devilrosola

[cloudberry-sims]

A Decade Through Time: The Alderberg Legacy: Year 1596

Birthdays, weddings, births and deaths. 

From the Beginning I Currently 

The snow fell heavenly across Outland when Wolfeden household celebrated to occasions: Jane's birthday and Catherine's upcoming pregnancy. 

Jane was such a good and loving child, and Catherine hopes that the baby she is carrying will be just as sweet and loving as their older sister. 

At the Horthall family home, Avigail , the only daughter of Arthur and Eleanor, celebrated her 20th birthday. 

Avigail’s beauty was well known across Outland , yet she had truly blossomed now that she was a young adult. Her father has been getting many more letter’s for her hand.  

Her family had been hosting one of the many suitors for her hand that winter, and it was clear that he would be her groom. 

Garitt Friswell was the gentleman’s name, and he was unlike any merchant son's Avigail had ever meet. He was from Praveen, dressed in finery but was also very humble. He spoke softly about his wishes for him to have a big family, to live out his life in peace and quite at the country side. 

Arthur was very fond of his only daughter, and the idea of ​​her moving faraway made his heartache, so when Garitt showed an interest in moving to Outland if Arthur allowed him to marry Avigail, made Arthur excited with joy! 

Avigail and Garitt's wedding took place 3 months later. It was a small private ceremony with just the bride's immediate family attending, as Garitt was orphaned years ago. 

Avigail was tearing at the sight of her wedding band, she was so happy to be the wife of such a sweet and loving man. 

They didn’t have a problem consummating their marriage , as both husband and wife were eager to expand their family with as many children as they could have together. 

 But for joy and happiness to exist in this world, so must grief and despair. 

Audrey Mildmay , the youngest child of Mary with her second husband Geoffrey , was dying of unknown cause. 

By her side was her older half-sister Anne , her niece Sybil and Audrey's young son Geoffrey . Audrey whispered to Anne, begging her to look after her only child for her. 

The sisters were 12 years apart from one and the other, sharing different fathers, yet both had loved one another deeply in their youth. 

Anne helped raise Audrey after their mother's passing but when Geoffrey forced Anne marrying John she stopped visiting and they grew apart. 

She regrets that decision now and promised she would honor her wish and that Geoff would be in good hands. After hearing those words Audrey past away at age 30. 

Geoffrey Mildmay moved in with his aunt and her family. The soon-to-be 6 year old was cherished by his aunt  who poured her affection and guilt into his care. 

Sadly, not everyone was happy. Mary envied her cousin from her for stealing her from her mothers love from her from her from her. She did not care that Geoffrey was orphaned either and it was something she tormented her cousin with when they were alone. 

With her cousin moving in, Sybil had decided to find work within the village to support her mother.

She had gained the apprenticeship at a tailor shop that recently opened by a man named Issac Stanwix. She learned a lot about tailoring and sewing from him. 

But it was clear that Issac had other interests then just tutoring Sybil . As he would whisper sweet nothing in her ear of her and hold her hands often. It would make Sybil blush.

But she would always hold him back from trying something more. After all, she was a proper lady, unlike Catherine .

Sybil wanted marriage and she told Issac this wholeheartedly. If he wanted something that she would only give her husband, he would have to marry her for it. 

And marry her, he did. Shortly after her 20th birthday, Sybil married Isaac at the church an early winter morning.

At the wedding Sybil’s family attended - her mother , stepfather , her now 13 year old half-sister Mary and 6 year old cousin Geoff. Only Catherine was missing , but Sybil couldn’t think about her runaway sister on her wedding... 

However , even if Catherine had known about her little sisters wedding she wouldn’t be able to attend. After all , she had just delivered another healthy little girl named Beatrice and needed the rest. 

While his female cousins were happy about their engagements , marriages and babies , Griffyn was sulky as Joan had finally found a bride for him with the help of uncle Nicholas. 

Listening to his gran excitedly talk about the letter ,  containing the approval of his and Priscilla Fairbrothers , his future bride , by the girls guardians and his uncle made Griffyn dishearten. 

He remembered how deeply in-love his parents were and they chose each other and it made him sadden that his grandmother , whom he loved dearly , didn’t let him make this choice himself. 

His sister and cousin both noticed , Ursula being the more compassionate one laid a soft hand on his shoulder.

While Margery felt a deep , deep dislike for whom ever made her elder brother feel this way. 

Sadly that anger was shifted not towards her gran or uncle , but to Priscilla , whom would be arriving in 3 months time for the wedding. 

Rest in peace my lovely Audrey 😭 Also I know , I forgot to introduce teen-Mary and child-Geoff , but so many things were happening in 1596! 

[sharkbait77]

The Sun Sets With You

Chapter Five: Just A Man

Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Fluff! (It's getting cute y'all!), death of a parent, grief, smoking, food, Silas🤢, a little sad Ezra in this one

W/C: 4k (made it a little longer to make up for the wait! 🥺)

A/N: We are back! I'm so so so sorry this took so long to get out! What can I say, life happened & kept knocking me down & I couldn't find the strength to write for this fic. I'm still not even completely happy with this chapter, but after reading it so many times, I think it's okay lol a huge thanks to everyone for being so patient & lovely to me ♥️ okay, I'll shut up, hope you enjoy!

Series || Main || Taglist || AO3

Chapter Four || Chapter Six

~MAY EIGHTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

As the days and weeks passed, Ezra finally felt comfortable enough to join you and Pa for meals at your family table, sitting and eating quietly until responding to a thought or question of Pa’s. It felt nice. It felt…warm and natural. As opposed to the slight coldness you’ve felt sitting with Pa, without your mother. Though it was still as quiet as your meals alone with your father, the silence now was more comforting.

You realized shortly after that last evening under the tree with Ezra what exactly ails you when near him, why exactly your pulse quickens and you feel heat flush your neck and cheeks. It was a startling conclusion, given that you have been inexperienced when it comes to the term ‘love’, outside of the love you felt for Ma and Pa. This, with Ezra, contrasts immensely.

It had caught you off guard, a small infatuation with the man that you realized must have taken hold of your heart from the first moment you met him, when you simply could not remove your eyes from his face. You now find your eyes lingering on his features longer, learning the curve of his smile, the fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, memorizing the tone of his voice and his laugh to be replayed in moments of silence.

It’s strange; a simple emotion that you had witnessed your whole childhood into adulthood from your Ma and Pa, an emotion you carry in your heart for each of them, though the way you experience it now, the strength in which it has grasped onto your very being – and so suddenly – has been enough to make the room spin whenever you lay your eyes on him. The idea of taking a husband has never been one of priority. Up until now, at least.

“Many thanks for the delicious meal, miss. I am grateful you have welcomed me into your home as such,” Ezra says as he stands, helping you take the soiled dishes to the wash basin.

“You have always been welcome, Mr. Prospect. I am glad you now feel comfortable joining us,” you say with a gentle smile, looking up at him as he approaches you with the dishes. You catch a faint hue of pink spreading across his sun kissed cheeks.

“Would you care for a pipe, Mr. Prospect?” Pa calls out as he sits in his chair by the fireplace, beginning to pack away tobacco in his own pipe.

“I very much appreciate the offer, sir, however I do not smoke,” Ezra replies kindly as he turns away from you to face Pa and you begin washing.

“Good man; do not start the nasty habit until you become old and worn as I am now,” Pa jests.

“I only see a wise man, years of strength and kindness the only evidence that you have lived a wonderful life thus far,” Ezra compliments and Pa releases a hearty laugh.

“As I said: ‘old’,” Pa replies and both Ezra and you laugh along.

The genuine and natural lightheartedness of the conversations Pa and Ezra shared tonight warms your heart and you realize tonight has been one of the few nights you’ve smiled so freely, so frequently, since Ma’s passing and you strongly sense her spirit surrounding the three of you. Almost as if you could hear her laughing along with you all.

Although a feeling of sadness lingers in your heart that she cannot be here physically, you remember Ezra’s kind words and let them ease you. The comfort you feel wash over you leaves you pondering if it’s a sign of acceptance from above, from Ma, that she welcomes Ezra’s presence amongst you and Pa.

“Can I be of any assistance, Sunflower?” Ezra turns and asks quietly, out of earshot of Pa and addressing you by his personal endearment he has bestowed upon you.

“Thank you for offering, Ezra,” you reply just as softly. His given name had nearly slipped from your lips on more than one occasion tonight, but you felt it best to remain coy in front of your father. “I’m nearly finished now.”

“Perhaps tomorrow night. I will not miss my chance then to be of service,” he smiles and the inside of your cheek stings from the bite you dealt to keep from grinning widely. “I will take my leave for the night. The lovely beasts I room with will be missing my presence, I fear,” he says, loud enough for Pa to hear as well and Pa chuckles at his statement.

“Always a pleasure to have you for dinner, Mr. Prospect,” Pa says and stands to shake Ezra’s hand. “Daughter, would you be so kind as to walk Mr. Prospect to the door?”

“Yes Pa,” you nod, abandoning the soapy dishes for the time being and you wipe your hands to dry on your apron as you head towards the door with Ezra.

Pa smiles again in Ezra’s direction as he walks past and takes his seat once again, watching the flames dance and flicker. Ezra opens the door, allowing you to walk through and step on the porch and he follows suit, shutting the door behind him.

“Shall I walk you to the barn?” You offer.

“No, Sunflower, I would prefer you to stay. The dark of night may carry with it many dangers lurking around the corner.”

“All the more reason I should walk with you,” you grin, wrapping your arms around the wooden support post as you watch him step down into the dirt.

“Then I would intend on escorting you back here and we will only find ourselves repeating the action for one another until daybreak,” he chuckles. “Until tomorrow, dear Sunflower.”

“Tomorrow,” you smile and nod. “Good night, Ezra.”

“Good night,” he bows his head in farewell and turns on his heels to head toward the barn. You linger a moment longer to assure he is well on his way, waving when he turns back to steal another glance at you.

You take a deep breath to calm your galloping heart and turn to walk back inside, Pa sitting quietly as he continues smoking. You head back to the wash basin to finish the chore, rinsing, drying, and putting away the dishes before heading over to sit next to Pa, grabbing a new book from your small collection.

You decided to leave Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland to read with Ezra under the tree and the image of the two of you lying in the grass as you read to him brings a contented smile to your face. After quite a bit of comfortable silence, you feel the curiosity inching through your brain like an insect and decide to give in to the itch.

“H-how are the crops faring, Pa?” You ask while picking at the corner of your book.

“They grow fine,” Pa replies simply. “Each and every week another inch to their lives added.”

“And… Mr. Prospect has been much help?” You continue carefully.

“Oh yes, he has taken on the majority of the labor. We are blessed that he sought to help us.”

“Yes,” you smile softly as you lower your head slightly, gathering the courage to continue the conversation. “And… How do you feel about… Mr. Prospect?”

“What do you mean, child?”

“The townspeople think him...odd.”

“They must reflect on themselves before passing that judgement onto an innocent man. Especially the four hens, as you like to call them,” you giggle and look up at Pa, a slight smirk hidden beneath his thick, grey beard as he lets out a deep chuckle.

“Yes, but… What do you think of Mr. Prospect?”

“Why the curiosity, daughter?” He asks, though no irritation is found in his voice; instead, a light-hearted tone, one of knowing. Knowing why you insist on finding out his opinion.

“Merely curious, Pa,” you say quietly, just loud enough for him to hear over the crackle of the fire.

“Hm,” he hums as he inhales smoke through his pipe, taking his time to retrieve an forthright answer from his mind while you gaze at him in anticipation.

“He is an honest man. Good and kind. A hard worker. I believe he is fit to be a lawful husband to any girl who seeks his affection,” he finally says, looking deep into your eyes and his words go straight to your fast beating heart.

You catch the smile on your face growing, evident in the strain you feel across your cheeks and you put your head down to face the book in your lap.

“That's nice,” you reply once you've cleared your throat and regained control of the muscles on your face.

“Yes. Yes it is,” Pa smirks as he inhales another puff from his pipe.

~MAY TENTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Today is as exhilarating as the rest; you attempt to sort through the inventory of the shop, taking note of which supplies are dwindling while also marking down new items the townspeople have requested, such as candles and playing cards for the children. As you walk toward the back of the shop, beginning your count of products there, the shop bell dings and you hear boots stomping from whoever has stepped through the door.

“Just a moment, please,” you call out to the customer from over your shoulder, hoping not to lose track of the count in your head.

“Please, do not rush, Sunflower,” a gentle, familiar voice replies and you feel your heart thumping faster in your chest now as you turn quickly, inventory be damned.

“Ezra,” you greet the man standing meekly at the front of the shop. He takes a few steps forward to meet you beside the counter. “What brings you to town? Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Oh, no thank you, Sunflower. I needed to send a letter off at the post and thought that my day would be much brighter were I able to visit you as well,” he says with a soft grin and you lower your head to hide the bashful expression on your face.

“Well, my day has brightened now, too,” you reply, gaining the courage to look up at him again, the apples of his cheeks reddening. “I trust you were promptly taken care of then?”

“Yes, Mr. Williams is a kind man,” he nods. “The elderly woman who works there as well – she is quite the conversationalist,” he releases a soft laugh.

“Ah, yes. Mrs. Williams,” you shake your head. “She actually does not work there, just adores to be in the center of it all,” you jest and Ezra chuckles. “I do hope she was not too overbearing.”

“Only slightly,” he shrugs. “After you and your Pa, her and Mr. Williams have treated me the kindest since my arrival.”

“Oh Ezra,” you share a perturbed look. “I am truly sorry for the way the town has behaved.”

“Sunflower, you have no reason whatsoever to apologize for the actions of others. Unfortunately, this town has not been the most unpleasant I’ve come across. I was very lucky to have found you. And your Pa,” he rushes the last phrase and you smile knowingly, his mouth curving slightly as well.

You open your mouth to continue the conversation, the innocent coquetry between you, yet no sounds are released from your mouth before the shop bell dings again and you sigh at the interruption. You turn your head and your racing heart, caused by Ezra’s presence, races faster, only in anger now.

“And what do we have here?” Silas’s booming, uninvited voice resonates through the shop. “What business could a queer like you have to conduct in town?” He looks at Ezra and you step in front of him.

“I told you not to call him that, Silas.”

“It does not seem he’s made any purchase,” he says, making a show of looking in Ezra’s hands for any paper bag. “Yet he is allowed to stay and converse while you toss me in the dirt.”

“Go away, Silas.”

“Sunflower-” Ezra calls gently from behind you, unable to finish his thought.

“‘Sunflower’?!” Silas laughs. “She does not need a freak to endear her, not when she has a real man. Like me.”

“Silas, he is more of a man than you could ever hope to be,” you spit out.

Of all the times you had the opportunity to speak your mind to Silas, you held back. Though, now that it is directed to Ezra, you feel that innate protectiveness for him wash over you again, no matter the cost or consequence.

“You dare say such a thing to me, girl?” Silas takes a menacing step forward.

“She is not a girl and you will not speak to her as one,” Ezra moves to stand in front of you now. “And I do believe she has requested for you to take your leave.”

“And exactly who will force me out? You?” Silas puffs out his chest, as if he were attempting to assert his role as an alpha, and frustration grows on his face at Ezra’s lack of response to the tactic.

“If I must.” Ezra replies simply and calmly, the tone of his voice even, though underneath lies a hidden message that he would not back down from a brawl, if it were to come to that.

“Ezra, please, he isn’t worth it,” you say softly, reaching out to hold his forearm.

“Oh, aren’t I?” Silas scoffs.

“I will summon Sheriff Wilson here to collect you himself if you do not leave my shop right this instant,” you hold your unyielding gaze to Silas’s, raising your chin slightly so as to challenge him to defy your wishes.

Silas hmph’s, his thick brows arching menacingly as he glances down at where your hand rests firmly on Ezra’s arm, clearly displeased at the contact. You feel Ezra’s form tense next to you, and you use your free hand to lightly press against his back in an effort to calm him.

“Fine,” Silas finally says harshly as he turns his back to you and Ezra and stomps to the door.

He looks over his shoulder one more time at the two of you and something about his animalistic eyes sends a nasty shiver down your spine. Before he can see you falter, he rips the door open, walks through, and slams it shut, rattling the frame as he leaves. You exhale shakily and Ezra turns his body to face yours, his hands gripping onto your upper arms as his eyes rake over your face in concern.

“Are you alright, Sunflower?”

“Oh Ezra,” you gaze at him thoughtfully. “It should be me asking you that same question.”

“Please, don’t worry about me. My only concern is you,” he continues, his eyes trying to follow yours as you look away from him. “Does he come here unannounced often? Has he bothered you before?”

“Ezra, he has always been a thorn in my side, but it is nothing for you to concern yourself with. I promise,” you look in his eyes, hoping to convince him, but you suspect it does not work and his hands fall from your arms.

“Sunflower… I did not appreciate the way he looked at you and spoke to you.”

“It’s alright Ezra, it is not anything I can’t handle,” you smile and grasp one of his hands in both of yours, squeezing it gently as reassurance.

You’re unsure of what to say. What could you say? That up until now you have been cowardly when it came to Silas Taylor? That it was not until Ezra’s arrival to town that you have come to know a stronger side of yourself, willing to risk your already frail reputation to defend this man’s name?

Ezra sighs heavily, staring into your eyes a moment longer before looking away. You watch his eyebrows crinkle together, the worry wrinkles along his forehead becoming more prominent as he reflects on the situation that just passed.

“Are you alright? Please… Do not take anything he says to heart,” you say softly and your kind voice pulls him back from his thoughts and to this moment with you. He smirks and huffs a chuckle through his nose.

“No fear, Sunflower. It is not a trial I cannot handle,” he cocoons your hands in both of his and squeezes lightly, as if to reassure you he is alright. “I will go now, Sunflower.”

“I understand,” you nod. “Then… I will see you back at the farm for supper.”

He smiles to acknowledge your words, releasing your hands and heading to the door. He turns once more to nod his goodbye, places his hat back on his head, and walks out the door. You walk to the front of the shop to watch him through the window, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped forward as he walks swiftly to leave the area.

Your head feels on fire, ready to blow steam at any moment as you watch the townspeople around staring at him. They turn to each other, presumably whispering gossip amongst themselves about him. Unfortunately, as you have come to know Silas, you know he will be spreading word of the ‘threat’ he felt from Ezra, which you surmise will only result in the townspeople turning their backs on Ezra even further.

~MAY TWELFTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Ezra had not shown up for supper that night or the night that followed. You had wanted to take supper to him, but Pa advised against it. He had heard on his last trip to town what transpired between you, Ezra, and Silas. You prepared yourself to, once again, defend Ezra, however, Pa’s unabated rancor of Silas all but guaranteed Pa would not believe a word from his mouth.

Pa informed you that when he returned and asked Ezra about the situation, he assured the man that he was not at risk of losing the job at the farm, and while he was grateful, he did not wish to speak on it further. Pa told you to leave him to gather his bearings and you complied.

On your way to the oak tree, you pick two apples as you had done the Sunday prior, and to your earnest disappointment, you do not see Ezra as the tree comes into view. You look left, then right, hoping it was possible he had just walked along the riverbank, but you were alone.

Heaving a sigh, you turn to face the way you came as you debate on heading back. Your weekly tradition almost seemed silly to continue alone, after having been in Ezra’s company the past few weeks. It almost felt...incorrect to spend time here without Ezra now. You take a few steps forward, now under the shade of the tree, sparing another moment in case you missed him.

“Sunflower,” his elated voice from above frightens you and you quickly turn your head to follow the sound, seeing his bright smile from where he sits on a thick branch.

“Ezra! You startled me!” You chuckle as you take a few breaths, covering your racing heart with your hand.

“My apologies,” he chuckles. “I did not hear you walk up otherwise I would have made my presence known sooner.”

“I did not expect to see you in the tree today,” you smile up at him.

“Come, join me,” he smiles, patting the bark to the side of him.

“I have not climbed a tree since I was a child, Ezra. I will fall,” you shake your head.

“I will never let you fall, Sunflower,” he smiles and your now settled heart begins to race again. “It’s simple, really. Nothing to it. I will guide your steps.”

You take a deep breath, pondering for a moment if the risk was truly worth it, but there’s an excitement in this small adventure that you feel your soul reaching for. You smile at Ezra and nod, removing your bag and placing it at the base of the tree.

You follow Ezra’s voice commands as he tells you where to step up and you use more muscles in your body than you have in so long. You heave yourself upwards, careful that your boots do not miss any section of the tree that will have you flying all the way back down.

Finally, you make it far enough for Ezra to take hold of your arm, using his strength now to help pull you up until you’re close enough to attempt to sit. He scoots over, keeping his hand tightly grasped on your arm to make sure you don’t fall. Though, at this point, if you were to fall, Ezra would certainly fall with you.

You plant your bottom firmly onto the branch, breathing heavily and smiling widely at the accomplishment and Ezra chuckles along with you. You try to settle yourself further and suddenly get the sense of falling, reaching out instinctively to hold onto Ezra’s arm and you practically glue yourself to his side for support.

“You will not fall, Sunflower,” he reassures and you feel him lean closer into you to comfort you.

“Pardon me,” you giggle, feeling steady enough now to remove yourself from him. You take a deep breath and look out ahead at the river and the grassland, spotting the other farms in the distance. “Wow,” you say breathlessly. “It’s a beautiful sight.”

“Yes, it is,” Ezra responds softly. You turn your head to him where you already meet his gaze and turn away again as you smile.

“Oh no,” you gasp as your eyes meet your bag down below. “I left the book… And the apples,” you turn to frown at Ezra.

“Do not fret, Sunflower,” he smiles. “I enjoy your company regardless.”

“Maybe...you could read me more of your prose?” You prod gently, hoping he will be willing.

“Yes,” he says wistfully as he glances down at his journal. “I do like when you read to me, however.”

You smile as he passes his journal to you and you cradle it with care in your hands. You move to open it and the binding opens automatically to one page, clearly still stiff from where he had it open, this addition to the pages only written just recently. You clear your throat and let your eyes dance as they pick up the words in his neat handwriting.

“‘A being from a different universe desires to live amongst the men in peace on Earth, for his purpose to be written in the stars. A nomad, an outcast on the run, desperate for a residence more suitable than his dreams. Soon, he will find home, and soon, he will find life’,” your voice trails towards the end of the passage, your heart wrenching at the meaning behind it.

“Ezra…” You call softly once you notice his head has lowered.

The silence stretches and you can almost visualize it expanding across the lands in front of your view, any helpful or comforting words escaping from your reach. The only conclusion your mind seems to come to is just to place a hand softly on his thigh. You feel his muscle twitch at the contact and he glances over at you, a light tint of pink beginning to spread across his cheeks.

