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kiribaku-queen · 4 years

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The Blood King and his Queen [1]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.4K

Summary: From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: Hello my loves! And welcome back to another, rather long, series! I had so many inspirations for this piece that I couldn’t wait to share with you all! Be warned, this might be a 20 part series, maybe more maybe less but we’ll see what happens! I hope you fall in love with this story as much as I do!

And shout out to this amazing artist for the art! I am literally BLOWN AWAY by this art! I can’t stop looking at it! It’s so amazingly well drawn. Just... yes, yes, yes! Please support this artist if you ever want art done! Pricey but just look at this art. So worth it! Check out the end of the chapter for the full image without text!

Also!!!! Check out my side blog if you’re curious about what fics I’m reading! You’ll find alot of j u i c y stuff and please support my friends by reading and commenting on their stories as well! Love <3

[next]

Nothing started your morning off better than the princess screaming her head off first thing in the morning. You, along with other servants, rushed to aid the princess in her time of distress. Although, it was never something to worry about with her. It was always something minor, like her hair was styled incorrectly or she didn’t like the color of clothes her servant picked out. Of course, this time, she was making a fuss that her perfume didn’t smell right.

“Your highness, I promise you, it’s the same one,” one of the servants who aided her in the morning pleaded for her life.

“No! You must have switched it out because it smells nothing like mine!” the princess screeched. The princess was so outraged that she started throwing everything and anything that was around her. Clothes, jewelry, candles, mirrors, anything she could get her hands on, she threw it. You and the other girls that just arrived could only watch in horror as her whole room becomes a mess with her belongings, some broken some completely shattered.

You wanted to say something. But you knew you couldn’t. If you stepped out of line or even talked back to any of the royals, you were surely to be punished severely later. Yet, you wanted to say something so bad. It was on the tip of your tongue. Because you knew the reason why it may smell different to the princess. To help your fellow friend in desperate need, you were going to say it. You pray to the gods that what you were about to say was right.

“Princess, if I may,” you started. The princess stopped what she was doing, midair, to give you the coldest stare you have ever received from her. You gulped. Well, too late to back out now. You bowed down your head respectfully while extending your hand to take the perfume. You don’t know why the princess decided to trust you at that moment, but she did. She nodded her head, allowing one of the servants to retrieve the bottle and place it in the palm of your hands.

“I believe it’s because your clothes already have a different perfume on it.” you explain. You pick up a different piece of clothing, one you knew was clean and free from previous scents, and spritzed the perfume onto it. “Here, does this smell like normal?” you offer the piece of clothing to the princess. For a moment, she stares at it, not believing your words. But she forcibly takes it anyway and smells it. The look of realization hit her harder than when she smashed her mirror against the floor. She spares you a second glance before handing off her perfume to someone and faces away.

“I would like to be left alone,” the princess states. After a synchronized bow from all her servants, you left the princess’s quarters and back to your own. When you were far enough, you let out a big sigh of relief. Man, that was scary. You probably shouldn’t be doing that again any time soon. Your friend hooked arms with you, the unexpected force made you loose your balance.

“Your intuition was spot on, once again,” she stated. You could only roll your eyes.

“I was just trying to help the situation,” you explained.

“Yeah, well if only the princess could use her brain once in a while, then she would have figured it out herself,” your friend puffed out her cheeks in annoyance.

“Well maybe her highness wasn’t feeling herself this morning,” you tried to defend her. But really, there was only so much you could defend her on.

“Oh, please, (y/n). You know that’s how she acts all the time. You act more like a princess than the princess herself,” your friend finally let the cat out of the bag. You quickly slapped her hand and checked your surroundings. Phew, no one of importance was in sight.

“Oh hush now. Don’t say things like that,” you scold her, giving her a stern look.

“What? You know all us girls think that. It doesn’t help that you look almost exactly like her. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were the princess instead.”

“Good gracious! Really? How could you say that so loud? What if someone overhears you? Then both you and me could get in trouble,” you warned. You knew your friend couldn’t care less. It was always gossip coming out of these girl’s mouths. That’s how news spreads fast around here. And you didn’t mind the gossip. Actually, you participated in the gossip too. There was a lot of downtime when you weren’t attending to the princess. So what do you do instead? Gossip. But you couldn’t have this type of gossip going around. This was dangerous.

The main girl who caused the princess to get upset, finally left the room. She was visibly traumatized by the whole event. Who wouldn’t be? Dealing with the princess is something else.

You noticed that the girl was bleeding from her finger. She must have gotten it when the princess was throwing glass around the room and it some pieces cut her.

“Come with me,” you gently grabbed her by the arm and led her to a room that was filled with different plants and bottles. The aroma immediately felt welcoming to anyone who stepped in. You went to a part of the room that you knew well and pulled out a bandage.

“This should do the trick,” you say as you finish wrapping her finger up.

“Thank you. How did you…”

“Oh, I learned a few things from the royal doctor. Sort of like an apprentice?” you explained. Being a servant isn’t the only task you knew how to do. On your spare time, you would come to the royal doctor and assist him whenever needed. In return for your volunteer, he taught you everything he knew about medicine. It was still a lot to process, but at least you knew how to do basic first aid.

“Are you even allowed to do that?” the girl asked. You thought for a minute. Was it? It wasn’t stopping you now.

“Well I guess it’s our little secret,” you put your finger to your mouth and gave a small wink.

After properly getting ready, you and the girls rushed to the princess’s side for it was your job to get her ready to be sent of and wedded. And she was not getting wedded off to just any prince. It was the rumored Blood Prince. Ah, yes. You heard much about this Blood Prince. He was the most vicious out of all the princes in the kingdom. Even more so than his eldest brothers. He was rumored to have sharp teeth and eyes that could kill with a single look. He was told to have scars marked all over his body from the battlefield. An ugly being, you imagined. Big, scary, intimidating, ruthless. God, you felt sorry for the princess for marrying such a man. You couldn’t imagine yourself marrying that type of person. Hearing stories about him made your blood run cold and chills down your spine.

You entered the princess’s room where a beautiful, white wedding dress, flowy, magnificent and perfect in all the right ways, was being fitted on the princess. You watched in awe because she looked absolutely fantastical in the dress. What a dream it would to be wear that dress only once in your life. At the same time her dress was being fitted, some servants were doing her hair and putting decorative pins and head pieces on. It was very chaotic in the room, with servants running everywhere, but it was all worth it for the princess to look this way.

You were preparing water for her hands and feet to soak while some of the girls that came with you were deciding which robe that best fits with her wardrobe.

“Your highness looks so lovely,” you commented, gently soaking her hands into warm bowls of water.

“Of course! I have to look my best for a special guest this afternoon,” the princess said in a cheery voice. You tilted your head slightly in confusion. You weren’t aware that the Blood Prince was coming to the palace. You thought the princess was being sent to him instead. You looked up and came into contact with a friend and she was speaking with her eyes.

She doesn’t know. She signaled to you. You frowned.

She doesn’t know?

She does not know.

Your mouth was left slightly ajar. The princess does not know that she is off to be engaged any moment now? This was a dilemma. She thinks a guest is coming. That’s why she’s dressed so much fancier than usual. But when she finds out that she is to be engaged, she’s going to wreck havoc in the palace. Now you really didn’t dare say anything now.

After finding out that very important piece of information, you could see that all the girls in the room knew, besides the princess. The tension in the room was growing increasingly more uncomfortable as time went on. But the princess was so air headed that she couldn’t read the room.

The princess was over the moon with happiness. And it was only because she could wear her fancy and expensive gowns that she can’t wear on the daily. She was skipping down the long corridors, humming a tune to only she knows as you and other servants follow behind her.

“Isn’t this dress beautiful? I feel like I’m in a wedding dress!” the princess exclaimed. You couldn’t help but raise a brow. Well, it’s because the princess is really in a wedding dress. But the princess did look beautiful beyond compare. She almost looked ethereal dancing in front of you like that. As the princess was dancing down the corridor, she passed by one of many large windows that gave a view of the front of the palace. A carriage was waiting to take her away to her fiancé, but she didn’t know that. Or did she?

She stopped in her tracks to take a better look at the carriage outside. A frown laid upon her lips and her eyebrows rightfully furrowed.

“Is that my carriage down there?” she questions. The ladies around you looked at each other, not knowing what to say. But even if they did know what to say, who was going to say it? One of your friends cleared their throat and bowed down to respond to the princess.

