#I cannot wait to spend the next four days thinking deeply about history and how it led us to our current political climate!!

[osawatomiebrown]

Tonight is Civil War Roadtrip Eve. I’m so excited :)

[dolce-peach]

Loki x reader, reader is on the younger side (but not really) and has a large extended family who one day begged her to babysit three little nephews at the tower and Loki has to help too. Just parental Loki Fluff pls

domestic bliss

pairing: loki x reader

warnings: fluff, soft loki

a/n: i absolutely cannot 🥺 also my non-creative mind decided to name the lil ones peter, harry, and gwen 😅😂 and i will say this as many times as i can: loki deserves the whole world 🥺🥺🥺❤️ hope you guys like it!

permanent taglist: @kaitlynmalikisnotonfire​ @just-another-loki-fanblog​

** TO MAKE A REQUEST -- please check the status in my bio **

masterlist

----

“Who is the best baby in the whole wide world?”

Your baby nephew Peter squealed in your arms as you held him up, hoisting him higher until he left your hands for a moment.  He giggled as you caught him again, his cheeks rosy.

“But Auntie Y/N!  What about me?” your other nephew Harry whined, hugging your leg.

“I’m Auntie Y/N’s favorite!” exclaimed your niece, Gwen.  “Everyone knows that!”

You laughed as you bent down, embracing them.  “I love you all, okay?”

You kissed their cheeks before carrying Peter into the kitchen, where you got his bottle ready.

Your days weren’t usually like this at the Avengers Tower, but when your older sisters had to run on last minute business trips, as the youngest, you couldn’t say no.  Little Peter, Harry, and Gwen had grown to be absolutely irresistible in recent years, so you never minded looking after them anyways.

Peter began whining a bit, sensing his bottle was close to being ready.  He already began reaching for the bottle.

“No, sweetie,” you cooed.  “It’s not ready yet.”

Gwen tugged at your sweats.  “Auntie Y/N, can I have a snack?”

You answered by getting a bowl of sliced peaches out on the table.  Both Harry and Gwen climbed into their seats, reaching for the fruit.

Peter cried a bit more, and you did your best to distract him by making funny faces.  His cries echoed throughout the entire floor.

“Who in the world is making so much noise?” Loki raged as he stormed into the room.  

You sent him an apologetic smile.  “Sorry, my sisters needed someone to watch the kids.”

Loki’s threatening aura faded away, replaced with realization.  “Oh,” he said quietly.  “Forgive me.”

“Uncle Loki!” Gwen cheered.

The god frowned.  “That’s King Loki to you.”

Harry pouted.  “I thought Uncle Thor was the king.”

“That’s --”  Loki sighed.  “Never mind.”

You almost completely forgot about Peter in your arms.  You grabbed the warm bottle and fit the nipple on top before giving it to him.  He grasped on tightly, sucking eagerly.

Out of the corner of your eye, Loki tried peeking over your shoulder to watch as Harry and Gwen were having a conversation about spaceships.

“Isn’t he adorable?” you whispered.

Loki cowered back, coughing.  “I suppose he’s quite...above average.”

You raised an eyebrow.  “Do you not like kids?”

“They’re loud,” he said, eyeing Harry and Gwen.  “They’re much too excited, and they have incredible tantrums.”

“Hm, sounds a lot like you,” you teased.

He walked around the counter.  “What does that mean?”

“Exactly how it sounds,” you laughed.

Loki rolled his eyes as he stood in front of you.  You somehow never ceased to amaze him with how far you could go.

Before he could realize what was going on, you placed Peter in his hands.

His eyes widened with panic.  “Wait, what are you doing?”

You grinned, adjusting his awkward, lanky arms so he held the baby safely.  “Letting the four of you bond while I take a break,” you said.  “I can only be a mom for so long.”

“Parenting is not necessarily a specialty I possess, especially given my family history,” he said.  “Take him back!”

“I’ll be down training with Nat for about an hour,” you said as you playfully nudged his shoulder.  “Call me if you need anything, but he should be ready for a nap after finishing his bottle.  All you have to do is watch him sleep.”  

“Where are you going, Auntie Y/N?” Harry inquired sadly.

You ruffled his hair.  “Just downstairs to train,” you explained.  “Don’t you want to spend time with Uncle Loki?”

Harry looked as though he was going to cry.  “Yeah, but I want you, Auntie Y/N!”

Gwen took his hand.  “It’s okay, Harry.  I’ll take care of you,” she said.  “And Uncle Loki might make something explode again!”

Harry’s eyes lit up, making you smile.

You gave the two one more hug before walking towards the door, sending a wink towards Loki.

He glared at you.  “I have to admit I’m thinking about stabbing you right now.”

“Go ahead,” you said.  “But you’d miss me.”

Loki frowned deeply, opening his mouth to complain once more before you shut the door behind you.

--

You panted, catching your breath as you took gulps of water.  Your body was pretty worn from babysitting the past few days, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

“How are the little rascals?” Natasha asked, sitting down next to you.

You handed her a water bottle and a towel.  “So energetic,” you said.  “They’re good kids.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she laughed.  “Who’s watching them now?”

“Loki.”

Her eyes widened.  “Really?  He was okay with it?”

“Not really, but when is he ever?”

She nodded.  “Hope he doesn’t make the toaster oven explode again.”

You laughed.

After a few more minutes of rest, you decided you were done for the day.  You said bye to Natasha before heading upstairs to the common area.  You were expecting total chaos and mayhem, but when the doors slid open, it was quiet.

“Loki?” you called.  

You carefully walked in, your eyes scanning the room until you spotted them on the couch.

Loki sat sleeping, holding Harry and Gwen on either side while Peter was sound asleep in his lap.  Loki’s lips were slightly agape, making you stifle a laugh.  

You carefully snapped a picture before touching his shoulder.  “Loki.”

He opened his eyes groggily as you helped him up, careful not to wake the kids.  “Y/N?”

“Morning, sleepy-head,” you laughed.  “Have fun while I was gone?”

“Actually,” he began.  “Yes.”

“Good,” you said.  “I think you’d make a great dad.  I think they really like you.”

His eyes glistened.  “You think so?”

“Definitely.”

[saedii-gilwraeth-simp]

Another World - TDC Holidays - Day 11

Do characters I made up give me inspiration? yes

DAY 11

AU: QUEEN-CHATWORTH KIDS

POV: ARSINOE

There was a tension at the dinner table that was normally not present. Usually, her kids were rowdy and full of life, chatting and laughing whenever Billy made a stupid dad joke or when one of them shared a funny story. But tonight, nothing. Arsinoe was concerned with how cautiously silent they were and based on the way that they only interacted with Billy, she had a feeling that it had to do with her. Finally, after the fourth time her daughter shot her an undeterminable look, Arsinoe couldn’t take it anymore. She put her cutlery down and rested her chin on her interlocked fingers, watching them.

“Alright, what have I done?” Her four children looked at her and turned their eyes away. Her and Billy met eyes, frowning. He turned to them.

“Seriously, What’s wrong?” No-one answered. Their eldest son, Arthur, looked up and watched their concerned faces for a beat before speaking.

“Mum, have you ever killed anyone?” He asked, stunning Arsinoe. Her eyebrows furrowed deeply.

“Why on earth would I have ever killed anyone? I spend most of my days tending to chickens and flowers, I’m not exactly the murderous type,” Arsinoe answered him and he took a breath out before nudging his younger triplet, Phillip. Phillip stood and walked to the hall. Arsinoe could see him pull a black book from his school bag.

When he gave her the book, opened to a specific page, she took it hesitantly.

Only to see her face staring back at her, drawn in shocking detail, half covered by the mask her younger sister had stolen from her so many years ago. She began to read the writing surrounding the drawing.

Queen Arsinoe of Fennbirn is the final living queen of what has since been termed ‘the triplet dynasty’. Daughter of Queen Camille and King Consort Philippe, Arsinoe was raised in Wolf Spring as a naturalist, however it was later revealed that she was a poisoner. She is considered by Fennian scholars to be the most prolific user of low magic in the island’s history.

Arsinoe skimmed through the rest of the page until the final paragraph,

Queen Arsinoe now lives in the Mainland Kingdom of Centra with her husband, Fennbirn Foreign Affairs Representative William Chatworth Jr. and their many chickens. Many traditional monarchists still support Queen Arsinoe, however she maintains a close friendship with and is a firm supporter of current Queen Crowned Juilenne. She successfully abdicated on March 4, 0001 AR.

”What about this gives you the impression that I’m a killer?” She asks softly, guilt bubbling in her chest. Her and Billy had agreed a long time ago not to reveal this particular part of their lives, but maybe it was about to be time.

“Well, all the other queens in this book killed their sisters and you were the final queen who was a triplet but we don’t have any aunts on your side, just Aunts Jane and Christine on dad’s side. Ergo, the most likely person to have killed your sisters is you,” Darian clarifies. Arsinoe clenches her jaw slightly and passes the book to Billy.

“I didn’t kill my sisters. One of them killed the other and killed herself later, but I have never killed anyone, at least not on purpose,” her kids look at with wide eyes.

“You’ve killed someone accidentally?” Jules, their youngest, asks. Arsinoe shares a look with her husband, who shrugs. The gesture says that she might as well tell them.

“I accidentally left a poison coated knife on a table. I didn’t mean for two mainlanders to cut cake with it,” her four children sit there, stunned. They look between them and go back to their dinner.

After minutes of eating, finally Arthur seemed to think of something and he looked up at his parents.

“Do we have magic?” Arsinoe stares at her son and then meets eyes with her husband. Her and Billy sigh together.

“Yes. But if I tell you what you have, you cannot try to use your abilities. They don’t work on the mainland and I don’t want you hurting yourselves trying to use them,” she admits to her rapt children, who are somewhere between betrayed offence and excited curiosity. She sighs and points to her daughter first. “Jules, elemental,” she moved to her youngest son, “Philip, oracle,” middle son, “Darian, poisoner, like me,” and finally her eldest, “Arthur, warrior,” his dark eyes lit up and she interrupted him before he could speak, “if you try anything with a weapon in this house, I will ground you for eternity,” his deflates slightly, but still looks excited as chatter erupts from the table.

Billy takes her hand gently as their children discuss this new discovery amongst themselves. When she looks at him, he smiles, his face soft, the wrinkles by his eyes crinkling. Arsinoe smiles back and raises his hand to her lips.

“Ew,” she registers from behind her but she ignores her children, leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to her husbands lips. “eeeeeewwwwww,” she smiles as she pulls away to poke her tongue out at them.

~

“Hey mum, can I talk to you?” She looks up from her rose bush to see Philip standing in front of her awkwardly.

“Of course, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” She pats the patch of grass beside her and he sits, pushing his dark hair off of his forehead. He sits for a long minute as she waits patiently until finally, he draws an envelope from behind his back, passing it to her. The logo on the front reads University of Fennbirn but the envelope is empty.

“I didn’t know you had applied to UoF. I thought you were looking at Bevellet Royal,” she watched Phillip until he finished wringing his hands together and spoke.

“Arthur and Darian sent my application in. I thought you would be mad so I chickened out,” Phillip smiled slightly before turning to look at the chicken coop behind them, where he was being glared at by a hen, “sorry Barb. Anyway, I got into this really amazing course for Law and Politics, but I won’t go if you don’t want me to, if you can’t stand-“ he was cut off by Arsinoe hugging him tight around the shoulders. He hugged her back, burrowing his face in her neck.

“Sweetheart, I will never, ever, ever stop you from following your dreams and I never want you to be afraid of following your heart just because of me, understood? I will support you no matter what,” Phillip breathed out a heavy sigh into her shoulder, relieved. She kissed his dark hair and sat back. “Do you want to help me with the roses?” Her son nods and stands to grab a spare sunhat from the back porch before coming back to kneel next to her.

“Hey mum?” Phillip asks after nearly half an hour of them working in silence. Arsinoe hmms an affirmative. “Women’s rights on Fennbirn are better than they are here. Why did you decide to settle here?” Arsinoe watched him for a while, considering her answer.

“Fennbirn caused me a lot of pain, not just losing my sisters, but everything that came before it. Fennbirn may treat women right, but they sure as hell didn’t treat queens right,” she pauses for a second, “besides, all I ever wanted was a normal life. That just so happened to coincide with the love of my life being a Mainlander.” Phillip nods before hugging her.

“Love you, mum.” Arsinoe smiles and squeezes him slightly.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

TAG LIST: @nataliaarronn​, @poisonerrose​, @alwaysbored005​

[lannisterdaddyissues]

The Last Kingdom High School AU - Chapter One

Hey y’all,,, so I finally decided to make this a thing after like 100 years! Anyone remember this post? It’s a thing now!! All my friends in the discord finally convinced me to share my writings with the world so here it is! This is going to be a multi-chapter fic, I will update it during the summer but I have a job so idk if updates will be regular. Anyway here is chapter one aaah!!

Chapter One

TLK High School AU

Word Count: 4.1k

“Oi! Arseling! Get your sorry arse to the principal’s office, now!” Leofric shouted as he slammed the gymnasium’s phone back onto its receiver. Uhtred’s classmates all turned to stare at him with round eyes, like a bunch of identical creepy owls. Uhtred hated those looks. He’d been getting them a lot in the past two years.

“Thank you for coming to see me, Uhtred,” the principal Odda greeted him, smoothing some papers out on his desk as Uhtred shuffled into his office. A steaming hot coffee mug sat to the side, untouched, and a bagel with a single bite mark in it lay on a napkin near the corner of his desk. “I wanted to talk to you about your behavior lately.” Uhtred blinked slowly but said nothing, leaving the ball in Odda’s court. Odda sighed. “You’ve been starting fights a lot lately in the past few months...the most recent one, three days ago, I believe, you sent my son home with a bloody nose and a black eye.”

“He called me names,” Uhtred said tonelessly, “And he’s an arsehole.” Odda grimaced and sucked air through his teeth. “See, Uhtred, that’s just more of what I’m talking about. You cannot just go around speaking like that to adults. You need to respect your elders. Otherwise, you’ll just keep getting in trouble and getting sent to detention. You know these are put on your permanent record.”

“...Fine.” Odda nodded, as though satisfied, and shuffled his papers. The reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose drooped a little and he pushed them back up towards his face.

“I also wanted to talk about your grades this semester.”

“What about them?” Uhtred stated more than inquired, hair falling over his shoulder as he tilted his head to the side. The old man never said anything of interest to him, just that he needed to stay on track if he wanted to be successful in life and that he had to watch his words in his essays. So what. He scanned the rest of the principal’s office nonchalantly, searching for an item to fixate on so he didn’t have to meet Odda’s eyes.

“They were just fine in your freshman year, perfectly average and acceptable for you to graduate, but halfway through your sophomore year they took a turn for the worse. Last year you failed both your English class and your maths class, barely passing your science class with a C-minus.”

“And what about it?” Uhtred repeated, twiddling his thumbs. His eyes alighted upon the globe in the back of the room on top of Odda’s filing cabinet and he exhaled deeply, wondering if he could get it to spin with his breath alone all the way from across the room. It didn’t move and he felt his mood blacken a bit more for no reason whatsoever.

“See here, Uhtred,” Odda said, leaning forward and turning the paper so he could see it, “you’ve got this red letter here. What letter is this?” Uhtred rolled his eyes.

“An F, sir,” he said, turning the honorific into more of a mocking title.

“Yes, I see, and do you know what happens when you fail your core classes, Uhtred?” There was a pointed gleam in Odda’s eye.

“What, sir?”

“It means you fail. You fail the entire year. And when you fail the entire year, do you know what that means, hmm? Let me tell you. You have to retake all of these classes.” Uhtred shot out of his chair, outraged. “I most certainly do not!” he shouted. “I’m not taking these bullshit courses again! I could pass these in my sleep, this is fucked up!”

“Life isn’t always fair, Uhtred,” Odda gave Uhtred another pointed look for his language and Uhtred sat down again, chastised. He sighed. “I know you‘ve had a tough time these past couple years.” Uhtred scoffed and whipped his head to the side.

That was a bit of an understatement, he thought. Uhtred had never known his birth parents. All he had ever known was his adoptive brother Ragnar’s father, who was also named Ragnar. He had grown up alongside Ragnar, Ragnar’s sister Thyra, and Brida, his best friend, and together the four of them were inseparable. Two years ago, Ragnar’s father had died in an accident, leaving Uhtred and his adoptive family to Kjartan, Ragnar’s uncle. Kjartan was neglectful and ignorant; he mostly left them to their own devices since he couldn’t be brought to care enough about them to hurt them. His son Sven was an abusive arseole whenever he visited, though.

“I don’t want your pity. It’s fine.”

“Since I know there are extenuating circumstances involved, I’ll give you an ultimatum,” Odda said. “I’ve asked a boy in your class to tutor you in all four of your core classes. He’s agreed to do it - don’t give me that look - in exchange for community service hours. You don’t have to pay him a dime.” The chair Uhtred was sitting in squeaked as he uncrossed his legs and recrossed them.

“And who am I tutoring with, sir?” Uhtred mocked, thinking his day couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“His name is Alfred Rex, I believe he’s in your class-”

Ohhhhhhhh, fuck that.

“No!” Uhtred yelled, “I am not working with that pain in my arse!” Odda gave him a pointed look over his reading glasses.

“I believe he’s in your class, and you should be grateful that he’s agreed to do this for so little. He’s the brightest student in the school. Surely you won’t be able to fail any of your classes with his help.” Taking a sip of his coffee, Odda leaned back in his chair, looking satisfied. Uhtred was glad one of them was.

“You must have missed the part where I said he was a pain in my arse,” Uhtred seethed, fingers itching to strangle the principal - and maybe a particular student - to death, “We absolutely hate each other! This will be a fucking disaster! He doesn’t want to teach me shit, he just wants to lord over me like he always has!”

“Now I am just disappointed in you. Alfred wants to help, truly he does! And he’s all you’ve got right now, so you’ll just have to suck it up and deal with it, won’t you?”

“How much time do I have to spend with him anyways?” he spat. Odda met his eyes over his reading glasses and pursed his lips.

“You’ll be tutoring with him four days a week. One day for language arts, one day for maths, one day for science, and one day for history. At the end of the week he’ll give you a report of your progress. Really, you should count yourself lucky that he’s taking so much time out of his busy schedule to tutor you.”

I have to spend four days out of every week with him?!

“That’s not going to work, no way, I can’t spend four days out of every week with him. Give me anybody else and I swear to whatever god you worship that I’ll do it. Not him.”

“Uhtred, I already told you,” Odda’s voice grew firm, “You can take it or leave it. You’re not getting tutoring from anyone but Alfred. This is the last straw.”

“Whatever,” Uhtred hissed, “I’m leaving, and I’m not getting any tutoring if it’s from him! Alfred can screw his perfect self as many times as he likes, see where that gets him.”

