smiled at Rey in a way that let her know she wasn’t the only one thinking what she was thinking.

“As long as she isn’t supposed to be my sister? It’s fine by me.” Kylo replied.

"Nah. It says I'm her legal guardian until she's 21. So, that way, nobody can steal you, from me, Rey. I also put you down as Junior's common law wife. Then, after you're 21? Nobody can steal you from him. Considering the way you two keep looking at each other? I figure you don't mind."

"So, this is my wedding night?" Kylo asked

"Watch it, kid. They're just papers. It's not like I bought her from Unkar Plutt and I'm giving her to you."

"Yes, Kylo. This is our wedding night." Rey told him.

Chewbacca made a comment.

"It was not fast, Chewie. Rey is her. The girl of Ben's dreams. It's the Thunderbolt. Didn't you know, when you first met Mala, that she was the one for you?"

Chewie said something about how he wasn't talking about that kind of knowing.

"Yeah, well, it's none of our business. They're probably just kidding around. Come on, old pal. Let's not be the extra dicks at the wedding."

Han got up.

Chewie said something, sternly, to Ben that Rey didn't understand, and Ben replied earnestly.

Rey decided she was going to have to learn better Shriyyywook.

After Han and Chewie left, Ben opened the bottle of wine.

"Since we've suddenly found ourselves married? I should make you some kind of vow. Think about the loneliness you felt on this desert, Rey. The longing for someone, something to come for you. Think about it, and let it go. Because you'll never be that alone, again." He told her.

"You have nothing to worry about, Ben. You're every bit as strong as Darth Vader. And just as much a man as Han Solo. You may think you're the ugly duckling. But you've transformed into a beautiful black swan. What happens, now?"

"We'll eat our dinner, and drink this bottle of vintage Corellian red. And then? We'll start doing whatever the fuck we want. And we'll keep doing whatever the fuck we want, until death comes for us. And the son of a bitch is going to have to sneak up on me."

Kylo poured two glasses of wine.

Rey began to think this might really be where she was meant to be, after all.

Happy fanfiction day!

#reylo #ben solo lives #ben solo smuggler #reylo au #reylo romance #tros fix it #han solo lives #rey x kylo ren #reylo fanfic

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geeky-introvert · 4 years

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I’m Here III . Ivar X OC

Summary: Gertrud and Ivar have been plotting to overthrow Oleg but they had to continue to be very careful. With Hvitserk back with Ivar, working with Dir in secret and the war coming to invade back into Scandinavia, it was only a matter of time....Third and final part.

Word count: 2010

Warning: Death, language and fluff.

Tag list: @lisinfleur @mdlady @didiintheblog @alicedopey @rekdreams247 @mblaqgi @oddsnendsfanfics @aphnxrising @happydaysandersen @therealcalicali @naaladareia @inforapound @captstefanbrandt @waiting4inspiration @tabalugax @p8tn0lish @igetcarriedawaywithyou @laketaj24 @darlingp @tephi101 @youbloodymadgenius @lordsexmachine @wonderlandofsu @alwaysbenhardysgirl @sparklemichele @ivaraddict

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please.

Gif credit to me.

It felt so long that they both had to continue to play along, to stay on Oleg’s good side just until the war was won before they made their move. Gertrud felt so anxious to drive a blade in the back of Oleg’s back, twisting it and letting him feel the same pain she felt in her heart for all he’s done not just to her but to Ivar and their twins.

It was a bit surprising to have Hvitserk joining his brother again, after finding him in such a bad way and being banished from Kattegat, for killing Lagertha. She had no sympathy, in fact she was proud of him for finally dealing with that murderer.

She had missed him though, he was always a favourite of Ivar’s brothers. To see him meeting his niece and nephew for the first time brought joy to her heart, seeing both him and the twins having fun together brought a smile to her.

Then there was Igor, a child who turned out to be the empire, a whole title but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the boy. The poor thing has been through a lot, forced into things and being taken by Oleg to raise and manipulate to become the perfect ruler in his image. What was good though was Igor enjoyed spending time with them, and grew a fond bond with Ivar, almost like a father. He even liked to spend time with her and she embraced the boy like a mother would. All he needed was just parents to love him, to live as a child and enjoy as much of it as he could. In a way they have helped him too and tried to keep Oleg’s twisted words away from his young ears.

It wasn’t long after they helped Oleg’s brother, Dir, escape from such a cruel imprisonment that Oleg started to become a little more paranoid about who to trust but seemed to continue to trust Ivar, but not her. He was smart to not trust her and she wasn’t surprised. But being married to Ivar his hands were tied as he needed to get Ivar as king again in Kattegat.

After winter has passed it was spring, and also time to set out to invade Scandinavia. Gertrud wanted to join, to fight, but of course much more she wanted to keep the twins safe and that wasn’t the only thing keeping her from not going.

“Be safe, my love.” She kissed Ivar and pressed her forehead against his own just as they were all about to leave. Once she got word they’ll make their way to join them for their celebration, and for the rest of their plan to take place as well.

“I will, my darling wife.” Ivar whispered kissing her a second time before embracing the twins. “You both be good for your mother now, keep her happy and safe, won’t you?”

“We will, papa.” Yrsa and Ulf answer at the same time before standing around my legs.

Once Ivar had stood back up again she smiled and caressed his face. “We’ll be together again, I promise. We need you.” She then moved his hand down to her flat belly, silently telling him of the news through her eyes with a warm smile.

“You’re with child?” Ivar was shocked as his eyes swelled suddenly.

“I am, and this time you won’t miss out on anything for our third child, I promise.”

Ivar let out a beaming smile and kissed her passionately. He was so happy, and hated to be leaving her and his children like this but it won’t be for long.

