#the elegant robe was designed for HER argue with the wall | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katymacsupernatural · 5 years

Text

A Royal Crush Part 10

Jensen Ackles x Reader

1700 Words

Story Summary: Jensen and Y/N meet at a masquerade ball. Immediately sparks fly, but Jensen isn’t revealing the truth about him. The truth that he comes from royalty. What happens when Y/N finds out?

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

After Jensen left to relax in his own room, you sank down on the plush bed, still trying to calm your nerves. Women walked the gardens past your windows, their dresses fancier than anything you had seen. They all seemed so elegant and fancy, and you had never felt more out of place.

A huge part of you wanted to book a flight back home as soon as you could. Back home to the normalcy of your coffee shop, and a tiny shared apartment. But you couldn’t do that. You wanted to be by Jensen’s side, even if it meant being completely out of your comfort zone.

Instead of letting yourself wallow in self-pity, you stood up and made your way to the closet, planning on getting items out and ready for the ball tonight.

Your clothes were hanging on plump, ivory silk hangers. All the wrinkles had already been pressed out, looking nicer than they had in a long time. The closet was the size of your room back home, smelling faintly of lavender with a plush bench in the middle for sitting. Three mirrors lined the far wall, giving whoever stayed here ample opportunity to make sure that they looked their best.

Drawers and shelves lined the other wall, your shoes barely making a dent, looking shabby next to the gleaming pain. Even your clothes looked as out of place as you felt, and you could feel your anxiety rising again.

As you leaned against the cool, plastered wall, there was a sharp knock, before this petite woman stuck her head inside. “Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes?” You asked, wondering who she was. She had some of the curliest hair you had ever seen. Not wild, or frizzy, but beautiful curls that were piled high on her head, a vibrant dark orange. Her eyes were wide, a brilliant shade of blue, while freckles dotted her nose. She barely made it to your shoulder, wearing the same dress the rest of the maids had been wearing.

“I’m Margaret. I think Benson told you I would be coming.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry, that’s just..this is all…,”

“A little overwhelming?” She finished for you. “I understand. I came from a tiny little fishing village, to work in the palace at the age of 16. My first year I felt completely overwhelmed, and wanted to quit at least once a day.”

“And why didn’t you?”

She shrugged. “The pay is nice. And for the most part, everyone is nice to me. Or they don’t notice me. And I get to work with some of the prettiest gowns in the world. Speaking of which, let’s get you ready for the ball tonight.”

“I brought a dress,” you started to say, but she shook her head, guiding you out of the closet and into the bathroom. It had to be one of the fanciest bathrooms you had ever stepped into. The floor was gleaming white marble, so shiny in spots you could almost see your reflection. A large mirror ran one wall, with an antique, dainty vanity perched in front. A walk-in shower was on the other side, with three different shower heads, the walls matching the floor. A claw foot bathtub, probably as old as this whole palace was perched on a pedestal, right in front of the window looking down at a large pond.

“The Queen wanted to make sure you fit in during this ball, so she had one sent in from the finest designer in our country. Along with shoes, jewelry, and makeup. I will be helping with all that,” Margaret assured you. “So all you have to decide is bath or shower?”

You couldn’t remember the last time you had taken a bath. It was such a luxury of time, and you usually were in and out of the shower in a blink. “How much time do we have?”

Margaret smiled at you, and you were grateful such a sweet person had been sent up to help you out. “We have more than enough time for you to relax in a bath.”

Almost an hour later you were wrapped in a silky bathrobe. People had been bustling in and out of your room for the past ten minutes, bring in shoe boxes, clothing bags, makeup, and jewelry boxes. You had looked over to Margaret in exasperation, and she sent a kind smile your way. “Her Grace might have also bought some items for the rest of your stay. She is so excited that her son has brought a girlfriend home.”

“I’m not really his…,” you started to argue, but you thought better of it. After all, you had just traveled thousands of miles to meet his family.

Margaret was busy styling your hair, gently but with more skill than you had expected for someone so young. She wielded the curling iron easily, turning your hair into beautiful trends, piling some high on your head. Your makeup had already been applied. Not enough to make you look like a clown, but she had given you smokey eyes, highlighted your cheekbones, and covered your lips with the creamiest lipstick.

“The two of you make such a beautiful couple,” Margaret continued to talk as she worked on your hair. “He’s so dreamy. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I had such a crush on him. He visited our little village. Just once, with the King and Queen, and he shook my hand.”

You could see the faraway look in her eyes, the blush slightly covering her cheeks. “He is handsome. When I first saw him, he was wearing a tux, and a mask, and I couldn’t look away.”

“You love him, don’t you?” She asked, making your heart stop. You hadn’t even thought about the L word yet. It was too soon, and there was so much…

“I like him,” you admitted. “Even with everything that comes with him, I do care for him more than I thought I would.”

“Well, let’s get you into your new dress so you can dazzle him,” she said, standing back to admire her work. Your hair looked shiny and soft, elegantly piled on top of your head. Standing up, you followed her into the closet, which was now full of items. Flats and heels, brands that you never would have been able to afford were placed next to your Keds. Dressed, slacks and blouses hung next to your jeans and shirts, the price tags still on them. Glancing down at one, your eyes grew wide.

“I can’t except them! Look at these prices!” You exclaimed, immediately dropping the sleeve. “These are more than my rent!”

“You will. The Queen gave them to you. To not wear them would be to insult her Highness,” Margaret argued. “She is just trying to make you feel at home.”

