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magnificentcenturyfics · 8 months

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Remembering Gülbahar, part 2/2 - Wooing

Description: Continuation of my version of Mahidevran's backstory. Now an oops all Mahidevran x Süleyman fic. TW: what might be implied SA?

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Around half a year after Süleyman’s arrival, he came to Istanbul once again, if only for a short visit – his younger sister Şahuban was to be marry Lütfi pasha. Of course, Ayşe Hafsa was to attended the wedding as well, and surprised Gülruh and Mahidevran were chosen as part of her entourage, which otherwise only included four slave girls, the other two being much older and more experienced. While at the time she was baffled by the great honor she’s been bestowed with, now Mahidevran suspected Ayşe Hafsa always had ulterior motives with Zahide hanim’s girls. Even back then, she might’ve figured it out sooner if such a thought wasn’t an act of immense hubris under the circumstances. As if Ayşe Hafsa would consider lowly Mahidevran hatun good enough for the possition of a concubine!

As it was, Mahidevran was filled with happiness as she marveled at the size and beauty of the then still in construction Topkapi palace, secure in her mistress‘ confidence in her as never before. This was especially important, because Ayşe Hafsa never sought to build a close relationship with her servants, aside from of Daye, and if she noticed them at all outside of giving them orders, she tended to treat them as a nuisance. Unlike Hürrem, who quite open and proud of the origin of her name, Mahidevran rarely talked about it, hoping people she met never heard of her as Gülbahar, because it was almost embarassing – Ayşe Hafsa often mixed up the names of her, Gülruh and Gülfem, to her own chagrin. In the end, she proclaimed that Gülruh was to be named Hüsnimelek and Gülbahar Mahidevran, and didn’t even bother to explain to anyone why did she chose those two names. Mahidevran, though humiliated by said careless name change, soon adjusted to it, simply because she did like her new name better, and it eventually helped her erase this period of her life from the memory of everyone else. Untill Gabriela’s audacious request, Mahidevran liked to pretend everything that came before that sunny, unusually dry autumn simply did not exist.

Mahidevran was at time so swept up in the pomp of the celebrations and beauty of the bright, rich colours autumn leaves gained in the persistent sunlight that she barely even noticed the wedding was actually a rather somber occasion. In fact, upon reflection, she certainly perceived the similarities between weddings of Şah sultan and Mihrimah sultan, even if the former wasn’t nearly as ostentatious as the latter. Şah’s unhappiness had rubbed on Süleyman, who expressed scepticism about the match quite often, much to his father’s irritation, but ultimately was powerless (and possibly unwilling) to stop the wedding. He tried his best to support his sister troughout this miserable ordeal, but ultimately, Süleyman seemed more bored and annoyed than anything. Despite their best efforts, the royal family gave off the impression that none of them wants to be there, and şehzade Süleyman was no exception. This must’ve strenghtened the resolve of Ayşe Hafsa to put in motion a plan she most likely had in mind for a while.

On the first morning of the seven-day celebrations, she sent all of them away besides Hüsnimelek and Mahidevran. This immediately made Mahidevran’s heart beat faster, as she wondered whether they earned some kind of punishment, reward, or perhaps an important task. It turned out that depending on one’s perspective, it might’ve been all three. „My son has been in a foul mood lately, and I wish to please him, but he isn’t very receptive towards the charms of harem girls these days. I haven’t been able to change his mind on this, but mayhaps such beguiling young creatures as you might. Thus, I wish to declare a contest between you two. Whichever one of you manages to obtain even the most miniscule expression of favor from our şehzade, even if it isn’t outright purple handkerchief, will earn a prize; and if by any chance you are called upon halvet, you shall be my most favoured of the concubines. If you do not succeed despite your best efforts, I won’t begrudge you, but should I notice you not trying at all, your disobedience shall not go unpunished. Understood?“ When they nodded their heads, trying desperately to hide their excitement, she moved her hand in a lazy gesture. „Off you go, then. And good luck!“

As soon as they left their mistress‘ apartments, Mahidevran collapsed to the floor, shaking and on the verge of crying. Frightened Hüsnimelek sat on her heels next to her. „Mahidevran?“

Mahidevran wiped away the wetness slowly clouding her gaze with her sleeve and managed to stop more of it from coming to the surface of her eyes. „Why must she torment us like this?! Does she not see...“ She didn’t even finish that silly thought. Of course she does not. What should Ayşe Hafsa, daughter of the Crimean khan and wife of the mighty sultan Selim, care for the banale friendships of slave girls?

„I don’t think it would help much even if she did. Now, get up, god forbid someone important sees you like this – sitting in the hallway crying...“ she said gently, extending a hand towards her.

Mahidevran hesitantly took it. „I am not crying.“ she proclaimed in a somewhat shaky voice, trying desperately to sound proud, even imperious. When she was finally standing on her own two feet, she looked into Hüsnimelek’s face and realized her friend isn’t calm, as she initially asumed, but tired and somewhat upset.

She awkwardly slipped around Hüsnimelek and resolved to leave her vicinity as quickly as possible, preferably for good, only for her friend to exclaim in an irritated tone. „Are we not going to talk about this?!“

„What is there to say?! Her Majesty wants us to not be friends, so what can we do?!“

„She didn’t say anything like that, Mahidevran.“

„But if we want to fulfill the task she has given us...“

Hüsnimelek stuck out her lip defiantly. „We’ll find a way around it, I am sure! If only we work together... Reach some sort of agreement...“

„What kind of agreement?! Her Majesty’s instructions were clear – we are supposed to be rivals in this contest...“

„A contest where there is nothing to lose.“ Hüsnimelek spat out contemptously. „So what if one of us becomes the prince’s favourite? The other one will still be in the service of Her Majesty, and either gets a good husband, or a the possition of a kalfa. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t be offended if you were blessed with the purple handkerchief – on the contrary, I would be happy for you! Wouldn’t you be happy for me too, Mahidevran?“

Mahidevran pursed her lips together, imagining the scenario. „I hope I would, because I already know I won’t win. How could he notice me over you, the most beautiful woman in this entire harem, who is also so clever and cheerful and lively...“

„Oh, that’s lovely. I am glad to hear that if you had to give away that godforsaken handkerchief, you would’ve chosen me.“ Hüsnimelek laughed. „But you don’t, şehzade does. And we can’t know which one of us he’d fancy if he noticed us, because he hasn’t yet.“

Mahidevran felt her mouth form into a small smile, and decided not to say anything. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became she cannot possibly compare to Hüsnimelek with her waist-lenght hair the colour of a fresh hazelnut shell, round face with full pink cheeks, soft features and big aquamarine eyes with long lashes. And while her body was mostly slim just like Mahidevran’s, it was also graceful and had at least some curves, whereas Mahidevran was just thin and flat. No, she should not stand in Hüsnimelek’s way now. If everything goes well, she will be the mother of şehzade’s next child; if not, well... When Süleyman rejects someone like Hüsnimelek, what are the odds of Mahidevran catching his eye?!

It didn’t help that Mahidevran wasn’t very inventive. While she took Ayşe Hafsa’s instructions seriously despite the seeming hopelessness of her mission, she racked her brain for several days trying to think of how to catch Süleyman’s eye. Meanwhile, Hüsnimelek attacked with full force of her finest weapons from the very first day. That night, celebrations in the harem provided them with a good opportunity for a first strike – and while Mahidevran simply put on her best dress, did her best with the limited supply of beauty products she owned (Gülşah helped her with this and was helped by Mahidevran in turn, as was the custom between lower-ranking girls) and tried to dance as gracefully and seductively as possible (with mixed results), Hüsnimelek’s plan was much more sophisticated. After dancing as close to Süleyman’s line of sight as possible (somewhat foolishly, since he barely glanced at the slave girls having fun in front of him), she turned towards Ayşe Hafsa and acted as if she was trying to return to her side. However, on the way there, she very obviously faked slipping on a carpet and falling right into Süleyman, her stunning figure on full display to him as he just barely caught her before she could crash into his face. She then stared at him a little too long before she backed away and turned her gaze down. But Hüsnimelek didn’t even manage to appologize before Süleyman started acting as if nothing happened, jovialy continuing a conversation with one of his aunts present at the festivities. As Hüsnimelek‘s appologies went ignored, Ayşe Hafsa told her to not waste her breath and leave the room, which she did on the verge of tears. However, when she saw worried Mahidevran follow her out of the room, she quickly adjusted herself and went to the common sleeping area poised and calm-looking.

While this first unsuccesful attempt left Hüsnimelek sad and disappointed for a night, the very next morning she was already plotting another one. This time, she wrote a love poem, which she then left in prince’s apartments, hoping he would inquire who wrote it. He likely didn’t, and Daye spoke to the entire harem that afternoon, scolding the poem’s anonymous author for bothering the prince. That was an even harsher blow towards Hüsnimelek’s pride than the previous night, no matter how fervently Mahidevran swore her poem was one of the best she’s ever read. She wasn’t even lying; of course, what Mahidevran didn’t tell her friend was the way she was dying of jealousy reading it, knowing that she herself would never be able to create anything so awe-inspiring. At the same time, she felt guilty for this jealousy and had her opinion of şehzade Süleyman sour somewhat. How can he not see the literary genius on display, how can he, who prided himself so on his culturedness, dismiss such a talent right in front of him?! Is it just because the poem’s author is likely a mere slave?

Nevertheless, after a day of sulking, Hüsnimelek managed to muster up courage for yet another attempt. Her voice, while by no means spectacullar, was pleasant enough, and she reasoned that if she chose a right song, she could make şehzade notice her by simply singing in his vicinity often enough. She tried enlisting Daye’s help in getting closer to him, even offering her a bribe, but no luck; the old woman knew about their mission, but was unwilling to help them, likely on Ayşe Hafsa’s instruction. At the same time, sultana kept Hüsnimelek busy the entire day, so she didn’t get the opportunity to execute her plan.

Mahidevran meanwhile made a half-hearted attempt to run into şehzade during her time off that afternoon, hoping he won’t take the collision too harshly – and that it will be witnessed by Ayşe Hafsa, then walking the gardens with him, so that her mistress cannot accuse Mahidevran of not doing what she was told. Indeed, she found şehzade Süleyman and his mother and managed to find a way to walk opposite them right as they turned the corner, so that it didn’t seem suspicious that she didn’t immediately stop and bow in their presence. Of course, she nonetheless bowed right after the collision, appologizing impassionately, which sultana and her son seemed to ignore at first (except for what Mahidevran would swear was a single angry stare from Ayşe Hafsa). However, as they walked past Mahidevran, she heard Süleyman casually ask his mother. „Isn’t that the girl who ran after that annoying one?“

„Yes, that is her. Why?“

„Do they know each other?“

„How should I know?! Do you think I keep an eye on which slaves are friends? Bah! Don’t be...“

„Well, they are your personal servants, aren’t they?“

„Still.“

„Oh, she’s still here!“

„Bismillah, she is listening in on us! I am going to...!“

„Please, calm down, mother. Hey, you!“

Mahidevran turned towards them, her hands shaking. She bowed deeply, eyes firmly pinned to the ground. „My prince?“

„Do you know that girl who fell on me a few days ago, during those celebrations?“

„Yes, sir. She is in fact a friend of mine.“

„Tell her, then, that her talents are wasted on vain attempts to gain my attention. Her poetry is magnificent, but I can already tell she could be quite persistent if she puts her mind to it, and I do not wish to be bothered by her my entire stay in Istanbul. I do not desire her, and she should get the thought of convincing me otherwise out of her head.“

What happened next could be chalked up entirely to Mahidevran’s tendency to act before she thinks, especially prominent in her youth. Against all rules, she lifted her gaze and let out a surprised. „Why?“

Süleyman raised his eyebrows. „Why what?“

Ayşe Hafsa seemed outraged. „How dare you question our şehzade?! Get out of my sight, you insolent...“

„Not before she answers my question, mother.“ said Süleyman coldly.

Mahidevran dropped her gaze to the ground once again. „I meant... Şehzade forgive me, I didn’t...“

„What did you mean by „why“, hatun?“ he asked impatiently.

Mahidevran thought she could die of shame. „I just... I... If you liked Hüsnimelek’s poetry so much... And since she’s also one of the most beautiful women there... Why are you so disinterested in her?“ She then added, hoping to lessen the blow. „I wondered. I shouldn’t have done so. Please, forgive me my insolence...“

Süleyman’s voice was half-annoyed, half-amused. „Stop appologizing. I wasn’t angry at your impulsive question, but if you keep appologizing for it, I might get angry yet.“

Mahidevran lifted her gaze in surprised, but then remembered herself and looked down again.

She bowed once more and was ready to leave, when Süleyman spoke once again. „I did not give you a leave, Mahidevran.“

Süleyman’s voice was deep and soft and to hear her own name from his lips felt like a caress. At that moment, Mahidevran felt a light shiver all over her body. She was affraid to do or say anything out of fear of yet another scolding, but at the same time even this kind of miniscule, somewhat indifferent interest in her from him felt like the highest honor Mahidevran has been given in her entire life.

„Will you relate my message to her, then, in those exact words?“

„Yes, my prince.“

„Alright, then. Lift your head up, I want to see your face when I’m talking to you.“

But he didn’t actually talk to her. When their eyes met, he didn’t say anything, instead looking at her intently for a while before nodding her head. „You may go.“ he said quietly, turning away as Mahidevran gave him her final bow. She didn’t leave, instead trying to listen in on them, but she only heard Ayşe Hafsa’s annoyed questioning of her son and Süleyman’s only response – laughter.

When Mahidevran returned inside, she felt a strange clenching in her stomach and her heart still beating faster than normal. While she managed to collect herself in time to return to her duties, she was somewhat absent-minded the entire rest of the day, at all times either remembering Süleyman’s words and thinking how best to relay them to Hüsnimelek, or daydreaming about his beautiful eyes and voice. She was sane enough to realize how silly it is, to think Süleyman would remember her as anything other than a servant he gave an order to, but a part of her could not possibly give up hope, especially since Hüsnimelek had already lost their little competition. Or such was one interpretation of what happened – really, when it came to Süleyman, was being thought of somewhat badly worse than not being thought of at all? Then again, Hüsnimelek’s loss could’ve been a catastrophe to Mahidevran, who in her own eyes simply could not compare to her rival. If she had no chance, Mahidevran had twice as little.

She talked to Hüsnimelek as they went to sleep in the common area. „I met şehzade in the gardens. The good news is, he read your poem and liked it. But... He is still asking you to stop pursuing him.“

Hüsnimelek’s expression was a mix of befuddlement and profound dissapointment such as Mahidevran had never seen before. „Allah, I knew it. I was too conspicuous, wasn’t I?“

„I suppose?“

„That’s what I get for desiring sultana’s attention more than şehzade’s. I wanted her to see that I am doing something so badly that I forgot what my mission was in the first place.“ After a little silence, she lifted her blanket to climb under it, but then stopped to talk to Mahidevran. „Was he angry at me? Do you think it’s completely hopeless?“

„I don’t think he was angry, but he definitely meant „stop trying to gain my attention“ as an order.“ When she saw her friend’s defeated face, she quickly added. „But I don’t think our mistress would want you to give up. At any rate, we should at least ask her...“

„I would rather not.“ Hüsnimelek sighed. „She saw that I’ve done everything in my power, and should understand that it wasn’t enough. Shouldn’t she?“

Mahidevran didn’t answer. She wasn’t in a mood to argue, and knew her friend felt the same, even if they both knew Ayşe Hafsa enough to doubt Hüsnimelek’s hopefulness.

Next morning, Hüsnimelek confessed to Mahidevran that she was giving up her pursuit of şehzade Süleyman for good. Mahidevran herself considered doing the same, although she didn’t voice it in front of her friend. Then again, perhaps she should show at least some token effort, to assuade the wrath of their mistress. She gained the golden opportunity to do so when Ayşe Hafsa sent her to bring şehzade snacks – that afternoon, one of his former tutors taught him matrak, and Süleyman allegedly only ate a small amount from his lunch, surely he’ll be exhausted if he engages in such a heavy excercise on an empty stomach...? Mahidevran thought that sultana must’ve been at least partly sincere (mothers are the same everywhere – she herself worried about Mustafa’s diet and other minor inconveniences that might befall him quite often), but at the same time, surely Ayşe Hafsa expected more of her than that...

Upon seeing Süleyman, what she was struck by first was the redness of his cheeks, heavy breathing and sweat glistening all over his face. He looked more alive than ever before, and the raw beauty of his visage made Mahidevran herself blush. When he walked up towards her, she bowed as deep and kept her eyes on the grass below as intently as never before.

„You’re Mahidevran, aren’t you? The friend of that clumsy girl who writes poems?“

„Yes, sir.“

He suddenly grabbed her chin and lifted her face to look into his, frankly, quite annoyed expression. Still, that touch made her shiver. „Am I truly so hideous that you’d rather stare at the ground when you’re talking to me?“

„Forgive me, şehzade!“ Mahidevran said in a somewhat higher and more nervous voice than usual.