“It is, your highness,” she said.

“Whatever for?” a round of gulps could be heard from everyone there.

“For…your trip to your betrothed,” the girl’s voice shook from fear that the princess was going to blow up.

“My betrothed?” the princess repeated.

“Yes, your highness.”

“As in, to marry?”

“Yes, your highness.”

It was quiet. Nothing more came out of the princess’s mouth. And that scared all of you. This was not the normal reaction you were expecting. You expected her highness to rage, cry, scream, yell, destroy everything around her. But no. She was silent, like her tongue was ripped out of her throat.

In one quick movement, the princess turns around and dashes back to her bedroom. And who does she bring along? You! Before you could comprehend anything, the princess had taken you by the hand and now you were running down the corridor with the princess. The other ladies were running after you. When you turned back to look, you even saw a couple of guards running as well. But it was too late for them. The princess got to her room first, slammed the door closed, and barricaded the door with chairs to prevent anyone from coming inside.

“Your highness,” you call, out of breath from the sudden running. The princess didn’t answer you. She started taking off her dress, sending you into complete shock.

“Your highness! What are you doing?” you panicked. She only glared at you while not stopping what she was doing.

“Enough talking. Just take off your clothes,” she ordered you. You bit your lip. You had no idea what was going on but if she demanded it, then you had no choice but to obey. So, you stripped yourself of your filthy clothes and laid them on the floor. While you stood in front of the princess naked, she was getting the remaining of her clothes off. Then, she passed you her dress.

“Quick, put it on,” she said. You hesitated at first. You? Wear something only a princess could wear? But you couldn’t stall any longer. As quickly as you could, you put on the flowy wedding dress while the princess put on your peasant clothes. Banging was coming from the other side of the door, which only made both of you panic even more. If they came in while all this was happening, you would get into so much trouble. As soon as you both got situated in your new outfits, the princess gripped your shoulders so that you were looking her right in the eyes.

“Listen to me closely. You are going to take my place. I’ll be you and you’ll be me until you come back,” she shouted at you in a whisper.

“Your highness?” you began but she shut you up because she wasn’t finished.

“Your mission is to make this prince hate you so much that he calls off this marriage. Then you’ll return and everything will go back to normal,” she continued. It looked like she wanted to say more, but your time together was cut short. The guards had already pushed their way through the door and charging their way towards you. The princess, who was now dressed as you, quickly covered your face with the veil. The veil was thick enough that no one could see your eyes or face.

“Take the princess,” one of the guards ordered. The real princess bowed her head down, faking it until the end. The guards went straight up to you, grabbing you by both of your arms and forcibly escorted you out to the carriage.

And so there you were, on your way to some unknown kingdom, about to marry some man you didn’t even know. All because the princess ordered you to. No matter how much you hated the idea, you couldn’t even voice your opinions to her. You were in no position to do so. Before you left the palace grounds, you looked back, hoping that this was all some sort of sick joke. But the princess was looking down at you from the window, giving you a nod of trust. She trusted you. You had to fulfil her request.

This is how you found yourself in the presence of the most vicious Blood Prince, Bakugou Katsuki.

A/N: Let me know if you want to be put on a tag list! And leave your thoughts below about the first chapter! What did you think so far? How do you think the story is going to go? What did you think about the art? Speaking of art, here is the full image unedited! Are you in love with it just as much as I am?

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bnha bakugou #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou imagine #bnha imagine #bnha art #bakugou angst

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mobagehelllocal · 4 years

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“dati” ver ii - kalim, vil, idia & malleus

A/N: Wah, this got so long I had to split it into two parts ;u; So here’s some information if you didn’t read ver i, and went straight for ver ii!

The Reader, is different from the actual MC of TWST!

“Dati” is a pretty difficult word to translate, because it’s just one word but--it can mean so much. For the sake of this story, you can interpret its meaning as “a long time ago”.

Due to the general premise, the reader is female!

The prologue for ver ii “dati” is the same prologue for ver i!

Link to the concept design for the uniform!

Inspired by:

“Dati” by Sam Concepcion, Tippy Dos Santos and Quest. (I encourage you to listen to it OR read the English lyrics.)

“If You Can Dream” by the Disney Princesses. (I would link both but my posts dont appear if I do that ;u;)

So, without further ado, let’s get into it!~

Other versions: ver i (riddle, leona, azul), ver ii (this)

"--as you already know. We held a school-wide meeting about the week long exchange program with the all-females private school, Garden Academy. Professors Divus Crewel and Mozus Trein accompanied our delegates to Garden Academy this morning,” Dire Crowley peered at his students through his black mask, “while Professor Mozus Trein stayed with our delegates, Professor Divus Crewel escorted the delegates from Garden Academy to Night Raven College.”

Excited whispers broke out in the crowd. Crowley cleared his throat once, then again--before everyone settled down. The Headmaster huffed audibly at that.

“I’ll be using this morning meeting to introduce the delegates,” Crowley turned to the left side of the stage. He motioned at Crewel who was standing back stage with a Garden Academy professor and her students. “Now then, please give a hand for--”

In the crowd, his eyes widened.

In turn, you were pretty excited too. You had held off telling your friend about you coming to his school because you wanted to surprise him.

All you girls had been assigned to a particular dorm, not to sleep in--but rather, to experience. Each dorm in NRC (much like GA), had their own unique culture. So, to truly experience the college meant you all needed to immerse yourselves in the different dorms and their cultures. You had to sneakily reconfirm with him what his dorm was, to make sure you got assigned to the correct one.

And now that you were here...

“Alright ladies,” Professor Radcliffe said kindly, “we will reconvene here at 5PM to return to the dorm Headmaster Crowley so generously set aside for us.”

“Yes Professor.” Radcliffe eyed all of you girls, before she sighed with an exasperated smile. You were all very excited, and doing very little to hide that.

“Okay, I know you want to go--but one last thing,” you all let out loud, false and very unladylike groans that Radcliffe ignored. “Remember to be beautiful--”

“At heart.” you all recited, familiar with your school’s motto.

“Go on then,” Radcliffe finally said, “the dorm heads and their assistants should be waiting outside for all of you.”

With a cheer, you all parted ways.

Kalim‘s eyes brightened as he caught sight of you again.

“Jamil! Jamil! Look!” he tugged on the other boy’s sleeves as he pointed you out to the crowd. “So it really is [Name]!”

“They did announce her full name on the stage, Kalim.” Jamil said rather blandly, not that Kalim was affected by his exasperated tone.

“Kalim! Jamil!” Your uniform--the pale green of House Water Lily, the House of Passion--swished around you as you came to a stop before the two boys that you hadn’t seen in ages.

“It’s been awhile.” You reached for their hands and clasped them with yours--at which both boys blushed. While Kalim gave you a goofy smile, Jamil instantly looked away.

You had spent a couple of months as a child in the Land of Hot Sands because your parents were just beginning to expand your family owned restaurant--Tiana’s Palace--into that country. You had met Kalim, then Jamil because your parents were business partners with Kalim’s father.

It was hard not to enjoy their friendship. Kalim--was fun loving and easy going. Jamil--was calm and attentive. When you were getting exhausted by Kalim’s energy, Jamil knew when to step in and what to say to calm him down. They were perfectly balanced, and you remembered them fondly.

Needless to say...

When it had been time for you to return to your country, there were a lot of tears.

“Sniff... why are you leaving?” Kalim cried, “I thought we would be friends forever!”

“I--I don’t want to leave too!” you shook, snot dripped down your nose.

“Kalim... [Name] has to go back.” Jamil said slowly, but even his eyes were glassy and wet.

“Wah!” You sniffled as you wrapped both of your arms around the two boys who became so dear to you.

“I--it’s not like we won’t meet again!” Jamil protested, as he too began to truly join in the crying fest.

“Waaah! Don’t leave [Name]!” Kalim wailed loudly.

“B--but I can’t stay.” you sobbed. “I tried already...”

(Behind you the adults were chuckling to themselves at the drama the kids were causing... had they not realized they could just ask them to keep in contact...?)

(But to a child, the world seemed infinite. It didn’t seem to have an end.

To the three of you, it truly felt like a final farewell.)

“Promise, we won’t forget each other?” you demanded as you pulled back. The two boys shared a glance through their tears and turned back to you with a determined nod.