You suddenly feel embarrassed to have placed your hand there and you immediately think to yourself that perhaps it was not welcomed, though before you can remove your hand, Ezra places his own, large and warm, over yours. Your mind settles while your heart beats rapidly. You still do not know what to say, but it does not seem Ezra is expecting for you to say anything at all.

“I’ve missed you at supper, Ezra,” you whisper and grin softly.

“Forgive me for my absence, I was not… I did not feel…” You sense him struggling as he lowers his head again and you place your other hand on top of your intertwined ones.

“I understand; you have no need to apologize.”

He looks at you again and you give him a reassuring smile and he returns the gesture. You two say nothing and let the comfortable silence blanket the air around you while you gaze out to your surroundings again, your hands not leaving each other’s grasp.

“Sunflower?” He calls and you turn to face him again.

“Yes, Ezra?”

“I’ve missed you as well.”

Chapter Four || Chapter Six

Series || Main || Taglist || AO3

Tags: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @asta-lily @honeymandos @pascalpanic @aliwritesfic @mandocrasis @hnt-escape @winter-fox-queen @sarahjkl82-blog @day-off-inkyoto @pedrocentric @astoryisaloveaffair @amandalovess @foli-vora @lucrezia-thoughts @chasingdreamer @quica-quica-quica @pedro4ever @mishasminion360 @wardenparker @librariantothejedi @fan-of-encouragement @javierpinme @writeforfandoms @ew-erin @you-got-me-starry-eyed @beskarboobs @andiesturgss @maryfanson @princessxkenobi @castleamc @magpie-to-the-morning @pbeatriz @radiowallet @stevie75 @honestly-shite @bison-writes @amneris21 @disgruntledspacedad

Ezra Prospect Tags: @quietpainter @grogusmum @tenderwhat

[stars-are-just-ghosts]

Supernatural Isn’t Just A Show

I started watching Supernatural fifteen years ago, just like many of you. I followed the paths of two young men who hunted the evils in the world that the rest of us couldn’t have imagined on a good day. Vampires and demons and monsters. Greek gods, angels, Lucifer himself. The stories were heartfelt and humorous and dark and tender. They challenged us to see that monsters could be good, and being evil was a choice. They brought us into a reality of hope and fighting the whole world if it meant that your family was safe.

That’s what the show was really about, you see. The hunting and the laughter and the dark and everything in between was just the icing on the cake. The real story? That was family. Two brothers who came together and saved the world, again and again. Two brothers who fought side by side, and sometimes with each other, and always for what was right, even if the drawn line was hard to see. Two brothers whose devotion bled into the world around them and brought other amazing people into the fold. Two brothers who grew to have a circle of people who were the epitome of family, because ‘family don’t end with blood.’  Castiel and Charlie and Bobby and Kevin and Crowley and Jack and the list goes on. A list that extended beyond the characters, beyond the actors, beyond the show itself. One that includes you, me... JoAnn and Steven and Jeffrey.

Let me tell you about JoAnn.

Her daughter and I went to school together, a beautiful young woman named Sarah. Over the years I spent so much time at their house and with JoAnn that it was beyond easy to see them as family. And JoAnn became incredibly special to me. My mother and I have always had a strained, tumultuous relationship with very little in the way of affection. JoAnn, however, became the emotional mother I’d never had. We would laugh together (she had a killer sense of humor,) I would call her just to share something or vent (there was never a moment she wasn’t willing to listen,) she was able to hold all four of my babies after they were born (and they lovingly called her Auntie JoAnn.) And I even managed to get her addicted to Supernatural. 

She loved Dean, especially Dean’s rear end. (-wiggles brows-) 

Shortly before her first and only grandson was born, JoAnn became terminally ill and passed away. She never got to see her grandson, or hold him, or watch him grow up. I think about that all the time, especially when I see a picture of him that Sarah has posted. When I’m watching Supernatural, and Dean says something familiar or I remember a moment in the show that JoAnn particularly loved, I think about JoAnn and how much I wish she could have seen her grandbaby. And how much I wish her daughter, the lovely Sarah, could have experienced that, too. I wonder if JoAnn would have shared this show with her adorable little grandson. I miss that woman every day.

Now, let me tell you about Steven.

His father, Steve, is one of my best friends. I’ve known him for over twenty years. And when his three children were little, I used to babysit them. His son, Steven, was born with severe Cerebral Palsy. He was nonverbal, wheelchair bound, and was tube fed. But he was also the funniest, brightest, most happy boy I’d ever met. He had the most brilliant smile, and the greatest laugh. And whenever someone he loved or really liked walked into a room, his eyes would light up like stars. 

When Steven hit adulthood, I would help his Dad out when Steven was at his house. We liked to watch movies and tv shows together. And I offered up the suggestion of Supernatural. It became like tradition after that. We would all be there in the living room, Steven on the floor with his Dad, and we’d watch the episodes in order. It always made me happy, to be able to share that with them. 

About four years ago, Steven became ill, landing in the hospital. While there, his heart gave out. He passed away without ever having finished the show he had grown to love. Since then, his Dad hasn’t been able to watch anymore. It’s too painful. Too hard to think that Steven isn’t there to watch it with him. I understand completely. Because I’ll watch an old episode and remember Steven’s unabashed laughter. And I wish he was still here to watch it with us. I talked with Steve about giving it another try. He heard the show is ending soon, and I think he is finally ready to see it through, to finish it for both himself and his son. Let me tell you about Jeffrey.

Jeffrey has lived in NYC for over 20 years now. He is my big brother, and was diagnosed with different mental illnesses, including Borderline Personality Disorder. He’s still made a life for himself that makes him happy in a place I know for sure I would never survive in. (I’m a small town girl, through and through.) And it was because of my brother that I found out about GISHWHES. 

You have to understand, my brother doesn’t open up to people easily or step out of his comfort zone for just anyone or anything. But in doing this scavenger hunt? My brother walked around NYC in a robot costume, including taking the subway and walking crowded streets. He also wore a bikini made of lettuce, and not once was shy about it. He dove right in and gave it his all in order to help other people, and to this day I am still insanely proud of him for it. 

After everything he went through, from living on the subway for nearly two years (and never telling us) to going from corporate work (which he hated) to doing something he really loved (comic books, baby) to being hospitalized for suicidal tendencies to finally being diagnosed with things he had struggled with all his life but never had taken care of, and finally having a sense of mental health in a new job as a live-in dog nanny, this amazing man is finally happy. And when I think of that, I think of the video of him wandering around dressed as a robot because of GISHWHES.  Now, if you’ll bare with me... let me tell you about myself.

I am a pansexual woman married to my best friend with four amazing children. 

I have depression and anger issues that I have struggled most of life with. 

I have spent a good chunk of my adult life being a stay-at-home-mom and only now am going back to school to learn a new career. I have rescued and taken care of animals since I was 17, something my children have grown to love as well. And I am happier now than I have ever been. But it wasn’t always that way.

I had my best friend die in my arms when I was 12, that being my first experience with death and grief and unchecked anger. And I grew up a lonely kid who spent most of my time hiding how depressed I was, doing everything I could to take care of everyone else in my life, the majority of them never knowing how much I actually struggled with just living. The first love of my life was killed in a car accident when I was 16. My parents divorced when I was 17 and I dropped out of high school, working three jobs just so I wouldn’t be home with my mother. 

I was married to a selfish and controlling man at 18, had my first child at 19, second at 20, third at 23, and divorced at 23 with three small children and no job. I was terrified and didn’t know what I was going to do. Everything was up and down and inside out.

But I have a very clear memory of sitting down one night, after the kids had gone to sleep and the apartment was quiet and I was alone with nothing but my thoughts and the television… and a repeat episode of Supernatural (Season 2, Episode 16 – Roadkill) was on. (Spoilers ahead if you, by chance, have not seen this episode.)

In that moment, I was barely paying attention to it. I was a wreck, filled with guilt and fear. My face was covered in tears, and I was sobbing as I sat there and rocked with a pillow held in my grip (I oddly remember that pillow vividly because it had rough edges.) But as the episode progressed, I began to quiet. I remember listening intently to Sam and Molly as they sat on an old bed in Greeley’s home, looking at the letters he’d written to his wife. 

“It’s a love letter he wrote her… my God, it’s beautiful… I don’t understand how a guy like this can turn into a monster.” Molly said to Sam. I mirrored that sentiment, in my own way. (I know my situation wasn’t the same.) I’d married a man I’d thought I’d loved. A man I thought loved me. But his actions and selfishness lead to the downfall of our marriage, our family, and my (then) situation. But I had been the one to make the decision to end things, right? After everything he’d done, I couldn’t be with someone I couldn’t trust. And it wasn’t just about me… it was about our children. They needed a mother who was happy…

At the end of the episode, Molly is faced with the reality that she has been dead the entire time and that her husband David had already said his goodbyes, moving on without her.

“What am I supposed to do?” Molly asked, in tears.

“Just… let go. Of David. Of everything. You do that… we think you’ll move on.” Sam responded gently.

Isn’t that what I should be doing? I thought. Because by that point, I’d been stuck in grief and fear for months. I don’t think I knew it until that point, but I’d been holding onto it like a security blanket because it made sense, it seemed like I deserved it.

“But you don’t know where…” Molly responded, her voice still soft with tears.

“No... Molly, you don’t belong here. Haven’t you suffered long enough?” Sam asked. “It’s time… it’s time to go.”

I sat there in stunned silence. 

As odd as it sounds, it felt like he was talking to me. Because for years I’d tried to keep our marriage together because I thought I had to for our children. For years, I’d practically raised those three children alone. For months, I had sat in a holding pattern, waiting for my shoulders to finally break under all the weight from the failure I felt and the misery I was drowning in, doing everything I could to be a good mother with nothing to fall back on. But then I watched Molly walk into the light, tears streaming down her face, a smile ghosting across her lips, and I realized… I really had suffered long enough.

“You really think she’s going to a better place?” Dean asked after Molly moved on.

“I hope so.” Sam replied.

“I guess we’ll never know, not until we take the plunge ourselves, huh?” Dean said with half a smirk.

“Doesn’t really matter, Dean. Hope’s kind of the whole point.” Sam said.

And there it was. What I’d been missing. Hope. 

This show, these two actors, those two brothers opened my eyes to something that had been right in front of me the whole time. I didn’t know what the future would bring, I didn’t know what I was going to do next. But I was certain I had suffered enough. I was certain I needed to move on, for my children, for myself. And as the episode ended, I wiped my tears off my face, shut off the tv and kissed every one of my sleeping children a few dozen times. And I went to bed thinking about the depiction of that light, that hope.

Two years later, I married my best friend – the love of my life, a good man who never lies, never hurts me or my kids, lifts me up when I feel down, makes me laugh every day, treats me far better than I will ever think I deserve. We had a baby boy together, bringing our family to a total of four amazing kids who all call him Dad. We have our own home which we work so hard for, we have a plethora of animals who make every day adventurous, and I am finally on a career track I feel excited about. All because I decided to stop living in my suffering, and move on.

That is why this show is not ‘just a show.’ For me, anyway. Because of JoAnn and Steven and Jeffrey. Because of the hope I found with the show itself. And I know I am not alone in at least this sentiment.

Every season since, I have watched the episodes. I have followed the stories and witnessed the amazing things this fandom has done for each other and complete strangers. I have seen people’s lives changed by the show and the actors, I have been able to connect with other people I never would have known, and get closer to those I already did. I have shared this series with my children, who all love it and the main characters as much as I do.

And right now, as we get near the end of the series, I am not ashamed to admit that I am hurting. I feel a genuine heartache. A genuine loss. I feel like a part of my history is coming to a close. But like at that moment when my world was inside out and I was trapped in my own little hell, I have hope. 

I don’t know what waits for me. I never have. I don’t know what awaits any of us. But this show will never really die. The connections we’ve made, the way the stories and people have touched us… that never really goes away. 

Whether we watch Supernatural on repeat on a bad day, or follow the actors as they move on to new adventures, or get someone in our life to start watching it, this show will always be around. Just like hope. And… isn’t it like Sam said? “Hope’s kind of the whole point.”

So, hold on to hope. And message me if you’re grieving, if you need an ear from a fellow fan, or just someone to shoot Supernatural memes back and forth with. We’re a family. You, me, all of us. And I’ll always be here for you.

(P.S. I will ship Destiel till the bitter end.)

Love,

QuietDarkness (stars-are-just-ghosts)

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Zehra Sandalci AGE & BIRTH DATE. 487 & April 9th, 1534 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her SPECIES. Succubus OCCUPATION. Owner of Acanthus Mollis FACE CLAIM. Burcu Özberk

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: infanticide, murder, suicide, miscarriage ) In the height of the Ottoman Empire, a girl was born. One of five, Zehra found herself constantly striving to have her voice heard amongst the rabble. She was a pretty child— it was often remarked upon as she walked behind her mother’s skirts in the market, or clung onto her brother’s sleeve, and while she seemed to have little talent for anything else; that in itself would get her far. Her other sisters, comely but clever, they likely would never see the same promise that Zehra Sandalci held in her tiny, unmarked hand. Her mother favoured her, and it earned the ire of her siblings, leaving them to mark her with wicked purple pinch marks when she wasn’t looking— Zehra was always crying, her family remarked, watching her heavy lashes fringe with tears, commenting on her lack of resolve. It would be alright, as things often were, because she was beautiful and that was currency more than strength.

She grew into a charming young woman, with a lightness to her soul of a creature who had never known any burdens: the spoon in her mouth was not silver, but it was honey coated and for as long as she was under the care of her family, her life was sweet. Constantinople was at the time, a center of the universe and the rule over the Mediterranean basin drew in several visitors from near and far, all with their own intentions. Zehra found them fascinating, walking along to the harbour to spy on new ships and unfamiliar faces. It was there that she had met Magnus, a sailor from Rome. He promised her a thousand pretty things, telling her of the place that he had been born, of his family and his life. Zehra was young and easily enamoured, taking his hand easily despite her own family’s protest, smiling as he promised to wed her in Rome. She would have a new life there, rich with his love and promises and as she stepped onto one of the ships she had watched come into the harbour, she bid Constantinople goodbye.

Rome had not been everything that Magnus had described, but the newness of it all was enough for his curious young bride, and Zehra was delighted to learn the language and customs. She flourished under the weight of compliments about her beauty, and the warmth of her new husband’s large family. It was in Rome that she outgrew her childhood, stretching long limbs and racing into being a woman. Cracks began to show in her marriage and foolish love after only half a year; when Magnus’ anger slipped out after she broke a dish and failed to prepare a foreign meal correctly. He was more animal than man, she realized, horrified as his normally dark eyes flashed a shade of what she could only describe as amber. His words had been snarled, he had bared his teeth, and Zehra had shrunk away, murmuring a thousand apologies. It began to happen more often, and she started to notice the howls around the house; the carelessness in her husband as he left the windows open despite the beasts that roamed beneath them. She was frightened, she confessed to him once, and he laughed with teeth that seemed to end at sharp points. She didn’t know what she should be afraid of, he had returned, leaving her shaking.

It was under the weight of a full moon that she followed her husband out of their home in the dead of night, trailing behind him quietly in the woods to see where it was that he was going. Zehra was alone in a country that she did not know, if he was no longer to be trusted, she would find herself without anything at all. Later, she realized, he must have known that she was there and yet he let her lay witness to the horrific sight: a man became beast under the moon, after a cacophony of breaking bones and shredding flesh, where the Roman had once stood, instead was a wolf bigger than any she had ever seen in her life, with hot breath and claws that gouged cruelly into the earth. Zehra screamed, and it chased her through the woods, cruel at her heels, leaving her crying out and her skin ripped apart by vines and brambles before she finally made her way home, locking a door to a sound that was distinctly like laughter.

He had come home in the early morning, slipping into their bed and whispering fondly by her ear that she now knew his secret, what he was entirely. Magnus spoke as though he carried the strength of a god, but as she shook under the covers, she saw him as nothing more than a monster. It was to the gods that she turned to, finding her way to the ancient temples of Rome, seeking out their infinite wisdom. Zehra had never intended to become devout, for her restless feet to carry her so often to praise, but it was there that she found comfort from a life that had become a nightmare.

It was only a few months after he had told her that he was a werewolf that he decided that he wanted a family of his own. Zehra, purposeless and alone most days, welcomed the idea– a child to raise as her own, and selfishly she saw it as an opportunity to have a companion, something to do besides stitch together Magnus’ ruined clothing. Pregnancy followed soon after, and it was in those months that she was almost convinced that she had imagined her husband’s rage– he became something domesticated and docile, laying his cheek against the swell of her stomach, fondly drawing his hand over her tired face. They were in love again and she was foolish enough to convince herself of such, darting into his arms and ignoring blood that stained the hems of his clothing. Such illusions are made to be shattered and when the child came, Zehra was filled with joy and love as she greeted her son, his name was to be Selim, after her favourite brother– but these moments of warmth were shadowed by Magnus’ inevitable rage.

He had wished for a child that would carry his genetics, another werewolf that would continue his legacy, but instead she had borne a human boy, perfect in his own right, but inadequate to his standards. She slept blissfully, with his small body tucked in beside hers and in the night Magnus stole him away to the woods where his end was met, cold and alone with his tiny cries left unheard by his mother. When she awoke, devastation overtook Zehra, whose rose coloured glasses had shattered and left gouges in flesh grown soft. It was her new gods that she sought comfort in, spending more and more time tucked in the temples praying to gods of old for freedom from a life that had brought her only sadness, and only suffering.

It was Bona Dea that heard her cries and the ancient goddess reached towards her, offering a bargain that she could not so easily refuse: anything in the world that she could ever want, and in return: the goddess would own her soul. Zehra, still raw with grief, made the bargain readily. She would never have children again, and the goddess assured her of it before they parted ways. To be spoken to by a deity made her feel chosen, it brought warmth back to her days and the promise of new horizons, the fact that a goddess had heard her felt like something: until Magnus undoubtedly shattered what joy she had scraped together meagerly from her life.

The goddess had been true to her word and she was never to bear a child again– her next pregnancy never made full term and the child, Zehra had noted as she sobbed, had been human: another insult to her husband and his desire for a pure blood line. It was shortly after that he decided that the only way to ensure that the gene carried on was for her to become a werewolf as well, something he began to plan with the pack: something ceremonious and grand, to make his imported wife into something even more valuable. Night terrors gripped Zehra as she imagined what it would be like to become one of the monsters in the woods, to shed her human skin in favour of something beast-like and terrible, and to taste blood on her teeth. Bona Dea had told her one thing for certain, and she would not easily forget it: their bargain could only be struck while she was human, mortal as she had been born.

It was in the woods where her Selim had passed that she too tossed away her life, plunging a blade into her heart as she saw Magnus thundering in her direction: Zehra smiled before he could reach her. It was the goddess that reached for her hand when her spirit faded from the earth, and it was she who had tucked her soul into her possession, taking it before she gestured for the newly born succubus to return to the earth. Magnus was shocked to see his wife walking into their family home after watching her crumple into the golden leaves of fall. He was further shocked to see the warmth that she regarded him with, and the charm that she radiated: all things of which had faded from their relationship long ago.

Zehra stole the first portion of his soul that night, and more of it the next, until what remained of it was just a miserable scraping around his hollow chest– her husband took his own life not long after. The life of a cubi began this way, with her first whispers of freedom. It was a large world, brave and new and all of it sat in her capable hands. Roaming and travelling became a priority, and she saw the dawn of new ports and lands, and briefly returned to her own home in Turkey. She had outlived her own family and much of the great empire had changed, leaving nothing for her to cling onto: there were no ties binding her to such a place and the succubus took her leave.

Europe became her playground and where she was one hesitant and docile, a wicked streak brewed darkly in her. It was a curse to be what she was, but as she roamed the cobbled streets of new cities, she felt goddess-blessed, stealing adoration from willing lips, tearing homes and families apart with the promise of swift death. She felt like an angel at times, one who brought the promise of neither life nor blessing. It was, at times, a lonely existence: reminiscent of the years that she had spent married, but instead of sorrow, Zehra indulged in her own games, finding amusement in them and basking in love from her victims. Genuine adoration came in the hands of other supernaturals that passed her by– she built connections and paths to those who passed through her life like scars over warred skin, and as the years inched by, she flourished.

It was a new-found ability that brought her to Greece, a tear in the veil that drew her like a moth to a flame. Memories, she could pluck them from a mind with ease, holding them in her chest until she saw fit to return them– if she saw fit to return them. The source of such power sat in the city and it has been since then that she has revelled in it, continuing her games with a wide smile and dark, wicked eyes. To feed off of a soul is to feed off of adoration, to revel in pure lust, in what she could almost close her eyes and see to be something akin to love. Memories from those who are unwilling to give her all of their devotion are her prize, stolen from their minds as she takes parts of their soul; peeling away family, lovers, friends, until there is nothing that remains but her– Zehra, infinite and unstoppable. It is like this that she roams Corinth, seeking out her next victim and her next game to win.

PERSONALITY

+ adaptable, wily, charming - sycophantic, jealous, loquacious

PLAYED BY SAM. EST. She/Her.

[scrumptioushottubinfluencer]

Er Emergency Room Season 1

Susan Lewis, MDFirst appearanceSeptember 19, 1994 (1x01, '24 Hours')Last appearanceApril 2, 2009 (15x22, 'And In The End')Portrayed bySherry StringfieldDuration1994–96, 2001–05, 2009In-universe informationNicknameSusieTitle

Resident (1994–1996)

Attending (2001–2005)

Chief of Emergency Medicine (2003–2005)

OccupationEmergency PhysicianFamily

Henry Lewis (father)

Irene “Cookie” Lewis (mother, deceased)

Chloe Lewis (sister)

SpouseChuck Martin (ex-husband)Significant otherDiv Cvetic (ex-boyfriend)ChildrenCosmo Martin (son, with Chuck)RelativesSuzie Lewis (niece)

Emergency Room

Hospital Er Rooms

Susan Lewis is a character as played by Sherry Stringfield, on the fictional television show ER. Sherry Stringfield is one of ER's original cast members, portraying Susan in Season 1 as an eager resident. Stringfield left the show, the character was not recast and Susan left County General Hospital and the series in Season 3, but. ER Confidential November 17, 1994. Season 1, Episode 10. November 17, 1994. Cvetic (John Terry) struggles with a growing sense of hatred toward his patients; Hathaway faces an ethical crisis.

Dr. Susan Lewis is a character as played by Sherry Stringfield, on the fictional television showER.