„Have you told her what I ordered you to say?“

„Yes, sire.“

„And what did she say to that?“

„She will obey your command, my prince.“

Süleyman smirked. „We’ll see.“

He then turned away, arousing panic in Mahidevran; she knew she must do something, anything to gain just a little bit of attention, for her own sake and Hüsnimelek’s. In that moment, her tendency to not think before she says or does something struck again. „She told me to say goodbye to you, for now she shall perish of shame and broken heart.“

Süleyman turned back towards her, his eyebrows raised quizically. „Did she? What, is she ill? Or does she by any chance have a penchant for exagarating things?“

„No, my prince, she was completely honest! You see, she is not ill at present, but her constitution is fragile and the next few days, mayhaps even weeks will be very hard for her, even if she manages to survive them.“

Süleyman’s eyes twinkled with mischief. „Keep me informed about her health, then. I would loathe to cause the death of such a lovely girl.“

At that moment, Mahidevran found herself a go-between to the potential romance of Süleyman and Hüsnimelek – and she realized she didn’t like the thought one bit. Already she was infatuated with Süleyman’s beauty and spirited nature, and the touch of his hand turned her feelings from idle dreaming into darker, more possesive territory. She still wasn’t too optimistic about the possibility of experiencing his touch again, but heavens, she desired it more than anything else and the thought of her own best friend getting to feel much more than a single finger on her face filled Mahidevran with distaste unbecoming of a friend of hers. She thus didn’t inform Hüsnimelek about her encounter with Süleyman, instead lying that he barely noticed her – and surely enough, the next few days her friend held true to her proclamation of defeat, acting in a reserved and overly servile manner around şehzade. Unfortunately, Süleyman himself misunderstood it, as he revealed to her when he once walked out of his mother’s chambers and pulled Mahidevran aside. „She indeed looks quite melancholic. How is she doing? Is she healthy?“

„In perfect health, my prince, just a bit disappointed.“ said Mahidevran quickly.

„A bit?“

„Well, she is not one to speak much, you know? I cannot at present tell exactly...“

But her voice was somewhat shaking, and Süleyman noticed. „Are you lying to me, Mahidevran?“

His question threw Mahidevran out of the loop. „No! Majesty, what do you mean...?“

„You’re contradicting yourself, and even the tone of your voice is... Off. What does Hüsnimelek truly feel, can you tell me?“

Mahidevran blinked fast, startled by his accusations. „My şehzade, I swear, I am not...“

Süleyman looked displeased, making Mahidevran’s heart sink with despair. „Of course you can’t. I must therefore ask her.“

He tried to walk past her, but panicked Mahidevran stopped him. „Majesty, I lied the first time! She holds no strong feelings for you, and only aims to gain your attention because your valide ordered her. The poem wasn’t sincere...“

Süleyman smiled – a mischievious smile, young and heartbreakingly beautiful. „But it was truly moving, wasn’t it?“

He was close, so close, to Mahidevran, and yet also to her losing him forever. She couldn’t help herself. „It is not fair, it truly isn’t! Were I as good in poetry as her, I would’ve written you words a thousand times as moving, for I desire you so much more strongly, but I can’t, so you’ll never know...“

Süleyman let out a surprised laughter. „I certainly do now.“ His expression then changed into a more serious one, as he wondered out loud. „Mayhaps valide did send me the wrong servant of hers.“

Mahidevran felt an overwhelming desire to touch him, or heaven forbid even kiss him, but he only turned away, once again wearing his mischievious smile, and left Mahidevran’s proximity. In desperation, she touched her own lips, and upon imagining his fingers in place of hers, she let out a small sob. She felt like the biggest fool on the face of the Earth, and yet at the same time his comments filled her with more hope than she ever felt before. And the thought of possibly getting to know şehzade Süleyman biblically completely blinded her to everything else.

But the next few days came and went without anything significant happening on that front. Hüsnimelek continued her attempts to make Süleyman notice her as little as possible, while he didn’t seem to think much of either of them. And so, as the wedding festivities of Şah sultan and Lütfi pasha came to a close and şehzade was getting ready to go home, Mahidevran had grown desperate to arouse şehzade’s interest once again, and after wracking her brain with what she knew about şehzade, she finally arrived at a quite radical solution.

She got the opportunity to talk to Ibrahim on the last day of their stay at Istanbul. As luck would have it, Ayşe Hafsa sent her to retrieve from him an expensive turban pin Süleyman borrowed him for the festivities, which seemed to enrage her quite a bit. After Ibrahim refused to do so, confident in his assessment that şehzade wouldn’t want him to, Mahidevran decided not to press matter further, since it made her quite uncomfortable anyway. Instead, she bit her lip and quietly said. „I came here for our sultana, but I also need to talk to you.“

Ibrahim raised his eyebrows. „How come?“

„I know I cannot expect you to care for matters of the harem, and that it is not your place...“

Ibrahim smirked. „That is absolutely true... What is your name, anyway?“

„Mahidevran.“

„So, Mahidevran, if you already know all of that, what are you even doing here speaking to me?!“

„Because His Majesty trusts you like noone else, and if you took him to the gardens the morning after we return to Manisa, I would be extremely grateful. While I have little possesions, I would give all of that...“

Ibrahim’s response was sharp. „Do you have me for a common eunuch, girl?! I am not in the business of giving out favours to uppity little slave girls for pennies!“

„Ibrahim agha, you don’t understand! I was sent by Ayşe Hafse herself to persuade şehzade into, uh... More frequent fulfillment of his duties, I mean when it comes to siring an heir... If you helped me with that, you would most certainly earn her gratitude, and she’d forget the whole nonsense with the turban pin.“

„She’d forget that regardless. Knowing her, she soon forgets I exist too. I don’t matter to her any more than you do to me.“

„That’s not at all... Ibrahim agha, she is well aware of your exceptionally close relationship with şehzade Süleyman...“

Ibrahim’s voice suddenly took on a threatening tone. „Are you insinuating something by „close relationship“?“

Mahidevran gasped; she genuinely didn’t realize the possible implications of her words. „Allah, no! I meant... She thinks you are taking his attention away from women, but not in that way. That you are making him dream of anything but romantic avatures, not that you are yourself...“

„I see.“ Ibrahim said with fake thougtfulness. „And that is what our sultana genuinely thinks, not what you yourself assume, or have heard spoken about her alleged opinions from other slave girls, correct?“

„Ibrahim agha, I rarely leave her side, I’ve heard her say something along those those lines with my own two ears, multiple times!“

„But if I understand it correctly, you are revealing it to me out of your own volition, without your mistress knowing this, yes?“

Mahidevran was starting to get tangled in her own lies. „Well, I don’t suppose she would mind...“

Ibrahim raised his voice. „Oh, so you suppose?“ He leaned towards her. „If you truly need help with attracting Süleyman, all I can give you is a piece of advice. I did not strike a friendship with our şehzade by supposing or presuming what he thinks. I suggest you adopt the same attitude.“

It was then that a not-at-all discreet cough interrupted them. To her horror, Mahidevran saw Süleyman behind her back (the whole time, she was standing in front of Ibrahim’s doorstep). „Mahidevran, what are you doing here?“

While startled Mahidevran was collecting her thoughts, Ibrahim spoke up instead. „She came here to ask me for that godforsaken turban pin on your mother’s behalf, and somehow the conversation turned towards sultana’s opinions of me.“

Süleyman furrowed his brow. „Tell mother it is my wish for Ibrahim to keep the damn thing. If she wants to dispute my decision, she should do so to my face.“

„But, şehzade!“ Ibrahim gasped with a significant undertone of mockery. „This cannot do! Ayşe Hafsa already thinks you favor me too much and that this causes you to completely forget the issue of utmost importance – harem women.“

Süleyman’s mouth opened a bit in shock. „She thinks what now?!“

Mahidevran bowed as low as she could. „Şehzade, Ibrahim is insinuating something that is not true and that I myself told him not to misunderstand sultana’s words as...“

„What did you tell him, then?!“

„Well, Ayşe Hafsa obviously does not believe you and Ibrahim... You know she would not let such a horrible thing stand... But lately you don’t seem to have much interest in women and, perhaps, this might be caused by you seeking out other sources of entertainment... Goodness, not that kind of entertainment...“

Süleyman blinked fast in annoyance. „Mahidevran, what are you talking about?! Are you lying about what other people say or think again?!“

„I don’t believe so.“ said Ibrahim, grinning mischieviously. „She does not lie, merely assume.“

Mahidevran’s eyes filled with tears. „Forgive me, şehzade! It is true that our sultana is concerned about your lack of... Apetites. But she does not think Ibrahim is at fault in any way, at least to my knowledge. I simply wanted to get him on my side by trickery, and only made a fool of myself.“

„Your side? You’d defy your sultana so, Mahidevran? You yourself said she wished for Hüsnimelek to become my concubine.“

„Perhaps I misunderstood your words, then.“

„What words?“

„You... You yourself said... I know it was merely an offhanded comment, but... You said something about a wrong concubine...“

Süleyman laughed out loud in surprise. „Goodness, you’re bad at this.“

Mahidevran started sobbing. „Indeed I am.“

Süleyman’s features softened. „Now, there’s no need to be sad. Or cause ruckus, for that matter. You’re hardly the only slave girl here full of misplaced ambition...“

Words left Mahidevran’s mouth before she could stop them. „That’s not ambition!“

„What?“ said Süleyman flatly.

„I’ve told you. I do not this because I wish to come close to the glory of your blessed mother, or because I would dream about holding a prince in my arms, or even to have an ear of the greatest ruler this empire has ever seen...“

Süleyman smiled in soft mockery of her words. „You think that is what I’ll be, Mahidevran? How do you know? You speak it with such certainty, as if you were the Cumean Sybil herself, when noone but Allah above knows what the future holds. Just you wait, I’ll end up defeated in a battle with some vicious barbarian warlord and locked in a cage like Bayezit Yildirim, and what will you say then?“

Mahidevran realized that what she needs to tell him now is simply the truth. „That cannot happen. I know this, because I know you. I may be a mere slave, but I have eyes and ears, and I saw you every day strive for greatness and show the wisdom and fortitude to achieve it... I know your drive, ambition and fire, and I would follow it even to that cage or whatever, because I adore it, not any advantages they might bring me and you.“

Süleyman looked surprised by her words. „Girl, are sure you wouldn’t be a good poet?“

Mahidevran bowed her head. „I’ve tried to put into a concise poem, my lord, but the result wasn’t worth much.“

He then turned towards Ibrahim with a look of amusement. „Well, then. That’s a lot of words you just said; I’ll need a while to think about all of them. At any rate, you should go back to your mistress. We are leaving very soon.“

His words filled Mahidevran with anxiety. He was clearly trying to be mysterious, which could point to a wish for further relations. On the other hand, he could’ve just been having fun at the expense of a silly slave girl who thought he’d care about what she thinks of him. She sincerely wished she could discuss any of this with Hüsnimelek, but how would she even begin to explain the web of lies she tried and failed to set up, including at her friend’s expense?! However, Hüsnimelek couldn’t help but notice Mahidevran’s obvious distress, and her refusal to say anything only filled her with more concern. This in turn made Mahidevran prickly and throughout an almost two day journey a clear rift appeared between them. They didn’t have much time to think about it – on the road and just after arrival in Manisa, their duties kept them busy, and as soon as they were ready to settle into their old routines, things irrevocably changed.

She learned only later that Süleyman discussed their encounter with Ibrahim on the way to Manisa. Süleyman confessed to her (while caressing her pregnant belly) that he had conflicted feelings about his low apetites in amorous matters previously; after all, while noone (at least if their intentions were any good) wanted him to spend all of his free time in harem, he nonetheless needed more than one heir – besides it was somewhat healthy and expected for a man of his age and vitality to parttake in this kind of thing more often and with greater enthusiasm. Otherwise one might suspect that there is something wrong with him, either a hiden illness of the body or corruption of the soul. Mahidevran herself later encountered similar problem with Mustafa, but her son lacked the self-awareness of his father and seemed satisfied with his life of sexual moderation, bordering on deprivation. While Süleyman wasn’t yet ready to share such intimate concerns with Ibrahim (who to his knowledge had no sexual experience at this point anyway), he did confess that he found most encounters with concubines rather dull and technical matters, and that his meeting with Mahidevran filled him with hope that it might be different with her. At the very least, Süleyman took of a liking to her somewhat, which is more than he could say about all of the obedient, duty-bound ladies sent into his bed by Ayşe Hafsa before Mahidevran. To Mahidevran’s surprise, Ibrahim not only supported Süleyman’s decision, but went a step further and aroused romantic fantasies in his master by expressing hope that this new girl might in time become dear enough to him to make her way to his poems. He himself allegedly used to have a few semi-romantic encouters with a lady far above his station, but that relationship had come to naught as she was married to another man and shortly before her wedding, he and said lady had a quarrel anyway. Mahidevran wondered whether Ibrahim’s feelings towards this lady might’ve influenced his advice to Süleyman in some way, but she never learned more than what Süleyman told her then – besides vague rumors surfacing years later that the aforementioned lady was in fact Şah sultan (who furiously denied it).

At any rate, shortly after their arrival, Mahidevran was given the task of serving Süleyman and Ayşe Hafsa breakfast. The whole time, he was stealing glances at Mahidevran, untill he finally asked his mother if she considers any of her servants indespensible. Sultana cheerfully replied that none besides Daye, and was overcomed with joy when her son asked whether that includes Mahidevran. This made Mahidevran drop glass of water she was putting on a plate, earning a harsh scolding from Ayşe Hafsa – but Süleyman just laughed and requested his mother have her prepared that very night.

And that was all it took. But as fortunate as Mahidevran knew she was, the suddenness of her luck soon overwhelmed her. Lacking any preparation for the night awaiting her and still thoroughly convinced of her own mediocrity, Mahidevran spent the entire day barely holding it together. Surely, her first halvet cannot but go poorly, and then what? At best, şehzade will never even look at her again – but there’s also the possibility of her doing something so embarassing she will be banished or punished in some other way. In her worst moments, Mahidevran even thought she might displease şehzade so much he’d order her execution; a silly thought, but spoke to her own docility, anxieties and the general disposition of all servant women. Had she let her fear go unchecked then, it would’ve become a self-fulfilling prophecy, but she managed to avert her own doom by speaking with Gülşah (of all people!). While the woman was never known for her intelligence and clarity of judgement, her point of view in this case proved to be remarkably sober. She reminded Mahidevran that she has nothing to fear but fear itself and that if she displeases şehzade, she could at least find companionship in several women from the Manisa harem who seemed to have done the same, most of them trough no fault of their own. Gülşah’s deep disinterest in the matters of the royal chamber was refreshing after a day of stewing in her own anxiety, and eased Mahidevran just enough for her to realize that everything will most certainly go more smoothly if she starts looking forward to the night instead. Surely, in a few hours, she will be kissed. She will be held. She will get an opportunity to look and touch Süleyman, as much as she wants to, the more the better. Or at least that’s how she assumed these matters work, for some reason.

That evening, they dressed her in all white, in a rather common-looking (if certainly nice) dress, that she nonetheless chose to see as special; that silly thought helped her with anxiety too, since how could her life not change when she’s dressed in such splendor? Daye herself visited her before sending her off to Süleyman’s chambers, but she wasn’t very encouraging, just coldly instructing her on the relevant parts of the etiquette and making sure she knows about the basics of carnal matters. Mahidevran chose to not be bothered by her anyhow, focusing all of her attentions on Süleyman and the joy she’ll surely feel in his presence. Her doubts weren’t completely silenced, but their dillution sufficed to avert disaster.

After a formal welcome, Süleyman led her to the bed. As they sat, looking into each other’s eyes in silence, Mahidevran was convinced she is going to explode if she won’t relieve at least a bit of the pressure inside of her, and so she let out a loud, nervous giggle – but then almost folded under Süleyman’s quizzical look. Luckily, he then spoke out, saving her from further embarassment. „I see your hands are shaking. Is it out of fear or joy?“

Mahidevran gave him a small smile. „What should I fear when your majesty is with me?“

Süleyman absentminded took a strand of her hair and started winding it up on one of his fingers, slowly tugging on it just enough for her to feel it, but not to the point of pain; a threatening gesture? „Said Majesty, perhaps?“

Mahidevran winced. „Have I displeased you, my şehzade?“

Süleyman smirked. „How could you? You haven’t done anything.“

„And should I?“

Süleyman gave her a somewhat bored look. „I don’t know. Say something clever.“

„Well, then all is truly lost, because I am not terribly clever.“

„I suppose that’s not completely out of the question. If I am not mistaken, you did not even know who Bayezit Yildirim was.“

Mahidevran hanged her head in shame. „No, I did not. But I asked other girls, who payed more attention at the history lessons, about him.“

„And? What did they tell you?“

„That he used to be the ruler of this grand empire when it wasn’t quite so great yet. Before even Constantinople belonged to us. They say he was a man of such immense ambition and hubris that he faced Timur the Lame, the bloodthirty ruler of Samarkand. But pride comes before the fall, and so Timur defeated him in battle, captured him and inflicted all manners of terrible humiliations on him. I don’t even know if it’s all true; to hear them tell it, it sounds more like a legend than anything.“

„Bayezit Yildirim did exist, and was indeed defeated by the terrible Timur. Whether he truly made Bayezit’s wife serve him at the table naked, whether he put Bayezit into a golden cage fashioned into a carriage and led him trough the city streets like a Roman general on a triumph, whether he used the unfortunate sultan as a footstool... That I do not know. What I do know is that us Turks need some good historian, for a civilized nation like ours cannot live off of legends.“

„Well, I suppose that’s one more thing that when sultan Selim...“ Tension, slowly leaving her beforehand, came rushing back as she realized the dangerous territory she was moving on. „Not that I’d wish for such a thing, heavens no, but death comes for us all and hopefully you will be there to take the throne after him. And when that time...“

Süleyman gave her a tired smile. „You don’t even know how often I told myself that, but alas, my father is still alive and the longer he lives, the more things I leave for the time of my ascencion. As it stands, by the time he truly leaves this Earth, it may well be I won’t have enough time myself to do everything I wish I could do.“

Mahidevran gave him a warm smile and took his hand. „That would surely be the most unfortunate not only for you, but for all of the future generations as well.“

Süleyman tugged at her hand and brought it to his lips. „Or, maybe, it would be the opposite, should my ideas turn out to be terrible.“ he said with a devilish smile before kissing her hand.