“Uhtred! Wait!” Odda called after him. Shutting the door to Odda’s office, Uhtred pulled a cigarette out of his backpack and lit it, ignoring the multiple shouts of his name that followed the trail of smoke he left down the hall.

Uhtred slammed the door to his car shut, seething as he aggressively turned the ignition key and cranked the volume on the radio up high. He plugged his phone into the charger cord and hit call on the pre-existing groupchat he had with his best friends, Finan Agil, Sihtric Elflaedsson - his name was actually Kjartanson, but he legally changed it a few years ago when he moved in with his mom - and Osferth Heahengel. “Hey,” Uhtred said as the line clicked and they all greeted him. Gym class with Coach Leofric had just ended, so they were still in the locker room changing their clothes.

“The hell was that all about earlier?” Finan asked on the other side of the line. “You get sent to the office again? What’d he tell you?” The others voiced similar questions.

“You want to know what he told me? I’m fucking failing my classes. I have to get a tutor. I have to see him four times a week. That’s bullshit!” Uhtred ranted. “I’m going to have to repeat a year if I can’t bring my grades up. This is by far the worst fucking shit that has happened to me, ever.” Feeling his temper worsen, Uhtred made a right turn far more violently than he normally did and grunted as the tires squealed.

“What the hell?!” Sihtric yelled on the other end of the line. “You have to get tutoring?! That sucks!” Uhtred nodded his agreement even though they couldn’t see him.

“Do you know who your tutor is?” asked Osferth. “Maybe you won’t actually mind them. I mean if they said yes, they can’t be that bad, can they?” Uhtred gave a mocking laugh.

“Oh, dear Osferth, why don’t you just go on and ask me who it is?” The line went silent for a moment as all the friends considered how bad the news was going to be, and then Osferth spoke again.

“Uh...who is it?”

“Oh, only Alfred fucking Rex, the hugest prick in our grade.” 

“You’re fucking kidding me!” “You have to tutor with Alfred?!” “But you two hate each other’s guts!” They all exclaimed simultaneously.

That fucking bastard, Uhtred thought, I know he’s just doing this to get one over me. He’s always bossing me around and acting like he owns the entire school. I fucking hate pricks like him.

“That’s just the worst,” Sihtric said sympathetically. The sound of a door opening on the other side of the line roused Uhtred from his bitter thoughts. They must have finished changing and were now heading to their next classes.

“I know, but Odda doesn’t even care,” Uhtred spat, “He says this is all I get! I can’t believe his audacity! You and I both know that Alfred wants to boss me around and that’s that!”

“I don’t know, Uhtred, maybe give him a chance,” Finan said doubtfully, “At least you’ve got a tutor, and Alfred’s the smartest kid in the school. You’ve got an advantage here.”

“Well, whatever, I’m home now so I’ll talk to you guys later,” Uhtred said, pulling the phone away from his ear.

“Wait, you went home?!” Osferth exclaimed. 

“Uhtred, you’re going to get caught. That’ll just be another detention for you. Maybe you should come back.” Uhtred turned the key in his car’s ignition and slid it into his pocket, ignoring Finan’s words.

“Right now, I couldn’t care less about detentions,” Uhtred said. “See you guys later.” Finan protested with a “wait, you bastard—!!”, but Sihtric and Osferth bid him goodbye and he hit the end call button with little remorse before shutting his car door and making his way to the front door.

“I’m home,” Uhtred called out as he shut the door behind him. A chorus of ‘hey’s greeted him and Uhtred left his bag on a chair before walking into the living room. Ragnar - Uhtred’s adoptive older brother - and his childhood-friend-turned-girlfriend Brida were cuddling together on the couch. Some movie Uhtred didn’t recognize was paused on the screen. “Uhtred, what are you doing home so early?” Ragnar frowned at him as he sat up and pushed the blanket off his legs. Uhtred exhaled deeply and plopped on the couch like a deadweight, causing Brida to shove him with her foot.

“Didn’t feel like staying at school,” he muttered. “Left after gym class.” Brida sat up at that and she exchanged a glance with Ragnar, looking concerned.

“Hey, well,” Ragnar began, “Speaking of school, I have something I need to talk to you about.” Uhtred frowned.

Gee, how could this day possibly get any worse? I can’t wait.

“The principal called us a couple days ago and told us that...you’re failing this year, Uhtred,” Ragnar said seriously. Brida nodded alongside him.

“He said you’re going to have to repeat a year if you can’t hack it,” she added. “So Ragnar talked to him and the principal arranged for you to get tutoring with—“

“—With Alfred,” Uhtred interrupted, balling his fists, “Yeah, I already fucking heard.” Ragnar’s eyes widened.

“Oh, fuck,” he said.

“Yeah, oh fuck! I can’t believe you! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I could have said no sooner!” Ragnar shrugged and laid back against the couch, crossing his arms behind his head. “I forgot,” he said honestly, smirking.

“Are you kidding me?! You know how much I hate Alfred! Why are you laughing at this?!”

“I’m not,” he said, “Don’t know what you mean.”

“Ragnar, please, tell me there is another option besides getting tutoring from Alfred of all people,” Uhtred begged.

“Sorry, Uhtred, but there’s no negotiation on this one. You need to get out of this house and away from Kjartan. You can’t do that if you fail your last year of high school. You need to go to college and, well, your principal gave you a stellar opportunity. Besides, you guys have never really spent any time together outside of class. Maybe you could find some common ground and we can finally be free of your constant complaining.” Uhtred dug his nails into his palms.

“How,” he growled, “Could this possibly be a good thing? Stop acting like my dad, Ragnar, you’re only a year older than me. I thought you were on my side about him.”

“Is that what this is about, Uhtred? That you don’t need help?” Ragnar rounded his eyes pleadingly. “Come on, Uhtred, do it for your future. Not because I think you’re going to be some great brilliant fucking Einstein, but you need to get out of here. Don’t be like this. You’re doing it whether you like it or not. I will call Alfred and have him come to our house for tutoring. You can do this on your terms or on ours.” Uhtred growled and reached for his phone, standing up from the couch to head upstairs.

“Give him a chance,” Ragnar said again. “One chance.”

“Fine,” he hissed, “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’m going to hate every fucking minute of this and you’re going to feel extremely guilty whenever you think about it!”

“Where do you think you’re going?! Your first session is at three,” Ragnar called after him. Uhtred just yelled in response and slammed his door shut, the little bells on his door handle jingling.

As he lay on his bed in his room, the door locked, Uhtred took the time to reflect about the day’s events so far.

Alfred Rex...he’s a total fucking prick.

Uhtred had met Alfred in his freshman year of high school. Alfred had gone to a different elementary and middle school than he had, but Winchester High was the only high school in the area. They’d immediately gotten off on the wrong foot and had been bitter enemies ever since. Uhtred thought Alfred was an officious, sickly, annoying pain in his arse and Alfred thought he was a stupid child that needed to be told what to do. Hate at first sight, truly.

Uhtred sighed. His sister Aethelflaed was so much nicer. She was a freshman, so he’d only met her this year, but he had no idea how the two of them were related. Aethelflaed was a social butterfly and tried to include everyone in everything she did, while Alfred was just a complete arseole. Dammit, why was he stuck with him?!

Growling, Uhtred threw his phone at the wall.

3:02 pm. He was past the point of no return. Pushing open the library doors reluctantly, Uhtred poked his head in, scanning the area. A couple of students he recognized were perusing the library’s faculties. Aldhelm Sawyer - an extremely tall brunet who had a bag of wet dicks for a personality - lounged on one of the couches with a science textbook propped on his lap, one leg crossed over the other. A pretty ginger girl whose name he thought was Eadith sat at a table by one of the windows across from a guy with dark hair; Eardwulf was his name, if Uhtred remembered correctly. Aethelflaed, Alfred’s younger sister, was using one of the computers. When he walked in, she turned around and smiled at him and he felt his heart flutter a bit. Something about her had that effect on people. On the other side of the room in the tutoring section, Odda - the principal’s little shit of a son - was giving a freshman tutoring session at one of the whiteboards. Alfred was nowhere in sight so Uhtred headed towards one of the open tables and plopped into a chair, checking his phone.

“You shouldn’t be on your phone if you’re here to learn,” a voice behind him said. Uhtred whipped around, hissing.

“What do you want,” he bit out, before thinking better of it when he recognized the owner of the voice as his tutor, Alfred. Alfred was...how did Uhtred describe him? He was tiny and slender, shorter than Uhtred by about half a foot. The first time they met, Uhtred mistook him for a twelve-year-old, even though they’d both been fourteen. His wispy brown hair fell just below his ears and he had a pair of bright blue eyes that were so intense they always made Uhtred feel uncomfortable, framed by a pair of silver wire lens glasses. In essence, he looked like a nerd, which was another reason why Uhtred hated him. Nerds were annoying.

Uhtred scoffed and pocketed his phone, leering up at Alfred balefully. “Whatever you say, Lord. I’m here for your blessings and guidance, so let’s get this started, shall we?” Alfred sat down and the two of them unpacked their belongings in silence.

“We’re going over English today, as per Odda’s suggestion, so why don’t you show me where you’re at?” Alfred asked, putting his chin in his palm.

“Yeah, go on, teach me stuff...English. I bet you’re fucking great at it.” Uhtred crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in his chair until the front legs were off the ground, hoping to provoke a reaction. He was disappointed; Alfred merely ignored his blatantly disrespectful behavior, instead ducking his head to flip through his English textbook.

“Feel free to disrespect me,” he murmured, “But rest assured that Principal Odda will hear about it, and my reports are extremely thorough. I don’t care what you say to me, but just know that it will reflect badly on you.”

Oh my gods, I fucking hate this guy so much!

“Yes, my Lord, I live only to serve you,” Uhtred snarked, clenching and unclenching his fists under the table. Leaning over, Uhtred pulled his folder out of his backpack and slid a paper out. “We’re reading Of Mice And Men. You might think that’s a bit below your skill set, but here you are.” Alfred snatched the paper from his hand, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t be facetious, Uhtred. Just shut up and let me read this. That’s what I’m here for, as you said.” Never having been one to follow orders, Uhtred opened his mouth to snark again, but Alfred snapped his fingers to grab his attention and glared at him.

“I said shut up. I’m reading,” he repeated, his eyes moving back and forth like the spool of a typewriter. After a couple of minutes, he set the paper flat on the table and bit his lip, looking a bit uncertain of what to do.

“Well, Lord? Does it meet your lofty expectations?” 

“Can you not?” Alfred asked sharply, “And no, I’m sorry to say, it does not. What were you even trying to write? The subject of your analysis seems to jump to and fro. And while you are summarizing the story in your analysis, that’s all you’re doing. Summarizing. You’re not explaining why it’s important or what it means. Here, let me show you mine…”

“‘Bye, nerd,” Uhtred sneered, standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Alfred stood a bit more slowly, organizing all of his supplies into a neat pile before picking them all up and sliding them into his bookbag. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” Alfred inquired, not appearing bothered by the epithet apart from his clenched jaw. Good. “Make sure you incorporate what I told you today into your essay. I don’t want you to get a poor grade. And do keep in mind that I am reporting all of this to Principal Odda.”

Sure, whatever, Assfred! Feel free to slit your throat when you get home today! “...Yeah,” Uhtred said, before standing up and leaving without a word of thanks. Aethelflaed waved at him on his way out and he grinned back at her as he opened the doors.

“Welcome home, Uhtred,” Thyra greeted Uhtred as he stomped inside. The smell of spaghetti assaulted his senses and all of a sudden he felt much calmer than he had been a moment ago. “How was your first tutoring session?”

“Yeah, how was it?” Ragnar called from the living room, where he and Brida were cuddling yet again. The same movie as yesterday was paused on the TV and Uhtred had a feeling they hadn’t actually watched any of it and were just using it as an excuse to cuddle. A bowl of popcorn soaked in butter lay on Brida’s lap and the table was littered with empty beer cans, another in Ragnar’s hand.

“It fucking sucked. Alfred is even more of a bastard than I remember. Feel free to regret your decision completely,” Uhtred sniffed. Ragnar grimaced sympathetically.

“Is he seriously that bad?” he asked, snorting. “All I know about him is from your complaining.”

“He’s a fucking midget, but he tries to talk to me like he’s better than me! I fucking hate that, you know I do!” Uhtred threw his hands up. “He treats me like a stupid child and what’s more, he’s telling Odda everything that happens! Like some kind of probation officer! ‘Don’t disrespect me, Uhtred,’ ‘don’t use your phone when you’re supposed to be learning, Uhtred,’ ‘don’t breathe oxygen, Uhtred!’ He’s so annoying!”

“Sounds like a cunt,” Brida said.

“He is!!”

“Well, I’m sorry Uhtred, but if you want to pass your classes, your best bet is tutoring with him. You’re going to have to suck it up. Maybe you two just got off on the wrong foot,” he suggested, playing peacemaker.

“Not true,” Uhtred declared, “He just sucks at being a person.” He kicked Brida’s feet off the table so he could prop his own up and stole a popcorn kernel from her bowl. She flipped him off. “I’m just going to try to pass my classes this year and as soon as I do I’ll be totally done with him forever. Damn, that’ll be a good time.” Ragnar lifted his beer can in a toast.

“To the cunt who’s helping you pass your classes,” he said, and they echoed his toast as he downed his beer can and tossed it on the table.

“Ragnar, throw that empty beer can in the trash right now, you pig!” Thyra shouted from the kitchen. Ragnar shrugged and lazily kicked it onto the floor. “Ragnar!!” Giving Uhtred a ‘what-can-you-do’ expression, he stood up from the couch with a loud, obnoxious groan, plucking the beer can from the floor before lumbering to the kitchen.

“Hey, is dinner ready yet—”

“No! And stop asking, you animal, it’ll be ready when I say it is.”

“Geez, old woman, I was only asking, don’t hit me!”

Uhtred sat back against the couch and lifted the remote, clicking it until the TV changed to an acceptable channel. As the TV faded into background noise, he lifted his head to the ceiling and thought about what had happened that day.

Well, overall today sucked. I’m failing my classes and I’m getting tutored by Alfred, who’s a privileged arseole and also a complete tool. This whole year is going to be absolute bullshit with him around.

One chance, my arse. This year can’t end soon enough.

Art posts: @lauwrite1225‘s sketches of the high school!Coccham squad, @seaberrycloudberry‘s sketches of high school!Uhtred and Alfred, and @seaberrycloudberry‘s sketches of the characters in high school + sketches of Alfred, Aethelflaed, and Edward!!! THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH. THEY’RE PERFECT. Tagging @bellamehblake, @lonelyislanddaydreamer, @caleb-16charisma-widogast, @ucancallmechlo, @cocchamscrew, @myenglandmylove, @nightskyfangirl, @morganology, @tsukkinami @pokeasleepingsmaug here it is you guys!! I finally posted something!!!

[armymaryoongi]

Chapter three: Sakura Handkerchief

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, slightly mature, historical au; king au

warning: mentions of death/alcohol

words count: 1k+

Special appearance: Royal Swordsman Kim Taehyung

Note:  English is not my native language. (I’ve added links to the royal marriage attires if you curious to know)

(Names, places and incidents are just based on fiction)

masterlist // Ch. Four

Summary: Just like any other kids, King Min Yoongi also has his own childhood memories but his involved a mystery girl who he met once and was known as his love at the first sight. Will he gets any chance to meet her again? What will he does when he found her? Will the girl remember her too?

8 YEARS LATER

Loud thuds can be heard clearly across the King’s quarter as the two blades striking on one another fiercely. His long blonde hair was poker-straight and it flowed behind him as he sways his body, immersed with the movement of his sword. Only some of his hair is pulled back into a ponytail. His pale skin is glistening with sweats as he continuously positions himself under the blazing sun. Nothing seems different from his previous self except his height, voice, status and manners—maturity and manly.

Before his opponent can think of another strategy, he swiftly cut the air as his blade aimed the man, finishing the battle. “You are magnificent, King!” sincere praise came out smoothly from his swordsman, Kim Taehyung. The praised man unable to say anything in between catching his breath only shows off his smirk. “I would like to suggest you practise only once a week since you are already powerful in a sword battle.” Kim continuously praised his King.

The King slowly walked to the bench near his chamber and took a seat on it. “As someone who I pointed as Royal swordsman, I believe your words. Arrange the schedule and inform me as soon as possible.” He gave his sword to Kim, letting him secure it later. “I will do as you command. Let me know if you need anything regarding your sword practices.” Kim answered and bowed deeply.

“Taehyung, as my most trusted man in this palace. Please be honest with me.” Min looked up at the sky, hesitated to ask his swordsman. “Yes, anything my King.” he wiped off the sweats that threatening to fall from his forehead. Min didn’t answer him, instead, he pointed his right eyes—his scar. Kim doesn’t need clarification as he understood where this conversation will lead to. “Your queen to-be will accept you wholly, King. Unless she’s an ignorant person and fails to understand.” he assured the young King.

Yes, Yoongi has a scar that scratched from his black brow to his apple of the cheek. It happened two years ago when a big war occurred between Joseon and Shangri La caused by economic gain. As a Crown Prince who was skilful in a sword battle, he has voiced out the idea to take part in the war even though the Queen—his mother has opposed the idea, scared anything happens to Joseon’s only heir. A month of the war, news about Shangri La almost conquered Joseon had spread around the world but lucks and victory have chosen Joseon over the opponent country. Howbeit, the aftermath of war has sacrificed a thousand soldiers from Joseon, included Hyung Sun, the Head Personal Guard who wanted to devote devotion to the country. After the death of Hyung Sun, this Royal swordsman named Kim Taehyung has become the most trusted and closest person to Min Yoongi.

Sad to say, the following year, Joseon received another shocking news when their beloved King—Min Yoongi’s father passed away after six months fallen sick. With advice from ministers, Yoongi must take over the throne even though he is an unwed man. According to the rules, someone with a scar cannot be the King to the country but it cannot be applied in Yoongi’s affair. The scar on his face is a symbol of his loyalty and dedication to Joseon. Hence, the entire country agreed to pass down the throne to him.

Killing two birds with one stone; Yoongi is in his mother’s chamber to visit and has a discussion. He is well aware of himself—the King need a companion, a queen and a wife beside him to rule the country. Currently, he is proposing the idea to wed a princess as he is not young anymore for the palace to hold the selection of Crown Princess as they did when he was a little child. “I agree with you, child. Besides, I don’t want to repeat that history.” the Queen Dowager glared at his son as she reminds him. Yet, she only received a soft chuckle from the young King.

“Mother, as you just said, that happened when I was a little child, too young to understand about palace rules. Now, I’m the King and I need someone that not only can rule this country with me but to share life, emotions and problems together for eternal.” he pressed his lips into a thin smile. His cheeks became rosy as he felt shy to utter these words to his mother. The Queen Dowager said nothing as she felt relieved when she listened to his son. Evidently, Min Yoongi has improved himself these previous years by through learning day by day. She’s confident that Yoongi will be another good king just like his late husband.

