#edit ive been informed they were never married | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fxtalitygod · 2 years

Text

IV. ~Survival~

Summary: You were determined to survive, longer than anyone, even if you were set to marry him.

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, swearing/language, suggestive, Y/n having hallucinations, Giving birth/labor, pregnancy, slight mentions of suicide (if you squint), Pet names (Y/n called Little Flower 2-3x), Implications of child neglect, death during pregnancy/labor, mentions of miscarriage, mentioned Stockholm Syndrome, slight misogynistic themes (if you squint).

Word Count: 3.9k

Note: I’m sorry I'm late with this post. I was planning on posting it yesterday, but I grew unhappy with some of the material so I began to make a lot of edits. I didn't feel comfortable posting a chapter I wasn't proud of. Another thing, I have opened up a taglist for this story, so if you want to see the rules about the taglist, they are in one of my more recent posts (I will be making a separate post for it soon). This also leads me to remind and/or inform everybody that I have opened up my asks, so don't be shy to leave any! Also, another friendly reminder, I will be posting every Sunday so look out for updates. Enjoy part IV of Survival! ❤（っ＾▿＾）

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules•

• Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt.III • Pt.IV • Pt.V

"Y/n, time for bed!" your mother called out.

You let out a whine, wishing you could play with your older siblings a little longer. Reluctantly standing from your place on the floor you made your way over to your waiting mother.

"Do I have to right now? Can I not stay up for just a bit longer?" you whined.

"Yes, it is getting late Y/n and we need to have an early start tomorrow," your mother responded, turning on her heel and taking your hand.

"But I-"

"That's enough Y/n, you must not set a bad example for your younger sisters, come now," your mother interrupted, leaving no room for argument.

You grumbled the entire way to the room, still feeling sour about not being able to stay up to play with your older siblings. When the two of you arrived, you were met with your awaiting younger sisters. You split off from your mother, tugging your hand out of her hold to make your way over to your futon. Sighing, your mom began to tuck all of your younger siblings into bed. The constant whispers of “I love you” and “goodnight” were beginning to get on your nerves.

It had been a few minutes of those last whispers of goodnights before your mother went to leave the room. Turning around to close the door, however, she noticed a certain someone still wide awake. Letting out a sigh she made her way over to you, in hopes of talking you into falling asleep.

When you noticed your mother making her way over you quickly turned onto your side, your back facing towards her. You weren’t really all that upset anymore, maybe a little disappointed, but not upset; however, you didn’t really want your mother to know that.

Your mother bent down to your side, shaking her head at your childish actions before tucking you in properly.

“Y/n, don’t be like this” she started, placing a hand on your tiny shoulder, “You know we have a busy day tomorrow so we must try to get a good night's rest, we can only achieve that by having you and your younger siblings sleep earlier.”

You hardly listened to her, still wanting to act sour about the ordeal. You pulled your shoulder away from her hand, letting out a small huff. You would go to the bed, but not without a pout and a little statement.

"I would never make my kids go to bed this early," you grumbled, closing your eyes.

"What was that Y/n, do you have something to say?" your mother questioned with a bit of a threatening tone, eyebrow raised as if to warn you.

You were not ready to sign your death wish yet, so you kept your mouth shut and shook your head. You remained to keep your eyes shut so as to avoid eye contact, not wanting to look into the piercing gaze your mother was giving you.

With a sigh, she pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear before lightly tapping on your shoulder, trying to get you to look at her. Based on your lack of movement, she knew you were being stubborn and had to find another way to get you to look at her, but it was risky. Hovering both hands over your small body, she launched her attack.

Tickling.

You let out a boisterous laugh, trying to contain it; trying to stay mad, but you couldn't. Your mother laughed along with you as she watched you squirm and kick at nothing in particular. She eventually stopped, giving you a chance to catch your breath.

"So you think you can be a better mother than me?" she asked, but this time she had more of a teasing tone.

"I don't know, what is it like to be a mother?" you asked, a spark of curiosity lighting up in your eyes.

You watched as your mom sat there, trying to think up a good answer for your question; she was trying to think up an answer that a 10-year old could understand. When it hit her, she looked at you with a soft smile.

"Well, based on my experience, it is a lot of hard work. You have to make sure your child is properly fed, cleansed, and educate-“

"That sounds really boring and tiring," you interrupted a look of disgust on your face as you thought of all the work that is involved in the work of parenting.

"It is tiring, but I wouldn't say boring. You and your siblings bring me great joy, Y/n," your mother countered, a warm smile on her face as she tucked your hair behind your ear once more. She couldn't help the small laugh she let out when she looked at your curious expression, giving you a pat on the head.

"Children are a blessing, the greatest one you’ll ever know. You’ll understand one day when you have your own children, Y/n."

Those words struck a chord in your tiny heart. You could not remember why, but you had started to cry. Your mother immediately tried to soothe you as soon as she noticed your silent tears, humming you a lullaby.

After that night, you began to fantasize about your future family, your future blessing. You became more diligent and responsible around your household, making you a role model not just in your own home but in the village as well. It was all for the little blessing you hoped to have, a child.

How naive of you...

Another wave of pain.

You had been in labor for about six hours now, and your pain only getting worse. Although you were inexperienced when it came to pregnancy, you had a feeling that the pain wasn’t supposed to be as great as it was.

Sukuna had left a while ago for reasons you could care less about, you hadn't been expecting the man to stay anyways; however, you were shocked when he let you squeeze his hand for the first couple of hours of labor as you were moved to a different room. Servants came pouring in, quickly attending to you, trying to make sure you didn't pass out or die from the excessive pain.

You wanted it to all be over, that is what you wanted from the beginning, to serve your years as Sukuna’s loyal wife and then go home. You thought you were getting closer to the horizon, but it was nothing but an illusion to keep you sane. You had to face the reality that you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Everything was hitting you like a pile of boulders. You wouldn’t get to see your parents grow old, you would never see your siblings mature, you would never truly find someone you love, and you would never have the motherly affection you had wanted with your kids.

Once your children are born, you knew you wouldn’t be able to look at them without seeing Sukuna — you knew you wouldn’t love them and you knew that made you a horrible person, but you could care less because you knew they would be nothing but the spitting image of their monster of a father.

You wished for anything that would stop this pain and future, even if it was death itself, even if you took the babies with you. What were you even fighting for? You couldn’t even remember at this moment.

“Y/n-sama, you need to start pushing!” you heard your attendant yell with urgency evident in her voice.

You blindly did as you were told, wanting it all to be over. You had been sweating, screaming, and crying for hours, it was shocking that you had time to breathe throughout the entire process. Had you known it would’ve been this horrible, you would have never gone through with it. Had you known you were to be wed to a monster long before he barged into your village, you and your family would have fled long ago.

You began to think of a future where none of this had happened to you. It was a beautiful image, one where you had your loving family, one where you weren’t wearing a fake smile. You imagined a world where you were truly happy.

The image didn’t last long, as the pain from pushing woke you from your little daydream. You tried to go back to that little world, but it was impossible now, as the pain was the only thing you could focus on.

You squeezed onto the hand you were holding onto, screaming and crying from the agony. You kept pushing as you were instructed to do, your grip only getting stronger. If you had the time to think about it, you would have felt pity for the poor soul that was enduring your vice grip.

You were beginning to grow tired, you had been at it for about three hours, maybe even longer. You could hardly keep track of time at this point, as time became irrelevant the moment your water broke.

You could hear your attendant and doctor trying to encourage you to keep going, but you began to drain out their voices. You knew that you should’ve at least tried to listen, but what was the point if you had already given up.

“I can’t do it,” you started, tears in your eyes, “I’m too tired.”

Your attendant rushed over, leaving the doctor's side to try to soothe you and encourage you, saying things like ‘this was the first step to a lifetime of happiness.’ As much as you wanted to listen to her and believe what she was saying, you just knew that a lifetime of happiness was destroyed a long time ago, it was destroyed the second you were left in Sukuna’s care.

You could only shake your head as your attendant continued to push you on, but it wasn’t worth it. You had decided to just die then and there, you had completely given up.

“Y/n!”

That voice, it took you a second to process that voice. You had heard it before, but it took you a while to believe that it was truly them. For a second the pain went away as you began to recognize that voice. You never thought you would hear that voice ever again. With tears in your eyes, you looked at the doorway to see Sukuna, your mother standing next to him.

“Mom!” You cried out as you saw her rush over to you.

Your mother embraced you, wiping your tears and pushing your stray strands of hair away from your face.

“I’m so tired, I can’t do it,” you cried out.

Your mother shushed you, trying to soothe you as she stroked your hair. Her touch and voice calmed you down almost instantly, allowing you to rationally think.

“You can do it Y/n, you worked so hard for this — a family of your own is all you ever wanted,” she encouraged.

Her words left you confused, but you were too exhausted to question her. All you could do was shake your head as you allowed more tears to spill from your eyes. This wasn’t what you worked for, you never wanted it to be like this.

You were ready to throw it all away, that was until you saw the look in your mother’s eyes, one of desperation. She wanted you to keep going. She wanted you to survive.

“Y/n, please!”

You didn’t have the heart to deny your mother, so you nodded. Feeling her hand grab yours, you turned your gaze away from her to look at your attendant who gave you a nod, signaling for you to push.

Squeezing your mother’s hand you let out a horrid scream, giving it all that you had. With one final push, you heard the cries of a new life. You sighed in relief as your body relaxed for a second; however, your relief didn’t last long because you weren’t done yet.

“Alright Y/n, we need you to start pushing again.”

Your eyes widened and a breath of disbelief as you heard those words. The only thing that brought you back on track was a squeeze from your mother’s hand. So with that small signal, you did it all over again.

The moment you heard the second set of cries, something inside of you began to stir. You couldn’t understand what it was, but it made you feel strange. Was something wrong with you? Was it a side effect of some sort? Had something gone wrong?

“Here you go Y/n-sama, a little boy and girl” your attendant cooed as she handed you the two infants.

You were hesitant, but you reached out and took the crying babies into your arms. For the first few minutes you didn’t even bother to look at them, but there was a poking feeling that wouldn’t leave you, so you looked.

“Children are a blessing, the greatest one you’ll ever know. You’ll understand one day when you have your own children, Y/n.”

Those words from your mother came back to you when you looked at their faces. They weren’t what you had expected. They were human, nothing like the monsters you had imagined. They left you feeling guilty, guilty for believing you would not love them.

They were your little blessings, it just took you a while to realize it.

With tears in your eyes, you turned around to look at your mother to thank her, but she wasn’t there. Instead, you were met with Sukuna, looking down at you and the two infants.

As much as you wanted to, you didn’t have time to think of your mother’s disappearance as Sukuna began to bend down, looking you in the eyes. Knowing better than to look away, you kept eye contact with him. Sukuna didn’t seem upset, annoyed, or dissatisfied, in fact, he had a look of satisfaction. Before you could break the silence, Sukuna beat you to the punch.

“You’re something else, aren’t you,” Sukuna stated, almost as if he were in a daze.

You were slightly shocked by his words, not thinking those would be the first words to come from his mouth. Sukuna sounded calm, which was a big difference from hours ago when he had been clearly upset and bothered. You were even surprised that he had shown up and stuck around for parts of the labor, especially now.

Your thoughts were interrupted the second you heard the twins crying. Having the realization that the two had nothing in their little stomachs, you quickly broke eye contact, readjusting your robes to let the two newborns latch onto your breasts. You watched them intently, making sure that they weren’t unlatching.

You felt a warmth in your chest as you looked at your children. Maybe, just maybe, this was the one good thing to come out of this ordeal; this marriage. Although you remembered your previous resentment, you couldn't remember why; the reason was lost to you. Looking at your twins had woken something inside you. You didn’t know what it was, but you hoped that it wouldn’t go away.

Losing track of time, you slowly drifted off into sleep. The exhaustion from the past fourteen hours of labor was finally getting to you. You took one last glance at your twins before the room went black.

Fascinating

That was the word Sukuna kept repeating in his head as he watched you sleep. To say he was astonished was an understatement. Had Sukuna known you existed in the first place he would have only sought you out when he came to your village. You were truly unlike the rest.

No, Sukuna wasn’t in love with you, not at all, but he could appreciate you for what you were. None of the other women he has been with has satisfied him as much as you did. Sukuna had grown tired of the delirium the other women had grown, building their fear into love for him or women truly believing they could overpower him by trying to kill him, it was a pitiful sight to watch. Sukuna had expected you to be no different, but you surprised him by giving him none of his norms. You obeyed his orders, but you also had a little resistance. You never tried to flatter him or try to kill him due to blind rage, you only stood there. You were truly the perfect “Little Flower” to him.

Today you proved that even more so.

You had single-handedly carried and delivered two healthy fraternal twins. Women in the past that bore the same burden as you had struggled within the first month of their pregnancy, usually having a miscarriage or even falling sick and dying themselves. Those who had made it to the delivery stage had died almost instantly when they began going through the first stages of labor — you had handled it with ease compared to the rest.

Although the daughter wasn’t as much of a thrill, he could tell that she would be a strong child along with her brother. Even if the girl wasn’t as strong as he thought she was, which would be rare not only because Sukuna had strong genes, but because Sukuna’s deductions were hardly ever wrong, she would bear strong grandchildren if she was anything like her mother.

Taking advantage of your unconscious state, Sukuna went to pick up one of the newborns, but before he had the chance your hand had moved to the child’s head as if to keep him from touching the sleeping infant.

Motherly instincts, that was admirable. Most of the other wives had thrown away the thought of their children when Sukuna presented himself to them. The only thing those women cared about was getting their cunt filled, nothing more. That was not what Sukuna had wanted, he wanted someone to bear and raise an heir for him, nothing more.

Yes, sex was a pleasure he enjoyed, but the results were what he was really looking for. You had provided him the sight he had been wanting to see. The best part was that you weren’t even awake, you were completely unconscious and you still managed to put your children first.

Although he admired you for your protective instincts, he moved your hand to pick up his son. If you had seen it, it was the most gentle thing Sukuna had ever done. Supporting the head and gently taking hold of the sleeping infant, making sure his claws wouldn’t harm the child, he lifted the baby close to his face to get a closer look.

Without a doubt, that boy was Sukuna’s kid. The boy was a striking image of his father, but that didn’t mean that the child didn’t have your features too; actually, the boy looked more like you, they both did. Although Sukuna was prideful of his strong genes, he didn't mind that the twins looked more like you, it made him admire you even more.

Before he could think up any more reasons to be captivated by you, Sukuna was dragged out of his thoughts when he heard a small whimper come from his son. Turning to look at you, he noticed you had begun to stir in your sleep, reacting to the call of your child immediately.

"Y/n, you are truly something else."

It was all just one big hallucination. It could have been from the exhaustion or the excruciating pain, but your mother had never been there during the labor.

When you had woken up the room was empty, it was just you and your baby boy and baby girl; however, it didn't take long for your attendant to walk in to check up on you, a sweet smile on her face as she made her presence known.

"How are you feeling Y/n-sama?" she asked sweetly and quietly so as to not disturb the tranquility of the room.

"I'm doing fine," you responded, trying to not sound tired so as to not worry her.

You truly were fine, but there was something that was slightly bothering you. You had been questioning your mother's sudden disappearance. You hadn't expected her to stay of course due to the rules of the temple, but for her to be there one second and gone the next without so much as a goodbye seemed a little strange.

"Do you know where my mother went?" you asked suddenly.

Silence filled the room, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"Y/n-sama, your mother was never here..."

You were confused, you had seen her, spoken to her even. You began to think you were still dreaming, but you could feel the movement and warmth from the two small bodies that were currently laying on your chest. If it wasn't your mother who was there, who else had been encouraging you.

"What do you mean, I had called out to her, talked to her even," you replied, clearly perplexed.

"Y/n-sama you called out for Sukuna, you were talking to him."

Another round of silence.

It took you a while to process those words. You had wanted Sukuna's comfort? You were shocked, but when you put it all together it all made sense.

From the exhaustion and excessive pain and not just physically, but mentally as well, you had imagined that your mother was there, making a hallucination of her because if you hadn't you would have died then and there. You continued to stay in that hallucination to stay alive because if you hadn't you would have given up, ultimately leading to your demise.

You couldn't remember how you managed to keep it up, but you were glad you did because you probably wouldn't be in the position you were in. That wasn't the only reason, making that push made you realize that your goal wasn't a loss, you were still determined to survive as long as you could and this time it wasn't just for you but your twins as well.

You would get the three of you out of the current hell you were in or at least shield them from any harm to make sure they made it out alive. You didn't care what sacrifices you had to make because it wasn't about you anymore. Not only were you determined to save yourself, but your children as well.

You looked down at your two blessings, a soft smile on your face when met with their small innocent faces, you would do anything to preserve those innocent faces. You wanted to see your children grow up with a normal life, and even though that was almost impossible within these walls, you would be damned if you didn't try.

With that in mind, you had decided to make a little oath to your newborns. Even though they wouldn't understand a word, you deemed it necessary to tell them now and maybe one day in the near future you would tell them again, in hopes they will understand.

"No matter what, I will make sure we survive, longer than anyone, that is a promise."

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout

927 notes · View notes

roonilwazlibimagines · 2 years

Text

arranged - r.b x reader

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Blurb: arranged marriages always end up with someone hurt the request was for regulus cheating on reader and so i did it an unconventional way pt 2 Word Count: 3.8k Warnings: cheating, regulus is a bit mean towards the end, bit of muggle born hate :/, but of self-doubt and feeling sad A/N: i think ive been editing this for the last month and im still not really happy with it but i dont see it getting better so ive kinda given up. also the reader is implied to be female, but there is no explicit reference to them being female (unless ive completely missed it, it is late and i am tired so if i have missed it please let me know!) also the ‘tense’ of this piece? couldn’t tell you. also i wrote like five different endings for this and i still dont like it im sorry :///

Masterlist

Arranged marriages were a common thing in the old and noble wizarding families. They’re still quite common now, but after the defeat of Voldemort there was a surge of wizards from these families who were brave enough to be with half bloods and muggle borns and go against their families wishes. It was a good thing, really, arranged marriages were completely outdated and I would never wish the pain it brought upon me to anyone else.

Just before my sixth year my parents told me that I was arranged to marry Regulus Black. His family had had issues with his older brother so it was imperative that he was to marry someone from a noble family as soon as we finished Hogwarts.

We were in the same friend group but I could count the amount of conversations we had had on one hand. Regulus was known for being mysterious and hard to talk to, but he was nice to look at and there were definitely worse people I could have been arranged to marry. It seemed that he had been told the same information because when I boarded the train the next week he had given me a small toothless smile that was more like a grimace but certainly something I had never seen him do before.

Whether it was coincidence or we both were suddenly intrigued by the other, we had ended up sitting next to each other in the Great Hall making polite small talk about our holidays. Neither one of us mentioned what our future held, but there was an air of understanding and a knowing that there was a reason for this sudden interaction.

Eventually we realised that we had quite a bit in common and I was happy to call him my friend. Walking to classes together and pairing up in Transfiguration soon turned into eating together and spending nights in the Common Room talking about our past and present, but always somehow dodging our future.

It wasn’t hard to fall for Regulus Black. He was kind when you got to know him and he was much more intelligent than he let on, and of course, there was no denying that Regulus Black was pretty and nice to look at.

Our wedding was small and we only invited our closest family and very few friends. I should have realised what our marriage meant to him when we talked that night. Our parents had bought a house for us and it was our first night sleeping in it. We didn’t speak about it, but it seemed neither of us wanted to spend our wedding night alone and so we were in our pyjamas with our backs on the mattress lying next to each other.

“You know,” we were both looking up at the ceiling but his thoughtful tone had made me look over at him, “I’m mad about being in an arranged marriage, but I’m not mad it’s with you.” I smiled over at him when his eyes quickly met mine.

“I feel the same way,” I had told him truthfully. I didn’t exactly love him at the time, we had only started speaking to each other only almost a year ago, but I had a hidden hope that one day it would turn into that.

“Could’ve been with someone horrible, but we get along,” he chuckled, “and I will let you do your thing and you’ll let me do mine and our parents will be ecstatic that we’re making it work.”

I didn’t exactly know what to say because I didn’t exactly know what he meant. There were a few meanings that crossed my mind but I told myself not to dwell on it. Our relationship needed time and understanding and if there was any chance of this arranged marriage turning into something more, I couldn’t let this small thing bother me.