Sherry Stringfield is one of ER's original cast members, portraying Susan in Season 1 as an eager resident. Stringfield left the show, the character was not recast and Susan left County General Hospital and the series in Season 3, but Stringfield and the character returned five seasons later as an attending physician in Season 8. Susan Lewis eventually checked out of the ER for good in 2005, at the beginning of Season 12, having been passed over for tenure in favor of John Carter by Kerry Weaver. She was offered a tenured position at a hospital in Iowa City.

Development[edit]

During the third season of the series, actress Sherry Stringfield left ER for the first time. In an interview with the Chicago Tribune, Stringfield explained that having a family was one of the primary reasons for her to leave the show.[1] According to Entertainment Weekly, Stringfield's decision to quit angered the show's executive producer John Wells, because she left just as Dr. Lewis got embroiled in a budding romance with Anthony Edwards' Dr. Mark Greene.[2] Stringfield revealed it was not a pleasant situation and said: 'The producers were in shock. They tried to talk me out of it. It took a long time to get out of my contract.'[3]

However, by the time of the eighth season, her schedule allowed her to return to the series. Wells said they were 'delighted to welcome her back as a series regular and can't wait to work with her again.'[1] Stringfield remained in the main cast for four more seasons, until August 2005, when she announced that she would be leaving ER again and stated: 'I am extremely grateful for the time I spent on ER,' Stringfield explained. 'It is a wonderful show, and there are so many people I will miss. But I'm ready for new roles and new challenges.'[4]

Character history[edit]

Seasons 1–3 First Departure (1994–1996)[edit]

In Season 1, Susan is a second year resident. She is shown to be an eager and competent young doctor working in the emergency department of County General Hospital. She is good friends with Nurse Carol Hathaway, Dr. Doug Ross and especially Dr. Mark Greene, who is her best friend.

Though an extremely capable doctor, Susan is initially seen to have problems asserting herself. This is frequently taken advantage of by the senior and more forthright doctors in the hospital, such as Dr. Peter Benton and particularly Dr. Jack Kayson. This leads to several confrontations, and animosity worsens when Kayson discharges one of Susan's patients, failing to notice the severity of his symptoms, which ultimately leads to the patient's death.

Kayson tries to deflect the blame onto Susan and her competence is questioned. Her superior, Mark, is forced to monitor her every move and their friendship is put under strain as a result. During the case review, however, the board rules in Susan's favor and reprimands Kayson—much to his chagrin.

Shortly after, Kayson is rushed into hospital suffering from a heart attack. Despite their past disagreement on the issue, Kayson opts for Susan's non-invasive form of treatment against the advice of a senior doctor, who (like Kayson) is an advocate of surgical angioplasty. Finally asserting herself, Susan stands her ground and refuses to allow Kayson to be treated surgically. Following his recovery, Kayson shows his gratitude by asking Susan to be his valentine date, which she awkwardly declines.

Susan's personal life is far less settled than her professional one. In Season 1, she is seen to have a brief relationship with psychiatrist Div Cvetic, who ultimately has a nervous breakdown and disappears. Susan later learns that he married someone he met through a dating service, run by a taxi driver from his cab.

Most of her problems, however, are family-related. Susan's parents, Cookie and Henry, are shown to be flighty (her father is jokingly referred to as a test pilot for Barcalounger) and difficult to talk to. Her older sister, Chloe, is the source of most of her distress, with a seemingly never ending series of problems with alcohol, drugs, men, and money. Chloe eventually has a baby girl, who she names Susan ('Little Susie') after her sister. During Season 2 however, Chloe begins to use alcohol and drugs once again. After deciding that she cannot look after her baby, she leaves Chicago, abandoning Susie on a flustered and overworked Susan.

Susan as she appeared in 1996.

She struggles to be a good mother to the child while completing her demanding residency. Already overstressed, Susan clashes with the new Chief Resident, Kerry Weaver, numerous times, forcing Mark Greene to step in between them. Animosity between Kerry and Susan lessens over time, but never goes away completely. Realizing that Chloe may never return, Susan considers giving Susie up for adoption. She gets as far as introducing the baby to potential adoptive parents, but cannot bring herself to part with her niece, so she decides to keep her and adopt the child as her own.

Susan grows extremely attached to the baby, but she gets a surprise when a reformed Chloe reappears later in the season and tries to reclaim 'little Susie'. Susan can't see past Chloe's mistakes, regardless of her recent turnaround and new responsible boyfriend. Desperate to keep the baby, Susan attempts to fight Chloe for custody, but is forced to reconsider when the judge warns her that she would lose. Susan begrudgingly reaches an agreement with her sister, and after regaining custody of 'little Susie', Chloe moves her family to Phoenix, Arizona to start a new life.

Susan struggles to cope with the loss of her niece and goes through a period of grief and counseling. She throws herself into her work to escape her feelings of loneliness, which manages to impress Weaver and, with Mark's encouragement, Kerry agrees to offer Susan the position of chief resident (she promises to support Susan's promotion if Mark recommends her as County's new attending physician). Much of the ER staff hoped Susan could achieve that title, but Susan turns the position down, later telling Mark that there is more to life than work.

Setting up Sherry Stringfield's departure from the series in Season 3, the beginnings of a romance appears to develop between Susan and Mark, or more to the point, they are shown to have problems identifying their current relationship as friendship. Both seem timid and cautious around each other. Initially more upfront about the situation, Susan invites Mark to join her on holiday in Maui, Hawaii, but is embarrassed when he appears hesitant, and later retracts the offer, feeling she overstepped a boundary.

Fearful that he may have missed his chance with Susan, Mark attempts to convey his attraction towards her upon her return, though he cannot find the courage to follow through and is left perplexed by Susan's reticence. It transpires that Susan never actually made it to Maui, she instead visited her sister and 'little Susie' in Phoenix as she could not overcome her fear of flying. Mark helps her overcome this fear in the following episode ('Fear of Flying'), supporting her during a helicopter flight rotation where they are called upon to treat victims of a serious motor accident.

As they grow closer, Mark finally plucks up the courage to casually ask Susan out, however she declines, telling him that they 'need to talk'. Shortly after, Mark witnesses Susan in numerous secret talks with the ER's chief of emergency medicine, David Morgenstern, and concludes that they are seeing each other. He confronts Susan, but she reveals that Morgenstern was merely helping her to transfer her residency. Desperately missing her niece, Susan had made the decision to move to Phoenix to be near her sister's family.

During a hectic last day for Susan at County's ER, Mark struggles with her imminent departure, but still finds himself afraid to admit his true feelings for her. The hospital staff arrange a leaving party for Susan, but it is canceled due to an influx of critical patients from a motoring accident. Susan leaves the hospital unable to say goodbye to Mark, who was busy working on a trauma patient. He manages to arrive just as her train is about to depart (episode 'Union Station). Mark pleads with her to stay because he loves her. But Susan doesn't see a future in Chicago or with him. She kisses him and says 'I love you, too' as the train departs.

Seasons 8–12 and second departure (2001–2005)[edit]

Susan returns during Season 8 as she left, shown to arrive on a train into Chicago to interview for a job. Susan visits County General for the first time in 5 years and sees the hospital has changed as well as the faces. She meets Mark for coffee and reveals that Chloe has moved on to another city, and she has decided that she can't follow her sister's family around forever. Mark offers her a job as an attending physician at County General, despite Kerry Weaver's reservations – the two never got along when they worked together before.

Susan returns to County (2001).

During Season 8 Susan has a brief relationship with Dr. John Carter after they both admit that they had a crush on each other when he was a medical student and she was a resident – it doesn't last, as Susan realizes in the episode Secrets and Lies, that Carter is really in love with Abby Lockhart. She then tells Carter to 'tell her' about his feelings. The two both break up on good terms and remain good friends throughout the rest of her career at County. Her problems with Chloe resurface when her niece Susie goes missing in New York after leaving a distressing voicemail message on her aunt's phone. Susan flies to New York (in a crossover with Third Watch) and discovers Chloe doped up, sleeping rough. Towards the end of the season, Susan faces one of her most difficult story lines, as her best friend Mark Greene reveals to her that his brain tumor has returned. The two rekindled their close friendship as she helps him come to terms with his diagnosis. Susan is alluded to in Mark's goodbye letter in 'The Letter' when Mark comments that he had to leave the way he did, even though there were things of a more personal nature to say. After her best friend's death, Susan warmed up to other friendships in the ER with Abby Lockhart and Elizabeth Corday, and was able to work better with her old colleague Kerry Weaver. Dr. Romano, who actually respected her (he once told another doctor to get Dr. Lewis when he had a medical emergency, calling her 'the least annoying person down there'), also promoted her to Deputy Chief of Emergency Medicine much to Kerry Weaver's dismay.

Into Season 9, Susan meets a flight nurse named Chuck Martin (played by Donal Logue) on a plane to Las Vegas. They both get drunk upon arrival and end up getting married in Vegas. They quickly have the marriage annulled once they return to Chicago, but eventually start dating again, and Susan becomes pregnant. She is finally promoted to the position of Chief of Emergency Medicine after Robert Romano dies in Season 10. While other pregnant characters had given birth on the show, at the time, Susan's was the first major birth offscreen, with her giving birth sometime between Seasons 10 and 11 (and being placed on bedrest amid concerns of preterm labor). Chuck ends up caring for their baby boy Cosmo as a stay-at-home parent while Susan works.

Into Season 11, Susan begins to build some anxiety about the upcoming tenure offer. It ultimately goes to her friend John Carter, due to her lack of grant funding, finally leading to her final exit from the series at the beginning of Season 12 in the episode 'Canon City'. Susan is offered a tenure track position at a hospital in Iowa City, Iowa (presumably University of Iowa). Technically, Stringfield was the first and last original cast member to leave the show. (Being the first to leave in 1996, then in 2005 after the rest of the original cast left.) This was later bested by Noah as he returned in the final season of E.R in 2009.

Season 15 Return in The End (2009)[edit]

In the season 15 episode 'The Book of Abby', long-serving nurse Haleh Adams shows the departing Abby Lockhart a closet wall where all the past doctors and employees have put their locker name tags. Amongst them, the tag 'Lewis' can be seen.

Dr. Susan Lewis returned for the series finale titled 'And in the End...',[5][6] returning to Chicago for the opening of The Carter Center. During evening drinks with Peter Benton, John Carter, Kerry Weaver, Elizabeth Corday, and Rachel Greene, Susan is heard confirming to Dr. Corday that she still lives in Iowa. Additionally, she states that she and Chuck have split and she is now dating again. She eventually returns to the ER for the last time in the series with Rachel Greene and Carter, where she visits and jokes with the staff, much to the annoyance of Dr. Banfield who interrupts the talk by asking Susan who she is.

Reception[edit]

Sherry Stringfield's decision to leave ER was a 'shock wave through Hollywood.'[7] According to Entertainment Weekly, people called Stringfield 'nuts' for leaving 'the hottest show on TV for some investment banker in New York.'[3]

Other officesPreceded by Robert Romano Chief of Emergency Medicine 2004–2005Succeeded by Luka Kovač

References[edit]

^ abVanessa Sibbald (2001). 'Why Sherry Stringfield has returned to `ER''. Chicago Tribune. Retrieved 2019-07-11.

^Kennedy, Dana (1997-10-17). 'Why I left ER, by Sherry Stringfield'. Entertainment Weekly. Retrieved 2007-02-24.

^ abKennedy, Dana (1997-10-17). 'Sherry Stringfield, the Goodbye Girl'. Entertainment Weekly.

^'Sherry Stringfield quits 'ER' Again'. Digital Spy. 2005-08-06. Retrieved 2007-04-12.

^Mickey O'Connor (2009). 'Sherry Stringfield Returning to ER'. TV Guide. Retrieved 2019-07-11.

^'Sherry Stringfield is Back!'. TV Guide. 2009-02-12. Retrieved 2009-02-12.

^'STRINGFIELD YEARNS FOR `NORMAL LIFE''. Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. 1996-11-22. Retrieved 2012-03-28.

Retrieved from 'https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Susan_Lewis&oldid=992148957'

Doug RossFirst appearanceSeptember 19, 1994 (1x01, '24 Hours')Last appearanceMarch 12, 2009 (15x19, 'Old Times')Portrayed byGeorge ClooneyDuration1994–1999, 2000, 2009In-universe informationFull nameDouglas RossNicknameDoug, DougieGenderMaleTitlePediatric Fellow (1994–1998) Pediatric Attending (1998–1999)OccupationPhysician, PediatricianFamilyRay Ross (father; deceased) Sarah Ross (mother)SpouseCarol Hathaway (wife)ChildrenKate Ross (daughter, with Carol) Tess Ross (daughter, with Carol)Born1962[1]

Dr. Douglas 'Doug' Ross is a fictional character from the television series ER, portrayed by George Clooney. George Clooney's removal from the main cast opening credits was in the 16th episode of season 5.

Plot[edit]

Doug Ross was raised by his mother, Sarah, after his father, Ray, abandoned their family. In Season 1, Ross revealed to a patient that he had a son, and he tells nurse Wendy Goldman that he doesn't know his son's name as he's never seen him. Not much else is known about Doug's past. Despite his jumbled personal life, Ross is a dedicated ER pediatrician. He has always been committed to medicine and children and to helping no matter the rules or the consequences. During Season 2, Doug rescued a boy trapped in a flooding storm drain during a rainstorm. His heroic efforts were filmed on local television, making him a media star. This event helped him earn back his job at County, because his supervisor in pediatrics originally wasn't going to renew his fellowship due to his disrespect for authority.

During Season 2, Ray tries to reconcile with Doug, who has difficulty reconnecting with the man who abandoned him and his mother. Ray owns a ritzy hotel in Chicago, and Doug lets his guard down a little but is disappointed when his father offers to take him to a Chicago Bulls game and then stands him up. Ross later reveals that he and his mother were abused by his father. Doug later has an affair with Ray's girlfriend, a woman from whom Ray stole money, but ends the relationship when it becomes clear that she has many problems.

Ross is a womanizer who dates and leaves many women throughout the course of the show. His womanizing days abruptly end after a one-night stand with an epileptic woman who hides her condition and dies in the ER. Ross learns her name only after she dies, after which he stops dating for a while until he gets back together with Carol Hathaway, the head nurse of the ER at County.

Warner Bros. Television, the studio which produces ER for NBC, kept secret from NBC Dr. Ross' cameo in 'Such Sweet Sorrow', which promoted the episode as Carol Hathaway's goodbye, with no mention of Ross' appearance. The original version of 'Such Sweet Sorrow' that Warner Bros. sent to NBC ended after the scene where we see Hathaway on the plane to Seattle. At the eleventh hour, Warner Bros. sent an 'edited' version of the episode by messenger to NBC headquarters in New York for broadcast. NBC was miffed that it was kept in the dark as it could have generated valuable ad revenue if it had aired promos that the episode marked the return of George Clooney. Clooney cited the fans of the show for his reason for making the cameo (he wanted Hathaway's and Ross's characters to get back together, which many fans hoped for). Clooney reportedly only asked to be paid scale for the cameo.

In the season 15 episode 'Old Times,' Ross is working as an attending physician at the University of Washington Medical Center. He is helping a grieving grandmother (Susan Sarandon) whose grandson was gravely injured in a bicycle accident. He talks to Sam and Neela after finding out that they are from County, asking them whether any of his old colleagues still work there. Doug and Carol are responsible for getting the kidney for Carter and a heart for another County patient, but they never discover who receives the organs.

Career[edit]

In the pilot episode, which takes place on St. Patrick's Day 1994, Ross is brought into the ER not long before his shift, to be 'treated' for drunkenness by his longtime friend, Dr. Mark Greene. Throughout the next few seasons, Ross is shown to be compassionate, though not always using the best judgment. His love of children is best seen during darker situations, such as when a child is in danger. When Peter Benton talks about how surgeons deal with emotionally charged cases and ER doctors have it easy, Ross leaves him stunned into silence when describing cases that include a young girl who beat her mother to death, a kid who is going to lose his leg to cancer and another kid who is dying from a life of homelessness. His lack of judgment leads him to assault abusive parents in the ER, but his counseling in that case just consists of the shrink telling him not to do that again.

He is a passionate doctor who puts the welfare of his patients, especially children, above his medical career. In one episode, Dr. Ross saves a young boy who is drowning and is flown in to County General using a news helicopter. This garners him much attention, earns him an award, and saves his job. Ross doesn't handle authority well, even when Mark is his boss. He is a pediatrician, but in several episodes performs medical procedures on adults, usually when the other doctors are busy.

In another episode, he tries to do an ultra-rapid detox on a drug-addicted baby without the mother's consent. Hathaway assists, but when Greene and Weaver discover that the procedure is being done in violation of hospital policy and the law, Doug is punished. He is left on probation for 30 days and is supervised by Dr. Kerry Weaver and Dr. Greene, who have to co-sign his charts. Doug's attitude toward patient treatment often has consequences for his coworkers and supervisors, who have received reprimands from their superiors for Doug's actions.

He vies to be an attending physician for emergency pediatrics. He eventually gets the job, even though doctors Greene and Weaver oppose his promotion because the position isn't necessary and the funds are needed elsewhere. Greene is ultimately happy for Ross, but Weaver is aghast and campaigns against his new position.

He resigns in the aftermath of a scandal in which he shows a mother how to bypass the lockouts on a DilaudidPCA, enabling her to give a lethal dose of medication to her terminally ill son. Ross had earlier stolen Dilaudid from a pain- medication study and given it to the mother, only to be discovered by Weaver and Greene, who reprimand him but kept the incident private. The incident prompts the closure of Hathaway's free clinic in the hospital, since it supplied the PCA to this mother, and Ross faces suspension from work and possible criminal charges. A friend of Ross, who is the Chief of Genetics, stands up for him and the charges against him are dropped, but Ross resigns from the hospital and moves to Seattle. When Ross leaves, he and Hathaway are on poor terms until she discovers that she's pregnant with his twin girls. Her clinic is later re-opened, but she has to report to her former assistant there.

Ross was written out of the series because Clooney wished to focus on his expanding film career. He also said that there wasn't any strong story in place for his character after Season 5.[This quote needs a citation] He appeared at the end of the penultimate episode of season 6, when Carol leaves Cook County to reunite with Ross in Seattle. He was reportedly asked to return briefly in season 8, to make an appearance in Anthony Edwards's last episode during Greene's funeral, but Clooney declined because he did not want his cameo appearance to overshadow the departure of a beloved character on the show.

Clooney returned to ER for its 15th and final season in 2009 in a story arc beginning with Episode 328, titled 'Old Times', with Julianna Margulies also returning as Hathaway. The two are now married and work to help convince a grieving grandmother to donate her grandson's organs. During the process, Doug talks with Neela Rasgotra and learns that nearly everyone he knows has since departed County with Anspaugh being the only one left. At the end of the episode they receive word of the success of their efforts, unaware that the doctor who got the kidney was their old friend John Carter.

Development[edit]

Casting and creation[edit]

George Clooney did not receive a casting call for the television series. He received a draft of the script from a friend; he read it and became interested in the part. He said: 'I like the flaws in this guy. I can play him.'[2]

Neal Baer who worked on ER was inspired by his personal experiences to write storylines for the character of Doug Ross. He did his residency while he was on ER and became a pediatrician, which helped to 'draw on really complicated ethical dilemmas.'[3]

Characterization[edit]

The character was described as 'a complicated children's doctor who could be self-centered quick-tempered and giving, hitting the bottle to avoid dealing with consequences of his actions.'[4]

Reception[edit]

In 2004, Ross was listed in Bravo's 100 Greatest TV Characters.[5]Entertainment Weekly placed Ross in its list of the '30 Great TV Doctors and Nurses'.[6] The character was included in Fox News' list of 'The Best TV Doctors For Surgeon General' and in Philadelphia Magazine's 10 Best Doctors on Television.[7][8] Ross was also listed in Wetpaint's '10 Hottest Male Doctors on TV' and in BuzzFeed's '16 Hottest Doctors On Television'.[9][10] His relationship with Carol Hathaway was included in AOL TV's list of the 'Best TV Couples of All Time' and in the same list by TV Guide.[11][12]

For his work on the series, Clooney received two Emmy Award nominations for Outstanding Lead Actor In A Drama Series in 1995 and 1996.[13][14] He was also nominated for three Golden Globe Awards for Best Actor – Television Series Drama in 1995, 1996, and 1997 (losing to co-star Anthony Edwards).[15][16][17]

References[edit]

^Mimi Leder (director), John Wells (writer) (1996-02-22). 'The Healers'. ER. Season 2. Episode 16. NBC.

^Keenleyside, Sam (April 1998). Bedside Manners: George Clooney and ER. ECW Press. p. 51. ISBN978-1-5502-2336-1.

^Tate, Nick (January 11, 2015). ''ER' Producer Dr. Neal Baer Turns Lens on Poverty, Education Reform'. Newsmax Media. Retrieved August 15, 2015.

^Potts, Kimberly (September 1, 2011). George Clooney: The Last Great Movie Star Revised and Updated Edition. Applause. p. 51. ISBN978-1-5578-3785-1.

^'Bravo > 100 Greatest TV Characters'. Bravo. Archived from the original on July 17, 2007. Retrieved November 11, 2006.

^Wilkinson, Amy (June 15, 2009). 'George Clooney – Paging Dr. Feelgood: 30 Great TV Doctors and Nurses – Photo 12 of 28'. Entertainment Weekly. Time Inc. Retrieved January 24, 2013.

^'The Best TV Doctors For Surgeon General'. Fox News. Retrieved January 24, 2013.

^Palan, Erica (October 11, 2011). '10 Best Doctors on Television'. Philadelphia Magazine. Retrieved January 24, 2013.

^Martin, Rebecca (December 21, 2012). 'The 10 Hottest Male Doctors on TV'. Wetpaint. The Cambio Network. Retrieved January 24, 2013.

^'The 16 Hottest Doctors On Television'. BuzzFeed. September 28, 2012. Retrieved January 24, 2013.

^Potts, Kimberly (February 11, 2008). 'Best TV Couples of All Time'. AOL TV. Aol, Inc. Retrieved September 24, 2012.

^'Couples Pictures, ER Photos - Photo Gallery: The Best TV Couples of All Time'. TV Guide. Retrieved June 25, 2012.

^'Primetime Emmy nominations for 1995 - Outstanding Lead Actor In A Drama Series'. Emmys.com. Retrieved January 24, 2013.

^'Primetime Emmy nominations for 1996 - Outstanding Lead Actor In A Drama Series'. Emmys.com. Retrieved January 24, 2013.