No matter what they’ll always be together, as a family.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Once word was given that the battle was won Gertrud took the twins and made their way towards Kattegat with a few of Oleg’s guards. Of course, she expected nothing else, which is why there was a plan unknown by them.

Once they were halfway the ambush was given. Each of Oleg’s men were taken out. She could’ve done it, sure, but she had the kids to worry about and made sure they didn’t see what happened. Dir’s men then came and she went with them so hse could speak to Dir and let him know about what was happening.

He had healed well, scarred for life but least he was alive and strong.

Gertrud and Dir spoke for a while before some of his warriors changed uniforms and led her back to Kattegat. Everything was planned, it was only a matter of time.

By the time we got there everyone was still celebrating their victory. Entering the hall I smiled seeing Ivar and both Ulf and Yrsa ran up to him and Hvitserk.

“I’m so happy to see you both well.” I say coming closer and kissing Ivar. “Everything is in place, just as we planned.” I say about Dir, but still carrying on as if it was meant about all of this happening around us.

“Just as we planned.” He says back smiling before hugging the twins.

Sitting down together for the feast I kept a close eye on the twins as they played with Igor. This was indeed a time to celebrate, but my mind was too focused on what was to happen soon at the right signal.

While Oleg had his back turned I whispered to a thrall, one I had learned to trust and promised her freedom if she kept the children safe. She nodded and headed over to them, staying close at their side.

“My friends! This is a glorious moment for us!” Oleg shouted, spilling his mead everywhere. “We won the war! They fear us! They flee from us! We conquered!”

The room erupted with more cheers and she joined, blending in before Oleg looked at her, a blank stare, as he’s done before while she smiled in return, showing everything was fine.

“Glad you could join us for this victory, Gertrud.” He says sitting down with them in front of her. He never liked her, she knew this, and she never liked him.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.” She answers before taking a drink from her mead.

“Tell me, how is my brother?”

She held his stare as Ivar and Hvitserk looked at him as well. Looks like the moment was about to happen. Of course they couldn’t keep this away from him, he had ears and eyes everywhere, they weren’t even surprised that he knew something was up.

“Whatever do you mean? How should I know?” She asked, still playing along.

“You know exactly what I mean, you sneaky bitch.”

“Don’t call my wife that.” Ivar said back defending her.

“I’ll call her whatever I please.” Oleg looked like he had her cornered, that he had the upper hand, the king, but he was wrong about that. “Your wife here has betrayed us both by coming here with my brother’s warriors. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

So that was all he knew, he thought only she was behind it all, not Ivar.

“You’re crazy and paranoid.” Gertrud smirks at him. “And drunk.”

Suddenly Oleg throws everything off the table and everyone goes quiet, his men getting ready to take her prisoner and to stop Ivar and Hvitserk from getting in their way. However she didn’t even flinch and held her stare at him, unaffected by his actions.

“I knew you were trouble the second I saw you.” He snarls down resting his hands against the table. “You women are all the same, snakes, vipers, just fucking cunts! Take her to the cells, I’ll deal with her later.”

In the moment, before Ivar could defend her further, shouts and blades hitting together were heard coming from outside, confusing Oleg and making Gertrud smirk more.

Looking at her children she watched as they were taken in the back by the thrall before the front doors burst open, and Dir’s men charged in, slashing their way through. Ivar and Hvitserk joined in against Oleg’s men, attacking them now while Oleg stood there staring at the scene unfolding, confused and baffled. Silently she came up behind him, blade him hand and suddenly drove the dagger into his neck, holding him there and bringing her lips against his ear while he choked on his blood.

“Not only did you kill Hilja, but Vigrid as well, and many other people you simply didn’t like. You won’t hurt anyone anymore, you foul monster. No one is going to miss you.”

Turning him around she pulled the blade out them, blood splattering against her face while he stumbled backwards trying to stop the blood, but it was useless. She watched, satisfied as he fell to the ground with blood spilled everywhere, bleeding out before becoming lifeless.

The remaining of Oleg’s men were killed and some surrendered, taken as prisoners. It was all over then, so fast. Ivar came up beside her, helping clean some of the blood from her face and giving her a warm smile.

“I’m proud of you, my love.” His words made her smile before she kissed him.

“Thank you. I’m proud of you as well. You no longer need to be his puppet, you’re free and we’re home again. Kattegat is yours, my love.”

“Ours. Kattegat is ours.” He repeated and pressed his forehead against her own.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As the months passed by Ivar and Gertrud became king and queen together. He finally decided to not go after those who followed Bjorn, now that he was dead, as was Lagertha, he saw no need to send fear throughout the lands more.

Dir returned to Kiev with Igor, to teach him to become a better emperor as trades were agreed to as well. They missed them, and held faith that he will indeed become a good leader for his people and lands.

Gertrud was heavily pregnant, just like she was with the twins which made her question about this pregnancy but she stayed silent about it not wanting to get excited over nothing.

When the time came it was a struggle like the first, but she had a lot of support from everyone including Ivar right at her side while Hvitserk took care of Ulf and Yrsa.

It was a painful and anxious wait, fear only growing more the longer it went on. Then finally the midwife saw the head and helped deliver the baby, within moments the second baby followed, two crying infants and giving Gertrud a moment to rest as they were cleaned and wrapped after Ivar cut their cords, still in shock.

“We have twins again…” He whispered looking down at his wife, proud of her.

“Yes…” She panted softly. “Twins….another two mouths to feed.” She joked lightly, already loving the two of them so much.

The midwife and a thrall finally brought them both over and letting them settle against their mothers chest, cooing and looking around curiously, bright blue eyes and blonde hair. “Another boy and girl.” Gertrud was so proud of what the gods have given them. “They’re so beautiful. Can we name them both what we agreed on?” They already knew.