Mahidevran blushed. „I wish I could help you tell whether that is the case. Alas, I lack the expertise... Whose judgement do you trust so? Your mother‘s? That of you teachers? Or perhaps Ibrahim agha?“

Süleyman snickered. „Mine most of all.“ And planted a deep, passionate, endlessly confident kiss on Mahidevran’s lips.

She thought the sheer bliss might kill her, or at the very least send her into a fainting spell. She thus grabbed his broad shoulders and squeezed them when he moved on from the lips to her neck. As a response to the squeezing, he wound his arms around her waist and caressed her back, slowly and gently. However, soon they moved forward, on her sides, and from them up, untill his thumbs idly caressed her small breasts. Only then did she realized the gravity of what was about to be done to her, and grew apprehensive. She was affraid that he wouldn’t allow her to pull back, but for once he did, leaving her blushing and appologetic. And so, she moved onto the bed and lied there, hoping it’ll let him do whatever he must – which turned out to be lying on top of her, unbuttoning her kaftan and more kissing, on the mouth, neck, the naked skin in the middle of her breasts, accessible trough a round hole in her dress between her clavicles and sternum. Soon, her impatiently unbuttoned her dress as well, which she then took off herself, along with the shift she wore under them. As she lied under him, blushing profusely, she decided to overcome her shame by helping him undress and touching him just like he did to her. After she took off his shirt, she reveled in the sights opened to her – kissing his broad, hairy chest and strong arms, her shyness slowly discipating as it was replaced by what she would now identify as arousal, but then was just a new, pleasant sensation coarsing trough her lower body. Still, it was quite a shock when he took off his trousers, spread her legs with one swift motion and just as uncompromisingly pushed herself inside her.

Mahidevran didn’t remember whether she reached the climax. She remembered liking the experience overall, but perhaps she had just forgotten any unpleasantness of that night; at any rate, she certainly cherished the other two times it happened that night more, mostly because she was much more confident and relaxed during. Their subsequent encounters lit such a fire within her young body that eventually, she was becoming too much even for Süleyman, which he seemed to take in stride – better to have a woman that is overeager than overly cold, he said, because a woman’s nature is better suited to deal with overabundance of lust than with its lack. Indeed, quite a lot of women he encountered seemed to suffer with some illness, that denied them natural impulses of this kind, he said. As she grew older and more knowledgeable, Mahidevran realized that his somewhat callous approach to concubines might’ve been to blame; Mahidevran herself could do with little prompting or stimulation, since she was completely smitten with him, but other women might not. (She tried to talk about these matters with Mustafa, but whether he took her advice to heart she did not know.) Either way, Süleyman at least didn’t begrudge his lovers this supposed affliction, mostly because he himself seemed to suffer from it, though meeting Mahidevran helped him greatly.

Still, while he enjoyed her company, he didn’t seem that attached to her and often sought out other women (which bothered her, but she could do nothing but cry to Gülşah about it), untill a smallpox epidemic hit around a year after he came to Manisa. It took little Murat and several slave girls, including Hüsnimelek, whose illness progressed so quickly Mahidevran didn’t even manage to patch up their friendship and say her final goodbyes. Süleyman thus found in her the ideal person to share his grief with; obviously, her losing a friend could not compare to the death of one’s own child, but she realized it and extended much more sympathy towards him than he did to her. And to his credit, he showed her care and understanding as well, something she’d never expect from a prince. It was only then that she gave her entire heart and soul away to him, and she didn’t manage to get it back for almost two decades.

Mahidevran wasn’t in a mood to reminescence about those happy couple of years that followed. She recalled them often, to the point that they now seemed like a book she read a few too many times. But this much needs to be said – he loved her, for a brief period, but he nonetheless loved her. He used to write her poems, shower her with gifts and compliments, and even let her bother him with her petty complaints, sometimes, when he was in a mood. For a time, he even eshewed other concubines, though that didn’t last, even before Hürrem came to his life. Perhaps she was foolish to think that this bliss would last forever, but how could she not when even the night before his departure he looked into her eyes with such love she would, at least for a moment, almost believe herself his equal? And for that matter, how was she to know she’d be replaced so suddenly and thoroughly?

It wasn’t of much importance in the present, anyhow. Mahidevran might have regrets about those days, but there was no denying they charted the course of her future forever, and brought her the arguably best thing in her life – Mustafa. For all of their little quarrels and cold shoulders he gave her sometimes, he truly was the love of her life (in some senses of the word), the one for whom she truly lived and should’ve done so all this time, just like Ayşe Hafsa tried to advise her all those years (though admittedly that was just what she meant, it came out sounding quite different, which is why Mahidevran never managed to listen to her). But such is life. Her old friend Ümmülgülsüm once said that in her country, they have a saying: „Everyone is a general after the battle.“ At least she knows what’s important now.

The morning after, during breakfast, she turned towards Mustafa with a smile. „It’s such a lovely day. Do you have much work now, my lion? I thought we might go for a walk in the gardens. I want to tell you a story.“

#magnificent century #mahidevran sultan

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reconstructwriter · 7 months

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Had Another Breakdown and Watched Attack of the Clones

And wow, what a B-Movie title but I’m already committed to this terrible life decision so I might as well continue. Got through the Phantom Menace so how much worse can this be?

Warning! Another long post! Also tw for Attack of the Clones shit including genocide and slavery.

The Watto scene: Not only does it double down on Watto as a Jewish stereotype – seriously, WHY?!? – but a scene where a former slave meets their enslaver after ten years of growing up and mystic training with a laser sword? I expected a lot more. Watto should’ve voided his bowels because this has to be Worst Case Scenario for a slaver! At best he was a little ‘nervous friendly’. And Anakin is already well-established as ‘man-child who Loses His Shit at the drop of a hat’. Like dude, where’s your angst and teenage fits now cause boy does this situation fit the bill! But nope, NPC fulfills their NPC duty and off they go.

Fanon Anakin vs Canon Anakin: I was introduced to the former and slowly learned what he’s really like and oh wow is he such a terrible mess of a human being no wonder Mace Windu noped his training. His Fascist statement is extra YIKES for Padme since she’s one of those Senators who’d be forced to agree. The first temper tantrum alone sounded way out of line given the relatively professional setting, let alone the creepy boundary-breaking stare. The ‘I’ve been dreaming about you for ten years’, the ‘my feelings are suffering’ speech – also taking place with him in shadow for extra broody effect. And his first genocide (I can’t believe we’re already keeping track here!) And he KNOWS BETTER is the worst thing. He admits, out loud, that he knows better and still does the thing Padme why did you say yes to this mess?

Padme being mind controlled: a fairly common fan theory to answer the above question, but in-movie Padme straight up asks Anakin if he will use a mind-trick on her (in the context of a 20 questions game so not serious). Anakin’s response is ‘mind tricks only work on the weak minded’. On the one hand, implies Padme is too strong-willed for Anakin to influence through the Force – but on the other hand this also suggests to me that he would if he could!?!?

Though Anakin was the one to suggest keeping the relationship a secret, which did surprise me so no guilting Padme about ‘wanting a marriage like a free man’ like I thought. Padme is the one who says she won’t live a lie. Good to know for future reference.

Are droids sentient or not? Dex outright says droids can’t think but I honestly don’t know if this is in-universe how droids work or if Dex is having a Cleigg-on-Tusken-People moment.

Jedi are Arrogant? Lots of people have cited Madame Nu’s confidence in her archive’s integrity as evidence the Jedi are arrogant and horrible justification of Sith crimes follows. But Obi Wan thinks there’s something more going on and Yoda encourages everyone to help find his lost planet in one of the only nods to ‘funny trickster teacher Yoda’ we get in the movie. To me this seems a hint that the Jedi are unprepared for betrayal from within. Which Dooku’s, Anakin’s and the Clones’ mind-controlled betrayals all blindside the Jedi Order.

Jango: I’ve been torn about him since I learned about him. On the one hand, understandable vengeance motive (per legends anyway), on the other hand selling his own kids into slavery and probably knowing something about the chips and genocide order because I can’t otherwise imagine the legends version assisting the Jedi.

Jango does state in-movie ‘they’ll do their job well’ in a way that sounds just a bit ominous but I don’t know if he’s being accidentally vague or deliberately giving a subtle hint he knows about the Jedi betrayal plan. If this version is just in it for Boba and the money and doesn’t have the motive of his Legends counterpart, why would the Sith ever need to tell him? Dunno, but I was surprised to not hear him say anything derogatory about his clones. I mean he’s still selling his children into slavery in a way George Lucas doesn’t grok but he doesn’t actively deride them like I’ve read in fanfic. It’s a low bar but not as low as Anakin’s.

Made for the Jedi? So the Kaminoians confirm the clone army is specifically made for the Republic but commissioned by Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas. Glad the movies cleared that up.

Scene Contrast: Kamino is Dark and Stormy with creepy sterile whiteness everywhere in complete contrast to Naboo’s sunny and lush green paradise. The clone army is grown and trained in creepy white lab while the robotic army built in a dark but organic underground hive. Obi Wan sneaks onto Geonosis through the light of day to investigate galactic concerns. Anakin on Tattooine stalks the Tusken people in the dark of night for personal stakes.

The (Other) Horribly Racist Cliché: Speaking of which, I get we’re supposed to assume Shmi was abducted but, um, Cleigg isn’t even a witness – like I initially thought – but is guessing abduction based on tracks in the desert sand and his incredibly racist bias. Are we supposed to doubt every word out of his mouth? If Shmi had been in a bed (even tied) I’d have assumed patient before prisoner.

Anakin’s Genocide: He goes off to save Shmi as ominous music plays and the suns go down, at which point he doesn’t just walk the fascist talk and do baby-Vader’s first genocide but also foreshadows his betrayal and genocide of the Jedi! Which really reinforces the Sith/Nazi and Jedi/Jewish parallel here – Hitler and the Nazis got their Holocaust ideas from White America’s treatment of our native and PoC counterparts. So too does Anakin the future Sith start his genocidal tendencies with the Native people of Tattooine.

But nobody in-universe seems to get that?!? Blorbo!Anakin authors recognize that thar was some FUCKED UP SHIT!!! (Usually by pretending it didn’t happen or re-writing the scene into something less Moral Event Horizon.) Padme’s response would fit better Anakin murdering the literally disarmed Dooku – morally wrong, against the Jedi Code but somewhat understandable but genocide? Cleigg is narratively supposed to be kind and sympathetic but he practically sent a demon after people who’s land and water he’s stealing! The person acting most realistically is the perpetrator and all Anakin admits (again) is he’s a Jedi and therefore should be better. But this still feels like he should have come back to Padme yellow-eyed and Dark Sided!

Once again, George Lucas’ racism screws up the story he’s trying to tell. Ugh. Okay, enough movie time for now. Sorry I’m a hopeless binger despite my friends and kitties’ best efforts.

#star wars #attack of the clones #padme amidala #anakin skywalker #shmi skywalker #Jango Fett #watto #cleigg lars #tusken raiders #tw genocide #tw slavery #jocasta #Jedi #Republic #Reconstructwriter rants #star wars prequels

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 4 years

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Whumptober Day 24: Silently We Endure

Summary: Written For Whumptober Day 24. A thousand years after the passing of his Rider, Toothless has found him again. This person is both familiar as well as completely foreign to him, but the kind of past he's left behind as he lives with Toothless and the other dragons matters little. He has found him again and that is enough for Toothless.

Rating: Teen and up

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Stormfly

Pairing: None

Words: 2 787

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: "Forced Mutism”

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: MY 100TH SUBMISSION TO AO3!!!!!

Written for the Whumptober prompt: "Forced Mutism" But instead of showing the whumpee being made mute, I have it as something that is just there.

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

Ao3

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Just like any other day nowadays, today is unbearably hot as well. The sun beats down on the Earth and Toothless finds little solace in the shade, where it is only slightly less hot.

It is late in the afternoon and still the heat hangs on, stubbornly refusing to leave and making all of those trapped within it suffer. He finds himself preferring the chill of the North from so long ago.

It is cooler, though. It is just slightly cooler than it was hours ago at midday and that is the only reason why he is outside in the shade now and not in the cave he and his Rider have made their own.

He's an old dragon. He shouldn't be exposed to such heat when there are places he can lie in that are much more suited to his needs, but his Rider is out here and even after all this time he will still do anything and everything for him.

Now that he thinks of it, he should probably check up on him again and make sure he isn't doing anything reckless when he should be busying himself with making their home livable.

Unlike him, Hiccup isn't old. He's still 18-years-old, a young man, and therefore much too energetic and prone to foolishness.

The home he's supposed to be making liveable is an enormous cave system on the side of a mountain. While the outside is much too hot during the day, the temperature inside the cave is much more stable and thus easier to endure than the outside.

It's a dragon's kind of home, quite suitable for someone who is more dragon than human himself. And safer for him than any human settlement can be, too.

The details are lost on Toothless, but Hiccup wants to somehow bring cooler air into their home through the use of the sun. He has no idea how he's going to accomplish that, but that is the gist of it.

Using humanity's current technology, he wants to create a house specifically for plants, too, a place for animals, a dragon nursery, and so much more. Toothless isn't sure how this will all work, but he believes his Rider capable. This Hiccup will not remember it, but he has proven himself capable of great things before.

He's trying to create an entire village and he's doing it all on his own. Of course, the dragons present are willing to help in any way they can, but much of it is still Hiccup's work. His brain work, at least.

Deciding to get up, Toothless stretches his stiff body, his back and joints popping loudly, his wings in particular before he exits the chamber he and Hiccup have made their own.

There isn't much yet, just the mere beginnings of a home, but it's enough for them for the time being.

The cave system is extensive and it is roomy. Some of the chambers have a sky pocket that allows the light of the sun to come in and it's in such a room that Toothless finds his human.

It is large, dusty, and sandy with little plant life, and in the center is Hiccup with an adolescent Rumblehorn and Toothless remembers him well. He and Hiccup, still insisting on saving every dragon in need, saved this one about a week ago. He has been injured and Hiccup has been nursing him back to health.

He is with him now and tending to his wounds, changing the dressings. Stormfly is there as well, patiently holding his satchel with medical supplies in her beak.

Rumblehorns have thick armor covering their entire bodies except for their underbellies. Hiccup is tending to a wound on the side of this one's belly, using something that sticks to keep the dressings in place.

Toothless' entrance draws Hiccup's attention and he smiles before waving. The dragon responds by coming over with a skip in his step and cooing before he headbutts his Rider and nuzzles him, an affectionate gesture that Hiccup gladly returns with a breathy laugh.

He points towards the wound and Toothless sees what Hiccup wants to show him. The Rumblehorn is well on the mend and the injury looks better than it did when they first found him.

Rumbling proudly at the human's skill, Toothless nudges his back before he lets him work, Hiccup waving him off.

He can practically see it on his face, the "okay, Bud, see you later". He can still hear it in his voice, too, and that while Toothless has never heard him speak in this life before.

His Rider, he can't talk and not by choice.

Though he was walking away, Toothless pauses to watch him get back to work, spotting the faint scar on his throat. The people who did that to him are unknown to Toothless and they should count themselves lucky for that.

"I talk too much," Hiccup had once told him. Or rather, signed to him as he uses his hands to speak now. It's like the hand signals the Dragon Riders of old once used, but much more elaborate. Old as he is, Toothless still manages to understand him even now. His hands have always been very talkative.

Toothless will never understand the reasoning behind a human hurting another human, let alone take away a physical part of them so important to their everyday life.

The dragon returns to his human's side again, who glances at him with a brow raised in confusion. His face is still just as expressive as he remembers.

Lying down next to him, Toothless watches the rest of the treatment instead of going back to the slightly more comfortable room like he originally intended. Hiccup reaches, left hand holding the new dressings in place and a metallic hand comes to land on his head for a quick petting.

Much like his Viking, this one has lived a life already.

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Toothless always keeps an eye on Hiccup, feeling more responsible for the much younger one than ever before.

But in the event that they're not together, they still have a way for him to call out to his dragon.

As Toothless is just down the entrance hall of the cave, searching for his rider as Stormfly made it clear that he was outside in the searing sun when he hears a whistle. Since he can't shout, that's his call for him, a high-pitched whistle. It reaches quite far and is quite loud, which makes it perfect.