“Promise we’ll always be friends, no matter what!” Kalim said. In turn you and Jamil nodded pretty determinedly.

Then you and Kalim turned to Jamil--you waited for him to make a promise too. He flushed at suddenly being put on the spot, before his eyes light up and he said--

“Then we promise--to meet up again, one day? Here?”

You and Kalim nodded vigorously at that.

As your parents took you a way, you all wailed pretty loudly.

“You can see them again one day.” your mother had said, confused.

“But it doesn’t mean I won’t miss them when I can’t see them.” you said in a solemn tone. Your parents exchanged looks amused looks.

“I’m surprised you got so attached to those two.”

“They were fun to play with.”

“I’m sure they were sweetie. Now get some rest.”

There was some time where you all attempted to exchange letters--since the MagiCam had yet to be developed to a point where international instant messaging was possible.

However...

Children were fickle creatures.

Within a few months, you all eventually found something of more interest than a friend from a distant place who you might not see again.

Your interests in each other waned away, until it became a distant, fond and somewhat embarrassing memory.

That is until...

“Hey [Name], did you sign up for the Night Raven College exchange program?” You looked up from the recipe book that you were reading.

“Yeah I did, why?”

“Did you know the model, Vil Schoenheit goes there?”

“Who is Vil?” Your friend gasped dramatically before she rolled her eyes. “Figures you wouldn’t know who Vil Schoenheit is. Come here.” She showed you pictures of Vil’s MagiCam account. There were some photos of the school, and rarer still--photos of other people aside from Vil himself.

Which, you know--if you had a face like that, you’d totally fill your MagiCam with just selfies.

“Oh Sweet Evangeline,” your friend sighed dreamily, “NRC boys are definitely cuter than RSA boys--and I swear I’m challenging all the RSA stans to try saying otherwise over my dead body--” You snickered at her rant, before a certain photo caught your eye.

“Oh is that...”

“Oh holy Evangeline--” your friend began to wheeze. “I think these are all the Dorm Leaders for this school year--” she clicked onto the photo to open the post. Your friend was right--Vil had noted that this was this year’s NRC Dorm Leader list.

“Malleus Draconia-- naturally. Vil Schoenheit--NATURALLY.” your friend giggled in excitement, “Oh, I guess Leona Kingscholar is repeating a year... No idea who Riddle Rosehearts, Azul Ashengrotto or Idia Shroud is--and this guy is--”

“Kalim Al-Asim.” you whispered. If you shut your eyes, you could hear the wind whistle, the laughter of two boys, the joyous shrieking of a girl--and a magic carpet ride across the wide expanse of the sky. Your friend arched a brow at you.

“Do you know him?”

“I think I do.” you hesitated, the sound of laughter still rang in your ears. “I’m pretty sure I met him when I was a kid... when I travelled around with my family.”

“Oooh, you should totally try and see if he remembers. He’s cute.”

“We were kids.” you tried to explain to your friend but she only waved a dismissive hand.

“You aren’t now. Also childhood romance trope is so cute, you gotta let me see it first hand.” your friend grabbed your phone and typed in the tagged username of Kalim Al-Asim.

{”Hi Kalim! Do you remember me? I’m [Name] [Surname].”}

{”Like [Name] [Surname]? Like Tiana’s Place? Yes! Oh Sorceror, how’d you find me?”}

{”Well funny story...”}

And the rest was history.

Jamil took awhile to come around, but you had a video call with the two, and after naming a particular embarrassing moment--Jamil had easily been convinced that it was actually you.

That had been a few months before the actual exchange, and you chose not to tell them about your part in it so you could surprise them once you got up on stage.

Surprise them you did.

The moment they announced your name, Kalim shouted, and Jamil had face palmed.

It was another memory to add to the ones you held dearly.

Now you were seated in Scarabia’s dorms, as you happily enjoyed the grand feast and parade prepared by Jamil and Kalim.

As Kalim flopped onto the seat next to yours, he shot you a wide grin.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am!” you hummed, “I haven’t been anywhere close to the Land of Hot Sands recently...” you put your spoon down and smiled. “The food is really good too! This is the best version of your cuisine that I have tasted. My compliments to the chef for sure! I’d love to take a peek at the recipe.” On your other side Jamil choked, and you turned to him with a confused expression.

“Are you okay, Jamil?” you asked, concerned.

“Hahah, he was probably surprised at the praise! Jamil cooked everything after all!”

“Woah, you did? We definitely should exchange recipes.” with a particularly red face, Jamil nodded his assent before he excused himself.

“I hope he’s okay.”

“It’s fine! He’s having a hard time expressing it, but he’s really excited to see you.” Kalim peered at you curiously. “I am too, of course.”

“Same.” you agreed. “It’s a little sad we lost contact.”

“Well, finding each other now was pretty fun! So I think it was worth it.” You giggled in response.

“I’ll have to agree with you, Kalim.”

You both turned back to the front to watch the parade when Kalim spoke up again.

“Hey [Name]?”

“Hm?”

“This time... let’s not lose each other, okay?” You turned back to Kalim, surprised at the change of his tone. You couldn’t help but let your expression melt into a soft one.

“Mhm! This time... let’s keep those promises.” You two shared a grin, as the parade finished off with fireworks.

When Vil saw you hop up onto the stage, he had definitely been surprised. He hadn’t expected to see you--though now that he thought about it, it had been so out of the blue of you to ask him about whether or not he was in Pomefiore.

Then again he had been busy with other things... So he hadn’t thought too much on it. You were, after all, the type of person who brought up something from ten years in the past simply because you suddenly remembered it. He had assumed it had been something like that.

Vil stood with Rook by his side, his arms crossed as he waited for the Garden Academy students to exit the Mirror Chamber. Once you finally appeared in the crowd, your eyes instantly met his.

“Hi Vil.” you greeted--uncharacteristically nervous and shy around him, dressed in the pale purple colors of House Chrysanthemum--the House of Artistry.

At the sight of you, Vil’s lips instantly curled up into a beautiful smile.

“Well if it isn’t my number one fan.” he raised a hand and began to rub a finger against a purple mark on your cheek. “paint got to your face again.” Your tense shoulders loosened as Vil greeted you the same way he always did.

“Whoops.” Vil shook his head, and as he pulled back he noticed that your skirt and your sleeves had faint splatter marks of paint--and on your wrist--

“You need to stop writing on your wrist, dear one.” he chided gently, though used to your antics, he easily unclipped his magic pen from his breast pocket and began to cast a spell to clean you up.

“Is it that obvious? I really did try to clean up...” you complained, but you let Vil fuss over you--as he normally did. There was no stopping him until he was satisfied. When he finally pulled back, he nodded in an approving manner.

“Vil, did you like it? Was it a good surprise?” you looked up at him with curiosity shining in your eyes, and he let out a soft chuckle.

“Yes. It was a pleasant surprise. So we’ll be spending a whole two weeks together...” he mused.

You were a person he had grown up with, and the person he regarded as his dearest friend. Much like him, you had an eye for art--except while his art focused on himself as a model and actor--yours came in the form of paintings.

Your identical passion for beauty made the two of you attached at the hip. You were the one whose opinion mattered the most to him--because there was no one whose opinions he trusted more.

“Ohoho, Roi de Poison, who is this?” Rook peered curiously at you, he had never seen Vil react like this before...

Well actually he had. Whenever Vil was on his phone--but Vil never explained, and no matter how Rook tried, he never figured it out.

“This is my best friend, [Name]. We’ve been friends since our childhood.” Vil’s lips curled up, “She’s also--” Vil looked at you for a moment, and you nodded. Vil then mentioned your MagiCam account, and Rook’s eyes popped open in surprise. He knew that name--you were one of the most popular artist on MagiCam. Rook knew that you and Vil followed and liked each other’s works, but there had been no hint to the of your relationship with Vil.

He studied Vil curiously.

For someone who was never afraid to share what he did to the public’s eye, you were an incredibly well kept secret for Vil. From what he knew about you on MagiCam--you were a very private person who was never one to share your photos. Why, he knew that Idia Shroud from Ignihyde was a fan of some of your otaku related works--he had heard from the man that one of your quirks was that you chose to never appear in fan gatherings. You were incredibly mysterious.

To realize that--that person--

He eyed you curiously. You were far different from the women that Vil would often be seen hanging out with. As a model, he had a pretty extravagant social life. He hung out with people as glamorous as him and you--

Well, to put it plain and simple, you weren’t anything like that.