About three months into our marriage Voldemort was defeated. Regulus and I had survived and fortunately did not meet the fates of our friends currently sitting in Azkaban. I got a job at the Ministry and Regulus was a successful potion maker. While mine was a regular office job, Regulus' work required odd hours and sometimes I wouldn’t even be awake when he came home. I was so happy that we had survived that I didn’t even care.

Life became easier for muggle borns and half bloods but old prejudices were hard to kill.

“It’s weird that while everything has changed, nothing has really changed, you know?” I had brought up to Regulus one night while we were cleaning the kitchen after dinner. If I was fortunate to have someone I genuinely liked as my arranged husband, I didn’t know what I was to have someone whose beliefs aligned with my own.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Regulus had murmured. There was a crease in between his eyebrows as he sank deep into thought.

“Purebloods still want nothing to do with muggle borns, and it’s still unacceptable if you’re with one.” I continued, folding my arms across my chest and leaning on the kitchen counter.

“It’s not acceptable for you to be seen with a muggle born,” he corrected me. I had agreed with him instantly as we usually were on the same page about these things. But as the night went on his words kept replaying through my head. What an odd thing to say. To be seen with a muggle born.

That night I had tossed and turned for hours, the words replaying in my mind as I tried to fall asleep. To be seen with a muggle born. I mean I guess that distinction is important. There are many people from noble pureblood families who are with muggleborns but keep their relationship secret in fear of judgement and exile. It probably wasn’t anything I needed to worry about.

She had been working in the same department with me since I started and our offices were right next to each other. She was very pretty, and nice, and a muggle born. Which wasn’t a big deal, anymore. My family had their beliefs and I had mine and I wish that I was stronger to get their voices out of my head. What does a mudblood have over a pureblood?

We were in the same year at Hogwarts, but had never spoken to each other for obvious reasons. It was awkward at first, she knew my family and their beliefs and I knew hers, but she had always smiled at me when we crossed paths and one day I took a risk and sat next to her at lunch. She didn’t move away and instead initiated polite small talk which continued until polite small talk turned into workplace gossip which soon turned into more personal conversations and I was now happy to call her my friend.

No matter how ‘noble’ Regulus and I’s families were, it was difficult trying to find work after Voldemort’s defeat and it was even harder finding new friends who didn’t constantly glare at you, for justified reasons.

I had confided to Regulus one night about the loneliness this caused me. I was sitting in our lounge in front of the fireplace, wrapped up in blankets with a frown tugging on my lips.

“I feel so lonely,” I whimpered and Regulus sat down next to me and put an arm around my shoulders, “no one at work wants anything to do with me, I have no one outside of work, I-”

“You have me,” he offered and I turned to him, trying not to look hopeful. He gave me a cheesy grin and the hurt on my face vanished as I felt my whole body relax. He pulled me into his side and I let my head rest on his chest.

“Really?” I had asked pathetically. Regulus and I were always friendly with each other, but this was an area we had never entered before.

“I’m your arranged husband,” he chuckled, “you’ll always have me.”

It was then when I was happy to admit to myself that I loved Regulus Black. Really, I think I knew all along, but at the beginning of our relationship I was too concerned about the fact that I was in an arranged marriage to properly focus on any feelings that may have been brewing. Then my worries about Voldemort had taken up all of my thinking space, and then I was so focused on trying to re-enter society as a functioning member while half the world hated me that I had almost forgotten about it.

But I knew that throughout all of that there was some hope that one day Regulus and I would turn into something much more than an arranged couple. Whether it was locked away tight or close to the surface, it was always there and I had naturally assumed that Regulus had the same idea. This conversation was only proof that there had to be something there and I felt as if I would go mad if things weren’t resolved.

I debated whether or not I should finally admit my feelings to him and the anxiety of this was making it hard to focus at work. She noticed there was something wrong the minute I sat down at lunch.

Even if I had made peace with it, the fact that I was in an arranged marriage was not something we necessarily wanted public. Regulus and I had only ever told our closest friends about our situation and most of them were currently locked up in a cell.

She never pried and I respected her for that, but with all of these emotions brewing inside of me I decided that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to let one person know about our situation.

“What’s got you down?” She was cheerful as always and I smiled up at her. I paused for a moment, debating whether or not it was truly the best idea for me to tell her everything. I didn’t want to burden her, but I trusted her and I knew if I didn’t reach out to anyone I would go mad. She was waiting patiently, looking at me with kind eyes as she ate her lunch and I decided that there were worse things I could do.

“I’m in an arranged marriage.” It was almost humorous watching her face go from shock to confusion, from skeptical to happy and then resting on a cheerful note when I reassured her that we were friends and got along really well.

“Well, who's the lucky guy? Did he go to Hogwarts?” I wasn’t surprised that she didn’t know.

“Yeah, he was in our year as well. Regulus Black.” I was so caught up in finally being able to get something off of my chest that I didn’t even notice when her face fell because she was back to smiling like a supportive friend so quickly that even if I was paying attention, I’m not sure I would have noticed. “And I know he was a bit off-putting in Hogwarts,” I giggled, “but trust me, once you get to know him he is really easy to fall in love with, but I just don’t know if he feels the same way. Which is pathetic, who gets married and doesn’t know-”

“When did you get married?” It was a little weird how she cut me off but I wasn’t thinking too critically about it.

“Early June, pretty much as soon as we left Hogwarts.” I shrugged, quickly continuing my previous train of thought, “like who doesn’t know that their husband loves them, right?” I chuckled, trying to make the situation a little less weird.

“How long did you know?” She had placed her lunch down and I pushed my own away, suddenly not hungry anymore.

“Know what?” All of a sudden a weird feeling had flooded my body. Something was wrong but I just wasn’t sure what.

“That you would marry him?” I could see the edges of her lips fighting to stay up, but there was hurt all over her face and I had regretted ever bringing this stupid conversation up.

“Just before our sixth year, I don’t know-”

“I need to tell you something.” My heart was pounding and it almost felt that there was a static in the air, a warning just before a storm.

“What?” A cold chill ran through my body and somehow I already knew the answer.

“I-, Regulus and I, we--I didn’t know,'' her voice broke off and there were tears forming in both of our eyes. “You have to believe me,” she pleaded and I wondered if she also suddenly couldn’t breathe. “He never told me he was married,” she let out a harsh sob and for a brief second I wanted to reach out and hold her and tell her that it was okay.

“I believe you,” was the best I could offer. The tears hadn’t fallen yet. I didn’t want them to. It’s pathetic being told that your husband is cheating on you and my pride wouldn’t let me be so pathetic as to make a big scene of it at work. “When?” I asked, not feeling confident in saying anything more.

“During our seventh year.” I nodded slowly. He was with her when he already knew we would be arranged. I felt like an idiot. That whole time I thought our friendship was going to naturally lead into something else he was out finding that something else with another person.

“I think-,” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as a single tear fell down my cheek, “I think I need to get back to work.” All I wanted was to be alone. Her body was shaking from the intensity of her sobs and when I stood up, she did too and she reached out to give me a hug. She kept mumbling, “I’m so sorry,” and if I was being honest I didn’t really care.

As soon as I shut my office door I let the tears fall. They fell for the rest of the day. I couldn’t stop them. It didn’t feel real. It felt like I was no longer in my body and I no longer had control over anything that happened to me. I was just there, waiting and watching it all fall apart.

The worst part was that I didn’t have a right to feel any of the emotions that I was feeling. I had never even spoken to him about my feelings and she didn’t even know he was married. I knew that none of this was her fault, not one bit of it was, but my parents' words kept playing through my mind, what does a mudblood have over a pureblood?

I had also never felt such a strong dislike about myself and if I thought I was going to explode with all of the emotions I started with at the beginning of the day, I didn’t know where all of these new ones would fit. What does she have that I don’t? Sure, she was beautiful and pretty and smart and kind and no one was even forcing Regulus to get along with her.

It was a long day. I had a migraine from all my crying and I had barely gotten any work done. I felt horrible that I had sent her away at our most vulnerable moment. I hadn’t even considered that she would be feeling similar to me. I wondered if she did.

When I got home that afternoon I started piecing everything together. That weird conversation the night of our wedding, his weird statement about being seen with a muggle born, and for a horrible minute, I even wondered if he worked late at night.

My heart sank that afternoon when I heard a pop outside. I tried to focus on my breathing, knowing that I could never do this if I was a sobbing mess.

“Honey, I’m home!” My body tensed at his voice and sitting at our dining table I didn’t respond. “Where are you?” I could hear him murmur but I stayed quiet. “There you are.” If I turned to face him I knew I would fall apart so I kept my back to him.

“You’re home early.” I commented, keeping my voice neutral.

“Don’t sound too excited,” he chuckled and I could hear his footsteps getting louder.

I let out a sarcastic hum and he pulled out the chair next to me to sit down.

“What’s wrong?” His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and when I finally turned to face him I felt the sadness from earlier come over me all over again. Trying to find my voice, I stared at him and the crease in his forehead, his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly and suddenly, I realised that I shouldn’t be upset. I should be angry.

“How did you not know?” It wasn’t my desired approach, but the anger was so strong that I couldn’t help it.

“Know what?” The concern he had for me was replaced with confusion and the cold chill I had been feeling since she first told me was replaced with a hot fire that was making me see red.

“I know this isn’t how either of us expected our lives to turn out, but I thought you’d at least respect me enough to tell me.” I was upset because Regulus didn’t reciprocate my feelings, but I had brought that upon myself. I was angry because Regulus never told me he was seeing someone, at least then I would’ve known where I stood.

“Tell you what?” I scoffed at him and rolled my eyes.

“When you’re seeing two girls you might want to make sure they don’t know each other first.” My voice was grave and I watched his face turn to stone as the words sunk in. “Do you even know that she works with me?” I glared at him and he finally turned away, “Or did you not know that I work with her?”

“I’m sorry,” his expression hadn’t changed and I wasn’t sure he was sorry at all, “I didn’t expect you to find out.”

“Obviously.” I met his gaze and kept the stare even if it made me wonder who the hurt behind his eyes was for. But I wasn’t going to be the one to look away.

“But I don’t-I thought we agreed that this was nothing more than an arranged marriage?” It would’ve hurt me less if he had slapped me in the face.

“You still could’ve told me, I’ve spent the last year trying to make this work and I feel like such an idiot now.” I think it bothered him that I was angry and not upset. Maybe if I was crying and shaking he would’ve taken pity on me, but Regulus never liked when people were mad at him.

“Trying to make what work? We are working, we’ve been doing great this last year and I-”

“You’ve been doing great, Regulus,” I spat, “I’ve spent the last few months going crazy not knowing where I stand in this relationship and I’ve just-I felt so alone and I thought we had each other-”

“I thought we were happy to do our own thing?” His voice was getting louder and I was clenching my fist so I wouldn’t cry.

“Maybe I would’ve been if you were clear about what ‘doing our own thing’ meant,” I replied sarcastically, “and even so, why did you keep her a secret? Why didn’t you just tell me about her, then?” I was going to continue but he cut me off.

“Why would I have to tell you?” His words and the venom in his voice shocked me and in that moment I knew I was about to lose all power in the conversation. “We were arranged to be married, meaning if I had my choice, I wouldn’t pick you.” I thought he couldn’t hurt me anymore, but I was wrong.

“And you think I would pick you?” I would have. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Well at least someone has picked me.” He had a cocky look on his face and I let out a sarcastic laugh.

“You think she’s going to keep you around? Think she’s going to welcome you back with loving arms and accept your shitty apology?” I shook my head at him, but he didn’t show that my words had any effect on him.

“No darling, you’re the only one getting a shitty apology.” I didn’t know what I had done to make him so mean but I didn’t want to fight anymore. It was painfully obvious now where I stood and I knew there was no hope in moving.

“I hate you,” I spat at him, finally giving in to all of the emotions that had built up and letting out a harsh sob.

“What are you going to do about it?” he challenged and it hurt me more that he was ready to deepen my wounds, “Divorce me?” He had a smug look on his face and if I was stronger I would’ve hexed him.

I was trapped and we both knew it. To divorce him would be to put a blemish on my family's name, my parents would never forgive me and I would have no means to make it by myself. I was stuck with him. I would be stuck being constantly reminded of this pain that I was currently in and I didn’t have an escape.

After I didn’t respond he chuckled, “that’s what I thought.”

“Well, I hope she makes you happy.” I was expecting him to go further and say that she does but he only rolled his eyes. I stood up from my chair and walked past him without another word.

“Where are you going?” He called out after me, not moving from his chair.

“To the bedroom,” I paused, “I assume you can go stay with her for the night?” He didn't respond and I didn’t hear the chair move but I was far from caring about what he was doing at the moment.

I threw myself on the bed and buried my face in my pillow to muffle the sounds of my sobs. I was such an idiot. I felt horrible about myself and while I knew my circumstance was different and that there were other people out there, I couldn’t help but wonder how anyone would ever love me if my own husband didn’t.

I was numb. Even if Regulus did follow me up I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to move. It was so much easier to sit in this hurt, to let out everything that had been building up inside me.

The worst part was that I knew I would never be able to escape this pain. I would face it again tomorrow when I woke up, when I got to work and saw her, when I’d get back to the house that we share, and then I would wake up again and live it on repeat.

1K notes · View notes

malleux · 3 years

Text

☆ Day 3 - Prince Albedo ☆

-> albedo x fem!reader | royalty!au

-> fluff, comfort

-> warnings: minor injuries, minor cursing

-> “pick a prince” masterlist

a/n: god i’m sorry this is so late, y’all know ive been goin through it this week fr. also, does this au have running water? do they not? i don’t know so apologies for plot holes

edit sorry the taglist really messed up life is NOT going the way i need it to rn

“You need to take this a little more seriously, Y/n.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, looking up from your book at your father, who stood with his hands on his hips in front of you. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Your suitors have been here for three days now and I haven’t seen you with a single one of them. I’m giving you a choice on who you will marry, most princesses don’t get that luxury.”

“I didn’t ask to be married off to a stranger in the first place.” You huffed. “I also was with Prince Zhongli at the market, and I went stargazing with Prince Childe, so I havent’ been sitting there doing nothing. I��m at least trying to play along in your weird little game to sell me off.”

You father rolled his eyes. “You were taught since you were little that you’d need to marry someone to rule this kingdom. You knew this was coming. Now get up and do what you’re supposed to. Choose a suitor before I choose one for you.”

You watched as your father left, glaring at him from above your book. Who was he to suddenly barge in and tell you what to do? He acted like he was the king or something...

SIghing, you began reading again. You’d go find another boy after you finished. This book focused mainly on the various types of plants and herbs found in your kingdom, as well as their uses. It was one of the only informational books in the castle’s library that you hadn’t read yet, since you plans had been interrupted by a certain arranged marriage situation that’s been going on. You were about halfway through the section of a burn-treating herb when a flash of hair caught your eye. It happened so quickly that you nearly missed it, waving it off as a staff of the castle. But, none of the staff had platinum blonde hair...

“Hello? Do you need something?” You closed your book and stood up wearily, making your way to where you saw it.

“Um, no thank you, just searching for something...” A polite voice answered.

“Well, could I help you find it? I know this library like the back of my hand.”

At that, a head full of blonde popped out from around the corner of one of the bookshelves. HIs turquoise eyes glimmered at your offer. “Really? Thank you- I’ve been trying to create this little concoction for cold resistance and it’s missing something, I just don’t know what. The ingredients I use in my kingdom seem to be... lacking in yours.”

The moment the prince mentioned cold resistance, an idea popped into your head. “I was just reading a book that mentioned herbs that may help with that! Come with me prince... A-Alfred?”

“Albedo.”

“Come with me, Prince Albedo, I’ll show it to you!”

☆ ☆ ☆

You relaxed on the wooden stool in the kitchen, sitting beside Albedo. He was standing over a cutting board, pressing the flat side of a knife into the stems, leaves, and flower of a plant. You had helped him find this plant using the book you were reading, accompanying him into the forest on the outskirts of the kingdom to pick a few of them. It took hours- every time something new caught Albedo’s eye, he had to venture over to it and make a note to come back later and study it. In those hours, you began getting hungry. You’d skipped breakfast again this morning and your lack of food was making you feel a little weak. Nonetheless, you pushed on, interested in the work that Albedo was doing.

“Princess,” Albedo called, not looking up at you, “Can you please light the fire and get some water boiling? It’s the last little step to mix this all together.”

You nodded and grabbed a match, crouching down at the cooking pot across the room. Soon enough, the fire was lit and the water in the pot was starting to heat up. You stoked the fire a few more times before deciding to stand back up. Suddenly, your vision blacked out and your knees collapsed, forcing you back down onto the ground. You put your hands down in front to catch your fall, only registering that your right one swiped across the flames near you after it had happened. You hissed, in pain from the burn and from your dizziness.

Hearing the ruckus, Albedo turned around to see you crumbled on the floor, clutching your hand. “Princess!”

You smiled at him, holding back tears, trying not to worry the prince. “All good! Just, uh, lost my balance for a moment.”

“Bull.” He grabbed your wrist and helped you up, carefully avoiding the angry red burn on your hand as he pulled you towards the sink.

Placing your hand under the running water, Albedo told you to stay and began opening random drawers and cabinets, hoping to find bandages or herbs to help. You sniffled, holding your hand under the water and dreading the moment you had to take it out, knowing that the moment you did the burn would begin to ache once more. Albedo finally found a burn-healing salve in a container near the bottom shelves and quickly grabbed it, rushing over to you and opening the jar. He held his hand out.

“This will hurt when I’m putting it on, but it’ll feel so much better afterwards.” The prince searched your eyes, his own cloudy with worry as he waited for your “okay”. When you nodded, he began putting on the salve.

The next few minutes were silent as Albedo worked. He was focused on your hand occasionally mumbling something about how you should be more careful and whatnot, but you weren’t quite paying attention. You were practically captivated by the prince in close proximity, admiring him with little shame. Albedo’s features were borderline angelic. His hair rivaled the clouds that the gods resided amongst, and his eyes- oh my gods, his eyes- they took your breath away. Especially when he looked up into your own, his hands holding your injured one gently.

Neither of you looked away.

Albedo reached up and caressed his thumb across your cheekbone, murmuring a small “Don’t cry”. You felt chills erupt in his finger’s wake. You smiled.

“You made it all better.”

“I’m glad. I’ve never seen you hurt before, but after that I know I’d do everything in my power to never see you like that again.”

Your heart caught in your throat, and for the first time this week, you decided to be a little more serious about this whole love thing.

taglist: @xenia-cenia @murder-and-mistflowers @osmiumtrash @rebeljustforkicks137 @heisenwurst @writingmi @dilucs-thighs @wiseeggspickleslime @cotton—candy1709 @emerald-smile @luckymuddypaw @mercurysmaiden @Violeteyesofevergarden @darthsokaaa @aaaaalona @lehra @peepeles @hopeless-path @chaiteabeebee @murderisfantastic @janieatlanta @naritecs @a-cutiecatie @hanniejji @optimestick @trashy-mctrash @9ineine @akatherinque @spqcebun @milkxteaa @spooderkat @4everanimesimp @asheseiler @hnpriscilla @m0na-l0ver @welcometomypersonalhell098 @simplysm1le @lumi-ying @y2ndere @2-player-game @craptainlou @myheadcanonz @Piprapie @calicolaaaa @traveler-lumine @starrysurprise @anime-read-write-repeat @mercuryxx257 @kiitsumi @mochidabells @thefoxsleeps @josmottt @justrandomselfships

☆ bolded names cannot be tagged ☆

☆ fill out this form to be on the taglist ☆

#fic blog #x reader #fanfiction #writing #genshin impact #lay writes #genshin impact x reader #pick a prince #albedo #albedo x reader #albedo genshin impact #genshin albedo #event

386 notes · View notes

petalsofpoppys · 3 years

Photo

— SHE SHOOTS COLORS ALL AROUND LIKE A SUNSET GOING DOWN, HAVE YOU SEEN A LADY FAIRER?