“Yes, of course, it only fits them both well.” Ivar says tracing his finger over one of their chubby cheeks with a smile.

“I had hoped you would say that.” Looking back down at them, she kissed each of their heads. “They live on in both of you, our sweet children. Hilja and Vigrid.”

At that moment Yrsa and Ulf came running in not able to wait any longer to meet the surprise that waited for them. Hvitserk stood by the door, smiling proudly at his little brother and his family. They were indeed a whole family, together, never parted again.

#vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #ivar x reader #ivar imagine #hvitserk #oleg #fluff #revenge #death #fandom #fanfiction

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wolfpawn · 4 years

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I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 139

Chapter Summary - Danielle goes to New York on a business trip and when she gets home, plays hostess.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1@black-ninja-blade

Danielle sighed as the pilot declared they had finally made it back to London. There was an issue in New York that meant her flight was cancelled, which in the grand scheme of things was not too problematic, she was, of course, her own boss, but it did mean she had to rearrange a few things around that she had planned for the next day, and the dinner she had planned to have with Tom that night with perhaps some fun, was cancelled, but overall, it was fine, she just wanted to be home.

The few days in New York were tedious and boring. It was mostly regarding the business side of Safeguard, taxes, profits, the usual boring work, but there was also a few arguments regarding blame for the few incidences that had occurred in the work year. When the finger-pointing of said blame began, Danielle sat back and read the entirety of the documentation for her office, since none of the lawsuits were directly against her office, so the finger-pointing parties would be brave to even suggest she had a part in any of them. She read the costs of the business and noted that they needed to streamline a few issues regarding costs in the office. While the men bickered, she wrote a few suggestions on a post-it and placed it in her file. When it was suggested she move herself to the US as she was the only one without a blot in her worksheet, she scoffed and told them it was London or nothing. She would happily walk away from the job that day were they to cut the London office or insist she leave it, reminding them that she was not even a year with the company and they had not had the productions to match anything the US offices had faced, so she would not be likely to have had the issues they had had, but with their name growing in Europe also, it was only a matter of time that their business would pick up larger projects and be prone to the same issues as the US offices had. Offers of better packages and deals did nothing to sway her, she was adamant, she wanted London, it was her home, that is where she had built her life and nothing would sway that. The most she would do would be to move out of the city, but her home was with Tom in Britain with their dogs, friends and family.

She was spotted a few times in New York, a few people took photos and even a girl came up to her and asked her to tell Tom that he had inspired the girl to follow her dream and that she had been accepted to some acting school and to thank him for being an inspiration. Danielle smiled and said she would before messaging Tom to tell him. Overall, the trip was boring. New York was interesting, or she assumed it was. She saw very little in her time there due to her busy time dealing with all things Safeguard related. There were also events planned in the evenings in different restaurants which most often ended up in clubs, the latter part of which, Danielle avoided. She was not interested in such things and the last thing she wanted to do was be seen acting mad without Tom there. Even a simple stumble would be construed as being shitfaced drunk and she did not want that. Never did she think that she would have to consider such things, but Danielle found herself actively considering such and as she skyped Tom or messaged him from her hotel room and watched the terrible photos go up on Facebook pages of those she worked with, she did not regret her decision. Tom urged her to go the first night, but when he saw she wanted to stay in, he said nothing more, instead telling her what happened in her absence.

She walked through the arrivals lounge, getting her bag and walking through the airport terminal and into the drop off area. She had it planned and was just waiting to see if the timing worked well, sure enough, not five minutes later, she saw her car coming towards her, chuckling to herself at Tom smiling at her from the driver’s seat. She walked to the door to the back seat and placed her suitcase and rushed to her own door, seeing the line of traffic that was coming behind them.

Tom, seeing the same dilemma barely waiting to hear the click of her seatbelt before driving off. ‘Hello.’ He grinned almost coyly.

‘Hi, what are you driving my car?’ She smiled.

‘The dogs and I went for a spin today and your car was closest to the gate.’

‘You did that ridiculous thing where you cannot get your car out with my car in the way, haven’t you?’ Tom said nothing but looked sheepishly at the road, causing her to laugh. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine, I missed you, but fine. What about you, you seemed annoyed yesterday?’

‘I was forced to be away a night more than I wanted, of course I was. I just...New York is not somewhere I would go too often. I went to Central Park, which was beautiful, but…..I wanted to be home.’

‘So no move the “Big Apple” for you?’ Tom asked.

‘Not in a million years.’ She shook her head. ‘They wanted me to move over, did I tell you that?’ She turned to look at him, seeing the shock on his face. ‘I told them I would walk before I would ever consider it. This is home, I am not leaving.’

‘What did they say?’

‘What could they say? They only want me over there because of the whole no lawsuits here thus far.’

‘So they want to drag you down in your stats?’ Tom’s jaw clenched. After the comments Lucas made regarding her using Tom as a stepping stone the time he offered her a part of the business, he was not too fond of the Australian, when all of the errors by the US offices were forced onto her desk causing her to have to work double shifts, he became more unlikely to become a fan of her fellow partners. He hoped when the time came to consider her options after the five-year contract, she would consider more options than staying with Safeguard if such became more commonplace.

‘No, I think they are just hoping to spread the madness in general but I am not interested. I want to be here, with you, our dogs and all this...okay, I would like a little less rain.’

Tom chuckled before taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. ‘Even with the rain?’

‘There is no question for me, this is home.’

Tom smiled as she recited the words that he had said the time people were urging him to go to LA to have more of a chance with his acting career. ‘Even if it is not Ireland?’

‘I miss Ireland, I miss a lot about it, but I built my life here.’