The news about the Royal Marriage has been announced to the folks and they are happy for the King and excited for the next Queen. They have hung lanterns and decorations along the streets and market to celebrate the exciting week while the fireworks will take place later at midnight. The palace guards have light up the torch fire to brighten the mood around the palace. Whereas the court ladies have decorated the Royal banquet hall, King and Queen’s quarters and tidy up the bridal’s chamber.

The Sakura handkerchief he bought eight years ago is in his hand. The base is pure white but its colour has faded a bit. Nevertheless, the pink colour of embroidery still stays radiant like before. Yoongi caressed the handkerchief as it is his lover. It feels nostalgic, how strong the memory has stayed in his mind even though he had tried to vanish it. Without he notices, the corner of his lips lifted as he rewinds the memory. The soft thud came from the door, startled him who is standing by the window. “Your Highness, I am here.” Kim alerted his King. The soft chuckle succeeds to escape from his mouth. “Drop the formality, Taehyung. We shall have a drink like friends.” he walked pass Taehyung to keep the dear handkerchief in the chest. Only tea is being served for tonight, no alcohol as tomorrow is the King and Queen’s marriage. The Queen to-be has arrived at the palace this evening and the King being a shy man, avoided from walking out from his throne hall as he doesn’t want to collide with her.

“Aren’t you nervous?” Taehyung asked Yoongi as he pouring the hot tea into the small teacups, started the conversation. Yoongi who chose to stay quiet just nodded his head. “I know you still can’t forget that person but make some room for your queen. She deserves it.” a reminder left out his mouth as he wants the best for the King and the Queen. “Of course I will. She will soon be the mother to our—” Yoongi abruptly shut his mouth as the realisation hit him. His tip of ears becomes red as he’s burning with embarrassment.

Ha! I knew it. You already think about—” now it’s Taehyung’s turn to shut his mouth as he realised with who he is speaking now. “Please punish this commoner for being rude to you.” he quickly stand up before knelt down in front of Yoongi. The King said nothing but laughed out loud. His swordsman looked at him with widen eyes, frightening with the sudden change of atmosphere. 

“Since this is not liquor for us to drink until blackout, let’s drink until our stomach bloated!” Yoongi and Taehyung clinked their cups against one another to celebrate the night. It’s been a while since the King behave like this. Perhaps, he is now on the cloud nine as he finally will tie a knot with a Princess Y/n from Daeshin, a kingdom not to far from Joseon.

The next day, the streets crowded with the villagers from distinct class and status, wearing various colours of hanbok—from dark to bright colour. The upper class dress up elegantly while the commoners dress up nicely. The villagers are now on their way to the palace as they will gather at the throne hall to witness the Royal ceremony as well as celebrate the glorious newlyweds. The striking red hwarot is now on your body. The hwagwan and royal binyeo are placed on the gold tray, waiting to be placed at the front of your head and in your hair. Your body is moving slightly as the court lady is shaping your braided hair into a bun. Your chamber becomes as quiet as a mouse, only the rustles can be heard as you keep smoothing the front fabric of your hwarot.

“The Queen Dowager is here!” announced the court lady who is guarding the door. As the Queen Dowager entered your chamber, you tried to soar but she quickly asked you to remain at your place. “Are you doing good, princess Y/n?” she looks at you through the reflection of the mirror. The court lady named Yeon is carefully sticking in the binyeo to secure your bun hair from unravelling. You giggled softly, cover your mouth with the back of your smooth hand. “Your majesty, thank you for asking. I am quite nervous since I never expose myself to the public.” Truthfully, it is prohibited for maiden moreover the princesses of the kingdom to appear in the public of eyes. The Queen Dowager tried to soothe your feelings by telling you that the ceremony will run smoothly until the night where King Min and you will spend the night together. Her words made you feel shudder as a chill runs down your spine. You just smile at her words and your face started to heat up as you nervously thinking of tonight.

[mothercetrion]

Acceptance

Summary: Kuai Liang decides that it’s time to tell the Lin Kuei that he’s with Hanzo. It’s not easy news, but it feels right.

Characters: Sub-Zero (Kuai Liang), Bi-Han and Saibot, Sektor, Cyrax, Smoke (Tomas Vrbada)

Word Count: 2202

Request: “If you want, could you write Kuai telling Bi-Han, Smoke, Cyrax, and Sektor about his relationship with Hanzo (or at least one of them).” - anonymous

another request!!! woohoo!!! this has been done for a while but I’ve just been so busy. I apologize for the wait

I gotta be real, this fic is heavy. deaths are referenced, hatred is mentioned, and it’s mild angst. but I promise all of you that there is a happy, hopeful ending. this is on ao3!! enjoy

———

He waited until Hanzo was on good terms with the Lin Kuei on purpose.

Once they all could be in the same room and it not be tense, once Hanzo could attempt to joke and the others laughed, that’s when Kuai Liang knew that it was time to tell the others that he and Hanzo were together.

The moment they started staying at the Lin Kuei temple again, he knew one thing: he did not want to overwhelm them. Being revived and jumping right into normal life alone could be challenging to manage. They needed a while of transitioning into a normal life, as Kuai Liang did, before learning about anything too drastic.

It took a month. It took a month before the night terrors were mostly gone, and smiles were natural. It took a month before Hanzo could visit the temple, and they’d have a good few hours of jokes and laughter and fun. It took a month before Kuai Liang felt that things would be okay if he told them.

He told Hanzo, and Hanzo said that he was okay with him telling them. He wanted them to know anyhow; they were six months into their relationship, and he didn’t want them to find out through someone that wasn’t them… namely, Johnny Cage, who tended to spill secrets when excited.

Light snow fell at the temple, and Kuai Liang had decided to give the Lin Kuei off for the evening to do whatever they desired. Some of them rested, some of them meditated, and some of them sparred. Some of them even had snowball fights at various locations around the temple, and their laughter filled the air and made the whole area happier. Kuai Liang figured that it was as good a time as any.

He invited Bi-Han, Saibot, Tomas, Cyrax, and Sektor to tea to “celebrate their great mental strides over the last month,” which was a valid reason. The group had made excellent strides towards a better life since their revival. Nightmares were few and far between. Discussing their pasts was easier. They actually slept peacefully. Kuai Liang was, to say the least, incredibly proud of them.

As they sipped their tea, they discussed everything that they could possibly think of. The clan, one another, new friends, everything. Even Hanzo was brought up by Cyrax; he said that he wished to visit the renewed Shirai Ryu Fire Garden one day. The rest of the group agreed. That alone helped ease Kuai Liang’s racing heart.

When nearly everyone was concluded with their tea, Kuai Liang cleared his throat. “Before we conclude our tea, I… I have an announcement to make.”

The rest of them immediately put down their teacups. “This is a drastic mood change… Is everything alright, Kuai Liang?” Cyrax asked with a frown.

“Oh, of course.” Kuai Liang nodded hurriedly. “Everything is fine. Everything is… great. That’s exactly what I want to talk about.” He ran a hand through his hair. “This is a… a deeply personal thing that I’m telling you all today.”

“Kuai Liang,” Tomas said, smiling, “we already know that you’re gay. We’re cool with it, remember?”

The rest of the group snickered quietly, and Kuai Liang felt his cheeks turn red. “I… I know that, Tomas. I told you all ages ago. Thanks for the reminder.” He shook his head, failing to keep a smile from forming on his face. “Tomas, you threw me off!”

They all began laughing louder, and Kuai Liang covered his face with his hands in an attempt to compose himself of his laughter. “Goodness, okay… Look, everyone, um… there is no simple way to say this, so I’ll just say it upfront.” He uncovered his face and looked to all of them. “I am currently seeing someone.”

The entire group gasped, their laughter vanishing into the air. “Oh, Kuai Liang, that’s wonderful!” Cyrax said excitedly.

“Who is it? Someone that we know?” Sektor turned to look at the others, his smile growing. “I bet it’s that… that Cage fellow.”

“Do not tell me it’s Cage,” Bi-Han said teasingly. “I cannot handle him as an in-law.” Saibot’s quiet giggles were heard next to him, and they fell into his side, their white eyes closed in joy.

“No. No, it is not Cage.” Kuai Liang pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can assure you, it’s not him.”

“Don’t leave us hanging!” Tomas wiggled in his spot in excitement. “Who is it?”

Kuai Liang sighed deeply. “Just… keep an open mind, okay?”

“Absolutely, brother,” Bi-Han said, nodding. “We will love who he is, I’m sure.”

Kuai Liang closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again, looking down at the table to avoid their faces. “It’s Master Hasashi.”

Silence fell upon the group, and Kuai Liang got the courage to look up after a few moments. The first thing he noticed was that Tomas was grinning like an idiot, and Cyrax was struggling to not do the same thing. Sektor’s mouth hung open in shock. Saibot was pointing two thumbs up in Kuai Liang’s direction. Bi-Han’s expression was unreadable. “Oh, my gods. You’re kidding. It’s Hanzo? You’re dating Hanzo?” Tomas asked excitedly.

“I am,” Kuai Liang said, releasing a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

“How long?” Sektor asked. His happiness was evident in his voice.

“About… six months.” Kuai Liang felt his cheeks reddening. “They’ve been wonderful. Every second has been amazing.”

The three men all awwed. “That is so great. I’m so happy for you, Kuai Liang,” Cyrax said kindly. Sektor and Tomas immediately agreed.

Kuai Liang thanked them and looked over to Bi-Han, who was still neutral in expression. “Bi-Han?” he asked quietly. “What are you thinking?”

Bi-Han looked Kuai Liang in the eye. “I’m… processing. It’s a big shock, you know.”

“I understand.” Kuai Liang gripped at his fingers nervously. “I waited until I believed you could handle it. I know it’s—it’s big news.”

Bi-Han nodded and averted his gaze. “Yes, it’s… I honestly don’t know what to say.”

“Take as long as you need,” Sektor said quietly. He put a careful hand on his arm. “You are in no rush at all.”

“He is correct,” Kuai Liang agreed. Cyrax and Tomas said quiet agreements as well.

Bi-Han closed his eyes for a moment, and Saibot vanished into his side. Kuai Liang watched in stunned silence as Bi-Han climbed to his feet. “Please excuse me for a moment. I-I need to spend some time alone.” He turned on his heel and left the room, stepping outside the temple with quick steps.

Kuai Liang stared ahead in shock and did not notice Sektor move to sit on his side of the table with Tomas and Cyrax. “I… I waited,” he said quietly, “until I thought he could handle it.”

“There wasn’t a better time,” Tomas assured. “You waited as long as you could manage. He would have reacted the same way no matter what. It’s big news.”

Sektor put a hand on his shoulder when Kuai Liang’s hands began to shake. “He’s mad,” Kuai Liang mumbled. “He—He hates me.”

“Kuai Liang, listen to me,” Sektor said. “Bi-Han does not hate you. He loves you very much, he tells all of us this frequently.” Cyrax and Tomas nodded in agreement as he went on. “It is big news to take in. He needs some time to process it. He will come around, most assuredly. He just needs some time to think.”

Tomas and Cyrax were quick to offer him comfort as well, and Kuai Liang simply looked down at his lap with a shaky breath. “You all are happy about it, right?”

“Yes! Of course,” Cyrax assured, hugging Kuai Liang from the side. “We are ecstatic. Master Hasashi is a fine man.”

Tomas and Sektor were quick to offer side hugs of their own, so Kuai Liang was enveloped in support. Kuai Liang’s eyes fell closed, and he fought back the emotion he so strongly felt. “I want him to be happy too,” he whispered.

“He will be,” Tomas said confidently.

Time passed. The remaining four finished their tea, though with a much less happy tone for the gathering. Soon enough, Sektor encouraged Kuai Liang to go talk to Bi-Han, which was the last thing he wanted to do. But Sektor all but shoved him outside of the temple. He knew it was for the better, and Cyrax and Tomas agreed.

And there he was, stood outside his temple and staring at his brother, who was sat in the snow. He was creating snowballs with his cryomancy, tossing them in the air and watching them dissipate. Saibot was sat on the other side of him, gathering snow into their palms and messing with it with no intentions in mind except to pass the time. Kuai Liang could see half of Bi-Han’s face, and he was clearly thinking about the events of the day. The snow fell a tad heavier, but not much.

He saw Kuai Liang suddenly and turned his face to look at him. Saibot noticed him then and instantly vanished into Bi-Han’s side. “Why are you out here?” Bi-Han asked.

“I have to talk to you, Bi-Han,” Kuai Liang said. He stepped further away from the temple and sat in the snow in front of his brother. They sat in silence for a few moments before Kuai Liang cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Bi-Han frowned. “Why would you ever be sorry?”

“I upset you by mistake by sharing the news of my relationship.” Kuai Liang averted his gaze from his brother. “I wanted you to be ready to hear it, and you were not.”

“There is no reason to apologize. I promise,” Bi-Han assured. “It is just… It is just a big surprise. It would have been no matter when you told me. Hell, he and I could be best friends, and it would be a surprise.” He sighed softly. “My history with Master Hasashi is very complicated. You know this better than anyone, obviously.”

“I do.”

“And I don’t… I do not hate Master Hasashi.” Bi-Han looked off in the distance, past the mountain ranges and towards the horizon. “I used to. I used to live in the Netherrealm and think of how he wronged me. Since my revival, in addition to this hour or so of thinking, I have realized and fully understand the truth behind his actions. I have come to a conclusion.”

Kuai Liang looked back to his brother, frowning. “What would that be, Bi-Han?”

Bi-Han looked Kuai Liang in the eye. “I would have done the same thing that he did.”

Kuai Liang felt his heart stop in his chest. “You… You would?”

Bi-Han nodded firmly. “If the Lin Kuei were to be brutally murdered, and Sektor and Tomas and Cyrax and you were killed, and I believed it to be Master Hasashi that did it…” Bi-Han stopped, his voice cracking. He closed his eyes as he imagined the tragedy. He continued in a whisper. “I would kill him in an instant. I would avenge you without a moment of hesitation.”

His eyes opened. “I understand how guilty he feels, knowing the truth. But I… I have forgiven him for what he has done. It would be wrong of me not to, considering that I would do the same thing. It has not been easy, but it is what I feel is right, and that must be done, no matter how hard.” He stopped again, and he took in a breath and gave Kuai Liang a smile. “You have found yourself a respectable man, brother. It will definitely take some getting used to, but that comes with any new relationship.”

Kuai Liang’s heart began beating again, heavy against his chest as he processed what his brother was saying. “I… I do not know what to say.”

“Besides, if anyone should apologize, it’s me.” Bi-Han frowned as he thought back to their gathering earlier in the evening. “It was incredibly rude of me to walk out on you and the others like that. I plead that you forgive me for what I have done.”

“What? Yes, of course.” Kuai Liang shook his head in shock. “I expected it to a certain extent.”

“So everything is cleared up, yes? I want to see Master Hasashi soon to congratulate him, and… I am delighted that you have found someone that makes you happy,” Bi-Han said kindly. “You have spoken fondly of him for weeks. I fully believe that this is a good thing for you both.”

Kuai Liang could not help but grin. “Thank you, Bi-Han. It means everything to me to hear you say that.”

Bi-Han returned the smile, and he chuckled to himself. “So… Have you two kissed yet?”

“Bi-Han!” Kuai Liang gasped. He glanced away from him, very clearly embarrassed. “It is none of your business what Hanzo and I do.”

“I’m just kidding.” Bi-Han laughed aloud and smacked at Kuai Liang’s knee. “Teasing you will always be a joy. That will never change.”

Kuai Liang felt relieved to hear his brother’s laugh. He knew things would be easier with time. Everything was easier with time.

[dishonoredrpg]

Congratulations, REY! You’ve been accepted for the role of THE HERMIT with the faceclaim of LUCY BOYNTON. History loves a revolutionary, and there’s no doubt in my mind that this sentiment will extend to Marceline. I could feel her desperation to be part of something bigger than herself -- maybe even larger than her father’s ambitions -- they practically leapt right off the page. I felt for her in her loss, ached for her in her need for revenge, empathized with the pain and appreciated her determination to change things for the better. The Hermit has the potential to be small-scale, but you’ve taken her far beyond that, and I cannot wait to see what Marceline does on the dashboard! 

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

OOC

NAME: Rey PRONOUNS: She/Her AGE: 25+ TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: PST. Because I am currently working from home, I would say on a scale of 1 to 10, I am a 7. I try to log on at least once a day. ANYTHING ELSE?: Just how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood!

IN CHARACTER

SKELETON: The Hermit NAME: Marceline Ash Pelagius FACECLAIM: 1. Lucy Boyton 2. Lindsey Morgan AGE: 22

DETAILS: I’ve chosen the Hermit because she reminds me so much of the French republican youths that got involved after the French Revolution (as most famously depicted in Les Misérables) and I’d love to dig into the historical parallels. Like Enjorlas, Marceline is born into wealth, but she sheds herself of this reputation and becomes a bleeding heart for the revolution.  (Also like Enjorlas, she’s a “charming young (wo)man who is also capable of being terrible.”)

Revolutions rarely begin with noble aims, even if the outcome might not suggest so. For Marceline, revolution begins with vengeance. Her attempts to get closer to the Fool and the guards of the city in order to avenge her father’s death opens her eyes to the social and political inequalities of the kingdom. What was once simply about revenge is now about so much more. She’s a woman who knows she wants to kill a king, but her reasons for deciding to do so only keep growing with time. Before long, she begins to assume her father’s radical political beliefs: tear down the monarchy and replace it with a republic. I find myself drawn to dedicated characters with unyielding drives - especially ones whose moral compass seems so set but will in actuality change at the shift of a tide in order justify their end goals.

Marceline is very much  a person to be reckoned with. Her fight becomes a fight against her own grief, her unknown magic and the monolith of monarchy. Each of these seem to be an immovable object, but she is the unstoppable force that beats against them. The Hermit tarot card can signify someone who is taking too much time for self reflection or too little. In the case of Marceline, she is someone who thinks she knows herself well enough to simply act; she is so set on her path that true self-reflection is something she doesn’t spend enough time on.

BACKGROUND:

You know this is not a rebellion, you know it’s a revolution.

You are born of a noble house, the only child, last of your name. Your mother is revered in court as the Keeper of Coins. She has a mind for finances and business, though you inherit the steel of her spine and the cut of her jib more than anything else. If you trace her lineage far back enough you’ll see that before nobility came piracy and maybe that’s why she’s always been so good with gold. She’s a smart woman with a sharp eye that upholds her family’s reputation by being someone that can sniff out a poor deal or a tampered book with ease. She’s never really sailed the seas, but you can see that she misses it. And thus, so do you. Most of your lullabies are sea shanties and you take your first steps along the banks of Tyr’s Tear. You cannot remember a time when you didn’t know how to swim. Your mother, for some hidden reason, knows how to fight and she is the one to teach you how to use a sword. ‘A cutlass’ she clarifies the first time you call it something else. ‘There’s language used correctly and then there’s language used beautifully.’