Toothless comes running.

"Eh? What was that for? You're not alone?" For as temperamental as dragons can be, there's a certain species of animal that Hiccup fears more than the firebreathing creatures he lives with.

Humans.

Toothless comes outside growling, spotting the two giving his rider trouble. It's not like Hiccup is defenseless, he knows how to knock a head or two around. He just feels much safer with a dragon near, with the Night Fury especially.

"Oh shit, is that a dragon?" One of them yelps in both surprise and amazement, both of them stumble backward in fright.

They are both oddly dressed, having too much stuff on their person. But then they also have something Toothless believes is called a "car" with too much stuff. Traders, perhaps? Or are they thieves?

Feeling much more secure with Toothless around, Hiccup faces the two humans who have come, quite literally, to the middle of nowhere for reasons that can't possibly be good.

"I have nothing." He signs, an air of suspicion around him as he doesn't trust these two at all.

"Again, we have no idea what you're saying, kid. Can't you use your words at all?" The one with the blue vest tied around their waist asks. Since they haven't shared their names yet, Toothless will be referring to this one as "Blue Vest" and the other one as "Red Scarf".

"If they could, I'm sure they would've. But they can't, they're mute." Red Scarf points out to the other one, who looks sheepish.

Toothless isn't sure what to think of these two. Despite their mysterious appearance in this area and their unknown reasons, they don't give off any bad vibes. What sets him off is Hiccup's distrust of them and he distrusts any human they have met so far in their one year since their reunion.

He has reasons not to trust them, sad as they are.

As Hiccup approaches Toothless, coming to stand by his side in the crook of his wing, Red Scarf points something out to their companion. They are both staring at the right side of Hiccup's head, where his hair is the shortest.

"You're a slave?"

Blue Vest asks and Hiccup presses himself further into his dragon's side, hand on his scales. Toothless can almost hear his heart beginning to race.

He shakes his head, offended that they would even ask, though the scar they noticed was indeed once a brand. His glare says enough. And for a short moment, the air is tense. What will the two do now that they have figured this out?

"Not anymore. Doesn't matter if he's a runaway or bought himself free either." Red Scarf states and goes to the back of the car to look in the back.

"Explains the mutism." Blue Vest awkwardly says to their friend, rubbing the back of their neck.

"And your location. You're hiding?" Red Scarf asks, but Hiccup isn't answering that, which is ironically the only answer they need.

Red Scarf comes back holding something wrapped in brown in their hands and cautiously approaches Hiccup, who has to stop himself from backing up. Red Scarf keeps glancing back at the dragon, watching for any signs of aggression.

Toothless lets them get closer, not sensing any ill intent in their approach. When they reach his human and push that pack into his hands, they back off again and join their friend.

"We're leaving now, we're going to leave you alone. So take care, okay? Don't run into any trouble?" Red Scarf asks, to which Hiccup nods reluctantly, confused by these turn of events.

Meeting humans has never gone well for him and these two were the first since coming to live here with these dragons.

It surprises him that they are kind and want him to stay safe instead of trying to drag him back to wherever someone like him needs to be.

They drive off, leaving Toothless content with the way this interaction has gone and Hiccup feeling confused and unsure what he should think of this. But he opens the pack and finds neatly packed food with a container of water and he didn't even need to trade anything for it. He's been given this purely out of the kindness of their hearts.

Has his previous low status garnered him sympathy? In hindsight, they seemed nice. But despite this, Hiccup's history with other humans means he isn't sure what to think or feel.

Toothless headbutts his back to tell him to come back inside with the other dragons. It's getting late, the sun is nearly all the way down, it's time for bed.

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

He was sold into slavery early into his teens.

He doesn't know why he's not even sure if it's the truth. All he knows is that this is what he's been told his entire time as "free labor" before he inevitably escaped.

Toothless wasn't surprised to hear that the reason Hiccup is now free is that he escaped. He has always been a free spirit, even as a Viking, especially as a Viking. Unable to be pinned down, too stubborn to just give up the fight. He can stumble, but he clearly did not give up until he could taste the sky.

He hasn't given the dragon the details on what happened during that time and maybe he never will. All that Toothless truly knows is that it makes Hiccup wake up and break out in tears during many of the nights they spend together.

There are no loud sobs, no crying. Toothless wakes up to labored breaths and lifts his head to look at the troubled human as he sits within his coils. Curled up, his knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, he cries.

He does so without sound, he can't help it without a voice. If Toothless didn't have such a sharp hearing, he wouldn't have even noticed.

Crooning, Toothless straightens and nudges Hiccup's temple to draw his attention. He gives it to him, wrapping an arm around the Night Fury to keep him close. The other, his right, he cradles to his chest. It must hurt and Toothless can guess what the nightmare he woke up from must've been about.

Because his right forearm and hand, just like his left leg once again, is a prosthetic. It's not like any replacement the Vikings he once knew used to have as his new hand looks and works like a hand and his metal foot looks and works like a foot.

He built them both himself from whatever scraps he could find after his escape. Even when he only had one hand to work with, he still created the other without help. Toothless has watched him do it.

And because they are made of scraps, they look like scraps, but to Toothless, they are the most advanced things he has ever seen and his human made them! He can still make everything.

But right now is not the time to think of Hiccup's ingenuity. His right arm is hurting, phantom limb pain, and it's making bad memories resurface. Because whoever used to own him before, they're the ones who took so many parts from him.

"Toothless," A raspy voice, barely above a whisper, crawls out of his throat with much difficulty. The only reason the dragon can hear it is because of his exceptional hearing.

Knowing that a breakdown might be imminent, Toothless quickly wraps a foreleg around him to pull him closer as Hiccup silently sobs and snuggles closer to his dragon in search of comfort and safety. It must've been a terrible nightmare and his arm hurting certainly doesn't help.

Moaning sadly, Toothless holds him closer and lets him cry.

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

It took the better part of a couple of hours before Hiccup could calm enough for them to fall back asleep. He'd needed to let it all out and take some painkillers to make the hurting in his arm stop. After that, once the pain in his heart had abated, too, he could finally sleep again.

It's nights like that that the old Night Fury hates the most. When his Rider is in so much pain that he suffers for hours on end and he hates that he wasn't there to keep it all from happening. So he could keep his leg, so he could keep his arm, the trust in other humans that is supposed to be infallible unless necessary, his voice.

They broke him, tore him piece by piece so many times that even he could hardly survive. Whoever thought themselves deserving of his Rider, Hiccup Haddock, and decided they could be his tormentor they are nameless and faceless, but Toothless despises them all the same. They better hope that they never run into him.

But there is one saving grace.

The next morning after a most difficult and emotionally taxing night, a soundless and breathy laugh reaches the old dragon's ears and he looks over at Hiccup and his latest project, the one that is supposed to bring cooler temperatures during the nigh unbearable Summer days. It, too, is made out of scraps and parts collected on their many trips.

But instead of working now, when the day is cool, Hiccup spends his time playing with the few hatchlings that have managed to be born in this cave. Their numbers are dwindling everywhere.

His arm prosthetic gone for the day after the night he's had to let the limb have a break, Hiccup plays with the hatchling by throwing his wrench in a game of fetch.

It always takes a while to come back to him, the little nadders fighting amongst themselves for who gets to bring the tool. And in the meantime, Hiccup continues his work, frequently looking back at the three before he has to inevitably throw the wrench again.

It's the nights that lay him bare, that show him at his most vulnerable and shows the barely glued cracks inside of him. But during the day, that's when he shows that, despite being broken, he can still thrive just fine.

So Toothless can lay his head down again and continue his rest for the moment.

#whumptober2020 #no.24 #forced mutism #httyd #how to train your dragon #fanfics #tw: implied slavery #tw: implied former slave #hiccup haddock #toothless #hictooth #dragon bros #au #alternate universe #futuristic au #reincarnation au #apocalypse au #my fanfics #silently we endure

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cinnamonest · 3 years

Note

please spare more crumbs for the sex slave au with diluc and kaeya's meimei,,

Thank you for giving me permission to be more depraved this is from forever ago but I'm slowly getting the "forever ago" stuff done lol

I love the concept tho, especially Crepus buying a lil qt and having to teach them how to be good masters bc they’re both dumb clueless boys, bless.

TWs: slavery, implied incest or pseudo-incest, could give vibes as under//age (nothing is specified but I guess it could strike some people that way so I wanna be cautious), noncon/dubcon, mentions of anal, misogynistic, awful depraved and nasty -------------------------------------

God. The arguing. The rivalry. The chaos. Like, with some poly yanderes/owner/master relationships, the two work *together* and focus attention on controlling *you,* but these two are... not like that. They have a lot of rivalry going on half the time.

Now, this could be Crepus buying a slave and basically indoctrinating her as a meimei, but of course, if you actually are one of the boys' bio sis, the one is gonna claim some authenticity - you know, the whole "well she's my real sister, not yours, so I get to fuck her more" kind of thing. The other appeals to "well she's your real sister which makes you worse," and it devolves into arguing back and forth about whether or not the blood relation makes them more or less justified in sticking their dick in you and claiming more rights to meimei's time and attention. Not just to each other either, it's also directed at you -- the whole "hey, I'm your real big brother, so you should spend more time with me than him" kind of thing. It actually can get pretty annoying over time, you have to constantly be soothing not one but TWO egos in desperate need of affirmation. But here I’m going more with the idea of Crepus just buying them a sweet meimei. Diluc's more... patient. He teaches you "touch commands" -- little learned gestures, like a dog. Just the lightest touch on your spine and you know it's a clear message to arch your back, a hand under your chin and thumb pressed against it has you instinctively opening your mouth, a tap to the back of your neck and you kneel. Little gestures that can bend your body and mind with minimal effort. Despite that though, Kaeya is actually the master of The Look™ - the kind that can make you go quiet and apologize in a mere instant when given. But because you know it, expect him to be even harsher if you defy it. Sometimes in your little tantrums you get so mad that you'll have the audacity to ignore that look and keep whining or being a brat which does not end well.

Meimei is what you call free use - any time, anywhere. One of the most important lessons Crepus told you when he first got you/when you were old enough is that you are never to deny the boys any of your holes if they want it. This is just as important for the boys to learn as it is you, he's a big believer in the whole, "if you act like a good proper master, the slave will naturally fall into their role too" sort of thing, so he teaches them to be forceful and dominating, not hesitant to do what they want -- if they're clear on what they want and make known their expectation of your obedience (and the subtle implication of threat of punishments if not complied with), you'll fall into the submissive role you're meant for and naturally want to submit to them like a good little wife-sister-slave.

So, whenever one of them beckons you over, you smile and ask them how you can help. Your brothers work so hard, and it's the least you can do to take care of their needs. Sometimes they just want you to sit on their lap, wrap your arms around them, sit there a while in silence when they're sad, sometimes they want to vent to you about things when they're frustrated, sometimes they want to use you. Of course, the former two usually leads to the last anyway. You're... emotional support pussy. There's important rules and practices to be followed, it's actually rules for all three of you, several apply to them, actually, as Crepus taught you before he died, and it's become second nature for the boys (it works in their benefit, after all). #1. You can never be left alone. There's a lot of reasons for this, but primarily it's in your instinct to get fucked, all you know how to do is take cock, so if you were left alone you may very well go running off and jump onto the first thing with a dick, and they can't have that. So basically you either have to be with one of them, within their sight, or accounted for in some way - there's a couple of installed tethering hooks and the like on the walls in several areas of the house you can be attached to. But, really, they're not usually necessary, with two very horny males running around you're busy most of the time, even if it's a more passive task. You spend a lot of time sitting on someone's lap, sometimes taking naps throughout the day with whoever decides they're tired at the moment. So, you spend more or less every waking moment with one or both -- well, every sleeping moment too, of course you don't have you own room. You alternate nights between the two just like you were told to. There's not really any task you do alone. Bathing? It's always gotta be with one or the other. Sleeping? Always with one or the other. Even when you're cooking -- because obviously you do that, they wouldn't even know how to, since you've always done it -- one is always standing beside you, talking to you, or sitting a ways over in a chair as they vent about their day. Oh, speaking of that, as aforementioned, you're there for emotional burdens too. When one has had a long day, what would they do if meimei wasn't there for them to vent and whine and complain to? You've always been taught to be a good listener. Don't interrupt. Listen to everything and don't zone out. Don't oppose their actions when they're telling you about their problems, always tell them they were in the right and comfort them. Smile while you listen. That's how you were trained to respond when one of them has some burden to unload on you. Always offer your body to make them happy. That's the last part, and they've never not taken you up on the offer. That being said, sometimes you have to... motivate them. Push a little bit. You see, you're just so sweet that sometimes your brothers might want to just spend the entire day in bed with you. So you have to motivate them to do their actual work. Tell them that if they don't go to work, if they stay in bed all day inside you, how are you supposed to clean the house and make dinner for them? So they sigh and accept you're right and go off to work after all. And, again, the rule is important for them too. You can never run off on your own, but they're also vigilant not to ever leave you alone. When you're first bought, Crepus had to constantly pull them back inside the house when they'd go to another room for something because see, you're leaving her all alone and she's going to go running off and it'll be your fault. So they had to be conditioned to communicate and make sure you were always accounted for, taught how to restrain you properly. If you were left in a room, Crepus would come by to make sure they remembered to lock you inside, would test the tightness of your leash if you were tethered to something, and sigh and chastise if one of them neglected to do it right. #2. No getting off on your own, this is a rule they have to help enforce. It's a waste - you have TWO big brothers, surely one of them is always going to be available and eager, so really, getting yours without either of them involved is pretty selfish, and worthy of punishment if found doing so. If for whatever reason they're all too busy, you have the option of asking permission to ride and grind on their thigh, but no cumming until they're done with their task and are available to properly handle it. Crepus is particularly adamant about this rule, as well as enforcing the same mentality in them, doesn't think it's appropriate for a girl to be so selfishly absorbed with pleasure when she should be giving it to the men that own her. For one, a girl should be spending all of her time dedicated to serving her masters in some way, and two, they're both needy boys that would be eager to fuck you at any time. So really, masturbating is an act of defiance and will be dealt with as such. #3. No favoritism! There will be times where you may feel mad at one or the other, and sure you have different levels of how much you can tolerate certain behaviors... But, you have to train yourself against that. Meimei should have no limits of what she can tolerate - that's part of your whole purpose. So even when you're mad at one, you can't try to avoid that one and go to the other, you still need to divide your time, energy, and body equally. Don't talk bad about one to the other, don't try to spend more time with one or the other at any time. This also includes pitting them against each other through jealousy, it's a huge no-no. Don't try to make one jealous of the other. If they catch you doing that, sooner or later they'll realize what you're doing, and deal with it, usually harshly, since it's seen as a high-ranking offense. In fact, you really shouldn't be mad, ever. Your big brothers know what's best for you, so if you're mad over a disagreement, you just need to accept that they're right and you're wrong and that you need to submit to their will. Outwardly showing you're upset is bratty behavior, things like pouting or giving them the cold shoulder are punishable offenses. #4. You're also a peacekeeper. Diffuse fights. Both of your big brothers can be... stubborn, prideful individuals. This leads to pretty regular conflict over this and that. It's meimei's job to help with that, calm them down with a smile on your face. Or, if it works better, with some tears and a quivering lip. Please don't fight, you say with watery eyes, sniffling, and well, they can't help but feel bad, they both turn their attention to you rather than to each other and apologize for making you upset. And if they're having one if their regular it's my turn kind of arguments, your job is to propose the easy solution of sharing. You have more than one hole to fuck, and can easily cuddle one on each side. It should be an obvious solution. Oh, and they fight sometimes over who gets to do what, who spends time with you, but doing different things rather than both wanting to do the same thing. One is sitting at his desk to work and he can't be expected to focus on work without meimei sitting on his lap and cockwarming him of course, but the other says he wants to take a nap and how is he supposed to sleep if he can't rest his head on meimei's tits? There is only so much of her to go around! But they will legit adjust their schedules to make sure they get alone time. And are very nitpicky about it -- wait why do *you* get an extra hour on Tuesday?? If you get that I deserve an extra hour on Thursday -- that sort of thing. You're supposed to be able to propose such ideas. It's your job to come up with solutions that make everyone happy. You can cockwarm one brother while he works and tell the other that hey, if he postpones the nap, you can just ride him until he cums and can sleep right? Things like that. #5 Actually isn't for you, it's for them, regarding punishment. When Crepus got you, the poor boys didn't really know how to go about doing it, so they had to be taught. It's important to be a good master and know how to do so adequately, you know? To not let anger get the better of them and go too far, since sometimes they might get too mad about something. In fact, a good trick, he teaches them, is to just tie you up, and go blow off some steam before coming back to punish you. That way they won't go too far, and you'll have to wait around in fear for a while, which just helps the punishment sink in better. But at the same time, don't go too light. No matter how much you whimper, he says, don't feel pity for her and go lax. It's intentional, it's just your nature to try and fake-cry to try and get out of it. You did something bad, so they shouldn't feel bad about it, even if you cry and squeal. It's the right thing to do. You're supposed to cry, you're supposed to say it hurts and whimper, that just means they're doing it right. But of course, there's some sensitivities to be taught. If they have you bent over a knee, they have to make sure to only hit your ass and the back of your thighs, make sure not to go up too high and hit your back, since that could cause injury. If they're gonna fuck your ass as punishment, make sure to use a certain amount of lube. Things like that, it's important to be good masters, just as much as it is your job to be a good little slave.