Tom bit the inside of his cheeks at her declaration, she saw her life with him. The offer of more at work paled in comparison to what she had with him. He heard her trying to stifle a yawn beside him. ‘Did you not sleep well last night?’

‘I didn’t sleep at all, and then there was this woman on the plane, in the seat in front of me, God Tom, she was like a banshee.’

‘A what?’

‘A banshee, a sort of Irish fairy, renowned for its high pitched wails and shrieking.’

‘So no sleep there either?’

‘None.’

‘I need to ask, about tonight?’

‘Yes?’

Tom glanced at her for a moment, seeing her confusion. ‘You forget what we planned?’

Danielle thought for a moment before groaning. ‘Shite, I forgot.’

‘I will send them a text.’

‘What, no. We had this planned with ages.’

‘You’re too tired though.’

‘Doesn’t matter, I will go home, get an hour and go get ready.’

‘Elle…’ Tom interrupted. ‘Ben and Sophie won’t mind.’

‘I was supposed to be home yesterday.’ Danielle groaned. ‘I want this.’ Tom glanced at her for another moment as they wanted to join the flow of traffic. ‘I want to do this.’

‘I don’t want you to feel pressured.’

‘How tidy is the house?’

‘Good, I mean, I didn’t wash behind the couch, but…’

‘Right, stop at Waitrose on the way back, or the Co-op and we’ll grab what’s needed. I’ll jimmy the food a little so it won’t take us too long to do and we’ll be sorted.’

‘So dominant, aren’t you?’ Tom smiled.

‘You love it.’ She grinned in return.

‘Right, that’s everything.’ Elle smiled, putting her arms around Tom. ‘Thank you for all your help.’

Tom turned and enveloped her in his arms. ‘Any time Darling, the doing of jobs to entertain our friends is not a burden for you alone.’ He leant down and kissed her. ‘I have missed you.’

‘It’s only been a week.’

‘A long and terrible week.’

‘So what day are you heading to promote Infinity War?’

‘Too soon.’

‘Are we going to your mums for your birthday?’

‘Not this year.’ Danielle looked at him. ‘I am needed here the morning after.’

‘But she’s coming here, right?’

‘I was going to talk to you about that.’

‘What “talk about” she is your mother, of course, she has to come here.’

‘Dad wants to be part of things too.’

‘Oh.’

‘Exactly.’

‘They are adults, they know how to behave.’

‘You don’t mind?’

‘Why would I mind? Tom, they are your family. Speaking of family, guess who is coming to London?’

‘Your aunt that is less than pleasant?’

‘Close. Siobhán.’

‘Yeah?’

‘She and the poor fecker she is going out with are coming over for a few days. I said I would be available to spend time with her. If you are available, we should bring them for dinner.’

‘I think that’s a wonderful idea. Where are they staying?’

‘I got them a good deal in Premier Inn in Archway.’

‘Close enough to town.’

‘Exactly, and a healthy distance from here. Family are great but under your roof, not always. I will meet them in King’s Cross and show them where to go and see what days they want to do what and let you know.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’ He pulled her to him. ‘You’re exhausted.’

‘Is that your way of telling me I look like crap?’

‘No, I did not say “you look exhausted”, I am saying you are exhausted, I can see you are tired, but you don’t look half bad for someone as tired as you are.’

Danielle laughed as he grinned at her cheekily. ‘Hey.’ He chuckled. ‘I am tired, I won’t lie, but I want to do this. We don’t get to see Ben and Sophie as we would like. Speaking of which, I need to put the roast veggies into the oven.’

‘Good….’ Tom paused as Mac and Bobby barked, informing them that their guests had arrived. ‘I get that, you do this.’ He kissed her for a moment before walking out of the room.

Danielle did as she had planned. When she turned around again, she smiled warmly. ‘Well, hello strangers.’

Sophie hugged her tight. ‘You survived the madness of a premiere.’

‘Barely. It is so hard.’

‘So no Infinity War for you?’

‘I have not even considered it, we’ll see. How is work?’

‘Overwhelming, what time did you get back yesterday?’

‘I am home with about, six hours, I think. And I did that thing where I went for a sleep and woke more tired than I went to sleep.’

‘I hate that, you should have called and cancelled.’ Ben leant down and kissed her cheek. ‘Hello.’

‘Hi.’ Danielle smiled back. ‘Tom offered, but I wanted to see you both, we both did.’

‘Well, we are amazing.’ Ben chuckled.

‘Drinks?’

‘You know me so well.’ Ben beamed as he clapped Tom’s shoulder, the two men going to get something to drink.

Danielle rolled her eyes before getting two wine glasses and the white wine she knew Sophie liked. ‘So, how are my favourite boys?’

‘So bloody adorable, I need to show you a picture of them in a minute, but for now, you need to talk to me about how you felt at the premiere.’

‘Are you asking or is Tom asking through you?’

‘I am asking. Tom doesn’t need me to ask for him.’

‘Well, he has used Ben-ogram and Sophie-ograph before. It was fine, I just...the shouting was so loud.’

‘It can be overwhelming.’ Sophie nodded. ‘How were the fans?’

‘Great, good, I cannot fault them. If any of the nasty ones said anything, I didn’t hear it. All the ones that spoke to Tom were apparently complementary and one or two papers covered it and yeah, there were a few comparisons to any woman he stood next to for more than six seconds and indeed Swift, but overall, it was fine. The weird thing is, the Irish Independent, a paper from home, obviously, went into more detail than most about me, talking about my career and whatnot, so that felt a little odd.’

‘I know, they will get what they want, then they tend to leave you alone. But of course, that means….’

‘They’ve already snooped around and made you uncomfortable?’ Danielle finished.

‘Yes, it’s not nice, but we signed up for this, both of us.’ Sophie stated factually. ‘We knew about who Ben and Tom were, about their fans and how we would be treated. We should not have to deal with this, but we knew about it being a factor.’