( she’s a rainbow, the rolling stones )

•••

: : POPPY STEWART, 32 : :

( the bubbly biochemist, annie murphy )

•••

i. BASIC INFORMATION

» full name: poppy anne stewart

» nicknames: pops, “dr. p” by some of her close friends

» age: twenty-six (at the time of the snap), thirty-two (at the time of the blip)

» birthday: july sixteenth, nineteen-ninety-one

» birthplace: manhattan, ny, usa

» zodiac sign: cancer

» current residence: varies but primarily manhattan (upper east side), ny, usa

» gender: cis female

» occupation: currently, poppy works as a biochemist for oscorp laboratories. her research varies but primarily focuses on recombinant dna technology and genome editing. while obtaining her degree from new york university, she worked in the pathology laboratories at metro-general hospital. both her masters and doctoral program allowed her to travel to numerous international labs to work on a variety of projects. as such, she was able to lend her time and efforts to research facilities across all seven continents. most notably, poppy has worked with the lead scientists in wakanda and under dr. cho in both korea and at the new avengers facility before it was destroyed by thanos’s army.

ii. HEALTH

» physical health:

» scars:

» broken (any) bones:

iii. MENTAL HEALTH

» extrovert or introvert:

» logical or creative:

» optimist or pessimist:

» phobias / fears:

» problems:

iv. PERSONALITY

» goals / dreams:

» quirks / habits:

» likes:

» dislikes:

» flaws:

v. FAMILY

» parents: morrison stewart (father, fc: alan ruck), maureen stewart (mother, fc: laura dern)

» paternal grandparents:

» maternal grandparents:

» sibling(s): n/a.

» children: n/a.

vi. APPEARANCE

» height: five feet, seven inches

» weight: one hundred and thirty three pounds

» eyes: deep green with small golden flecks

» hair: medium champagne blonde with tanned blonde roots

» face and complexion:

» build:

» defining marks:

» dress style:

» faceclaim: annie murphy

vii. ROMANTIC & SEXUAL

» marital status: never been married.

» sexual preference:

» ever had sex:

» opinion on sex:

» opinion on relationships: one of the ways by which poppy asserts her autonomy is through dating. pressure from work can be immense so she enjoys the frivolity of flirting. always on the move, poppy rarely has the time to maintain a steady relationship. she never knows how long she’ll be in a given city or which lab she’ll be jetted off to next. for the most part, no one she has been with has been open to accompanying her on her spontaneous journey through life. poppy doesn’t blame them— it’s an exciting yet stressful way to live. instead of trying to find her “one, true love”, she involves herself in various short-lived flings to fulfill certain pleasures of the hopeless romantic that lives inside of her.

» turn ons:

» turn offs:

» past relationships: many of poppy’s romantic encounters have not advanced into a relationship but one of her more serious interactions was with [name] (fc:), an aerospace engineer, for whom she dated for close to two years.

» future relationship(s): poppy eventually ends up in a committed relationship with a member of her doctoral cohort, maxwell “max” stevens (fc: sam claflin).

viii. FRIENDSHIP

» big group of friends or several close friends:

» best friend:

» ever lied to a friend:

» the most horrible thing they did to a friend:

» list of friends:

; marguerite “maggie” hall ( former classmate & best friend / jenna louise coleman / @margueritehall )

; shuri ( close friend / letita wright )

; darcy lewis ( close friend / kat dennings )

; christine palmer ( close friend / rachel mcadams )

; stephen strange ( friend / benedict cumberbatch )

; jane foster ( friend / natalie portman )

; bruce banner ( friend / mark ruffalo )

; scott lang ( friend / paul rudd )

; steve rogers ( friend / chris evans )

; sam wilson ( friend / anthony mackie )

ix. MORALITY

» ever been drunk:

» lied to a significant other:

» cheated on significant other:

» gotten into a fight:

» deepest regret:

» religion:

x. ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

» instagram (as if they were living in the modern day):

» inspiration: honey lemon (big hero six)

» gifboard:

» people:

» playlist(s):

7 notes · View notes

hello-robin-goodfellow · 3 years

Text

TOP 12 FAVORITE IAN HOLM ROLES

@superkingofpriderock @amalthea9 @ohiwannatakeyouhome

DAVID PETERS (MOONLIGHT ON THE HIGHWAY, 1969)

A troubled young man, David Peters (Ian Holm), claims, "Once dreams were possible, that's what the popular songs told us." Rejecting rock music of the day, Peters is immersed in the tunes of Thirties crooner Al Bowlly (killed during the London blitz). He collects Bowlly memorabilia, publishes the Bowlly fan-club newsletter, and finds pleasure in lip-synching Bowlly records but his obsession with Bowlly masks certain darker events in his past.

DOCTOR ASTROV (UNCLE VANYA, 1991)

In this televised production of Anton Chekhov’s play, Sir Ian Holm plays a village medic who, at the start, is an idealist with great passion for the preservation of trees. But, as time passes, everyone ignores what he says and he falls in love with a married woman, the character of Doctor Astrov slowly grows more and more tired and disappointed with himself, the world and humanity, fallin in alcoholism.

POD CLOCK (THE BORROWERS AND RETURN OF THE BORROWERS, 1992-93)

I dare say that, despite being 61 years old at the time, this is the role in wich i felt Sir Ian Holm performed the most of phisical acting. Pod Clock is the patriarch of a family of people that are the size of little fingers, and to raise his family, he has to ride sinks, run away from cats and big birds and be carefull of mouse traps to borrow food and other needs. All the while trying to avoid being seen by humans. That’s what i call an action hero.

ASH (ALIEN, 1979)

The amoral android that made him a movie star. Do i need to say more?

CAPTAIN FLUELLEN (HENRY V, 1989)

In this Kenneth Branagh adaptation of the William Shakespeare historical play, we see Sir Ian Holm performance as Captain Fluellen, a man that is a geek of military tactics history as he is proud of being welsh. Fluellen has a fun energy that makes him likable, at the same time that he is intimidating in his ruthleness in support a cruel execution in the name of military discipline.

VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN/THE CREATURE (MISTERY AND IMAGINATION: FRANKENSTEIN, 1968)

Before Benedict Cumberbatch in theater, there was Sir Ian Holm portraying both Doctor Victor Frankenstein and his Creature in this televised 1968 adaptation of Mary Shelley’s famous gothic sci-fi novel. His portrayal of the two characters is one of the most closest to the book characterization’s to this day: Victor Frankenstein as an ambitious and self-absorved student, and the Creature as a person who tries to be good, but due to abandonment and discrimination suffered due to his phisical appearance, becomes corrupted with an obsession for revenge against his creator. And Sir Ian puts those foil personalities marvellously.

LENNY (THE HOMECOMING, 1973)

The Homecoming is a 1973 British-American drama film directed by Peter Hall based on the play of the same name by Harold Pinter.

In a dreary North London flat, the site of perpetual psychological warfare, a philosophy professor , Teddy, visits his family after a nine-year absence, and introduces his father, Max, his uncle, Sam, and two brothers, Lenny and Joey, to his wife Ruth.

Sir Ian Holm plays Lenny, a pimp who only makes discreet references to his "occupation" and his clientele and flats in the city (London). He is the character with the most cynical lines and who start the sexual tension between the man of the family with Ruth, not carrying at all if she is married to his brother Teddy.

There’s a character that anyone will love to hate.

PHILLIPE D'ARNOT (GREYSTOKE: THE LEGEND OF TARZAN, LORD OF THE APES, 1984)

A Belgian explorer who discovered Tarzan (John Clayton) in the jungle, taught him the way of man, and brought him to his family in England. Is Phillipe’s friendship with Tarzan and their eventual departure that becomes the emotional core of the picture.

LEWIS CARROLL (DREAMCHILD, 1985)

“Dreamchild” is a film written by screenwriter and playwright Dennis Potter. It was actually effectively a remake of an earlier project of his: the 1960s TV Play “Alice,” which had starred George Baker as Charles Dodgson, a.k.a Lewis Carroll – the man behind the “Alice” stories. But while “Alice” had been focused on Dodgson himself and his experiences with Alice Liddell (the little girl who inspired him to write the stories) and her family, “Dreamchild” takes a different approach. The 1985 film focuses instead on an elderly Alice Hargreaves (nee Liddell), who visits America to celebrate Dodgson’s centenary. During her stay, she has various nightmares, flashbacks, and hallucinations. Some of these have her seeing characters from the books, such as the Mock Turtle, the Mad Hatter, and the Caterpillar. Others are reflections on her childhood and the time she knew Lewis Carroll. Holm plays Carroll in these sequences, and the film plays with several myths and rumors about his relationship with Alice and her family…but it does so in a very clever way. Unlike the earlier TV play, which seems to treat these rumors and myths as fact, “Dreamchild” is far more ambiguous: nothing is confirmed or denied. It’s simply presented, and the audience is left to decide what is true, what is false, and how much it all really matters in the end. Holm brilliantly handles this ambiguity: in another actor’s hands, the character could have been perceived as thoroughly unsavory, but there’s such a gentleness, kindness, and overall innocence to Holm’s work that you can never really feel frightened or bothered. You feel for the man, no matter his flaws, and it makes his story just as compelling as Alice’s own.

RICHARD III (THE WARS OF THE ROSES, 1965)

The Wars of the Roses was a 1963 theatrical adaptation of William Shakespeare's first historical tetralogy (1 Henry VI, 2 Henry VI, 3 Henry VI and Richard III), which deals with the conflict between the House of Lancaster and the House of York over the throne of England, a conflict known as the Wars of the Roses. The plays were adapted by John Barton, and directed by Barton himself and Peter Hall at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre. The plays were adapted by John Barton, and directed by Barton himself and Peter Hall at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre. The production starred David Warner as Henry VI, Peggy Ashcroft as Margaret of Anjou, Donald Sinden as the Duke of York, Paul Hardwick as the Duke of Gloucester, Janet Suzman as Joan la Pucelle, Brewster Mason as the Earl of Warwick, Roy Dotrice as Edward IV, Susan Engel as Queen Elizabeth and Ian Holm as Richard III.The plays were heavily politicised, with Barton and Hall allowing numerous contemporaneous events of the early 1960s to inform their adaptation. The production was a huge critical and commercial success, and is generally regarded as revitalizing the reputation of the Henry VI plays in the modern theatre. Many critics feel The Wars of the Roses set a standard for future productions of the tetralogy which has yet to be surpassed. In 1965, the BBC adapted the plays for television. The broadcast was so successful that they were shown again, in a differently edited form, in 1966.

In this production, the major theme is how the dispute for the crown of king is an endless cycle of violence that traps people, and this theme is highlighted in Sir Ian Holm’s performance as Richard III. His portrayal is more humanized and tragic, showing he was first a loving son and brother, until the vision of his father’s death in battle and the mistakes that his older brother, Edward IV, makes at the start of his reign, motivates him to become king, no mather if it is even at the cost of his relatives lifes. At first, Richard looks like he is in control of the situation, but later, as the final battle comes close, frightened by the ghost of the people he killed, he has to confront the harsh truth: Richard is only another pawn in the game of chest of a bloody History. Just like every other king that camed before him.

PUCK (A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM, 1968)

Sir Ian Holm played the character of Puck, a.k.a Robin Goodfellow, in a 1968 feature film adaptation of the play. The feature was poorly received at the time, but has gained a bit more of a following in recent years, particularly from avid Shakespeareans. Its chiefest pro is probably the casting of Holm in the role of Puck: he’s quick-witted, curious, and just a little baudy, but with a sharp and slightly dangerous intensity to him. You’re never quite sure what to make of Puck, and that makes him interesting, as he leaps from scene to scene, spreading chaos everywhere he turns.

FRODO AND BILBO BAGGINS (THE LORD OF THE RINGS, 1981 AND 2001-03)

The most famous nephew and uncle in literature. He played the nephew in the radio in 1981, and the uncle in the feature films between 2001-03.

A lot of people were introduced to Sir Ian Holm’s work and becamed Lord of the Rings after being introduced to those performances.

In both roles, he was merry, he was funny, he was frightened, he was scary, he was brave and determined, he was sad. And all of us, listeners and viewers, related to those feelings transmited by his performances as Frodo and Bilbo.

Everyone has talked a lot about those performances, and everyone will probably will still be talking about them in the future.

#ian holm #sir ian holm #the wars of the roses 1965 #a midsummer night's dream #the homecoming #the borrowers #dreamchild #bbc radio the lord of the rings #the lord of the rings 1981 #greystoke the legend of tarzan lord of the apes #uncle vanya #moonlight on the highway #henry v #frankenstein #alien

18 notes · View notes

blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Next Caller Pt 29

You knew it might ripple around that you were working on both popular shows, you just hoped that none would try to spend much time delving into your life. For a time at least you planned to be mum in interviews if offered and just let your work speak for itself. Truly how much interest could people have in the voice over artists. Animators and writers, of which you were for both on the animated show, you knew there would be of some interest but easily overshadowed by the show itself. At best you guessed to be asked to a convention or something to greet the few people with questions or wishing possibly for an autograph for the ancient show.

Closing up your garage you took another tour of each room seeing it all come together and oddly in your storage room holding your blankets and such you couldn’t help but notice that it could make a nice at home recording studio. Already you had a mic and worked with a group of friends to edit the background sounds for your radio show years prior with just your laptop. Certainly with your now ample funds and spacious abode you could have a lovely setup for a sound studio easing things even if somehow another season of the show was called for. It would be grueling with your job at the hotel but you could make it work with Celebrian and her twin cousins who had helped you with the animation for the show before just rating to have another project to get back into.

Added to the mix of house sketches you roughly designed a layout for the larger of the two storage rooms knowing you’d probably never have that much to store. The dream of a possible studio taking hold and demanding to be sketched at least. Desks, shelves, cubbies and the actual recording section with the built in booth and stand in one corner. The lighting was fine for what you would need sticking to the simple installed lanterns along the walls and every surface could have more than one use to utilize the small space to whatever that could pop up. An early night in by the time you’d priced out what you might need through dinner was called for and you were ready to get started on the next show.

Breakfast came with a whoosh from your phone alerting you to the email that rolled you over in bed. Lifting your phone you read the notice of a deposit into the account for your trust you’d set up from your father’s clan funds. 20k now sat in your little black card attached solely to that account and sighing deeply you grumbled wondering what you were going to do with your money. Turning your head however your eyes shifted to your study and sitting up you went to fetch your laptop.

You could feel another writing burst coming up and eventually you would have to type something and until you bought a chair you couldn’t properly use your wonderful new desk. Fetching your laptop you turned it on and right to the bookmarked website you found the chair on, with a click you ordered it and in the aftermath you eyed the screen only to groan and rub your face when the receipt was emailed to you and that whoosh sounded from your phone. You weren’t going to go crazy or blow through it but you were determined to not let it be a noose around your neck and this chair arriving, surprisingly the following day, would be the start of accepting that you just had those funds to use if you so wished.

In shorts and a tank top chosen from the heat felt in your trip to your mailbox to check for yesterday’s mail that turned out to just be an odd flyer for boats on sale you brought inside and added to your shred pile of mail that Kuu loves to handle for you, fully entertained by the use and effects of a shredder. Surely the strips would be scattered through nests and eventually be worn away to nothing in time. A messy bun was called for and tucked under your helmet allowing the breeze to cool the back of your neck on the ride to the shop.

At the early hour and quick stop you parked on the street outside and hurried inside for your mug from Balin while the others were oddly missing. His rag from cleaning the mess formerly covering the counter left in its green mush coated glory for all to see. A quick wave later and you were heading for the door as he said, “Can’t wait to hear what Bunny is up for today.” Your soft giggle was all he heard and chuckling to himself hoping that was a good sign and not one for more grim news for her.

Barely moments after you had left Thorin entered through the back door with Dwalin helping to smooth the flannel across his back. “I’m sorry, I thought he liked peas! He usually eats them so gladly.”

Thorin fired back tucking in the front of his fresh undershirt in he had in his trunk for emergencies, “He ate them fine, he just neglected to swallow them and then sneezed the chewed mess all over me.”

Dwalin, “Surely he,”

“Oh I’m not mad at Frodo. Strictly involuntary I get that, my issue was my mouth was open and everything.”

Balin chuckled again and said, “We’ve all been there. Just be glad it was peas, been there with my pebble with naught but her own snot exploding at me.”

Thorin sighed and looked to the bill that Balin was adding to the register, “How could I have missed her I wasn’t gone three minutes?!”

Balin chuckled, “You left it on the burner, I couldn’t think of a good excuse to have her linger and possibly be late.”

Thorin huffed and turned to lift the rag he took to the sink in the back to scrub clean, “I’ll handle this then.”

Dwalin said, “If it helps he never sneezes on Frerin and Gran always said a baby sneeze near you means that you’re their favorite!”

From the back Thorin rumbled, “I am so flattered.”

The brothers chuckled and got to finishing readying the shop for their first customers hoping to be in for the first part of the show in their usual seats already showing up to cue outside.

A ringing phone was how the show opened and from there Wolsey informed Countess Beatrice that he had found Bunny. Over the span of a week gradual hints of waking were spotted by the staff, always when the guests were out of the room. Until with a hard slap sitting up out of sleep the King of Gondor held his cheek staring at the empty bed Bunny had backed then slid off of out of her dream falling onto the floor with a pained cry. Leaning over the bed towards the woman tangled in the iv and various tethers to monitors now going off that they were disconnected he peered at the panting frantic collapse of the nightmare lingering in her eyes she had escaped from then said in the race of the nurses into the room, “Miss Bunny, welcome to Gondor.”

“Up you get Deary,” one kind nurse said while she and another helped Bunny up into the bed again untangling the chords and reattaching the monitors once she was safely lounging again.

Looking at the King Bunny got the play back of all she had missed until the narrator came in ready to drop in on his savior and thank them with the pictures he had drawn of her distracting her fully until Beatrice and the others could be brought in to embrace their badly smarting little friend. Lingering across the wall however Durin was noted to be watching intently the same woman he came to see daily without any word traded past a soft whisper he would return again the next day leaving a single tiny pile of white flowers gathered through her rest in his strolls through the gardens on his daily walks.

Every Durin listening in could feel tingling on their arms recognizing what they hoped to be the twist in the tale they had ached for catching hints shows prior that she might be one of the mysterious brides of Durin, mainly one he married in his final two lifetimes. Tiny white flowers and barely a word spoken between them with only rumors of an innocent saved selflessly with nearly the cost of her life. Nearly a spotless Dwarf lineage till that unspeakably irresistible half Hobbit that mingled the sudden love of blooms into the great bloodline.

It was a slow episode without much to spur angst or drama to make the heart beat faster but the sheer emotion in it had people all but openly weeping in the clear showing of adoration and hinted hope for more from the great Dwarf King reborn. The execution of Holm and burning of his body came with a spine tingling speech from Wolsey to the troops looking on leaving people actually clapping proudly for the fictional speaker. All the way through your final three minute clip of cheers and chants from the soldiers allowing you to slip out to go to the bathroom real quick after missing your chance earlier. Returning just in time for your sign off music to gather your things already feeling yourself smirking imagining the reactions on people’s faces when Bunny would be back at the helm the following show.

“You are maddening.” With a giggle you pulled your buzzing phone from your pocket while Mal said, “I can’t even try to keep up with you.”

“Good. Ample twists and turns coming up.”

“Will Bunny at least talk next show?”

Lowly you said leaning in to whisper, “She’s opening it.”

Mal chuckled and patted your shoulder, “Finally, some good news.”

You giggled again and reached over stroking BamBam’s head in his nap, “Nice to know he’s enjoying the five hour naps my show grants him.”

“He is. His leg is getting better everyday and he keeps getting heavier.”

“No doubt, heavier than you soon enough.”

“How are your birds?”

“Good, Belly and Darling are still on their honeymoon and Roac seems to be in good spirits still by what Thorin mentioned yesterday.”

With a grin she said, “So I hear we’re heading to the zoo tomorrow?”

“Ah, you’ve been invited as well,”

“Guys asked me yesterday. I hope they have the bear cub exhibit open.” She said adjusting the carrier in her grip on your way down to the garage, “Dain’s coming out to watch BamBam again, they seem to like one another.”

“Well that’s good as they’re set to live the rest of their lives together.” Making her giggle again. “No hint yet on how things went with Dis?”

Softly her cheeks shifted pink and she said, “We ate food. Talked.”

“Hmm.” You said making her look you over, shaking your head when her lips parted you said, “It’s clearly a courting thing I’m not privy to.”

“Oh don’t be like that. It’s just, a clan thing, supposed to remain-,”

You patted her arm, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just take it as a good sign of things settling down.”