“So Vil, where do we go first?” you asked, Vil turned his gaze away from the analytical glint in Rook’s eyes, to smile at you.

“I’ll show you the gardens, I’m sure you’ll love them.”

After Vil had bid you ‘good bye’ as you and your classmates returned to your designated dorm, Vil looked at Rook with an annoyed expression.

“Alright Rook.” the Pomefiore Dorm Leader crossed his arms, “what is it?”

“What’s what?” the other third year raised his hands defensively.

“You kept staring at [Name] earlier with that look in your eye... I don’t like it.”

“I was just thinking... she was a very well kept secret.”

“A secret..?” Vil arched a brow. “She isn’t a secret at all. As you remember, she’s also incredibly famous on MagiCam.”

“No, I do mean, she’s a secret of yours, Roi de Poison.” Rook smiled, and Vil’s eyes narrowed in turn.

“I don’t understand.”

“You never mentioned her on MagiCam.”

“That was by her request. She wanted to build up her own audience.” Vil explained.

“Hm... that’s interesting.”

“What is?”

“I do believe...” Rook’s eyes slipped open. “That your friend is hiding something from you.

Vil didn’t like to believe what Rook told him, but he did wonder to himself how he could miss it.

You had considered each other best friends--yet he never noticed how you truly felt. The next time he caught you (because for some reason--it was as if you knew he wanted to talk to you about something important--and he had a difficult time catching you), he asked you if you could spend lunch together in private. You had happily agreed.

Once you two had sat down together in one of the gazebos in NRC’s gardens, he placed down the basket of food.

“Ah! Vil, it looks really good~” you said, happy.

“Yes, and you’ll see it’s all healthy too.” he smiled--how could he not, in your presence? As you two began to eat, you chattered on about what you’ve seen and liked about NRC so far. While he did listen--he can’t help but have his thoughts drift off to Rook’s statement.

Could you really be hiding--?

“--Vil? Is something wrong?” you put the utensil down, and studied your friend with a worried expression on your face. He felt a little guilty--your usual absent minded but happy expression was twisted with the furrow of your brow, and the downward slope of your lips.

“No it’s...” he hesitated a moment. He thought for a second how you were the first person to ruffle him in a long time. “I was thinking... we’re both big influencers now--in fashion and in the arts.”

“Alright, I’m listening.” you nodded.

“Why don’t we do a collaboration? While you’re still here. We have a week left.” He offered, and you furrowed your brows.

“I don’t know Vil--as alike as our fields are, our audiences can be pretty different.”

“Do you... well, do you not like sharing about me on your page?” Vil hated this. As an influencer, he was used to being loved and hated. There was a time when the comments got to him--but now, he’s able to brush it off with little problem. With you though--well, he was always going to be emotionally invested in you. So, of course you could make him feel this insecure. He hadn’t felt like this for such a long time--and it’s certainly much worse than he remembered. You looked alarmed.

“What? No, no! Of course that’s not it.” you frantically shook your head as you reached your hands out to hold his.

“Then why? I was happy that you didn’t want to mix business with our friendship... but well... something made me realize that we don’t have a relationship on MagiCam at all and...” Vil paused, and you rubbed the back of his hands gently. “And you’re so important to me [Name]. So I want to share that with my followers too.” Your cheeks turned red at that and you looked down on your laced hands.

“It’s just...” you inhaled sharply, “I... well, I know you have a certain image to uphold and--and I don’t want to be someone who would cause people to criticize you.” you pulled your hands away to gesture at yourself. Paint splattered blouse, ink on your wrist and hair--an absolute mess. “I mean look at me... and look at you. People have a hard time imagining we’re friends and--and well... I know the type of fans Beauty influencers can have. I don’t want to get criticized because I know you’ll defend me and I don’t want that to negatively affect your reputation.” Your eyes flickered away, and he could swear they were slightly wet.

Of course.

Rook was wrong.

Rook had assumed that perhaps you simply hadn’t wanted to be associated with Vil Schoenheit. While that was technically the truth--you weren’t doing it for negative reasons. You were just looking out for him--thinking about the best for his reputation.

“Like right now--I really wanted to see you, surprise you--so I impulsively joined the exchange program and couldn’t back out. I was worried about how people might see us hang out together... I’m worried about how what your fans will think...”

However, there was no way in hell that Vil Schoenheit would let you put yourself down like this.

“Okay, no.” he interrupted, and you looked up at him--confused.

“Vil?”

“I won’t allow you to look down at yourself like that. I appreciate that you care about my reputation but--” he takes your hands in his and looks you in the eye. “[Name], you’re more important to me than that.” your eyes water up, and he kept speaking.

“Sweet one, you were always my number one fan--even before my career really took off, you were the one who cheered me on. You were so sure I could do this, even when I had my own moments of weakness. You believed in me when no one else did.” Vl scowled, “So I’ll always be on your side too, alright? It doesn’t matter to me what they all think.”

“But... you really worked hard to get to where you are.” you said weakly, “It can happen super quickly...”

“I am not Vil Schoenheit for nothing.” he said in response, “besides--you are beautiful [Name].” your blushed intensified, and you ducked your head. “Do you not believe me? I know beauty when I see it--and I know you are.”

“Vil... please stop, you’re embarrassing me.”

“No I will not. I will keep telling you this until you know this. I refuse to let someone I consider beautiful, look down on herself like this. Alright?” He reached out a hand to lift your chin. Your eyes were wet, and you bit your lip as you nodded hesitantly.

He smiled, pleased.

“Vil... I’m sorry for not... well...”

“No, I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner. What type of best friend am I, that it took someone else pointing it out for me to realize it?” You giggled at that.

“Well, to be fair--we are best friends. I know how to hide it from you.”

“And you better stop hiding these things from me, alright?”

“Yes, of course.” you nodded, a grin finally lit up your face. Vil’s smile turned gentle.

“Now, how about we think of a collaboration project?”

As you stepped out of the Mirror Chamber, you immediately move in the direction of a familiar blue flame.

“Hello Ortho.” When Ortho looked up, he beamed brightly.

“[Name]!” He wrapped his arms around you, which you reciprocate with an elegant smile.

“It has been awhile, has it not?” you mused, as you let go of him. You quickly smoothened the pink skirts of House Eglantine--the House of Sophistication. You turned your head from side to side and your brow raised as you realized that a certain man wasn’t here.

“Ortho, where is your brother?” Ortho gulped nervously, and behind him--one of the Ignihyde student’s gadget began to shake. Your eyes narrowed.

“Is your brother holing himself up in his room again? On such an occasion? Which requires his presence as a dorm leader?”

“Uh...” Ortho glanced away nervously before he met your gaze again. “Yes?”

“Ortho!” squeaked the gadget, “you could defend me!”

“Sorry big brother... but you also brought it onto yourself.” Ortho said quickly, and your lips twitched at that. “There’s no point in lying to [Name].”

“That’s true.” you could hear Idia squeak from the tablet at your response. “Take me to his room.”

“Alright [Name].” Ortho agreed easily.

“Ortho!” Idia wailed, “on whose side are you on?”

“For once, not yours. Sorry big brother.” Ortho eagerly looked up at you. “Will you tell me some stories?”

“I also have pictures.” you offered and Ortho cheered. You turned back to the the tablet.

“Prepare yourself Idia.”

“I’m going to die.”

Your childhood best friend mourned, and your lips quirked in amusement.

Despite it all, you had missed Idia especially because...

Your lips twitched downward for a bit, before you immediately composed yourself.

You really didn’t want to upset Idia after all.

As he heard you begin to tell Ortho some stories from your school, Idia began to frantically run around his room, and cleaned up as best as possibly could.

After all, you weren’t a part of House Eglantine just for show.

Like him, you were the daughter of an incredibly old and wealthy family from the Isle of Lamentation. In your childhood, Idia, who had always been shy--attached himself to you, when you had protected him from some bullies. Ever since, he just followed you around.

For some reason, you chose to stick around with him--despite how different the two of you were.

He was an absolute shut-in who preferred to play games and watch anime from the comfort of his bedroom.

You were a popular socialite amongst the elite of the Isle of Lamentation--known for your beauty and intelligence. You were also recognized on MagiCam for your love of travel. In fact, you were often transported all over Twisted Wonderland because tourists locations wanted to be on your account.