Meanwhile, your father is hopelessly bound to the land. More specifically, he is hopelessly bound to his books. He is an academic that is fortunate enough to be born into nobility. His father lived a long life as a trusted advisor to Octavius Valmont. A former educator at the Bard’s College, the birth of you brings about a new chapter to your father's life causing him to leave the college and spend most of his days in Tyrholm writing, reading, and discussing matters of political science. How he wooed your mother you’ll never know, but because of them you’ll never doubt what love is. If you had to guess though, your father enchanted your mother because no one used language more beautifully than him.

Your father has a secret though. When you are four years old, you learn that you’ve inherited it. The two of you are Inferi magi.

The fastest way to someone’s heart is through conspiracy and you and your father are bound by this secret you share. He’s spent his whole life hiding this, and he teaches you to do the same. You hate being anything other than outspoken, anything other than untruthful about what you think and who you are, and the only anchor is you know how much he hates it too. The two of you hold tight to something the world hates and work to make it a gift more than a curse. This is what connects you to your father. Inferi magic is destructive, but your father shows you that sometimes that is the way of life. He tells you about the pine-trees that depend on heat to crack open their seeds. He talks about entire forests that are born from the ash of forest fires. Sometimes, in order to make something stronger, you must burn it down; sometimes, in order to make something last forever, you must destroy it. You know the story of the wolves and the snakes, he’s told you it over and over again to lull you to sleep, but he tells you it again now. Political structures -  you are five so you say ‘what’ and he replaces the phrase ‘political structures’ with the words ‘Kingdoms, like Tyrholm’ and you say ‘oh, okay’ - Kingdoms, like Tyrholm, get better, continue surviving, by being torn down and rebuilt. Just like the wolves and the snakes.

‘Let me teach you little one, how revolutions begin.’ He tells you instead of bedtime stories.

Your father believes in revolution, in a way that is before his time. He wants to dismantle the monarchy and in its stead assemble a republic government. His political ideology stands stark amongst the beliefs of this world and you are young enough to be enraptured by the optimism of it. Your mother, far better at playing society’s game than your father is, tells him not to speak so loudly about such things when you are not in your home.

And it is a nice home. For all of your father’s gripes against King, it seems the current system has given you and your family everything you need. You have all the flourishes that come with wealth: a respectable reputation, a lavish upbringing, a thorough education. You’re a lady and the dresses and the etiquette and the social gatherings don’t let you forget it. In many ways you are like your father, you debate and you discuss and think deeply on things with little regard to how that reflects on your station in life. Your mother is the opposite. She teaches you how to lie and survive within the status quo.

You are ten when your father begins writing pamphlets - ‘purely educational,’ he defends - about what a republic is. At least once a month he meets with a handful of like-minded people who are interested in discussing such things and their conversations often go late into the night. They sit tucked away and hidden in the back of a low-lit tavern - and you know these things because you are wily enough to try and follow him one night. Your father catches you and drags you back to the manor by the scruff of your neck like some stray kitten. Your mother is furious - at the both of you.

You are sent to bed without any supper and your father sleeps in the library that evening.

So goes your life. You become your mother’s apprentice as the Keeper of Coins and she makes it worth your while by teaching you to spar in the evenings. Your footwork improves more quickly than your mathematics, but you’re not too bad at either. Your life as a lady blooms. More lessons, more competitions. You find love, a first love, so you don’t understand that there can be different kinds, and even sour kinds. All you’ve ever witnessed is the warmth between your parents, even in their bickering, and so the most naive parts of you believe this to be true of all love.

This routine is almost enough to make you forget about the plights of the kingdom and that you live in a gilded cage.

Your father gets bolder in his commitment to a radical political movement. You’re 15 when you start staying up late to help him proofread the pamphlet he writes. The two of you start taking camping trips to the Volkun Forest, so that you may discuss such things freely amongst the trees. Out here, if the wrong word slips out or if a little bit of magic pushes through your fingertips, there is no one to pass judgment. Out here is freedom.

You take these trips and your father returns, only to lock himself in his study for the next three days. Sometimes you’ll press your ear to the door when the house is quiet and hear nothing more than the quick and furious scratching of a quill across parchment. Not too long after there will be fresh sheets of radical ideas floating through the city.

When you are 17, the fabric of your world is ripped apart at the seams. Your father’s ideas are labeled as treason and the King’s Guard ambushes you in the middle of the Volkun forest. They run your father through with a broadsword more times than necessary to kill him and he is left in a bloody, bloody heap. You manage to survive by playing dead. It’s a decision you replay over and over and over again. The anger over it lingers for years. You should have leaped to your feet and fought, and instead - you chose a coward’s route.

You dig a grave for your father using only your hands and still, somehow, you manage the return home.

The rage in your mother’s eyes when you tell her complements your deep sorrow. She dries your tears and you dry hers, but both of you agree that no one else will see you cry. Your magic burns in you that night, so hot and unknown that you throw yourself into the river to temper the flames that lick your blood. Your lack of training has never been more apparent than now. At such times you’d ask your father what was happening to you and even if he told you that he didn’t know, the shared loneliness made it bearable. He is not here now, and you must weather this alone.

Your mother doesn’t speak for 13 days. At first you think she will never speak again, you have heard of those that die of heartbreak, but you soon realize that she is scheming.

“I know what we will do.” She says on the thirteenth day and you nearly drop the sword you are polishing.

A plan forms. Together, the two of you plot. How do you kill the men that struck down your father? How do you kill a king? It’s decided that you will join the guard. You abandon your engagement. Like that, you abandon your life. Your reputation is ruined and your mother barely scrapes by.

You move out of the familial manor, out of safety for your mother. She’ll still write you letters and you will still visit to sleep in your childhood bedroom, but the two of you agree to keep these instances to once in a blue moon. You move to Lowtown. You know that one of the men you want six-feet under is the Captain of the Guard.

When you first ask to enlist, they think you are pranking them, trying to pull the wool over their eyes because some noble has dared you. When you don’t leave though, that’s when they grow from disbelief to skepticism. ‘Why?’ You are asked. ‘Because I dream of a better world.’ Of course you’re met with laughter. You, however, refuse to lie. You stay steadfast in your plot. You wait for their amusement to die down before challenging the man nearest to you to a spar - if he wins you’ll leave and never bother them again.

That evening, you bring your cutlass and you win your way into the Guard.

After all is said and done you hear a stray spectating guard say to another, ‘She fights like a pirate.’

No one can stop you once you are a woman decided. You spend the next few years putting your head down and doing the work. You become the youngest lieutenant the Guard has ever seen. You are not intimidated by this, you swallow it easily with the knowledge that you are here with a higher calling. The truth has a tendency to make things harsh and unwelcoming, and yet it is the very thing that makes the men here listen to you. They look at you and see someone unwavering in their honesty, merciless with their virtue. It earns you a level of respect that most lieutenants spend their whole lives scrounging for. The world may not be fair, but you intend to make it so. That is seen and that is respected. They listen to you, but more importantly, they trust you. You make it clear that you’ll take an arrow for any of them, parry whatever blow comes their way. When a man is struck down in the field, you’re one of the first to volunteer to tell their family. They start letting you do this by default, your stoic demeanor and steady nature prove to be the exact temperament needed to weather a storm of their family’s sadness. Every time you do this - every time you confront a freshly widowed bride, a newly motherless son - you promise to take care of them. You won’t let their death be in vain, you say. You find yourself caring for all these families as much as you care for your mother. In this way your family grows, and it no longer feels like you are last of your name.

All of this goes without mention of the elephant in the room. Your job puts you in painful proximity to the Fool, one of the men that killed your father. However, these days it seems you’re on the same team in more ways than one. Together you lead the Guard, together you declare you’ll fight in the same revolution. You seek forgiveness within yourself, but your heart finds it hard to go back on a judgment once it has passed. You know that striking him down would be a poor move on your part tactically, that it would scatter the men, that it would lead to a different kind of revolt. You don’t want to tear your new household in two just. So you take his name to that list of names you intend to make your way through and shift it to the bottom. That night you begin a new list, one of additional grievances to call upon that specifically the Fool is responsible for and you decide that you will savor and remember these grievances when the day of his death finally comes.

You’re intense, you ache for revenge, you age for revolution. Those that would think less of you for the latter are nowhere nearby; they’re far off in some ivory tower. Those that surround you are bolstered by it. Each breath is spent on the growing rebellion, each action is dedicated to felling an empire and an unjust king. You are a flame that keeps your friends warm, you are a fire that chases your foes into action.

Living amongst the Guard has taken you out of luxury, out of a life of nobility, and placed you in the thick of a growing revolt. Each citizen of Lowtown comes with their own history, of a life earned through hard work and skill, and you realize that a monarchy is bullshit. Power to the people, you think.

It’s difficult to remember the girl who existed before your father died. But try and you remember. You’ve still got your family crest, it reminds you of the sea. A mutt wanders onto your path one patrol of the Volkun forest and you swear it looks part wolf. You take him in. Two weeks from now he’ll chase after a snake on your hunting trail and even you will say “Oh come on” at the heavy handed metaphor life has thrown your way. In these ways, the world continues to remind you of who you are.

And then, only on quiet lonely nights do you let your mind wander, galloping through the memories back to the day your father was butchered before you. You clawed your way back to the city, clawed your way back to your mother. You’ve defied death once and so hell nor heaven scares you anymore. Buried deep within all your noble intentions is an undeniable truth: you have your revolution, you have your decided aims for a republic, but you would put it all on the line, just to get back at the men who killed your father. You pray to the wolves and snakes you will become a better person.

You are not a revolter, you tell yourself, you are a revolutionary.  

PLOT IDEAS:

Marceline doesn’t believe in kings. As the revolution grows, there are plenty that want to replace this king with a new one. Who will take Septimus’ place? The Emperor, the Chariot, the World? None. Marceline thinks that’s just trading out one cage for another. As mentioned: down with the monarchy, up with a republic! Marceline believes in the ideals of a republic, the same ideals her father believed in, and she wants to work to stoke that fire in the same way he did. It might be a moment before she returns to distributing pamphlets or standing on soapboxes, but natural rights and equality for all citizens of Tyrholm is something that she is determined to fight for. She will try to convince every revolter she comes by of her radical ideas and even when they turn her away, she’ll find a way to stay. She’s always been a woman bad at understanding the word no. I’d like her to try and convince as many people as she can and I think this has the potential to be an interesting plot. Not everyone is going to agree with her and I’m sure it’ll cook up a new batch of allies and enemies. Her father wrote and distributed pamphlets against the king and in favor of a whole new political structure, and Marceline would like to get this radical political movement going again through these handouts. However, Marceline is not the same wordsmith her father was. She’ll do it, if she has to, but I would love for her to find that person to help her write a new round of Enlightenment principles with. In general though, Marceline will be at the forefront for a push for a republic. It’s an ideology that she’s willing to die for. In the long run maybe this even causes a schism in the revolution between those that want another king and those who want something else entirely. TEMPERANCE: Marceline breaks off the engagement, returns the ring that is given to her, leaves without a word. Marceline knows she loves the revolution more, but still her love for Temperance lingers. From where she’s standing, it seems as if her former fiancee has had no trouble moving on and so Marceline is doing her best to drown herself in work and other people. If she could pick one person to convert in favor of her ideal vision for the future, it would be her. But the more Marceline stays with the Guard, the more she sees that Temperance is blind to her own privilege. She wishes Temperance could see things her way. If Marceline ever had to pick between the revolution or Temperance, she would do her best to try and save both. Marceline has left the life of nobility behind, but I would love to see the life of nobility try and drag her back in through her undeniable love for this for this woman. THE FOOL: Until a new republic is built, Marceline still has to live in this monarchy, and there is plenty to do here. There’s her own vendetta, for Marceline will do anything that’s necessary to track down and kill the men that killed her father. Fool kills Dad. Hermit kills Fool. That easy, right? Wrong! Things are already messy as is because both she and the Fool are revolters and thus technically on the same side in more ways than one. Because of this, Marceline needs to find cleverer ways to retaliate against him. Their relationship is a complex one as she is always quick to undermine him, but still sees him as her co-partner in leading the Guard. For a girl who believes in keeping a judgement once it is passed, I want to push the boundaries of her decided vendetta. As she lies in wait, I imagine Marceline trying to be close to anyone that the Fool knows. I’d also love her feelings for him to grow and for her to have to wake up every morning and have to conscientiously decide that she wants to kill this man. I want the Fool to make her change as a person so that by the end of this she’s either consumed by hate for this man or consumed by love - no in between.   THE MOON: The Moon is possibly the only friend Marceline has outside of the Guard.  Every time Marceline ventures Volkun forest, she brings back something new for her botanist friend. There’s a comfort she feels with this one - one she hasn’t felt since her father was around. Something tells her it’s magic, but Marceline knows the dangers of asking about such things. Still, she will do everything to maintain a friendship with the Moon, as she is one of the few people around whom she is utterly at peace. I see them growing close because of the revolution, and I can see them growing even closer if they ever choose to tell each other about their magic. Ever since the death of her father, Marceline has completely turned away from the magical side of herself, but that does not mean the magical side of her does not exist. I see her magic being a grab bag of abilities that she has absolutely no control over. (And per admin discussion, I have some ideas on this.) She feels utterly lost, but Marceline does everything she can to avoid letting anyone know about this side of her. (She always tells the truth, except in this instance.) There’s probably less than a handful of people that know and while I would like this number to slowly grow, I imagine the Moon would be the first. Ultimately, I would like Marceline to come to terms with her magic and see how it influences her thoughts on the war and the revolution. Eventually she’s going to come to understand that her magic might be able to help her take down the king. She might even like to try and travel to Hypatos sometime to seek out mentors. Maybe this is somewhere she and the Moon journey together. Marceline is willing to train up anyone who wants to learn how to fight, be they part of the Guard or not. If you’re part of the revolution, or even if you take no particular side, she thinks you have a right to be able to defend yourself. Just expect to eventually get an earful about some radical political ideologies. Marceline hates pirates and bandits. She cannot stand either of them, especially when they terrorize her Guard. She wants to make a statement to show that the Guard won’t turn a blind eye to being messed with. She’s willing to offer both groups a shot at joining them against the king, but if they refuse, she won’t hesitate to go against them for the men they’ve harmed. In the meantime, any pirates or bandits should steer clear of her as she won’t go easy on them. Marceline sees every single guard as a member of her family and when a guard dies she makes a commitment to look out for that guard’s family. I don’t want this to be easy for her. I’d love to try and throw her up against her own moral compass while trying to stay true to a promise she’s made.

CHARACTER DEATH: Totally cool with you killing my character. My character’s dog however, needs to live forever.

WRITING SAMPLE

There are those that shared his beliefs that come knocking at their door to share their condolences. Marceline and her mother had vowed not to show their tears to the public so Marceline’s mother greets the guests with solemn eyes and a quiet nod of thanks. Marceline doesn’t even make it out of her room. Her father’s death is still too fresh, too heavy on her heart and it’s difficult to be confronted with the fact that someone the world keeps turning.

Marceline is coming up on three days without sleep. Her throat is sore, her eyes are raw, and they are both nothing compared to the dead thing in her chest. She tries to sleep, but etched onto the underside of her eyelids are the faces of four men that she will never forget. She knows grief is nonlinear, but she wishes it would leave for a while and return later when she feels a little stronger. Finally, utterly exhausted, her body gives up on her and she falls into a restless sleep.

There’s a full tangerine moon in the sky and Marceline wakes up in delirious pain. She finds herself on the floor, covers still tangled around her legs. She’s rolled off her own bed. She is still herself though - and that’s what matters. She can see through the haze of pain her hands, her fingernails, the bits of dirt underneath them.

What is this pain? It’s her magic, she thinks, or maybe it’s her grief. She’s buried this part of herself so often, that she forgets about it until it makes itself known. It pulses in her blood with such unpleasantness that she cries out for her father before remembering he is too far to hear her.

She doesn’t want to do any of this without him.

The pain licks up and down her spine. She can feel this Inferi magic coursing through her blood, taking her immense sadness and twisting it. This is in no ways normal, but each time she’s had to face it she’s always had her father.

Marceline kicks with trembling legs at the covers still wrapped like mummy bandages around her body. She crawls to the chair at her desk and grips at the chair leg with her sweaty hand. The wood begins to glow red - at least she thinks it does -  and she knows she is going to set it on fire if she doesn’t move it. She grabs higher, pulls herself up, grabs the curved back of the chair until her feet are flat against the wood floor.

Marceline takes a shaky step, then another, and then she stumbles with the inertia of pain out the door of her bedroom. She nearly collapses as soon as she reaches the bannister of the stair. Her torso hits the wood and the impact blows another wave of fire all through her, knees crippling - she catches herself before she hits the ground but the world spins around her.

She is going to die. She is going to die. She is going to die.

And whatever it is inside her is going to kill and destroy everything in this house. How did she ever think she was going to survive in this word three days without her father?

She must though, she must.

Another wave of pain throws her to the floor. She curls into herself; her sadness magnifies and triples tenfold. Like a wave it washes over her, and then recedes. Here, she will die here -

And then Marceline gets up.

Only this time, it is her magic rising from inside her. It surges through her, hardening the muscles in her legs. She slaps a bloody hand on the counter and straightens up. She breathes hard: in and out, in and out, in and out. As her eyes close, she hears - she swears - the steady beating of wings, as it reminds her swelling heart to keep beating.

She crunches her way out of the hallway, down the stairs, and then out into the garden where the moon hangs low. It is watching her, she feels it. Its light pours over her bloody form with every step she takes. At first she steps slowly, she eases her toes into the cool grass. But then faster, steps more steady, and then even faster, until she is running away from her family’s manor, towards the river, as though she could flee from her sadness.

But she is fleeing towards the moon.

Her magic gives her strength and gives her pain. It roars in her chest now, harmonizing with her grief. She hates it, she hates it so much, hates how it makes her hide, hates how it’s always been a mirror of her emotions.

She remembers her father and how he could look at a burning thing and see the growth that will come after. She’s never going to see him again and there are precisely four men to blame. She can’t stop her tears as she splashes to the banks of the river and falls to her knees inside the reflection of the full moon, which dances on the surface of the water. Her hands press into the sand. She fists the rocks and shells. She is probably going to die. And she should fight it still, but her magic is the only part of her father that is still left.

She doesn’t want him to be gone, and it’s the last thought she has before it feels like she goes up in flames.

Marceline falls forward into the river.