The clothes were gorgeous, and you couldn’t wait to try them on. But still…”I think I’d feel more at home in my jeans and t-shirts,” you muttered.

It was then you noticed the dress hanging up behind the bench. It was dark green silk, just a little darker than Jensen’s eyes. The skirt was full, no doubt with a petticoat or two underneath. “Go on, put it on,” Margaret coaxed.

It felt a little uncomfortable, her standing there while you were expected to slip your robe off and put on the dress. “Oh, I forgot!” She exclaimed. She raced over to the drawers, opening the top one and pulling a couple of items out. “New panties, garters, thigh highs. Oh, and a strapless bra, which is a must for this dress. I’ll leave you to it then.”

She quietly shut the closet door behind her, leaving you to get dressed. The items she had placed out were exactly your size, fitting better than anything you had purchased before. They were lacy and black, and you felt scandalous wearing them, standing in front of the mirror. Wondering if Jensen would like them, wondering if you would ever be brave enough to stand in front of him like this.

Trying to ignore the butterflies flying about in your belly, or the warmth pooling deep in your core at the thought, you unzipped the dress, stepping into it. “Can you help?” You called out, and Margaret stepped back inside, easily zipping you up.

The bodice fit snugly, showing off your cleavage. The sleeves were off the shoulder, scalloped and beautiful. You felt like a princess, which was fitting since your date was a prince. “You look beautiful,” Margaret whispered, before taking a pair of heels from the shelves. “These will go perfect.”

You let her place them next to you, wanting to put them on last. Opening another drawer, she held out a large, velvet box. “These are from the Royal collection.”

Carefully, you opened it, a little gasp escaping your lips as you looked down at the opulence in front of you. Earrings, a necklace, ring and bracelet were sitting on black velvet. Full of diamonds, with the largest emeralds you had ever seen. “I can’t...they’re too much!” You exclaimed, moving to hand them back, but Margaret shook her head.

“You must. They were picked out, just for you.” Taking the box, she settled it down next to you. Handing up the earrings, she waited while you put them on before the bracelet was next. Finally, it was the necklace, and you leaned down so she could clasp it around your neck. It was cold and heavy, and you barely brushed your hand across the emerald before a large knock echoed through the closet.

“I think your escort is here,” she smiled, smoothing out your dress before standing back to let you through.

Hope you enjoyed this update!! Sorry it took so long. Please feel free to reblog/comment to show this story some love!!!

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @bebravekeeponfighting @brindz30 @colette2537 @deansgirl215 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller @krys198478 @librarygeekery @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666

A Royal Crush Tags: @newtospnfandom @linki-locks11 @imascio08 @joseyrw @randomstuff-idontwannatalkboutit @destiel-equals-life @deansgirl215 @mysterious-398 @iamabeautifulperson18 @karouwinchester @meganywinchester @crazysocklovingfangirl @xristina-gkika @ronnie248-blog @missbosstown @topthis808 @closetspngirl @mirandaaustin93

Forever Tags: @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @chelsea072498 @closetspngirl @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @esoltis280 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork @lowlyapprentice @maui137 @mogaruke @musiclovinchic93 @nanie5 @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25 @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek @thewinchesterchronicles @vvinch3st3r @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

#a royal crush #jensen ackles x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #katy writes #supernatural au #royal au #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x y/n

120 notes · View notes

xaz-fr · 5 years

Text

The Story So Far

Aaaaaars, my baby. I love him and miss him ;;

Dragons are humanoid unless said otherwise

To the Lost City of Mu: 10

They were seen to an antichamber deep within the great ship. A great Plateau inspired garden took up most of the room and in the back was an elegant sling chair designed for a medium sized dragon made of bamboo and silk. A pond full of fish occupied one side of the antichamber. The throne was empty. “What is this place?” Nadalin asked.

“The Matriarch’s Hall. I will retrieve the Progenitor,” said the Windborne leader and went behind the throne into another room she supposed. It was hard to tell as it was covered in foliage all over.

“Have you ever been here, Sigurrós?” Nadalin asked him.

“A few times. When you join the Caravan you meet— met with the Matriarch in her Hall and she would determine if you could join the clan. Usually over tea and lunch,” he said.

An orange blur streaked across the antichamber to stand, panting slightly, in front of them. It was the third wildclaw from the fountain, dressed in the heavy robes of a mage, his crest flared in alertness. “Nadalin?” he asked, looking right at her.

She was slightly taken aback, “Yeah. That's me,” she said slowly.

She started when the ancient Progenitor came forward and wrapped his claws around her, squeezing her tightly. He sighed happily in her ear, his neck curling around her. “I’m so glad,” he said softly, squeezing her.

“I— I'm sorry, I don't know who you are,” she said when he let her go.

“Yes, I suppose you wouldn't,” he said with a sad gentleness. “I am Ars, progenitor of the Windshear Caravan,” he motioned to himself, “Your brother.”

“I don't have a brother,” she said stubbornly.

“Not in this life.”

“What does that even mean?” she demanded. “Everyone keeps saying I'm someone I'm not. What is going on?”

“I know this is confusing for you,” Ars said gently. “I promise I will explain everything… to the both of you,” he looked at Tyberion next to her. Then he looked at Sigurrós, “Thank you, for bringing them back to us,” he said.

“That isn't all I brought,” and Sigurrós motioned to the guardian who hobbled over to show Layali still curled in her arm. “This is Layali, a true Progenitor. She is very sick and is seeking the true name of the Windsinger. She was led to believe that she would find it in Mu,” he said.