“Not close to settling down.” You glanced at her, “There’s stages, we’ve been welcomed but it’s still a while off before settling down, living together is beyond question for some time and even if we did want to elope that would be downright scandalous to be so quickly.” She drew in a quick breath then said, “Not that we aren’t serious, there are-,”

“Rules.”

She sighed out in reply, “Rules.”

Easing your hand over her back you said, “Be thankful you aren’t an Elf, some courting can take centuries to even be accepted.” Open mouthed she looked at you and you nodded, “It’s always best to meet in childhood and then families warm up over time by the time you are grown.”

“Centuries?!” You nodded again and she asked, “What about Thorin? You would wait centuries to even have dinner?”

“We’ve had dinner, several, and seen a film, been on vacation.”

“I mean as a couple.”

“I know what you meant, and if he did want a relationship with me he would just have to ask me himself in blunt terms, of which I am certain he could hardly accomplish easily. The one plus I assume of having Maiar blood. I can take as long or be as swift as I care to be.”

“Why don’t you just ask then?”

For a moment she caught a timid glance away from her, “I don’t like being wrong.”

Her hand settled on your arm, “He’s not leading you on, and you aren’t wrong. I know your ex lied to you terribly but that’s not what’s happening here.”

“It’s just, odd.”

Leaning in her head tapped the side of yours in a sigh, “Courting is odd. You know how Amad and Adad got together?”

You shook your head, “She fell off a patio and got her leg stuck in a flower pot, one of those deep ones and by the time his brother found him he’d gotten her leg free and she was halfway over his shoulder in lifting her out. Reputation demanded they were courting.” You looked at her and she nodded, “I fell off a ladder and they caught me, all you had to do was say ‘surprise me’ and he fell into your trap while pretending he was the one saving you.”

“Oh really?” You said stepping out of the lift with her beside you.

“Oh yes, stuck in his own slump after a poorly crumbled romance you just scooped him out of. Lit up his world you did.”

“It’s terribly romantic when you put it like that.” She nodded, “Terribly stuffed with fiction,” earning a playful glare from Mal making you giggle out, “But romantic all the same.”

“Go get some tea and make your damsel swoon.” Rolling your eyes you giggled in her mounting her scooter to ride off again. Finally looking at the phone in your palm you read the notice from your email that the first Bombadil deposit had been added to your account. Helmet added and you settled onto your own scooter, easing your leg over the dip under the handlebars the key was eased into the ignition and turned to start the scooter. 80 k post taxes was just sitting there and in your head you crossed off 40 to be switched to your savings account settled for each thousand deposited to be exchanged with a gold coin added to a vault deep in the treasury in the heart of Erebor. The single coin that had sat there for nearly a century waiting for company now had a tiny pile of friends to keep him entertained.

“Frodo exploded on me.” Once at the counter Thorin ignored the still whispering people filling the room speculating on future parts to the show.

“Top or bottom,” you asked and he wet his lips.

“Mouthful of peas sneezed at me.”

“Ah, been there. Few of my best shirts fell to my sisters when they were toddlers.”

“My mouth was open.”

“No,” he nodded and you couldn’t help but giggle offering the folded bill between your fingers.

His fingers wrapped around it just barely brushing yours and he said, “Yes, one cup coming up, settle in and don’t mind the gossip.”

Smirking to yourself you turned for your usual high table and stool you hopped up onto, settling your bag in your lap you brought out one of your sketching journals that had you finishing a sketch you had started the other day of a tapestry that Durin was fabled to have woven himself for his love. One of thirty possible designs you hadn’t decided on for the second book illustrations for the unfolding of his storyline. Perhaps one raven too many your head tilted and chin propped in your palm only to look up when Thorin settled two mugs down on your table. Rumbling lowly, “And just what have you got there?”

Turning the book around you said, “Brainstorming.”

A smirk ghosted across his lips and he all but hummed back, “A betrothal tapestry. Lovely, though you need anvils across the tops.” Your brows furrowed and leaned in while he reached over taking hold of your pen you released to let him sketch out the required elements and naming each. “Yours was very close. For the show I take it?”

You nodded and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have record of the real one somewhere? Would you?”

Barely above a whisper he replied, “Gran has an etching of it in mithril. Every marriage in our line has one, fully colored with gemstones.”

“Really?”

“Yes, though it’s meant to remain-,”

“In family,” your grin dropped and you looked down to take a picture of your mug only for his hand to lay over your free hand while you set down your phone to lift your mug.

“You, can see it.”

You shook your head after your sip, “It’s not you, something Mal mentioned.”

“Ah, if that has something to do with Dis or the boys it’s a step towards earning trust.”

“I get that.”

“It’s not all meant to be secretive, only with Dams to enter the family fold. Each clan has their own tradition and way of welcoming, phrases, rites of welcome that have to be crossed off. You were a spectacular buffer in the Festival, you are counted as an honorary Stonefoot, but until an engagement is settled in contract then it must remain between them.”

“It really is a culture difference, don’t mind me with four to choose from and to have had to memorize myself I have no right to pout on being on the outside of another.” Smirking in the retraction of his hand you lifted your mug.

“Four, which one would you follow then?”

“Whichever one I stumble into. Following where my feet decide, hasn’t steered me wrong yet.”

“No doubt.” He muttered keeping his eyes on you through his own sip and upon lowering his mug he asked, “What are you up to today?”

“Curtains. You?”

“I am helping Dwalin find a suitable stroller for Frodo and Billi.”

“Don’t they rent those?”

“Yes, but none good enough for our youngest pebbles.” Glancing around you eyed the still whispering tables, when he lowered his mug again he hummed out, “We wouldn’t happen to get to meet Durin’s wife, would we?”

“Anything is possible.”

“Have we already met her?” You gave a subtle shrug and he chuckled to himself, “Figures.”

A basic plan of which exhibits you might see in your trip to the zoo filled the rest of your stop. Until at the arrival of Bilbo to take Dwalin and Thorin shopping for strollers you joined them out to the parking lot and waved them goodbye as they piled into Dwalin’s car to drive off for their own shopping trip. In the back Thorin kept sight of you until you turned separate ways. Again at the fabric shop you followed the same steps you had followed when Thorin had brought you here. Into the bend of your arm you tucked each of the rolls of fabric you wanted that were longer than your body luring a pair of taller associated to come over and help you to the cutting table. A hefty stack of folded fabric was joined with colored thread to match and accenting buttons for the ties to hold back the curtains.

Home again you went and closing your garage behind you to stroll through your home hearing another awkward song from Belly while Dot was busy exploring her new home once again looking for extra details to add to her nest. Passing them you went to your storage room where you brought a teal trunk out to the living room to stand up on its side against the wall. Finding the bag with the curtain rods and loops you left by your couch.

Opening the split door on the top the two halves folded back revealing the cubies and shelves around the teal sewing desk you unfolded and settled your sewing machine on the end of. With projector on you listened to the show playing in the background while you got started on cutting the fabric. One section at a time you hemmed each end and stitched the fabric around the securing T shaped tabs for the loops you had bought. Pairing the curtains by destination you had the piles lined up then turned your gaze to the curtain rods once you had switched off your sewing machine.

“Belly?”

Your voice echoed through the house and curiously following it the raven found you atop a sideways turned trunk when you realized you still hadn’t bought a ladder yet. On the shelves by the door he landed and eyed the bar in your hand asking, “Yes Jackrabbit?”

“Is this even?” You asked with pencil in hand ready to mark where to secure the brackets.

Dangling from the doorframe Darling came to a stop curious what you were doing and Belly answered, “Yes, should it not be lower?”

Marking the one side with your arm outstretched holding the bar in place you pulled the pencil back and traded hold of each item to mark the other side of it. “No, the loops for the curtains are about two inches so to cover the window fully the bar has to be higher than the window frame.”

The peach curtains for your sisters’ room went in easily enough for their smaller window higher up on the wall than the other bedrooms but longer than the others. With screwdriver in hand you worked each securing bracket into place for one half of the window then opened the next kit to level that with the first. Fetching the curtains you brought them in now for the trio of Ravens to see you ease them onto their rods you lifted in your climb onto the trunk again to settle the bars in place. Grins eased onto their cheeks watching the finished product coming together as you eased them back to tie them back with your hand made straps secured by fake crystal coated star buttons.

Two trunks were needed to reach the nearly ceiling high level you wanted for your Naneth’s room. This one was easier to measure out once you laid the bar out on the windowsill seeing how much you had on either side of the window once it was centered. Still watching you once they had torn open the packs for you they flew up with the brackets and screws so you wouldn’t have to keep getting up and down easing the task greatly. Then when you lifted the curtain coated rod they helped to grip the rod holding the other end to ease it as a team into place. Using the pulley system on either end they helped you to ease the curtains open on the larger window with internal shades already built into the window just like the two smaller windows to the right of it you were leaving without the second set of curtains as they met on a corner.

The white orange accented bedroom was next with the white and grey striped curtains mounted nearly to the ceiling again. Two sets of double windows were covered easily on opposite ends of the same curved wall.

The blue/orange room proved more challenging with a small double window near the ceiling centered on one wall, up high next to the ceiling on the orange wall your blue and white curtains hung to the ground, easily secured by standing on the table you had assembled. Moving a trunk against the blue wall to the right of it you added a matching set up near the ceiling covering the double window. The other tan half of the wall had another high double window the third set was secured around reaching from floor to ceiling.

On your feet you nipped at your lip eyeing the final product bringing the rooms fuller into creation. To the living room again you went with your laptop settling onto the couch, first securing the transfer of half of your Bombadil funds to your savings adding forty more gold coins to your vault then switching to check the shipping on your office chair.

“Hey hey hey, it’s been a heck of a time but don’t you fret it’s just you and me your dear friend Bunny, devoted with my ear to the ground here to give you all the latest on those lovable Durin boys of ours.” Gasps rippled around only to fall silent as your voice rang out again spreading grins on the faces of the Durins listening in hoping to catch the next segment in their ancestor’s fictionalized past. They knew the truth from his journals and stories handed down through their line kept within the clan but they had to admit they loved hearing your version of it. “Out in the middle of who knows where in an impressively odd flying shark of all things I am currently tucked in a water closet hiding out from yet another person coming to tell me to get back to bed.” Grins spread at Bunny’s determination to be up and about. “But I’ve found this handy wheeled stool and as long as I don’t hit some steps I should be just peachy.”

At the sound of the door opening Wolsey could be heard saying, “There you are.” Then his groaning at your rolling past him.

Down the hall you rolled saying, “You’ll never catch me alive.”

Raul called out proudly, “Roll like the wind Bunny!”

Though Durin halted the game with her gasp in his playful rumble of, “I see we have two pirates aboard my ship.”

“Your point being, Shark King?”

“No point, just an order, back to bed.” Bunny groaned and he could be heard rolling her back to her room, “This is strictly a non fleeing floor.”

“No fun, at all. I can see why your lot is the least boisterous bunch I’ve seen in years.”

“That’s unfair, you haven’t even heard our music hours yet.”

“When would those be, half past unfun and never thirty?”

Awkwardly he chortled and rumbled back, “Funny, very funny. I will ensure you have a comfy seat right up front, at sunset, it stretches out to midnight.”

“For such rule sticklers you would assume there would be a bedtime you stuck to. No wonder you’re all scowling.” Again he chortled and the banter had the people listening in were melting at the moment they imagined to be their possible coupling. Only he was called away and Beatrice came in with her family around Bunny on her bed in the most comfortable room offered for guests.

Outside the booth you could see Ecthellion and Glorfindel. Mal had to hurry out to meet up with Dain so to their office you went taking a seat to go over all the details coming up in the plans for your book in the future. With confirmation of the stickers being in transit to be brought to the station this week you grinned readying the news in your head for the Durins to be told. Ecthellion said, “Now Gorgo is off next week and there is something planned for this weekend for her family so it would have to be next weekend possibly to handle the draft date. And all that is merely details the read through is just for how to rate the violence and such, they have accepted your book as is, it’s in writing as soon as it’s been rated the book etchings are off to print.”

Letting out a deep breath you replied, “So strange to be so close.”

The pair chuckled and Ecthellion handed you the check in an envelope he slid it into confirming the amount, “10.5k. Any plans for it yet?”

“Not sure yet, had a passing thought to maybe turn one of my storage rooms into an at home sound studio.”

Glorfindel, “That could be very useful, especially if weather were to turn sour or we needed to do repairs here. Or for ads, animated promos, we did leave it open for possible cartoon promotions for the novel, you record the voices do a little three minute skit.”

“I could do that. I’ll work on some things over next week.”

Ecthellion nodded through a grin at you, “Excellent, they will love that, really get the word out. Not to mention if they wanted to record an audio version of your novels or if the show did end up picking up ample amount of fire to possibly get another season. Not even mentioning the ideas Celebrian has had for shows you might join her on in the future.”

“I thought she was focusing on Arwen’s jumping lessons?”

Glorfindel chuckled, “You never know. Between that and the boys and their rock climbing ambitions she might need a getaway of her own.” Making you giggle on your way to the door slipping the envelope into your bag. Hugs were traded and they were off to meet with another possible group with new ideas for their time slot that was in great need for some fresh ideas.

Back down to your garage you had to admit to yourself it was useful that you’d already animated the novel and saved the audio on a hard drive. Back in one of your trunks had the box of animated original images you had drawn with the backup already being compiled into footage reels by Celebrian’s filming company that had promised to do so for you while you were waiting for interest in your story possibly even to self publish a sort of show or film series. The prospect now more possible than ever to come up with the radio spot and the impending book series.

Strapping your helmet on you straddled your bike feeling amply proud of yourself and your own patience through all of this. Even more than that your grump’s words about your achievements so far could only have you imagining how he would react to the news. Just hearing about the curtains could be enough to earn a grin from the serious Dwarf. For the short ride to the bank you remained focused on the ride over wondering how the zoo would go today. The marble building with a polished silver door coated with sword designs across the milky glass panels stood out in the shopping center.

Parked in the section for bikes you removed your helmet and crossed to the walkway heading inside, right up to the large doors that eased open in your approach allowing you in and a Hobbit on your left out. Flashing him a quick grin you continued on brushing your bangs out of your face feeling your long braid sliding across your back with each step you took. Large desks lined the vast hall and off to your left you walked to the counter coated in slips, with your wallet in hand you opened your wallet pulling out the card for your main account you swiped in the card reader then got to filling in the deposit slip. Once filled in you moved to one of the seats in the waiting lounge, from your bag you pulled out the envelope along with your journal you tried to keep busy looking through until the attendant came out saying, “Miss, Pear-?”

Grinning at the woman you stood seeing her eyes flinching from the handheld in her palm to you again with parted lips closing in a quick smile, “Pear is fine.”

Shifting on her feet she showed you back to her office that once she had you alone inside you could tell something was up with her creeping grin and continued stolen glances your way. “How can I help you today, Miss Pear?”

Handing her the deposit slip you pulled out the check that you signed the back of with a pen from your journal, “Just a check deposit over the two grand limit for the atm.”

Her grin split wider and she said, “Not a problem.” Easing through the process to scan the slip into the tabletop deposit system including the check after, you punched in your pin on the keypad aimed at you and she scanned her badge punching in her own authorization code. Again her grin flashed your way and she said, “Easy as pie.”

“Thank you.”

When you readied to stand she asked softly, “I just have one question, I am curious, you wouldn’t happen to be the same Miss Pear listed as working on the new show on Bombadil and the Bunny show?”

“Well, ya.”

“Could I get an autograph?”

“Uh, sure,” you said looking down to the slip of paper she slid to you and you signed a simple J Pear across it with the loop of the r making a pear shape around the name making her grin creep wider.

“Thank you so much! I am loving both shows.”

“Thank you.” Out again you followed her back to the main lobby and gave her a final goodbye and walked out to your scooter again while she giddily shared in whispers just who was just in the bank with her coworkers in the break room once she saw you were on your way out of the lot.

Pt 30

#Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr

15 notes · View notes

vastly-fixated-devotee-667 · 5 years

Text

all right i had this all typed out as an essay but because tumblr can’t automatically save a goddamned draft i’m going to take the lazy way out and just type the majority in lists.

disclaimer: it’s been a hot second since i’ve read the harry potter books so some of my information may be a bit off but i’ll try. i also don’t have all the information on hogwarts mystery because i’ve only gotten to chapter eleven of year five.

so something i love about hogwarts mystery is that it does what jk rowling failed to do in terms of diversity. correct me if i’m wrong, but there’s only four explicitly stated poc characters, all black, and maybe three others that can be deduced as non-white considering last names and all. (and when considering canonical movie appearances, i believe those seven are the only poc characters.)

dean thomas, black — described as being a tall black boy in the books. very little importance in the actual storyline. muggle-born boy who’s really only important because he is muggle-born and that’s the kind of people voldemort wants to get rid of.

angelina johnson, black — described as being a tall black girl in the books. no importance whatsoever. only mentioned because she’s a part of the quidditch team.

kingsley shacklebolt, black — described as being a tall black wizard in the books. biggest importance is probably because it was his patronus who warned the people at the wedding of the death eaters, and also because he assumed the position of minister of magic for a bit.

blaise zabini, black — described as being a tall black boy in the books. literally only mentioned because he occasionally hung out with draco.

cho chang, presumably asian — chinese in the movies, not confirmed in the books. deductibly chinese considering her last name, though that’s conflicting considering her first name is a traditional korean surname. her only real importance is being harry’s first love interest so he wouldnt end up marrying the girl he’s always loved, i guess; i dont know. also the one who a.) in the books, brought the friend who blabbed to umbridge to the da, or b.) in the movies, the one who blabbed to umbridge herself.

parvati and padma patil, presumably indian — indian in the movies, unconfirmed in the books. deductibly indian considering their last name. zero importance throughout the series, aside from when they were harry’s and ron’s dates to the yule ball (but even then, they only were because harry and ron were out of options).

in conclusion, jk rowling’s characters aren’t all white, true, but her non-white characters are either poorly written or have little importance. she had the potential to even cast poc actors as characters, but the majority were white. what all with her big hair, she even had the perfect set up for hermione being black — and with natural hair too! but alas (and don’t get me wrong; i love emma watson), a white actor was cast.

but then you simply have to open your friendships log in hogwarts mystery and there’s diversity all around!!! not even just in race, but religion too!!!

rowan khanna, presumably indian — definitely dark-skinned, deductibly indian from their last name. they’re one of the most main characters and plays the role of mc’s best friend. super smart kid who dreams of being a hogwarts professor! you go, you spunky little indian kid.

andre egwu, black — deductibly nigerian from his last name. not extremely important in the main story line, but plays bigger roles in side quests. and this man is a fashionable athlete! not only is he non-white, but he totally breaks gender roles too!

talbott winger, dark-skinned — it’s hard to tell specifically where his ancestors may be from but he’s for sure dark-skinned. he doesn’t play much of a role in the main storyline, buf he’s vvvv important in two different side quests. he’s also just a very well-written character and it makes me go aldhskehdjnd

jae kim, presumably korean — considering his last name, it’s quite likely he’s korean. he’s fairly important if you choose him to accompany you to knockturn alley. but he’s also important in the sense that he keeps mc company in detention.

badeea ali, presumably arabic — MUSLIM GIRL!!!!!! A HIJABI!!!!!!! AT HOGWARTS!!!!!!!! ALSHSKAJAK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! im pretty sure she plays a pretty important role later on in year five but i’m not 100% sure on what it is exactly (i at least try to avoid spoilers). but she’s an amazing artist!! her name even means creative!!! i love her

liz tuttle, black — like talbott, im not sure totally where specifically her ancestors are from, but she’s still black. and she’s absolutely incredible. she saves mc’s life when they have a run-in with a chimaera, for one thing. she’s also a vegan activist and i love her for it

diego caplan, presumably spanish? — judging by his first name, it’s likely he has spanish origins, but nevertheless he’s definitely not white. but on top of that, caplan is a jewish last name!! a jewish character, AND a muslim character. i’m in love.

angelica cole, black — gryffindor prefect. quite a bit important if you’re in gryffindor, less important but still so if you’re not in gryffindor and have to sneak into the common room.

madam villanelle, black — worker at flourish & blotts. gave mc information on jacob as well as mundungus fletcher. skilled linguist.

on top of all them, there’s also just a bunch of nameless extras who are non-white. not sure how many extras in harry potter were non-white, but i still thought i’d mention it.

so yeah, here’s my long-ass post that no one will read but ah well.