The next morning, she wakes to the sound of the water, as it kisses at her toes and her ankles. Slowly, Marceline blinks her eyes open to the sunlight appearing over the river. The pain is over. Her body felt peaceful and brand new. Three days of mourning and now - rebirth. She feels like she’s just shed her own exoskeleton. She’s done it all on her own too.

A raven picks at the hem of her blouse and forces her to sit up to shoo it away. Tyrholm is still here. She is still here. She breathes in like she needs to remember what it is like to have her lungs expand. Both her magic and her grief, she thinks, are strange, strange things.

EXTRA

A few extra headcanons: While growing up Marcline’s mother would temporarily stay in Noble quarters at Castle Tyrholm. Marceline and her father lived in the Pelagius manor in Hightown. After her husband’s death, Marceline’s mother moved out of the Noble quarters and returned to the manor. Her mother is still Keeper of Coin for the king. Marceline lives in Lowtown but makes sure to visit her mother in Hightown at least once a month. She writes letters often. One does not simply become the youngest lieutenant of the Guard without being a skilled swordsman. Thanks to her noble upbringing, she’s had access to top tier mentors and tutors. What Marceline lacks in size and sheer strength, she makes up in swiftness and cunning. In fact, Marceline’s noble upbringing has left her with a handful of random skills that she is never sure she will use again. She’ll spend most of her evenings these days in the Barracks playing cards or drinking with the Guard. They are her pack. Marceline is slowly starting to pick up where her father left off with his pamphlets. Marceline has a mutt that is probably part wolf... no one really knows. But his name is Little Wolf. He’s her hunting dog (and possibly her best friend.) He follows her around plenty while she is on patrol. He loves members of the Guard and hates the aristocracy.

A few stray musings: Look, I’m not saying she wants to inspire the French Revolution of this world. But... yes okay that’s exactly what she wants. Big Enjorlas from ‘Les Mis’ vibes. Mixed in with some Hamilton. There’s a touch of Isabella from Shakespeare’s ‘Measure for Measure’ thrown in there as well. “So men say that I’m intense or I’m insane.” Most likely to yell “Wake Up Sheeple!!” in the middle of a crowded ball. Bisexual AF.  

[nonasuch]

continued from here, some more of this rambly and, now, less-abbreviated AU:

for obvious reasons, Harry does not get a lot of sleep that night.

he wants the whole story, and Sirius-- without quite meaning to-- tells it to him.

in another life, he might not have done so. in another life, there might have been things he’d been told Harry shouldn't know, and things that he’d simply forgotten over the years, and things that still hurt too much to talk about.

but in this place, and at this time, none of those things are true. Sirius spent two awful years in Azkaban, and five years free.

since the day he found Harry, he has been saving up all the things he wants to tell his godson.

so he starts at the beginning:

“I met James and Lily on the train to Hogwarts, when we were eleven. that's the school for witches and wizards; you'll go there too, when you're older.”

for the rest of his life, Harry will remember how his first impression of the wizarding world was formed: his godfather’s hoarse voice, full of affection for the dead, the only sound in the silent house. the darkened kitchen, the wandlight Padfoot casts throwing his too-thin face into sharp relief.

that light and that warmth, keeping the dark at bay.

when he gets to the part about Harry’s aunt and uncle, he hesitates. he’s plowed through the telling of the awful night that James and Lily died, Wormtail’s betrayal, his own mad grief, and it’s only now occurring to him that much of it was not a story an eight-year-old boy ought to hear. no matter how much of a right he has to hear it.

so he says: “you were supposed to go to live with your mother’s sister. I don’t know why, exactly, but you ended up here instead. no one in the wizarding world knew how to find you.”

(this is only very slightly a lie: four years ago, he and Remus tracked down the police report filed by the officers who took Harry away from the Dursleys. then they destroyed it, so that no one else could follow the same trail to Harry.)

he tells Harry, “in Azkaban, five years ago, a visitor let me have a newspaper. I saw that your aunt and uncle had died, but you were missing. so I escaped, and I found you.”

Harry asks, “but what happened to them?”

Sirius says “I don’t know. not for certain.”

(this is rather more of a lie. he has some very good guesses.)

this is clearly not enough of an answer for Harry, but he is eight years old and it has been a very eventful night. he’s yawning, his eyes drooping shut.

“I’ll tell you the rest, but not tonight,” Sirius says. “can you sleep on the sofa?”

Harry makes a face. “it’s too squashy,” he says.

so his godfather transfigures the sofa into a decent approximation of Harry’s bed upstairs, and tucks Harry in. he turns back into Padfoot and flops down across Harry’s feet.

just before he falls asleep, harry murmurs “you’re my godfather. and you’re a dog. you’re my dogfather.”

this is the funniest joke in the history of eight-year-olds, and Harry falls asleep mid-giggle.

in the morning, Harry wakes up to find the sofa has gone back to being a sofa and his dog has gone back to being a dog.

his mum is putting on her earrings in the hall mirror, and whistling to herself. his dad is making breakfast noises in the kitchen.

but: there is a large tawny feather on the end table. Harry recalls, vividly, watching the owl preen itself while Padfoot read his letter at the kitchen table.

he looks at Padfoot. Padfoot holds his gaze for a long, deliberate moment, and then he winks.

that whole day, Harry is full of restless energy. he and his dad finish painting the spots they missed the day before, and put his furniture back where it belongs. but his heart’s not in it.

all day he is wondering: am I really magic? what does that mean? what kind of magic can I do? do I need to have a magic wand? how do i get a magic wand? will Padfoot let me borrow his? can I do magic without it?

his parents notice his distraction, of course, but they let it pass. Harry will tell him what's wrong when he’s ready to. he always has before.

by bedtime, Harry is practically vibrating. Padfoot flops down across the end of the bed with a little more force than usual, and fixes Harry with a doggy glare until Harry settles.

his mum reads him a chapter of The Sword in the Stone, and Harry lets her sing him a lullabye even though he’s started saying, lately, that he’s too old for lullabies.

she sings, to the tune she made up when Harry was a baby, come away, o human child, to the waters and the wild, and Harry does his best to act sleepy as she goes through the verses.

when the house is finally silent, Harry sits up in bed.

“now?” he asks. Padfoot sighs and grumbles and jumps down from the bed and turns into a human being again.

“try not to explode,” says Sirius, and Harry’s eyes get very big.

“can that happen? to wizards?” he asks, and Sirius has his first really good belly laugh in about seven and a half years.

once they have both calmed down a little, Sirius answers as many of Harry’s questions as he can.

he tells Harry that, yes, most wizards need a wand to do most magic, but that children sometime will do wandless magic by accident. that there are wizarding banks and shops and bureacrats. that there is owl post and order-by-floo. that there are wizarding towns and magical neighborhoods hidden all over the world.

that while werewolves are real, reverse werewolves are not.

harry remembers to ask, then: “who sent you the owl last night?”

so sirius explains that there is one other wizard in the world who knows where Harry is, and who knows that Sirius was wrongfully convicted, and that he is using the Fidelius charm to protect them.

Sirius has not seen Moony in person for more than a year, and misses him like hell. the last time had been when Harry and his parents had gone to visit a family friend with very bad allergies, and been out of the house long enough that Sirius could Apparate away.

the flat where Moony was staying was shabby and awful, of course. even though, years ago, Sirius had given Moony the key to his bank vault and all but ordered him to use it.

the shabby, awful flat had not actually mattered very much to either of them. it had a table where they sat side-by-side for an hour or so, shoulders pressed together, and went over what Remus had found in the course of hunting for Wormtail.

it also contained a bed, where they spent the rest of the day.

and that was all, for year. writing letters helps, a little. a very little.

(none of the above is included in Padfoot’s explanation. that is most definitely a conversation for the future, when Harry has known his dog is a wizard for more than twenty-four hours, and Sirius had worked out what to say without using horrible euphemisms or embarrassing them both to death.)

once Harry has run out of questions, or at least paused to pick out the next set, Sirius says, “we should talk about your mum and dad. what are you going to tell them?”

(he’s read all the parenting books in the house. they mostly recommend that parents should do the exact opposite of whatever his own parents would have done, so he thinks the Muggles might have the right idea on this particular front. and they’re all very big on honesty and communication.)

“well,” says Harry, and falls silent, thinking. “should I tell them I’m magic?”

“that’s up to you,” says Padfoot. “I think you’ll want to, sooner or later, and you’ll have to, before you go to Hogwarts.”

“wait,” says Harry, “if no wizards know where I am, how can I go--”

“don’t worry about it,” says Sirius. “Moony and I are working on that.”

(this is not a lie because they are, in fact, working on it. they just haven’t actually found a solution yet.)

“okay,” says Harry. “then I want to tell them soon. and they should meet you. but, um. you should get some not-magic clothes?”

“what’s wrong with my clothes?” asks sirius, who is fully aware that they are basically rags, but he spends ninety percent of his time as a dog, nine percent alone, and one percent with Moony. so he only really wears clothes at all for that nine percent.

(sometimes, as Padfoot, he condescends to wear a red bandanna.)

“they’re a bit, um.” says harry. his trying-not-to-disapprove-and-failing look is so perfectly Lily’s that Sirius cannot bring himself to disagree.

“all right, all right, I’ll smarten up a bit,” says Sirius. “think about how you want to break the news, eh?”

Harry agrees, and now the day’s nervous energy is entirely used up. he is asleep before Sirius has even changed back to Padfoot.

so Sirius nicks some of Harry’s dad’s clothes from the laundry and charms them to a) fit and b) not look obviously stolen.

also he cuts his hair. it makes his ears feel cold but he does look less like a crazed escaped wizard murderer, so ten points to Harry on that one.

the next night Harry says “oh that’s much better” in deeply relieved and deeply Evans-esque tones, the moment Padfoot turns into Sirius.

Sirius is too happy to be insulted, much.

[david3096]

I thought you liked her. (Tyrus Week 2018 Day 4: Double Date)

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15694179

This was a bad idea. Now, TJ realized. The four of them were sitting with some baby taters and burgers and sodas in front of them, in the most uncomfortable silence that could happen in history. Something was definitely wrong.

TJ wasn't a guy who dated a lot, but he knew this wasn't right. Especially when his date was not the person he was expecting. Even worse, it was a girl. And no any girl.

"Then" Cyrus attracts everyone's attention at the table, TJ hopes this will allow them to feel less uncomfortable. "How was the training?"

"Pretty good," says Buffy, who's next to TJ who just nodded. "Nothing really new." Again silence, the only sound is their mouths when chewing, other clients chatting and the sound of the TV.

TJ wish he wasn't there. And by the face of Cyrus, Buffy and Amber, they all feel the same way.

It all started last weekend. Cyrus and TJ walked together after school directly to the park, then go to Cyrus's house to study a bit and although Cyrus was not a math genius could help TJ a bit. And his only presence was enough for TJ to feel better.

Sitting on the bench in front of the swings was the first mistake. TJ decided to talk about basketball; Cyrus didn't mind at all, but he couldn't understand half the words he said.

"Can I ask you something?" Says Cyrus.

"Is something wrong, underdog?"

"No" All of a sudden, smile. "I was wondering, do you like someone?" The question took TJ by surprise. When it comes to questions, Cyrus could be anything. But mostly it’ll be to ask his opinion about a dinosaur or a movie he had recently discovered had bad ratings and he loved it.

"I think I do" TJ doesn't know where the courage came.

"Who is it?"

"I don't..." TJ didn't know what to say. The truth was the most reliable way, but he was not prepared to make a confession of that magnitude. Lying would be the best option. But his brain, now, did not want to cooperate to make sound a logical excuse.

"It's Buffy, isn't it?" Cyrus smile vanished and stopped looking directly into his eyes, now focusing on the sunset and the few children playing not far from there.

"Yes" TJ took the easy way out. Perhaps, it would take a long time to amend that tremendous and stupid mistake, but for now, he needed the stability of having Cyrus at his side, he couldn't afford to lose him. Not like this.

“Andi said that was the reason you were so good to me” Andi couldn't be more wrong, TJ thought. And if he wasn't deeply in love with Cyrus, he could swear his voice sounded sad.

"She’s wrong" at least he can say that. "I'm good to you because I like you. We're friends" Cyrus smile came back and TJ felt so helpless for not being able to make it even happier and have to lie.

"How about I ask Buffy for a date?" TJ looked away, but he could feel Cyrus's gaze on him, as if he were waiting for a signal to tell him that Buffy was not the person he liked.

"What?" He doesn't know how he managed to not scream. He still had a chance to tell the truth, didn't he?

"I have liked two people and with none of them I have been brave enough to admit how I feel. It's horrible. " There's a pause, as if Cyrus was expecting TJ to ask something about those two people. "And if I can at least help you have a date with the girl of your dreams, I'll do" TJ felt moved and thought that maybe, if he'd told the truth, he'd be kissing the boy of his dreams right now. Or at least He'd be in a less uncomfortable conversation because there's no way possible in this world that Cyrus wants to stop being his friend, right?

"I'm not sure, underdog"

"It's just a date, you'll be fine" and then an idea came to your mind.

"How about you fix me up with Buffy and I'll fix you a date with some girl?"

"What?" The fear in Cyrus ' face was more than visible, TJ could feel it and tried to hold a laugh.

"It's just a date, you'll be fine" and just when TJ was about to tell him that he didn't need to do that, Cyrus agreed.

Back in the Spoon, the silence between them seemed almost deafening. "Guys, today is my day off and TJ begged me to come and spend time at the place where I work. Make it worth." She gave a sip to her soda and TJ hopes she won't say a single detail more about how things went.

Cyrus and TJ decided that Friday would be a good day for their double date after school. But TJ didn't know who he could ask some girl to go on a double date with Cyrus, without being a threat to him. He didn't want anyone to take away the possibility of having a relationship with the boy of their dreams. Even though he decided to complicate everything like an imbecile.

The problem is, he knew perfectly well who would be willing to help him, but he didn't want to.

"I need your help." It was the first thing he told Amber when he entered the Spoon, she was waiting for some orders from the few people who were in the restaurant.

“No”

"I haven't even told you what it's about."

"Whenever you need help, it means you need me to do something stupid, boring or embarrassing." TJ knew that this time, they were all the previous ones.

"Please"

"TJ, no" TJ doesn't remember exactly how he started his friendship with Amber, but since he met her a day when TJ was looking for Cyrus at The Spoon, a strange friendship began.

"At least let me tell you what it's about."

"Okay, but first I have to take these orders" In that moment TJ decides to sit down and wait for his friend, who does not take long to return to his side. "What's the matter?"

"I need you to come to a double date with me."

"A double date? With whom?"

"With Cyrus and Buffy"

"You want me to go out with Buffy?" TJ remembers that afternoon when he decided to tell Amber the strange feeling he felt every time he was with Cyrus and the anger he felt when he saw him talk to a boy or girl at school. And Amber being Amber told him that he seemed to like Cyrus more than a friend. At that moment he realized everything.

"No, with Cyrus" He does not dare to look at her friend to the face, he knows that he is blushing, that those three words sounded rather childish and he can do other thing but scratch his neck.

"Are you willing to give me your boyfriend?"

"No!" Maybe he said it too loud. "And he's not my boyfriend. He just asked me if I liked someone and I chickened out and I didn't know how to tell him the truth. And I don't know where he got the stupid idea that I like Buffy. "

They both looked at each other and said at the same time. “Andi”

"And why the hell do you want to have a double date with me?"

"He doesn't know it's you. I told him we should have a double date. So technically I will have gone out with him" Says TJ with a smile.

"I can't believe you're saying that. I can't believe I'm listening to you so seriously" And there was one of the dramatic breaks that still cost TJ to assimilate comfortably. "And I can't believe I'm going to help you."

“Thanks”

"But you owe me a favor."

"As always"

"Seriously guys" starts Buffy. "I choose to be here with you instead of spending time with mom and dad" Now Cyrus felt guilty. "And Cyrus begged me to be here, too." Maybe he didn't feel so guilty anymore.

"I need your help." It was the first thing Cyrus said on the phone, he was lying in his bed, looking at the ceiling, feeling useless.

"Is something wrong?"

"Yes and no"

"What going on Cyrus?"

"TJ likes you"

"What? That cannot be true! "

"And I may have promised him a date with you."

"Why did you do that?!"

"Because I know how horrible it is that the person you like doesn't interest you. I want to help him."

"But I don't like TJ"

"I know it. But it'll just be a date and you can make it clear that you don't want any kind of relationship with him. Plus I'm going to be there."

"Why would you be there?"

"Because it's a double date"

"No, I will definitely not help you"

"Please Buffy. Besides, technically it will be as if he and I had gone out together."

"Things don't work that way"

"Buffy" said it in the perfect whining for her to access.

"Okay, but the next time we go to the movies, you'll pay everything I ask for."

"Thank you Buffy"

And now they were there, with four burgers finished, the plate of baby taters emptied and a silence that none seemed to know how to make more tolerable.

"Thanks for the food, guys, but I think I better go," says Amber.

"I'm going too. It was the most boring afternoon of my life. "

"Counting the evenings you didn't have Wi-Fi?"

"Counting those evenings." Says Buffy before she’s gone.

They both look at each other and before anyone says anything, they both start laughing.

"This was the most uncomfortable afternoon of my life," says Cyrus, still laughing.

"Why the hell did we do this?"

"Because you like Buffy"

"Do you still think I like her? We didn't even have a good conversation topic all afternoon "

"I thought you liked her"

"Underdog, obviously I like someone else" that's the moment the waitress decides to go pick up the dishes. TJ orders chocolate cake for both of them. "But it looks like you got along with Amber."

"That's what I wanted to ask you" the waitress leaves the chocolate cake and they both thank her with a smile. "Why did you make me date with Amber? It's obvious he's not interested in me. "

"How do you know?"

"We're friends. And because she knows who I like"

"Is that why you smiled every time you looked at each other? And wait a minute, does she know and I don't?"

"I think it's pretty obvious that I like you" Cyrus is not even aware that he says it, not until he feels like escaping.

"Do you like me?"

"It's pretty obvious, isn't it?"

"No! If I had known before I would have told you that I like you" Neither of them know what to say, but they know that they complicated things without having the need to do it.

"Would you like to have a real date?" Question TJ, he knows he shouldn't feel so nervous, but it's the effect that Cyrus has on him.

"Of course I do"

"Now? We could go to the movies"

"I'd love to." After all, that double date wasn't a bad idea.

[halfrican-heat]

A Nest of Stars (3)

Pairing: T’Challa x Black!OC

A/N: Long overdue. I am almost sure y’all have forgotten about this story but if you have not, here is part one to Chapter Three. It’s super long but you all finally get to meet a very important character! So, I hope this is okay! 

Warning(s): Discussions of the black community; Nothing much other than more of getting to know Tiana. Reunions take place in part two; This is kinda long.

Song Reference: Call Out My Name by The Weeknd

Chapter Two: Call Out My Name

"We found each other...”