Ars went over to the guardian. Nadalin was worried for a second but Ars touched her with such gentle claws she didn't know why she bothered. Ars glowed a soft green, his eyes glowing white, as he touched her. When it dimmed he looked at one of the Windborne, “Someone send for Saturn,” he said.

“Sir!” and a spiral guard darted off.

“Bring her with us. She will be better in my care,” Ars said and took his claws off her. “Sigurrós do you wish to accompany us?” he asked him.

“I… wish to see my old friends, Ars,” he admitted.

“Of course. Rest, do as you will. The Caravan is and always will be your home.”

“Thank you,” he bowed his head to Ars. “Ars will take care of you from here,” he squeezed Nadalin's shoulder. “Trust him.”

“I don't even know him,” she said helplessly.

“No, but he knows you and loves you a great deal,” Sigurrós said. She wasn't completely convinced but she wasn't going to argue either. “I’ll come see you soon.”

“Promise?”

“Of course,” he said gently. “Go on,” he motioned to Ars who was standing there patiently, claws lightly clasped.

Nadalin reached out and grabbed Tyberion’s hand and went over to Ars. He smiled at them and beckoned them to follow him. The guardian with Layali followed as well behind the throne and into the living chambers. It was much more subdued back here with gleaming wooden floors and painted walls that were sky and treetops. Back here there were sofas and pillows to relax on. Layali was laid gently on a sofa and the guardian left. Nadalin sat and Tyberion sat next to her. Ars sat on a thickly padded sling stool.

“So, I'm sure you have a lot of questions,” Ars said.

“Indeed,” Nadalin said, Tyberion squeezed her hand so tight her fingers hurt. “Just start at the beginning.”

“I can do that. For you your beginning began the day you died,” he said with patient sadness.

#Flight rising #FR dragon share #Dragon share #Lore share #FR lore share #City of mu

10 notes · View notes

daughter-of-the-prophet · 6 years

Text

Morrigan (Tv Tropes “Origins”)

Absolute Cleavage: Combined nicely with Sideboob.

Abusive Parents: Being raised by Flemeth definitely qualifies. Particularly heartbreaking is the story of how as a young girl she stole a golden mirror, as she had never been given beautiful gifts, only practical ones. She ran back to the Wilds with it held tightly in her hands for fear she would drop it, only for Flemeth to find out and smash it against a wall.

Ambiguous Disorder: Likely due to her upbringing, she displays several signs consistent with Antisocial Personality Disorder.

Animal Motifs: Being a Shapeshifter, this is to be expected.

Shale comments that Morrigan resembles a bird, particularly the way she gazes at people.

And, as noted below, she does have a rather magpie-ish interest in jewelry.

Some have compared her attitude to that of a cat.

Sten knows a viper when he sees one.

Ascend to a Higher Plane of Existence: She passes through an Eluvian to a place that is neither Thedas nor the Fade. It is impossible to know at this time if this is simply another dimension or another Plane of Existence.

Bad Powers, Bad People: The most ruthless and unpleasant of the companions, she starts off with spells tilted toward destroying things and screwing with people’s minds.

Because You Were Nice to Me: Ilona is the first friend Morrigan has ever had in her entire life.

Berserk Button: Morrigan greatly values freedom and hates it when people are imprisoned, such as Sten. Those who willingly submit to imprisonment - such as the Circle of Magi - earn even more of her contempt. Also, as a Vain Sorceress, she has another fear:

Morrigan: "You… do not truly think I look as my mother does, do you?“

Alistair: "Have you really been thinking about that all this time?” Morrigan: "I am simply curious.“ Alistair: "And not insecure in the slightest, I’m sure.”

Morrigan: "I think I look nothing like her.“ Alistair: "I don’t know. Give it a few hundred years and it’ll be a spot-on match.”

Morrigan: "I said that I look nothing like her!“

Alistair: “All right. Got it. Totally different. I see that now”

Black Widow/Death by Sex: She tends to respond to men hitting on her with threats of this sort. Like mother, like daughter.

Broken Bird: Has the detached, cynical personality, the troubled backstory, and the dark Gothic look. This is further reinforced by the mirror story, as well as some of her other dialogue, which suggests that Morrigan is secretly desperate for a connection with the outside world, but she doesn’t know how to go about it after years of Flemeth’s abusive upbringing.

Dark Action Girl: Combined with a Lady of Black Magic.

Dark is Not Evil: Subverted. When Ilona first encounters her, Morrigan muses about whether she’ll immediately assume she’s evil because she’s one of the (legendarily evil) Witches of the Wilds. Once she’s spent a little time on the team, though, she turns out to have a very nasty Darwinist streak and in the end, it turns out that she’s been assigned to help the Wardens solely to perform a dark ritual and capture the soul of the Archdemon for purposes unknown. She gets a little closer to playing this trope straight in the ending of Witch Hunt, given that she’s apparently had enough time to defrost a little further.

Interestingly enough, Morrigan is one of the more innocent and naive characters, having only ventured out of the wilds a few times and never truly interacting with anyone other than Flemeth. Moreover, her beliefs are a result of Flemeth conditioning her to think and act in this way as it is strongly hinted that this would make it easier for Flemeth to take Morrigan’s body.

Deadpan Snarker: She doesn’t get along Alistair really well. Thus their banter is highly snarky.

Defrosting Ice Queen: Throughout the story, Morrigan starts to consider Ilona as a friend to the point where she sees her as the sister she’s never had.