Again, he really didn’t see why you stuck around.

A lot of his friends when he was younger--those seeking to befriend the Shroud Family’s heir--had given up on him when they all realized that he was difficult to communicate with.

But not you.

Ever since he attached himself to you--you had seemed to attach yourself back for no reason. You willingly called himself his best friend (and despite how different you were--he’d admit that you were the only friend he had that he could consider as a best friend--), which could hurt your social standing because of how insanely beloved you were--but you didn’t care (and of course, you’re also the type of popular kid that could never make yourself unpopular).

Don’t get Idia wrong.

He didn’t hate you.

You were patient.

You were kind.

You were understanding.

Idia definitely had a crush on you, and he didn’t know what to do with it--because he had such a hard time finding something about himself that you might be attracted to.

You were like the true hidden route to be conquered on a dating simulation game. First he would need to find a way to ensure that he were on the right path. Then next, he needed to complete a bunch of prerequisites to be able to even access this hidden route.

Your difficulty level was EX.

He had spent most of his childhood by your side--

‘but why does it feel like I know nothing about you?’ he frowned.

Truth be told, Idia had an idea on why. He had been very selfish with you. Nobody had been willing to talk to him about his interests in real life--except you. That’s why he talked to you about his games or robotics--because it’s different when someone in real life is the one doing the listening to you. In the process of that, he felt like you knew more about him than the other way around and it made him guilty.

He was guilty he didn’t hear you out often but the thing is--you never really shared.

“--Idia.” he felt a hand press against his forehead, and he fell backwards with a screech. You put your hands on your hips as you looked down at him with an arched brow. “Well, at least I know you aren’t running a fever.”

“You--you’re here!” He squeaked, “Already?”

“I am.” you looked around, and noted how messy his room was. Instead of commenting however, you began to move around and pick up his things. When you noticed he still hadn’t moved, you turned to him with an arched brow. “Come on Idia, I’ll help you.”

“Ah... Okay.” He looked up at Ortho in confusion, and it seemed that he was also stunned that you hadn’t gone straight into a lecture about his responsibilities as you normally would.

Idia considered himself a terrible friend, but he wasn’t so terrible as to not notice that you weren’t... well, at max HP. Sometimes he thought you would get angry, but you would instead sigh, and just avert your gaze.

When you were in public (because Idia was worried okay? So he kept an eye out for you too--) you seemed to interact normally with your peers. The fans you had in NRC--were dealt with your normal grace.

However, when you would visit Idia, you would grow quiet--and thoughtful.

It was, literally, killing him.

Was it him? Were you mulling the idea of cancelling your support together?

Idia sincerely didn’t know what to do if this was real.

So one time when you were in his bedroom, you suddenly got a call. You looked down at your phone, furrowed your brows in that way that Idia hated--and left the room.

“You should speak with her, brother.” Ortho suggested, a frown on his face. “she seemed really down recently.”

“I mean... what do I even say?” Idia squeaked.

“I’m not sure.” Ortho shrugged, “but I can tell your concerned brother, so just do it.”

Idia gathered all his courage, and moved to follow you. As he turned down the hallway he heard you speak.

“--I don’t want to marry Adonis.”

Idia immediately froze, and stood in place as he heard your one sided argument--with who he assumed--was probably one of your parents.

Alongside with being the most popular socialite of the elites in the Isle of Lamentation, you were also the most desirable waifu--ahem--he meant bachelorette.

Idia knew this because it was one of the only times you ever complained about it. Your parents were pleased with how popular you were, and the amount of marriage offers you received. You had told him that since you were pretty young, you weren’t really being forced to chose now.

“But I’m sure the pressure will be different when I grow older.” you had sighed. Idia hadn’t known what to say--and the most he could do was put a hand on your back.

“There... there?” he asked, with a frown. He really hadn’t known what to do. You looked up and met his eyes before laughing.

“Sorry to bother you about this Idia.”

‘No, it’s okay! I don’t mind!’ was what he thought, but you stood up.

“Venting helped a little. Thank you for listening.” you picked up your things and stared at a frozen Idia. “I think I’ll go home now. I’ll see you... later.”

He should’ve tried to stop you--but he just... blanked. He should’ve tried to say something--anything to cheer you up. Heck, maybe you would’ve liked for him to ask if you wanted to game a little to get your mind off of it.

“I’m serious mother... Adonis doesn’t respect women--I won’t...” you paused, “I won’t feel safe... I know father thinks he’s the best option but... I don’t really want to talk about this right now. I’m in Idia’s dorm...” you stopped again.

“Mother...” your voice was shaky, and Idia’s hands fisted in his coat. “No. Stop talking about Idia like that.” Idia tensed, and turned his head. “... It’s not about that, he’s my friend. My best friend. I won’t allow you to talk about him like that.”

Idia had an idea on what the elite of the Isle of Lamentation thought of him. They looked at him with respect because he was the heir to the Shroud Family, they also acknowledged his skills with technology... but otherwise? He was considered eccentric.

The reason your family did not mind your relationship with him--is because it brought them a certain esteem. That their daughter was the only one who the next Shroud heir would actively communicate with. The Shrouds were still one, if not the most powerful family in the Isle after all.

“Bye.”

Idia flinched, and he frantically looked around for a place to hide.

“Idia?” He looked up and noticed that you were looking at him with a startled expression, before it slipped to an exhausted one.

“You heard...?”

“A bit.” he croaked out. “Is that... why you were so sad?”

“You noticed?” He frowned at that.

“Of course I did... we’re... friends, right?” you studied him carefully, and he felt like he was in a boiler room or something--he was sweating a lot.

“Yeah we are.” you then slid down to the ground, and tucked your skirt underneath you. You looked up at him expectantly, and he hastily sat down next to you.

“So they’re pressuring you right now.” Idia stated.

“Yeah.”

“With Adonis.”

“Yeah...” you groaned, as you raised your hands to your temples. “they could’ve chosen anyone.. but they chose that narcissistic... arse.”

“Who are the other offers?” Idia asked, and you mumbled out a bunch of names he recognized. Hey, he might not be active in the social sphere, but he was aware on who was who.

“Adonis is...” Idia paused, “well in terms of social standing, I guess.”

“Yeah. Unless someone of higher status proposes, there’s nothing I can do.” you mumbled.

“What about me?” You whirled your head to look at Idia. “W-what--? You?” You cleared your throat, “I mean...that... I...”

“Oh.” Idia blinked in surprise. “No! NO! Wait! I meant, why--what was your mother saying about me?” Your face flushed red, and Idia found your flustered expression cute. You rarely showed that face.

“Oh you know, same old, same old.” you grumbled as you fanned your face with a hand. “Just... criticizing you... and all that.”

“Well... I can guess what she said, and... she’s probably... not wrong.” You turned to him with the same ferocity that you had done earlier.

“No Idia, don’t you dare speak of yourself as that. Don’t you dare listen to the elites on Lamentation. They couldn’t be even more wrong about you.”

“But--”

“No buts.” you narrowed your eyes, and he flinched at the sight of your fury. “You are an amazing person--you’re smarter than they think and you create some pretty amazing things. Sure you could stand to go out more and make friends--but when you’re focused on your craft...” you paused, and you expression softened. Idia wondered what you were remembering. “You are so amazing. I hate how they don’t see that.” His breath hitched.

“You really mean that?”

“Of course I do! I love you--your work.” you coughed in response. The two of you went silent, before you sighed and picked yourself up. He looked up at you, and you shot him the same sad smile you had--all those years back, when the problems of today seemed like distant nightmares.

“Thank you for listening to me, Idia.” you said, “and I’m sorry to bother you with my problems.”

“I... I’m your friend right?”

“... Yes.”

“So please... don’t worry about it [Name].” he looked away uncomfortably. “I may complain sometimes...”

“Sometimes?”

“Okay, all the time.” he said grouchily, and you giggled--which made it all the more worth it. “...even if I complain all the time--you’re still my precious friend.”

You smiled, leant down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

When you pulled back, Idia was stuttering, and turning red.

“Thank you, Idia.”

After you left Ignihyde, he sat back at his computer and began typing out an email.

For you--whose smile was so precious to him...

Idia knew that he liked you. A lot.

He probably already loved you really.

And judging from the way you reacted--

maybe it was mutual...?