Present Day Wakanda

The clock ticks quietly as Tiana regards her class with a solemn stare. Today was a rough day for her students and she knows it but she can’t back down now. Debating the strengths and weaknesses of the black community proved to be a hot button topic with her students. She saw a more vulnerable and emotional side of her students today.

Hell, even she herself came close to tears more than once.

She glances towards the clock to check the time. She places her hands on her desk, resting her palms flat. She then scans the group of disgruntled teenagers and a ghost of a smile reaches her face.

Despite the difficult day, her pride is overflowing.

Whether they were arguing for or against the black community, each student showed her that she was doing something right. Even the students who normally shy away from debate stepped up and contributed. Their growth as students was evident and she could see a growth in them as people too.

“We have twenty minutes left. Time to wrap up discussion time. Whether you were for or against the African American community, you learned something today,” She says. “Today was rough, yes but let’s keep moving forward. Are there any questions?”

Some students have zoned out and are lost in their thoughts. Others stare holes into their desks. Tiana arches her eyebrow.

“So y’all are too in your feelings to ask questions?” Tiana crosses her arms. “I’m shocked.”

One of her boys, Ashad, glances around before slowly raising his hand.

“Ashad, yes?”

“Today you mentioned that blacks--”

“African Americans,” Tiana interjects. “You know the term, Ashad. Use it.”

“Pardon me,” He responds sincerely. “When you tell us that African Americans are not as uneducated as we think, does this extend to the ways they speak too?”

Tiana glances at the clock. “You’re talking about Ebonics, yes?”

The boy wrinkles his nose in confusion. “Ebonics?”

“Simply put what you are referring to is hood vernacular. Colloquial English. Slang,” Tiana states, looking at him. “African American Vernacular English. To most American English professors, it is improper English.”

“You think otherwise, though. Don’t you, Ms. Davis?” Ashad asks.

“In my opinion, the term ‘improper’ is misleading and oppressive to African Americans. It implies that the way we speak is wrong and that everyone else who speaks ‘standard’ English is correct. But, in America, who sets that standard of propriety?”

“The white man,” Ashad says, understanding taking over his face.

Tiana nods. “So where does that leave us, as African Americans, in regards to our behavior and speaking? We have no say in what is considered standard because American society was built by us, not for us. The rules cater those at the top of the food chain. African Americans will always be ostracized, even for the simplest things.”

“You think that the standards the colonizers set maintain the racial divide?” Someone in the back asks.

“Definitely. I also believe that Americans will find any excuse they can to misunderstand African Americans. Just because we lack usage of subject-verb agreement and tend to speak in our own special way does not mean we cannot be understood.”

Patina raises her head slowly to look at Tiana. She raises her hand.

“We. You said we, Ms. Davis.”

Tiana furrows her brow, nodding slowly. “Yes, I did.What of it, sweetheart?”

“You said you left America when you were fifteen, yes? How is it that you can still identify with those people, African Americans, when you have been here so long?”

“No matter where I go, those are my people,” Tiana replies. “Are you not Wakandan when you’re in my classroom and in the village and in your own home? Who you are does not change because you change location.”

“That’s why you still use your vernacular English sometimes. Because it’s still who you are? Well, oppression and ostracization is still a part of your identity,” Patina says. “Does the feeling of being ostracized and being an outsider still plague you?”

The question takes Tiana aback. She bites her lip glancing at the clock again. Patina was known for asking the tough questions. Tiana knows the girl means no harm but the question still stings like a slap in the face. Of course she still feels like an outsider even after ten years.

But she would never admit that out loud.

“Uh, that’s enough for today,” She says. “We will continue our discussion of Ebonics next week and then delve deeper into the history of AAVE next week. You all are dismissed.”

Her students talk amongst themselves as they pack up their things. Tiana gathers her papers, thinking deeply about Patina’s question. Her students send her goodbyes over their shoulders as they exit.

“Ndiza kubona mva,” She says to each of them.

Tiana lingers a moment in her packing to wonder where Shuri is. The girl was supposed to come by to pick up paperwork for her brother. Tiana decides to wait a moment for her.

But after twenty minutes of waiting, Tiana makes her way out of the recreational center and begins her walk home. She observes the beautiful and bright blue sky and takes in the normal sounds of the afternoon. The marketplace is bustling as people make their four o’clock transitions from work to last minute shopping. Vendors shout out prices and new items as the customers make their demands and call out questions. Children and adults alike seem to exude merriment and contentment despite the heat and crowded marketplace.

That was something Tiana always loved about Wakanda.

It seemed like no matter how awful something was or how worried the community was as a whole, they came together. They shared in each other’s energy and found a way to celebrate. The Wakandan people always found a way to overcome. It was like second nature to them. Even on simple days like this, walking home from work felt like a celebration. Tiana smiles to herself and decides to take the long way home through the crowd of people.

As Tiana walks she allows herself to get lost in the noise of everyone surrounding her. What seems like a normal day to the natives of the country feels like pure ecstasy to Tiana. She feels a part of something grand and that is enough to lift her spirits. Towards the end of her walk, a few little girls beckon her over to a tree near the edge of the city line. She obliges them and spends time playing with the toys they offer her and braiding their hair for them. They even teach her hand games she hasn’t played since she was young.

When the sun goes down, the little girls refuse to leave without Tiana agreeing to return to play with them again. When she finally agrees, the children disperse. However, Tiana notices one small girl, sitting in the tree. The child observes the setting sun with awe and adoration.

“Omncinci,” Tiana calls up to her. “What are you doing up there? Shouldn’t you be getting home?”

She receives no response until the sun is completely behind the horizon. Then, the little girl looks down at Tiana with a wide, gap toothed grin.

“Do you know what my baba says about the sunset?” She asks giddily as she climbs nimbly down the tree. “He says that ours are the best in the whole world!”

“Does he now? Well perhaps it’s time to return home so you can tell him what you saw, yes?”

“I would! But I have to wait for my titi to return. She left me with the other girls to find her friend.”

Tiana furrows her brow with worry. “She left you? Your auntie left you?”

The girl nods. “Yes. She said ‘Nailah, stay with these nice girls and do not tell your utata that I left you here’. She promised me all the goodies I could eat if I keep quiet.”

Tiana sighs and beckons Nailah over.

“Come with me. It’s getting late,” Tiana says, taking her hand. “Maybe I can return you to your baba. Where do you live?”

“I can show you! My titi showed me a fast way home!”

Nailah drags Tiana across the city line and down the road, past several large homes. And as the houses begins to shrink in size, Nailah pulls Tiana down a rocky path between a few small cottages. The path becomes steep and turns into jagged stone stairs along a high stone wall. Tall trees and thick greenery blanket the left side of their path. Tiana chews her lip wondering where this child is taking her.

But the child is immune to Tiana’s silent worries. She hops easily from step to step and swings under branches and vines in her way. Tiana follows as best she can despite the sky growing darker by the minute.

“This way! Look at the lights,” Nailah calls.

Tiana does she the tall lights that Nailah is referring to. They hang over the high wall to right of their path. As the stone stairs even out into a smooth, flat path, Tiana sees statues of Bast perched between the light fixtures. Before she has time to question them, Nailah stops at a large wall.

“Here, Tiana! This is where my titi makes the walls move,” Nailah says excitedly.

Tiana glances to the side and sees only the tops of trees. She becomes nervous, realizing how high they have actually climbed. Who would bring such a small child up this way? Nailah looks back at her and grabs her hand. Tiana looks down to her.

“Don’t be scared. Titi says that there is nothing to be frightened of,” Nailah comforts. “Look what I can do!”

She releases Tiana’s hand and whispers gently to the wall. Immediately the wall begins to break down stone by stone until a door is revealed. Tiana has no time to be surprised as Nailah pulls her into the dimly lit entrance. It closes behind them as soon as they are inside. Nailah drags Tiana over to a huge metal wall.

“Vibranium wall,” Tiana murmurs. But then she snaps to her senses. “Little one, where have you taken me?”

Nailah knocks twice on the large wall and it slides to the side revealing an exquisite garden.

“This is my home,” Nailah says, releasing Tiana’s hand. 

The girl smiles brilliantly before running off to frolic in the gardens.

A/N: Next part will be posted tomorrow! I have an audition so it may be late but it will definitely be up! I am considering doing a faceclaim/getting to know me for the characters so let me know if you are down for that!

Xhosa Translation(s):  Ndiza kubona mva means “See you later”; Omncinci means “Little One”

Tags: @brianabreeze @royallyprincesslilly @babygirl-bri @blue-ishx @hutchj @laauurreennn @wakanda-shit-is-that @mermaidchansons @reignsxjackson @turn-thy-paige @ask-janelle-reynolds @harry-hears-a-who @airis-paris14 @sisterwifeudaku @youngprodigy15 @thegirlonhamilton

[lovehotelreservation]

I’ll Say “I Love You” Until We Get Along - Je T’aime [4/15]

Summary: Begotten by the gods, Ardyn has sought to return the favor, their precious world to burn. Until he runs into you, a cherished reminder of his past that he thought to have closed his heart to centuries ago. Now, however, he finds your heart sealed shut to him, and he is determined to pry it open one way or another. Prequel and sequel to “The Most Beautiful Boogie Man”

Rating: R

Pairing: Reader/Ardyn

[Previous Chapter]

[Next Chapter]

Hello everyone! I must say, I’ve been looking forward to Fridays, given how excited I am to share each new chapter of this story with you all! And this chapter is definitely no exception!

While this fic as a whole has been inspired by Phoenix’s “Ti Amo,” today’s chapter in particular was also influenced by the band’s “Fleur de Lys”~!

All that said, I hope you enjoy this part~!

*Warning: this fic will contain themes of unhealthy relationship behavior, obsessive behavior, stalking, and somnophilia

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

So icy, so frigid, so cold.

Ardyn may as well have been standing before the befallen goddess Shiva as he did when she was properly defeated and conquered.

And yet, he only felt heat, a burning inferno consuming him from within as though he was smited by the fist of Ifrit.

Were he to go so far as to strip off his heavy coat or the rest of his clothing, he would still feel enflamed, even if he was certain the source of the cold would only intensify until he was left frozen to be shattered with a simple touch.

Five pairs of eyes were trained on him, all of which expressed varying forms of distrust, but none as intense as one.

Amidst Noctis and his friends, all of whom remained apprehensive while they all stood around the famous lookout point of Lestallum, was you.

At long last, staring at him with such disdain was none else but you, his beloved queen who traded the crown for a sword.

Who was glaring at him for his sudden proposal.

"I would be delighted to take you to the Disc--on the condition that darling Venus Fly over here accompanies me."

The rejection was immediate, with the squawked "Waitwaitwait-- What?!" of Prompto, the incredulous "I beg your pardon?" of Ignis, the protective shift of Gladiolus towards your side, and the harsh glare of Noctis with an added "Gimme one good reason why."

A full, rich chuckle rose out of him while he clasped his hands together, his expression bemused, "Why, consider it insurance for yourselves! I can see it on your faces..." Bringing a hand over his eyes, he glanced around the five of you, his tone remaining light, "...a kind stranger with a flare for the dramatics?" He lifted his shoulders up in a shrug, his hands cast aside, "How could you even think to let your guard down, especially with all that transpired in Insomnia?"

His stare directing itself straight towards you, he stretched out his hand your way in a gesture for emphasis. "If anything, I should be on my best behavior around one of the Crownsguard's most capable and formidable member, wouldn't you think?"

The four looked to one another questionably, though before they could ask for your input at last, Ardyn silently rejoiced at hearing you sigh out, "...Very well, Ardyn."

Noctis called out your name, his expression reluctant and concerned. "You...sure about this? Any one of us could take your place instea--"

"Out of the question~!" Ardyn interjected with a chirp. There was no way that he would squander this chance, nor have to bear further witness to your reincarnated self sitting alongside that of Izunia's, all in the same way he used to take you out on spontaneous romantic getaways out of Insomnia.

Your face softened slightly, warmth peeking through as you reassured, "I'm sure. The mission that King Regis entrusted to us cannot be delayed any further, especially over something as small as seating arrangements."

What Ardyn would give to be the recipient of your genuine sweetness once again.

Still, before the other four were given time to contemplate further, he clapped his hands together once more as he hummed out, "Then it is settled! A scenic drive to the Disc of Cauthess we go!"

It could've ended here, really.

Here you were, sitting in his car, right beside him, the two of you together.

Ardyn could obliterate Noctis out of history to hell and back much like his sullied name while whisking you away with little effort, to bring you back to Insomnia and reawaken your former memories.

Even sating the neediest his twisted desires and rampant lust had ever been by pulling over to the side, offering Noctis and his friends the spectacular presentation of him pinning you onto the hood of his car. With your clothes in disarray, your face as red as the marks his mouth would leave on your skin from his lascivious touch and putting you through his brand of exhibitionist perversion, you would look ever so ideal and pristine in his eyes while he viciously pummeled you with his cock.

It was clear you did not recall him, if by how apprehensive you behaved around him while looking so passive even as he switched on his car's music player for some Altissian disco—some tunes similar to those the two of you danced to in the streets during your honeymoon to the city, any words uttered by you in conversation as rare as could be.

He could've done so.

He wanted to do so.

But if he was to truly exact his revenge against Noctis--against Izunia--and everything he stood for in your honor, he would need to be patient enough to delay his gratification a bit longer.

Waiting was nothing for him at this point.

What is it to wait another day when he has already waited millennia?

He wanted to cherish the feeling of you physically beside him for as long as possible.

A gentle breeze blew from above, furthering the sense of nostalgia he felt as he continued to drive. Save for the music on the radio, the drive was quiet, as it would be between two strangers.

"Enjoying the ride, darling?" Ardyn hummed, his fingers tapping onto his steering wheel. You interpreted his action as him drumming along to the radio, when really he needed a distraction to refrain from reaching over and squeezing your thighs with obsessive reverence.

"I'm enjoying the access to the Disc of Cauthess--let's leave it at that."

Your head was turned away from him as you gazed out at the lush greenery of Duscae.

Were it not for the excited thrum of his heartbeat while he remained captivated of the heavenly sight of your hair blowing against the wind, he could hear the snickering of the Astrals as they continued to string the two of you along in their twisted glee.

How much more of a fool would he be made for their pleasure at this point?

On one hand, he could have honestly wept that you were in front of his eyes at last despite your newfound hatred for him. However, he couldn't help the delighted shiver that trailed up his spine and the heated rush of blood traveling straight to his groin.

But then again, he could subjugate you for being so disrespectful to your king and god, or punish you for acting so cold and spiteful to your own husband.

However, this wasn't the time to be morose or even bitter over your lack of recollection, how he currently remained to be some meaningless stranger to you.

While you ignored his teasing, flirtatious remarks, or offered few words to whimsical attempts at conversation, there was a song in his heart--the same one that played on the radio while he whisked you away after your wedding celebration, your chests feeling so light and free while so deeply in love with each other, eager to spend your lives whilst so tightly intertwined.

Terrorizing your neighbor 

I'm a Siberian tiger 

I'll always be an outsider 

Don't neglect me Fleur de Lys 

No rest till I get to you, no rest till I get to you 

No!

His fingers continued to drum along the steering wheel as he drove, lips parting to either hum or even sing along. Never once did he stray too far from the song, and, in turn, he will remain devoted to seeing the fruition of years spent planning and plotting.

Ardyn will have everything he so desired all this time, including and especially you.

In the days yet soon to come, the two of you would be renewing vows.

[diamondsareapearlsbestfriend]

Sans/Toriel 30 Day OTP Challenge: Day Nine

AO3 | Day One | Day Two | Day Three | Day Four | Day Five | Day Six | Day Seven | Day Eight

day nine: thirdwheeling

prompt: “Your OTP plus a third wheel. Is it awkwardly quiet, or chaotically crazy?”

The thing was, it wasn't that Sans was actively avoiding Asgore.

That made it sound like he didn't like the guy, or even like he was scared of him or something – neither of which were true. He was a decent guy, and he'd been a good king – or he'd tried his best, anyway, and now he was doing a pretty solid job working together with Frisk and Papyrus to help monsters and humans understand one another better. Sans was happy for him, now that he got to spend his days working on the school garden instead of collecting human souls; it was nice to see Asgore so relaxed, humming to himself as he lovingly tended to the flowers that Toriel and the kids had planted yesterday.

Toriel, who he was married to for millennia. Not that that even mattered, really, because they were all mature adults here, which was why Sans thought it was great that Toriel and Asgore were finally starting to be friends again, even with all that capital-H History between them. Could've made things really awkward, but it was fine, everything was chill. Sans was just chilling over here for a moment, waiting for Asgore to move on to another part of the garden until he met Toriel for lunch because Asgore was obviously busy. Sans could go say hi, obviously, but he'd hate to disturb him, even though he was sure they'd have a totally normal and not at all awkward conversation about...tea? Flowers? Literally anything in the world except –

"Why are you hiding in the bushes?"

Sans jumped as his train of thought was rudely interrupted, turning around to find himself eye-to-socket with a little girl with blonde pigtails and a suspicious expression.

"I'm not hiding," he told her, trying to play it cool. "I'm –"

"Are you spying? Are you planning something evil? Are you going to steal our souls?!"

"Sure, why not. Hand 'em over." Bad call, he realised instantly, as the girl recoiled in horror, taking a deep breath as though she was about to scream for help until Sans raised both arms in surrender. "Whoa, kid, kid, I'm joking. I'm just waiting for someone, okay?"

"That was a joke? You're not very funny." She shot him an unimpressed look as Sans wished he had 1G for every time he'd heard that – but the girl was smiling now, a worrying glint in her eye as she reached out and grabbed him by the wrist. “But I bet I can help you find them! They're probably in class – Miss Toriel will know. She knows everything.”

“Thanks, but really, I'm...” Sans tried to resist as she attempted to tug him in the direction of the school, but she had a surprisingly strong grip, so his options were basically a. let his arm fall out of its socket (classic party trick, but it tended to freak humans out, which wasn't exactly what he wanted right then), or b. be a big bones and face Asgore, who by now had glanced up from the flowers. He looked across the schoolyard, shielding his eyes from the sun, and waved.

"Oh, Sans! Howdy!"

"Hey...there he is." Sans grinned through gritted teeth as he waved back like he'd only just spotted him. "Thanks, kid. You've been real helpful."

She seemed pretty pleased with that, beaming with pride before she dashed off back into the school as Sans shuffled over to Asgore's well-kept flowerbed.

"Heya, Asgore. Nice day, huh?"

"Indeed, it's beautiful," he agreed, looking around at his handiwork with a satisfied smile before wiping the sweat from his brow. "Just swell for these little guys. Ah, you're waiting for Tori, I assume? She should be finished with class any moment –"

His last words were drowned out by the piercing brinnnnggggg of the school bell, followed by an outpouring of kids, all yelling, laughing and shoving each other as they raced to the playground. After a while, Toriel appeared in the doorway, trailing behind them with an impossibly huge file clutched to her chest. She looked a little stressed, frowning as she glanced around the schoolyard, but her face lit up with a smile when she spotted Sans and he waved her over to them.