Depending on the Artist: Her facial structure tends to vary between official depictions. Compare this in-game screenshot with these two illustrations. She looks like an older version of her Origins self in Inquisition, which makes perfect sense since ten years have passed.

Deus Sex Machina: Though not used to titillate the audience, for once.

Disappeared Dad: Her biological father is unknown but is heavily implied to have been of Chasind origin, reinforced by the fact that more than one character has pointed out that she resembles a Chasind. Given Flemeth's penchant for killing her lovers, it's unlikely he survived the encounter.

Druid: A bit of a Deconstruction of the type. While not fond of cities, she doesn't go on about it. Though she's clearly a Social Darwinist, she doesn't go out of her way to try to get anyone killed but Flemeth, and that only after she realizes that Flemeth's working on killing her. She's clearly modeled after the D&D druids but doesn't care for such notions as balance.

Eerie Pale-Skinned Brunette: The first half of which is odd, considering she has spent most of her life outdoors.

Even Evil Has Standards: Morrigan immediately expresses disgust that Sten has been caged like an animal in Lothering to serve as darkspawn chow by the "mercy" of the Chantry. Though he did kill innocent people, the story makes it clear that being captured by the darkspawn is one of the most horrible fates imaginable that nobody deserves.

Even Evil Has Loved Ones: Morrigan is not exactly one of the good guys, but while she and Flemeth argue and snipe at each other, it's clear she cares for her mother very much.

Evil Cannot Comprehend Good: The very idea of acting altruistically seems to be both alien and offensive to her for most of her time in the group, presumably due to Flemeth's teachings.

Evil Counterpart: Could be considered this to Wynne.

Femme Fatale:

She has a two-part dialogue with Sten in which they speak about the Qunari act.

Multiple instances where she talks about women only needing to bat their eyelashes to get men to do what they want.

The Friend Nobody Likes: And vice versa. The only people who get along with her to any degree are Zevran, Brutus, and Ilona.

Graceful Ladies Like Purple: She's a Lady of Black Magic who mostly wears purple and black. Violet is often emphasized with her in official artist's depictions, as well as occasionally being the color of her magic.

Hates Being Touched: Well, at least when it comes to simple greetings. Morrigan's just not a handshake person; she doesn't in the least understand the need for it.

Hollywood Atheist: Not so much in the reasons for her non-belief, which are fairly realistic, but in that her atheism goes along with being selfish, misanthropic, and actively contemptuous of religious people.

Hot Witch: Lampshaded, not that it's all that unusual for the setting.

Impossibly Cool Clothes: The blouse of her 'robes' are loose and draping from the shoulders and down the front, yet has a laced cinch at the back. It's possible but difficult to make and impractical to wear. Especially implausible as most of what she knew about humans came from observation, but there are no role models shown for her design.

The Robes of Possession (which presumably belong to Flemeth) share the same design.

Ineffectual Loner: Morrigan’s not a “people” person. In camp, her tent is placed away from all the others, and she has her own private campfire where only Ilona bothers to visit her.

Insufferable Genius: According to Alistair, who tries to use a Chantry-related question to mock her for it.

Jerkass: Almost all the time. As noted above, the only people who seem to get along with her are Zevran, Brutus, and Ilona.

Lady of Black Magic: Well-spoken, cunning, and evil, she has a look of wild elegance and favors very destructive spells.

Licked by the Dog: By Brutus, of course. In Witch Hunt, she’s actually rather pleased at how happy he is to see her.

Love Redeems: Morrigan’s personality during her appearance in Dragon Age: Inquisition was likely the result of Ilona befriending her. She behaves with much more warmth and compassion.

Magic Pants: Whenever Morrigan strips down to her underwear for any reason, she's always wearing a white bra and panties, even though she clearly doesn't wear a bra with her standard outfit.

Her original concept art, on the other hand, depicts her wearing a bra underneath her robes.

Meaningful Name: The Morrigan was a shapeshifting Celtic deity of war and death, but she averts the trope since the lead writer said that Morrigan is named after a character of a friend of his and all similarities with the Celtic goddess are coincidental, as they are with Morgan le Fay.

.Seems the outfit designers didn't get that memo. The crow feathers on her shoulder are symbolic of the other Morrigan.

In-universe, she seems to be named after a legendary Avvar warlord famed for her powers of seduction as well as her skills as a fighter. Given what Flemeth sent her to do, this was probably an intentional reference on her part.

Nature Hero: An unconventional Evil Counterpart of the standard version. Instead of a kindly Friend to All Living Things, she lacks compassion for anything barring a scant few exceptions, embraces social Darwinism, and doesn't hesitate to resort to murder if someone gets in her way. She's Nature Is Not Nice personified.

No Social Skills: She is largely tactless and ignorant of/annoyed by social mores; she considers shaking hands an offensive breach of her personal space, for example. This is because she was raised in the wilds, largely forbidden to interact with outside world.

No Sympathy: A big part of her character. Morrigan just doesn’t do empathy. She may surprise the audience every now and then, however - once befriended, she genuinely cares about Ilona and her feelings, expressing sympathy over the death of Ilona’s mother and having girl talks with her.

No, You: Notably in one of her conversations with Alistair:

Alistair: "So let's talk about your mother, for a moment..."

Morrigan: "I'd rather talk about your mother."

Alistair: "But there's nothing to talk ab— And besides, isn't your mother a scary witch who lives in the middle of a forest? Much more interesting."

Morrigan: "To you, perhaps. You would find the moss growing upon a stone interesting."

Not Good with People: She freely admits that due to her time in the Korcari Wilds, she's better at understanding animals than people.