Danielle nodded. The day she realised there was a chance that Tom felt as she did, she was forced to think about such things, and as their relationship progressed, after everything with their fight over the GQ article, she knew she had to work through certain things she was worried about at the time. It was true, they should not have to deal with it, but they had little choice. They could hardly ask Ben and Tom to change from the careers they loved because they had come along and did not want to deal with what they knew were their lives. ‘No, I could never do that to him, the same as I would never expect him to do it to me.’

‘If he does, don’t hide the body too well, it’s not fair on his family.’ Sophie joked.

#i hate you i love you #chapter 139 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #wolfpawn

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mrlnsfrt · 4 years

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Mental Health, Music, and the Bible

So here we are, 1 Samuel 16:14-23. To be honest I spent a week wavering, unsure if I would tackle this portion of 1 Samuel or just skip over it and hope no one noticed. This is a very challenging portion of scripture and many of the resources I usually use did not address the questions the text brought up in my mind. But as I woke up today and set down to write the post I felt compelled to write on it and also I was able to find one recourse that really helped me gain a better understanding of some of the issues taking place in this narrative. So let’s follow the story and deal with these issues as they come up.

In my last post, Heart Matter, we witnessed the anointing of David as the next king of Israel. Along with the anointing, David also received the spirit of the LORD (1 Samuel 16:13). In this post we follow the progression of events and discover that the spirit of the LORD has departed from Saul.

Choices and Consequences

Saul has been making a series of bad choices.

First, he offered a sacrifice instead of waiting for Samuel as God commanded. (more info at Obedience During Emergencies)

And Samuel said to Saul, “You have done foolishly. You have not kept the commandment of the Lord your God, which He commanded you. For now the Lord would have established your kingdom over Israel forever. But now your kingdom shall not continue. The Lord has sought for Himself a man after His own heart, and the Lord has commanded him to be commander over His people, because you have not kept what the Lord commanded you.” - 1 Samuel 13:13-14 NKJV

Second, Saul made a rash vow and was willing to kill his own son. (more info at Abuse and Misuse of Religion)

Then Saul said to Jonathan, “Tell me what you have done.”

And Jonathan told him, and said, “I only tasted a little honey with the end of the rod that was in my hand. So now I must die!”

Saul answered, “God do so and more also; for you shall surely die, Jonathan.”

But the people said to Saul, “Shall Jonathan die, who has accomplished this great deliverance in Israel? Certainly not! As the Lord lives, not one hair of his head shall fall to the ground, for he has worked with God this day.” So the people rescued Jonathan, and he did not die. - 1 Samuel 14:43-45 NKJV

Finally, God told Saul to completely destroy the Amalekites but Saul spared king Agag and the army took spoils from their defeated enemies. (more info at Mostly Obedient)

Now the Lord sent you on a mission, and said, ‘Go, and utterly destroy the sinners, the Amalekites, and fight against them until they are consumed.’ Why then did you not obey the voice of the Lord? Why did you swoop down on the spoil, and do evil in the sight of the Lord?” - 1 Samuel 15:18-19 NKJV

We must keep these events in mind as we look at Saul in 1 Samuel 16. I would like to highlight that the problem is not so much the poor choices that Saul made, but rather his lack of repentance. We do not see Saul humbling himself and seeking God.

Saul had said, “I have sinned,” but he never repented. No doubt he regretted the consequences that flowed from his preference of self to the will of God; but he still loved to have his own way. The spirit that prompted to set aside God’s command for his own choice was unchanged. It in itself was a state of war; but still it was restive, unsubdued; it chafed under restraint and conviction of rejection, and sometimes would break out in fury that its preferences should thus be chastised. “As a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke.” It is this element of cherished sin, this persistent continuance in the original state of mind that contracted guilt, which poisons the entire life. It sets the whole man at war with God, and renders irksome what to a penitent, lowly heart would be meekly borne. Truly when men sin, and “will have it so” they are so far left to themselves as to work out in their life all manner of miseries.

- Spence-Jones, H. D. M. (Ed.). (1909). 1 Samuel (p. 304). London; New York: Funk & Wagnalls Company.

This would be similar to you being completely aware of a sin in your life, but instead of humbling yourself before God and begging His forgiveness, you feel angry at God for making such a big deal out of such a small sin. You’re not sorry about your behavior, you don’t think it’s that bad if bad at all. You’re upset about the consequences that accompany your poor behavior. You’re upset that you can’t just be happy with your choices, but you have no desire to turn to God. You refuse to humbly come to God, even though you’re fully aware of His coming judgment and that you are living your life outside of His will.

Transition

A transition has been coming for a while and now becomes more clear. From this point forward the story is more about David than Saul. Saul is still king, but the story is now about how David became king. In the first 13 verses of 1 Samuel 16, we witness the anointing of David, and now we witness the Spirit of the LORD departing from Saul.

But the Spirit of the Lord departed from Saul, and a distressing spirit from the Lord troubled him. - 1 Samuel 16:14 NKJV

God caused it?

This is a troubling passage. At first glance, it gives the impression of Saul being the victim of God’s bullying. It is challenging to read a text translated from a different language, especially if it was written a long time ago, in a very different place, with a very different culture. The more we read the Old Testament the more we become acquainted with the ancient Hebrew way of thinking. When you consider that God is ultimately in charge than in a way everything that happens had to be allowed by Him. I don’t wish to pursue this too far for it will distract from the main point of this passage but I do want to give you an idea of the Hebrew way of thinking. The story of Job is probably one of the best places to illustrate this point.