"Sorry if I am a little late, dear!" Toriel wrapped her arms around him, pressing a swift kiss to the top of his skull in greeting. "There was an incident with a paper aeroplane...the culprit did not come forward, but I have my suspicions. Ah, Asgore, hello!" she added, smiling at her ex-husband with just a few more teeth than usual. "How...wonderful that you are both here! Oh, and just look at our freesias!" She knelt down gracefully to inspect the flowers, inhaling deeply as she closed her eyes in bliss. "Mmmm. Delightful – they really brighten up the place, do they not?"

"That's just what I was thinking." Asgore beamed, practically glowing from her approval as he brushed a hand through his luxuriant hair, shaking his head so it gleamed in the sunshine. Good thing Sans wasn't the jealous type, because even Aaron would probably feel inadequate next to this guy. "You always did have such a good eye – heh, nose, for these things, Tori. Oh...of course." The light in his eyes dimmed, just for a moment, as he glanced from Toriel to Sans. "You two are...?"

"Yes, we are," Toriel answered, slipping her arm around Sans' shoulders as she rose to her feet in one smooth motion. She was smiling like Nice Cream wouldn't melt, but there was an almost challenging glint in her eye as she looked at Asgore, as though she was daring him to object, and – okay, this was getting a little weird, but Sans couldn't exactly complain, despite his attempts not to look too smug as Toriel pulled him gently closer to her.

"That's right. I do recall Frisk mentioning something to that effect." Asgore kept smiling too, his jaw tightening with visible effort. "Well. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Toriel said stiffly. 

An uneasy silence filled the space between them, hanging in the air like the ghost of exes past. Asgore cleared his throat, dropping his eyes back down to the flowers; Toriel adjusted her reading glasses as she glanced around at the kids playing around them, happily oblivious; and Sans racked his skull to think of something, anything to say before he accidentally blurted out a terrible old joke about being on his way to steal yo girl, which he somehow didn't think would get many laughs in the circumstances.

"Hey – speaking of Frisk," he offered eventually, "didn't you guys just have that, uh, that meeting thing? How'd that go?"

"Oh, yes!" Asgore seemed equally relieved for the change of subject, nodding eagerly. "I think we are making progress. Naturally there is some...resistance, to the idea of a fully integrated community. A few people are still pushing for human-only spaces. But I think Frisk may have talked them around in the end."

"That is such wonderful news! Of course, I did not doubt that they would." Toriel smiled, warm with pride as she clasped her hands together. "That child can certainly be very persuasive. In fact, I have been talking to the school board about arranging some guest speakers – something to highlight the more, um, positive side of human-monster relations through the ages. I think the children will enjoy it, and of course, it is important to build our understanding of one another.”

"That sounds like an excellent idea, de – Tori." Asgore coughed in a valiant attempt to hide his slip of the tongue, reddening under his beard, but recovered as he turned to Sans. "And we couldn't have done it without your brother, of course – the humans adore him. Well, after those poisoning rumours were cleared up...but he's doing wonders for our image. They're very excited about the...merchandising opportunities, I hear."

"Yeah, he's jonesing for his own brand of spaghetti," Sans grinned, a warm, fuzzy mixture of pride and relief growing in his soul. Obviously, he knew his little bro would be a pro at his new job: he had a 100% success rate at making friends with humans, vs 0% at capturing them. But it was also pretty nice now that he was dedicating himself to something where the chances of getting his soul shattered into pieces were considerably lower – not that that meant Sans wasn't still keeping a close socket on some of those humans. "I just hope all the fame doesn't..." He nodded in the direction of Asgore's impressive hedge-Papyrus, watching over them all with his permanently excited smile, "go to his head."

"Oh – to his head!" Toriel let out a snorting giggle, clasping one hand to her mouth and nudging Asgore with the other. "Oh dear, I fear we may already be too late for that! Do you get it?"

"Of course, yes – that's...a good one." Asgore chuckled too, politely if not quite as enthusiastically. "Indeed, as that one seems so popular, I believe that shrub on the other side is due for a trim – perhaps I ought to try my paw at you next, Sans. Complete the set, hmm?"

"Uhhh, me? You sure about that?" Sans wasn't totally sure whether they were still joking or not, but he laughed along a little incredulously. "I mean, Pap's the mascot here. I'm just some nobody selling hot dogs."

"And cats!" Toriel chipped in, disproportionately but adorably proud either of Sans or of herself for remembering, or both, as she squeezed his shoulder. "Though, of course, we cannot allow outside food..."

"...on school grounds, I know," Sans finished with her, with just a hint of teasing as he slung an arm affectionately around her waist. "It's all good, Tori, I left it outside this time."

Asgore smiled at them, a wistful look in his eye as he inclined his head thoughtfully. "No need to be modest, Sans – that is hardly all you are. After all, you...you clearly make Tori happy, and I would certainly say that is something worth immortalising."

"Asgore, please!" Immediately, Toriel stiffened, her voice rising with indignation as she folded her arms over her chest and Sans let go of her, quickly stuffing his hands back into his pockets as if she was on fire, which was sort of looking like a possibility. Asgore's face fell, his eyes wide with hapless confusion.

"What...What did I say?"

"You are talking as though I am some sort of...charity case that needs to be looked after!" she snapped, pink rising to her cheeks as she glared at him over the top of her glasses.

"Tori, come on, you know that isn't what I –"

"I am not having this conversation in front of the children," she cut him off sharply, and with the centuries of history in those heated glances passing literally over his head – plus having absolutely no idea how he was supposed to react in this situation – Sans was starting to wonder if he was included in that.

"Miss Toriel! Miss Toriel!"

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending where you were standing, an actual kid chose that moment to come running up to them. Toriel's expression immediately softened, her eyes crinkling in concern as she bent down to his level.

"Whatever is the matter, David?"

"That dog's back, and he – he stole my lunch!" he gasped, blinking up at her with tearful eyes. "I tried to get it back but he ran away, so Grant threw his shoe at him, but then he caught it in his mouth and now we can't..."

"Oh dear goodness – no! No throwing! I keep telling him..." Toriel let out a long sigh, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her muzzle before summoning up a determinedly reassuring smile. "Alright, my child, do not worry – just show me where you last saw that dog, okay? I will get your lunch back for you, and Grant's shoe, and...whatever else he may have absorbed this time." She cast an apologetic glance back over her shoulder, mouthing 'sorry' before she hurried away. "Grant! Grant! Put that football down this instant!" 

She disappeared into the crowd of children, letting David lead her by the hand. Asgore let out a deep, mournful sigh, staring after her.

"I do not think she has quite forgiven me yet."

"Hey, she'll, uh...she'll come round," Sans offered, shuffling his feet; honestly, he kind of felt for the guy. He was trying, even if he was also making everything even more painfully awkward than it already was. "She's just got a lot on her plate right now. Kids, y'know?"

"I do know." Asgore scratched at his beard, silence dragging out between them before he spoke again. "Sans, I know this is a...sensitive subject, for all of us. I suppose you're probably expecting me to say something like: 'I'll break every last one of your bones if you ever hurt Tori in any way'."

Sans blinked, a startled and slightly inappropriate laugh escaping because – okay, that was just a little bit too specific to buy that he hadn't at least thought it."I, uh, I didn't really think you'd say..."

"I never wanted to be that sort of king. To be feared." Asgore picked up his watering can, shifting his gaze back to the flowers as he crouched over them, brows knitting together in a thoughtful frown. "All I wanted was to give everyone some hope, even when I had none myself. But that is still no excuse for what I did, how I filled the Underground with such fear and hatred towards humans. I suppose I...I convinced myself that it was a matter of justice for my people. I wanted them to know what it felt like, to lose everything and everyone they held dear. After all, I – I had nothing left to lose myself, so it no longer mattered what happened to me in the process."

His voice was calm as he watered the freesias, but his grip tightened around the watering can, veins bulging through his arms as if struggling against memories, and – maybe Sans hadn't been around as long, but he still felt it, all the pent-up anger and frustration and despair simmering under the surface. He still remembered, maybe in some timeline long since erased, looking down at his own hands, covered in dust. He didn't know whose, or how it got there, but he remembered feeling like...

"Doesn't help, though, does it?" he mumbled, almost to himself, but it was enough to catch Asgore's attention as he glanced up to meet Sans' sockets. "Being angry, I mean. It doesn't really change anything. Whatever – whoever you've lost, it doesn't bring 'em back."

"I..." Asgore hesitated; in their current position, they were almost the same height, and Sans couldn't help noticing how similar his eyes were to Toriel's: the same well-aged, tired eyes in a deceptively youthful face. Eyes that had seen so much, and kept so much; that still carried the pain of the past, but also a glimmer of hope for the future. "No," he agreed, the corners of his mouth finally lifting in a small, guarded but grateful smile, "it doesn't. And it is certainly no thanks to me that we did make it to the surface in the end – but perhaps this is the way it should have happened. It is wrong to blame the humans of today for the transgressions of the past; bringing war upon innocent people, simply for being what they are, would make me no more noble than those who drove us underground all those centuries ago. I realise that now. Nothing can ever replace my..." Asgore's words seemed to catch in his throat, just for a moment, and he quickly rose to his full height, blinking hard as he set down the watering can. "What any of us have lost, or indeed that which we have taken from others. But here, perhaps...I have a second chance, to build something better. A future in which humans and monsters can finally live in peace. And now, Toriel is finally..." He paused again, smile wavering. "Well. I won't deny it: I missed my wife terribly, and yes, there was a time when I still hoped maybe we could be...together, as we were. But she has made her feelings clear, and I understand – we cannot cling to the past. Perhaps it is time for us all to move on, as she has moved on with you."

Oh, boy – there it was. There was no jealousy or resentment in his tone, and somehow that only made it harder, but Sans just about managed to meet his eyes, flashing a self-deprecating grin as he scratched the back of his skull. "Heh...yeah, I guess you could put it like that. Hey, uh, just for the record, I'm as surprised as you are."

"Oh, I wasn't surprised." Asgore smiled, a little bittersweet, but with genuine fondness shining through. "I could tell Tori liked you, from the moment I saw you two together. I ought to know, after all – the way she looked at you, I hadn't heard her laugh like that in...well, certainly for far too long. I meant what I said, you know. Heaven knows, Toriel deserves someone to make her smile, and even if...even if it is no longer me, I'm still grateful I get to see it again. Besides, as I'm sure you know, she is not subtle." He chuckled softly. "Gosh – even when she first started talking to me again, it was almost always about you."

"Yeah?" Sans couldn't stop the smirk from spreading across his face at that, but maybe it was okay because Asgore was still grinning too, and since they'd already smashed through the awkward barrier from the start of this conversation, maybe he was actually starting to relax. "What'd she say about me?"

"Oh my – excuse me!" As if she knew – which she probably did, somehow, mother's intuition or something – before Asgore had a chance to reply, Toriel had rejoined them, still looking a little flustered with a stray leaf clinging to the fur between her horn and ear. "Well, the dog got away, but we managed to recover...what I believe was once David's lunch. Not to worry, though – we found him some extra chocolate pudding from the cafeteria, which he seemed quite satisfied with. So, what have you boys been talking about?"

"Oh, nothing..." Asgore started.

"You," Sans said at the same time, and they both laughed, exchanging guilty looks as Toriel raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I was just recalling some of our old conversations, Tori," Asgore continued innocently with a teasing twinkle in his eye. "Let's see...'oh, Sans told me the funniest joke yesterday', and 'it was so sweet of Sans to watch Frisk while I was at the PTA meeting', and of course: 'Sans made us a pie, and it was only a little burnt!' I suppose I should be thanking you," he added, shooting Sans a knowing wink, "as, were it not for you, she might still be telling the same old jokes for centuries yet to come."

"Oh, I see." Toriel let out a hmph, planting her hands on her hips in mock irritation, but she was clearly fighting back a smile as she attempted a pout. "I seem to recall you laughing at my old jokes at the time...although I am beginning to suspect you were simply trying to butter me up in the hope of an extra serving of pie."

"Huh, guess she's got a point – can't knock the classics, Fluffybuns," Sans said with a shrug; Toriel started to giggle, and surprisingly enough Asgore joined in, deep, warm, infectious chuckles, more relaxed than he'd sounded all day.

"You mock me now, but just you wait, my friend," he grinned, reaching over and clapping Sans playfully on the back with just enough force not to knock him skull-first into the flowers. "I foresee many new names of a similar caliber in your future...that is, if you have not already had the honour." He looked back at Toriel, smiling with curiosity, amusement and a hint of nostalgia. "Well, Tori?"

"I could not possibly comment," she answered in her prim teacher's voice, but naturally she couldn't resist adding a characteristically unsubtle wink, pressing a finger to her lips before she caught sight of her watch, and her face fell. "Oh goodness – is that the time? I promised you lunch, and it is almost time for class already! I truly am sorry, cu – um, Sans. Are you hungry? Do you want some chocolate pudding to take home, too?"

"Nah, Tori, I'm good." Sans slipped his hand into hers with a reassuring squeeze, grinning sheepishly at her little slip as he felt his cheekbones turning blue with a mix of embarrassment and a weird kind of pleasure that he could never, ever admit to. "I got plenty of food in the cart – probably oughta be moving on, anyway. I'll see you after class, okay?"

"Wonderful." Another silence fell, and Toriel's eyes flickered briefly over to Asgore, still waiting patiently like the elephant in the room. Except they were outside, and he was a goat, and really not such a bad guy; Toriel looked at Sans, widening her eyes imploringly as if to ask should we? Sans moved his shoulder a fraction of an inch in response, in the recognised signal for might be weird and awkward, but yeah, I guess we probably should.

"Hey, Asgore," he said casually, "you wanna come to Grillby's with us later? Pretty sure he'll get the good seats out for royalty."

"A tempting offer," Asgore observed, with a wry but sincere smile, "but...no, I think I will leave you two to it. I have business to attend to. Thank you for the invitation, though – another time, perhaps."

"In that case, you must come round for dinner sometime," Toriel spoke up. "You, Frisk and Papyrus – a feast for all of our noble ambassadors! It would be nice, would it not, a chance for us all to...catch up?" She inclined her head invitingly, and Asgore blinked, his eyes widening in disbelief as though he suspected he was being pranked.

“Really?” After a moment, he regained his composure, breaking out into a wide, equally relieved and delighted grin, as bold and dazzling as the sunshine. "I – yes, of course, that would be...Thank you, Tori. I'd...I'd really like that."

“Then it is a date,” she replied with a smile, and after a moment of hesitation, moved forwards to hug him, one arm circling around his broad shoulders in a brief but friendly squeeze. She was still holding Sans' hand so he was tugged along for the ride; there was an awkward moment when Asgore's eyes inadvertently caught Sans' sockets just as he was hugging Toriel back. Yep, definitely still weird, but Sans just shrugged and grinned and somehow it was okay, as Toriel released Asgore from the hug and he held out his hand. Sans took it, and Asgore's powerful paw clasped around his hand for a firm, rigorous but non-bone-crushing shake. Maybe it'd always be a little weird, with the three of them stood around exchanging tentatively hopeful smiles – but, as Toriel's hand tightened around Sans' for a final, triumphant squeeze just before they parted ways, it felt like they were going to be okay. They were moving on, all of them, and they'd be okay.

At least, Sans had to admit, it sure beat hiding in the bushes.

[netherwar-rpg-blog]

Welcome to the Wardens, Nikki! Your application for OC PRIEST has been accepted with a Astrid Berges-Frisbey FC.

I cannot wait to see how Efa’s pure and well-meant kindness affects the Wardens! She is exactly the type of Priest we need in the group - someone warm, protective and caring. Reading through your app, I can really see how deeply and passionately you’ve thought about Efa’s personality. It was really reflected in the roleplay sample as well where we see Efa retrieving the stolen goods but still doing her duty as a healer to make sure the thief would not pass away from his wound - but with a stern word, of course! I really like that the Priest who found her was a father figure and introduced her to the warmth of the Holy Light. I bet the Wardens will be the perfect opportunity for Efa to grow stronger in her powers and through that, her connection to the Light, so she can truly protect the innocents of Eldris!

The application can be found under the cut. You have 48 hours to create a roleplay account (cannot be a sideblog) for your character and we will be updating our opening date soon!

O O C - I N F O

Name: Nikki

Age: 20

Timezone: PST

Activity Level: If not daily, then every other day! (Might be a bit sporadic the first few days though depending on when/if I get accepted since I’m apping during finals. As soon as I heard this was open I just couldn’t stop myself tbh.)

Extra: none

C H A R A C T E R - I N F O

T H E - B A S I C S

Name: Efa Hale

Gender: Female

Age: 24

Class: Priest

Faceclaim: Astrid Berges-Frisbey

C H A R A C T E R - D E T A I L S

Nationality: Siften

Appearance:

One could tell how close they are to this mousy character by how high her head is held, by how long she’ll share a look. Though she stands taller than most, Efa often appears smaller than she is with her habit of withdrawing into herself among strangers and higher-ups. Her hands move as often as her lips do, attempting to find words in the air or to coax them from her uncertainty. Biting lip and shifty eyes, she’d look guilty but a different kind of nervousness grips her.

Sometimes, she’ll comb through the mess of her hair, pulling it in front of her so that it falls just enough to cover her ears and the side of her face. A faint scar curves down from the middle of her right brow to just the beginning of her ear. It is almost unnoticeable but it’s there jagged in its healing.

Her most noticeable feature are her eyes, a mixture of flecks of colors against a greyish hazel. With how often she looks down or away though, for a noticeable feature they can be easily missed.

Personality:

- Naive; She was raised on the words of a dreamer and though life has taught her much it has not set her heart straight. Efa trusts too much, giving others second and third chances because she wants to believe in the good in people. This will hurt her; not everyone is deserving of the chances she gives. - Indecisive; Not wanting to be a burden, she would rather give decisions over to other people. When unable to let others choose, Efa worries over what the other would want her to pick and what would be better for everyone else, what would hurt them less. - Timid; Confrontation is not her strong point. Rather than bringing up a problem between her and someone else, she would choose to either avoid them or try and endure it. It takes a certain amount of reassurance or passion on her part for her to voice her worries, her concerns.