EDIT: i never actually posted this?? what a dumbass. but ive gotten a lot further in the game now; im just too lazy to fully edit

34 notes · View notes

mistymark · 5 years

Text

the one with all the spoilers.

part of the 50 things you said project // mark lee x reader // 4.2k words // university!au // strangers to lovers!au // masterlist // send in requests here

summary; things you said when we were the only ones left

warnings; drunk donghyuck, jeno and jaemin

request; this is for the 50 things you said works. I would like 31 with Mark, but could it be at the same roof party of that Renjun fic? I just thought it would be suuuuuper cute if oc was invited to Haechan's party and instead hanging out with Mark the entire night. Thank you!! 😘 (you can read the first fic here)

notes; I know it has been a loooonnnggg time since ive posted but ive been really trying to make this specific story as good as possible,,,, so I hope y’all like it. (sporadically edited)

You were late. You were so very late, and the bumper-to-bumper traffic was not helping. “Are we far away?” you asked the taxi driver, leaning forward in your seat only to see red brake lights and a long line of stopped vehicles in front of you.

“It might be faster to get out and walk, miss,” the driver informs you, leaning out his window to see what has caused such a delay on the normally-flowing road.

You thank the taxi driver and hand over the amount of money due, with a tip for his troubles, and run down the street, passing all the stopped cars in a blur. Without looking at what has caused the build up of traffic, you look down at your phone, hastily trying to figure out what street Donghyuck lives on now. You had previously been neighbours, for almost two years, but he had left a few months ago, opting to move in with one of his friends in a nicer apartment a few blocks down from you.

He’d sent you detailed instructions on how to get there from your workplace, knowing you’d get lost, but you were still unable to interpret his badly drawn Snapchat diagrams.

You eventually found the bakery he was referring to in his map, and turned left, walking towards some large apartment buildings. You figured you were in the right place and walked in, making your way up to his floor. When you arrived at the apartment, 6G, you couldnt hear any noise apart from the soft murmuring of two people talking and you hoped you weren’t too late and everyone had already gone home. You’d told Donghyuck you had work that day, and said you’ll be a bit late, but thirty minutes after your guaranteed time of arrival; you still hadn’t shown.

You knocked on the door. The murmurs stopped and you heard the door being unlocked, before being opened. Your eyes widened in shock at the boy before you, and you instantly looked down at your phone, suddenly unsure if you’d come to the right place as you took in the (rather attractive) boy’s appearance. He was dressed in flannel pyjama pants and a plain black tee, round glasses perched on his nose and a bowl of popcorn in his hand. He appeared to be the only one in the apartment. “Um, is this building 127 on 92nd?”

He smiled, “Yeah. Are you here for Hyuck’s birthday?” He turned around slightly, placing the bowl on a nearby table as you nodded shyly before opening the door wider to let you in. He made a gesture to his clothes, “Sorry, I thought everyone had already arrived.”

“Oh! Er, no problem,” you tried to smile back and hide the shame you were feeling, before asking where you should put your present.

He gestured to the dining table, where various presents had been stacked haphazardly on top of each other. When he caught a glimpse of the tag on your gift, his eyes widened in realisation, “You’re y/n! Hyuck said you were going to be late. I completely forgot.”

You laughed with him, stealing a glance at the TV behind him, which happened to be playing your favourite TV show. No wonder you thought you’d heard voices when you first arrived.

He gestured to the window beside you, ‘giving you directions’ to get to the roof where the rest of the party was being held.

“You’re not coming?” You asked, surprised.

He leant against the couch and patted the back fondly, “Nope, I’m staying here. Holding down the fort.”

“Just like Hyuck not to invite his own roommate to his party,” you grinned mischievously, not giving him the chance to dispute as you disappeared up the fire escape.

When you climbed over the edge and onto the roof, you sought out Donghyuck, as he was pretty much the only person you would know at this party. You’d met a few of his friends before while you were neighbours - Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun, specifically - but there were at least thirty people up here who you’d never even seen before.

You found Hyuck talking to two boys by the entryway, the latter both holding fireworks and with disappointed looks on their faces. He looked up as you approached, “Look who finally decided to show up!” Donghyuck patted the taller boy’s shoulder as he left and walked over to you, arms out for a hug.

You hugged him, laughing, “Don’t say it like you weren’t three hours late to my birthday.” He squeezed you in response.

“Have you seen Renjun, Jeno and Jaemin, yet? They’ll take care of you if you need it. I know you haven't met a lot of these people yet,” he smiled at you happily, his childish grin showing. He was evidently so happy and you couldnt help but smile back.

“I haven’t actually. I just arrived,” you said, glancing around. You saw Jeno and Jaemin playing drinking games in the dark with a few other people, and Renjun sitting down by the drinks table, alone.

You bid Hyuck goodbye as you walked towards Renjun, greeting him with a one-armed hug and grabbing a drink, before sitting down beside him on the stretched out lawn chair.

“It’s been ages since I last saw you,” he said, clinking his bottle against yours in a toast. “Have you been here the entire night?”

You sighed, “No, I just arrived twenty minutes ago. I had work and then traffic was bad and - it was a whole mess. I’m glad I came, though. I havent seen you and your dumb friends in ages.”

He laughed with you, recalling all the outrageous pranks and activities the 00 line had attempted whilst Hyuck lived next door to you. “I bet you don’t miss us,” he looked away, watching Jeno cheer for someone taking a shot and smiling.

“Believe it or not but you guys were better than the young married couple I live next to now,” you wrinkled your nose. “Let’s just say I try to take night shifts as often as possible.”

He cringed at your words and laughed, before looking up as Donghyuck approached, rather frantic, “Hey, y/n, could you duck downstairs and grab the case of beer in my bedroom? Mark will show you where it is.”

You stood up immediately, “Of course.” You turned to leave before turning back, “Um, quick question: who is Mark?”

Donghyuck had already rushed off, eyeing a stumbling partygoer by the drinks table worriedly. Renjun stayed sitting on the chair, lifting his beer up to his lips, “Mark’s Donghyuck’s roommate. The guy probably opened the door for you.”

You feel your eyebrows raise in realisation, and you’re suddenly embarrassed that you hadn't previously asked him his name, especially since you thought he was rather cute. “Oh,” you turn to leave. “Tell Hyuck I’ll be back in a second.”

You entered the apartment through the window, climbing in and attempting to not kick the flowerpot off the shelf beside it as you did. You landed nimbly on your feet and clapped your hands together, causing Mark to jump in his seat on the couch and turn around to you, “Oh God! You scared me.” You walked in the direction of the bedrooms, briefly checking which part of the show he was watching and he called out after you, “Hey! Bathroom is here!”

You stopped in the corridor, the doors to the two bedrooms on either side of you. You pointed to each one in turn, “I’m looking for Hyuck’s room. Which one?”

He didn’t bother turning around, his eyes glued to the screen, as he yelled, “Left!”

You searched Donghyuck’s room for the case of beer, before standing up with your hands on your hips, “Hey, Mark? Where’s the beer?”

“Closet!” His voice was muffled by a handful of food.

“It’s not here!” You shouted back, before mumbling under your breath, “Unless I’m blind.”

He leant back on the couch to better see where you were and his mouth fell open when he realised you were in the wrong room, his room. “Oh, um, y/n?”

“Yeah?” You poked your head around the door and leant against the wall, your cheek squishing against the doorframe. Mark’s lips quirked up a fraction at your pout.

“That’s... that’s my room. Hyuck’s is the other one.”

You immediately jumped back from the door, trying not to make eye contact as you shut the door and went into the bedroom opposite, “Oh, sorry. I thought you said left.” You attempted to hide your blush that was rising up your neck due to your embarrassment, wondering how how you could have been so stupid as to start going through a stranger’s bedroom.

“Right, yeah, sorry. My bad. Are you taking it up to the roof?” You heard him call from the couch, and you pulled your phone out to check the time.

You placed it on the bed and eyed the case again, “Yeah.”

You could hear him let out a laugh, “Good luck with that.”

Stumbling out of Hyuck’s bedroom, the case in hand, you glared at him, “Gee, thanks for your help.”

Mark smirked, “You’re welcome.” Smartass, you thought.

You made your way to the door, before turning around, quickly shouting before it closed behind you, “By the way, she dies in the next episode! He ends up marrying her best friend!”

As the door slams shut, from you pulling it with your foot, you hear him groan and shout behind you. Smirking to yourself, you make your way up the stairs.

Hyuck thanks you for bringing all the beer up and you smile, insisting it was no problem. You crack a cold one with the boys one open and look around the crowd, Donghyuck departing once again to talk to his guests.

You spot Jeno under one of the food tables, rummaging through boxes of supplies as Jaemin stands behind him, his posture slack and foot tapping against the ground in an attempt to appear casual. Jeno whoops in success and jumps up, a roll of duct tape in hand. You grin at them, knowing they’re up to no good but not wanting to spoil their fun.

You don't see Renjun anywhere, so you reach for your phone to check your messages, only to find the pocket you normally keep it in is empty. You pat yourself down, searching all your pockets for your phone, before realising you probably left it in Donghyuck’s room when you went to fetch more beer.

Climbing down the fire escape again, you enter Donghyuck’s apartment and make your way to his room, not bothering to greet Mark this time. He does a double take as he sees you walking, staring after you and hurriedly looking away as soon as you walk out of the bedroom, your hand sliding your phone into your pocket.

When you make your way back to the window, he refuses to take his eyes off the screen, “Hey, does she really die next episode?”

You turn around and watch the screen momentarily, making sure you got the right episode and weren't getting mixed up. When you don’t respond, Mark turns his head back a little. He watches you silently.

Your eyes snap down to his and you watch his eyebrows raise every so slightly, “Yeah, I’m sure. She goes to the wedding planner after they get engaged and-”

“They get engaged?!”

“Oh, yeah. It’s real cute. He’s all like ‘You’re so gorgeous will you do me a gosh darn favour and be my gosh darn wife’ and then she says ‘Oh YES I love you so passionately, my love is like a thousand burning stars!” He laughs as you lower and raise your voice to imitate the actors.

You quirk an eyebrow at him before turning around to leave, but he spins around in his seat, his arms coming to rest on top of the couch, “And then what happens?”

He’s staring at you so cutely, you can’t help but blush a little bit, “I - er... well, she says yes, obviously and then- OH WAIT NO THIS IS THE GOOD PART SHH!” You quickly run forward and snatch the remote from the arm of the couch, turning up the volume and staring at the TV with wide eyes.

You’re standing behind the couch now, subconsciously clutching the remote close to your chest as you watch the plot unravel on the screen, unaware of the fact that Mark is watching you.

When five minutes go by, and the credits are rolling, you start walking backwards towards the fire escape, your eyes on Mark, “I told you the engagement was lame. Next episode is the engagement party, I think, so enjoy that.”

“You don’t want to keep watching?” He asks, standing up with the empty chip bowl in his hand. “Hyuck won’t mind.”

You hesitate. You’d been here for less than an hour, and only spoken to Donghyuck briefly because he was so busy. And if you were being completely honest, you had jumped at the chance to help with the beer just because you didn’t have anything else to do. While you’d been chatting to Renjun, other people had come up and introduced themselves, but you either couldn’t remember their name or weren’t interested in talking to them again after your meagre conversation.

You bite the corner of your lip in thought, before nodding slowly, watching as he empties another packet of chips into the large bowl. “Sure. And I promise, no more spoilers.”

He grinned at your answer and then pouted mockingly before walking back over to the couch. It was only now that you realised how ill-fitting Donghyuck’s furniture was. When he had moved in with Mark, they had obviously kept whatever furniture they previously owned and put it in the new apartment, despite the fact that Mark’s modern, stark white dining table and chairs contrasted to Donghyuck’s old brown leather sofa and wooden table.

The three-seater couch sat opposite the TV, and you happily plopped yourself down on one side, Mark placing the bowl of chips between you two in offering. He pressed play on the remote.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but it was getting late, and you were at least another five episodes into the show. Mark had assured you Donghyuck told his drunken guests to leave via the stairwell rather than the fire escape (to prevent any injuries) so you were left virtually undisturbed. Two people (one who Mark addressed as Johnny) climbed in through the window and left, and you assumed the tall boy was taking the other home.

Renjun poked his head in the front door as he left to bid you a quick farewell and a ‘let’s catch up soon’, one arm around the much larger bodies of drunk Jaemin and Jeno. The party was still going on. When you slid your phone off the table, you noticed it was past midnight, and you were growing tired. You leant your head back and, when you looked over at Mark, your eyes slowly shutting, you realised he was already passed out on the couch.

It was sometime after three when Donghyuck stumbled into the apartment, carrying a box of decorations and trays. He had kicked the door open, dismissing the loud slam it made as it swung into the wall, and placed the box at the entrance of the apartment, before promptly disappearing into his room and face planting onto his bed.

The loud bang had disturbed your peaceful slumber, and your eyes began fluttering open, your mind screaming at you to go back to sleep. You could’ve gone back to sleep right there and then, bringing the pillow closer to your face but it was at that moment that you realised this was not a pillow, but was actually the soft black material of Mark’s shirt. Apparently, while you were sleeping, you had leant towards him slightly, your body weight causing you to lean diagonally towards Mark, who had shifted so that he was now with sleeping with one arm on the arm rest and one around you, sitting up slightly due to his previous sitting position.

His arm was wrapped around your shoulders, holding you to his stomach as you used him as a pillow, his legs outstretched and off the side of the couch. You attempted to move out of his hold, but he groaned, his other arm reaching down to hold you in place, “No. Stay.”

Suddenly, there was another loud bang as Donghyuck threw his bedroom door open in search of water and began making his way to the kitchen. The sudden noise made you jump in your half-asleep state, and you felt Mark stir as he blinked his eyes open, looking down at you in shock.

You were sure your face mirrored his, the surprise evident on your face.

You pushed yourself up and began gathering your things. It was at this point Donghyuck noticed you, “Oh, y/n! What a surprise! I’m so glad you came tonight, I had a wonderful time.” His eyes flickered to the couch as Mark sat up drearily, “Hey Ma- oh. My mistake. Forgive me. Have a good night.”

Donghyuck disappeared back into his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him and you sighed, “I’d better get going.”

“What? You’re exhausted and it’s 3:30am. As if I’m going to let you drive home at this hour,” Mark said, standing up and fixing up the cushions on the couch. His eyes were half closed as he brought the dirty bowl to the kitchen.

“I was going to walk, or Uber,” you said.

“That’s dumb; you could literally be murdered. And that’s impractical - what Ubers would be out at this hour?”

“Well, how do you suggest I get home then?” Maybe it was the tiredness, but his snarky smartass attitude was getting on your nerves again. He was acting the same way he had been when you’d come to collect the beer case.

“I’m saying you should stay here,” Mark’s voice changed, becoming softer, quieter.

“I shouldn’t-,” you immediately attempted to dismiss his kindness, but he argued back.

“It’s fine, you can sleep in my bed,” he watched your eyes widen and hid a smile as he glanced down at the floor. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Right, of course,” you said, eventually relenting and then helping him grab the last of the snacks from the couch.

He gestured towards his room, “Well, you know which one is mine. I have an early class tomorrow so I might not see you, but Donghyuck will be here so...” Mark set a pillow down, smirking at you, as he settled in on the couch, disappearing from view from where you stood behind it, “Sleep well.”

When you walked backed into Mark’s room, you couldnt help but notice how obviously Mark it was. When you were in it the first time, you hadn’t really been paying attention to it, focussing on finding the beer Hyuck had stashed. Now, you could fully appreciate the colours, the decorations, the organisation, everything that was completely Mark.

You noticed a spare blanket and pillow on his bed, and immediately pulled them into the living room, dropping them on Mark’s stomach before making your way back to his bedroom. You didn’t let yourself watch for his reaction.

The next morning, you woke up to Donghyuck lying across his couch, his hand clutching his head as he groaned in pain. He had shrieked when he first saw you walking out of Mark’s bedroom, thinking he was the only one home, and then almost cried because his own shout was so loud. You began to make him breakfast, but he insisted he couldn't eat and would wait until Mark came home from class, so you made yourself pancakes.

“Hey, can I get Mark’s number?” you asked casually, biting a piece of pancake.

Immediately, the younger boy sat bolt upright from the couch, his eyes wide in shock, “What?”

“Err... your roommate. Can I have his number?” You continued eating your breakfast, watching him closely.

“What do you want his number for?” Hyuck questioned, his elbow coming to rest on the back of the couch as he pressed his palm to his forehead.

“I wanted to thank him,” you said, straightening your back subconsciously at the subtle accusation in Donhyuck’s question. “I had a good time last night.”

“Ughhhh, y/n! I don’t want to hear that!”

“What? Oh, God, no. Donghyuck, no! Gross,” you turned back to face your plate, avoiding the boy’s gaze.

He sighed, dropping dramatically back onto the couch, “Fine, whatever. Grab me my phone, then. It’s on the bench over there, I think.”

“Uhh, what happened to it?” The phone screen was smashed beyond repair, and the phone was bent slightly in half. The forward-facing camera was dislodged, and the buttons were stiff, as if, when pressed, nothing would happen. When you pointed this fact out to Donghyuck, he groaned and threw it at the wall, ignoring the shattering sound of the glass screen as he flopped backwards onto the couch.

“Mark will know,” he mumbled into a pillow.

“Well, thanks for letting me stay last night. I’ll see you soon, okay?” You began to put on your coat as you searched for your handbag in the messy apartment.

The door swung open and Mark walked in, and you had to remind yourself to keep breathing. He was dressed casually in blue jeans and a plain white tee, with a dark bomber jacket to compliment the outfit. He wasn’t wearing glasses today, and you were unsure whether he looked better or worse without them.

He hung up his jacket on the rack, briefly glancing at both you and Hyuck as he did, “Oh! Y/n! I didn’t think you’d be here when I got back.” He shot you a grin, but you missed it as you finally grabbed your bag and slung it over you shoulder.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m heading off now. Thanks for letting me stay the night,” you walked past him to the door, sending him a small smile before yelling at Haechan just to frustrate him in his hungover state.

You left, and walked down the stairs of the building, berating yourself for not asking Mark for his number. The guy was easily the most attractive person you’d ever seen, and you liked the same TV shows. What you were thinking was: you’re basically soulmates.

With newfound determination, you spun on your heel and marched back to the apartment door, convincing yourself you were confident enough to get the boy’s number. You breathed deeply, before raising your hand to knock.

Before your hand could make contact with the wood, the door swung open, and suddenly a body slammed rather strongly into you. You didn’t need to look up to know it was Mark, you recognised his scent, and his voice when he began apologising.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” His hands gripped your waist as he simultaneously tried to hold you up and push you out of his way gently.

“No, no, it’s-”

Finally, his brain seemed to have caught up to the situation. “Hey,” he breathed.

“Hi,” you smiled up at him. One arm was still wrapped securely around your waist, holding you flush against his body.

His eyes awkwardly flittered elsewhere, focussing on anything and everything as long as it wasn’t your face, “I, uh, was trying to catch you.”

You looked at your hand that was placed on his chest, “Well, here I am.” There was a lengthy pause. “What’s up?”

He cocked his head to the side, before pulling you up and slightly stepping back, clearing his throat, “Wait. What are you doing here? Did you forget something?”

You glanced at your feet, suddenly insecure that he had just let you go whilst you were here trying to confess your feelings. “I... No. I actually came back to ask you for your number.”

His face lit up at your words, a large, happy smile stretching across his face as he suddenly reached into his pocket, producing a small square of paper, “I was going to catch you and give you this.”

You raised an eyebrow at it before plucking it from his fingers and opening the note. The words ‘call me’ were printed above his phone number, and below, a message:

spoiler alert! we go on a date :)

You laughed at his reference to the night before, during which you had spoiled many episode endings.

“Well? Is that a yes? I can’t tell,” he asked, stepping forward a little.

“Definitely,” you smiled, reaching your arms up to wrap around his neck as your faces drew closer, and closer, and closer, and-

“MARK, CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE ME A QUESADILLA?” Donghyuck’s voice interrupted what was almost a kiss, and Mark giggled, resting his forehead against yours.