Not So Different: To Flemeth.

Oblivious Guilt Slinging: Ilona unknowingly invokes this in Morrigan after befriending her. It doesn't stop Morrigan from following through with her true objectives, but it's clear that she feels guilty about it. However, when she finally reveals her true intentions to Ilona, instead of getting angry at her, Ilona understands and holds no hard feelings towards her.

Odd Friendship: Any friendship she forms, given her complete lack of social skills. It's especially notable with Ilona.

Only Friend: Morrigan admits that Ilona is the first friend she's ever had and that she views her almost as a sister.

Pet the Dog: She apologizes to Ilona for her jerkass tendencies and admits that she appreciates her friendship.

In Witch Hunt, she practically does this literally. When Ilona finally catches up to her, both Morrigan and Brutus are quite happy to see each other and she even cracks a rare smile.

At the Lothering Chantry, when Ilona asks the revered mother for her blessing, Morrigan respectfully kneel along with the rest of the party. Contrast this with her usual dismissive attitude towards the Chantry and religious belief in general.

When Ilona admits that her mother was killed during an attack on her family’s castle, Morrigan responds with genuine sympathy for her loss.

Pre-Climax Climax: With Alistair in order to conceive a child to complete a dark ritual that would prevent either him or Ilona from dying after slaying the Archdemon.

Raised as a Host: After finding Flemeth’s grimoire she becomes convinced this was her mother’s intent for her and asks Ilona to kill Flemeth for her.

Raven Hair, Ivory Skin: She has pale skin and black hair, and a few characters often comment that she’s very beautiful.

Sequel Hook: You just know the child she conceives with Alistair at the end is going to show up again. And of course, he does — in Inquisition.

Sideboob

The Smart Guy

Social Darwinist: Flemeth raised her to be a pretty severe example of this. As a result, Morrigan believes that people who can’t solve their own problems without help are worth less than nothing. It actually explains many of Morrigan’s more Stupid Evil tendencies. Perhaps the best example is in the “Broken Circle” quest, where she insists Ilona should leave the Mages to their fate, claiming that their current plight is their own fault, for a) agreeing to be caged in the Tower in the first place and b) not being strong enough to stop Uldred before things got out of hand.

Stalker with a Test Tube: Her real reason for joining the party is that she needs to become pregnant by a Grey Warden in order to complete a dark ritual.

The Starscream: To Flemeth, albeit out of self-defense rather than ambition.

Stupid Evil: Often falls into this. She seems to take the position that helping others is universally wrong, even if such aid is explicitly rendered solely on the condition of later repayment (and even if the person being helped is absolutely critical to stopping the Blight).

The Tease: Towards Sten and even occasionally Alistair.

Token Evil Teammate: Morrigan actively disapproves of acting selflessly and helping others.

Too Many Belts: Her outfit features a skirt that appears to be made out of rags and strips of cloth stitched together with belts.

Took a Level in Kindness: Takes one over the course of the story after Ilona befriends her. Similarly, despite her constant irritation at Brutus, she broadly smiles upon seeing him again at the end of Witch Hunt.

This follows her into Inquisition, where Morrigan comes across as warmer and more compassionate most likely because of Ilona befriending her.

Troll: A large portion of her conversations with other companions is this, particularly with Sten.

Sten: "Paarshara! Why do you pester me?“

Morrigan: "Because ‘tis amusing, that is why”

Tsundere: Oh yes. Type A, mostly tsuntsun, but Ilona’s kindness brings out the deredere (as much as she is capable of, anyway).

She eventually apologizes for her behavior in a very roundabout Tsundere-ish manner.

Tykebomb: One of many raised by Flemeth. Unusually, she ends up defusing herself to a certain extent, planning Flemeth’s death the moment she realizes her end use; it’s not until Witch Hunt that she finally slips her leash altogether, though. Temporarily, anyway.

Vain Sorceress: She’s a magpie when it comes to jewelry.

Verbal Tic: Almost all of her dialogue is spoken in a sing-song rhythmic style, which is not that noticeable at first but becomes far more apparent the more characters talks to her. She also has a noticeable fondness for the word “'tis,” and she uses the “over” instead of “too,” as in “overlong and "overmuch”.

Voluntary Shapeshifting: Her specialization.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #Morrigan #Tv Tropes

3 notes · View notes

atraveluniverse-blog · 6 years

Text

Moroccan Culture and Women’s Fight for Equality: Theme analysis

In her book, Dreams of Trespass, Fatima Mernissi writes a beautiful narrative from her perspective as a young girl growing up in Fez, Morocco, during the 1940′s. The main themes discussed are that of the boundaries between men and women and women’s struggle in a world of inequality.

Theme 1: Architecture, Space, and Boundaries

Before understanding the boundaries between men and women, it is vital to examine the architecture and layout of a Moroccan home. In a traditional home (or harem) a courtyard, decorated with fountains and gardens, is found in the center of the property. The courtyard is entirely outdoors and is not shaded by a roof, allowing the natural light to stream in (4-5). Around the courtyard are multiple salons (or living quarters). Mernissi describes that one salon is for her family, another is for her uncle and his family, a third one is for her grandparents, while the fourth serves as the men’s dining room (5-7). In the courtyard are stairs that lead to a second story which houses divorced or widowed family members as well as friends (5). The image below represents a likely/similar layout to the one described. The actual dimensions are unknown.