^'The 53rd Annual Golden Globe Awards (1996)'. Hollywood Foreign Press Association. Retrieved January 24, 2013.

^'The 54th Annual Golden Globe Awards (1997)'. Hollywood Foreign Press Association. Archived from the original on May 21, 2013. Retrieved January 24, 2013.

^'The 54th Annual Golden Globe Awards (1998)'. Hollywood Foreign Press Association. Retrieved January 24, 2013.

Emergency Room

External links[edit]

Bio at TNT.com

Official ER website at NBC.com

Hospital Er Rooms

Retrieved from 'https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Doug_Ross&oldid=991497793'

[caraidean]

Plots Call || March

The following is a list of one plot for each muse on my blog, if you feel up for doing it as a thread let me know in the replies or a DM and we can work the rest out!

Mia

(Canon) Mia’s illiteracy comes to light after she has some difficulty on a shopping trip, and one of the other Greil Mercenaries decides to attempt to teach her how to read and write properly. 

(Ike/Mia Verse) After Mia and Ike’s relationship comes to light, Mia ends up getting cornered by another Greil Mercenary and weakly attempts to do something she’s always been bad at - talking about her emotions. 

(Heroes) Mia ends up facing disciplinary action after she attempted to stab Zelgius ‘mostly’ unprompted, and brings up how the Black Knight once hospitalized her following a confrontation during the wars. 

Sanaki

(Canon) Between the events of FE9 and FE10, she ends up recruiting the Greil Mercenaries for a covert mission to take down another Senator. She proves upset when the mission is turned down due to prior commitments. 

(Adult Sanaki) Ten years after FE10, Sanaki meets with one of the Greil Mercenaries or Dawn Brigade members for the first time since the war. Unfortunately, it’s because they were arrested following conflict reports along the borders with bandits, and Sanaki is upset that she had to pull some strings to get them out of this. 

Tanith

(Canon) Tanith takes over training the majority of the troops during FE9, and proves frustrated with the general lack of discipline from the mercenary components of Ike’s forces.  People are not particularly endeared to her when she enters Drill Sergeant Mode. 

(Immortal) Fifty years after the end of Radiant Dawn, the immortal Tanith travels the continent in an attempt to get away from her husband Sephiran and meets up with far older - or unchanged, in the case of Laguz and Branded - companions from the wars. 

Mist

(Canon) Mist catches one of the members of the army trying to pass off an injury as ‘nothing serious’, and corners them for a well-needed scolding. 

Titania

(Canon) Post-FE9, Titania finally has enough time to process her grief over Greil’s death - she doesn’t handle it well, one of the other mercenaries finding her half-drunk in a local tavern and weeping. 

(Pre-FE9) Titania left the mercenaries alone for two weeks to visit family, and on her return finds that Greil lost control of the younger members of the group and enters Disappointed Mom Mode. 

Elena (Mia/Ike Fankid)

(Canon or Heroes) Elena frets over her decision to be a healer instead of a swordsman like her mother and father, wondering if she’s wasting her talents despite her pacifistic nature. 

Annath (Tanith/Sephiran Fankid)

(Heroes) Annath channels her mother’s drill sergeant talents, putting the younger members of the Order of Heroes through an improvised obstacle course to prove a point. 

Lewyn

(FE4, Gen 1) Shortly after hearing of the plan to rapidly flee Orgahil to Silesse of all places, Lewyn vanishes for a few hours. He’s found drinking on a rooftop overlooking the sea, and proves strangely pliable to questions about his past.

Finn

(FE4, Gen 1) Finn is reluctant to return back to Leonster with Quan and Ethlyn, particularly considering his relationship with Lachesis. He pulls the other character aside and attempts to convince them to take care of Lachesis while he’s gone.

Ced

(FE4, Gen 2) Days after the final battle, Ced reflects on the things he’s seen - and wonders if the Divine Weapons should perhaps be locked away, if not destroyed

Ishtar

(Survives AU)  Realizing that Julius is present in Askr, Ishtar finds herself unable to summon up the courage to confront him again - locking herself in isolated parts of the castle and needing to be talked down from what is essentially a form of panic attack.

(Heroes) Ishtar’s time in Askr has been blessed, the woman finally getting to spend time with people unaware of her past and what she had helped Julius accomplish. Learning that he was recently summoned, Ishtar decides to sit down with either the Summoner or one of the Askran royals and share her life in her own words, hoping to avoid any further judgement.

Nanna

(FE4, Gen 2) Nanna gets injured with no other healers nearby, and has to verbally walk her companion through the healing process. 

Erinys

(Ghost of Silesse AU) After the final battle, Erinys’ spirit finally gathers enough power to leave the borders of Silesse and meets with her newly-extended family for the first time. 

Swanhild (Ishtar/Seliph Fankid)

(Heroes) Swanhild feels her own, minor achievements are nothing compared to her parents and frets about being unworthy of belonging to the Order of Heroes. 

 Clair

(Canon) Clair breaks her leg after narrowly avoiding being shot down, and spends a miserable two days in the healing tent due to complications from the magical healing. 

Catria

(Canon) Shortly after returning from Valentia, Catria finds herself having to tell the story of what happened over the ocean for the third time, and grows frustrated at having to repeat herself. She decides to start embellishing it a little, wondering if anyone will notice. 

(Catria/Marth AU) As the wedding approaches, Catria grows concerned that her lack of royal blood will prove more of an issue than she previously believed. 

(Heroes) Catria is bemused by the amount of hero worship herself and her sisters end up on the receiving end of from other pegasus knights further along in the timeline. 

Cynthia

(Bad Future/Pre-FE13) Before going back in time, Cynthia and the other children (along with some other survivors) are forced to rest for the night in a cave complex to escape a snowstorm. Cynthia’s cheerful energy and attempts to keep morale up just serve to irritate the others in such a close space, and she retreats deeper into the caves to reflect on her actions.

Tiki

(FE13) Tiki gets slightly tipsy at a celebratory feast, and ends up spilling all manner of less-than-flattering stories about Marth and his companions to anyone that will listen. 

Morgan (Cynthia)

(Canon) Morgan’s pet cat ends up pregnant, and the 14-year-old girl wanders around camp trying to give away the newly-born kittens to anyone who would take them.  Due to her reputation, most believe this is some kind of trap on her end. They aren’t wrong. 

Morgan (Tiki)

(Heroes) Tiki!Morgan abuses her emphatic abilities to wreak havoc upon the rest of the Order of Heroes, initiating a prank war that would take the combined efforts of several others to stop. Or her mother.

Selena Flourspar

(Heroes) After being brought to Askr before the events of Sacred Stones, Selena learns of her death and Grado’s failures as a country. Shaken, she heads to the first bar she can find and attempts to figure out what to do with her life with her ideals shattered.

L’Arachel

(FE8) In the ruins of a destroyed church, L’Arachel reflects on her childhood and personal beliefs while attempting to re-sanctify a desecrated altar.

Tana

(Post-FE8)  With her due to be wed to Ephraim in a few weeks, Tana takes to the streets of Renais to attempt to get to know her future citizens better. She returns to the castle slightly haunted by the suffering she saw, throwing herself into plans for charity work at the expense of sleep.

Igrene

(FE6) Late at night, Igrene opens up about the loss of her child to someone willing to listen. 

(Heroes) Igrene ends up having to corral not only Fae, but several of the other younger manaketes - Nowi, Myrrh, and Tiki - and ends up feeling quite harassed by her unwanted role. 

[infamousbartycrouchjr]

"The Dark Lord and I have much in common. Both of us, for instance, had very disappointing fathers... very disappointing indeed. Both of us suffered the indignity, Harry, of being named after those fathers. And both of us had the pleasure... the very great pleasure... of killing our fathers! ... I will be honoured beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest, his closest supporter... Closer than a son."

Barty Crouch Jr

THE YOUNG WIZARD BEHIND THE MAGICAL EYE

Full Name:

Bartemius Crouch Junior

Alias:

Barty Crouch Jr., Barty

Alastor Moody (while impersonating him during the Goblet of Fire)

Origin:

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire; Book 4

Occupation:

Death Eater

Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher

Powers/Skills:

High intelligence

Considerable magic power

Capable of out-dueling Alastor Moody and hoodwinking the Goblet of Fire

Unforgivable Curses

Hobby:

Serving Lord Voldemort better than any other Death Eater.

Goals:

Get revenge against his inattentive father, Bartemius Crouch Sr.

*Return Voldemort back to power by getting Harry through the Triwizard Tournament.

Type of Villain:

Magical Master Manipulator

Bartemius "Barty" Crouch, Jr. (gone undercover as Dark Wizard hunter Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody) is a Dark Wizard and an infamous Death Eater, and the main antagonist in the fourth Harry Potter book/film, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Crouch spends most of the story posing as the friendly teacher Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, and became the Defense Against the Dark Arts (D.A.D.A.) teacher at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry during the Triwizard Tournament, hosted by Hogwarts. He was sent by Voldemort, the most-powerful of all Dark Wizards and leader of the Death Eaters, to rig the Triwizard Tournament so that Harry Potter wins the tournament and use his blood to give Voldemort a new body. He is widely regarded as a fan-favorite among the Death Eaters.

HISTORY

In 1981, after Lord Voldemort lost his powers after trying to kill Harry Potter, Barty (then 19) along with Bellatrix Lestrange and other Death Eaters tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom into insanity using the Unforgivable Curse Cruciatus to find any information on Voldemort's whereabouts. Presented before the Wizengamot they were sentenced to Azkaban. Barty openly pleaded with his cold father for mercy, but the long-strained relationship between them and Crouch Senior's own standing in the Ministry meant that this was impossible. According to Sirius Black, Barty was screaming inside his cell for his mother for the first few days, but then quieted down from the extreme depressive influence of the Dementors, as did many other prisoners.

One year later, his mother's health had deteriorated drastically from the stress of her son's imprisonment. The couple were allowed a deathbed visit of their son due to Bartemius Sr.'s high status in the Ministry. She persuaded her husband to help smuggle their son out of Azkaban by swapping him for his mother. Using Polyjuice Potion, and undetected by the blind Dementors, Mrs. Crouch took the place of her son. She died a short time later, and was buried outside the fortress under the guise of her son.

Bartemius Sr. was overcome with grief and guilt, and opted to control him via the Imperius Curse to protect his son by keeping his existence secret from the public, and to keep the son from continuing the search for Voldemort. He also forced him to hide under an Invisibility cloak at all times. This was more directed at honoring his beloved wife's last wish, and while some small affection for his son came through, the methods he used to do this arguably drove Junior further into madness.

Bertha Jorkins, a Ministry of Magic employee, accidentally discovered the truth when she came unannounced to the Crouch home and discovered their secret. Bartemius Sr. rectified this with a Memory Charm so powerful that she suffered permanent brain damage. Years later, Peter Pettigrew ran into Bertha while searching for Voldemort. In the hopes that she would prove useful to him, Peter tricked her into going with him. She ended up proving very useful to Voldemort; not only did he extract the whereabouts of his loyal servant, but also gathered information on the Triwizard Tournament, which was to be held at Hogwarts. Voldemort murdered Bertha, and the Ministry deemed her "missing" for months.

HIS ROLE

Barty was sent to the 1994 Quidditch World Cup under cover of the Invisibility Cloak along with his family's houseelf, Winky. Winky knew that Barty had always loved Quidditch and persuaded Mr. Crouch to allow him to go out and have some fresh air. Barty's mother, after all, wanted him to have freedom. Barty's seat, by chance, was in a skybox alongside Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. During the Quidditch match, Barty broke free of the Imperius Curse his father had placed on him. Furious of his father's actions, Barty decided to get revenge, and stole Harry's wand, which was in view. He then escaped Winky's watch over him, as she was so afraid of heights in the sky box that she covered her eyes for the entire Quidditch match.

Barty Crouch conducts a Morsmordre!!!

After the World Cup was through, Barty noticed the Death Eaters who escaped Azkaban playing with the lives of Muggles. Furious against them he used Harry's wand to launch the Dark Mark into the sky over the campgrounds, scaring the Death Eaters away. The spell that Winky used to bind herself with Barty to prevent him from escape was broken when the two were struck by Ministry officials' multiple Stunning Spells. Furious against Winky for failing to restrain his son, Crouch Sr. fired her. (At this point of the story, who launched the Dark Mark and why, as well as why Crouch Sr. was so furious at his elf were unknown to the reader.)

Left alone in the house with only father and son, one night shortly after the Dark Mark incident, Peter Pettigrew and Lord Voldemort, who needed a loyal follower to help him regain power, managed to free Barty from his father's imprisonment. Voldemort put Bartemius Sr. under the Imperius Curse and forced him to keep working at the Ministry as he usually would.

As part of his servitude as a Death Eater, Barty was charged with infiltrating Hogwarts Castle, entering Harry's name into the Goblet of Fire and guiding him through Triwizard Tournament without having appeared to do so. Barty accomplished this by breaking into former Auror Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody's home and kidnapping him. He created Polyjuice Potion from Alastor's hair and concealed the Auror in his own magical trunk. He then proceeded to take over Alastor's job at Hogwarts, teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was able to maintain his disguise for months undetected by learning from his captive how to act exactly like him, and by consistently sipping the potion from a hip flask; he did so in plain view of students and staff, and it was generally assumed that this was due to Moody's well-known intense paranoia.

Barty used his time at Hogwarts to gain the trust of the students and staff at Hogwarts. During his first lesson for a group of fourth year students, he demonstrated all three Unforgivable Curses on three different spiders and, controversially, later also the Imperius Curse on the students themselves, although he claimed to have had permission to do so, in order to teach them how to overcome it. As a teacher, Barty (under the guise as Alastor) was actually quite effective, and despite his ulterior motives, his teaching of how to overcome curses such as the Imperius was valuable with Harry Potter gaining the ability to resist even Lord Voldemort himself as a result.

However, Barty was not at Hogwarts to mold future wizards. He entered Harry Potter's name under a fourth school into the Goblet of Fire, confusing it with a powerful Confundus Charm to ensure Harry's placement for Lord Voldemort's gain. Barty subtly helped Harry throughout the three phases of the tournament. He nudged Rubeus Hagrid into showing Harry the dragons, later suggesting that Harry play to his strengths to pass the task and thus giving Harry the idea of using a broomstick to accomplish it. He advised Cedric Diggory into telling Harry how to work out the golden egg clue, knowing that he would repay Harry for telling about the dragons. He also planted the book Magical Mediterranean Water Plants and Their Properties onto Harry's friend Neville Longbottom early on, hoping that Neville would tell him about gillyweed for the underwater task. With Harry's own pride and independent streak standing in the way of the plan, Barty had to improvise. Remembering that Harry mentioned having an elf friend named Dobby gave him socks for Christmas, Barty called Dobby into the staff room and staged a loud discussion with Professor McGonagall about gillyweed, right in front of Dobby. The house-elf responded by stealing the plant from Severus Snape's personal stores and gave it to Harry on the day of the task.

During the events surrounding the Tournament, Bartemius Sr. escaped from his home and apparated near Hogwarts, where he wandered in his confusion in search of Dumbledore, planning on confessing about how he smuggled his son from Azkaban. Voldemort immediately sent an owl to Hogwarts warning him that his father would likely show up at Hogwarts. Bartemius Sr. came upon Harry and Viktor Krum but by then, he was so delusional and insane that he was unable to clearly convey anything beyond what appeared to be ramblings about his son and Bertha. The former went to the castle to fetch Albus. Barty arrived at the scene before anyone else, stunned Viktor, and killed his father. He transfigured his father's body into a bone and buried it in front of Rubeus's cabin.

Before the third and final task of the Tournament, Barty volunteered to place the Triwizard Cup in a maze through which the contestants were to navigate. He took advantage of this opportunity to turn the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey. As he patrolled around the labyrinth hedge, he stunned Fleur Delacour and used the Imperius Curse on Viktor to get rid of Cedric, but his puppet was stunned by Harry. Nonetheless, Harry got to the Cup, along with Cedric, transporting them to the Little Hangleton graveyard when they grasped it together. It was at this time that Peter performed the horrible ritual to restore Lord Voldemort's physical body, using Harry's blood, Peter's own hand, and Tom Riddle Sr.'s bone from the grave. They then proceeded to kill Cedric.

When Harry escaped the graveyard and returned to Hogwarts, Barty ushered him away from the panicking crowd, pretending to take him to the hospital wing, to interrogate him about Voldemort's return. He revealed to Harry that it was he who guided him through the Tournament all along; he put his name in the Goblet of Fire, got Hagrid to show the dragons, explained the Golden Egg to Cedric knowing he would tell Harry, made Neville give Harry gillyweed, bewitched Viktor and stunned Fleur. Barty then planned on killing Harry and be honored above the rest of Voldemort's followers. But before he could, Albus Dumbledore, accompanied by Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape, fired a Stunner at him, having realized that he was not Alastor when he removed Harry from his sight, his only slip-up. After the Polyjuice Potion wore off, Barty confessed everything to Albus under the influence of Veritaserum, a powerful truth serum.

However, before he could testify before the Wizengamot, Barty suffered a fate worse than death, receiving the Dementor's Kiss by a Dementor that Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge brought with him. Fudge regarded Barty as a raving lunatic, disbelieving claims that he was acting for Voldemort, and dismissing with utter contempt the idea that the Dark Lord was back. What happened to Barty's empty body is unknown.

PERSONALITY

Bartemius Crouch Jr. is first displayed in Dumbledore's flashbacks of his trial. In the book, he is portrayed as a desperate boy sobbing pathetically and begging for mercy as the Dementors dragged him. However, by this point of the story he was portrayed as the innocent victim and this scene was meant to portray him in a sympathetic light, to make the final twist even more efficient. In truth, it is likely given his manipulative streak that it was an act in order to be released and resume his search for his lord free of suspicion. By contrast, the movie makes no mystery of his allegiances and shows him as significantly more confident, showing arrogance and contempt rather than fear as he is captured and dragged to Azkaban.

In reality, Barty Crouch Jr. is with little doubt the most dangerous, level-headed and competent of all Death Eaters to the point of being the favorite of the notoriously hard-to-please Lord Voldemort. While Bellatrix Lestrange can be seen as Voldemort's mightiest fighter, Crouch Jr. can be seen as his smartest follower. He is also described as a highly powerful and skilled wizard, being able to overpower Mad-Eye Moody and to cast a Confusing Charm potent enough to affect the Goblet of Fire.

Barty Crouch was shown to be highly cunning, dexterous, manipulative, and intelligent: He was able to rig the entire Triwizard Tournament from behind the scenes, mostly by using unsuspecting third parties and by planting useful items where he knew they would get in the right hands, to gain the trust of everyone and to play with people's affects, and to adapt his plan to the circumstances. Furthermore, he posed as Alastor Moody with enough skill to fool Albus Dumbledore himself, who is an old friend of the real Moody. Contrary to Voldemort and the other Death Eaters who openly scorn all way of thinking but their own, Crouch Jr. knows full well about loyalty and selflessness, and although he disdains such feelings he does not underestimate them and is able to use them to his advantage. Having broken free, Crouch seemed to have become unhinged (assuming he wasn't already) by his captivity in Azkaban then under his father's clutches. However, it must be noted that he only let his guard down when convinced to have reached his dream.

It is heavily hinted that Crouch Jr. spent his entire childhood trying to please his father, who neglected him in favor of his political ambition, and heavily suffered from it. At some point, he estranged himself from his family and got acquainted with Death Eaters, who molded him into one of them. Over time, he grew to loathe his father and became fanatically devoted to Lord Voldemort, displaying a sick obsession towards him comparable to that of Bellatrix Lestrange. Except that while Bellatrix is infatuated with Voldemort, Barty regards him as a father figure.

Crouch Jr. freely admits that he lives and breathes to serve Voldemort and yearns to prove his worth to him, in an extremely twisted search for a father's approval. He sees similarities between himself and Voldemort in their relation to their fathers and their descent into evil. (This shows that Voldemort trusted him enough to tell him about his own family, something he never mentioned to any other Death Eater.) As such, he has extreme hatred towards the Death Eaters who weaseled their way out of Azkaban, regarding them as worthless cowards and craving to see them punished. The film increases Crouch Jr. fantasies about being Voldemort's greatest servant and portrays him as somewhat megalomaniacal, regarding his enemies as "pathetic" as well as being somewhat misanthropic as shown during the trial. Alastor Moody casts a spell on him and he falls to the ground and as he is dragged from the room he says "Get your filthy hands off me, you pathetic little men!"

[llyneira]

Aidoneus and Neotera

My mother is the goddess of grain, agriculture, harvest, growth, and nourishment. I was the her daughter in all things. Hecate brought my mother the earth from Zancle in Sicily to get her with child. The earth had been pierced by the bloody spear that castrated the God of Sky. The blood of the sky mixed with the body of Earth had brought forth the Giants, the avenging Furies, and the ash-tree nymphs so Hecate and my mother had thought they could get a child by mixing the bloody earth with the waters of their wombs. I grew from the bloody earth and the water of Demeter’s womb. Hera’s husband was pleased to take credit for my birth. He had believed the lie easily; he was often too drunk to know what he’d done.

I was born of Demeter’s body but I grew with Hecate’s spirit.  Demeter saw that I was a goddess of spring and rebirth but she overlooked that I was a goddess of compost and decay. My mother Demeter loved me too much and shielded me from every sadness or disappointment. Hecate saw the duality of my nature with her fathomless eyes and taught me about the uses of roots, stems, leaves, and flowers. I loved the poisonous blooms more for the danger that was their virtue. Demeter saw my love of gardening and overlooked the deadliness of the plants I favored.

I wanted to explore more than the eternal springtime realm but Demeter held me closer the more I suffocated. I was gasping for my own time, my own space, my own life. I devised a plan and enlisted the help of Gaia to give me seeds spelled to transport me to other realms when I picked the blooms. I travelled to many realms, unbeknownst to Demeter, before I finally picked the narcissus flower.

The ground where the flower had grown trembled and opened. I took the passage that led me to the underworld.

I found a realm of mist and shadows, different from my own eternal spring. I waded across a river, stopping on the other side to twist the water out of my clothes. I found a path and followed it.

Eventually, I came to a small village centered around the largest Elm tree I had ever seen. Something translucent and white, like the cocoon of a moth, clung to the underside of every leaf. There was no breeze but still something whispered between the branches about dreams that had led mortals astray.

As I contemplated the tree veiled and hooded figures left the few houses, crossing to the center of the town square where I stood. I was confronted with the guardians of the underworld’s gate.

Grief came for me first; I’d never felt such sorrow and loss but it soon deepened into a tearless emptiness. Anxiety came for me next; every nervous worry and self-critical thought I had ever had returned to haunt me. My upbringing had left me unprepared for the onslaught.