Dear Lord and Lady [Surname],

The Most Ancient and Noble House of Shroud would like to extend an offer of engagement between your daughter, [Name] [Surname] and our heir, Lord Idia Shroud...

"Oh no.” one of the Garden Academy students, dressed in the aquamarine colors of House Sage--House of Spirituality, turned to Lilia with a frown. “We’re missing one of our fellow House Sage classmates... give us a moment, we’ll go find her.”

Lilia’s lips only curled upward.

“Would her name happen to be [Name] [Surname]?”

“Yes.” the student blinked in surprise. “That would be her.”

“Ah.” Lilia smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she’s fine. I’m sure he’s gone to find her already.”

The Garden Academy students shared a glance.

The most Malleus knew was that majority of the Student Body had gone off to the Mirror Chamber for some event. He didn’t know, after all, he hadn’t been invited.

So he had decided to go on a long walk, internally unamused that he was once more forgotten when he sensed it--

Your presence.

It was in the gentle caress of the wind against his face, in the rustle of the leaves, and in the soft warmth of the sun.

One moment he was incredibly unhappy, and in the next second--he felt your magic touch his.

It was like a ripple--and it soothed his entire being.

You and your magic--he wondered if you knew the extent of your effect on him.

He began to walk deep into the forest.

He paused in his step as he caught sight of you. You had sat down in a patch of sunlight in the small meadow. You were surrounded by some creatures of the forest--from bears to deers and rabbits. You looked completely serene--as you should--after all, you were one of the most powerful nature fae living. Coming from your head were horns--but nothing like his. Yours were shorter, and much more like tree branches. As you hummed idly to yourself, a few birds fluttered forward and decorated your horns with small flowers. Your smile brightened the clearing, and the birds--pleased--chirped a song that you instantly began to hum along with.

How he wished he could draw closer to you without disrupting the peace--animals didn’t do well with Malleus. They inherently knew how powerful he was--and though the same could be said about what they sensed from you--your powers were much more attuned to nature in itself. To be by your side--it would be peace for the animals.

‘ He could understand. By your side, there were no pressures to be anyone else other than himself.’

As he stepped into the clearing, all the animals turned to look at him, and tensed. You blinked in surprise at their actions, before you turned your head to see Malleus at the far edge of the small clearing you were in.

“Mal.” you greeted, your startled expression slipped into a sweet, happy one. “It has been a long time.” Malleus inclined his head. “Won’t you come close, dear friend?” you raised a hand, beckoning him to come closer.

He eyed the animals around you warily.

“I don’t think they will enjoy that.” You let out a soft laugh at his deadpanned statement. Your laugh seemed to instantly calm most of the animals down (he could feel his tensed shoulders unknot too). You looked around you and began to speak to them.

“Now now everyone--Mal is a dear friend. I grew up with him. He’s a good person. Won’t you all please be patient with him?” The animals around you shuffled uneasily.

You looked up again and gestured for Malleus to draw closer once more. Malleus approached slowly at first, and once he realized that none of the animals would be disrupted, easily slid down beside you. One of the male deers leaned forward to sniff him--and Malleus held as still as possible. Apparently satisfied, the deer relaxed beside Malleus. Around him, the animals slipped back to their relaxed states.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” One particularly ambitious rabbit hopped up onto your lap and peered inquisitively at Malleus. You smiled, and began to brush your fingers through the animal’s hair.

“[Name], not that I’m unhappy to see you but...” He began, “what are you doing here?”

“My school, the Garden Academy is having an exchange program with your school.” you peered up curiously at your childhood friend. “Did you not hear?”

“As per usual, I do believe people have forgotten to inform me.” he frowned slightly. “Then... this would be the event being held at the Mirror Chamber, then?” You nodded.

“The event should still be ongoing.” Malleus eyed you curiously, but you spread your arms wide in response.

“The trees told me that some creatures were excited to see me.” You said--and the animals all made noises of agreement, “so I thought to visit them already.”

“Will your classmates and teacher not worry then?” You giggled at his questions.

“I appreciate the concern Mal but.. there’s nothing here that can harm me.” you said simply, and he hummed in acknowledgement--you were right.

You were perhaps the one person Malleus could consider an equal.

You had grown up side by side--and he was more than aware of your power and capabilities.

If there was one person who knew him as well as Lilia--it was you. You had seen him at his best and his worst--you were there when he could barely control his own magical power. He hadn’t been good at dampening his own energy back then--nobody ever approached him out of fear for the amount of power he had. The only one who bothered to interact with him had been Lilia, who had been his designated caretaker and...

And you.

You had no reason to be by his side when he had been his most volatile.

But you had been there.

And you stuck by him with no hesitation.

“How about you?” You glanced at the dragon fae from the edge of your eye.

“Ah. I wasn’t invited.” he answered with a sigh, and you could see the discontent in the almost, unnoticeable, wrinkle between his brows. You--who knew him so well--could spot the tiniest giveaways to Malleus’s moods--it was a skill you were proud of.

You were someone who occupied an almost identical role to Malleus. All that differs from the two of you is the type of magic you possessed.

As a dragon fae, and a descendant of the Witch of Thorns--it was easy to predict the type of power Malleus would eventually manifest. Draconic transformation and dark magic. This made people fear him, and dislike interacting with him.

As a nature fae, and a descendant of the Spirit of the Willow--most knew that you would grow to have power attuned with nature. It explained why you could speak the language of the trees and flowers--why animals adored you. To others--people saw you as harmless.

Perhaps in the beginning, you hadn’t really thought too much of your similarities. As years passed however--you realized how unfair the world was to Malleus.

They never saw the boy who sneezed and set Lilia’s hair on fire, they never acknowledged the man who treasured his Gao Gao Dragon toy--because it adored him as is. They didn’t allow Malleus to make mistakes, they didn’t allow Malleus to be vulnerable. They refused to see past this idea of a strong magician and the title of prince.

You reached forward and cupped his cheek. He turned to look at you quizzically.

“Then... should we have our own event?” You smiled, a tad bit more mischievous. You looked down at the animals. “Would you be willing to help out, my friends?”

The bunny in your lap twitched its nose in response, and a lot of the animals eagerly leaned closer.

“An event, like a party--to celebrate our reunion?” You glanced at Malleus to see him look on in curiosity. It seemed like the animals understood the idea of a party and began to move. You noticed the the female animals were the ones who specifically pulled you away, and when you glanced at Malleus--you noticed the the male animals began to surround him. He shot you a desperate look, but you only laughed.

“Let’s have fun!”

The male animals had weaved flowers together on top of Malleus’s head. Another animal had gotten several leaves, and put them together to form a long cape. He had no idea how the animals were doing it--but he just assumed it was because you were magic.

One of the birds flew over, and chirped loudly--which the animals took as a sort of signal. They all stopped and studied what they had done to Malleus. They began to make displeased noises, until one of the deers pushed a long stick towards Malleus. When he picked it up, he looked to the animals to see that they were all still unsatisfied. To humor them, He unclipped his pen from his breast pocket and waved it. He used the foliage that had fallen to the ground to decorate the stick--and craft it into a staff similar to his own.

“Is it good?” he asked, and the animals all vigorously gave their assent. At that, he could feel his lips curl up. The bird chirped again, and the animals snapped into action. One of the bucks nudge Malleus forward with his snout. “Ah, is it time to go back?” the birds make a pleasant chirping sound, and he allowed himself to be pushed back into the clearing.

He found himself in the clearing again--with all the male animals standing by his side. He thought briefly of what an amusing sight this probably was, until another bird chirped from the opposite side of the clearing. He raised his gaze that way, as a bunch of female birds flew in, and dropped flower petals onto the ground. The smaller animals came in first, followed by the younger fauns--and finally--

You stepped forth into the light of the clearing, and he found his breath caught in his throat. While the flowers on his form were restricted to his crown--the animals had chosen to decorate your whole form with it. Unlike the flower crown you were wearing earlier--this one had a train that fell to the ground, and billowed around you--making you all the more ethereal. Escorted on either side by the tall, elegant form of does--you resembled the idea of a Fae Queen with her animal court. As you came to a stop beside Malleus, you giggled at his surprised expression. He felt something tug on his pants, and when he looked down--he found a squirrel made exaggerated gestures towards you.

“Ah.” he looked up and met your curious gaze. “You look beautiful, [Name].” And he did mean it--for the centuries that he had known you, and the centuries he had yet to share with you--he knew that one thing would remain constant--the way you made his heart skip a beat, and the way you were beauty in everything you did.