There was a man in the land of Uz, whose name was Job; and that man was blameless and upright, and one who feared God and shunned evil. -Job 1:1

I will super summarize the story and if you’re not familiar I would recommend reading at least the first two and last two chapters of Job. Job is faithful to God and Satan questions Job’s love and devotion to God. God gives Satan permission to cause Job to suffer.

9 So Satan answered the Lord and said, “Does Job fear God for nothing? 10 Have You not made a hedge around him, around his household, and around all that he has on every side? You have blessed the work of his hands, and his possessions have increased in the land. 11 But now, stretch out Your hand and touch all that he has, and he will surely curse You to Your face!”

12 And the Lord said to Satan, “Behold, all that he has is in your power; only do not lay a hand on his person.”

So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord. -Job 1:9-12 NKJV

So Satan goes off and causes all kinds of destruction and calamities to come upon all that Job possesses. Yet God receives blame for what He allowed Satan to do.

While he was still speaking, another also came and said, “The fire of God fell from heaven and burned up the sheep and the servants, and consumed them; and I alone have escaped to tell you!” - Job 1:16 NKJB (bold mine)

It looks like God sent fire to destroy Job’s sheep and servants. But we know this was Satan’s fault and not God’s. At the same time, Satan could not touch anything that belonged to Job without God’s permission. Are you beginning to see how it is and isn’t God’s fault?

In chapter Job chapter 6 we witness Job’s suffering from his perspective.

For the arrows of the Almighty are within me; My spirit drinks in their poison; The terrors of God are arrayed against me. - Job 6:4 NKJV (bold mine)

God loves Job, God is not shooting arrows at him, God has not arrayed any terrors against Job. But God gave permission to Satan to do it. Satan delights in causing suffering, he is the enemy Jesus refers to in Matthew 13:28.

The point is that the departure of the Spirit of the LORD allowed for a distressing spirit to come upon Saul. Did God actively send it, or is it described this way because God allowed it by removing His spirit from Saul? Both are possible, my personal preference is that God removed His spirit and Satan jumped at the opportunity to torment the king of Israel.

Mental Health

There are well-meaning Christians who believe that all mental illness is in essence a distressing spirit sent by God or some form of demon possession that can be cured with a stronger devotional life. I have yet to be convinced of this. I believe that prayer helps in all situations. I also believe that God has gifted people in ways that they help others heal. I believe that there are people gifted with the ability to help others heal emotionally and psychologically. I believe that God gives doctors and nurses and others wisdom to help heal the body and counselors, psychologists, and psychiatrists the ability to heal the mind and emotions.

We have people in the Bible who love God and yet suffer from emotionally.

The sons of Korah seem to be struggling with depression and anxiety when they penned the words to Psalm 42.

Why are you cast down, O my soul? And why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him For the help of His countenance. -Psalm 42:5 NKJV

Jesus also experiences trouble in His soul.

“Now My soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save Me from this hour’? But for this purpose I came to this hour. - John12:27 NKJV

Interestingly both the author of Psalm 42 and Jesus were emotionally intelligent enough to recognize what was happening. The author of Psalm 42 recognizes he is feeling down and disquieted. Things are not going well, he is struggling and feels like God is distant. He knows that he needs to trust in God, he knows that God will save him, even though right now he feels down. You should read the whole Psalm, you can feel the struggle in the words. This man knew God, believed in God, yet his soul was cast down and disquieted.

Similarly, as Jesus approached His death, his soul was troubled, John 12:27. Matthew records the following.

Then He said to them, “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death. Stay here and watch with Me.” -Matthew 26:38 NKJV

Jesus recognized that He was not well. His soul was exceedingly sorrowful. So Jesus sought the help of His closest friends. He did not want to be alone.

These examples are of people who had not rejected the LORD, were not living in rebellion against God, and still struggled in their innermost being with feeling down. They were aware of their feelings, they understood why they were feeling that way and that God was in control, they had faith, yet they still struggled. When you struggle with feeling down, abandoned, like there is so much sorrow in your life that it might just kill you, Jesus knows what that is like. The inspired writers of the Bible experienced emotional struggles and perhaps would have been diagnosed with depression and anxiety. They sought help, and their faith helped in the battle. I know of pastors who struggle with depression, with anxiety, Godly man and women who need medication due to hormonal imbalances.

There is still so much that we don’t understand about mental health. But in the Bible, even prophets struggle emotionally, sometimes even asking God to kill them.

But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a broom tree. And he prayed that he might die, and said, “It is enough! Now, Lord, take my life, for I am no better than my fathers!” 1 Kings 19:4 NKJV

That was Elijah, the prophet who never had the opportunity to die! Talk about unanswered prayers. I have a series on Elijah and part 4, The Depressed Prophet is probably my most read blog of all times. Struggling with mental health is not necessarily a sign of rejecting God. But imagine struggling and not having the assurance that God is in control, that God is loving and merciful, everything will be okay in the end. Do you think that helps or do you think it would make it more difficult?

Saul needs help

Saul’s servants notice that he needs help.

And Saul’s servants said to him, “Surely, a distressing spirit from God is troubling you. Let our master now command your servants, who are before you, to seek out a man who is a skillful player on the harp. And it shall be that he will play it with his hand when the distressing spirit from God is upon you, and you shall be well.” - 1 Samuel 16:15-16 NKJV

Saul’s servants recommend music therapy. If you have ever listened to music you know that music has a special influence on our emotions. Music works in mysterious ways that seem magical. We still have much to learn regarding music, its power, and influence. With that said, we should also be careful with anyone who believes she has it all figured out. I really have to control myself here because I have strong opinions on music and have been involved with it my whole life. But let’s stick to the text we are studying. If Saul is struggling with fits of rage, anxiety, depression, paranoia, etc. (I won’t cite every occurrence for the sake of time but as you read about Saul’s life form this point on you see examples of these.) It makes sense that music would be helpful. Soothing music definitely helps calm the nerves.