During this time, Mernissi recalled how women were not permitted to stray from the home. In fact, there was a man who would guard the gated entrance to ensure that the women did not leave. Mernissi described the space as a fortress: “Ours in fez was like a fortress... Mother could not even step out of the gate without asking multiple permissions...” (39). Additionally, there were no windows facing the street. This helped ensure privacy. “You could not, for example, open a shutter to look outside when you wanted to escape. All the windows opened onto the courtyard. There were none facing the street” (57). The physical walls of the harem signaled the boundaries separating women and the public sphere.

The traditional values hindered women. For instance, women were often required, by their husbands, to wear veils over their face to help ensure other men would not gaze upon their wives (118). Women were not even guaranteed the right to monogamy. Men were allowed to take multiple wives, forcing women to share their husbands: “...a harem meant misfortune because a woman had to share her husband with many others. Yasmina herself had to share Grandfather with eight co-wives, which meant that she had to sleep alone for eight nights before she could hug and snuggle with him for one” (34).

Women did not work outside the courtyard and were not bestowed the privilege of pursuing an education. During the 1940's young girls were receiving opportunities to attend better schools, however, the older women did not receive this luxury because it was against the tradition of their generation (200).

Only men possessed agency within both the private and public sphere. They possessed superior privileges, such as the freedom to roam the streets, receive a proper education, the ability to work in government, and own property.

The lack of equal treatment and suppression of women in both the private and public sphere created a barrier between men and women. Since the values and rules that defined Moroccan culture empowered the men, leaving many to encourage this tradition of separation: “When Allah created the earth, said Father, he separated men from women... for a reason. Harmony exists when each group respects the prescribed limits of the other: trespassing leads only to sorrow and unhappiness. But women dreamed of trespassing all the time” (1-2).

Theme 2: Women’s Creative Expression

Because of the limited freedom bestowed on them, the women in Mernissi’s life found creative and unique alternatives to express themselves.

Mernissi’s mother would express herself through small acts of defiance. For instance, her mother’s least favorite tradition was fixed hours for eating. This was because she was always the last to wake up and preferred to prepare herself an extravagant breakfast of eggs and crepes with honey and butter lathered on top. She was often too full to consume lunch and occasionally skipped the meal altogether which was rude and look down upon for being too individualistic (76). Mernissi’s mother would also secretly cook small meals outside of the designating eating hours for her and her husband to enjoy (79).

The independent woman continued to show defiance through her dress. “Mother also wanted to replace the traditional women’s haik with the djellaba, or men’s coat, which many of the nationalists’ wives had taken to wearing as well” (118). The haik (see image below) was fashioned with seven meters of cotton cloth that was wrapped around the entire body and tucked tightly under the chin to hold it in place (118). On days when the women were permitted into the market, they considered their attire torturous for being so heavy and challenging to keep up (118).

One day Mernissi’s mother appeared in front of the family wearing her husband’s djellaba (see image below), which was a more loosely fitting robe, and a transparent veil. This was considered to bring dishonor upon the family (119).

On the other hand, Cousin Chama would host theater plays about great women, such as Princess Asmahan. She would recruit other women in the family and the children to act as supporting characters in her stories. The plays would provide opportunities for the women and young girls to learn hidden talents and strengthen their confidence in themselves. “My normally very shy adolescent girl cousins, for example, got their chance to shine when they sang in the chorus” (126). The most fascinating aspect of Chama’s method is that studies today are being conducted and suggest that drama education has a positive effect on self-confidence. These women have grown up in a culture where they were led to believe their worth was less than men. However, by reclaiming their self-confidence, women will be equipped with the strength necessary to fight for equal worth.

Aunt Habiba would express herself through storytelling. She explained her motivation for storytelling: “When you happen to be trapped powerless behind walls, stuck in a dead-end harem... you dream of escape. And magic flourishes when you spell out that dream and make the frontiers vanish. Dreams can change your life, and eventually the world” (114). Aunt Habiba believed that her stories of powerful women and their ability to impact the world would spark the dream of revival in her listeners’ mind. Once that dream resonated with women, they would fight to change their situation and a revolution would be born.

One way in which all the women expressed themselves was through beauty treatments. The ingredients and methods for applying them were the one aspect of their lives they felt they had full control over (233). These treatments took hours to complete and often released an unpleasant odor. Therefore, the men would attempt to coax the women into using French beauty products, because they were less time-consuming (233). However, the French beauty treatments were produced by men, leading the women to refuse these products: “If men are now going to rob me of the only things I still control - my own cosmetics - then they will be the ones who have power over my beauty. I will never allow such a thing to happen, I create my own magic, and I am not relinquishing my henna” (233). By clinging to their traditional methods for beauty treatments, these women were able to maintain their control of expression in this respect.

Theme 3: Family and Gender Hierarchies

The first evidence of family hierarchy observed in Mernissi’s narrative was the design of living quarters. It was the tradition for the oldest son to have a more rich and elegant salon. This luxury would have been bestowed to Mernissi’s uncle and his family. However, as previously examined, Mernissi’s mother often defied tradition and demanded to dwell in a salon of equal worth to her brother-in-law (5).

A second hierarchical difference is portrayed during communal meals. “To eat in Fez, we had to sit at our prescribed places at one of the four communal tables. The first table was for the men, the second for the important women, and the third for the children and less important women... The last table was reserved for the domestics and anyone who had come in late, regardless of age, rank, or sex” (75). This clearly marked hierarchy perpetuated the separation and inequality between men and women. It also revealed the inequality between married and single women. The implication is that by not allowing all women to eat together and visually distinguishing the difference in worth there would be an unseen barrier between the allies fighting for change.