“We’ll continue this later.” Then he stepped back, gave your hand a squeeze and shut the door of his apartment.

there u have it kiddos!!! my first post in like two months lol (sorry, love u)

#nct #nct 127 #nct 2018 #nct dream #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct writing #nct fanfic #nct texts #nct 127 imagines #nct dream imagines #mark lee #nct mark #lee mark #mark x reader #mark lee x reader #mark fluff #nct mark fluff #nct fluff

591 notes · View notes

all-hail-the-witcher · 6 years

Note

88 ralbert angst that could include one dying?

I think the prompt was “this isn’t goodbye”

hold onto your hats y’all this ones a ride

__________

ship: ralbert

genre: angst

warnings: fhakalandha alberts a marine, severe injury, hospitals, race is a mess, unconsciousness, tears, lots of tears

word count: 3175

editing: a lil bit

__________

Race hug up the phone and placed his head in his hands. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. His mind drifted back to the last time he had seen Albert, about six months ago when he had been leaving for deployment. Race had been a mess, even after years of Albert being in the Marines he always lost it right before he left. There was so much that could go wrong. And what did Albert say to him every time before he boarded the plane?

“I’ll be back, babe. This isn’t goodbye.”

Race fumbled with his phone, punching in several wrong numbers before finally dialing the right one.

“Hey, Racer,” Spots voice came through the line.

Race opened his mouth to say hi, but no words came out.

“Race?” Spot asked after a few seconds of silence. “Is everything okay?”

“I-I got a call,” Race whispered. “Its Albie.”

“Shit. Okay, okay,” Race heard him grabbing his keys. “I’m headed over right now, do you want me to stay on?”

“Yes,” Race squeaked.

“Okay, is he alive?” Spot asked. Race could hear his intake of breath. Spot was also a Marine, he was just home on leave right now. He had seen firsthand what could happen to people and had lost a few friends over the years.

“Y-yes? I-I think so? It wasn’t really clear….” Race flopped back onto the couch, forcing down his tears.

“What do you mean it wasn’t clear? Tell me exactly what they told you.” Spots voice was gentle and it calmed Race down slightly.

“They said there was a mission, and he was injured on it. They didn’t say how bad,” Race took a deep breath. “They’re bringing him back to the states. Should arrive late tonight.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Race,” Spot said carefully, “if they’re bringing him back he’s probably hurt real bad.”

“I know,” Race said quietly. “They said they had him at the military base hospital for a few hours and now they’re sending him back.” Race’s voice hitched.

“Hey hey, it’s gonna be okay, alright?” Spot said quickly. “Albert’s tough. He’ll make it.”

“I know, I know,” Race squeezed his eyes shut. “But what if he’s not? We’re supposed to get married, Spot. I don’t wanna marry anyone else.” Subconsciously, Race rubbed his fingers against his engagement ring.

“I know buddy,” Spot said. “Can you let me in?”

“Yeah.” Race disconnected the call and walked to the door of his apartment, opened it and all but fell into Spots arms.

Spot gripped him tightly and let Races tears soak through his shirt. “It’s gonna be okay,” Spot whispered pulling race closer to his chest.

Race nodded into Spots chest as he tried in vain to stop his tears. “He’s too young to die, Spottie. I need him,” he hiccuped.

“If he’s survived as many missions as he has, he can survive this one, I’m sure of it,” Spot soothed. “He would never leave you without saying goodbye.”

This brought a fresh wave of tears to Race’s eyes as Spot looped his arm around his waist, guiding him over to the couch.

“They’re going to call you when he’s back on American soil, right?” Spot asked and Race gave a weak nod. “Is there anything you want to do between now and then?”

“I don’t know,” Race mumbled. He didn’t feel like doing much of anything, not when his fiancée was half a world away and terribly injured.

“Have you eaten anything recently?”

Race shook his head. It was coming up on dinner time, and all he had had that day was a piece of toast and a bowl of chips.

“Okay, I’m gonna order some Chinese food, and we’re gonna watch some bad tv, got it?” Spot didn’t wait for Races answer as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to place the order.

Race pulled his knees into his chest and twisted his ring nervously. Albert would be fine, wouldn’t he?

•••

It was nearly 2 am by the time Spot lead Race through the doors of the military hospital. The pit that was forming in Races stomach was getting larger by the second. Albert was so close to him, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see him. But he had to be strong and push through it, for Albert.

“Race,” Spot said, snapping his fingers in front of Races face, causing him to jump. He looked a little worried. Apparently he had found out information about Albert. Race’s stomach tightened even more. “Let’s go sit down, okay?”

Race let Spot guide him over to one of the waiting room chairs. As soon as he was seated he spoke up. “Is he alive?”

“Yes,” Spot said and Race let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “He’s alive. They’re not quite sure if he’s gonna make it though. He’s been through a lot and he hasn’t woken up yet.”

Race took in a shaky breath and fiddled with his ring. “What happened?” he whispered.

Spot took a deep breath. “Well, most of it’s classified. But, he was apparently scouting somewhere with a few others when they got ambushed. He got shot in the knee. And then there was an explosion.”

Race buried his head in his hands. This couldn’t be happening.

“The force of the explosion knocked him back pretty hard,” Spot explained, placing a reassuring hand on Races leg. “He’s got 8 broken ribs and some internal bleeding plus some damage to his lungs. Three major shrapnel wounds from the explosion in his left forearm, hip and side plus dozens of smaller ones on his arms, chest and face, some of which got infected. He has some temporary hearing loss from the explosion in his left ear. And,” Spot took a deep breath, “they had to amputate his left leg above the knee. There was too much damage and he wasn’t going to be able to use it again so they made the executive decision.”

Race’s eyes swam with tears and he threw his arms around Spots neck. Spot held Race in a comforting embrace until the tears stopped.

“Can I see him?” Race asked hoarsely.

“Yeah, they said that’s okay,” Spot said, pulling Race up after him and beginning to walk through the maze of hospital rooms. Vaguely Race wondered why he knew the way until he realized that Albert was probably not the only person he had visited here.

Spot paused outside of door 314. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

Race stared at the door intensely, trying to prepare himself for what was on the other side. He forced himself to take a deep breath. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“Alright, I’m going to go find a doctor and talk to them more about his condition, okay?” Spot said, clapping Race on the shoulder.

“Okay,” Race said.

“You call me if you need me. And Race,” Spots voice grew quiet. “You should say goodbye. Just in case.”

Race felt his eyes water and he nodded before twisting the knob and stepping inside. He shut the door behind him and froze in place.

Albert, his beautiful Albert, was laying on the bed. The most glaring thing was the awkward space under the covers where his left leg should have been. His entire chest was wrapped in layer upon layer of thick white bandages as was his left forearm. Dime sized shrapnel wounds littered his exposed arms and shoulders and there was one on his cheek, chin and jawline. There was an IV and a blood transfusion line in his right hand. The oxygen mask he was wearing made him seem small and frail, accentuating his shallow breaths, which would hitch every now and then. There was a feeding tube going into his nose. Next to his bed, a heart rate monitor beeped every few seconds.

Somehow Race found himself standing right next to Albert’s bedside. His feet must have brought him over by themselves. He dragged one of the plastic chairs from the side of the room to the edge of the bed.

“Hi Albie,” he whispered tearfully, pushing his messy hair out of his face. “It’s good to finally see you again, although I wish it was under different circumstances.”

What had Spot told him to do? Oh right, say goodbye. The very thought of doing such a thing absolutely gutted Race. They were supposed to spend the rest of their lives together. They were supposed to get married. It wasn’t supposed to end this way.

No. Screw that. Race didn’t need anyone to marry them. He could do it himself. There was no way he was letting Albert die before he put a ring on his finger. Hesitantly, he removed his engagement ring, fingering the smooth silver band while talked.

“So, Spot said I should say goodbye to you, just incase, cause, well, we’re not really sure if you’re going to make it.” Race bushed away his tears. “And I know it isn’t at all how we wanted it, but I am marrying you before you die, whether it’s official or not.”

Race gently lifted Albert’s left hand. “Albert Dasilva,” he whispered tearfully “I take you to be my lawfully wedded dumbass of a husband, even though you're stupid and really cute and an idiot. I'll be with you through even more shit than we've already been through, since we've already been through sickness and health and...this. I love you so much, I don’t even know what to compare it to. I just- I need you and please don’t die on me please. Who am I going to be stupid with if you’re not here? Just hold on for me, please?”

Tears dripped onto Albert’s bandages as Race carefully slid his ring onto Albert’s ring finger. Then he pressed a long kiss to Albert’s forehead.

“Don’t go, Albie,” Race pleaded. “This can't be goodbye.”

•••

It had been a week of Albert being in the hospital. Race had been home exactly three times to shower and sleep. Albert was doing a little bit better. He had been in and out of surgery for his leg and ribs the last few days, but he had a good chance of making it provided he woke up soon. The doctors said there wasn’t anything else they could do for him. He had been through so much trauma that his body and mind just needed time.

Race had been there the whole time, only leaving his side when absolutely necessary. And his ring remained on Albert’s finger. Race had decided that he liked the way it looked on him and couldn’t wait until they could get married for real.

But in order for them to do that Albert had to wake up first.

Race had his hand loosely intertwined with Albert’s and was tracing light patterns around his healing shrapnel wounds when Albert finally stirred.

A soft groan escaped his lips and Race’s head shot upright, his heart beating a mile a minute. “Albie?”

Albert’s eyes began to flutter and he took in a sharp breath, which was accentuated by the rattling of the oxygen through his cannula. There was another pained groan.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Race reassured, thumbing Albert’s cheek lightly. “Take your time, babe.”

Albert’s head rolled toward Race and he could see his eyes moving back and forth beneath his eyelids. His facial features scrunched slightly and he made a sound of discontent.

Race gently squeezed his hand and almost sobbed in relief when Albert’s fingers twitched beneath his. “That’s it babe, I got you. There’s no need to rush.” I’ve waited this long, I can wait a few more minutes.

Albert let out what sounded like a painful cough, and winced slightly. His eyelids fluttered some more and Race could see that he was trying desperately to open them.

“��ace?”

Race’s eyes began to water at the sound of his fiancées faint and broken voice.

“Yes Albie, I’m right here. I got you, don't worry,” Race soothed in the most calming, steady voice he could muster.

“‘ace?” Albert asked again, finally pushing open his eyes. “You shouldn’ be ‘ere. Why are you….” He looked around as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. “Where am I? The las’ thing I rem’ber is that explosion an’ then….” He looked up at Race again. “Am I dead?”

“No babe, you’re not dead,” Race smiled. “But try not to talk so much okay? You’re hurt real bad and I don’t want you to make it worse.”

Albert nodded.

“You’re back in the states,” Race explained slowly. “There was some kind of mission and you got really hurt and they had to fly you home. You’ve been here for a week now. You- you almost died Albie. I said goodbye to you and everything. You almost died.” Race forced down his tears, Albert didn’t need to see him crying, not now.

“Hey,” Albert whispered, looking up at Race, “it won’t happen again.”

Race let out a loud groan and a shadow of a smile tugged at Albert’s lips.

“You're such an idiot,” Race moaned, playfully slapping Albert on the arm. Unluckily for him it was the one with the massive shrapnel wound.

Albert let out a loud yelp of pain. His eyes flew shut and his breathing came in short rapid bursts.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so so sorry,” Race apologized. What was he supposed to do? Did he call for a nurse? Did he try to comfort him? “Do you want me to get a nurse?”

“No,” Albert choked out, wincing slightly as he opened his eyes again. “I’ve been through worse.”

“I know babe,” Race sighed, gently touching his face, “but that doesn’t matter right now. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Albert reassured him. “But you know what would make it better?”

“What babe?” Race asked, gently pulling his fingers through Albert’s knotted hair.

“A kiss.”

Race rolled his eyes and planted a quick kiss to Albert’s forehead. Albert whined with dissatisfaction.

“No, a real one,” he complained. “I haven’t seen you in over half a year, I want a real kiss.”

“Fiiiine,” Race said with fake annoyance. He had been wanting to kiss Albert since the moment he saw him again, but he held back, wanting him to be conscious for that event.

The kiss wasn’t their most romantic or graceful. Race had to be careful not to knock Albert’s cannula or his feeding tube. Albert couldn’t exactly move, which made for an awkward angle, but they made it work. Their lips pressed gently together and Race felt Albert sigh with content. Albert eventually broke the kiss because his lungs couldn’t handle one of their usual makeout sessions at the moment. Race pressed their foreheads together.

“I missed you,” Race whispered, staring into Albert’s warm brown eyes.

“I missed you too.” Albert reached up his uninjured arm to stroke Race’s hair.

“I was so scared that I lost you,” Race continued. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever had to experience, please don’t do that again.”

“Well, now I physically can’t so…” Albert winked at him.

“AL!” Race jumped back, glaring at his fiancée. “That’s not funny!”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Albert said quickly. “It’s just, I don’t really know how to deal with all this. I know this must have been hard on you. I’m sorry.”

“Hard on me?” Race asked in disbelief, gently holding his hand. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine, I’ll heal,” Albert said, waving him off. “You almost had to watch me die. That’s gonna stay with you forever.”

“Yeah, but you're the one who lost your leg,” Race blurted without thinking.

Albert’s facial expression darkened and he waited a few seconds before responding. “....what?” he whispered.

Race took Albert’s hand in both of his. “You got shot in the knee,” he explained slowly. “There was too much damage and infection. Albie, they-” he paused looking away from Albert’s confused expression. “They had to amputate your left leg.”

Albert was quiet for several long moments, processing what he had just found out.

“Are you okay baby?” Race asked after almost a minute of silence. “I know that was a lot to take in. It’s okay to be upset or sad. The doctors said that’s normal.”

Albert shook his head slightly. “Well, at least you’ll have more closet space now since I’ll be throwing out all my left shoes.”

Race couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Oh my god.” He placed his head in his hands in frustration. Leave it to Albert to find a way to make light of this situation.

“Antonio,” Albert said unsteadily, and Race’s head shot up. Albert only called him that when something was wrong.

“What is it babe? Is something wrong? Do you want me to grab someone?” Race stared at Albert’s sad face with alarm. He didn’t seem to be in pain, but then again, Albert was exceptionally good at hiding things. Race was halfway out of his chair when Albert spoke up again in a voice so soft and broken he barely heard it.

“Where’s your ring?”

Race paused, sitting back in his chair, his right hand subconsciously rubbing his empty ring finger. “I-”

“No, I get it,” Albert’s voice hardened. “You don’t want to marry someone like me. I’ll just be an inconvenience to you. You didn’t need to stick around. You could have just left when you found out I was going to be disabled.”

“What?” Race asked, confusion clouding his face. “No. I still want to marry you. It doesn’t matter what you look like or what your condition is. I will always want you. This last week has been hell, not knowing if you were going to survive or not. I never want to experience something like that again.”

Albert opened his mouth, but Race cut him off. “My ring is on your finger,” he whispered, trying in vain to force down his tears as he lifted Albert’s left hand so he could see. “I thought you were going to die, and I wasn’t about to let that happened before I got the chance to marry you. So I used my ring, said some tearful half assed vows, and put it on your finger.”

“Tonio…” Albert whispered, tears pricking in his eyes. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Race shrugged. “It was pretty sad, actually. I’m pretty sure I was sobbing. I think I called you an idiot.”

“How dare you?” Albert exclaimed with mock horror. “After all I’ve been through?”

Race let out a watery laugh, leaning down to press his lips to Albert’s again. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

Albert smiled. “Me neither, but it might have to get postponed, since I want to actually be able to walk down the aisle.”

Race grinned. “I wouldn’t want anything else.”

__________

oooooooof alright shoutout to fizz for coming up with all of Albert’s injuries, just remember y’all she decided what happened to Finch, this is what you’re dealing with

also did you really think I was gonna kill him ?? c’monnnnn

anyway that was a ride

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

tag list@fairly-awkward-trashcan@well-the-kids-do-too@racetrackcook@bouncyscreamingnewsboys

@ughwaitwhat@aw-jus-let-em-try@ben-cook-can-cook@the-woild-is-my-what-now@elmer-s-s0cks@voice-foundshoe-lost@galaxy-trees13@stopthe-presses@ridin-in-style@pinecovewoods@imjusttheoutgoingsidekick@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

@bencookisagod@be-more-chill-evan-hansen@hellasoulless@stellar-alpaca@saxoph-ella@smolcanadiankid@disney-princess-sized@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog@insane-tomato@so-up-rolls-a-riot-van@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn@have-we-got-news-for-you@thatfancyclam@myidkwhatmynameisblog@legoflambwrites

@that-one-newskid

@not-a-scab

#saphie scribbles #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #oof #I hurt these bois too much #thanks for the help fizz #newsies #newsies fic #also there were italics but I got lazy and didn’t put them in

110 notes · View notes

the-busy-ghost · 6 years

Photo

History Edits: Mary of Guelders, Queen of Scots

Born on 17th January 1433 in Grave, now in the Dutch province of Noord-Brabant, Mary of Guelders was the eldest of the surviving children of Arnold, Duke of Guelders (an area roughly approximating to modern-day Gelderland, but larger) and Catherine of Cleves. She was also the great-niece of Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, and it was due to this connection that in the duke arranged for her to be raised in the household of his wife Isabel of Portugal in 1442. The fifteenth century court of Burgundy was one of the most glittering and influential courts in western Europe and Mary would not only have been schooled in etiquette and courtly behaviour, but she would also have seen the formidable Duchess Isabel in action. It also appears to have been due to these Burgundian links that she was married to James II of Scotland in 1449, though the duchess and many other members of the Burgundian court wept when Mary departed from Bruges. The sumptuous wedding feast was thoroughly chronicled by Mathieu d’Escouchy, who attended along with several other notable figures from France and the Low Countries. Mary’s impressive dowry was provided by her great-uncle Philip the Good- who had no daughters of his own so used other female relatives to forge alliances- but it also came with the stipulation that she be kept in the style she was accustomed to, and soon enough Mary became a very rich woman- though sometimes indirectly as a result of her husband’s forfeitures of major nobles. Aside from her dowry, Mary’s marriage to James II was probably the reason why the great bombard Mons Meg- one of the largest cannons of its kind in history- was given to the king of Scots by Philip the Good. Scotland’s relationship with the Low Countries had always been important but Mary of Guelders’ marriage not only helped to bolster trade between the two, but also strengthened diplomatic relations with the dukes of Burgundy, as well as her homeland of Guelders. In later years, her second son Alexander, Duke of Albany, was to raised at his grandfather’s court of Guelders, and the family connections which the marriages of Mary and her husband’s sisters forged between the Stewarts and continental dynasties opened up important artistic and political channels for several generations after her death, not least during the reign of her son.

In her eleven years as queen consort Mary gave birth to upwards of seven children, five of whom lived to adulthood- Mary, Countess of Arran; the future James III; Alexander, Duke of Albany; John, Earl of Mar; and Lady Margaret Stewart. Her marriage was cut short suddenly in 1460, however, when one of her husband’s cannon exploded when he was standing nearby, and James died from blood loss soon after. At the time of his death he had been besieging Roxburgh Castle, formerly one of the most important castles in Scotland but which had been in English hands for around a century, and popular tradition has it that it was Mary who personally spurred on her husband’s troops to finish the job and take the castle, after which Roxburgh was razed to the ground and never rebuilt. She then acted as a regent (loosely) to her young son James III. While traditionally it was claimed that Mary was unstable and showed no aptitude for government, busying herself with taking a string of lovers instead, in more recent years these rumours- which were mostly the product of the political rivalries of James III’s minority- have been largely dispelled and her considerable political acumen and impact has been more widely acknowledged. In particular her foreign policy- previously thought of as ‘wayward’- actually seems to have been very intelligent, particularly when Mary protected Scotland’s interests during the civil war which was then disrupting Scotland’s neighbour England (i.e. the Wars of the Roses), and while she cautiously lent support to certain factions, she made sure not to overplay her hand and never inclined too much towards one party, in case it should endanger Scotland’s position. She did however on more than one occasion harbour the Lancastrian queen Margaret of Anjou, along with her husband Henry VI and young son, in Scotland. In 1461 a conference was held between the queens of Scotland and England at Lincluden, whereby it was agreed that the Scots would provide troops and support to the House of Lancaster, while Berwick-upon-Tweed would be returned to Scotland and Mary’s eldest daughter and namesake Mary Stewart would marry Margaret’s son, Edward Prince of Wales. This marriage never took place however, and Mary was eventually persuaded by her Burgundian relatives to drop the Lancastrian alliance, though she also rejected the marriage which was briefly proposed between herself and the Yorkist king Edward IV of England.