And to remember, of course, that meimei is... an inferior little creature. Don't get mad at her just because she's stupid and doesn't understand this or that, that's not her fault. She can't be expected to be smart or responsible, that's their job. But also, don't feel pressured to give her what she wants just because she wants it or anything. And, most importantly, don't start having self-doubt and ever think she might be right about something while they're wrong, because obviously that can't be the case. You might get defiant and try to insist you know better than them, act like you're just as capable of something as they are, or think your opinions matter or something, but in that case, they have a responsibility to remind you of your place.

#tw: incest #tw: misogyny #lena's asks #atml #.meimei

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nanasparadise · 3 years

Text

Yandere + Darling playlist

Hiya everyone! I’ve seen some people here on Tumblr do playlists for certain characters and I thought to myself ‘wow, what a fun idea’! So I decided to do something similar. I looked for songs I like and checked, if their songs could potentially be seen through a Yandere or Darling lense (or both). I hope you enjoy this!

Disclaimer: Some of the songs have no specific interpretation and some do. For those who have one, I’m not trying to undermine the original intention/meaning, I merely wanna show you a different perspective.

TW: mentions of murder, mentions of cheating, mentions of abuse, mentions of Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of the police, mentions of an epileptic fit, mentions of emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, MINORS DNI

Yandere:

“Breezeblocks” by Alt-J

The lyrics and the music video are pretty self-explanatory.

“Figure It Out” by Royal Blood

The music video implies yandere-ness, the lyrics less so (but honestly, the guitar riff alone is worth listening to the song).

“Midnight Show” by The Killers

This one is one of my faves because I’ve never really payed attention to the lyrics until this year and then it hit me like a truck. It’s about the narrator (do you say that as well for songs?) killing a woman, probably their girlfriend or the woman they pined for, out of jealousy (cheating is implied)

“Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine” by The Killers

This song is actually a continuation of “Midnight Show”. Here, the narrator has been caught by the police as they try to make them confess for their crime.

“Always Forever” by Cults

You could just see this song as a sweet romance between two lovers or you could take the yandere route.

“Kiri” by Monoral

First of all, ever since I saw Ergo Proxy, I fell in love with this song! Secondly, I can’t say what makes this tune yandere to me, it’s just vibes honestly, so check it out and see it for yourself!

“Sparta” by Monoral

Again, I love this song and again, it’s just vibes.

“Blind” by Placebo

Ah, Placebo, my beloved <3 The lyrics of this one are quite sad and they remind me of a desperate and clingy kinda yandere.

“Stockholm Syndrome” by Muse

I mean, the title already says it xD. But funny enough, the lyrics never indicate that ‘Darling’ succombs to Stockholm Syndrome.

“I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE” by Måneskin

Just like many other bisexual Europeans, I’ve fallen for the Måneskin craze lmao. But for real now, the lyrics aren’t particularly yandere, but you could see them as a yandere being desperate to both please and dominate their darling.

“Creep” by Radiohead

This song is the ultimate yandere tune. You can’t change my mind.

Darling:

“Me And My Husband” by Mitski

This song just breaks my heart, honestly. It’s about an unhappy marriage (maybe even potentially abusive) and ‘Darling’ in this case has to pretend that everything is fine, even though they feel hollow and broken inside.

“Fahrradsattel” by Pisse (you can find it on Soundcloud)

Okay, this one is a wild take. I personally think this song is a metaphor for marriage. Marriage is portrayed as restraining and negative though and ‘Darling’ would prefer to be in a more open relationship. But again, this is my interpretation, because virtually, the lyrics don’t make much sense. My fellow German-speaking peeps or anyone who wants to philosophise with me (there are English translations of the song), be free to tell me your opinion!

“E.V.O.L” by Marina and the Diamonds (you can find it on Soundcloud under her former artist name, that’s why I used it here)

This is about a toxic relationship, pretty self-explanatory.

“Kiss With A Fist” by Florence + The Machine

This song is perfect for a darling, who doesn’t accept the yandere’s abuse and fights them back.

“Can’t Pin Me Down” by Marina

Again, also matching for a darling who doesn’t take the yandere’s bullshit.

“She’s Lost Control” by Joy Division

My favourite Joy Division song <3 it’s actually about a woman having an epileptic fit, but I think you could also interpret the lyrics to represent a state of mind rather than a physical state. In that case, it would definitely match with a desperate Darling’s well-being (or rather lack of it).

“Blue Monday” by New Order

The lyrics are pretty open, so I thought they could also apply to a darling, who’s getting emotionally manipulated by the yandere and they wish to be gone from them.

Both:

“The Bitter End” by Placebo

I reckoned the lyrics could both apply to a darling, who gave up fighting, or a yandere, who’s very desperate to keep darling by their side, even though they see their darling slipping away from them.

“I’m Not Calling You A Liar” by Florence + The Machine

Again, this song could be interpreted through the lense of the darling and the yandere: ‘Darling’ is broken by the yandere’s abuse and lets them do whatever they want as long as they get their affection or the yandere is so desperate for their darling, they’d try anything and let them do anything to them.

#yandere #yandere playlist #tw: yandere #tw: mentions of murder #tw: mentions of abuse #tw: mentions of police #tw: mentions of epileptic fit #tw: toxic relationship #tw: mentions of cheating #tw: mentions of stockholm syndrome #tw: mentions of emotional manipulation #minors dni

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obsessionsposts · 4 years

Text

Deleterious Compulsion (1)

Tw: Blackmailing/Sexism/ Possible historical inaccuracies/ implied homophobia/ unhealthy relationship/ OOC/ grammatical errors.

Sharp honeyed eyes settled on the target, pouncing on the templar Altaïr slitted his throat and rivulets of blood began to pour. Thus, he took a feather and drenched it with the templar's blood. Afterwards, he began to head back to Masyaf castle to report his success to the Mualim.

●▬▬▬▬▬๑⇩⇩๑▬▬▬▬▬●

Meanwhile in Masyaf...

"Ah, I see that you've completed your mission fairly well. But, that is very expected from an exemplary assassin such as you!", Al-Mualim commended.

Altaïr stared at the Al-Mualim with a stoic visage. Respectfully, he expressed his gratitude. Before he left, Altaïr asked about his next mission.

" Master, what of my next mission?", inquired he in a montone voice.

" Don't be hasteful, for the next objective is of such importance that you,Malik, and Kadar will be entrusted with. And, there will be no room for failure.", Al-Mualim voice boomed in his ears.

" I understand,Master.But, why should I do it with them? When I am capable to do it on my own.", Altaïr voiced his thoughts in bumptious manner.

"Now,now. Altaïr. Don't be so concited with your abilities, for one day it will be your downfall. Moreover, how the mission goes is not up to debate. You're dismissed!", his master dismissed him with a disappointment lacing his words.

Grumbling and murmuring, Altaïr left to train some of his brothers.

●▬▬▬▬▬๑⇩⇩๑▬▬▬▬▬●

Junaid was your mask that have gotten you into the Brotherhood. Without it, you'd been rejected,thrown, or worse left to starve like those women whom are living under the tyranny of the Templars in Masyaf.

Since then, you've been careful not to reveal your identity around anyone especially Altaïr. Who is oddly seemed suspicious of you for what ever reason his mind conjured up.

" Hey, Junaid. Brother Altaïr is back from his mission. Which means more training with him! Aren't you thrilled to be taught the tenants of the assassins by the hands of a prodigy", Sayed voice startled you from your train of thought and made you jump slightly.

" A-ah, yes. Very exhilarated to be at the presence of an assassin model", you spoke sarcasm coating your words.

God! you loathed that arrogant prick. He thinks he is beyond everyone, because of his innate talents and precise instinct.

" Aren't you cranky today, brother! Plus, you seemed jumpy and most of all you....don't appreciate Altaïr?" , questioned playfully Sayed.

" Don't get me wrong, I appreciate him. However, his personality is as bland as a wooden table. As well as, he is suspicious and harsh with me when I train with him.Otherwise, I appreciate his training", you sighed and started to head toward the designated practice area.

Once you reached the area, you spotted a certain man cladded in white with the hood up. Ah....Altaïr, what a pleasure you truly are!

Suddenly,you were handled by the said man and were pinned to the brick wall behind you.

Golden orbs dissecting your (e/c) ones, along with your body language for any sketchy behavior.

" I know, you're up to something ,Junaid. Spit it out now. I have seen you on multiple occasions turning around", bringing his tanned face near yours to the point that your noses were touching.

" I'd say peace and safety to you, but you don't deserve either of them. Anyway, I have nothing to say or hide from the Brotherhood that have risen me", you sassed back and clutched his hand then flipped him on his back.

" On the other hand, Altaïr I am not someone to be meddled with", pressing your hidden knife against his jugular. After that, you stood up and decided to go to Al-Mualim to receive your mission.

Leaving a fuming eagle behind, yet he appeared to get more engrossed about his 'pupil' that took him by surprise. A ghost of a smile decorated his physiognomy for a moment , then it vanished when he remembered his co-mission.

If he had a choice, at least he would bring Junaid with him for he is as capable as him. Alas, Altaïr went to Yaser's bureau to discuss the upcoming objective.

●▬▬▬▬▬๑⇩⇩๑▬▬▬▬▬●

Meanwhile in Damascus...

Howard Wickhame*...

A templar preoccupied on satiating his hedonistic wants at the expense of the people. He has a human trafficking network that expands from Damascus to Jersuleum. Most of the humans are females ranged from : 13 to 21 in age.

Most are either used as sex slaves or sold to be one. He is found commonly in Jerusalem, at the market. How abhorrent! Soon enough, he will answer to my blade.

While you began to make preparation toward Jerseluam, a knock alarmed you of the forthcoming of an assassin.

In which, you hastily covered your torso with bandage and put on your assassin uniform.

You went to get the door, only to be surprised by the familiar tanned face of Altaïr. Flabbergasted, you ushered him to lay on the soft purple cushion.

" What a pleasant surprise! What made you come all the way to Damascus? Or, are you here to ridicule my skills again?" , you uttered vexed at his presence.

" I came here...not to ridicule you, but to escort on your mission", responded Altaïr gruffly.

" WHAT!!! No, you wont!!! I'll be do-", as you were delivering your words incredulously, you were cut off by Altaïr.

" You have no matter in this as I am your superior as well as the Mualim issued the order", Altaïr lied pathologically with a condesending smirk.

" Urgh, fine. Let's get it over, then I will never have to see your face again", you replied again stabbing his muscular chest with your digits.

How naïve? Not to check the validity of my words. But, that will make my work easier. I want to know the real you not the illusion that you fool everyone with. I know you're hiding something and I will figure it out. Plus, you're quite astute and vigorous for someone who have a petite structure.

" Is that how you speak to your superior? In addition, you won't get rid of me that easily considering I am your teacher. Either way, tell me about our target", Altaïr commented with teasing tone and a minuscule smile appeared. When, he saw you scratching your temple in frustration.

He wondered why you don't like him like the rest of the creed. And, why are you keen on working on your own? There is something, that he knew.

That is his main reason of the trip, to discover your true identity. Maybe, you'll slip throughout the mission and he takes advantage of that. The idea fledged a smile on his handsome almond face that made you double check if you're either dreaming or blind.

" Here I thought you could not smile and be an asshole, but I am wrong at the former and the latter still stands.", you remarked wondrous at the phenomena that happens infront of your eyes.

Gazing at you with his honey orbs and a genuine smile grazing his sculpted brown face.

" What? You can take me by surprise, but I can't. I'm more than you think, keep that in mind." Responded the veteran assassin with a hum.

" May I inquire a question,Master?", you smiled as you watched his expression changed from confident to a pure shock. Quite amusing!

" To call me master and ask me a question, now that what I sought from you brother. And, yes you can.", Altaïr answered with subtle tint of joviality.

"From what I've heard there is a co-mission, where you and two other assassins are involved. Why waste your time here, when you can focus on that?", you questioned him skeptic on his intention.

Frowning bitterly, as he remembered what Al-Mualim spoke of.

" The mission isn't any time soon, so Al-Mualim sent me here.", replied Altaïr with a low grumble.

Shrugging his expression, you began to retell him what you know of Howard Wickhame. As you retell the info, you can't help but feel the intense gaze of Altaïrs was watching every move you make.

No matter, it's probably his usual way to make sure that you relayed the info truthfully!

Eventually, both of you are on your horses to Jerusalem to eliminate that bastard,Howard.

●▬▬▬▬▬๑⇩⇩๑▬▬▬▬▬●

Jerusalem, at the market.....

" Gentlemen, I welcome you to my market where all your sexual needs are met. With a certain price, of course.", Howard ushered his large rough hands towards the aristocratic men of Jerusalem to capture their attention on his products.

Wailing and crying of women and children were heard alike, from the shallow cages that they were inserted in.

" As demonstrated here, I present you with the finest products from as young as 13 years to a full matured lady. They can serve well, I guarantee you much of that", He spoke expression developing into utter pride, as he saw the leacherous faces of his guests.

Business is hitting a jackpot that's for sure. Not to mention, he needs to report to Robért de sable as soon as he can.

Oblivious to their presence, two assassins were hidden behind a mosque. Listening to every word that dripped from his filthy maw.

" Okay, now. You take the guards down and I'll deal with Howard on my own. Then we can liberate all of the captives. Okay?" , you muttered to the brunette beside you.

Altaïr hummed and nodded.

He didn't knew whether to look forward to seeing the templar seeping out the crimson liquid, or for your slip up that he will happen.

He didn't know the reason, why he is fixated with you to such degree? In the end, you are a student of his. He shouldn't have these thought about his student. It is alike a compulsion that drives him to irrationality and madness.

Soon after, the duo started to execute their short-term strategy.

Stealithy, Altaïr began to take out the guards one by one. On the other hand, you camouflaged yourself with the people around you as not to alert the templars about your whereabouts; thus failing the mission.

'One more step, and that templar is no more.'

Getting your trusty hidden blade ready, you approached your designated prey with a steady pose. Quiet, hidden, and unnoticed by the populas.

Closing in, you lunged at Howard taking him by surprise. However, as soon as you lunged at him an arrow was lodged into your ribs.

' اللعنة!*، I have to do it hastily '

Then, you slashed his throat and the cement floor was decorated crimson.

Screams were heard from the guests, notifying the enemy of your location.

As soon as his body hit the floor, the Templars were tailing you.

Beside that, the injuries is getting worse and worse to the point you began to haze out and gradually fall down.

' Well, I guess this is my time. At least, I served the Brotherhood with honour and dignity'

The last thing your eyes layed upon was a flash of white mixed with brown and red.

When Altaïr saw your body, he panicked and ran impulsively to pick your wounded body. He won't let you die, especially at the hands of those fucking templars!

The bright side is that you made an error that will confiscate your mask away. So now, he can finally relish on your true self.

●▬▬▬▬▬๑⇩⇩๑▬▬▬▬▬●

At the bureau...

"Oh, Altaïr...What have you brought this time?", Malik sighed until he layed his brown eyes on your unconscious body, then worry began to seep into his mind.

" Move aside, I require your room so I could heal Junaid.", Altaïr responded tersely.

" If it wasn't for the sake of Junaid, I'd not give an acre of this to you. Now, go tend to Junaid before he dies of your own incompetence", Malik grumbled and motioned his almond hands to the chocolate door. In which, plants designs and Arabic calligraphy were carved upon its surface.

Soon after, Altair kicked the door only to be introduced by a lofty and plushy room with a soft harbor grey bed on the center of the room.

Instantaneously, Altaïr setted your sparked out frame down on the bed and began to remove your uniform one by one,until he reached your bloody chest that is covered by bandages that were soaked by your blood.

Until, suddenly his hands were engulfed by yours in a vice-like grip.

" What in the name of god, do you think you're doing?", you hissed painfully.

(E/C) eyes dead set on his pulchritudinous honey eyes that you wished to swim into it. If, those eyes didn't belong to your haughty and secluded mentor.

" Simply, I was tending to you. Considering, you're currently on the verge of bleeding to death.", He responded with concern interweaved in his words.

And, for the first time Altaïr took off his hood off. To reveal, short brown locks and and a well-sculpted golden face that the angels might cry from envy. But, what enraptured you the most is the look of vulnerability that carved his face.

Then, he sat beside you.

" Since when, did you care about my wellbeing? When all this time you're trying to fault me for something that I didn't commit", you spit at him bitterly. Confusion,anger, and hurt were pointed at him as if they were spears ready to inflict harm upon him in your time of agony.

Funnily enough, you didn't acknowledge which is worse the jabbing pain of the arrow that is still lodged in your ribs or the emotional and the paranoia that altaïr instilled on you. The fear of being found out for who you truly are, along with the fear of losing the only family that cares for you and vice versa.

" No, I never hated you. On the other hand, It is the polar of it. I care for you more than a mentor should for his pupils. So, let me reconcile with you by helping you recover.", He confessed tenderness dripping off his scarred lips. At, this point his repressed emotions were getting off hand and he fucked it up more by revealing his thoughts to his most cherished mentee.