Moroccan culture clearly places a higher value on males. Mernissi was born on the same day as her cousin Samir. When Samir was born, a ritualized celebration was held for the baby boy. After Mernissi was born, less than an hour later, her mother had to demand that same celebration for the baby girl as it was not custom. Even as the two cousins were growing up, Mernissi would hide behind Samir, allowing him to stand up for her. “One of my weekly pleasures was to admire Samir as he staged his mutinies against grownups and I felt that if I only kept following him, nothing bad could happen to me” (8).

Because of the hierarchy, the two cousins, who were glued to each other's’ side, drifted apart. Their friendship became more difficult as Samir began spending more time with the men and learning politics and current events “...I secretly was thinking that I had been having a lot of difficulties with Samir lately; he had become so serious suddenly, everything had to be political, and whenever I disagreed with him, he argued that I did not respect him” (185).

At the same time, Mernissi began following the women and learning the beauty treatments. These treatments empowered women because they created and had control over the methods behind each of their treatments. It was one aspect of their life not controlled by men. However, Samir discredited Mernissi’s interest: “...I realized that he was not ready to invest as heavily in the skin business as I was. Samir tried to convince me that beauty treatments were of secondary importance, and I tried to convince him nothing could be expected from a person who neglected his or her skin, since it was through the skin that we felt the world” (219).

Due to the separation, or barrier, between men and women, they did not learn how to work together, despite their varying values and interests. They each developed a place of belonging in a society that did not value the equality and unity of men and women. Consequently, their relationship suffered.

Theme 4: Western Perspective

Morocco was behind the Western World in terms of equality between men and women. In the west, women were wearing modern clothes and taking government positions, while the women in Mernissi’s life were left to only observe the changes in the countries surrounding them. “With all the news about the Egyptian feminists marching in the streets [see image below] and becoming government ministers, the Turkish women being promoted to all kinds of official positions, and our own Princess Aisha [see image below] urging women, in both Arabic and French, to take up modern ways, courtyard life had become more unbearable for her [mother] than ever. Mother cried out that her life was absurd - the world was changing, the walls and gates were not going to be here much longer, and yet, she was still a prisoner” (200).

Many of the women in Fez looked at how the Western World provided more freedoms and began to implement different aspects of it in the harem. For instance, Mernissi’s mother would dress the young girl in western fashion. “Mother always insisted on dressing me in the latest western fashions - short, fluffy lace dresses with colored ribbons and shiny black shoes” (85). Her mother wanted to ensure that Mernissi would receive the freedoms found in the rest of the world.

Some of the older women and many of the men saw the western perspective as a threat to their culture. “Lalla Mani would frown whenever they hummed because she considered the song, about decadent fun in a western capital, to be an affront to Islam and its ethical principles” (206). Lalla Mani believed that the ancestors had already “discovered the best ways of doing things” (207). Therefore, by attempting to change the status quo they were disrespecting the culture laid down for them by their ancestors.

There is value in tradition; it gives a family or a country unity and a sense of familiarity and belonging. However, there is also value in knowing when change is necessary. By moving towards the freedoms of the Western World, Morocco would open up new possibilities to grow as a country by empowering women in the public sphere while still holding on to its religious holidays, prayers, and strong family orientation. Aunt Habiba captured the idea of this balance when she proclaimed, “...there were two prerequisites to growing wings: ‘the first is to feel encircled and the second is to believe that you can break the circle.’” (204). Still today, Morocco continues to adjust its laws in order to pave the way for women to freely express themselves and act as free agents in both the private and public spheres.

#morocco #fez #dreams of trespass

0 notes

storiesformic · 7 years

Text

Run

Prologue Part 2- Run

Previous part here

Next Part here

Master List here

Gracias Chicos!

Cassidy slowly closed the door behind her, careful not to make a sound. Her miniature body slumping against it and she let out a sigh of relief. The elegant tattoos on her face and body that were once alight with golds and purples now calmed down to match the rest of her pale skin. Her small back pack she had on dug into the skin of her back and her left hand cramped around the wooden carved staff she held onto like a vice. She went to lean off the wall but found that one of her many earrings hanging from her long pointed ears had gotten caught on her bag. Grumbling to herself, Cass quickly worked the golden jewelry free.

That relief she felt when she entered the room undetected quickly turned into a panic that shot through every nerve in her body when she heard the sound of feet running down the hall she had just come from. Her hazel eyes darted to the glowing purple orb in the center of the room on a marble pedestal. Cassidy rolled her hazel eyes at how easy they were making this for her, especially in a time of war.

She shook her head and got herself to focus, had to be careful yet quick if she wanted to make it out of this. She stealthily slipped over towards the column and leaned her staff against the cold cement wall. Her tiny fingers wiggled in anticipation as she slowly reached both her hands out to grab the mystical object. Right as her fingers were about to graze the orb the doors in the room slammed open, bouncing off the walls.

“Stop right there!” A loud voice commanded. Cassidy’s head snapped to the side to find three guards armed and ready to fight. She let out a frustrated breath of air through her nose as her lips scowled at them. She straightened up and dropped her hands back to her side, waiting for them to make the first move. One guard charged right at her but Cassidy was much lighter on her feet and better trained. She hopped over the man that lunged at her and used his momentum to throw him into the wall head first.