Disease and Old Age came for me next; I was the daughter of goddesses but they brought me low all the same. My chest filled and I bent over with great, wracking coughs. I felt a sudden pain in my hip and I collapsed in pain.

Agony came for me with the pain burst through my leg; shooting up my side and spreading like fire and screaming out of my mouth. Fear came for me as I lay on the ground; I was terrified that these curses would never be lifted. Still it did not stop.

I had never gone without sustenance and libations. I had never known any hunger but this was a foul emptiness. I knew a great and terrible desperation, the sort that made me crave even the decayed meat of long dead flesh.

Sleep and Death came for me together, offering respite at a great cost. I eyed Sleep with distrust and I rejected Death altogether.

“You must go back then,” said Death.

I lay in terrible pain, fear, weak, sick to my stomach, filled with self doubt, and overcome by my deepest sorrow. I still would not surrender. My voice was hoarse from screaming and my throat thick with sickness but I found my voice.

“I am no mortal woman,” I struggled to say, “I am the daughter of Demeter, beloved of Hecate.”

My voice had deepened as I spoke, clearer with every pronouncement.

“I am Neotera,” I told them forcefully, “Goddess of black soil, root, and stem. I have more darkness in me than anyone knows. I will go wherever I desire to go.”

They left me. The tortures faded away and I stood. I was myself again but I also felt like more. The girl who had curled at her mother’s breast was not the woman who stood back up.

I passed through the gates and wandered the underworld, deeper and deeper, until I came to the place where the root of the earth grew and the bottom of the sea moved, serene and black, above me.

I found a temple, surrounded on three sides by trees with cypress trees planted in front of the columns of the temple. I entered the temple but saw no one else. I took the vibrant crown of flowers from my hair and left it as an offering.

I explored the temple and found a paved courtyard grandly overflowing with greenery. There were more trees here, boughs heavy with pomegranates and pears, apples glowing red, dark olives, and succulent figs. The large garden included an outdoor reading nook with a small library.

The reading nook was occupied by a man. He was so engrossed in the book he was curled around that he didn’t seem to notice me at first. His hair was black as pitch, skin pale like the moon, and lips stained red with juice from pomegranate seeds. The empty shell of the pomegranate lay forgotten on a jewel encrusted table. A three headed dog was splayed across the tiles in front of the cushioned seat, four feet twitching in a rhythm like running.

“You are not one of the dead,” he said, lifting his brown eyes to my stare.

“No,” I replied, softly, “I am daughter of Demeter. I am called Neotera.”

He nodded, thoughtfully.

“I am Aidoneus, lord of those among whom I dwell. Welcome to my realm, young bringer of fruit,” Aidoneus gave me a stern and unyielding stare, “You will be required to stay here if you consume any of the food that grows here. Otherwise, you are welcome to explore my realm.”

My eyes widened, “I won’t take any of your fruits, then.”

He murmured an assent and returned his attention to his book.

I returned to my realm of eternal spring. Hecate and Gaia had kept Demeter distracted, as they did, so she had not noticed my absence. I was uncomfortable with the brightness of the light once I returned. It seemed too much, too harsh.

I sweetly asked Gaia for more Narcissus seeds, my demeanor a mask of innocence because Demeter was listening. Gaia agreed and I tended my patch of eternal spring, changed by my recent travels. Demeter was as willfully blind to the changes in me as she had been when my body had changed from a child to a woman.

I returned to the underworld several times, each time waiting impatiently until the narcissus flower bloomed.

Eventually I came upon the man from the garden again. He was inside the temple, heading away from the courtyard, when I found him. He had a dark cloak around his shoulders and his face was set with grim determination.

He gave me the greeting he always gave me: “You are welcome to explore my realm. You will be required to stay if you consume any of the food that grows here.”

“I remember,” I told him.

“I must see to my duties,” he told me, “I have the judgement of souls to preside over.”

“May I accompany you?” I asked, curious, “I’m curious.”

“Of course,” he took my arm and I walked at his side.

“You have two thrones?” I asked, when I saw his court.

“I hope one day to have a wife to rule beside me,” he answered, his voice empty of inflection, “I hear the stories of many souls. I have learned from mortals that life is better when it is shared.”

“The other God-Kings don’t allow their wives to be their equals,” I made the statement a query with my tone.

“They do not and they suffer for it, though they do not seem to see the relation,” he hesitated before adding, “I have also learned from mortals that marriage can only be happy when it is between two people who respect each other.”

I stood next to the ebony throne as I watched as the procession of the newly dead came through his great hall. It seemed an unending stream. I listened to the sighs and stories of the newly dead. Their lord was an unyielding stone in the face of their tears.

“You called for an end to court but there were still more souls,” I murmured, “Why not continue to sit in judgement until there are no more souls?”

He nodded, his tone restrained and chilly, “You are said to be a daughter of Zeus but you do not take after him.”

“No,” I said shortly, “I don’t.”

“There are always more souls,” he sighed, gloomy, “One hundred thousand souls journey through my gates each day. It takes time to hear the lamentations of each one. One day, the last soul will travel to my realm. Perhaps then I will be able to catch up on my reading.”

I shook my head at the strangeness of the thought.

“Why do the shades of heroes wander among the shades of those who have achieved less?” I asked him.

He seemed surprised, “What would you do?”

“I would divide up the realm,” I huffed at him, “At the start, I would create a place for mortals lived good lives, another place for mortals who made a ruin of their lives, and one for those who did nothing of any consequence.”

“How would I determine if they’ve lived a good life?” he asked.

“I would compel them to tell the truth. Ask them what they did while they lived that caused the most harm in the mortal realm. Ask them what they did while they lived that created the most good in the mortal realm,” I thought about it, “Ask them where they think they deserve to spend the rest of their afterlife. Let them defend their position.”

“I endeavor to be a fair and just ruler,” Aidoneus said slowly, considering, “I will consider your suggestion.”

The next time I returned to his realm of cool mists and quiet shadows Aidoneus held court again. I observed him in his rulings and I found them logical and well-thought out. Most of the time, I considered this to be correct. There were some awful, cruel mortals whose souls passed through the judgement of Aidoneus without him betraying any emotion. I gritted my teeth, resolved to hold my tongue, and thought I would do it better.

A man came before us and told us when he did the most good; it was a paltry action that hadn’t affected very many. The mortal’s self-serving nature was obvious. When he began to speak of what he’d done that had caused the most harm in the world, I was shocked. How had he not been stopped? He had grown to an old age, all the while a monster inside a human skin.

“My Lady,” one of the shades implored and I was startled, “I beg mercy and forgiveness for my crimes.”

I was shocked, “You have described the harm you have done. You used the strength and power you acquired in life, not to protect life, not to preserve life, but to cause pain and suffering to those who had no power to stop you.”

“I only sought for others to feel as terrible as I felt,” he defended his heinous actions, “I never truly succeeded. If only you knew how awful it was to be me.”

“How dare you,” I was livid, “How dare you try to play on my sympathies.”

“You are a Goddess, but you are first a woman,” the shade seemed offended, “It is your duty to be kind, forgiving, and helpful. I am asking you to have mercy on me. No actions taken in one short human life could be worth enduring an eternity of punishment.”

“I have no sympathy for you, vile creature,” my fists clenched as I resisted the urge to strike him, “Your wicked deeds should earn you an eternity of retribution. Your soul should endure the same torture that you inflicted on those who were smaller or weaker than yourself.”

“As she wills it, so shall it be,” Aidoneus pronounced immediately, every inch of him solemn as the grave.

I turned to him in surprise.

“She is not the Lord here,” the shade protested, as he grappled with shadows that took solid form around him.

“You chose to address her, rather than me, to play to her emotions,” Aidoneus pronounced, his face clear and unresponsive, “You will be judged then according to her emotions. It looks as if the only emotions you inspired in her were rage and disgust. You have earned your place among the cursed shades.”

Aidoneus closed his court after the shade was dragged away. The others filed out, whispering among what had just happened. Immediately, once we were alone I turned to the shining black throne.

“I apologize, Lord Aidoneus,” I said, my words tripping over themselves, “I should not have interfered in your court.”

“I do not accept your apology,” he told me, and my heart dropped into my stomach, “You have no reason to apologize. I get tired of making every decision for every mortal soul but it is my duty to see that each one is served, eventually. I didn’t have to think about his punishment or weigh the options. It was a relief. Your help is appreciated.”

I stared at him in disbelief, “Truly?”

“Truly,” he murmured, closing his eyes, “I can never relinquish this burden completely but I am entirely willing to share it, as well as the wealth and power that accompanies the responsibility.”

“I make emotional decisions,” I warned him, and he smiled.

“I noticed,” he rubbed his beard with one hand, “I pass my judgement according to rules that I decided on soon after I began this tedious task. I wanted the process to be fair and just. I decided that all souls must be condemned or elevated according to the same standards. I have been reluctant to change the rules. You suggested segregating the souls according to their achievements in life and I added to my rules accordingly.”

“You judge everyone the same, in an effort to treat them all equally,” I considered his position carefully.

“My rules are not perfect; there are moments when I look back and think a more emotional response might have been warranted,” he shrugged.

“Emotions are not illogical,” I said, carefully, “Emotions are telling us when a need is not being met. A mortal feels thirsty when they need a drink, hungry when they need food, and pain when a bone is broken. We feel sad when our souls are wounded. We feel happy when something is feeding our souls, healing us. There is a need to balance the needs of our minds, souls, and bodies.”

He nodded, frowning, “You said that very well.”

His endorsement made me take a risk with my next words.

“You might also consider that treating every soul equally is not necessarily treating every soul fairly,” I told him, frankly.

“What would you do differently?” he asked. I could not tell if he was offended.

“Some mortals face severe disadvantages,” I told him, my passion getting the better of me, “I have learned in my travels that some mortals are born tightly boxed into certain positions in life. It would hardly be fair to look down on a person who has constantly broken the law of men if the laws of men were causing that person harm.”

“You are thinking of the boy who admitted to hitting his mother because his father threatened to kill him if he didn’t,” Aidoneus sighed, “Some of the lives that flash before me are heartbreaking.”

“He did fight back eventually,” I murmured.

“Yes,” Aidoneus nodded, “His best choice led him here.”

My gaze sharpened as my mind jumped out of memory and into the present moment.

“Lord Aidoneus,” my lips curled in a snarl, “One day that boy’s father will come before you.”

“Yes,” I thought I saw his lips twitch, just barely.

“His father has already earned an eternity of suffering,” I suggested, “Don’t you agree?”

“Perhaps the father will change his ways after his son’s murder,” Aidoneus returned.

“Some crimes are unforgivable,” I vowed.

“It is my hope that when the boy’s father comes before the throne you will be there to mete out judgement,” Aidoneus sighed, “Until then, I think I would like to retire to my garden to read. Would you care to join me?”

“Yes,” I told him, honestly, “Demeter will miss me if I stay too long. I must not stay long.”

“Time does not pass here for the shades as it does for the living,” he stroked the top of one head of his dog, “Still, I will wait for your return.”

I smiled, pleased, “I will see you again when the next Narcissus flower blooms.”

It wasn’t meant to be however. 

Demeter decided that I had grown dangerously enamored of the Narcissus flower and told me to leave it be for a while. Some part of her must have felt me growing away from her. My mother began leaving me with attendants when she pursued her own distractions.

“Minthe,” I noticed one of the nymphs carrying a clay pot, “What is that?”

“It is a gift,” Minthe told me, shoving the pot at me, “The Lord of the Underworld asked me to give this to you on his behalf.”

I stared at the budding flower. It was a narcissus. I replanted the young flower carefully, away from the prying eyes of my mothers, and waited impatiently for it to bloom.

Something was different when I picked this narcissus. Rather than the ground opening up with a small crevice for me to slip through, as it normally did, a great large crack split the air and dragons the size of horses thundered out of the fractured ground. Behind the dragons was a large, ebony chariot with Aidoneus holding the reins. A tufted leather pixane made his shoulders look very broad and his dark cloak suddenly caught the wind.

The nymphs screamed, half in delight and half in fear. I laughed but the sound was lost as Aidoneus came closer. He slowed the chariot enough to pull me aboard as the nymphs scrambled back. They ran in the direction of my mothers and we disappeared beneath the earth.

“I hope you had fun,” I told him, wiping tears of laughter from my cheeks, “Demeter is going to make you pay for it.”

He shrugged, pretending not to care.

“It was worth it, as long as you want to be here,” he told me.

I looked at him, considering.

“What if I want to stay here?” I asked.

He looked at me searchingly, “You are welcome to explore my realm. Your divine immortality prevents anyone from keeping you here, unless you eat the food.”

I bit my lip, “I don’t want to be forced to stay.”

He nodded and looked away, contemplating the ocean floor above us. I put my hand on his shoulder, the earthen color of my skin lost in the deep brown of his cloak.

“I also don’t want to be forced to leave,” I told him, earnestly.

“Your vibrant spirit helps make the endless tedium of my work easier to bear. I asked my brother for your hand in marriage,” he told me, quietly, “He agreed and now I am able to ask you.”

I was silent, with my heart thundering in my chest like a storm.

“I want you to think about your answer,” he told me, “I want a marriage where we both give to each other that which is ours to give.”

“I am a God-King. I can not be commanded, but I swear to serve my wife in the ways that she requires of a husband. I promise that my wife will be served before me at my table. I promise that my wife will be the only one with whom I share my body intimately.”

“I would choose you above all others, if you would do the same. Will you be my wife, my queen, and my equal in every honor and respect?”

“Yes.”

Nothing was ever as easy as a simple yes. We were married by Zeus, quickly. Demeter found out that we had been married and protested, vehemently. Zeus had given permission for me to marry his brother and had officiated the ceremony, but my mother had not been consulted. She threw a fit of epic proportions, even for her.

Demeter withered the crops on the vines. When harvest came the fields were barren and the soil was cold. Mortals all over the world died from cold and starvation. Disease spread as mortals began to consume rotted grains and unlucky rats. In the north, cliffs of ice slowly began to encroach on land that had once been livable. The coasts were pushed farther out as the oceans receded to feed to northern blocks of ice.

“Why hasn’t anyone stopped her?” I asked Aidoneus, now my husband.

He was calm, splayed out across the large bed we shared. I paced and every time I made a point I was particularly furious about I threw my hands up in the air. His brown eyes followed me, as if I might disappear at any moment.

“She is my brother’s better,” Aidoneus shrugged, “If she makes all of life on earth extinct, we will be very rich indeed. She must stop eventually. If all life dies out in the mortal realm then she and all of the other deathless gods will wither away to wisps on the wind.”

“Death is inevitable,” I muttered, “Life, not so much.”

“Will you return if she continues to destroy the world?” he asked, casually

I knew better. He did not want me to go. He was a god of unbreakable rules and inevitable order. He had meant all of his promises to me. I did not know any Goddess whose husband had genuinely promised to be entirely faithful.

“I may not have a choice,” I answered him, “The other deathless gods know what is in store for them if all of the mortals die. They won’t stand for it.”

I eventually crawled into bed beside him and we fell asleep. I woke again, though. My mind could not rest. My mother was threatening my happiness and my mind would not settle. I dressed quietly and went to walk. I went to the temple courtyard where I first met my husband.

I realized I would not lose him, not even to save the world. I also realized, maybe I did not have to lose him. I wasn’t sure what Aidoneus would say about my plan but I did not want to wait for reason or logic.

I took one of the pomegranate fruits. I more than a quarter of the seeds before Aidoneus caught up to me.

“Neotera,” he frowned, quiet and stern, “Now you can never leave.”

“I certainly hope you’re right,” I told him, “I thought you’d be thrilled. Now they can’t make me do something that I don’t want to do.”

He sounded tired when he spoke next, “They have already forced you to do something you didn’t want to do.”

“I love your world and I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you, too, but you want all of the worlds. You love to travel, bringing change wherever you go,” he told me gently. It was the same voice he used with the youngest souls, the young children who came before him.

“I love the color and life you bring with you and I want to see you thrive. Going in the opposite direction as the ones who oppose you isn’t the way,” he cautioned me, “I didn’t want you to be forced into a position you wouldn’t have chosen on your own, even if it would seem to benefit me.”

Hermes came to see us the next morning. He was there to fetch me. Aidoneus and I ascended to the realm of the gods to attend the judgement of Zeus and the other gods. My husband and I were silent as my fate was argued and debated.

We were married but our marriage would not be undone by our separation, they said. We would just be two married people who never saw each other.

My mother outranked me, they said, so if Hades couldn’t force her to give me up then they wouldn’t interfere with Demeter.

They had a lot of excuses but the truth was Demeter’s power was great enough that they couldn’t fight her and be sure that they would win. No one could lead an army without food, except possibly my husband. He wouldn’t bring an army of the dead roaring out of the gates of hell. At least, I didn’t think he would.

Finally, Zeus said that I would have to be returned to my mother.

Aidoneus finally spoke, “She must remain in the underworld. She ate from the pomegranate tree in my garden.”

The room was silent. The laws about the food from the land of the dead were older than all of the gods here.

Suddenly, Demeter wailed and fell into Hecate’s arms. Hecate looked like she’d like to be anywhere else.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she cried, looking at me. I gave her the stone face that I had learned in the underworld.

“I’ve been a good mother,” Demeter said pleadingly, looking around at the silent gods and goddesses, “I’ve done everything a mother is supposed to do. I was good to her. I never tested her. I never punished her.”

You never let me make my own decisions, I wanted to shout at her. I was so done with all of this. You never let me be myself, I wanted to tell her. You never knew me except for the parts of me that were like you, I thought.

“I am a goddess in my own right and I deserve to make my own decisions,” I finally said, with adamantine resolve.

“You’re my daughter!” Demeter was furious.

“She’s my wife,” Aidoneus snapped back, with uncharacteristic vehemence, “Only one of those was her choice.”

The sudden silence was deafening.

“How many seeds from the pomegranate did you eat?” Zeus broke the silence first.

“There are about six hundred seeds in one,” Aidoneus replied, his eyes and his mind sharp, “She ate about a little more than a quarter of a pomegranate so around a hundred seventy five seeds, if I had to guess.”

I didn’t know what was happening. I looked at Aidoneus questioningly and he shook his head slightly.

“There are about three hundred fifty days in a year,” Zeus looked around.

The others were stone faced. I know I didn’t understand where he was going with this and I expected they didn’t know either.

“We can’t break the rule about her staying in the underworld, but we can bend it a bit,” Zeus smiled at Demeter consolingly but she had resorted to weeping into her cloak.

“Neotera will remain in the underworld one day for every pomegranate seed,” Zeus said.

“Neotera will be free to leave the underworld the rest of the year,” Aidoneus added.

“Yes, of course,” Zeus nodded. Either he didn’t notice the wording or he didn’t really care.

“She deserves another name,” Aidoneus added, “She is now Queen of the Underworld and Goddess of the Underworld.”

“You have destroyed my happiness,” Demeter told me.

“Call me Persephone. Destroyer,” I told them.

“Maybe you need another name, brother,” Zeus laughed.

“Call me Hades. Unseen,” my husband resumed his characteristic seriousness.

I laughed later that evening when he used his helm of darkness to come to me in the warm twilight. I giggled, he whispered, and we cuddled.

In the shadows, I learned that the dark he brought with him could make the harsh, unforgiving light of my mother’s world a little easier to bear.

[gaia-cove]

Name: Chandler Latham Gender pronouns: he/him Age: 44 Occupation: Principal, Gaia Middle School Hometown: Wilmington, North Carolina Amount of time on the island: Off and on for 14 years. He moved about 5 years ago, and has recently moved back Face Claim: Matt Czuchry

Bio:  (Triggers: foster care, neglect, abandonment, death, abuse, child protective services, self hatred )

Chandler Latham had never been the kid that people wanted around. From the time he was born, he was usually always put off on someone else, whether it be the neighbors, distant family, or simply left behind by his family, the child was pretty independent from day one. Of course, this didn’t last long as the town started to talk and before Chandler’s parents had the chance to blink their newborn son was taken into child protective services and given the life that he had always deserved, at least, that’s what people on the outside thought. 

Growing up in the foster care system had never been easy, and Chandler grew up more than any child should within the first five years of his life. It wasn’t abnormal for the young child to be in rooms with children twice his age, so from early on Chandler had to learn to take care of himself. From picking fights with the older boys for not sharing something he wanted, to doing whatever he could just to stay afloat in a society that didn’t seem to be fit for children of any age, Chandler knew he had to do something. After all, it wasn’t often that children as young as him were placed in group homes and not straight into the home of a loving foster home.

At the age of six - half way through his school year - Chandler was placed in his first ever foster home. After six years of being bounced between houses (most families didn’t want to keep him for more than a few nights, though Chandler never understood why) the boy settled in with his first foster family. A couple that seemed glorious on the outside, but once Chandler was inside the walls of their house things changed. The abuse started almost immediately, and though Chandler would do what he could to fight back, there was only so much a six year old was capable of accomplishing when it came to self defense. After six long months in their house, Chandler was sent back to the group home after the couple alleged that Chandler had been fighting with their son. From there - just like the six years before - he was bounced around from foster home to foster home for another two years. 

The morning of Chandler’s eighth birthday, he was awoken by child protective services taking him to his new foster home, the first true place Chandler would feel at home in his life. His foster home was with an elderly lady; a woman he called Grandma, but who’s real name was Edna, who had fostered and raised many babies in her lifespan. She was alone - her husband had passed a few years ago - and in her heart she felt like every child that came into her home was her own. In Edna’s care, Chandler’s grades started to improve - he was now a straight A student in everything - and his over all health began to improve. He joined the baseball team for the cities local kids club, he began to eat healthier, grow stronger, and most of all Chandler felt like he finally belonged. While his life at home could be a little slow - living with someone like Edna made a child seem a little old school - he was happy, and it was true that Edna had been the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Nearly seven years later - one month after Chandler turned thirteen - Edna passed away due to complications of a sickness, and the young teenager was now shipped to a new home, one for ‘troubled teens’ that they system was sure Chandler would fit right into ‘due to his troubled record’. Fortunately, this place was nicer than the place Chandler had been in before, unfortunately though, the children were meaner, causing Chandler to fight even harder to keep himself a float. As he finished off his last year of middle school, the male struggled to keep his grades up, but thankfully passed with decent grades. His A’s had turned to mostly C’s, but, it was a win in his book. 