' اللعنة علي*، Malik was right. I am a fool '

Astonished, you didn't know whether you should speak or not. To your dismay, your eyes started to water and a waterfall ensued.

" P-please, Altaïr. I beg of you to let me take care of myself a-and then we can speak of it", your voice has begin to crack and revert to its feminine tone.

Startled by the tone, Altaïr begin to check the source of the voice. Only, to find it resonated from you. Maybe, you are a feminine boy, not what he is currently thinks of. No women were allowed throughout the brotherhood*.

All those 15 years has gone to waste. Thanks to a confession of a man,quite pathetic isn't it? How, fate amuses itself by your despair and agony!

If only, you had had not been forsaken by your family then this predicament would not happen.

" I'm truly sorry, Junaid. But, it is my duty to tend for my brethren. Plus, you're not in suitable condition to do it. You will only hurt yourself. So, lay down and let me remove these flithy bandages", Altaïr then began to remove the bandages , against your cries not to, only to be astounded by the sight of breasts. His golden pupils dilated in response to the utter shock.

Ah, shit. So, you were a woman masquerading as man all along.

So that's why there is something off about you. Not to mention, the paranoia and tendencies to working alone.

It clicks now.

" Tell me, What is your full true name?", Altaïr interrogated you coldly that you begun to shiver now that the truth has arisen.

" My true name is ( Y/n) and I am an orphan. All of my family are dead, not a single relative remains alive. Now, that I've told you. I beg you that you don't reveal my identity to anyone, because the brotherhood is all I've left", you replied desperation ran along your voice.

" You must understand my circumstances, the reason I joined the creed is to prevent people like me to live under the clutches of megalomaniacs such as templars", you added hoping that satiated La'ahads interrogation.

" That depends, tell me more about yourself whilst I tend to you", He responded husky voiced as he began to remove the arrow slowly. In which, you reacted in hissing and groaning of pain.

Despite all this fiasco, the nature of his feelings haven't changed not a one bit. If anything, it skyrocketed. Plus, now he doesn't need to worry about being gay. Also, he can use your identity as bargaining chip to ensure you will be his and no else.

'Perfect' , he mused as he internally grinned to himself at the thought of you becoming his for eternity. Soon enough, a ring will bond you together.

At, first it was your astute and skills that enraptured him akin to a fly stuck in a spider's web. Now, it is the truth that captured him and how similar of an upbringing you both share. Many more to be followed he liked including: your thirst for knowledge and truth.

" Lastly, I only ask of you this", Altaïr's strong muscular body encircled your petite one's in his grasp. Then, he used his index to turn your face towards his.

" What do you ask? you've already ruined what I've built", you expressed grimly trying to escape the grasp your in. However, it was futile and the grip tightened more.

" If, you don't want me to abolish it. Then, abide me, become mine, and above all love me like I love you", he said in mellisonant tone to lure you more in his grasp.

Not, that will matter. At this point you have no choice, but to abide. Or, risk the revelance of your identity and your forced resignation from the creed.

Plus, it is his word against yours. And, you knew that you have no chance against him.

" Go, ahead. You took everything from me. Now, the only thing that I have is you", the eagle has cornered its sly prey into a corner and devoured it until a husk was left behind.

" That's excellent, your focus should be always on me. If only, you've had focused on me earlier; you'd not be in this predicament. But, then again my compulsion would make me take you either ways.", Altaïr responded as he began to pepper your jugular in kisses and bites. Soon enough, your neck was purple from him marking it with his bites.

" No matter, you'll be mine as I am yours for as long as life goes. (Y/n)ِأ��ا أحبك ", Altaïr confessed as he trapped you in the bed with his golden strudy frame that was so fit that it was built by god himself.

Shortly, Altaïr connected his lips with yours in a passionate kiss.

" Now sleep, my love. For, tomorrow you will report to Al-Mualim as long as I am there.", Altaïr took both yours and his uniform off. Then, engulfed your form toward his. So, now your back is toward him.

Next, he layed a gentle kiss on your head then he drifted to slumber.

Soon, you followed suit but with regrets riddling your despaired mind.

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A/n: That's the longest One shot,so far. However, I might make a part 2 if you want. Also, if you want a continuation do you want it a lemon?

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere fandoms #yancore #yandere assassin creed #yandere AC

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lo-lynx · 4 years

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No cock = no sexuality? Geldings in ASOIAF

TW: Rape, violence, sexism, racism

Spoiler warning: Spoilers for all A Song of Ice and Fire books

“Lord Crow is welcome to steal into my bed any night he dares. Once he's been gelded, keeping those vows will come much easier for him."- Val, A Dance with Dragons, Jon XI

First of all, this is a great quote by Val. Second of all, I’ve noticed that this idea of gelding/castration to reduce/remove male sexuality occurs relatively often in ASOIAF. Before I go any further, I feel like I should clarify that one’s genitalia does not determine one’s gender. A person with a penis is not necessarily a man, and a man does not necessarily have a penis. However, both in our world and in the world of ASOIAF people insist on thinking that and tend to place quite a lot of significance in specifically penises. I’ve written before on this blog about eunuchs, masculinity, gender etc, so in this essay I want to look at that issue from another angle, namely the assumption that no cock = no sexuality.

A while back when I was doing research for this essay about Vary and masculinity, I came upon this quote from the book Eunuchs in Antiquity and Beyond:

Why were men castrated? Several reasons can be advanced: control and domination, punishment, political reasons, need for special qualities or abilities, religious, sexual or erotic reasons, and medical or health reasons. Some ancient writers emphasized that eunuchs were easier to control. (…) In the United States in recent years there have been several movements to castrate, either literally or chemically, individuals involved in sex crimes, especially those involving adults with children. (…) How effective physical castration is in preventing sex crimes is debatable, in spite of public belief to the contrary. (Bullough 2002, 5-7)

Now, I think we can all agree that sex crimes should be punished. But this quote made me think about the practice of castration/gelding as punishment as it occurs in ASOIAF, especially since this quote states that the effectiveness of this is debatable. When doing research for this essay I searched A Search of Ice and Fire for the word “gelded” and got 55 results. Now, loads of those were about gelded horses, but 21 are about gelding people. Of those 21 results I judged 13 to be about how gelding was being used as punishment (mainly for sex crimes), six about how gelding would be used as preventive measures against sex crimes (and two I didn’t know how to categorise). I’ll go into some of these instances here, as I try to explore what gelding as punishment/preventive measure against sex crimes says about the view on masculinity and male sexuality in ASOIAF.

Now, first some background on masculinity and male sexuality. I’ve written EXTENSIVLY before on how from antiquity until modern times for someone to be seen as a “real man” their body and sexual behaviour has had to fit certain criteria. If you want to read more on that, go read my essay on Varys. But briefly: to be a real man according to (Western) society (from Ancient Greece until now) you have to act manly (be strong, in control etc), have a penis, testicles, have penetrative sex (preferably with women), and father children (or at least be capable of fathering children). So, if you’re castrated you can’t be a “real man”? Well, according to Westerosi logic, the answer is pretty much no. (See this and this essay) The consequences of these masculine ideals are quite clear in ASOIAF, as for instance researcher Shiloh Carroll have pointed out:

Martin rejects the idea that chivalry created an ideal society where men fought only to protect their women or in grand, bloodless tournaments, instead creating a society in which chivalry is a thin veneer over a violent, toxic masculinity that victimizes men, women, and children alike. Martin’s Westeros does not reward chivalry, does not even really believe in chivalry as more than a masquerade behind which ‘true’ masculinity- violent, aggressive, and misogynist- hides. (2018, 56)

As Carroll also points out, one of the clearest examples of this is the prevalence of rape in the story. According to her, it seems as if most characters in story believe that most if not all men are capable of rape (ibid, 93). It also seems clear that most of the time, such crimes are not punished. But let’s look at some instances where it’s at least on the table:

A former slave came, to accuse a certain noble of the Zhak. The man had recently taken to wife a freedwoman who had been the noble's bedwarmer before the city fell. The noble had taken her maidenhood, used her for his pleasure, and gotten her with child. Her new husband wanted the noble gelded for the crime of rape, and he wanted a purse of gold as well, to pay him for raising the noble's bastard as his own. Dany granted him the gold, but not the gelding. "When he lay with her, your wife was his property, to do with as he would. By law, there was no rape." Her decision did not please him, she could see, but if she gelded every man who ever forced a bedslave, she would soon rule a city of eunuchs.

(A Dance with Dragons, Daenerys I)

‘King Stannis keeps his men well in hand, that's plain. He lets them plunder some, but I've only heard of three wildling women being raped, and the men who did it have all been gelded.’

(Jon in A Storm of Swords, Samwell IV)

‘Well now,’ the serjant said, ‘naked steel. Seems to me I smell an outlaw. You know what Lord Tarly does with outlaws?’ He still held the egg he’d taken from the cart. His hand closed, and the yolk oozed through his fingers.

‘I know what Lord Randyll does with outlaws,’ Brienne said. ‘I know what he does with rapers too.’

She had hoped the name might cow them, but the serjant only flicked egg off his fingers and signalled to his men to spread out. Brienne found herself surrounded by steel points. ‘What was it you were saying, wench? What is it Lord Tarly does to…’

‘…rapers,’ a deeper voice finished. ‘He gelds them or sends them to the Wall. Sometimes both. And he cuts fingers off thieves.’

(A Feast for Crows, Brienne III)

Now, the two first people on that list are people we as readers tend to sympathise with and think are good people most of the time. Randyl Tarly much less so. But what these quotes do show are that gelding as punishment for rape is widely accepted, both in Westeros and Essos (even if Dany doesn’t grant that punishment in that specific quote it seems clear that she wanted to and would in other circumstances). It’s also interesting to note how, in the passage about Lord Tarly’s punishment of rape, it is also noted that the punishment for theft is the cutting off of fingers. One can see a parallel here, with in both cases the ostensible guilty body part being cut off (with rape the genitalia, with thievery the fingers). This attitude to punishment can be seen as playing into the so called “disability as punishment trope”. Researcher Mia Harrison describes that trope thusly:

The ‘disability as punishment’ trope is one of the oldest disability tropes, with its roots stretching back to biblical and mythological narratives. The trope is frequently used in classical stories where characters are blinded as direct or implied punishment for wrongdoing such as the biblical Zedekiah and Tobit, Rhoecus and Phineus of Greek mythology, and Peeping Tom in the legend of Lady Godiva. (Harrison 2018, 29)

Now, while one might want to punish rapists, one should remember that it’s not clear that sure castration actually makes people less likely to rape again. So, we’re really just punishing people with a disability, and by doing that essentially saying that a disability is a punishment.

Now, as I mentioned earlier in this essay, there’s also several cases of what I’ve called “preventive gelding”. The most prominent of these are of course the Unsullied, but I want to begin with a quote from Jaime III in A Feast for Crows when he talks with Ser Bonifer Hasty, who have been tasked with holding Harrenhal:

He was sober, just, and dutiful, and his Holy Eighty-Six were as well disciplined as any soldiers in the Seven Kingdoms, and made a lovely sight as they wheeled and pranced their tall grey geldings. Littlefinger had once quipped that Ser Bonifer must have gelded the riders too, so spotless was their repute.

So, here, similarly to the quote from Val that started this essay, a joke is made about gelding men to make them not rape people. The whole premise of the joke that Jaime remembers is that men cannot possible control themselves, and their sexual lusts, if they still have their genitalia. But, as I said, the most prominent example of “preventive gelding” in the books are the Unsullied. Here, I will once again quote Mia Harisson, because while she analyses the show, not the books, her point still stands, and I simply cannot put it better than she does:

The Unsullied are the most normalized example of eunuchs in Game of Thrones. Children are sold from a young age to the Unsullied slavemasters, with males being trained as highly obedient soldiers. Their names are taken from them, instead being replaced with that of vermin such as ‘Red Flea’ and ‘Grey Worm’, and their genitals are removed in the final stages of training. They are described as having ‘absolute obedience, absolute loyalty’ (…) The Unsullied body is systemized into fragments that are categorized as ‘useful’ (the parts of the body can be used to fight) and ‘useless’ (the parts of the body that cannot. The slave master demonstrates the systemization of the Unsullied body by slicing off the nipple of one of his soldiers while explaining that ‘men don’t need nipples’. The Unsullied challenge notions of ‘able-bodied heterosexuality’ by considering the sexual, able body as not simply unnecessary, but an obstacle toward obedience (…) The Unsullied do not embody a masculine identity- they are not considered men at all. This is not to suggest, however, that the Unsullied should be considered positive examples of non-normative identity representation. Instead, they present a clear idea of what should be considered the ‘acceptable’ queer or disabled body: docile, compliant, and useful only in the service of others. (Harrison 2018, 38)

So, the idea of gelding the Unsullied is that they will be obedient, and that their bodies can be utilized in the most effective way. It is also clear in the books that one of the so called “perks” of the Unsullied is that they won’t rape and plunder, for instance:

‘Your Grace,’ said Jorah Mormont, ‘I saw King's Landing after the Sack. Babes were butchered that day as well, and old men, and children at play. More women were raped than you can count. There is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs. The scent of blood is all it takes to wake him. Yet I have never heard of these Unsullied raping, nor putting a city to the sword, nor even plundering, save at the express command of those who lead them. Brick they may be, as you say, but if you buy them henceforth the only dogs they'll kill are those you want dead.’ (A Storm of Swords, Daenerys II)

So, soldiers who won’t rape and plunder, sounds great, right? Well, the drawback is of course that the only way characters can see this happening is by pre-emptively gelding them. Now, this is hardly unique to ASOIAF, during antiquity slaves were also castrated because it was believed this made them easier to control (Bullough 2002, 6). During this time eunuchs were also often servants to women at court, perhaps most famously in harems (Llewellyn-Jones 2002, 34). In part this connection between women and eunuchs seems to have been because both women and eunuchs were considered “imperfect creatures and incomplete human specimens” since they lacked testicles (ibid). Both women and eunuchs were also seen as sexually available, due to their lower social standing than men, which was the case in Ancient Greece as well as in “the East” (for a longer discussion about sexuality during antiquity and how it relates to eunuchs, see my essay about Varys). It is important to note here, that the contemporary and Western view of harems as a space where women were locked up is not necessarily accurate to historical sources. As Llewellyn-Jones points out, harems could often just refer to groups of women, not necessarily places, or something that were out of bounds (note the similarity to the word “haram”). Women in these harems could also often have great influence over court life, in many ways similarly to the noblewomen of ASOIAF. But, in the Western orientalist fantasy, the idea of eunuchs guarding rooms filled with women just waiting to have sex with men, seems to have stuck.

I want to briefly touch on another aspect of this, which is the idea of the sexually (non-)threatening man of colour. Now, throughout history, people from outside of ones own ethnic group have generally been seen as threatening (I’m not even gonna provide a source for that). In the contemporary Global North, this figure of the dangerous Other is often seen specifically as the non-western person (Ahmed 2004). Specifically in contemporary US (as well as historical US of course), one of the forms this takes is the racist idea of the dangerous black man. In contemporary America (and across the world), one of the ways this becomes clear is of course in the racist killings of black people (so I hope you all have supported the Black Lives Matter movement in whatever way you can!). Another way is, as black feminist and scholar bell hooks has pointed out, the way black masculinity is portrayed in movies. The good black man, hooks writes, “not only accepts his subordinate status, he testifies on behalf of and exults in white male superiority. (…) [this] character shows no romantic interest in the white female hero. He is merely protecting.” (ibid, 108). Now, I am NOT saying that this the exact same as with the Unsullied. For one, the fictional space of Slaver’s Bay is not the exact same as the real-life United States (even if there are a lot of parallels between Slaver’s Bay and Reconstruction, as for instance Steven Attewell has pointed out) And Dany actively tries to change oppressive power structures. But I find it interesting some of Daenerys’ most loyal fighting forces, who is very clearly Eastern coded (even if they have different ethnicities) are described as completely incapable of being a sexual threat to her. This can be compared to for instance the Dothraki, who are constantly connected to rape and (sexual) violence. As others have noted, the way that the Dothraki are described often invoke Orientalist imagines of the ‘Other’ as sexually deprived, and dangerous (Carroll 2018, 121) While Dany have some loyal Dothraki followers who respect her as a khaleesi, as soon as she interacts with one that is not from her khalasar, she thinks that this person might rape her (i.e. A Dance with Dragons, Daenerys X). Now, one could argue that this doesn’t have to do as much with race/ethnicity as just the fact that most characters in ASOIAF seems to assume that all men are potential rapists. But the contrast between these Eastern men (the Dothraki and the Unsullied), and how they are portrayed, is interesting. The Dothraki are sexual, violent, and a threat to Dany and other women. The Unsullied are not sexual, and while they are violent, they are not a threat specifically to women. They’re just a weapon, controlled by others.