Talent Search

And now we witness the birth of Israel’s Got Talent!

So Saul said to his servants, “Provide me now a man who can play well, and bring him to me.” 1 Samuel 16:17 NKJV

As Saul’s servants get busy with auditions and the setting up of the stage and the sale of tickets one of the talent scouts finds David!

Then one of the servants answered and said, “Look, I have seen a son of Jesse the Bethlehemite, who is skillful in playing, a mighty man of valor, a man of war, prudent in speech, and a handsome person; and the Lord is with him.” 1 Samuel 16:18 NKJV

This description is troubling. How much time has gone by since the anointing of David? How old is David? Let’s take a closer look at the text. The word translated as “servant” is נַעַר (naʿar) which can also be an indicator of age meaning this could have been a young man. Why is this significant? Because a boy’s definition of a mighty man of valor is different from that of an adult. Imagine this boy knows David for a few years and witnessed or heard about David bravely fighting off bears and lions? Would this cause this boy to see David as a mighty man of valor? Or imagine David has sent a few would-be sheep thieves away wounded and scared. Maybe this would cause the local children to view him as a warrior while he had never really fought in a war or been a part of a formal army.

Another possibility is that the main point of this story is to transition from Saul to David. This would allow for this story to not be necessarily placed in chronological order but rather thematically. Therefore David is being described as the man that the audience knows him to be, the greatest king Israel ever had. So the narrator would be attributing to David all his qualities and contrasting him with Saul, even if all these qualities have not yet been demonstrated in the sequence of stories as they are being told.

David is a hero, a musician, and most importantly the LORD is with Him, and not with Saul. Saul had been a great man, now he needs the help of David who will ultimately surpass Saul because the LORD was with David.

Saul meets David

King Saul is so impressed with David’s resumé he cancels the talent show, which is really too bad since he never had the chance to listen to the bagpipe player.

Therefore Saul sent messengers to Jesse, and said, “Send me your son David, who is with the sheep.” 20 And Jesse took a donkey loaded with bread, a skin of wine, and a young goat, and sent them by his son David to Saul. 21 So David came to Saul and stood before him. And he loved him greatly, and he became his armorbearer. 22 Then Saul sent to Jesse, saying, “Please let David stand before me, for he has found favor in my sight.” 23 And so it was, whenever the spirit from God was upon Saul, that David would take a harp and play it with his hand. Then Saul would become refreshed and well, and the distressing spirit would depart from him.

- 1 Samuel 16:19-23 NKJV

Once again this verse is troubling. In the next chapter we have Saul not knowing who David is and I wonder again if this is not just a summarized account of how David began to learn about what life was like in the palace and in a sense began the new phase of the preparations to become king. God had provided a way for Saul to train David without Saul knowing that David would be the new king. If Saul had been humble and willing to obey God, perhaps he and David could have been best friends and enjoyed each other’s presence and God’s blessings. But sadly Saul was not interested in following God’s will.

Saul’s Rebellion

I wish to highlight a point I don’t want anyone to miss. Saul was rejected not because he made mistakes but rather because he refused to repent. Saul was not interested in following the will of God and this is why the spirit of the LORD left him. Saul was aware of this and this contributed greatly to his mental breakdown.

Guilty men, who will not sincerely repent and seek rest in Christ, know that judgment is coming, but they take care to hide that truth from others, and often bear a terrible strain on their spirits. - Spence-Jones, H. D. M. (Ed.). (1909). 1 Samuel (p. 304). London; New York: Funk & Wagnalls Company.

The music David played provided a diversion that soothed Saul’s nervous system. However, as we will find out as we continue to read the story, it did not cure Saul. Try to imagine the subduing influence David’s music had on the restless Saul as David poured forth to his harp strains of love and trust and hope in God! But as in all cases of mere diversion, the benefit was transitory. The underlying problem remained. The old fears would eventually come back in force. Saul had not sought the true remedy.

There is a lesson here for all of us. We must stop trying to seek rest and peace apart from God’s loving embrace. You can come to church, listen to Christian music, and find temporary peace and relief, but unless you make Jesus you LORD and Savior, the effects will only be temporary. As long as you continue to embrace a known sin you will not experience the peace the surpasses all understanding, even if you have a personal harp player.

This passage is not about the instrument or the type of music that David played, but rather about David’s relationship with God. Since the spirit of the LORD was with David and David made choices that were in harmony with God’s will, God blessed him and his music and everything he did. If this passage was about the type of music David played we would have been given more details on how to cast out demons through music. But all we have from David’s music is the words. If this passage and others that mention David playing had been descriptive than every church would need to have a harp to help with exorcism along with careful instructions regarding the chords and strum pattern and rhythm.

Call to action

There is one main thing that I want you to take away from this study, and that is your need for a deeper relationship with God. A relationship that clings to God when your soul is troubled, distressed, and downcast. A relationship that submits to the will of God even when it not your will (Luke 22:42). A faith that refuses to let go of God even if you feel like He is causing your suffering. A relationship where you know God as your personal Savior and not just the God of your parents, or spouse, or friend.

Do not hold on to sins that you know are keeping you from God. Turn to God, humble yourself, accept His will, and receive His salvation.

This will not make life easy, but it will guarantee your victory.

#Mental health #Music #Old Testament #Narrative #David

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holywaterandcrepes · 4 years

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Your fave show for the fandom meme?

My favourite show would probably be...Oh, I don't know. We'll go completely different and say...Hmm...You know what, let's go Far Cry 4. It's a video game, but whatever. I'll put in brackets things you can look up on YouTube for context if you want it. The game is six years old, I'm assuming spoilers are a nonissue. If you were going to play it, you probably would have by now?