Things never felt like they’d get easier, and before Chandler knew it, he was a junior in high school. He was dating as many people as he could get his hands on - no one really cared about high school flings right? - and he was rebelling in all the ways that people had accused him of for all of those years before. While Chandler honestly hated this lifestyle, he hated the way he felt even more. He didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere, and although he wanted to fit in worse than he wanted to breathe, he just couldn’t bring himself to stop his behavior. It was the only true thing that Chandler felt he had control of anymore. 

Senior year came in before he knew it, and it was time to start looking at colleges. Although, Chandler had no real need for college. He’d be aging out of the foster care system soon, so his plan was to work and find a place of his own so he wasn’t left out on the street. That of course, was until he met his English teacher, Ms. Spencer, who would change his life forever. Ms. Spencer was a single lady, someone who took her job seriously and had never married due to lack of interest. She’d always had a heart bigger than most around her, but that had never stopped her from doing her own thing and being better than those around her as well. Mia - that was Ms. Spencer’s first name - and Chandler had always bonded over Chandler’s love of literature and his eager desire to fit in, and Mia found herself doing whatever it took to give Chandler the home he deserved. Now his legal guardian - technically foster parent, but that was a term Chandler had always hated - Mia became the mother figure Chandler had always longed for. She was caring, compassionate, and all around the first place Chandler truly felt he was home. 

The month before Chandler’s eighteenth birthday, Mia adopted Chandler and became his mother legally, ending all of the grief, sorrow and overall stress that Chandler had felt for all of those years. He went to college - his major was education with a minor in literature - and the boy’s life in Wilmington seemed to be looking up. His grades were outstanding, and within three years of starting college he graduated with honors and became a teacher shortly after that. Chandler knew that none of his life would’ve played out the way that it had if it wasn’t for Mia Spencer. 

After working at a local diner to pay off student debt on top of the money he was making from teaching at the local elementary school, Chandler grew comfortable in Wilmington. He’d decided after receiving his bachelor’s degree that he wanted to extend his schooling to teach middle school - he remembered how much he longed to be welcomed and adored when he was that age - and the male did just that. Graduating with a master’s at the age of twenty eight, Chandler accepted a job in Gaia Cove, accepting his first middle school teaching job at the age of twenty nine. That’s when Chandler met Ophelia Thornwood, who Chandler would fall head over heels for. 

His life in Gaia Cove seemed to be more than he could ever dream. He loved his career, the friends he’d made, and the life he was living. Scared of commitment - after all, he’d been tossed around his entire life, so, why wouldn’t he be scared? - it took him a bit before he felt comfortable enough to try to build relationships, but once he did he knew he was where he belonged. Things with he and Ophelia seemed like a dream come true, and if you asked him, he would’ve never thought he could feel the way he felt about Ophelia towards anyone, yet, he knew without a doubt that Ophelia was the best thing that had ever happened to him. If you asked Chandler, she was the best part of his life, and he would go to his grave saying so.

Chandler was thankful, thankful for the life he had made for himself and the overall joy he’d found upon being in Gaia Cove. But, just like most times in Chandler’s life, when the rainbow seemed to be too much the storm would come and rear it’s nasty head again, and Chandler would find himself met with another life altering decision. At the age of 39 years old, Chandler caught word that his biological father was dying, and that his one request was to find and see his son before he died. While Chandler’s father never deserved for Chandler to give him a second chance, Chandler was bigger than that, and without a word to anyone in Gaia Cove Chandler left, with a short and simple goodbye letter the only thing he’d left behind. He moved back to the town he was born in - a small town in south Texas where his father had been his whole life - and spent the last few years he could trying to rebuild a relationship with his dad. Gaining the closure he needed to be content with the way things ended for them. Though while he was building new relationships with people that once had never cared about their son, Chandler’s heart ached. It ached for the love he left back in Gaia Cove, and the person that he’d left behind. Little did he know that Ophelia wasn’t the only thing he’d left behind; Ophelia had fallen pregnant just before Chandler disappeared, now causing Chandler to be exactly like the man he’d promised himself he’d never be. 

Five years later, Chandler is back in Gaia Cove, though his heart is still being mended back together from the loss he’d experienced so strongly over the years. He’s only been back for a few short months, and although he longs to see Ophelia again, to try to rebuild the trust and heal the hurt he knows he put her through, Gaia Cove is the place he knows he can rebuild himself. 

Chandler is played by Katelyn

[joyfullynervouscreator]

The Burned Prince c2

Oropher: by Kimberly @ Tolkiengateway.net

Nenglessel: Fairy Queen by Marilena Mexi

a note on people: Nenglessel│Nenalassië - mother of Bregolion, Nengeliel, Glaerdor and Thranduil. Wife of Faerbraichon│Oropher. Kinsman of Thingol through his brother Olwe. Falmarin/Telerin elleth who escaped the kinslaying of Alqualondë, pressed into service as a sailor by Fëanor and his Noldorin army. Faerbraichon│Oropher - father of Bregolion, Nengeliel, Glaerdor and Thranduil. Husband of Nenglessel│Nenalassië. Lord of House Brethil (House of Beech trees), a noble house of Doriath. Kinsman of Thingol. Hwiniedir│Thranduil - youngest child of Faerbraichon & Nenglessel. Named for his skill with a blade(Whirling one). Bronwe - Captain of Thranduil's personal guard and his best friend.

Glíweniel│Nínimeth - future wife of Hwiniedir│Thranduil. Only surviving child of Lore-Keeper Glíwen, clan Oakheart, and Chieftain Drauchir, clan Wolfstar, the two largest clans of the Nandorin who live in the vast Forest. Healer. Glíwen - Lore-Keeper of clan Oakheart, mother of Glíweniel and Drauchirion, gwathel(sworn sister) of Celebrimbor, the Smith-Lord of eregion. Eglossion - Glíweniel's best friend; a taciturn hunter assigned to her protection by Drauchir after the death of her brother.

“I have found Hwiniedir!” Bronwe’s breathless announcement rung through the small camp of the House of Brethil, causing an instant uproar. Lord Faerbraichon, whose leg was covered in bandages, making the limb stiff with a splint made from broken spears to keep his broken bones healing, jumped to his feet, nearly falling over in his haste to get to the armoured ellon. Behind him, Lady Nenglessel’s silvery hair streamed with the speed of her movement.

“My son lives?” she pleaded, looking past Bronwe as if Hwiniedir was simply hiding from her sight.

“My Lady,” the soldier knelt, “I swear to you, the young Lord lives. He was found by a pair of Nandorin, who have tended his wounds, but he is too weak to travel.” Nenglessel’s hand found her husband’s, squeezing tightly as she drew the first deep breath she had managed since he told her that their eldest had perished and the younger two were missing.

“And Glaerdor?” she whispered, as Faerbraichon bid young Bronwe stand. The Captain of her son’s guards – and Hwiniedir’s closest friend – rose slowly, bowing deeply.

“Lord Glaerdor perished from the dragon’s fire, standing between the fiend and his brother; the prince’s Nandorin rescuers buried his corpse.” Bronwe replied. Nenglessel barely felt the tears rolling down her face, as Faerbraichon’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her against his side.

“Thank you, Captain,” he mumbled hoarsely. “Go find yourself some food and then you may deliver your full report in our tent.”

“He is alive,” Nenglessel asked – pleaded – as she reached out to catch Bronwe’s arm, “tell me, my son is alive.” The Captain smiled gently, covering her hand with his own and lifting it from his arm, pressing his lips to her palm – among his kin the mark of a solemn oath.

“I spoke with him myself,” Bronwe swore, “he is hurt, but one of the two who found him was a true healer, and she said he will live. He was badly burnt, and he will bear the scars for all time, but he will live, my Lady.” Nenglessel nodded, believing him. With a final bow, Bronwe strode off in search of sustenance. Nenglessel found her hervenn’s hand, holding tight as she stared after the armoured warrior.

“Hwiniedir lives, Nena,” Faerbraichon murmured, kissing her ear.

“I wish to go to him,” Nenglessel said. Beside her, Faerbraichon sighed, kissing her temple. Pulling his lady into his chest, he felt her weep silently, her tears soaking his shoulder. For a long time, he did not speak, battling with his own tears as he stroked her hair. “I wish to go to him,” Nenglessel repeated, looking up at her husband’s grey eyes. Faerbraichon kissed her forehead.

“I wish to see our son, too, but we should let the Captain eat first, my Nenalassië,” he murmured, tugging her back towards their tent, using a broken halberd for a crutch. Nenglessel swore, momentarily distracted.

“Did I not tell you not to stand on that leg?!” she swatted at him. Faerbraichon chuckled.

“But our son is alive, meleth,” he replied, his breath leaving him in a gasp when Nenglessel picked him up and began carrying him back to their tent, tears still streaming down her face. “Hwiniedir lives, beloved,” the Lord of House Brethil whispered, when she had set him down on a low divan, cupping her face and pulling her down to him for a kiss.

“Glaerdor is gone,” Nenglessel whispered. “I knew it, somehow, melethron, but I tried to convince myself that I was wrong.” Crying, Nenglessel dropped into his lap, sobs shaking her shoulders as her fears of the past few days found release.

“I felt it too,” Faerbraichon replied hoarsely. He stroked her hair, his own tears falling like rain on her head, his arms crushing her against his chest as he let their shared grief overtake him. Faerbraichon hummed softly, his bulk reassuringly solid where they lay entwined on the low divan. “I believe we shall see him again, him and Bregolion, when we pass into the West ourselves. Then you can show us Alqualondë, and teach us all about the waves of your sea, how to sail the ships of Olwe’s people.”

“Do you think they will be happy there?” Nenglessel murmured, his quiet voice soothing her grief a little.

“Glaerdor will have so many new songs to learn, Nena, a whole new language, even!” Faerbraichon answered, hugging her close to his chest and pressing a kiss against the tip of her ear. “Bregolion will find new friends to test his mettle, I am sure of it. He has always been the most sociable of our elflings, even when he was small,” he murmured, smiling at the memory of his firstborn running along the streets of Doriath, playing with Lúthien and her friends. “I promise you, Nena, they will meet new kin, and find a new home in which to await our reunion.”

“I just… I can’t believe I will not hear their voices again,” Nenglessel wept. “My little boys.”

“I know,” he whispered back, “I keep expecting Bregolion to chide me for breaking my leg, or hear Glaerdor strumming his lyre… but Hwiniedir is alive, and that gives me hope.”

“Brego would tease you for years,” Nenglessel chuckled, tilting her tear-stained face up to catch his eyes.

“My sea-sprite,” he murmured, bending to kiss her. “We will weather this storm together; we will find our son and we will build a new home far away from wars started for greed, far away from any Noldor.”

“I wish I had never even heard the word Silmaril,” Nenglessel sighed, returning the soft affection. “I want that, Fea,” she murmured, “I want us to live in peace… and I believe we are close to the new home I have Seen. When we find the place of the snowdrops and the beech trees, we will build a home once more, my love.”

“House Brethil among beeches,” Faerbraichon smiled, “my Adar would have liked that, I think.” Nenglessel smiled softly, but she dozed off shortly after, letting Faerbraichon’s presence give her the comfort she needed to sleep – for the first time in days. Faerbraichon joined her; he might have joked about it, but Nenglessel was right to chide him for getting up and moving around – his leg was nowhere near mended enough for it, the complicated break requiring careful tending as it healed.

  Hwiniedir was sitting by the fire when he heard the sound of hooves striking the ground swiftly. When she looked up with alarm, dropping the spoon back into her pot, he realised that Glíweniel had heard it too.

“Bronwe is back,” he mumbled, his voice still too rough for much volume. The Nando relaxed slightly, returning to her task of stirring the broth.

“Sooner than I thought,” she murmured, giving him a sideways look. Hwiniedir wanted to smile at her, but the involuntary move hurt his face; speaking was painful enough, no need to add to his misery with extraneous facial movement he decided. Turning to face the first horse bursting into the clearing, he forgot his decision immediately, recognising the silver-blonde hair and the blue cloak immediately. He struggled to stand until Glíweniel sighed and moved to prop him up just as Nenglessel leapt from her horse.

“Naneth,” he croaked, reaching for her.

“Ionneg!” she cried out, staring at him as tears spilled from her blue eyes, wrapping him in an infinitely careful embrace. “Oh, my little one,” she whispered, which made him chuckle as he rested his chin on her head with little effort. Nenglessel looked up at him, cupping his face on the good side and drawing him down to kiss his undamaged cheek gently. “You are alive, my Hwiniedir,” she murmured, “I am so happy to see you.” Hwiniedir swallowed hard, reading the grief in her clear eyes.

“Glaerdor is gone, Naneth,” he whispered, tears welling in his remaining eye. Nenglessel hushed him.

“I know, ionneg, I know,” she murmured, wiping away his tears gently, “but we will see him again one day, and share with him all the tales he has missed.”

“Yes, Naneth,” Hwiniedir murmured, somehow soothed by the light touch of her fingertips, feeling the love she bore him envelop his weary heart.

“You must be the Nando healer who has been tending to my son’s wounds,” Nenglessel smiled, turning her face towards Glíweniel.

“Naneth, I want you to meet Nínimeth, who has tended my wounds and saved my life.” Rallying his spirit, even if he was swaying on his feet with fatigue, Hwinidir tried to push the elleth forward, only to stumble when she let go of him.

“Hwin!” they both cried, helping him sit down once more. Hwiniedir swayed, ending up leaning against his mother’s side. Glíweniel returned to her cooking, glancing back at him over her shoulder. Hwiniedir smiled at her – he tried to, at least, though it was replaced by a grimace of pain as the expression stretched his burnt skin unbearably.

“You are your Adar’s son, ionneg,” Nenglessel chuckled, giving him a pale version of her usual bright laughter. She stroked his remaining hair gently, humming a soothing melody.

“Ada is well?” he asked, relieved when she nodded. Bronwe had told him that Faerbraichon was injured, but not how severely.

“Broke his leg when his horse was killed beneath him,” Nenglessel murmured, “I have demanded he stay off it till it has healed a little more or he would have come with me to see you.” Trailing her hand down to squeeze his hand, she turned her attention to Glíweniel, who was fidgeting by the fire. Hwiniedir realised that he had introduced her by the epessë he had named her in his head when she blushed at looking at him. “You are Nínimeth?” Nenglessel asked thoughtfully. Glíweniel glared at him. Hwiniedir shrugged, but did not apologise. “I have never seen a crimson snowdrop, ionneg,” Nenglessel chided, but her voice was fond, “I am Nenglessel, Lady of House Brethil of Doriath.”

“Glíweniel,” Glíweniel muttered, still blushing, “daughter of Glíwen of clan Oakheart and Drauchir of clan Wolfstar.”

“Lady Nínimeth,” Nenglessel knelt, taking her hand and making Glíweniel lift her head sharply, “I thank you for the life of my son.”

“My name is not Nínimeth,” she objected, waving off Nenglessel’s thanks. The older elleth simply smiled, her blue eyes bright with the light of the trees she had lived beneath.

“It is an epessë, sweet one,” Nenglessel murmured, “one you will wear for many years, I feel.”

“Naneth Sees things,” Hwiniedir interjected, the shrewd look his mother gave him clearly conveying that they would be having a conversation about the crimson-haired elleth promptly. He returned the stare defiantly. Nenglessel smiled, her blue eyes sparkling.

“A Dream-seer?” Glíweniel wondered. Nenglessel nodded.

“I See many things,” she murmured, “and I have Seen a land where beeches and snowdrops grow together. We came east in search of this land; in search of peace.”

Glíweniel wrinkled her forehead in thought. Hwiniedir had a sudden impulse to smooth her skin with his fingers, discover if it was as soft as he believed. “There are groves of beech trees in the Forest,” she said, finally, “north of where we are now, mostly. I do not think you will find any to the south; there are linden trees there, and on the other side of the Hithaeglir you will find my Uncle’s lands, Eregion, which is mostly holly.”

Nenglessel smiled.

@life-is-righteous @pandepirateprincess @crimson-coloured-rrain

[dejaaalm]

Grandma

The last two weeks has been a blur! I went through a roller-coaster of different and mixed emotions—grief, sadness, sorrow, heartache, relief, joy, comfort, and even confusion. My husband’s maternal grandmother passed away peacefully and unexpectedly on President’s Day—Monday, February 18, 2019. It has been quite the transition for Scott’s family and I think we’re all trying to find our feet and get back to living a “normal” life again.

I can still remember Scott and me getting our kids ready that Monday morning because we were so excited to have the day off and take our kids to the Children’s Museum for a fun family day. Right after my husband buckled Evan and Lily in their car seats, he came inside and said that he was going to call his dad back because he missed his call. I told him okay and finished packing the kids’ snack bag. All of a sudden, just as I put my coat on, my husband opened the door, walked inside, and immediately grabbed me and cried on my shoulders. I asked him what was wrong. Then, I realized Scott said that he missed a call from his dad and that he was going to call him back. I started panicking and saying “No, no! Don’t tell me! No, no, no.” Scott whispered, “Dad texted and said that grandma passed.”

When I was a little girl, I was always so envious of other kids when they talked about how much they loved their grandparents or how much their grandparents loved them. I wondered a lot about what a grandparent’s love was like, and I often wondered what my grandparents were like. I never met any of my grandparents and I longed for one.

My paternal grandfather died when my dad was a young kid and my paternal grandmother remarried and left my dad and uncles behind with the Lee clan due to cultural restrictions. My maternal grandfather died from an illness shortly after my family arrived in the United States and my maternal grandmother was killed by Vietcong soldiers. We have no pictures of them—only vivid memories shared by what my parents can recall about their own parents. Were they loving? Were they funny? Were they good hunters and farmers? How did they meet each other and fall in love?

When I was in high school, one of my teachers asked the students to share a favorite memory of their grandparents. Everyone had a memory to share except me. When it was my turn, I said “I wish I had a memory to share but I never met any of my grandparents.” The teacher and some students were taken aback. “Not even one?” The teacher would ask. I would quietly nod and then we moved onto the next student.

Scott and I started dating in September of 2008. Two months later, he introduced me to his grandma—Grandma Blanche. She was the second person in his family that I met. I was so nervous to meet her. I wondered if I would be accepted or if she would like me because I was a different skin color. Grandma was, well, not what I expected. She was so funny and talkative. We clicked right away and the rest is history.

I have so many memories of her—barbequing in her back yard, raking her leaves, cleaning her basement, grocery shopping with her, Scott and I doing surprise visits, eating chicken chow mein in her dining room, and etc. Speaking of chicken chow mein, it is not a fancy Chinese dish. Most Asian people do not go to a Chinese restaurant to order chicken chow mein because it’s a boring dish. However, after meeting Scott and grandma, eating chicken chow mein grew on me. The only time I ate it was when we visited grandma.

Before Scott and I had kids, we would go over to cook dinner and play board games. Grandma loved watching us play Sequence and Phase 10 and she always cheered for me.

(Playing a fun game with grandma. I can’t remember the name of this game.)

One time at our Anoka home, I decided to invite my in-laws and grandma over for dinner. I cooked my first pot roast in our crockpot and baked my first apple pie. I think I did okay. I didn’t burn anything. Hopefully, they all enjoyed it. I can still remember sitting next to her and she said “This is delicious.”

Grandma and I had a lot of fun conversations about love, relationships, God, and even random stuff like trying to keep up with the Kardashians. There were nights where we just sat in her living room and talked for hours and laughed our butts off. We definitely shared a lot of funny moments. I loved hearing the stories about her and her husband and their quarrels of the past. Grandma loved learning about the Hmong culture. One time, PBS played a special documentary about the Hmong people and grandma was so excited to tell me all about it. She reminded me of a little child who drew a picture and couldn’t wait to show an adult what they drew. I could never forget how excited she was.

Grandma once told me that she knew Scott and I were meant to be together because she can see the twinkles in our eyes when we looked at each other.

When I was pregnant with Evan and Lily, grandma would always say “You are glowing” even when I didn’t feel that great about my physical appearance. I can still remember dropping off the kids for grandma to watch and picking them up after work. After work, I would stay around for a little bit to chat and hear her tell me about the day. One time, I dropped off the kids and grandma gave me a brown paper bag and said “Here’s your lunch. Take it and enjoy it.” She packed me a ham sandwich, apple, and some slices of cheese. Lol. Slices of cheese? That was random but my heart was so full that day.

(This was the brown lunch bag she packed for me. I posted this photo on my Facebook on 9/22/2014.)

Sometimes, after Sunday church service, my kids would beg to go see Grandma Blanche. As soon as we got there, Lily would quickly take off her shoes and socks and start digging in the fridge and Evan would quickly chat away with her about all the new things he’s learned. They loved visiting her.

After every encounter, grandma would hug me and kiss me on the cheek before leaving. Little did I know that this Valentine’s Day would be the last time I get a hug and kiss on the cheek from her.

On Valentine’s Day, we ordered two bouquet of flowers—one for my mother-in-law and one for grandma. Evan gave the first bouquet to my mother-in-law and then he quickly picked up the second bouquet and ran to the kitchen to give it to grandma. Scott decided to record this very moment too. We captured Evan handing grandma the bouquet of red carnations and Evan said “This is for you. It has a heart on there.” Grandma was ecstatic. We stayed for a little bit to hang out. Grandma baked some cupcakes and said that they were for Scott’s belated birthday. I was pretty hungry so I ate 3. The last conversation I had with Grandma that night was about the eye gel pads that I got her for Christmas. She wanted to know how to use them. I told her that all she needed to do was open the packaging and placed the pads under the eye and leave it there for 15-30 minutes and then discard it. The serum in the eye pads will make the appearance of the under eye look less dull. She was so excited and told me that she couldn’t wait to try them out. Before we left, we did our usual thing of hugging each other. I hugged grandma and she kissed my right cheek and said “I love you” and I replied “Love you too.”

My kids slept over on Valentine’s Day and spent the next day with my in-laws and grandma while Scott and I went to work. In case you didn’t know, Grandma moved in to live with my in-laws near the end of December last year, and then she sold her house the first week of January. Anyway, I was supposed to go have happy hour with my co-workers after work but I decided to stay home and bake an apple pie. Scott came home and wanted to go pick up the kids. I told him to wait for me because I wanted to share the apple pie with my in-laws and grandma too. Scott said that 50 minutes is a long time to wait for a pie so he left without me. I would have gotten to see grandma one more time and she would have gotten to eat my apple pie too.

Grandma Blanche was a blessing to me. God blessed me with a grandma for 10 years. I was showered with love—the kind I always yearned for from a grandparent.