So, in conclusion, gelding in ASOIAF seemingly takes place as a punishment for rape, and as a way to prevent rape. Both of these practices seem to assume two things; firstly, that being gelded works to prevent rape, and secondly, that this is the only (or at least the most effective) way to control male sexuality. The validity of both of these things can be questioned. For one, I would like to believe that it would be possible for men to not rape people without their genitalia being cut off. But also, genitalia are not necessarily needed for sex or sexual violence. People can get creative. The last point that I want to address here is whether this argument about masculinity and sexuality (and race/ethnicity) is something that GRRM believes, or if it’s just something his characters believes. I honestly don’t know. As Shiloh Carroll has pointed out (2018, 56), GRRM sometimes seemingly makes deliberate points about how medieval society wasn’t just filled with chivalry, but also (sexual) violence. Does that mean he believes that male sexuality is uncontrollable? Probably not. But since he tries to get the point across about the darker side of medieval society, and probably also pulls on historical ideas of geldings and eunuchs, it might come off like that. This is especially unfortunate, in my opinion, when it also plays into racialized tropes about the ethnic Other’s violent sexuality, that must be controlled.

References

Ahmed, Sara. 2004. “On Collective Feelings, or the Impressions Left by Others”, Theory, Culture and Society, 20(1):25-42.

Attewell, Steven. 2015. “A Laboratory of Politics Part VI”, Tower of the Hand. January 15, 2015. https://towerofthehand.com/blog/2015/02/01-laboratory-of-politics-part-vi/noscript.html

Bullough, Vern L. 2002. “Eunuchs in History and Society”, in Eunuchs in antiquity and beyond, edited by Tougher, Shaun, 1-17. Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales.

Carroll, Shiloh. 2018. Medievalism in A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer.

Harrison, Mia. 2018. “Power and Punishment in Game of Thrones.” In The Image of Disability: Essays on Media Representation, edited by JL Schatz & Amber E. George, 28-43. McFarland & Company: Jefferson.

hooks, bell. 1996/2009. Reel to Real: Race, Class, and Sex at the Movies. New York: Routledge.

Llewellyn-Jones, Lloyd. 2002. “Eunuchs and the royal harem in Achaemenid Persia (559-331 BC)”, in Eunuchs in antiquity and beyond, edited by Tougher, Shaun, 19-50. Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales.

Martin, George RR. 2011a. A Storm of Swords 2: Blood and Gold. Harper Voyager: London.

Martin, George RR. 2011b. A Feast for Crows. Bentam Books: New York.

Martin, George RR. 2012. A Dance with Dragons. Harper Voyager: London.

#tw: rape #tw: violence #tw: sexism #tw:racism #asoiaf

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chaoticspacefam · 4 years

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Six Sentence Sunday

little something for Six Sentence Sunday challenge from @ao3commentoftheday shhh I’m like 5 mins over in the UK because I had to do the text formatting it counts

I also went one sentence over but I couldn’t help it, I wanted that last line in there too it’s my fav part of my fav part ;)

I’ve not had the focus to do much to carry on Creeping Shadows lately (but I will soon, promise!) but I did decide that I will probably tell Ni’kasi’s part of the story as a series of one-shots grouped together, cause those are “easier” for me to write when I desperately want to write something but don’t want to spend hours on end doing it, so have my favourite part of some of the drabbles I’ve been writing for that so far. I want to get a little further in Creeping Shadows before I start posting another side-story, but maybe I will soon

TW for mention of (but no graphic descriptions): scars, implied past murder/violence

She was nothing like any Sith he had ever heard of, he knows what she is, and yet there is something about Ni’kasi that seems starkly different to any Pureblood he’s read about in the journals (sparse as they are) or seen in the holomovies. Perhaps it’s her voice that’s strange, clearly Imperial, but thickly accented with some sort of dialect he can’t really place no matter how hard he thinks about it.

Or perhaps it’s how she carries herself with all the poise and dignity of a karkin’ noblewoman, not a former slave. But he knows what he sees when his gaze is drawn to the jagged scars on the back of her neck - most anyone who fought for the Republic has seen the marks those slave collars leave when they’re pulled away. While they’re idling through space on the way back to her Master on Dromund Kaas, he finally cracked and, against his better judgement, asked her what had happened to land her in that position.

The Pureblood turned, her eyes, like pools of molten lava, skewering him with equal parts warning and curiosity as she arched one of the odd, spiky appendages attached to her brow and answered simply.

“I killed a man. He hurt my sister, so I killed him.”

Andronikos isn’t quite sure what’s worse: the almost flippant tone she uses when she makes the statement, the look in her eyes, or the fact that he is almost completely positive that she’s lying.

#swtor #star wars: the old republic #fanfic preview #andronikos revel #swtor oc: ni'kasi ahaszaai #sith inquisitor #sorry andronikos #you haven't got enough influence to unlock the Tragic Backstory(tm) yet #😬#sith inquisitor crew #ni'kasi/andronikos #androni'kasi #elven's writing sneak peeks

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loudgothbf · 4 years

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Hibiki had stayed with Mashi, consistently ignoring his prompts to work on his “statement.” It seemed like it should be easy-- after all, it wasn’t as if he’d forgotten any details, though he wished he could. He relived them over and over, so... yeah, they weren’t going anywhere.

It was just the idea of writing it down. As if that would make it more real. It’s not as if Yuta wasn’t on trial-- that should’ve made it real, shouldn’t it have? But Hibiki hadn’t told anyone the full story, at least not so much of it. He could say that Yuta kept him for ten days, and it was pretty obvious what happened in the meantime. But that wouldn’t be enough now, and the idea of admitting that to himself was sickening. Almost as sickening as the thought of saying it out loud.

Still, after three hours of sitting over notebook paper with a pencil, he managed to craft the most terrifying horror story he’d ever read-- and, at the very least, it made Mashi’s jaw drop. Of course, because it was real.

(TW for kidnapping, implied sexual assault, physical assault, abuse, mentions of CSA, etc. Transcript below images.)

(TRANSCRIPT: My side of the story

Yuta and I started dating when I was very young. He was my first boyfriend, and three years older than me. I was vulnerable, and he knew that. I didn't have family of friends, aside from my foster family, and he was a popular, attractive upperclassman. For someone who was also extremely impulsive and, thanks to the accident that killed my parents, sexually curious, he was the perfect option. I didn't know what a healthy relationship looked like, so I didn't know when it went sour. He was always extremely controlling, and purposefully humiliated me and used me as a prop to improve his social standing. I was insecure and inexperienced, and ended up relying on him for guidance, which made his lies that much easier for me to believe. I didn't have anything to compare them to. He later used my disappearance to bolster his resume, so he'd look trustworthy, caring, and empathetic, when in fact it was his manipulation that made me an easy target for my abductor.

After I escaped captivity, I wanted to reconnect with anyone I could find, but the Tragedy made that difficult. I didn't know who survived and who didn't, or who changed identities to protect themselves from the repercussions associated with their past actions. Yuta was one of the people I found. I wanted a familiar face, and was willing to ignore what happened between us in the past in order to feel like I wasn't alone. However, his old habits cropped up almost immediately, with him insulting my appearance, belittling me to nearly everyone we talked to, and trying to influence my relationships with new people I was meeting at the time. This culminated in him inviting me on a weekend trip, during which time he cut off my access to food, and locked me out of the cabin overnight. It was by luck and the help of my now ex-boyfriend that I survived. I believe it was an intentional attempt on my life, but even if it had simply been a case of gross negligence and anger, the end result would have been the same. After this, I tried to stop all contact with him, though he would still send me letters sometimes, and even stopped by my apartment. It wasn't until later that things escalated further.

Hiro went on a business trip, leaving me alone in the apartment. After a few weeks, he stopped responding to my text messages and calls, so I attempted to seek help from the local police, who did not turn up any leads. I filed a missing person's report and didn't hear anything back. In my desperation, I turned to Yuta, because I knew he and my former classmate, Riku, were in a serious relationship. Riku is the police commissioner, so I thought he may be able to bring attention to the case on my behalf, in exchange for my attendance at their wedding.

I agreed to meet Yuta in a public place: a cafe near my apartment, so I wouldn't have to walk very far, which would eliminate some of the danger. I knew it was dangerous, but in my desperation, I trusted him to help me. As I was approaching the coffee shop, I saw him at his car. He motioned for me to come to him, and I assumed he needed my help carrying something into the shop. He then shoved me into the trunk and slammed it closed, initially on my fingers, which I later realized were broken. I hit my head on the roof of it while I was getting pushed in, so I was even more disoriented. I got a call from someone while I was in the trunk, but was too distraught and confused to give them much, information, and I only vaguely remember the call at all. Yuta took the phone from me and threw it out of the car. Also, I have a fear of small spaces, so during the trip, I was hyperventilating. I passed out after about ten or fifteen minutes, and when I woke up my clothes had been taken from me, and I was chained by the neck to the wall in a dark concrete room. There were no lights, and I couldn't see anything. Yuta came down after a few hours and gave me some food, then gave me a "tour" of what he called my new home, and ran down a list of rules for me to follow. I had to memorize them or I'd be punished. The rules were that when he came to see me, I must always stand at attention with my hands behind my back; I was not allowed to say no to him or resist him, and always had to thank him; I wasn't allowed to use his name, only call him "Master"; and I wasn't allowed to respond to my name, only to "slave" and other degrading nicknames. He kept me chained to the wall with my hands bound by rope. I slept on a dog bed with a single blanket, I went to the bathroom in a bucket, and I bathed under a spicket over a drain. I was not allowed clothes, and I only got food and water when he paid me his daily visit. Sometimes he'd come only once a day, while other times he'd come a few times, and usually he'd stay for a few hours. During that time, he'd usually start by tying me up with rope or binding me with handcuffs or tape. He'd then spend a while hitting me with various items, mainly whips, belts, wooden canes, and paddles. Then he'd use me to pleasure himself. After he was done, he would sit in the basement for a while and read, or work on paperwork, making me stay in the position he'd tied me in. He'd usually go for round two with a little less attention on inflicting pain, and more just gratifying himself. The whole time he'd take pictures at various intervals, usually to document my injuries or to keep pictures of me in degrading positions and situations. He'd wipe down his items while I attempted to clean myself under the spicket, and when he was done, he would leave, turning off the lights whether I'd finished bathing or not. It was dark any time he wasn't in the basement, and it was only after a few days that he gave me a dim lamp. I was there for ten days. I managed to escape by using the sharp part of the metal base of the chain to cut my hands free, and then breaking the lamp and using the two conductor rods to pry open the lock on my collar. I then waited for him to come down the stairs, and fought him off using some of the weapons he's used on me. I took the blanket from my "bed" and went into his house to find my clothes. I found them buried in the back of his closet next to a safe. I'd seen no trace of the pictures he'd taken of me, so I attempted to open it, using his birthday as the passcode, and found boxes of pictures of me and other people in various compromising positions and situations. I took what I could carry, shoved my clothes into a plastic bag because I was too injured to put them on, and walked to the police station, where I handed the boxes over and walked home. They contacted me later for a statement, and filed the charges against Yuta without my prompting, aside from the prompting that came with handing them boxes of child porn.

END TRANSCRIPT)

#event: monster #((please send asks about this!))#((and yes you can be mean about it))

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auntynationalsblog · 4 years

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5 Netflix Films for the Week, set before the 21st c.

How’s quarantine going? Yeah, same here. But it’s Monday after all, and you still have over 150 hours to kill if you’re dealing with this quarantine via a week-by-week approach. I can help you kill around 8%, 12 of those hours. Here are five must-watch films set before the twenty-first century. Don’t watch them all at once, that’s lame.

No spoilers.

5. The Revenant (1823)

Main Cast: Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hardy

“Revenge is in the Creator's hands.”

Many of you will know of this film as the one which finally gave LDC his first Oscar, for Best Actor, at the 88th Academy Awards. Unfortunately, you would have stopped at that information and not bothered to watch the film. Released in 2015, the film is based on a novel of the same name. The definition of ‘Revenant’ is “a person who has returned, especially supposedly from the dead.” The story-line does not deviate from the title, as an American frontiersman named Hugh Glass is engulfed in a bear attack and is left for dead by his hunting crew. But he survives. And he’s fucking pissed. The novel is called The Revenant: A Novel of Revenge, and yeah, the film is pretty vengeful too. Interestingly, even though Hugh Glass was indeed a real person, and it is mostly believed that the film and novel are based on a story, there exist no writings from the man himself to verify the description of his story. His story was first published in a Philadelphia literary journal known as The Port Folio. Some say that it is no more than a legendary tale. Nevertheless, a brilliant film, don’t miss out.

4. Before Sunrise (1994)

Only Cast (LOL): Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy

“If there's any kind of magic in this world…it must be in the attempt of understanding someone.”

If you’re a fan of love stories/romantic films, and if you haven’t come across the Before Trilogy, I don’t know what kind of love stories you watch. Why is this film unique? In technical terms, it’s minimalist. In simple words, there’s no real plot. There’s no action or drama or horror. These two just walk and talk. Then they talk some more while walking, and when they’ve nothing to talk about, they just walk quietly. So why watch the film? For starters, it’s very peaceful and relaxing, unlike The Revenant, which is fucking intense. Secondly, the conversations in the film constitute some of the best dialogue-exchanges in the history of cinema. Their characters are very carefully crafted, as their varying perspectives on living and loving bring out some deep AF points throughout the film. It is a slow film no doubt, but I promise you that the blandness is worth it, and the ending is too nice. Don’t get bored, give the film some time and thank me later.

3. Django Unchained (1858)

Main Cast: Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz, and Leonardo DiCaprio

“Sold! To the man with the exceptional beard and his unexceptional nigga!”

Django Unchained is Tarantino’s highest-grossing film ever, for good reason. Although it has been criticized for historical inaccuracies, violence, and unprecedented high use of the N-word, Tarantino delivered one of the most dramatic and entertaining films from the era of plantation slavery. While the image above portrays Foxx, a slave, and LDC, a rich plantation owner, the highlight of the film was the German dentist-turned-bounty hunter, Dr. King Schultz, played by Christoph Waltz. Waltz’s performance is impeccable, only matched by his portrayal of Standartenführer Hans Landa in Inglourious Basterds (also directed by Tarantino). While the film starts off with Dr. Schultz hunting for his bounties, it eventually goes on to become a rescue mission, where Django and Schultz look for the former’s estranged wife, Broomhilda von Shaft. TW; extreme cursing and racism. But the film is a work of art. In fact, Jamie Foxx has revealed that LDC was pretty uncomfortable on the set, as his character had to use extremely racial slurs. But boy, he pulled off that role brilliantly.

2. Zodiac (1969 - 1980s)

Main Cast: Jake Gyllenhaal, Mark Ruffalo, and Robert Downey Jr.

“I wanna report a double murder. If you go one mile east on Columbus Parkway, to a public park, you'll find kids in a brown car. They were shot with a 9mm Luger. I also killed those kids last year. Goodbye.”

What happens when Iron Man, Hulk and Mysterio gang-up against one of America’s most notorious serial-killers? For now, I can only tell you that it was a pretty uneven contest. Based on a true story, this film depicts the useless San Francisco Police Department’s hunt for the Zodiac Killer, led by Dave Toschi (Ruffalo), and aided by political cartoonist Robert Graysmith (Gyllenhaal) and crime reporter Paul Avery (Downey). In case you’re wondering if they’re fictional characters, they’re not. They became pretty famous while the Zodiac Killer was running havoc, and have multiple articles and Wikipedia pages dedicated to all three of them. The Zodiac Killer remains unidentified by the way, and the cases are still officially open. Why watch the film then? Because the mysteriousness of it will blow your mind. Note that the film is directed by David Fincher, the same guy who directed Seven, Fight Club, Gone Girl and Mindhunter, among many other murder mysteries and thrillers. Don’t be surprised if you spend the rest of the day investigating the case yourself, happens to the best of us.

Consolation Prize: The Irishman (1950s - 1970s)

Main (legendary) Cast: Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, and Joe Pesci

“I work hard for them when I ain't stealing from them.”

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking how can a film with a cast of three actors who redefined cinema in the late twentieth century earn only a consolation prize on this list? The truth is, that such crime/mafia/gangster films, no matter how legendary the cast is, only appeal to a particular audience. A lot of film buffs who truly appreciate cinema and actors are simply not enticed by this genre, which is okay. Nevertheless, this film, which spans over 200 minutes, is one of Martin Scorsese’s best works, along with other mob movies like Goodfellas and The Departed. Based on a true story, it follows the adventures of ordinary truck driver-turned-assassin Frank ‘Irishman’ Sheeran (De Niro), who gets mixed up in some extraordinary business with mobster Russell Bufalino (Pesci), his Pennsylvania crime family and American labor union leader Jimmy Hoffa (Pacino). The punchline of the film is “I heard you paint houses” - a mob code implying: I heard you murder people for money, the paint being the symbol of the blood that splatters when bullets are riddled into the target. Typical Scorsese, mesmerizing direction. The punchline is also the name of the novel the film is based on, in case you love reading about organized crime.

1. Dallas Buyers Club (1985)

Main Cast: Matthew McConaughey, Jennifer Garner and Jared Leto

“Sometimes, I feel I'm fighting for a life that I just ain't got the time to live. I want it all to mean something.”