Leaving the man in a daze, Cass turned back towards the other two guard elves. Raising her hand up slowly, she beckoned the other two to come at her. Their eyes narrowed in slight distain as the two charged her at once. Cassidy dodged a punch at her head then quickly jumped up as the other elf swept under her feet. In midair she quickly kicked out and managed to get one of them in the gut. He stumped back but the other guard locked Cassidy’s arms behind her back at a sharp angle causing a grunt to fall from her clenched teeth. The other guard came back and round house kicked her across the face for good measures. Cassidy’s head was whipped to the side and her eyes focused on the dusty floor. Moving her jaw around she spit her blood onto the guard’s shoe. She stared up into his eyes and looked at his passive face. If there was anything elves were good at, it was managing to not show emotions.

The third guard who had first attacked Cass made his way over and the three of them started leading her out of the room. Unbeknownst to them Cassidy’s eyes started to turn a bright violet-purple, and the markings littering her body started to light up as the magic inside her started to buzz. With a sharp cry, Cassidy sent out of wave of magic and freed herself them the guards, sending them all flying backwards. This time when their heads hit the wall they stayed down.

Cass stood tall and admired her handiwork until one of the guards let out a soft groan which snapped her back to the mission. Her eyes were still lit with the vibrant colors as they focused in on the orb. Just like before, she slowly approached it. This time, however, she was able to grasp it in her hands. After a beat of silence, a gas started filling the room. In a panic, Cassidy grabbed her staff and placed the orb on top of it. The wood grew in tendrils and wound itself around the orb, effectively trapping it in place.

Cass placed the front of her robes over her nose and mouth and ran out of the room. Not caring for stealth at the moment, she sprinted down the halls. She passed by many other patrons who stopped and shouted after her. The now glowing ball in her staff drawing everyone’s attention. Not many elves have seen it in real life but they have heard stories about the orb. Knowing Cassidy, let alone any elf, was forbidden to have it they attempted to stop her.

Cassidy was able to plow through most non magical elves and her slim figure was able to duck under streams of magic aimed at her. Looking over her shoulder she saw the makings of a mob behind her, all crying out and begging her to stop. Her eyes softened as she was their clear distress and desperation, but it only lasted for a split second. This is what Cassidy is doing, there’s no going back now.

Just as she neared the edge of their village, a figure appeared from behind the trees. A male elf held bags of herbs and wood on his back, his long blonde hair was tied back with a few pieces escaping and falling around his face. He blew a long stand of hair away from his eye before looking up to see Cassidy running towards him. He smiled towards her but then immediately frowned when he heard a raging crowd behind her. Looking over her shoulder he saw most of the village now running after her. Her brows drew in confusion as he turned back to his favorite cousin, but when his eyes were drawn to her staff he understood. The reality of the situation hit him like a bolt of lightning straight to his chest. His favorite little pip squeak of a cousin was a thief.

As Cass got closer to her cousin she slowed down. Her eyes darted between his, unsure what he would do. Her cousin Simon followed the rules to a ‘T’, but he always loved Cassidy the most out of their family. He was the one who told Cassidy to always be herself and to fight for what she believed in. He was probably trying to make her believe in the cause for the war, but instead he inspired this very criminal act. Her cousin stared straight into her eyes that were still glowing with her magic. He looked over her skin that was lit up with beautiful designs and he sighed.

“You’re going to have to knock me out.” He told her sadly and Cassidy started shaking her head. As much as she had to do this, she couldn’t hurt him. “Cass it’s the only way, they have to think I tried to stop you.” He explained and her eyes went wide, he was helping her. Her cousin, the one she joked with about having a stick up his ass when it came to the rules, was letting her, a thief, go. The magic in her eyes dimmed down so that he could look into her hazel eyes that were misting over.

“I love you.” Cassidy whispered. The crowd was growing louder and she could feel the ground shaking slightly from their stampede. They commanded Simon to stop her, to catch her and secure the orb. Instead he gave her a slight nod and her violet eyes came back. He made to lunge at her but Cassidy swung her staff out and a wave of magic burst out and slammed her cousin into a nearby tree.

Cassidy paused to look over him, hoping that she didn’t cause him too much damage. But the crowd grew closer and Cassidy had to go. She made to take off but paused and looked back at her cousin once again. Quickly, she ran over and snatched one of the bags with herbs in it for her new life on the run. She darted back into the trees just as the crowd was getting too close for comfort. Hands reached out to grab at her and magic was being thrown around, but Cassidy used the trees to her advantage. Dodging the hands, she hid behind trees as magic flung at her, twisting and turning so they could never make a straight lunge at her.

But Cassidy was growing tired. She needed to find a way to lose them or else she’d be running forever. Her eyes darted around the ginormous trees that surrounded her. Looking quickly over her shoulder once again she ran straight into the trunk of a tree causing her to fall down. She heard approaching footsteps and scrambled her way around the base of the tree, pressing her back into the wood in hopes it would help hide her figure.

“Where did she go?”

“She must have gone that way!”

“No I saw her go this way!”

“No she doubled back that way!” Chaos was erupting as elves started arguing which way Cassidy went. The fighting grew quieter and quieter since they all started pulling each other in different directions.

Cass let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and slid now the tree till her butt plopped down on the dusty ground. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose to try and relieve her slight headache that was forming. ‘That could have gone better.’ She thought to herself.

A twig snapping a few feet away caused Cassidy’s head to snap up. In front of her was a fiery red fox with its teeth bared and hunched over read to pounce. Cass paled at the sight of the beast that was currently as tall as her stomach, it’s sharp teeth glinting in the light that escaped the foliage above them. Without a second thought she ran.

#evles #elf #seiries #prologue #short

0 notes