I know that no one can escape death; it’s just part of the design God created. I’ll admit I am a bit greedy and I didn’t want grandma to go yet…or ever! Grandma only got to see our new house once. I told Scott that I regretted not being more aggressive about hosting Thanksgiving at our house last November. Grandma made a comment to us last summer that she didn’t want to host Thanksgiving anymore. She said “Let’s do it at your house. You guys have such a beautiful house.” The weeks prior to Thanksgiving, I urged Scott to invite everyone over and we can host Thanksgiving but he said that it wasn’t his decision to make so we let it go. Darn it!

I miss grandma. Even as I’m writing this, I miss her. I miss her big bright smile. I miss hearing her comforting voice. She was a giver, a supporter, and a comforter. Whenever I felt like I needed a boost of confidence, grandma was there to give that to me.

One of my favorite memories of grandma was after I gave birth to my daughter. We brought Lily over to grandma’s house so that she could see her. We told grandma that Lily’s middle name is Jane which is her middle name. The look on grandma’s face was priceless. I could tell that she was delighted and honored to hear that we named our little girl after her. I’m so glad that Scott and I decided to include that at the last minute because Rose was going to be Lily’s middle name. Our little Lily Rose Jane.

I’m sad that grandma isn’t here to be with us anymore. I’m sad that I won’t get to see her smile, hear her talk, or play games with her.

I’m happy that grandma lived a good life and was surrounded by people who loved and cared about her. I’m happy that she doesn’t have to worry about this crazy world anymore and can dance with the angels. I’m happy that she can be with her parents and husband again.

Thank you for all the love you’ve shown me and for being my grandma too.

I love you grandma and I hope you know that.

(Grandma ringing the bell at our wedding and pointing at us to kiss. Good times!)

[brandonleepenny]

Safely Home

“Safely Home” In 1969, Swiss psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross proposed a model that suggests there are five stages of grief. The theory holds that the stages are a part of the framework that help one learn to live without what they’ve lost. They were never meant to be complete or chronological, nor applied to all persons; the way a person moves through the stages is as unique as they are.

This is my telling of the day my dad died and the grieving process through the eyes of my brother, sister, mother, uncle, and myself. In private interviews I and asked them to describe their innermost thoughts and feelings throughout the aftermath of the death of Norman Penny; their father, husband, brother and most importantly, friend.

As organically as possible, I have constructed a story by piecing together a snippet from each interview to correlate with specific stages of the grieving process.

I'm afraid, however, I will not tell you everything. Time has a way of erasing the details and smoothing over the rough edges.  I assure you, you will know what you desire to know. You will be fed. I will be as honest and as accurate as I can be. I will tell you what I know to be true.

Although I am aware that putting two and two together is not a difficult task, some (if I felt it necessary) identifying details have been purposefully omitted (changing them is weird) to hopefully protect the privacy (and feelings?) of individuals and places involved. You’re welcome and I’m sorry.

The date was June 17th, 2006. A sunny Saturday exactly ten years ago today.

The local Rotary chapter of Burlington, CO was holding their annual pancake breakfast just after sunrise. My dad helped serve and brought along my little sister. She recalls, “As we were leaving, dad made sure I waved to his friends. He was always so nice to people. Dad would ask (quietly) what someone’s name was so he could be more personable and address them properly.”

I was up early for a swim meet and obviously hadn’t taken a razor to my face for a few days, so my dad (always clean shaven) suggested I do so. Oddly enough, I don’t even think I argued. Soon after, I headed next door to catch a ride with the Amundson family to the swim meet in Wray, CO.

After my events, I realized I had a missed phone call from home along with a voicemail. My dad had called to make sure I had gotten there safely, to see how I had done, and even asked if I needed a ride home (even though he knew I had gone with my neighbors). Soon enough, the meet had finally come to a close. I was hot, sunburned, and reeked of chlorine. Since we had been sitting in the van all day to avoid the sun, the car battery had died. Luckily, there was still a volunteer around cleaning up that had jumper cables.

By the time I got home, I was exhausted. However, seeing as it was still such a nice day out, I managed to find the energy to go on my own little adventure. I grabbed a bicycle from the back garage and was on my way leaving my shoes and Motorola TracFone behind. Just me and my curiosity.

I rode a few streets over and happened upon a familiar face. She was the ex-wife of my uncle Gary, my dad’s brother who he was was currently on a bike ride with. I stopped to say hello and compliment her recent yardwork. During our conversation, the all-too-familiar ambulance sirens went off. Of course, neither of us thought anything of it. You never do. Our chat quickly came to an end and I rode straight home, stopping for nothing. It was as if I was subconsciously destined to go home immediately.

I parked the bike back where I had found it and stepped through the back French doors into our dining room. The television was on, but nobody was home. Soon, Kathy Amundson, who had driven me to the swim meet earlier that morning, came over with a look of distress and confusion on her face. “What’s going on?” I asked. “Your father has been in a bicycle accident,” she stated. She offered to drive me to the hospital. I remember the exact dip in the road we plunged through as she assured me that everything would be okay. I wanted to believe her. In fact, I did. How could something possibly so tragic happen so quickly and unexpectedly? Especially to me.

Stage One: Denial Gary Penny-brother to the late Norman Penny, present at time of death “I remember while riding turning and saying, “That’s enough Norman.” He was pushing too hard. Exercised like a 25-year-old. Norm had taken a stress test weeks before that promised to be 70% accurate. We have a family history of heart problems. After he fell off his bike, I held Norm’s head in my lap and thought time had slowed down. It seemed to be taking forever for help to arrive.”

As we pulled into the parking lot of the Kit Carson Memorial Hospital, I jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs to the double doors. I remember frantically searching for the waiting room. When I found it, my brother, mom, and Grandma Dorothy (my dad’s mother) were sitting with their heads down. The tears immediately followed. I still didn’t have any idea what had happened. I later learned that my mom and brother had been at home upon receiving a phone call from Gary saying they needed to get to the hospital. Norman had been in an accident and they were having a hard time getting his heart started. They immediately drove to the hospital while holding hands reassuring themselves that it was going to be okay. When they arrived, they were told to wait in the waiting room as the doctors continued their efforts to revive my dad. My sister showed up shortly after. She had been watching a softball game across town.

The doctor came out of the operating room where they had been trying to start my dad’s heart, knelt down, and grabbed my mom’s hands. Through deeply saddened eyes, he spoke clearly, “I’m sorry, there’s nothing else we can do...we’ve done everything we can.” Truth is, he was gone before he hit the ground. My family and I sought comfort in knowing he didn’t suffer.

A few steps away, tucked into a corner room was my father. As we walked in, I noticed many things. The shirt my dad had been wearing was cut down the middle in order to make operating easier, his glasses were scratched from the pavement, all of the machines were just being shut down, and a few of the medics were slowly making their way out as to leave us alone.

He looked so peaceful, so humble. It hurt to see my grandma. My mom recalls her stroking his hair. She had outlived her husband and just like that, her firstborn. You’re not supposed to outlive your children. I remember looking into his beautiful blue eyes, one of the many obvious things I had gotten from him. His hair was silver and his skin pale. We were reassured we’d be able to see him again, and left.

Time of death: 6:20p. Age: 54. Cause: Cardiorespiratory Arrest.

Stage Two: Anger Christopher Penny [17]-Noman’s oldest son “I wish he was around. I do. I wish he was there to guide me through life. To help deal with things I had to do on my own, though mom was here. I graduated college [at Colorado University] without dad. I imagine there would have been less...turbulence in life. It’s kind of like an anchor that’s gone, I guess.”

The drive home in my dad’s pick-up was the worst. When my mom and brother had left the house for the hospital, my mom had been baking peanut butter cookies and left the oven on. A thoughtful neighbor noticed and thankfully turned the oven off.

As you can imagine, we cried. Immediately countless people shoved their way into our home to show their support and sorrow. I didn’t mind the company, but it was almost an overwhelming feeling to see just how much people really did care. I remember, the preacher’s wife picked up a photo of him from a bookshelf and said to me, “No, it’s wrong. He wasn’t supposed to go.”

That night, my mom, brother, sister, and I cried ourselves to sleep in my mom’s bed. I can still remember how painful my face felt as I sobbed myself into unconsciousness. We would wake up the next day, Sunday, June 18th, 2006: Father’s Day. We were together, but very much alone.

Stage Three: Bargaining Susanne Penny-Norman’s wife, three days short of their 20th wedding anniversary

“I would give anything to...I think about this a lot...have had him at home four more years. All that you kids accomplished in high school that Grandma Dorothy and I were so proud of. Your Eagle Scout, Christopher’s State Wrestling Championship, Danielle’s graduation from middle school. Just to get you three through high school. You were so young to not have a dad. I’m 58 and both of my parents are still alive. A local confided in me after Norm’s passing. He confessed that he drank like a fish, smoked like a haystack, and took multiple medications every night and here Norm was, healthy as can be. Icon of healthiness. An upstanding citizen in community. I would give any amount of money in a heartbeat to have had Norm for four more years.”

The morning of the funeral my mom told us kids to write a note that we would place in a compartment located in the casket. Sewn onto the upper lining of the top half was the phrase, “May the work I’ve done speak for me”. Such a simple task felt immensely overwhelming. There was so much left unsaid. So many questions unanswered. I finally decided to just tell him that I loved and missed him very much and that anything else I was thinking and wanting to tell him, he already knew because those are just the kind of powers he had now.

The funeral was phenomenal. It was a gorgeous day. Over 800 people packed the United Methodist Church in Burlington, CO on 13th street. So full, in fact, that there were chairs and televisions set up in the basement and educational building streaming the service. You were lucky to be standing.

Stage Four: Depression Danielle Penny [13]-Norman’s youngest daughter

“What makes me sad a lot is the void that is now here. If dad were here, our lives would be different. Relationships would be different. Mom would be different because she'd have him. I tried being more of a strong person than a sorrowful person. Suffering and living a sorrowful life wasn't pushed at the time. It was more living through and being strong. Family helped us through that time and didn’t allow much room for sorrow. When you're 13...the mindset of a 13 year old...well, if it were to happen to me now, it would have been different. I’m a totally different person now than I was at 13.”

The service was difficult, but comforting. The preacher knew my father well which was reassuring. Ironically enough, the first funeral he performed when he moved to our town was for Gene Penny (my grandfather) and the last was my dad. We closed the ceremony with one of my dad’s favorite hymns, “On Eagle’s Wings”. I remember being angry that the wrong page number was announced, but it seemed everyone knew the words by heart.

I wore a pinstriped suit that had belonged to my dad. It was the same suit my dad had seen me wear to my first prom, a few weeks prior, freshman year. (The Burlington Class of 2009 would experience the loss of a parent each year of high school. I was the second.) If I remember correctly, it was also the suit he wore in his and my mom’s engagement photo. I chose the outfit specifically because I distinctly remember him telling me that I looked sharp and knew he’d approve.

We were the first to leave the church and were transported to Fairview Cemetery a few blocks away. Policemen escorted the hearse and firefighters closed streets and directed traffic. That’s something you don’t see every day. I get the shivers when I think of just how much the people in my community respected my father.

Stage Five: Acceptance Brandon Penny [15]-Norman’s second child

As I was researching material for this piece, I dug up my dad’s Creative Writing journal from his senior year of high school in 1970. Written in perfect cursive: "When it comes time to die, whether it be natural or otherwise, one should feel good to know that he has lived life to the best of his ability without feeling any shame."

During my interviews, I realized that everyone had different (or no) thoughts on stages 1-4, but everyone unknowingly agreed on the final stage: acceptance. You can’t change things. You can’t bring people back. You can’t be sad forever about what you don’t have anymore. Time doesn’t stop. There’s nothing you can do about it and that’s okay. Life goes on and doesn’t wait for you. You can’t lay in bed. You have to get up and get dressed. You’ve got kids to raise, you’ve got work to do. You must be grateful for what you have.

Throughout the years, I feel like acceptance just kind of came. It happened on its own. It would have been more difficult to accept had I fought the truth, the reality. Grandma Dorothy became our rock. She stepped into dad’s shoes in supporting us. Our immediate and extended family grew closer.

He lives on in us. I once had someone tell me that they wish they could have met my dad. I smiled and said,

“You already have.”

[karasunosun]

TsukiHina Royalty AU Backstory

I detailed the royalty au more. @assholeprincetsukishima, please feel free to take Tsukki’s backstory and change it to your liking.

Shouyou

Shouyou is the first born son of the King and Queen. He belongs to the Hinata household, a royal family of the gold and white sun. His father was a kind King who brought peace to the kingdom when he won the crown. Shouyou’s birth was met with joy and celebration as the first born. The castle’s bells rang for hours on end to announce his birth. Without a doubt he was the king’s son with his bright red hair and cheerful smile. Shouyou was raised with the hope that he would never have to fight for his crown. His father worked hard to make peace with their enemies, just to keep him safe. The focus of his studies was more how to rule rather than how to fight. To balance this, others were trained to protect the young ruler. Shouyou has two older half brothers from his mother’s side who became knights in order to protect him. His maternal uncles were already experienced warriors who joined the king’s guard to defend them as well. His two paternal uncles swore an oath to protect him at all costs. He had a strong circle of allies to protect him as he learned and grew.

With his father working hard to make his kingdom safe, Shouyou spent more time with his mother and her family. He learned much from them, especially his maternal grandmother. He loved listening to her stories of family history, love, war, fairy tales or just plain gossip. He always knew that his mother and grandmother were different. Their intuition was incredibly sharp and the things they talked about were strange. The first time he got a close look into their magic, he was about seven years old. His father’s cousin had recently betrayed them and he was sailing to another kingdom to meet with their enemies. His mother was hurt by his betrayal since he had killed her brother and father in cold blood. They didn’t do anything wrong and it hurt. His grandmother took it the hardest since she had lost both a son and a husband. In their grief, Shouyou witnessed them conjuring a storm in hopes of sinking the cousin’s boat. It backfired in the worst possible way and to this day, his mother refuses to talk about it.

Growing up, Shouyou and his family experienced a lot of betrayal. His father’s cousin and middle brother betrayed them to steal the crown. They failed the first time but succeeded the second time with the help of their enemy, the Tsukishima family. Shouyou and his family had to hide in sanctuary twice, especially since his life as the first born was in danger. The people loved the Hinata family and that made the heir a threat to their enemies if they wanted to rule. Once Shouyou’s father defeated his cousin in battle and won the crown once more, the road was still rocky. Shouyou’s father forgave his brother and imprisoned the Tsukishima king until his death. The Tsukishima King’s heir died in battle and his line had ended. The next in line for the Tsukishima family had fled the kingdom and was not considered a threat. Years later, the brother betrayed the King once more and was sentenced to death. After that, there was peace.

Shouyou grew up to be a young strong adult learning about politics, history and diplomacy. His younger sister Natsu also grows up into her early teenage years watching sword fights in awe. Their father gives her a starter sword to practice with, wanting to teach her everything he knows. Meanwhile Shouyou’s mother notices that Shouyou ended up with their affinity instead of Natsu as she expected. She teaches him basics such as scrying and card reading. Despite this, they did not foresee that the King would fall ill shortly after Shouyou’s 20th birthday.

The King was struck with a high fever and kept coughing up blood. Nothing could help him at that point. He passes away a few weeks later but not before preparing everything. He declared that his younger brother will be lord protector for Shouyou. He will take care of the king’s responsibilities until Shouyou can be crowned after a period of mourning. He voiced his regret that he cannot witness what kind of King his son will be but that he was still proud of him. With his passing, chaos began once again.

Kei

Kei is the second born son of the Earl Tsukishima. He belongs to the Tsukishima family, a royal family of the blood red moon. He is the nephew of the Tsukishima king who ruled the kingdom before Shouyou’s father. The king only had one heir, which puts Kei’s older brother Akiteru next in line for the throne and Kei after him. Kei was born after the Hinata king came into power and had his first born son. His family was allowed to keep their lands and titles despite being long time rivals of the Hinata family. The kind king only wanted to make peace with his enemies, which Kei and Akiteru grew up seeing and admiring. Many of their family members wanted to put the old Tsukishima king back in power despite the fact that he was cruel towards his people. Kei grew up surrounded by plots and talks of war within his family. He just wanted the fighting to stop.

He and his brother Akiteru were trained to become knights per their mother’s suggestion. She had hopes that one of her sons could become king one day. Their father used to be a commander and fully trained them himself. The brothers enjoyed learning how to fight but they had no desire to rule.

As the boys grew, the king would petition for them to be part of his son’s court. The king wanted to make peace and wanted to offer the family a position in the court. The boys’ mother refused every offer, not wanting her sons to be affiliated with the young Hinata prince. She felt it would ruin her sons’ chances of ruling under the Tsukishima family. The Tsukishima king was still out there; his family was waiting for the right moment to strike back for the crown. The boys grew up strong, safely in their lands until Akiteru became of age. Then he left home and accepted the king’s offer to be a part of his court.

The Tsukishima family did not take the ‘betrayal’ well. Kei himself was conflicted. Akiteru didn’t tell him he was going to do this and leave him alone at home. At the same time, he was jealous. He wished he could leave and join the court as well. He’s heard a lot about the royal court and of the young prince his age. He’s always been intrigued about the royal family who brought peace and won the love of the people. With Akiteru gone, Kei realizes that now their mother is going to put all her hopes of her son being king on him. At first he ignores Akiteru’s letters and gifts until he slowly forgives him over the years.

The first time Kei goes to the castle is when the Tsukishima king stole back the crown with the help of the Hinata king’s brother and cousin. The royal family had fled to sanctuary while the Hinata king left to seek help from allies. Despite the castle’s beauty, the environment was strange. The court members were somber at the Tsukishima king’s return. Kei went with his parents to visit and meet his uncle the king for the first and last time. The king blessed him and named him his heir. His own son died in the battle to win the crown and had no more heirs. He names Kei as his successor and heir since Akiteru is now loyal to the Hinata family. Kei had hoped to see his brother during his visit but Akiteru was gone, protecting the royal family he believes is true.

Not long after, the Hinata king comes back ready to battle. His allies consisted of noblemen, common folk and soldiers from neighboring kingdoms. His own brother who betrayed him came back to fight with him, admitting his own foolishness and wanting redemption. Hinata’s father defeats the Tsukishima king in battle and wins his crown once more. His cousin dies in battle, his brother’s titles are restored and the Tsukishima king is imprisoned in the tower until his death. Kei was now the next in line for their family. Kei’s mother makes a difficult decision and sends her son Kei away with his father to allies in a neighboring kingdom. He is to train and raise an army there in hopes of winning the crown once he’s older. His mother stays and makes another difficult decision. She swallows her pride and accepts the offer to be a part of the Queen Hinata’s court. It gives her the opportunity to spy on the royal family for her son.

Kei spent years in exile in another kingdom; training, learning and gaining allies for his cause. He comes of age strong but hesitant. He never forgot about his home and how kind the royal family was. He admired how they ruled the kingdom, doing everything for the people and bringing peace. Kei only wished to end the wars that have gone back and forth for years. Shortly before his 20th birthday, Kei received an urgent letter from his mother.

A lot had happened in a short amount of time in the kingdom. The Hinata king passed away from illness, leaving his youngest brother as lord protector until his son and heir Shouyou can be crowned. The youngest brother used his power as lord protector, convinced the court that the marriage between the late King and the queen was a farce and that makes Shouyou and his sister illegitimate to the throne. He then took the crown for himself as a true Hinata heir and imprisoned the young prince in the tower. The kingdom was outraged and retaliated out of love for the late king and his family. The new king had hoped that taking away Shouyou’s right to the throne would make the people loyal to him, but it backfired and now the people are against him. The Hinata queen reached out for help, fearing that her son’s life is in danger because of this.

Kei’s mother sees this as an opportunity and asks him to come back with his army. Through letters between him and the queen, a deal is made. If Kei assists in rescuing Shouyou from the tower and is successful, the queen offers him her son’s hand in marriage. If they marry, a Hinata and a Tsukishima could rule the kingdom together and end the wars with their unity. Both houses and armies can come together and win the crown from the usurper. Kei agrees to the plan and goes back home with his army ready. It was only a matter of time until he was to be engaged so he doesn’t hesitate. This way, everyone gets what they want. Kei’s mother will have a king. Shouyou’s mother gets her son back and he will be king as well. Kei gets to bring peace to the kingdom for good and that’s all he ever wanted.

[hipsterbrutus]

Changed Pronouns Hamlet

So I wanted to see what a classic story like Hamlet would be like if all the male characters were female and vice versa. So I just took the Wikipedia summary, and changed only the names and pronouns. The results really interested me, and I think this would be a very epic play...  Disclaimers: 1. I changed some of the names more than others, mainly because some of them were so ingrained in my head as one gender or another that I needed to distance myself further from that association. 2. I chose to go with the name ‘Amla’ as a feminized tribute to the original historical Prince Amleth, on whom Hamlet is based. 3. I chose to use binary male/female genders for this experiment because I wanted to explore the contrasts and stereotypes of the roles that we expect binary male and female characters in literature to fulfill. (The only gender neutral change I made was to change ‘What a piece of work is a man’ to ‘humanity’ instead, since it is used in a gender neutral way in the play. I am aware that this would necessitate further challenges with the wordplay on ‘man’ that follows in the actual script, but this change suffices for now.) All that to say, non-binary version of this story or of some of the characters therein would also be epic as well, and if you write that one I would love to read it. 

Act I

The protagonist of Amla is Princess Amla of Denmark, daughter of the recently deceased Queen Amla, and niece of Queen Claudia, her mother's sister and successor. Claudia hastily married Queen Amla's widower, Gerald, Amla's father, and took the throne for herself. Denmark has a long-standing feud with neighbouring Norway, in which Queen Amla slew Queen Floria of Norway in a battle some years ago. Although Denmark defeated Norway and the Norwegian throne fell to Queen Floria's infirm sister, Denmark fears that an invasion led by the dead Norwegian queen's daughter, Princess Floria, is imminent.

On a cold night on the ramparts of Elsinore, the Danish royal castle, the sentries Bernadette and Marcella discuss a ghost resembling the late Queen Amla which they have recently seen, and bring Princess Amla's friend Hanna as a witness. After the ghost appears again, the three vow to tell Princess Amla what they have witnessed.

As the court gathers the next day, while Queen Claudia and King Gerald discuss affairs of state with their elderly adviser Polina, Amla looks on glumly. During the court, Claudia grants permission for Polina's daughter Laetitia to return to school in France and sends envoys to inform the Queen of Norway about Floria. Claudia also scolds Amla for continuing to grieve over her mother and forbids her to return to her schooling in Wittenberg. After the court exits, Amla despairs of her mother's death and her father's hasty remarriage. Learning of the ghost from Hanna, Amla resolves to see it herself.