“Thank you, Malleus. You look handsome” you blushed. That’s when you were both nudged forward by the deers, and were now much closer. One of the deers, snatched the staff in his hand. The birds fluttered around you, pulling your sleeves into place until finally--both you and Malleus were moved to a waltz pose. You stared into each other’s eyes, stunned. Malleus wondered briefly is animals were truly capable of sensing feelings he had--that even he had yet to fully comprehend.

“Shall we?” he offered, and you beamed in response. The birds began to sing, and the two of you proceeded to dance in the clearing.

“I think they enjoyed themselves, too much.”

“Did you have fun?” Malleus asked gently, and you smiled.

“I did but...” you curiously peered up at him. “Did you have fun?”

“I suppose I did.” He mused.

The other animals watched on--pleased.

Though neither of you saw it--blissfully caught up in enjoying your dance--they did. They could see the future King and Queen of Faeries.

#aiwrites #aiscenarios #ai dati series #ai tga verse #female reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst scenarios #twst kalim #twst vil #twst idia #twst malleus

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testingtwns · 5 years

Text

I finished the really really long original stuck sneeze story at last

HEY LOOK I DID IT !

Sorry this took so long. I made two posts before this to say it was coming soon, which was in order to garner interest and hopefully drum up my own interest in the process. Well, it totally backfired, and I intimidated myself into not writing at all. So, thank you for your patience with me!

Considering that this is a 13k-word stuck sneeze story, it’s like 98% build-up, so instead of being posted in parts, it’s all here. Not gonna leave anyone hangin’ without the part where sneezing actually happens. Since that’s why we’re all here I mean duh

Well... enjoy I guess !

It started at noon on a calm summer day. The royal family ate in the solarium, as they always did at mealtime, with the head of the table taken by Queen Cveta, heir apparent Arkady to her left, and the rest of the princes and princesses continuing in birth order down the line, all except for Vjera. Each window of the glass room was so perfectly clear as to be nearly invisible, giving a great view of the flourishing garden and all the curious creatures that it attracted. Hummingbirds and dragonflies and honeybees and swallowtails dipped and dove among the fauna, making for a very theatrical view, as it so often did. In the fall, there were deer; in the winter, ptarmigans and cardinals; and in the spring the deer came back, bringing with them their knobby fawns. Zlata and Pedja were hoping to see a set of those soft brown ears peering above the heather today, but the eldest siblings ate rather quietly, somewhat subdued. They knew they were supposed to be happy, but it was hard to say goodbye to one of their own.

Svetlana scooted boiled cabbage around her plate with her fork, and Dmitar leaned one elbow on the table and slouched a bit, totally forgetting his manners. As the eldest sibling, Arkady could not allow his sadness to be so easily observed, especially in front of the kitchen attendants bringing sweetbreads to and from the table. It would not do well for the next-in-line to seem disappointed about his sister's betrothal to the prince of a neighboring kingdom. But soon that was no longer the thought at the forefront of Arkady’s mind.

He had just filled his mouth with a sip of cold honey tea when a desire to sneeze hit him with startling urgency. Arkady's eyes widened before clamping shut, and he hastened to swallow before the squirming tickle at the roof of his mouth could win out. He had been groomed to have the best of manners, to keep from sneezing during meals, but this tickle was unusually urgent, and it wasn’t going to let him have a say. Arkady acted fast. One hand sloppily placed the glass back down, the other ushered his napkin to his face as he turned away from the table. He inhaled loudly once, twice, three times, and held the cloth tightly to his nose, sure whatever was coming would be impressive…

“Hhhtt-!”

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

For a moment, his whole body seemed to stall. Then, just as quickly as it came on, the sneeze disappeared, leaving nothing but the burning embers of an itch that hadn’t been soothed. Arkady sniffed, hoping to either fan the little flame or blow it out, but it wouldn’t be tempted in either direction. He could only blink in puzzlement, and at the tears that had started in the corners of his eyes, formed by unrealized desire.

When he lowered his hands, his whole family was staring at him from their individual places at the table, spoons or forks halfway to their mouths.

“Uh,” Arkady began, mildly sheepish as he returned the unused napkin to his lap, “I thought I was going to sneeze.”

“We all did,” said Zlata. “Why didn’t you?”

“It would have been good luck,” Pedja piped up.

“I was trying to,” Arkady insisted, almost defensively. “I would have liked to.” He kneaded the side of his nose hard with one knuckle. “It still feels as if I might.” Indeed, as those words left him, his mouth began to quiver open when the faint sensation twitched back to life. Both hands secured the napkin around his nose, and his eyelids squeezed together, and his insides felt like they were buzzing with anticipation, and—no. It still wasn’t to be. Arkady came down from the sneeze with a long sigh and blew his nose, which didn’t help much. His eyelashes were already damp from the tickle alone.

His brothers and sisters were staring at him again, strangely but clearly also fascinated for the conclusion to this little breakfast drama. It was Svetlana who glanced fervidly around the table in search of a solution. “Maybe there’s something spicy around here you can eat. Or something strong you can smell.”

“Hold on, now. Don’t provoke it.” It was their mother, Queen Cveta, who spoke now. “This could be Ilari’s doing.”

Arkady’s eyebrows slouched. “Or maybe I just have to sneeze, and I can’t d… do ihht…” The tickle struck a third time in as many minutes, and Arkady couldn’t pay attention to anything else. Cloth napkin around his face again, his family became colorful blurs before his eyes. They were all watching unabashedly… Embarrassed, he ducked into the cloth to hide. Gasp… gasp… Huff. No.

He raised his head blearily and narrowed his gaze. “Could you all at least have the courtesy not to stare at me?”

“Why?” said Pedja innocently. Staring was among his favorite hobbies.

“Because it’s impolite,” Arkady said. When Pedja only continued to gaze at him, he added flatly, “And if you stare for too long, your eyes will dry up and fall out of your head, and birds will come and eat them.”

“Wow,” said Pedja.

“That’s enough of that. This may be serious,” Queen Cveta continued calmly. “Sneezing is a sign of good health and good fortune, and protection from the gods. It is usual to be able to sneeze—the opposite is not. This could be a message.” There was only slight worry in her steady look, but she was adamant when she told him, “Go to Jaga, and ask her what it might mean. She will be able to tell you.”

Arkady looked at his plate of rolls and boiled potato salad and pork aspic, which was only halfway finished. “I’d sort of rather try my luck with some spicy food,” he said.

“Go to Jaga,” Queen Cveta repeated.

It was a lost cause. Even if he was next in line for the throne, she was the Queen, and the Queen’s word was second only to the gods’. Sighing, Arkady stood to leave, but his sigh turned into a sharp snaggle of breath, and another, and another, and another, and as Arkady gripped the top of his chair desperately for support, the whole morning seemed to go silent waiting for his sneeze... but still it eluded him. Arkady’s brothers and sisters made a collective sound of discouragement on his behalf.

“If you think it’s annoying for you,” he said, touchy and a little flushed, “just think of how annoying it is for me!”

He exited directly into the garden, following the stepping stones towards the footbridges that connected each of the Peaks, like their own mountainous islands. Each individual peak hosted its own type of building: guesthouses, greenhouses, the royal family’s grounds, and the outbuildings, such as the one where Jaga lived. Each member of the royal entourage lived within the sanctuary walls; they were like family to Arkady, and they loved him as much as he loved them. He loved that they too could be protected by the same archers and guardsmen that kept his family from harm. But Arkady had heard it was different outside of his kingdom of Gornoye. In Dolina and Vodopad, the palace attendants were considered servants and could not look the king and queen in the eyes without punishment. They had to bow their heads and say “I beg your pardon” every time they entered a room. Would it be so in Derevo too?

Like a sense of dread, Arkady's sneeze came creeping back to tug his thoughts away from the matter of his sister's betrothal and towards this impossible itch. Oh, how it itched. Arkady stumbled to the wood railing of the bridge with clouding eyes, hoping that if the gods really had anything to do with this, they'd let him sn– “Huh-hhhh...” sneeze already– “Ehhthehheh... Hah! Utchtt-!” His breath stuttered: it was right there, right in the place that should have his voice bursting out of him like an announcement, and yet...

It didn't.