Mary also made an impact on domestic life in Scotland in several different ways. She has acquired a reputation as a builder, and her most notable projects included a new castle at Ravenscraig in Fife, which was the first castle in Scotland specifically built to withstand artillery fire, and also Trinity Collegiate Church in Edinburgh. This last project also displays Mary’s spiritual patronage (she was also later credited with having introduced the Observant Franciscans to Scotland) as well as her interest in music, and among other things she provided organs for the church’s use and stipulated that all the clerics were to be able to sing in matins.

Mary was eventually buried in Trinity Kirk when she died prematurely in December 1463, a month short of her 31st birthday, having been ill for some time. The kirk was eventually bulldozed to make way for Waverley Station, and it is unclear whether it was actually Mary’s body that was moved to Holyrood Abbey at this time or another unknown woman. In the fifteenth century however, she was mourned both in her homeland of Guelders and in Scotland. Mary had only been at the head of government for three years but in that time proved herself a capable administrator and strong ruler, whilst she had also made a notable contribution to Scotland’s international relations- both diplomatic and economic- and its religious life, as well as fostering its military strength and supporting new technology in an age where warfare was changing massively. She is still a very shadowy figure for all this, however, and the lack of information available about her life and world do not help us to dispel some of the older assumptions about her rule. We don’t even have any contemporary artistic portrayals of her. Nonetheless though she died relatively young and while she must remain a mysterious figure in many ways, Mary of Guelders was for a short time able to exercise an important influence in both Scotland and arguably even Britain as a whole, and her impact on mid fifteenth century Scotland should not be underestimated.

Read more about Mary here, here, and if looking for books here’s some good places to start x, x (pretty sure there’s much much cheaper versions elsewhere because these books are not usually so expensive but I just wanted to give the titles. Also this book is good for Guelders. And there are lots of primary sources online, including the account of Mary’s wedding by Mathieu d’Escouchy).

#Mary of Guelders #Scottish history #women in history #British history #fifteenth century #shoddy history gifsets #Guelders

92 notes · View notes

mittensmorgul · 6 years

Note

The mixtape thing is hard for me to see as a romantic gesture only- In Stranger Shings, Jonathan Bayers gave a Mixtape to his little brother, In Guardians of the Galaxy, Peter Quill got his Mixtape from his mother-So it seems that can be a family thing too?And we and the show, claim that Castiel is family- I would love it to be pure romantic love thing,but with many mixtapes showing up as a family affair it is hard

Hi there! First of all, my intent behind this reply is one part mild exasperation, one part humorous jibing, and maybe two or three parts coffee (It took a lot of coffee to drown out the part that just wanted to delete this in a fit of less-than-mild exasperation, but I just want to assure you that this reply is in no way intended to be mean-spirited or condescending, and I hope you don’t take it that way).

For my second disclaimer, I’d like to make it known that I have seen neither of these things-- GotG or Stranger Things-- but because I don’t live under a rock, I at least know what they are. So if I say something about them that people who are actually familiar with these things would take issue with, just know that I am not prepared for a meta debate on either GotG or Stranger Things, but that no ill is intended in referencing them here.

(for my third disclaimer, I’d like to again state how sad I am that meta writers need to paste these sorts of disclaimers on everything, but such is the way things go...)

Righto! I think we can get down to business now. :)

There has already been a very well-written defense of the mixtape as romantic as used in GotG and GotG 2, and how it even STRENGTHENS the romantic reading of the mixtape scene in 12.19. But being me, the post somehow didn’t make it into the proper tag on my blog, and despite trying to search for it multiple different ways, I can’t seem to find it anywhere... >.>

(additional disclaimer that I’m in the middle of a Death Migraine, so apologies for any lack of due diligence in linking relevant references... searching for things hurts my brain right now)

The gist of it was that the mixtape contained songs that Peter Quill’s parents listened to together, so the tape’s ORIGINS were without question romantically coded. Despite the fact that the movie opens with Peter’s dying mother giving him the tape (this was what happened, right? I’m not mistaken here?) as a gift of love from mother to son, from what I understand about the sequel, PETER TURNS RIGHT AROUND AND USES THE TAPE TO WOO GAMORA. Restoring the “romantic” associations the tape began with, imbuing the mixtape with a sort of “legacy of love.”

Did I get all that right?

This is EXACTLY what I was referring to in my post yesterday as the show’s history of using Led Zeppelin songs in explicitly romantic situations.

In the OPENING SCENE of 12.01, as Dean’s establishing his identity for a very confused and suddenly-alive-after-33-years Mary, this is what he tells her:

Dean: Listen to me. Your name - your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, you were born December 5, 1954 to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for work, and you bounced right along with him and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.Mary: How do you know all that?Dean: Dad told me. March 23, 1972 you walked out of a movie theater, Slaughterhouse-Five, you loved it. And you bumped into a big marine and knocked him on his ass. You were embarrassed and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So you went to, uh, Mulroni's, and you talked and he was cute, and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song, so when he asked you for your number you gave it to him even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that you met-Mary: John Winchester.Dean: August 19, 1975 you were married, in Reno, your idea. Few years later I came along, then Sammy.Mary: Then I burned. How long have I been gone?Dean: Thirty-three years.

SHE GAVE JOHN WINCHESTER HER NUMBER BECAUSE HE KNEW ALL THE WORDS TO EVERY LED ZEPPELIN SONG. IT WAS A FLIRTATION. IT WAS THE FOUNDING STONE IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP.

LED ZEPPELIN LYRICS.

EXPLICITLY ROMANTIC.

Not only that, but we know that Dean has known this story his whole life. As if Mary (who had died long ago when he was a child, just like Peter Quill’s mother) had given him a reason to love these songs, too. For Dean they weren’t just ///romantic/// coded, but a link to that happier and more innocent time from his childhood, where his life was normal and his mom cut the crusts off his PBJ and gave him pie. From a time when Dean thought life could even be normal at all.

So, not solely romantic, but absolutely romanticized. Or idealized, at least. These were memories he clung to like a koala as his life fell to pieces after Mary died. He remembered that old life as only a child could, through rose-tinted soft-focus, reinforced by John’s vague and infrequent recounting of his memories of Mary.

(remember in 3.09, how 9-year-old Sam complained that they NEVER talked about mom? and how upset Dean became when Sam probed him for more information? And even in the pilot episode Sam said something about never being able to get mom back, and Dean threw him against the bridge pillar and told him to NEVER say stuff like that about Mary... I mean, it’s HEAVILY implied that talking about her AT ALL was something that just didn’t happen, but when it did, it was the sort of memory Dean referenced in his speech in 12.01... those were the “important details” he’d memorized... and maybe that entire description of their first meeting hadn’t even been John’s words at all, but things Dean had been carrying in his own mind since he was a child-- something Mary might’ve told him herself before she died, since that bit of Dean’s story is related back to Mary in Mary’s own pov.)

The show has also lampshaded the use of Led Zeppelin as a sexual overture, in 2.02:

Jo: You know, I thought you were gonna toss me some cheap pickup line. Most hunters come through that door think they can get in my pants with some... pizza, a six pack, and side one of Zeppelin IV.

Jo had been expecting Dean to hit on her, and it’s implied all the way up through her appearance as a ghost in 7.04 that she’d WANTED him to hit on her, that she’d had a crush on him or was attracted to him... and the only reason she turned him down in 5.10 was because she didn’t just want the “last night on earth” fling with him... This was 100% a come-on.

And Dean’s two favorite songs? Ramble On (which yes, on the surface is a LotR reference, but the deeper message is the search for a lover), and Traveling Riverside Blues (which is 100% about sex... I mean... It’s just pure lust). Put together, they’re like the peak of Love and Lust. And being Dean’s two top favorite songs? I’d bet both of them are on that mixtape.

So back to the point with the GotG reference. It not only does not invalidate Dean’s gift of the tape to Cas as a romantic gesture, but REINFORCES the romantic nature of the gift.

These songs that united Peter’s parents, which his mom left to him after she died, and eventually he uses to romance someone he’s in love with...

If Peter had turned around and given the mixtape to another relative, or to a friend he had no romantic interest in, then I would’ve given you this example. But that is explicitly NOT what happened. Sorry. When taken in the larger context of the entire story around it, saying the mixtape there was only about a mother’s love for her son is being deliberately obtuse. Context matters, and taking that one link in Peter’s mixtape chain out of the larger interconnected story is cherry picking.

So that leaves us with ONE SINGLE EXAMPLE (which I won’t argue with because I have not seen Stranger Things and therefore have zero context with which to debate what you stated about it) OUT OF THE ENTIRE CANON OF HUMAN STORYTELLING in which a mixtape is used as a platonic or familial gift with no romantic coding whatsoever.

I’m going to go ahead and call the use of the mixtape in Stranger Things THE EXCEPTION TO THE RULE. This was the subversion of the standard trope.

I asked Mr. Mittens and kidperson (who HAVE watched Stranger Things) what the context of the mixtape was, just so I could have a general idea. Apparently it was given to a younger brother by an older brother as a sort of “This is important music that you need to know to be cool” sort of gift. Or maybe “music that is important to me.” Apparently the older brother was hospitalized for something at some point? So there was also this generalized feeling of “taking care of my little brother” aspect to it? I’m just spitballing on the like three things I know about ST, so no actual meta value is being ascribed to these statements.

But this is what really bothers me about your question, because this is something that’s been discussed since 12.19 aired, and I would like to put forth this argument:

The VAST MAJORITY of references to the gift of a mixtape in popular culture ARE EXPLICITLY ROMANTICALLY OR SEXUALLY CODED. The OVERWHELMING number of references over DECADES of storytelling simply cannot be invalidated by a SINGLE use of the mixtape in a non-romantic way.

PLUS: CONTEXT MATTERS. You can’t just say, “Dean gave Cas a mixtape, but because one time on one show someone gave a mixtape to his brother, so therefore these situations could be identical, and it could be a gesture of brotherly camaraderie and not specifically romantic.” THAT IS NOT A VALID ARGUMENT WHEN TAKEN IN CONTEXT.

The entire scene in 12.19 was framed, shot, and edited with multiple other romantically coded tropes. The absolute QUIET that settled over the scene (no background music, the only sounds those of their voices, speaking earnestly and emotionally to one another), the fact that we didn’t see Dean GIVE the tape TO CAS, but only Cas attempting to return the tape to Dean because his recent actions HURT DEAN. Dean was ANGRY that Cas had gone missing for a time and had ignored his calls, and had stormed off to his room in a huff. Cas’s response to this was to offer to RETURN the tape to Dean (now explicitly coded as a gift of love, because he worried that Dean may have withdrawn whatever feelings that had inspired the gift in the first place).

The fact that Dean can’t even LOOK at Cas because of his hurt, and yet picks up the tape and hands it back to Cas (in a shot that frames JUST THEIR HANDS PASSING THE TAPE like THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT PLS PAY ATTENTION PLS), and tells him, “It’s a gift. You keep those.”

I can’t believe people need me to spell out all the subtext in that one line, but here it is:

At this moment, the fact that the gift object itself is a mixtape is practically irrelevant, because THAT LINE ITSELF carries about nine miles of romantic subtext. In this context, the mixtape takes on the same narrative weight as Arwen’s necklace in Lord of the Rings. It’s a symbol of her immortality as an elf, AND a symbol for her heart. AND SHE OFFERS IT TO ARAGORN, AND THEN HE TRIES TO GIVE IT BACK BECAUSE HE FEELS HE DOES NOT DESERVE IT, BECAUSE HE’S ABOUT TO LEAVE HER TO GO ON HIS MISSION TO SAVE THE WORLD.

Sound familiar?

This familiarity IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS A VERY LONG-LIVED ROMANTIC TROPE.

The fact that the Macguffin in this case happens to be a Led Zeppelin mixtape in 12.19 only ADDS to the inherently romantically coded GESTURE of what happened in that whole entire scene, compounded by A DECADE of other romantically coded subtext between Dean and Cas.

*screams into the void and the apologizes to the void and tucks it back under its blanket*

There’s also the fact that we have no idea when, or under what circumstances, Dean gave that tape to Cas in the first place. We can only speculate that it may have happened after the events of 12.12, but honestly it could’ve been any time in the preceding ten years. For argument’s sake, let’s suppose it was a relatively recent gift, considering the circumstances under which Cas attempted to return it-- immediately after being confronted with his unexplained absence and Dean’s anger over it, and immediately PRIOR to his PLANNED BETRAYAL, his theft of the Colt, and his abandonment of Dean yet again... The circumstances under which Cas felt he might not ///deserve/// this specific token of Dean’s feelings for him involved betrayal of those feelings by virtue of his absence and abandonment of Dean (at least, he understood this much of what that tape seemed to represent to Dean).

*another disclaimer: I’ve been writing this for like four hours now, and my Death Migraine has progressed to the point where I need to not look at things for a while. I could keep going here, but I’m failing at basic human things like “being able to sit upright” and “not throwing up every time I open my eyes” so I’m gonna stop typing now*

*no wait, one more thing because I can type with my eyes closed*

Isn’t it amazing that we’ve now evolved to the point where instead of combing through the subtext to find romantically coded things in their interactions, folks are now actively scrambling to find ways to explain away the blatantly in-your-face romantically coded text? I mean... what have we come to here? When the more OBVIOUS and far more defensible read of the scene is the romantic read? And yet still there’s this scramble to suggest it could be non-romantic...

And do you know how these sorts of arguments all sound to me? I’ll let the Simpsons explain it for me:

youtube

#top 13 zepp traxx #the scheherazade of supernatural #apologies that this sort of goes incoherent at points #imma go lie down in a dark room for a while now and pray for death #Anonymous

160 notes · View notes

ignissa · 6 years

Text

Eclipsa and Richard III

I think people who have no knowledge of British history may not notice the similarity to the current situation with the British Royal family.

Quick history lesson:

Recently the remains of King Richard III were found beneath a carpark in Leicester - he was King between 1483 and 1485 but was killed in the Battle of Bosworth Field and usurped by Henry VII, the first Tudor king. The current British Royal family claim to be direct descendants of the Tudor dynasty.

Richard died without a legitimate son but named John de la Pole, the son of his eldest sister, heir to the throne. His successor Henry VII (1457–1509) claimed a right to the throne through his wife Elizabeth of York, who was the daughter of Edward IV (1422–1483), Richard’s brother. Her royal line also came through John of Gaunt. Henry also had a royal blood line through Margaret Beaufort, his mother, who was the great–great–great–greatgranddaughter of Edward I (1239–1307), but the Beauforts were banned by statute from ruling by Henry IV. DNA analysis of the uncovered bones of Richard III show that he was unrelated to 5 seperate modern-day descendants of his great–great–grandfather, Edward III.

At some point between Edward III and today, the royal bloodline was disrupted. If the illegitimate baby was Edward III's son John of Gaunt (1340–1399) or his son Henry IV (1366–1413) then the royal blood line would have been lost in later Kings and Queens. If John of Gaunt was not actually the child of Edward III, arguably Henry IV had no legitimate right to the throne and, therefore, neither did Henry V, Henry VI and, indirectly, the Tudors. Basically, this means that the modern day royal family are potentially illegitimate.

When this DNA analysis came out, pretty much nobody cared because the royal family are incredibly popular. What’s more interesting to me are the similarities between Richard III’s legacy and Eclipsa’s situation.

Richard III

Most people associate Richard with the eponymous play by Shakespeare which portrays him as a physically deformed villain, albeit brave and comedic. The play was written for a Tudor audience and was part of a smear campaign against Richard’s legacy.

First, the facts:

Richard III was an exceptionally good King for his time and, by all accounts, probably quite a nice person. During Richard's reign, the historian John Rous praised him as a "good lord" who punished "oppressors of the commons", adding that he had "a great heart". In 1483 the Italian observer Mancini reported that Richard enjoyed a good reputation and that both "his private life and public activities powerfully attracted the esteem of strangers". His bond to the City of York in particular was such that on hearing of Richard's demise at the battle of Bosworth the City Council officially deplored the King's death, at the risk of facing the victor's wrath.

Richard's Council of the North is considered to have greatly improved conditions for northern England, as it was, in theory at least, intended to keep the peace and punish law breakers, as well as resolving land disputes. In December 1483, Richard instituted what later became known as the Court of Requests, a court to which poor people who could not afford legal representation could apply for their grievances to be heard. He also improved bail in January 1484, to protect suspected felons from imprisonment before trial and to protect their property from seizure during that time.

He banned restrictions on the printing and sale of books, and he ordered the translation of the written Laws and Statutes from the traditional French into English. He ended the arbitrary benevolences (a device by which Edward IV raised funds), made it punishable to conceal from a buyer of land that a part of the property had already been disposed of to somebody else, required that land sales be published, laid down property qualifications for jurors, restricted the abusive Courts of Piepowders, regulated cloth sales, instituted certain forms of trade protectionism, prohibited the sale of wine and oil in fraudulent measure, and prohibited fraudulent collection of clergy dues.

How did the Tudors twist his reputation:

Richard had a slight physical deformity - one shoulder was higher than the other due to a slight twist in his spine. Both contemporary reports and his skeleton show this to be true, however he was still considered a very capable fighter and always led the battle alongside his men. Richard’s contemporaries wrote that he was a handsome man with a good heart and that he was short, and largely don’t place much focus on his shoulder. A Tudor smear campaign after his death pushed the idea that he was a hideous hunchback. They went to the trouble of painting over existing paintings of Richard to exaggerate his hunchback or outright destroying them. They also commissioned paintings of their own, portraying Richard with a hunchback and sinister frown.

Richard was originally the regent for his nephew Edward V, who was 12 and next in line to be King. Before his coronation Edward and his brother Richard were taken to the Tower of London, then the traditional residence of monarchs prior to coronation. Both princes were subsequently declared illegitimate by Parliament, as their father was accused of bigamy. After Richard took the throne, it is said that “ Edward and his younger brother Richard were taken into the inner apartments of the Tower and then were seen less and less until they disappeared altogether.” - Dominic Mancini. It has been suggested that the boys may have become ill at the tower, as a doctor visited Edward regularly during Mancini’s time at the court.

Other than their disappearance, there is no direct evidence that the princes were murdered, and "no reliable, well-informed, independent or impartial sources" for the associated events. Nevertheless, following their disappearance, rumours quickly spread that they had been murdered. Only one contemporary narrative account of the boys' time in the tower exists: that of Dominic Mancini. Accounts written after the accession of Henry Tudor are often claimed to be biased or influenced by Tudor propaganda. Four unidentified bodies have been found which are considered possibly connected with the events of this period: two at the Tower of London and two in Saint George's Chapel, Windsor Castle. Those found in the Tower were buried in Westminster Abbey, but the Abbey authorities have refused to allow either set of remains to be subjected to DNA analysis to positively identify them as the remains of the princes. In any case, Richard had no reason to kill the princes, since they had already been declared illegitimate.

The Tudors used these rumours to portray Richard as a murderous villain, willing to kill everyone in his way to grab power. They even accused him of murdering his wife Anne Neville via poison (she likely died of TB) in order to marry his niece Elizabeth of York. Richard sent Elizabeth away from court to Sheriff Hutton and publicly rebutted these rumours on 30 March 1485 during an assembly of Lords he summoned at the Hospital of St. John. Addressing them "in a loud and distinct voice", he "showed his grief and displeasure aforesaid and said it never came into his thought or mind to marry in such manner wise, nor willing nor glad of the death of his queen but as sorry and in heart as heavy as man might be …".

Parallels

Eclipsa’s daughter was erased from the records / Richard’s desired heir was usurped.

Eclipsa has been accused of eating babies / Richard was accused of murdering his nephews.

Eclipsa is not related to the current royal family / A break in the Royal Family bloodline occured around the time of Richard’s reign, somewhere between House Plantaganet and House Tudor.

Eclipsa’s records were edited and propaganda created against her / Richard’s paintings were defaced and his legacy ruined through Tudor propaganda.

Eclipsa was imprisoned and hidden away from public eye / Richard was refused a royal burial and instead brought to Leicester on the back of a horse and buried in an unassuming church.