On the day of the 86th Academy Awards, Facebook and Twitter erupted in outrage. LDC had not been awarded the Oscar for Best Actor for his portrayal of Jordan Belfort in The Wolf of Wall Street, also known as The Film You Must Never Watch With Your Family. I merely asked every hot-tempered schmucks who posted that LDC had been snubbed, “Have you watched Dallas Buyers Club?” Either the answer was no, or the answer never came. The point being, Dallas Buyers Club is one of the best films ever made. Based on the true story of Ron Woodroof, a once homophobic, junkie cowboy diagnosed with AIDS, co-starring Jared Leto (who won best supporting actor) as Rayon, a fictional trans-woman with HIV, this film tells us an extraordinary tale of friendship, hope and empathy. When Ron discovers that the Federal Drug Administration has been systematically banning cheap drugs that can improve the condition of existing HIV-AIDS patients, he opens a ‘buyers club’, that enabled sick people to make drug purchases at lower prices. Things get more interesting with the role of Dr. Eve Saks, an AIDS doctor, who recognizes the villainous role of the state, but wants to remain within the ambit of the law. Ron’s character development might be the highlight of the film, as he transforms from a selfish, homophobic asshole to a dying man waging war against the American government, fighting for the healthcare of the underprivileged. Very few equally magnificent films have come out post Dallas Buyers Club. Don’t miss out.

So that’s it folks. Make good use of your quarantine by immersing yourself in good quality cinema. I’ll come up with some more suggestions on films and TV shows soon enough. Till then, Netflix and Don’t Chill.

#netflix

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time-to-write-and-suffer · 5 years

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Ok so strap yourselves in because it’s Eff’s Wacky Dreams time!

Or more like Eff’s Weird Nightmares time.

Tw for everything.

I woke up sort of sleep-deprived from this one which is why I’m writing it down. Generally I tend to forget nightmares pretty quickly once I’ve woken up and this one was so weird it’s still stuck to my brain like a nasty sludge.

Basically, it began with me stumbling upon a horror film called “Don’t Lie To Me”, which sounds pretty spooky, huh folks? On the cover was the main villain/character, who was a The Nun-looking motherfucker. The film was set in Victorian England and/or World War I, both, because dream, and the premise was that this doctor was trying to study the physical signs/effects of lying on the human body. The trailer showed the doctor encouraging people to lie to her, which is ... sort of the very opposite of what the title implies, but go off. Anyway, the trailer implied that the first few patients started out pretty ok, but soon the doctor went to further and more extreme “experiments”, and she also went completely bonkers when people lied to her, now that she knew the “signs” of lying.

Now, despite her methods, she apparently did remarkable shit for the medical field, and doctors around the world were eating up her studies and raving about them to each other (”I haven’t gotten to the tongue part yet but I hear it’s groundbreaking!”), which is why nobody actually came to help her victims when that shit started going public. Idk if this is Commentary.

Also, the doctor had six arms. Three on each side. She didn’t in the beginning? In fact, she was a man in the beginning, but I’ll get there.

Anyway, remember how this was a movie I saw? I had a sneaking suspicion even within the dream that I’d have to watch it even though the trailer disturbed me, so I switched to some other channels.

Mostly it was a bunch of kids’ programs, but like ... one of the first channels I switched to had one child crucified on some antlers, talking casually to another child. The other channels had a bunch of different angles of a plane exploding.

Apparently this disturbed me so much I had to go back to the doctor shit.

Except now I wasn’t just watching this movie, I was in it as the “protagonist”, who was referred to as the “slave” of the doctor and also the one who wrote down this True Historical Event. He was also one of the first experiments of the doctor and the movie framed them as “friends”, which I thought was yikes, but then I saw the movie had been written by the “slave” and thought ok maybe this would show the doctor’s true colors (as if the fucking murder and 6 arms wielding giant axes wasn’t enough I guess). Except then I found out the doctor had approved this memoir and they’d worked on the movie together.

Sooo yeah.

Anyway, the doctor was apparently a man in the beginning, and thank you brain for providing me with this “crazy, scary trans” narrative. The doctor’s office even resembled a doctor’s office at some point, until her first assistant (aka slave, apparently) died from her torturing him so bad. (That former assistant had no head and a chest made of glass. It was sort of implied the lack of head was the reason he was dead, and the glass chest was ... natural?) And the protagonist of the film was chosen as her next test subject. The movie would frame this master/slave relationship as wholesome because the slave was strong enough to endure her tests and didn’t “betray” her or die.

Yikes.

Anyway, when the doctor agreed to torture her former assistant-turned-slave with touched enthusiasm, I finally decided this was a nightmare and woke myself up.

I can’t tell what’s more problematic, this, or the dream the night before where the heroes were a female Indiana Jones/Nathan Drake who stole precious artifacts from marginalized cultures and her boy toy, fighting a Generic Evil African Warlord who wanted to bring on the apocalypse by summoning an eldritch god. Except the eldritch god turned out to be the thief, who turned into the god and started murdering people left and right once she and her boy toy were blown to bits by the antagonist.

Fun fact: I must’ve realized this was wildly racist, because both the woman and her man went from generic whites to slightly less generic ambiguous browns.

Problem solved?

Anyway yikes @ my brain, you’re making me think I might be evil deep down inside.

#eff's wacky dreams

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syrvses-blog · 7 years

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❝ ┅ THIS GOT LONG. | QUESTIONNAIRE. |

everything you could ever want to know about syrus is under the cut.

death tw, smoking tw, alochol mention

❝ ┅ BASICS.

Full name: seung-jun han

Any nicknames?: syrus (please call him that), hades

Age: 27 (holla @ yo ridiculously young mob boss)

Birthday/Zodiac sign: january 7 // capricorn

Height: 6′2

Any tattoos, piercings?: no piercings, but he does have a few tattoos. the first and most prominent one reads “you will always be fond of me. i represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to admit” located on his right rib cage. this was done both because he is a nerd for classical literature and because the quote reminds him of his father, whom he never wants to become. he also has ( these ) two, in honor of cronus (eye) and his deceased best friend (rose), who died in a similar time span.

❝ ┅ FAVORITES.

Sound: yasmin’s voice…jk jk the small sounds that echo against the walls of a silent space. a clock ticking, methodical and orderly. the scribbling of a wooden pencil, curious and erratic. the turning of a novel’s page and the certain sense of completion, of progress that comes with it. the muffled bass of club nyra hammering below his feet. the various beats of life in the dead of stillness that keeps him on task, keeps him enthralled in his work.

Color: surprise, surprise, black. but, likewise – white. in fact, his flat above club nyra is nearly completely white with tiny pops of color, such as that in the green apples that sit on the marble counters of the kitchen area. even more surprising, he’s also rather fond of warm neutrals, such as those found on his blog. in complete contrast to his flat, his actual apartment that can be found in ever changing locations across nyc is very warm, very home-y, and washed in those soft oranges and browns.

Person: may he rest in peace, cronus. though his friend found deceased years ago does come in as a close second, no one has altered his life more than harvey johnson. the first father figure in his life to ever truly love him as son, to ever truly look at him and not see a tool or a potential weapon, but as a human being. he has fought for years to preserve the work cronus has done to promote the olympians, and he will continue to work tirelessly for the man who proved to him not all is bad in the world syrus was raised in.

Memory: for his twelfth birthday, his father took him and his now deceased friend to the metropolitan museum of art. whenever the story was shared (by his friend more so than syrus, who rarely speaks of his past), his friend would always claim that the museum “broke” syrus, who had always been a more reserved, professional person. this is because in those few hours, syrus was, for one of the few times in his life, a kid. having always been a nerd and especially a nerd for things that are old, being surrounded by so much history and being able to see the influences of the history he read on the artwork made him genuinely giddy. though his friend and father certainly weren’t as enthused as he was, they entertained him by allowing him to drag them around as he rattled on about certain eras and certain paintings and possible influences. he has a particular memory of a tour guide with long, dark hair and a friendly voice joking to her clients that they should simply follow him around instead of her as their group passed him by. this whole ordeal was a complete surprise to him, seeing as he thought his father was simply taking him and his friend out to breakfast, and though he usually isn’t a fan of surprises, this one was undoubtedly appreciated.

Place: he has three. the first is the metropolitan museum of art for the reasons described earlier. the second is the new york public library. it is no secret or shock that syrus is obsessed with books and with reading, so a place stocked with millions of books is a dream come true for the man. every single time he walks in he has a moment similar to the one in beauty and the beast when the beast guides belle into the library. of his few complaints about being a mob boss, not being able to read more is definitely one of them. continuing forward, his third and final favorite place is club nyra, minutes before it opens. he has a circular couch in corner raised up a few inches that he usually does business with other club owners in, and occasionally he’ll slide into the white leather seats with some paperwork for the club before the doors allow the mass of people to flow in. in his seat in the intersection, he can view the bartender wiping down the bar in the middle back of the club one final time and the dj readying the track list in the other far end. with the dancers stretching and julian speaking to one of the various workers and the faint smell of vanilla (proven to make people happier) in the air, it truly is a priceless scene. once the doors open at 11 pm sharp, the setting isn’t ruined by the influx of people. instead, it is enhanced, for seeing the success of the club he rebuilt essentially on his own brings him a joy little else can bring.

Vice: oh, syrus and his nicotine. he knows what it’s doing to his body and he knows that he’ll probably pass due to lung cancer if he lives long enough to develop it, but the addiction doesn’t seem to care. he doesn’t drink, primarily because he genuinely doesn’t like alcohol aside from a few of the club nyra speciality drinks and he will sip on wine to seem professional. likewise, he doesn’t dabble in any other drugs, nor is he a slave to sex. his only physical vice, truly, is the packet of cigarettes in his suit jacket’s pocket. to steal madi’s (current medusa/octavia) idea of my favorite vice for syrus, since nicotine is certainly his favorite vice, i have to admit–i love how unfeeling and unempathetic syrus is in times of betrayal or when people fail to meet his expectations of perfection. in my head he truly is horrifying when in “scary syrus” mode. if a character is having a meeting with syrus and they know they’ve disappointed him, they should be prepared for the absolute coldest aura surrounding a merciless man who won’t accept excuses, regardless of how valid they are. this is my favorite vice primarily because it’s so much fun to write and fits how i originally conceived syrus to be all the time (like honestly i was going to originally use these gifs a lot tbh). but, then he sort of turned into a very formal, very intelligent CEO with a Nerd Dad part tucked under all that professionalism and distance. i still love him with all my life, but there is something so satisfying about writing syrus when he is in his pique of ruthlessness.

❝ ┅ HAVE THEY EVER...

Been in love?: he has never been in love, nope! nor does he ever see himself being in love or getting married. to revive an old meme, my thoughts and feelings towards this are ( x ).

Done drugs?: his entire list of drug use starts and ends with his cigarettes.

Killed someone?: yes, of course. he is a mob boss, after all. he has killed 17 people and could tell you the names of all of them. names are actually quite important to syrus, seeing as he’s unusually terrible with them unless he has a reason to remember them. when he was younger, part of his training with his father was memorizing the names of everyone in the olympians. unfortunately, because syrus’ mother disappeared when he was two and he didn’t know the cause of her disappearance was something that would be so important to his beliefs until 18 years later, he never learned her name and doesn’t know it now. he also has no real way to learn her name, being that he has no contact with his family in korea and little access to the conventional methods of finding her name.

Betrayed someone’s trust?: aside from the whole “splitting from old olympus,” never.

Had their heart broken?: with the death of cronus and his friend, yes. but, in the implied sense of via the loss (whether it be through break up or through some other method) of a significant other, nope.

Lost someone?: far too many people.

❝ ┅ DO THEY...

Have any pets?: ah yes, the infamous dog megara (but her friends call her “meg”) – a border collie that he loves more than life itself. he adopted the dog when meg was quite young, probably around 1-2 years old, after his father passed away seven years ago. he absolutely adores and would happily be with her over most human beings.

Have a family they still talk to?: they’re all dead or chillin’ out in korea, so nah! the only family he would want to talk to even would be his mother, but being that she died when he was two, it would be sort of a difficult situation without a medium. perhaps he would also enjoy speaking to his extended family, seeing as he doesn’t know the name of his mother and would rather enjoy having that knowledge.

Have a best friend?: that’s…iffy territory? like, he trusts julian/dionysus quite a bit because he does manage club nyra but that’s definitely a very father/son relationship despite syrus being the younger of the two. likewise, he’s rather close with octavia/medusa and felicia/cerberus, though the former is certainly more of a working relationship and he’s sleeping with the latter despite also having a working relationship. continuing, he’s also decent friends with kit/icarus, though it’s more of an unconventional friendship. friends are quite difficult for him with his position and personality, but best friends are particularly hard to come by since that implies a certain level of trust that syrus hasn’t had with anyone since that friend.

Want to get married and/or have kids?: as mentioned earlier, syrus, at this very moment, never sees himself getting married. but, if he did find the right person (insert finger guns), he’d happily marry. he simply would never predict this for himself since he has issues with trusting people completely due to being ridiculously independent/worried about endangering those he’s close to. as for kids? oh god, though syrus is really just Dad somewhere under all that formal business talk, he is absolutely horrible with children. perhaps it is because he doesn’t quite know how to communicate with people who do not understand his language. but, i’m sure if (when) he does marry, he’ll be so enraptured with the person he’s with, he’d be more than glad to have children with them.

Want to leave?: if this question was posed not even ten years ago, syrus would have most certainly confirmed that he did want to leave and was planning on opening his own business in a place as far away as korea. but, being that he now has club nyra and a duty to protect cronus’ legacy from crumbling under the wrong hands, he could never picture himself leaving. his sense of duty to cronus and to the people who depend on him is far too strong for him to allow himself to fade away. he simply must protect his people, must protect the few things in life that keep him from falling into a state of complete roboticism.

❝ ┅ THIS OR THAT?

Phone call or text? face to face conversation? yes? no? anyways, though he sees the appeal and necessity of both with texts doing well for quick updates, organizing plans, and stealth operations, he prefers to call. when in “scary syrus” mode, as i like to call it, he can be rather terse. but, with the people he actually would like to call for reasons other than business, he can become very loquacious and quite the storyteller. furthermore, he enjoys hearing people’s voices when they speak, it adds on a sense of reality to the conversation.

Wealth or loyalty? regardless of the fact that syrus is a wealthy man himself and does enjoy the comfort of wealth, at the end of the day, he’d take loyalty over wealth without second thought. he may be seen as the ultimate traitor to old olympus, but his loyalty to cronus and to the people who follow him under new olympus spans far beyond the average human and he values loyalty from others just the same. though all human life is irreplaceable to syrus, those that prove themselves loyal to a strong cause and prepared to meet the expectations required to further that cause are especially valued.

Love or lust? n…either? syrus doesn’t have feelings–only a strong moral compass. joking, joking mostly. on a serious note, though he remains largely unaware of the benefits of love and how much he would love being in love at the moment, once he does get a hold of himself – love, all the way. lust is nice and he certainly won’t complain about it, but ultimately he would much prefer to be in love than in lust. wow i’m making him sound so soft those of y’all who don’t know syrus are going to be So Surprised when you interact with him and He’s So Not Soft.

5 Friends or 100 Acquaintances? 100 acquaintances, or “contacts,” as syrus would refer to them as. 100 people for him to reach out to to help advertise a new night at club nyra or to potentially persuade into doing something for the furthering of new olympus. in syrus’ mind, friends either leave with too much information or die and shake him out of his phlegmatic state. but, if he has 100 loyal acquaintances who know him to be trustworthy, then he’s set.

Summer or winter? winter!! wow, hades, you’re so surprising. albeit that summer is arguably a more profitable time for club nyra, syrus without a doubt prefers winter. this may be because i don’t think he owns a short sleeved shirt and his typical attire is a full on suit, or it may be because he runs both of his spaces at a below average temperature and enjoys it completely. winter is the time of year when the temperature outside matches the temperature of his homes, if not is far colder (which may be better).

❝ ┅ OTHERS.

Wanted plots/connections:

everyone: comes to new olympus k bye

new olympus: i’d love to plot with how and why the other character came to new olympus. what did syrus offer, whether it be an actual offer such as safety or just what made him seem better over zeus? did they have a past together or something? also, syrus makes a very good trainer if you need someone to help your character learn to punch someone.

old olympus: syrus grew up in the mob, so if your character has been in the olympians for a while, then chances are they knew each other. did they work together? did they get along/not get along? was syrus just some mystical figure in the background?

titans: this is a tad harder being that the titans were in germany for so long. but, if they’re a more recent titan addition, i’d love to have some like tension-y thing with syrus if they were active members of the olympians. he’d feel a little miffed that they chose to join the titans but skipped out on new olympus.

neutral: someone could be his neighbor at wherever his apartment is now! furthermore, if they are ex-olympians, we can develop a past from there. anything with club nyra could work out too!! whether it be someone was hitting on your character drunk and syrus kicked them out or they’re just regulars at club nyra.

anyone: my son adopts your child because syrus needs a million fake kids. also possible is to play off of syrus’ dad side where syrus finds your character drunk/hurt/etc and takes care of them. alternatively, we could have our characters start a book club.

#olympustalk #originally my graphic was gonna be so extra #but then i decided to be hip and trendy and with the kids #❝ ┅ ɪ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴᴠɪɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴏʀ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ | ᴇᴅɪᴛs. |#*#i guess we are tagging it too ??#eh the more in the talk tag the merrier

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