Character I first fell in love with: Pagan Min. Pagan Min came out of nowhere, stabbed a dude in the neck with a pen and said you are going to pay attention to me and I was in love. (A quick YouTube search of "Far Cry 4 opening" should show you the scene I'm talking about)

Character I never expected to love as much as I do now: Kalinag. Those five missions are the highlight of the game, honestly. Shangri-La is beautiful, and Kalinag has a dark sense of humour that I love to bits. ("Every seeker dreams of finding Shangri-La and being immortalized. I don't think this [frozen in time at the moment of death] is what they had in mind...") Fandom generally agrees that those segments of the game are beautiful, but too easy and therefore boring, but I think that's the point. The Shangri-La missions are meant to be a break from the actual game, a chance to sit back, relax, get away from the whole Amita/Sabal thing, and just explore and enjoy the wonder of Shangri-La. With your badass tiger that you can sick on demons. ("Far Cry 4 all Shangri-La missions" on YouTube)

Character everyone loves but I don’t: Amita. Honestly she just...gives atheists a bad name. I get that you hate the local religion but blowing up a temple and having Bhadra "sent away" (the entire fandom essentially agrees that was a euphemism for "killed") was extreme. Far too extreme to make her the "better choice", no matter how backwards Sabal's views may have been.

Aside from that: Yuma. Everyone loves her badassery, and as much as I will admit that Durgesh segment where you're drugged out of your mind was amazing, she hates far too much on Ajay. Also don't insult people's mothers. She hates on Pagan for falling in love and...not with it, honestly.

Character I love but everyone else hates: Sabal. Sabal is considered a child-raping fuckwad in fandom, and given what the fandom sees his role as, I would agree. But hear me out: Absolutely nowhere does it say Sabal is going to marry Bhadra (who is...14? I think? for those of you not in the fandom). Nowhere. In fact, I remember reading somewhere (one of the loading screens, but I can't find it now...mandela effect maybe) that the Tarun Matara was a human who became a "goddess" by being married to the god Banashur. And the King deals with finances and stuff. I think one of Mohan's journals says the Tarun Matara deals with the army and stuff, but also the priests were against Mohan marrying Ishwari, the previous Tarun Matara - which implies the priests would be against Sabal marrying Bhadra. Ishwari's Marriage to Mohan only went through because it was pre-arranged, Sabal has no such excuse with Bhadra. He's not marrying her post-game. Relax. They'd be in completely separate roles, Sabal as king, Bhadra as demigoddess. But also Banashur, being a god, literally has no body, so Bhadra being married to a god (if indeed that is canon, like I said I can't find the one throwaway loading screen that said it) is whatever. Given that Bhadra is being married to a god, and nowhere does it say Sabal as king would have any sort of relationship with Bhadra...the whole "child-raping fuckwad" thing is just misinformation. The fandom hates him for it, but...none of it is canon. The whole fandom has basically agreed he's the world's biggest son of a bitch ever, and he is absolutely an asshole, but...not for the reasons the fandom is on his case for. So I love him and I see a potential for redemption...and it frustrates me that Sabal is hated on for something there's zero canon evidence for.

Also: Hurk. Oh my god, Hurk. The fandom loves his fun-loving, gung-ho, American dorkiness, but I just think he is the single most tedious, most annoying character ever. They brought him back in Far Cry 5, and I just...ugh. Can't relate.

Character I used to love but don’t any longer: Amita. I used to love her, but the more you play through the game, the more her options just seem...too much. Like hooray for feminism, but I'll keep women oppressed a little longer if it means not appointing someone who canonically endorses child soldiers and drug addiction.

For those of you who aren't in the fandom, the idea in the game is that there is no "right" choice. Sabal and Amita are both terrible, it's about choosing the lesser of two evils. The choice is a religious zealot who murders anyone who opposes him or an atheist who supports drug money and child soldiers, and has Bhadra "sent away". Like I said, I'll keep women oppressed a little longer to not send children into war. ("Far Cry 4 Sabal and Amita endings" on YouTube should get you what I'm talking about)

Character I would kiss: Not really anybody? There's nobody who has looks and a personality to match. That's...kind of the point of the game. If I had to choose...Ajay, the main character. But mostly he just needs a hug. ("Who else pulls the trigger around here?" My poor boy.)

Character I want to slap: Sabal. I love the guy but somebody needs to smack some fucking sense into him.

A pairing I love: Sabal and Ajay. I think Ajay is enough of a moral compass to sort Sabal out, and I do like that I can explore the darker sides of Sabal's madness if I feel like it.

A pairing I hate: Sabal and Amita. I don't understand hate fucking. Never have, never will.

@hellsrhapsody I went off and you have no idea what any of this means, and I'm sorry for that, but I was just very happy to talk about Far Cry 4, because that game is a masterpiece.

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guileheroine · 3 years

Text

a sky full of song

Korra, princess of the Water Kingdoms, receives a gift from her blacksmith friend on the auspicious winter festival. Korrasami royalty AU 🏰🤍🕯️ / My piece for the @korrasami-valentine-exchange (assignment: Date A) / 4.2k / ao3

Councillor Panak trailed off as Korra hurried him along with a gesture of the hand. He pushed his eyeglass up his nose and took her eye seriously. “To the point, then—what do you say?”

“Around the solstice, huh? Alright. Why not.” It was a way off. She had time to arrange her retinue and her schedule as efficiently as possible for maximum enjoyment.

“...That means a tour to the Earth Empire in the spring—or summer, if Her Royal Highness prefers it?”

“Oh, spring,” Korra said in a rush. “Spring. I’m not sure I can do Earthen summers.”

“Are we done, then?” Korra stood before he answered, and he scrambled to his feet after her. “Perfect!”