+ empathetic; A bit motherly in nature, Efa approaches all with a certain warmth. Welcoming and open, she’d do her best to listen to anyone with troubles or even the slightest concerns. More in tune to her emotions, empathy comes easy to her usually or, at the very least, sympathy accompanied by an apology for not being able to fully understand and share their feelings. + perceptive; Having been raised keeping a keen eye on her siblings and then on her and other’s belongings on the streets, Efa has honed her perception to a fine point. This is not just saying that she can notice things fairly quickly but she has a knack for grasping situations regarding herself or others. Although, she doesn’t do much with her knowledge if it means meddling in other people’s affairs. + loyal; Having left her family once and having been left behind, she’s vowed to never leave her friends or her team again. Efa would rather be the one left behind than the one leaving and so she’s prepared to do whatever she can to help and protect her allies, her friends, and whoever she regards as family.

C H A R A C T E R - B A C K G R O U N D

History:

(Tell us about the important parts of your character’s history. Are they a noble? Or are they a commoner who was a prodigy in their Class? Maybe they are a keen adventurer and want to find glory in the Wardens. Think about your character’s class and the class faction. How did your character become powerful enough to join the Wardens? And what has their story been so far?)

Efa’s mother believed in fairy tales and, for some time, Efa earnestly believed in them too. Irina Hale was a soapmaker and a romantic; Neirin was a traveling noble and bored. He found Irina’s dreams adorable and fancied the way she clung to his every word. Irina was left with an eventually-to-be Efa and his promise that he would return when he continued his travels onward and away. Irina told Efa of the tales and adventures that Neirin had seen or heard about and these filled Efa’s ears up enough that she did not hear the gossip about her or the disapproving sneers toward her mother. Until her father returned to town and they went to see him.

Her ears still ring when someone calls her a disappointment.

Irina did not talk about Neirin again. She married a few months later with some man named Cyrus. He was a tinkerer who wanted nothing more than to expand his business and to raise a family of clean reputation and standing. Efa became the eldest of four: Dieter and twins by the name of Amie and Anna. She stayed indoors most of the time to take care of the children. Cyrus had noticed the gossip surrounding her upbringing and origins and had hoped that her staying in would reduce that. He blamed the failing business on the negative attention that she brought. She did not know this but she felt it.

Efa left her family when she was ten, hoping that with one less mouth to feed and with her gone they’d be better off. Traveling in the back of people’s carriages and carts, she eventually worked her way to Morellin. After spending a few weeks barely managing to live off the streets through minor thievery, she was adopted by a small group of street kids that called themselves the Back-Ally Yarrows.

The Back-Alley Yarrows was created by Lyall and his younger sister, Sylvi, after having been joined by three others. They hadn’t meant to get any larger but they adopted Efa after saving her from starvation. Lyall and Sylvi created a group to be a second family; joining wasn’t difficult so long as they decided you could. All Efa had to do was leave behind her family name and take on one of theirs. Everyone had a nickname or title they were known by. Lyall the Wolf, Sylvi the Rabbit, and Efa the Mouse. She was much smaller and quieter then.

Other than this custom and their names, the Back-Alley Yarrows was nothing more than a group of kids trying to live together. Like the other street urchins, they stole food from whoever they could, they begged for coins the best they could. There was, perhaps, more skill to their acts because of their relationship with one another but no more cleverness than what one would expect from a group of kids. But they had a name and with that came power and confidence. There was a sense of belonging. They had an identity. They had a family.

In contrast to that, the Silver Blades is a small organization looking for profit. Taking more from the market than simply food, the Silver Blades look to steal, sell, or trade. Each member is required to turn in a certain value whether it be from gold, items, or through their services by the end of each week in order to be housed and fed for the next. To ensure their membership, their crimes tend to be higher in number and intensity. Most members have their own connections, people they sell to or supply, but many of the younger ones just steal to meet their requirements. Those that regularly miss the payment are kicked from the group and punished by being scarred with the group’s mark.

Most of the time, the Back-Alley Yarrows and the Silver Blades don’t cross paths but this particular week was coming to an end and a new batch of younger members were getting desperate. Efa had just managed to steal an alms box from a church when she ran into the Silver Blades. After trying to run off only to be cornered in an alley, she got cut by one of their knives and then slammed face first into the ground in the fight. She managed to trip one and escape with the Silver Blades being more interested in the money she left behind than her.

Soon after discovering Efa wounded, Lyall disappeared to presumably take the Silver Blades on. He never told Efa what he did and how come he had come back with so much money afterward. Weeks after the incident, the group disbanded. Efa came back to find their usual hideout empty with no note or indication as to why.

A Priest found Efa once again trying to steal an alms box but instead of punishing her, he took her in. Rheinallt taught her the faith and became something of a father figure. While she was not sure in her own abilities in the beginning, Efa saw that she could do even the least bit good when she used her Light powers to help heal a small dormouse that she had found in their old alleyway. Thinking of it as a sign, she named him Fern and took him on her journey to become  a Warden.

Reason for joining the Wardens:

Rheinallt opened Efa’s eyes to the faith but also urged her in doing what she believed was better. She isn’t sure of what she can do but she wants to help. Efa aims to join the Wardens in order to do some good and to maybe find a team or friends that will stay.

Desired Connections:

Sure! I have no preference as to who; Efa would be happy to help anyone so she could have met whoever before.

R O L E P L A Y - S A M P L E

Screams and shouts rouse your character from an afternoon nap in the busy town. A rough looking thief is dashing through the crowds, huddling a bag of jewels to his chest, and the soldiers are too far to act. What does your character do?

Lavender lulled her to sleep, the small flowerbed sheltering the bench in the soft scent. Efa rested her head against the craggy stone brick of the building and breathed in the aroma. She closed her eyes. Her mother was a soapmaker and their house had been filled with the smell of flowers and bark and the biting scent of lye. The longer she focused on tracing the scent back through her memories, the sharper she could see her old home. The image of it was both biting and comforting, she ran over it in her head like a tongue over a tooth’s gap.

“Thief! Thief!” Yells in the distance tugged her up and out of her dreams. Squinting in the light, Efa could make out a fast approaching figure carrying a glinting bag. The yells had come from a distraught man who had done his best to catch up with the criminal; he stood pointing weakly towards the running man as he tried to regain his breath.

Pushing herself up off of the bench, Efa rolled her shoulders with a drawn out exhale. She picked up a dormouse that had fallen asleep in her pocket and placed him back on the spot she had been sitting in. “Be back in a moment,” She bobbed her head, “maybe. But I’ll definitely come back for you. Don’t worry.” Then, fishing out her dagger from its sheath, she hurried off to interrupt the thief’s path.

The thief kept running, glancing frantically over his shoulder to check on his pursuers. There were none. Efa planted her feet in the earth and pushed forward, putting her weight in her shoulder thrust. The dagger was an afterthought that followed, catching the thief’s side more than anything. Still, his shirt bloomed crimson. He fell clutching his wound.

“I’ll take that off you then.” The jewels shone with the sunlight, glittering ruby and sapphire. Efa gazed at it all for a moment, wondering how they would feel in her hands. If they would be cool like water or be warmed earth. She raised her head and smiled at the rushing footsteps. “No need to run, I don’t think this thief can take any more.” With the mention of him, she leaned down so she could see his face and whispered low. “I’ll heal that for you once things are sorted, okay? Unless you try anything. Okay, I will probably still heal you but I’ll take my time about it.”

[oltnews]

At work is a Rolling stone series exploring how decision makers in the fast-paced music industry spend their hectic days - as well as the emerging ideas they want to explore, what advice they would give newcomers to the industry, and more. Lily previous interviews here. When Justin Lubliner picks up the phone, he's somewhere in the middle of a 45-minute circular tour. It's normal for him. Lubliner, who is not even 30 years old, is constantly on the move - and constantly thinking about his next move. He founded his darkroom company focused on artistic development as a 20-year-old student at the University of Southern California, and then moved him from a marketing and public relations firm to a record label. After a period of consultation for Republic Records, Lubliner met with Interscope CEO John Janick, who offered Darkroom a subsidiary agreement. He heard Billie Eilish sing for the first time in 2015 when she downloaded “Ocean Eyes” on SoundCloud - and immediately started looking for it, then signed it on Interscope. Eilish, of course, is now the youngest artist in history to sweep the Big Four Grammy categories, and she was on a world tour when orders for on-site shelters went into effect and set the industry apart. music locked out. Since the postponement of his tour, Lubliner has been working from home in Los Angeles. Although he is deeply concerned about those affected by the current economic and health crisis, he is grateful for the opportunity to think about opportunities for his intimate list, which also includes the development of acts Oliver Malcolm, Gryffin and Max Leone. He just doesn't used to be in the same place for so long, he says Rolling stone. In general, what is the first thing you do every day?Since I travel so often and only come home for half the year, I try to make sure that some things are included in my day every day, but not in any way. a specific fashion. The first thing I do is wake up around 8:00 a.m. or 8:15 a.m., and I have about 10 missed calls and 100 emails - and an organized, imminent call around 9:00 a.m. I'm just going to try to delete as many text messages and emails from the night before as I'm probably in bed. Waking up to a deluge of emails, texts and calls trigger anxiety?I don't have a ton of anxiety - thank goodness - so I don't mind. It kind of gives me a nice little kick in the ass, because I really have to get on it very quickly. This is your cup of coffee before your cup of coffee.Yes. We focus on working with international markets and personal communication with our overseas partners most of the time - whether it's [parent company] On the UMG side, streaming platforms, various advertisers around the world, or marketing weapons. Obviously, we have tremendous support from Interscope and [Interscope International executives] Nick Miller and Jurgen [Grebner], so I don't want to take them away, but we are constantly communicating abroad. And honestly, we kind of want to be bogged down by people who are a few hours ahead. It makes me really excited when a lot of people communicate with me early in the morning. “You grow up thinking that more success comes from completing as much work as possible in front of you. I fundamentally disagree with that ... It is really important for me that I am not always bogged down in work and that I have a lot of free time to reflect. " Do you think a work / life balance is important?Many of my best ideas come from my thoughts and reflections, and I'm always looking for an idea or an opportunity, instead of waiting for something to happen to me. Very recently, I started to think about how to allocate my time well. You grow up thinking that more success comes from completing as much work as possible in front of you. I fundamentally disagree with this. I feel like if you work so hard and still have your head down, you don't have enough time to research, create and think about more opportunities. So it’s really important to me that I’m not always bogged down in work and that I have a lot of free time to reflect. I spend a lot of time training and walking. Unfortunately, I don't have major hobbies like surfing or jet skiing - even if I like to travel a ton. I really try to use [free time] to learn, think and stay in shape. I listen to audiobooks all the time, I listen to podcasts. I love Malcolm Gladwell. I love Guy Raz How i built this. Why do you travel as much as you do?I want to be the guy who's always there for the client. When they look up, I want them to see that I'm there. In addition, to really break an artist and understand how to market, you need a global perspective. To understand international markets, you have to go there. You have to meet people and build relationships. No one will care as much about your artist as you do, and if you personally communicate with people in these international markets, they will always prioritize the project more than if you go through a bunch of different people. For example, UMG Sweden works with all UMG artists around the world, and they also have their local repertoire, so it's very difficult to get on the front line unless you can build those personal relationships, help allocate resources to these markets and know what you’re doing. I went to almost every major music market in the world, and when I started going to these places, I always asked people: if the artist was local and signed directly in this region, what would be the five things that would you do to market the artist here, not counting streaming or radio? There are a ton of things you can do outside of traditional marketing tactics, and if you've never been to these places, it would be really hard to understand. This is especially true for markets like Asia - where social media platforms are different, the way fans consume music is different, the way fans interact with artists is different. I want to go on tour to help the artist support as well. Specifically, for Billie, many of us will go to team shows. I am still in my twenties - though not for long - I have the resources to travel and I am not engaged in enough things that I cannot travel. I don't know how many years of my life I have left. For the past few years, I had the ability to jump on a plane with a single click if I thought there was an opportunity I could take advantage of - and it was really helpful. I had a phone call with Adele's manager, Jonathan Dickins, who gave me incredible advice throughout this process. I told her about some of the plans we had for Billie's debut album and how I thought it would be a good idea to go to so many markets around the world to help promote and communicate our plans for the album. He told me that with Adele's album, he also went to all the markets in the world. Obviously, given Adele's success, it really motivated me to go up a gear and get on a plane. How did you get started with Darkroom?I saw an opening when EDM artists started playing a lot of shows in Los Angeles. Many international artists were not really represented in this sector. I wanted to help increase their exposure to the United States on blogging - with creative assets and basic marketing - almost from the point of view of university marketing for a student, because it was really the demographic target. This allowed me to understand how to communicate clients to partners, be mutually beneficial to people, and get visual exposure for an artist without spending any money. Finally, we started working with a ton of different artists, discos and festivals. Then I started consulting Rob Stevenson at Republic Records in A&R. Initially, he wanted me in marketing, but I wanted to maintain an entrepreneurial approach. Staying independent and running my own business was at the forefront of everything I did. Whenever I have had a job opportunity, I have tried to turn it into something that I could do as a partner rather than as an employee. So, I asked if I could be an A&R consultant instead, because I had run a blog, I was really intrigued by the search for artists and I had a lot of good relationships with the management teams. I worked with Rob for a year. I had a fairly good success signing some artists there, and I had the opportunity to stay there as an employee. I had just watched David Geffen's documentary and I was really inspired by his entrepreneurial spirit and the way he created his own label. Finally, I had an opportunity thanks to John Janick, who really seduced me. I think he saw himself a lot in me and was someone, as an entrepreneur himself, who would be the perfect mentor to help me grow my business. I didn't feel like I had so much pressure to succeed right away. I had the impression that if I made a mistake, he would be there to help me get up. And how has it developed since then?I've done a million different things, but I've always been told to focus on one aspect of the music industry. At Darkroom, we were a marketing agency, we were a manager, we started publishing, we made brand agreements. This is probably the first time in my career that I have decided to focus on the label. We obviously also do management, but we are really trying to rationalize. We want to use our knowledge in all these different spaces and make it more attractive for artists to work with us on the label side. Because we have been successful, we understand touring and tour marketing. Because we have finished publishing, we understand song development and A&R. Because we run a marketing agency, we understand asset creation and creative development. So we diminish all these different things, we refine as a label and we devote as much time and resources as possible to each individual artist - and we don't sign a ton. To structure the team we have today, it was not a question of having someone as an expert in a field. I don't have people on the team to do something like a normal label. Everyone does everything and helps everything. How did your routine change in the midst of the crisis?it was a good time to come up with ideas. It is a horrible time for the economy, and I am incredibly sympathetic to everyone who is struggling right now. It's really terrible and difficult, but at the same time, there is a part where, because the workload is a little lighter, it gives our team the opportunity to think freely, develop strategies and d 'to be creative. I feel very blessed and lucky. Because I run a label, as long as people listen to music, there is always business. Obviously, the industry as a whole has been impacted, especially with artists who cannot play shows, but for us personally, there is a kind of "business as usual". In my team, Austin Evenson, who does incredible work with Gryffin, uses a lot of this time to better understand the digital world. For example, he is working with another of our partners on a great tool that helps people understand how songs react on / on different platforms and international markets. Layne [Cooperstein], who pretty much acts as our label manager and oversees Max Leone, is busy. Dylan [Bourne], an A&R guy who also does a ton of creative work, has time to find new artists. My assistant Oliver [Jordan] really gets closer to a new artist that we sign, so that they can help. I try to empower and comfort my team, while letting them focus on the things they wanted to do but didn't have time to do. Billie's mom Maggie is working on a great charity initiative [in response to the COVID-19 crisis] which helps support local herbal food restaurants and brings food to places of need - hospitals, retirement homes and food banks. Passionate projects like this can materialize. For the developing artists we have, everything is really digital anyway, so as long as the platforms are supportive, and as long as we have a good strategy with social media and the creative assets are ready, that's fine. I'm not going to release a priority single right now when I can't shoot a video, but you can still release music - it may be a different song that you may not have released or that you really didn't have a good time for. This could attract different types of fans, for example. With some of my greatest artists, same thing. This opens a door to music that doesn't need a video or a huge boost, but can still maintain momentum. I definitely maintain a coherent deployment strategy for all my clients. With each one, there are discussions to release music and musical creation. What is the most overrated trend in the music industry right now?There was a time in the streaming era when platforms focused their attention on individual songs. Often times when platforms break songs - as opposed to artists - people frown. I think you are starting to see a bit of this trend happening with TikTok. These songs go viral and all the labels are clamoring to sign the artist for a ton of money, and then nothing really happens beyond that song. That said, TikTok, in itself, is not an overrated trend. It is an incredible social media platform that gives visibility to creators in a way that has never been done before and should be adopted. Although there is this fight to find the next TikTok song, which I think is starting to have a slightly negative connotation, I'm going to go out and focus more on how TikTok as a platform can be worked to help to show different aspects of an artist. Basically, there is an overrated trend coming from something that I think could be transformed into an exciting new way to market artists. It is How? 'Or' What you use the tool, while focusing on the artist as a person. What is the biggest obstacle you have had to overcome?There is a lot of competitiveness which can give you a feeling of insecurity. Many people are very territorial about what they do and they don't want you to do it yourself. When you are someone who does a lot and can help you anywhere, some people will tell you to step down. But no one cares as much about my customers as I do, and if I can contribute something - whether it's helping get activation with Spotify or a song in a movie, or helping to connect with an international market - I will. There are always people who will be frustrated with skipping steps. I feel like, along the way, there was a lot of frustration with me from people who thought I might have overstepped my limits or stepped on their toes. And as a young player entering the music industry, this frustration can really put you down and make you feel like you're doing something wrong. John Janick helped me navigate through much of this - and understand where I was overtaking or being overly aggressive, and where I was just adding value, doing my job and giving the priority to my client. If I hadn't had an excellent mentorship to help me, I think I would have had a lot of trouble. There is also the number of times people say no. A lot of artistic development involves launching and trying to convince people to pay attention to your artist and their music. You can't imagine the number of noes I got by going up - the number of meetings I couldn't get, the number of people who didn't give me the time of day. It can be incredibly disheartening. You start to think that your perception may be wrong, that things are not where they should be. If you cannot ignore these thoughts and remain confident and persistent, they can really bother you. I would take this negative energy and turn it into positivity. It motivated me. One of my favorite things in the world was a no, because it just made me want to prove the opposite to these people. I am not always right. I made bad decisions. Everyone who said no was not wrong, but when I was hungry I had to turn a no into fuel. ! function(f, b, e, v, n, t, s) if (f.fbq) return; n = f.fbq = function() n.callMethod ? n.callMethod.apply(n, arguments) : n.queue.push(arguments) ; if (!f._fbq) f._fbq = n; n.push = n; n.loaded = !0; n.version = '2.0'; n.queue = []; t = b.createElement(e); t.async = !0; t.src = v; s = b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(t, s) (window, document, 'script', 'https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js'); fbq('init', '204436500352178'); fbq('track', 'PageView'); https://oltnews.com/at-work-with-justin-lubliner-the-twenty-something-who-signed-billie-eilish-rolling-stone?_unique_id=5ea0981d8eae7