#svtfoe #svtfoe spoilers #svtfoe analysis #eclipsa #richard iii

12 notes · View notes

marjaystuff · 3 years

Text

Elise Cooper Interviews Mark Greaney

Relentless by Mark Greaney is how the main character, The Gray Man, Court Gentry, is defined. The title also describes how the story will blow people’s minds with all the action and intrigue.

The plot opens with Gentry in the hospital being treated for an infection caused by a knife wound. He is asked to head to Venezuela to find a rogue NSA employee and interrogate him for information. He finds out that there is software, PowerSlave, that can identify operatives and that the UAE plans on using an Iranian cell to start a war. After discovering that his love interest and fellow member of “Poison Apple" is in Berlin, he heads there.

Zoya Zakharova has infiltrated a private intelligence firm, Shrike, with some alarming connections. While Gentry has been forbidden from contacting her, his job is to provide backup, should she need it. Shrike has been providing surveillance on several Iranian sleeper agents for their client. Needless to say, they find a way to work together to find information about those wanting to orchestrate a terror attack that could lead to a war between the US and Iran. Not only is Zoya in danger because of her mission she is also being hunted by Russian operatives who are attempting to assassinate her. As a former SVR agent who defected, the Russians want her dead or alive. Court and Zoya know they work best when working together, helping each other to survive and prevent a war.

Mark Greaney definitely has become one of the top thriller authors. His characters are very well developed, and plots filled with hard hitting action and riveting tension. He is able to create storylines where his characters are up against assassins, mercenaries, spies, and terrorists.

Elise Cooper: Why the UAE and Iran?

Mark Greaney: I read an article in an intelligence magazine that explained how the US has an agreement with the UAE. The US will not collect intelligence on that country. I thought --what if something went wrong? After doing some research I saw that we are not always allies and did have some problems in the past. As I was finishing my last edits, news broke out that the UAE and Israel were signing an agreement to work together against Iran. The UAE was worried that the US might not come through for them. They are Sunni and are worried about the expansion of Shite Iran.

EC: Any of it true?

MG: Yes, the UAE is contracting American mercenaries to do assassinations in Yemen. Also, a private intelligence company did hire people from Mossad, NSA, and the CIA to work cyber hacking. There is this company run by the UAE who sees Iran as the enemy and wanted to stalk flames.

EC: Why the main focus of the setting in Berlin?

MG: I wanted to do this book in Berlin before I had a story. I wanted it to have a Cold War feel with geo-political issues. This is where a lot of the action takes place. At the core, this is a spy story.

EC: It is always great when Zoya plays a role in the story?

MG: Just like Court, she is on the run from different people, sometimes the Agency. I want Zoya to always be looking over her shoulder. She is a really important character. There are parallels between their two lives. I do like their relationship but will never have them married and having a baby.

EC: PowerSlave is real?

MG: Not yet. Every year it becomes harder and harder to spy with human intelligence. Computer algorithms can predict someone’s gait. Operatives do have their biometric data stored with American agencies. The technology does exist to identify people. Although human intelligence is the best to find information inside someone’s head, it is getting tougher and tougher to cover someone’s identity.

EC: You always present Court with unique enemies?

MG: Court has a bone infection. It prevented him from doing what he wanted in the needed timeframe. It made him weak. I did not want a character like those in the movies and TV shows where someone gets shot or stabbed and then they are right back into the action. Realistically, Court has suffered a fair amount of physical abuse.

EC: Why a bone infection?

MG: In the previous book, One Minute Out, he is stabbed. Now he has an infection, which makes him more vulnerable. It is one more enemy he needs to fight. I hope this shows his true grit. I came up with this from my own personal experience. About five years ago, I had surgery on my foot. I ended up getting an infection where I needed to have IV seven days a week for eight weeks.

EC: There was an Iranian General killed by a US drone. Sounds familiar?

MG: I put it in after it happened last year to Soleimani. I wrote it where Iran did not respond, but an operative did respond. I hope it adds another layer of intrigue. In the book the Deputy Director of the CIA said the General needed to go. He is a real bad guy even if it does not make it safter for the US. This guy in real life and in the book got what was coming to him. Hopefully, the next guy will think twice.

EC: Matt Hanley, the head of the CIA program, Poison Apple, has a Colt 1911 gun-do you?

MG: I do not own one. It has been used by Special Forces operatives over the years. It is a type of gun and the model is 1911.

EC: Suzanne Brewer seems to be getting worse and worse?

MG: The reader does know more about her than Zack, Zoya, or Court. I think it adds tension to the story. She is a Class A manipulator who only cares about herself and her career trajectory. She is becoming more powerful.

EC: The Gray Man movie is being made by Netflix?

MG: It is a two-hour film of the first book. They start filming on March 1st. Gentry will be played by Ryan Gosling and the villain Lloyd by Chris Evans. I did not have an official say but the Russo brothers did talk to me about the character and storyline. When they wrote the first script it was fantastic and followed close to the book itself. Joe Russo and I have stayed in touch. I understand that this is not the book and the directors, screenwriters, and actors will have their own artistic interpretation. It has a really big budget-the most Netflix has ever spent. What is finally shot and edited I find out at the same time as everyone else.

EC: What about your next book?

MG: I am just now starting to write it. It will involve some things in Court’s past, about twelve years ago, when he worked in the paramilitary unit known as the Goon Squad. There will also be a present-day parallel plot line. It will take place in Pakistan, India, and Turkey. Currently, Brewer will be in the next book, Zach will be in the part of the book in the past, and Zoya will not be in it at all. But since she is a major player, she will never be out more than one book. I think Court is at his best when he has people to play off of. I will be expanding the cast of characters.

THANK YOU!!

0 notes

raepritewrites · 7 years

Text

More fanfiction nobody asked for

this is a personal project ive been working on for a few months now. its not much but id love to have feedback! thanks guys, enjoy! ^_^

This is Not a Love Story

Why is it we can’t always remember when something important happens?

I can tell you the date and time of my birth (thanks mom, but, too much). I know when my parents got married. I know that Thanksgiving falls on the last Thursday of November… yet, I can’t tell you when things changed. Just that they did. One minute, my world looked a certain way, the next everything was different. One minute, there’s a person. Then suddenly she’s a girl. A cute girl. A sexy girl. A girl I like.

And then things change again.

Offhand, I can’t remember when we met. Not exactly. Probably at a party, one of the many that Quinn threw together and I somewhat reluctantly joined in on. It was hard not to, seeing it was at my house. Well, our house – me, Quinn, Todd, and Ben, we all roomed together at the time. At first, it was Quinn and this guy Frank and the others at the house. Then Frank got married, and I needed some new scenery – that didn’t involve my parents – and Quinn offered me the spare bedroom.

It made sense, in a weird way, to all room together. I’m pretty sure Quinn could have afforded to rent the house on his own, but he’s one of those guys that thrives on people. I think if you stuck him on a deserted island, he’d die of loneliness before he ever ran out of coconuts.

For Todd, it was a matter of independence – not really him declaring it, as much as his parents forcing it upon him. He wasn’t so bad, as far as roommates go, but I learned quickly not to ever rely on him to clean… or cook… or shop for groceries… or really do anything particularly useful. He hardly ever came out of his room, except to go to work and eat, and whenever there were people over he never hung out with us. It was kind of like being roommates with a ghost. A ghost who drank orange juice straight out of the carton and then put it back.

Ben was somewhere in the middle of that spectrum. Not super social, but not a recluse. I’ve been informed – subtly and not so much – that I’m a bit of a nerd and a geek. Fair enough, but I don’t think those people have seen Ben in action. Ben took everything to the next level. He’s played more rpgs, more video games, and went to more cons than anyone I know. In thirty years, I picture him as the comic book store guy from the Simpsons, though hopefully with less jaundice.

I’m sure you’re wondering where I fit into all this. Let’s just say, I was voluntarily seeking independence, desiring a little more social interactions, drinking O.J. out of a glass like a normal person, and improving my skills in Dungeons & Dragons.

Now it’s just Ben, his girlfriend, Cassie, and me rooming together, while everyone else has moved on. But that’s not what this story is about. Honestly, I don’t know what it’s about. I guess… when you get right down to it, it’s about her.

So, there was a party, or several parties, and there I was. There she was. And it didn’t mean a thing. Because I didn’t notice her. I mean, we were friends, casual friends, but that was it. Looking back, I don’t know how I ever could have missed her. I chalk it up to being the type of guy who doesn’t notice jailbait (she was younger than me). It’s one of my better qualities, if I do say so myself.

She and her sister were old friends with Quinn, because everyone is old friends with Quinn, and they ended up at our house a lot. We mostly just hung around talking, or playing pool, or occasionally pulling out the Risk boards to try to conquer the world for as long as we could. What I remember from those nights, mostly, was her sister Victoria.

Victoria and her sister, Ava, were a lot alike. Both short, both fair, though Victoria was tanner. They were both funny, and both friendly. They even looked similar. Blondes, though Victoria was dirty blonde and Ava was ash blonde. Round faces, small mouths, and button noses. You only saw the differences between them if you paid attention. Victoria was athletic, cool, and unreadable. She was nice to everyone, but she played her cards close to the chest, and you never could tell exactly what she was thinking.

Ava wasn’t an open book, exactly. There was always some small, secret smile hiding at the corner of her mouth. But ninety percent of the time, one look at her face could tell you almost everything. She was curvier, more sarcastic, and opinionated. Even back then, I knew she didn’t hold back. Whatever she thought of you, she could sum it up in one word, or one smirk. That’s not to say she was mean, or at least, she didn’t try to be. It was nice that someone finally said what they were thinking, it took the guesswork out of everything.

I’m not sure when I started to pay more attention to her. As time went on, Victoria and Ava were always around, hanging out with us. They became kind of a unit – it was weird when you didn’t see both of them together, like they were missing their arm. They weren’t very close in age. Victoria was about five years older, I think, but it hardly showed. Victoria was a little immature for her age, Ava was more grownup so they balanced each other out.

As time went on though, Victoria found other social groups and we didn’t see her as much. Ava still came though, for the parties and the game nights. We’d ask where Victoria was on those nights when Ava appeared alone at the door, but all Ava would ever say was she was out somewhere else. Had other plans. Sorry, couldn’t make it. Next time, honest.

I guess it was at that point that I started to really pay attention to Ava.

Around Victoria, she had always seemed a little muted, like Victoria did enough of the joking and laughing and talking for both of them. Or like she didn’t feel the need to interact much when Victoria supposedly had it covered.

Underneath the affection they shared, there was a faint tenseness to their relationship. You’d never pick up on it unless you were hanging around them for as long as I did.

Victoria liked to ‘rein in’ her sister’s sarcastic jokes; she’d shoot her a look whenever she felt that Ava was getting a little too loose with her humor and her comments. “Because I’m her big sister, and it’s my job to look out for her,” I’d overheard her quietly explain this once to someone. Most of the time, Ava would back down, blushing occasionally at her own cheekiness. But sometimes, Ava would stare right back at her sister, defiant and irritated, which made Victoria back down instead.

With Victoria out wandering the world Ava-free, it was like looking at a new person entirely.

Ava laughed louder and more freely at anything she found funny when Victoria was missing, and she had a sense of humor that was both broad and obscure, dry and wet. Almost anything could make her giggle: puns, nerdy jokes, little-known references, sarcasm, and bad movies. I liked that about her.

Ava was also a giant nerd, which was even better. She loved Star Trek, cartoons, fantasy and mystery books – she even wrote fan fiction. I’d nearly lost it when she mentioned that.

“Fan fiction?” I asked in disbelief.

Ava was smiling, a little uncomfortably, and blushing bright pink. “Yeah. I started when I was eleven. I don’t write as much as I used to, but I really like it. I like taking a part of a world I know really well, and putting it back together in a way that I think works better. I love thinking of all the little in between scenes that don’t make it into a book or movie. How this, led to that. And I really love falling down the rabbit hole into the endless Wonderland of ‘what ifs’. Is that crazy?”

I thought about it. “No, not really. I’ve just never met someone in real life who does it. I thought only kids in middle school and recluses wrote fan fiction.”

“I take some offense to that,” Ava said, trying to look affronted but only succeeding in smiling. “I’ll have you know I was the most reclusive middle schooler in the world. I’m a prime candidate for being a fan fic author.”

“What kind of stories do you write? You don’t write slash, do you?”

Ava laughed now. “No! I write about superheroes, and all the reasons they get PTSD and should be in therapy. Seriously, why hasn’t Batman consulted a shrink yet? He’s got ample reason to. Mommy and Daddy issues to fill an entire wing at Arkham Asylum.”

It took a while, a long while, after Victoria floated off to other locales that I learned just what a deep well of nerddom Ava drew from.

Ava guarded her nerdiness like Smaug guarding dwarf treasure. She only made inside jokes or talked about her favorite comics with those she knew were in on the secret. I wasn’t sure why, but I always got excited when I found a new aspect of her fangirl personality. It was like discovering a new (blah blah I’ll edit this simile later) every time we talked.

I’m not much of a talker. Or a smiler, so I’m told. But when I’m with Ava, I want to laugh. She’s funny even when she’s not trying to be.

#fanfiction #personal #rae writes #rae prite writes #this is not a love story #thoughts #critique #read and review #dont hold back #thanks for reading

2 notes · View notes

carnalsociety-rpg · 4 years

Photo

HEY UPPER EAST SIDER, WELCOME TO CARNAL SOCIETY

Ali, you’ve been accepted as Blair Waldorf with Poppy Drayton as your faceclaim. Congrats! Please read through our checklist and turn in your account within 24 hours.

THIS I KNOW, THE BEST IS YET TO COME.

OOC Information.

Name/Alias: Ali Preferred pronouns: She/her Age: 27 Timezone: EST Triggers: Student/teacher romances, pedophilia

IC Information.

Name: Blair Waldorf Age: 27 Gender: Cis-female Pronouns: She/her Sexuality: Pansexual Faceclaim: Poppy Drayton Occupation: CEO of Waldorf Designs

Headcanons:

Since she was a child, Blair Waldorf had planned her life out very carefully. Of course, her life took a few (okay, more than just a few) twists and turns that forced her to edit her plan. After testifying in Chuck’s defense after the incident on the roof, Blair fully believed that she had finally gotten everything back on track. And for a while, it truly seemed that way. She was truly happy (a rare occurrence for her) as she continued to work under her mother’s tutelage at Waldorf Designs and grew even closer, if possible, to Chuck. But of course, life just had to ruin her timeline once again. It hadn’t even been a year since the incident, as it was now known, that she discovered her pregnancy, and despite the fact that it was certainly not on her plan quite yet, she decided to embrace what life continued to throw at her. Blair Waldorf was done questioning fate (at least, for now).

Henry James Bass was born on June 13th in the city that had held so many infamous adventures for his parents. When he came into the world, Chuck joking swore that there was a storm raging outside that signaled bad things to come. Blair, on the other hand, insisted the sun was shining which proved that there were good things in store for their family. This is the story they always told about Henry’s birth, and no one ever quite knew who was telling the truth. No one ever really stopped to consider that maybe they were both right.

Although Blair detested the idea of the whole ‘barefoot and pregnant’ marriage ideas (ridiculously tacky in her opinion), she wasn’t overly fond of having their son prior to marriage either. The two eloped in Paris on a spur-of-the-moment vacation to visit her father when she was barely two months along. Although everyone knows that she was pregnant before their marriage, it’s one of those things that people simply don’t talk about; at least, they don’t to her face.

ii.

But all good things come to an end. Whether it was her postpartum depression or Chuck’s dedication to work or her own insecurities, she’ll likely never know. In the months after Henry’s birth, their rushed marriage seemed to fall apart. Though they kept it civil in the public’s eye and for the sake of their son, they soon realized that they had rushed into something they were not ready for, but had no way out of. They were married barely a year before they separated, followed by a divorce about six months later. Henry was barely two before their divorce was finalized.

Although she still feels it was what was best for her and Henry, she does regret how everything worked out between her and Chuck. She fully believed that they were it for each other, but things just didn’t work out the way she wanted it to, and their relationship further deteriorated after the divorce. They were just barely civil to each other in public for the sake of their son, and things were worse behind closed doors, especially after Blair was given primary custody of Henry.

iii.

In some ways, Blair has grown up a lot since the time that Gossip Girl reigned over the Upper East Side. She’s much more confident in herself and has worked on controlling her pretentious and somewhat obnoxious side. She’s definitely had to mature, especially after taking on a higher role in Waldorf Designs (now CEO once more) and having a child looking to her to set a good example. Of course, she’s still the same overly ambitious woman with refined (and sometimes ridiculous) tastes and certainly is still just as scheming (or manipulative, depending on your view), but she just attributes that to her upbringing. She doesn’t like to leave things to chance, and instead will make sure things go in her favor. Blair still doesn’t trust easily, especially after the implosion that was her marriage, but she still has her close friends that she would do anything for. She hasn’t dated really in the year since the divorce, despite being urged to by her friends; she can’t really see letting another man into her life when she’s already so busy with the business, her son, her charities, and her booming social life.

She has taken up yoga as a way to stay calm. It started as a joke during the separation period from Chuck. Her therapist suggested it as a way to control her outbursts, and she decided to try it on a whim. And she found that she actually enjoyed it. Blair liked how it seemed to help her focus in the morning and allowed her to start her day off on the right foot. She tries to do it every morning in her apartment before her coffee and finds that her days are usually better when she does it.

Although Audrey movies are still her favorite, her son isn’t the biggest fan. She would love to say that he’s had refined taste from an early age, but Henry clearly prefers the boxed macaroni and cheese and Disney movies that Dorota sometimes plays for her own children. So far, Blair has seen his favorites,Coco and Moana, more times than she can admit, but at least they have a better plot than a princess waiting around for a prince. She even finds herself watching them sometimes after he falls asleep, still clutching his stuffed giraffe (long story), although she’d never admit to it in public. She likes that her son is seeing happy endings in movies, and that he will believe in them; she thinks that it’s really important that, despite the fact that his parents aren’t together, that Henry sees that there are happy endings in the world.

iv.

About six months ago, Blair received a phone call that rocked her to her core. Her step-father called to tell her that her mother had had a heart attack while they were at Masa and had been rushed to the hospital. Although her mother was survived, the doctors told the family that Eleanor needed to take a step back from her active lifestyle and would need to focus on her health and not her business.

And Blair once again became the CEO of Waldorf Designs. It was something she’d eventually planned on becoming once more, but she had assumed she’d have more time before taking on that responsibility again, especially as she was now raising a toddler. But she couldn’t let her mother down and stepped back into the role with gusto. The business is continuing to flourish under her new leadership, and she’s even thinking about moving into other markets as well like home design. While she once would have considered it to be more trashy than classy, she recognizes good business ideas when she sees them. Plus, it’s not like her brand would ever be sold in Walmart or anything like that; it’s still going to be aimed at the upper class though she is also considering launching a more affordable option so that her business will really be a household name.

The night of Chuck’s death, she was supposed to meet with him. It was something simple, just getting him to sign some forms for the exclusive preschool they were putting Henry in. Blair had been meaning to get him to sign them for some time now, but after playing phone tag for days, she had texted him that she would be over that evening to finally get the papers signed so that they could move forward with their son’s early education. Her last communication with him was a text telling him that he better not be drunk when she got there. She ended up getting caught up with work and sent a text saying that she’d meet him the following day, but it was too late.

The police showed up the next morning at her apartment with Dorota shaking her awake, a look of panic on her face. Blair can still remember the confusion and annoyance at being woken up earlier than she had planned on followed by the disbelief at the sight of the officers in her foyer. She couldn’t tell you what exactly they said to her, just the message behind their words. Her ex was dead.

She had always assumed that she and Chuck would eventually patch things up, despite their divorce. The just needed more time to grow into the people they were meant to be. Now, she’ll never get the chance, and her son will grow up without his father.

Fun Fact: I typed Waldork instead of Waldorf way too many times in this.

Associations:

a smile half feral and half charming. dark lipstick stains on white collars. red roses in silver vases. infamy follows in your wake. fiercely loyal. never forgetting an insult. chocolate truffles and rosé for breakfast. vulnerability hidden behind layers of confidence and sass. lace slips and leather jackets. clever as the devil and twice as petty. a face straight out of myths. chin raised in defiance. the hug of a treasured child. born to make history.

Secret:

[REDACTED]

YOU KNOW YOU LOVE ME.

pinterest board

mockblog

#accepted

0 notes