As Polina's daughter Laetitia prepares to depart for a visit to France, Polina offers her advice that culminates in the maxim "to thine own self be true.” Polina's son, Orpheus, admits his interest in Amla, but Laetitia warns him against seeking the princess' attention, and Polina orders him to reject her advances. That night on the rampart, the ghost appears to Amla, telling the princess that she was murdered by Claudia and demanding that Amla avenge her. Amla agrees, and the ghost vanishes. The princess confides to Hanna and the sentries that from now on she plans to "put an antic disposition on", or act as though she has gone mad, and forces them to swear to keep her plans for revenge secret; however, she remains uncertain of the ghost's reliability.

Act II

Soon thereafter, Orpheus rushes to his mother, telling her that Amla arrived at his door the prior night half-undressed and behaving erratically. Polina blames love for Amla's madness and resolves to inform Claudia and Gerald. As she enters to do so, the Queen and King finish welcoming Rosaline and Genevieve, two student acquaintances of Amla, to Elsinore. The royal couple has requested that the students investigate the cause of Amla's mood and behaviour. Additional news requires that Polina wait to be heard: messengers from Norway inform Claudia that the Queen of Norway has rebuked Princess Floria for attempting to re-fight her mother's battles. The forces that Floria had conscripted to march against Denmark will instead be sent against Poland, though they will pass through Danish territory to get there.

Polina tells Claudia and Gerald her theory regarding Amla's behaviour and speaks to Amla in a hall of the castle to try to uncover more information. Amla feigns madness and subtly insults Polina all the while. When Roseline and Genevieve arrive, Amla greets her "friends" warmly but quickly discerns that they are spies. Amla admits that she is upset at her situation but refuses to give the true reason, instead commenting on "What a piece of work is humanity". Roseline and Genevieve tell Amla that they have brought along a troupe of actors that they met while traveling to Elsinore. Amla, after welcoming the actors and dismissing her friends-turned-spies, asks them to deliver a soliloquy about the death of the Queen and King at the climax of the Trojan War. Impressed by their delivery of the speech, she plots to stage The Murder of Gonzaga, a play featuring a death in the style of her mother's murder and to determine the truth of the ghost's story, as well as Claudia’s guilt or innocence, by studying Claudia's reaction.

Act III

Polina forces Orpheus to return Amla's love letters and tokens of affection to the princess while she and Claudia watch from afar to evaluate Amla's reaction. Amla is walking alone in the hall as the Queen and Polina await Orpheus's entrance, musing whether "to be or not to be". When Orpheus enters and tries to return Amla's things, Amla accuses him of immodesty and cries "get thee to a monastery", though it is unclear whether this, too, is a show of madness or genuine distress. Her reaction convinces Claudia that Amla is not mad for love. Shortly thereafter, the court assembles to watch the play Amla has commissioned. After seeing the Player Queen murdered by her rival pouring poison in her ear, Claudia abruptly rises and runs from the room; for Amla, this is proof positive of her aunt's guilt.

Gerald summons Amla to his chamber to demand an explanation. Meanwhile, Claudia talks to herself about the impossibility of repenting, since she still has possession of her ill-gotten goods: her sister's crown and husband. She sinks to her knees. Amla, on her way to visit her father, sneaks up behind her but does not kill her, reasoning that killing Claudia while she is praying will send her straight to heaven while her mother's ghost is stuck in purgatory. In the King's bedchamber, Amla and Gerald fight bitterly. Polina, spying on the conversation from behind a tapestry, calls for help as Gerald, believing Amla wants to kill him, calls out for help himself.

Amla, believing it is Claudia, stabs wildly, killing Polina, but she pulls aside the curtain and sees her mistake. In a rage, Amla brutally insults her father for his apparent ignorance of Claudia's villainy, but the ghost of her mother re-enters and reprimands Amla for her inaction and harsh words. Unable to see or hear the ghost himself, Gerald takes Amla's conversation with it as further evidence of madness. After begging the King to stop sleeping with Claudia, Amla leaves, dragging Polina's corpse away.

Act IV

Amla jokes with Claudia about where she has hidden Polina's body, and the Queen, fearing for her life, sends Roseline and Genevieve to accompany Amla to England with a sealed letter to the English Queen requesting that Amla be executed immediately.

Unhinged by grief at Polina's death, Orpheus wanders Elsinore. Laetitia arrives back from France, enraged by her mother's death and her brother's madness. Claudia convinces Laetitia that Amla is solely responsible, but a letter soon arrives indicating that Amla has returned to Denmark, foiling Claudia's plan. Claudia switches tactics, proposing a fencing match between Laetitia and Amla to settle their differences. Laetitia will be given a poison-tipped foil, and, if that fails, Claudia will offer Amla poisoned wine as a congratulation. Gerald interrupts to report that Orpheus has drowned, though it is unclear whether it was suicide or an accident caused by his madness.

Act V

Hanna has received a letter from Amla, explaining that the princess escaped by negotiating with pirates who attempted to attack her England-bound ship, and the friends reunite offstage. Two gravediggers discuss Orpheus’s apparent suicide while digging his grave. Amla arrives with Hanna and banters with one of the gravediggers, who unearths the skull of a jester from Amla's childhood, Yora. Amla picks up the skull, saying "alas, poor Yora" as she contemplates mortality. Orpheus's funeral procession approaches, led by Laetitia. Amla and Hanna initially hide, but when Amla realizes that Orpheus is the one being buried, she reveals herself, proclaiming her love for him. Laetitia and Amla fight by Orpheus's graveside, but the brawl is broken up.

Back at Elsinore, Amla explains to Hanna that she had discovered Claudia's letter with Roseline and Genevieve's belongings and replaced it with a forged copy indicating that her former friends should be killed instead. A foppish courtier, Osra, interrupts the conversation to deliver the fencing challenge to Amla. Amla, despite Hanna's pleas, accepts it. Amla does well at first, leading the match by two hits to none, and Gerald raises a toast to her using the poisoned glass of wine Claudia had set aside for Amla. Claudia tries to stop him but is too late: he drinks, and Laetitia realizes the plot will be revealed. Laetitia slashes Amla with her poisoned blade. In the ensuing scuffle, they switch weapons, and Amla wounds Laetitia with her own poisoned sword. Gerald collapses and, claiming he has been poisoned, dies. In her dying moments, Laetitia reconciles with Amla and reveals Claudia's plan. Amla rushes at Claudia and kills her. As the poison takes effect, Amla, hearing that Floria is marching through the area, names the Norwegian princess as her successor. Hanna, distraught at the thought of being the last survivor and living whilst Amla does not, says she will commit suicide by drinking the dregs of Gerald's poisoned wine, but Amla begs her to live on and tell her story. Amla dies in Hanna's arms, proclaiming "the rest is silence". Floria, who was ostensibly marching towards Poland with her army, arrives at the palace, along with an English ambassador bringing news of Roseline and Genevieve's deaths. Hanna promises to recount the full story of what happened, and Floria, seeing the entire Danish royal family dead, takes the crown for herself and orders a military funeral to honour Amla.

[screamingoutintothevoid-blog]

The Peacekeeper In The Land Of  Warriors

I have opened up over the years of what it was like growing up for me

Everything in this story is true but the names of the people have been changed.

Chapter One: Last Chance 

The year was 1991 in Atlanta, Georgia and my mother was pregnant with me.  My Mother had been married to my father for quite a few years at this point. They were in love but my mother was watching the man she loved so much fading away into someone else she didn't recognize. This was not the product of fading love but of a tragedy consuming the whole of a person.  I was the product of my mother trying to save the man that she loved from ending his life.   My mother was from Pennsylvania. My Mother had met a man named Kip and this would be the father of my older half brother. I was never told how they met or how they fell in love but my mother at the age of 18 had gotten pregnant and she and Kip got married.  My mother had a healthy baby boy who they name Kevin in February 1980. I do not know how the abuse started or if it was underlying the whole time, but my mother suffered at the hands of her husband. As my brother got a bit older my mother got increasingly more worried about not only of her own survival but of her child also. She found herself not being able to continue to lie about were her bruise and injuries came from anymore. This man was taking away everything she loved and beating her further down. My mother was a survivor and even when she was unsure of how she was going to survive and was filled with doubt and fear she pushed through.   My mother started hiding money and escape bags for her and Kevin.  She acted normal and continued to take the abuse knowing that it was only a matter of time before she had everything she needed to leave and this would be over.  Finally, one day she had everything she needed and when he left for work she moved fast knowing that she could only take the bare essentials. She grabbed her bags and Kevin and fled to a safe place where he could no longer touch her. She filed for divorce and she was now a single mother on her own.  Surviving her marriage would not be the only time she would need to be strong. During this time my mother will learn the hard lesson of how to be even stronger. My mother had known my father from high school and he was the popular kid that everyone wanted to be friends with. My Mother was bullied in school and was tormented by her classmates.  One day my father was running down the school hallway and he ran into her knocking her to the floor.  He kept running and fled up the school's stairs even after my mom yelled at him for being so rude. She picked up her scattered books and scoffing  to herself " wouldn't that be funny if HE was turned out to be my husband." My parents graduated high school and went on with their lives forgetting each other until years to come. My mother had been divorced for a while and was living her life with Kevin. She was living in this old one bedroom apartment and worked as much as could to keep that roof over their head and food on the table. This was not an easy task to do, but she always found a way to provide for Kevin and herself.  My mother would have Kevin sleep in the bed in the bedroom she took the couch in the living room.  My mother by this point was in the process of becoming more of a warrior, but lessons that teach you how to survive are not easy ones.   One Night my mother had some friends she had known for a while come over to her apartment. It started getting late and time for Kevin to go to bed so my mother put him to bed and had everyone left shortly after. My mother did her normal routine of turning on the t.v and letting the sounds of the t.v drift her off to sleep. While she was sleeping the t.v turned off suddenly and my mother woke up immediately know that Kevin would never turn off the t.v. Someone who was not supposed to be in her house was and she had to protect herself and Kevin. My mother reached for her Shot Gun and cocked her loaded gun and yelled " Turn back on the fucking T.V NOW or I will shoot" The man started to yell " WOAH! WOAH! it's me! Jerry! Don't Shoot!" and the light of the t.v filled the room and there stood in my mother living room one of her friends. She still held the gun facing him and demanding to know how he had gotten into her house. He told her that the front door was unlocked.  My mother then pressed "Why are you in my house!" Everything in my mom was yelling that this man was there to harm her. He had said he had seen the t.v on and was turning it off for her. My mother could smell the bullshit coming off this man. She locked eyes with him to make sure he understood she was not messing around. " If I EVER catch you in my house again I will shoot you next time. This is your ONLY Warning. If it is between you or me it will be ME. Now Get THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE. NOW!"  The man ran out of the house and my mother locked the door behind him. She did not sleep that night.  She learned that you can't trust anyone. Time has passed and Kevin was three years old now and it was still him and my mom. My mother and my dad had a mutual friend that worked at the grocery store. One day my mother went to the store and saw my dad talking to her friend. She came up and said hello to her friend and my dad introduced himself to my mother. She looked at him and told him that she had already known him from high school, and brought up when he knocked her down in the hallway. My dad was slightly embarrassed that he hadn't remembered her and how rude he was He apologized for being rude. My mother and father met again a few times after that as if fate was now pushing them together. Though my dad was engaged to his girlfriend there was something pulling him towards my mother.  The day that sealed there fate together was New Year Eve.  My mother did not have a date for the New Years Eve Party and she was bummed about not having a New Years Midnight Kiss. My father's fiance suggested that he be her midnight kiss since she didn't really care about New Years. My mother and Father locked eyes as the count down began. My mother's heart pounding in her chest.  When their lips met it felt as if fireworks had exploded inside them.  My father's fiance got upset about the kiss even though she was the one who said to go ahead with it. My mother still dazed by the kiss said thanks and walked through the kitchen door and fell against the wall clutching her chest and whispered "wow". It was not long after that kiss that my fathers relationship with his fiance had fallen apart. My father was drawn to my mother and wouldn't deny it anymore. They started dating and their bond grew stronger and stronger as time went on. My father was going to Penn State and his family even though they had money chose to leave my father to figure out how to survive on his own. My dad's stepfather dropped my dad at an apartment and gave him $500 and told him that he will need to figure out the rest. My father struggled to survive and was barely eating while going to school full time and working. My mother would bring him a casserole every weekend to try to give him something to eat. My father and his roommate would make the casserole stretch as long as they could eating sometimes only one time a day. My father in desperation for food tried to catch a cat to eat it. Luckily the cat was to fast for him and got away and nothing became of any other cat. After my dad graduated from Penn State he was trying to find a job but during this time in Pennsylvania jobs were scarce and it was getting harder and harder to survive there. My mother and father got information that Atlanta, Georgia had a lot of job openings and low cost of living. This was something that was not an easy choice to uproot their lives and to move away from everything they knew, but if they wanted to survive they had to make the hard choice and move.  They moved to Georgia and lived in an apartment for a while until they bought their first home together. It was hard being so far away from home but they were doing better here than if they had stayed in Pa. April 1990 My father had gotten home from work and was drinking a beer in the living room when he got a call from his little brother who was 16 at the time. It went to the answering machine and Mike asked my dad to call him back. My mother had a really bad feeling and told my dad he should call him back, but my dad brushed her off and said " I will call him later"  That night my mother woke up in cold sweat. She had just the most real feeling nightmare she had. She woke up my father shaking and told him her dream. It was of Mike shooting himself in the head and he was bleeding out on the floor screaming for his mom. A few hours later the phone rang and it was my dad's mom calling to tell him Mike had committed suicide. My mother and father rushed back to Pa. My father not only shaken that his little brother committed suicide but that his wife had dreamt of his brother death.  Standing in the living room of the house Mike lived in my mother pointed to the room that Mike had died and said " He died in that room" Everyone looked at her and asked her how she knew that. My mother said " I dreamt it"  In her dream, she saw him pulled the trigger.  Tragically he did not die immediately he shot off part of the back of his throat and skull. He laid there screaming for his mother in agony as he bled out on the floor. His best friend tried to revive him by performing CPR on him. Mike Died on that floor in April 1990 and so did a part of my father. My father blamed himself for not calling Mike back and moving so far away from him. My fathers family turned on him and blamed him too even though it was no one fault. This was someone who was in pain and wanted the pain to stop. They needed someone to blame and they made my father the scapegoat. My father and his family had a falling out after that.  My mother was watching grief take her husband away.  My father started developing a drinking problem and became unstable. My mother came home early after picking up Kevin from daycare. She opened the front door to blood everywhere. My father was in our living room making a suicide video and slit his wrists on the family couch. He was going to join his little bother in death. My mother ran in told Kevin to go upstairs as my mother called 911 and was trying desperately to stop the bleeding. My dad was drunk and sobbing covered in his own blood. My father was taken to the hospital and then placed in Psyc after he healed from injuries. After my dad was released he was still being self-destructive. My mother was trying everything she could to keep my father alive. My mother and father had talked about having a kid together before Mikes death. My Mothers 30th birthday was in July (3 months after Mikes death) and she knew this was her last chance having another child. She told my father this would be their last chance.  She hoped that I could give him a reason to live again.  I was conceived that night on her birthday. I was the last hope of keeping my father alive.

[beyondalicerp]

Congratulations, Mickey, You’ve been accepted for The Librarian! Please look over our Acceptance Guide and submit your character blog within the next 24 hours.

(Except not really because this is the sample application. We will not be posting the full applications for regular acceptances.) 

Trigger Warnings: Family Death, Anxiety.

OUT OF CHARACTER:

Name: Mickey Age: 20 Pronouns: She/Her Timezone: PST Additional Info: I’m currently in school full time Tuesdays through Saturdays and I work on Mondays but I can guarantee I’ll be on almost every night and all day most Sundays!

IN CHARACTER:

Desired Skeleton: The Librarian Full Name: Bluebelle Everett Age: 24 Date of Birth: October 2nd Gender: Cis Female Sexuality: Heterosexual Residence: Fairtown Occupation: Librarian Species: Auraus Affiliation: Crimson Faceclaim: Mila Kunis

Biography: 

The Everetts were always the perfect little family when Bluebelle was growing up. Being an only child, she was very close with both her parents, who loved her and cared for her in every way they could. In her earliest years, Belle recalls their family not having a lot of wealth. Her father worked as a blacksmith’s apprentice while her mother stayed home to care for her. After the Crimson King was crowned, Atticus Everett took a chance and became a Crimson knight, believing it would give him the opportunity to provide a better life for his family.

 Atticus served as knight, loyal to the Crimson King, for almost a decade. Bluebelle remembers the job keeping him away from home longer than she liked, but that just made her value the time she did spend with him even more. No matter how long or difficult his day had been, she always saw a smile on his face when she greeted him at the front door of their home, until one day Atticus never showed up. Bluebelle’s mother, Eden, told her not to worry; reassured her that some jobs that knights do require them to be gone all night, her father would return home in the morning. Eden wouldn’t let Bluebelle answer the door when they heard a knock the next morning.

Wonderland remembers day one of the biggest windstorm in history as it shook the land, but Bluebelle remembers that day for being the only time she’s seen her mother in hysterics. Thirteen-year-old Belle watched as her mother collapsed on the floor at the presence of two unfamiliar Crimson Knights at the door. The woman who was always so poised, so in control, now a disheveled mess on the floor, screaming and crying at the loss of her love. It took a few minutes for Bluebelle to begin crying, her shock overtaking her at first: shock at both the death of her father and the sight of her mother in a state she had never seen before. 

A few weeks after her father’s death, Bluebelle noticed a large group of Crimson Knights heading towards the direction of their home, a group large enough to accompany royalty, she assumed the king was stopping by to pay his respects. It wasn’t until a few days after his visit that Eden told her daughter the king tried to ask for her hand in marriage, to which she respectfully declined. Her mother explained to her that it was because she wanted to live a simpler life after the loss of her husband, and that they weren’t to ever speak on the subject again. 

After a few months of mourning, Eden was able to develop an income working as a seamstress out of their own home, having learned the skill from her parents. By the time Bluebelle was eighteen, her mother had her own shop at which she helped run. She loved working with her mother, but she dreamed of finding her own purpose, her own way of helping Wonderland be better. Right around that time a new public library was built not too far from their home, and Bluebelle, always a fan of books and reading, jumped at the chance to help run it. She worked closely with the palace librarian for about a year, learning how to keep the library running and how to help people find books they would enjoy, and soon after that the public library was hers. 

Bluebelle has loved running the library this whole time, and her mother loves that it has kept her daughter busy these past few years, as it’s bought her more time to keep her secret hidden. While it is a big secret that the king once proposed to Eden all those years ago, there’s an even bigger secret between the mother and daughter that Eden’s been able to keep for Belle’s whole life.

Unbeknownst to Belle, Eden has been hiding the fact that they are in fact Aurai, rare creatures most people in Wonderland believe to be extinct. As most Aurai were executed during the reign of Hearts, Eden believed it was safer for her daughter to not be aware of what she was, and has been feeding her a substance to suppress her abilities since shortly after she was born. She meant to tell her when she was older, but it never seemed like it would be the right time to have that kind of conversation. Now that Bluebelle is an adult, her abilities are most likely fully developed and she has no idea she even has them, let alone how to use them. When she first started suppressing her daughter’s abilities, it was because she feared the outside world would be a danger to her, but now she fears Bluebelle may end up being the danger.

Headcanons: 

Bluebelle only goes by her full name or Belle, never Blue. When she was a child her father called her his Little Blue and ever since he passed away, she’s reserved the nickname of Blue for him and only him. She doesn’t get upset when someone accidentally calls her Blue, but she always makes a point to correct them.

Belle is terrified of losing her mother. Losing her father when she was young was hard but with time and seeing her mother’s strength through it all, they were able to live with the grief. If she were to lose her mother, though, she wouldn’t know how to go on. She wouldn’t know where to turn to, who to look to. While she is an adult she does still rely on her mother for a lot of things, mostly for a sense of security, which is why she still lives with her, even though she’s well of age to live on her own.

Ever since she was a little girl, Bluebelle has had an inexplicable fear of tight spaces. She can’t recall a time she ever had a traumatic experience regarding small spaces, but every time she’s found herself in one she finds herself struggling to breathe. She tends to avoid small rooms, cramped spaces, and large crowds when she can because of this. She asked her mother about it once to try and figure out why she had this fear, her mother responded saying she had the same fear, so she must have gotten it from her.

After her father’s passing, Bluebelle developed what physicians in Alice’s world would diagnose as an anxiety disorder. She’s learned to keep it under control most of the time as an adult but through her teens she was met with several panic attacks and frequent restlessness. While her panic attacks are less frequent now, Belle is often still troubled by excessive worrying and racing thoughts whenever she feels uneasy.

Plots: 

The biggest one would definitely be Bluebelle discovering who- or what, really- she really is. She’s lived her entire life not knowing her full identity and I’d love to find some way to bring that out in the future. It’d definitely throw her personality and her sense of self for a spin for a little while. I’d also like to see how her relationships develop, whether they’re with the set connections already put in her bio (wink wink, nudge nudge), or new connections she makes through interactions on the dash.

Questions: Please pick at least two of the following questions to answer IN CHARACTER,  3rd person narrative. Minimum two sentences per question, please.

The Crimson King: fair and just ruler, or evil tyrant? What is your opinion of him, or even your opinion of the monarchy in general? She sat there thinking for a long moment, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she cautiously thought over her words, “I am... aware of the notoriety the Crimson King has developed throughout Wonderland. While I don’t always agree with the choices he makes as king, I can’t really see him as the monster other people seem to make him out as.” She spoke slowly and carefully. She was more than aware of the things he did that she didn’t exactly see as fair and just, but she felt evil tyrant wasn’t the right fit to describe him either. “I’ve had very few interactions with him myself, so I can’t say for certain what kind of person he is... but from my experience he’s been very kind and generous to my family and the ones I care about. I can’t just go off and label someone who’s been so good to my family as “evil”. There’s something more to him, I’m sure of it.”

What changes would you like to see happen to Wonderland within the next five years or so? A spark of excitement lit up the young woman’s face, “Oh so many things,” she began. “I’d love to see more development with some of the buildings and programs Wonderland has started these last few years. You know the library has been so wonderful to this community, I’ve really been trying to keep it quite busy as of late,” she rambled, she always loved talking about the library. “In fact, I believe it’s been generating enough business that it should be due for an expansion some time soon, but I’m trying to not get my hopes up.” She beamed with enthusiasm, before graciously adding, “Of course I’d also love to see developments within the Schoolhouse and the Orphanage too, as I believe they serve even more important purposes in our community.”

Extras: I made these the first time I played Belle but they’re still applicable.