But it did keep his eyes shut tight, holding him in a place of such utter discomfort that he had to shake his head hard against it. If it wasn't going to happen, would it at least leave him alone? When he had enough control back to rub his nose, he did so, hoping to squash the inner tickle from the outside. It was barely a solution. Eventually he was able to open his eyes, but even then his vision was skewed by more stinging tears than he knew what to do with. One even went down his cheek.

"Brother! What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

Arkady turned muzzily to his left. He had immediately recognized the voice as Vjera's, which was good, because the tears obscured her face to the point where she looked scarcely recognizable. He pulled the heels of his hands over his sleeves to dry the water in his eyes.

"I must look as if I'm crying," he said, sniffling hard, sure his nose was some shade of red. He laughed a bit to show he wasn't sad, though the situation hardly felt funny at all. "I almost wish I was. It would be better than what's really happening."

Vjera was wearing a simple black pinafore dress, and her soft, dark hair hung down without any sort of style. She was likely holding off as long as she could from preparing for Prince Ivar's arrival. She and her siblings often dressed formally for company, so any break from the layers of high-collared shirts and embroidered coats was a welcome one. She reached out and touched the sleeve of his loose, soft tunic now. "What's really happening? Are you going to throw up?"

"Uh, no," Arkady said, with a slight chuckle at her bluntness. "No... Augh." He scrubbed hard at the fire in his snout. He turned away slightly as he did so; it was embarrassing to make those silly, hesitant faces in front of anyone. “It's my nose. I've got to sneeze, but I can't. I just keep gasping and then nothing happens. Mother thinks Ilari has something to do with it. She thinks it might be a sign of some sort. I don't know what it is, but I hope Jaga has a solution, because I can hardly stand it another second."

Vjera flashed a keen little grin. "What a pain. I would scare it out of you if I could."

"You always were a bit too good at curing my hiccups," Arkady said, remembering in their youth how, after complaining of the ailment, she would wait until he had been hiccuping for a good five minutes, then reach out from underneath his bed or under his study table and grab his ankles as tightly as she could. It had never failed to make him yelp.

Even such a simple memory inspired nostalgia. His eyes saddened. "You're really leaving tomorrow."

"I really am," Vjera sighed. She became gentle, lightly touching the railing and gazing into the Sheerwater River below. "I told you I was ready, and I thought I meant it. But today I feel less sure. I am going to miss watching the girls and little Pedja grow into adults, and I'll miss Dmitar's singing, his jokes. But it’s you I’m going to miss most of all. What am I going to do without my best friend?”

Arkady gazed into the gorge too. "I wish I knew the answer. I've been asking myself the same question." And I’ve been asking the gods, too, he thought, but decided not to admit it. Such trivialities were not exactly meant for gods’ ears.

The siblings smiled at each other, bittersweet, and embraced for what was sure not to be the last time that day. They understood each other like no one else could. They had endured many of the same lessons in etiquette and politics while they grew up, as Vjera would be second in line for the throne until Arkady himself had children. Because of those lessons, they both had understood all their lives that they would not marry for love so much as for political reasoning. It was part of why they had turned to each other so desperately for friendship, each acting as an anchor in a life full of acquaintances and kowtowers and even those who meant well but could never fathom the burdens of the crown.

The running water below filled the silence—at least until Arkady began, again, gathering unsteady breaths. He pulled away from his sister's shoulder, held a hand in front of his face, praying it would soon be catching the results of a truly satisfying sneeze. Twenty-five years of etiquette lessons had been engrained in him, and usually the idea of sneezing without a cloth ready seemed preposterous. But this tickle was even more preposterous, so etiquette was long forgotten. All that mattered was the sneeze.

He tried his damnedest to make it happen. His tongue cupped itself and pressed to the bottom of his mouth. "Hhhuuhhhth... Shehh..." he begged. Then he found himself doing something he had seen others do when they were about to sneeze, which was use a hand to fan in front of his face. Arkady had no idea how such an action would serve him, but they said necessity was the mother of invention. And it seemed... to be... helping... a l-little...!

"Ehh...! Ehsh-!... … hyew..."

A weird, finite little noise escaped him then. Arkady blinked largely in surprise. He had not sneezed, but he had spoken a sneeze-like sound nonetheless, and he hadn't even meant to. It was as if he had wanted it so badly, even feigning the act was better than nothing.

But oh, how much nothing it had done.

Vjera seemed just as confused by this. "Was that... a sneeze?"

"No!" Arkady growled. He coughed and rubbed at his face. "No... Sorry for snapping. I'm not angry at you. I'm angry with my nose. I'd rip it off and throw it into the gorge if I could. Anything to escape this torture."

When there was no response to that, Arkady glanced up from tending to his nose to look at his sister. Her mouth was a hard line, and her eyes sparkled at him.

Arkady frowned. “It’s not funny!”

Vjera held her pointer finger and thumb apart. “It’s a little funny.”

“If this were happening to you, you wouldn’t be so amused,” Arkady said.

“But it isn’t happening to me,” Vjera said.

“So that means it’s funny?”

“It does,” Vjera nodded.

At her brother’s frustrated expression and further badgering of his nose, Vjera finally took pity on him and patted his shoulder. “I’m sure Jaga will take good care of you. I was just there myself, anyway, and I’m feeling a bit better.”

Arkady was alert at once. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing to fret about. I just feel nauseous,” Vjera admitted. “I wanted to eat with you all this morning, and just now, but even the idea of food is too much. I think my stomach is more upset about this betrothal than I am.” She paused. “I-I mean… no, not upset. I just meant…”

He knew what she meant: If anyone sees me looking miserable on the day I’m going to meet my future husband, it’s won’t send the right message to our people.

A herd of low mountain clouds had been passing through them for a while. “No one can see us right now, Ra. Will you be honest with me at least?”

Vjera chewed her lip. Her nickname seemed to undo something in her heart for a moment, but she hid it fast, as future queens did. “I’m not being dishonest. I’ve made my peace with it. And even though I’m nervous, I’m also excited, really. It’s just a lot of newness at once. It’s overwhelming.”

Arkady wanted to coax more of the truth out of her, but something was overwhelming him too. “Gods, not again… Suh-Sorry…” he breathed, his hands going up to his face guiltily, but he couldn’t think or speak when he was like this. The tickle was like a teething puppy, nipping and nuzzling in the back of his nose. He pinched it hard, asking it to stop. Two, three, four gasps later, the urge delivered a final, aching burn, and he was back to feeling unrelieved and unable to sneeze.

Arkady blinked hard and smudged at his eyes. “Ugh… I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Vjera shook her head, “and go to Jaga now. Keeping you here any longer would be cruel.”

“You aren’t keeping me,” Arkady said. He couldn’t stop touching at his nose though.

“I am, and I won’t anymore,” she insisted. She gently nudged him in the direction she’d come from. “Please go have something done about your poor nose.”

"I sure hope something is done," Arkady sighed. "I'd love to have this over with at last. I promise I'll make for better conversation after I finally sneeze."

"Good luck," Vjera wished him before he continued his short journey to the herbalist’s abode.

The steeply-sloped, pentagonal building Jaga conducted her work in was just over the bridge that connected the main plateau to one of the many surrounding peaks. Jaga spent most of her time preparing medicines and tending to her plants, plants that she named and talked to as if they were children. Though half of the building was designed like a greenhouse, her workspace had but one window, so she lived like a cave-dweller when she wasn’t out culling flora, and wore a wild mane to match her wild lifestyle. Due to her many eccentricities, it was easy to forget that she was a genius of an herbalist.

Jaga had just two years ago taken over the late Rosa's position. Where Rosa had been a gentle presence with a sagely bedside manner, Jaga was overzealous when it came to healing. A person with an ailment was certainly more interesting to her than a person without one. Because of that, Arkady felt a little reluctant to let her know what was going on with him. But if she could cure this itch, it was well worth any fuss.

And the moment Arkady walked into her keep, that accursed itch returned with a vengeance. “Um, good day, J-Jagahh...” he trailed off almost immediately, bringing a hand to his mouth, eyes closing just before he noticed the tousled witch looking up from her mortar and pestle. “I'm... um... hh...” I’m unable to talk just yet because I’m trying to sneeze. He sensed her at his side, even as he struggled and pleaded for the sensation to free itself. He turned a bit, not exactly enthusiastic for her to see his face in this state, yet unable to care too terribly much at this point. “Hhhh... HhHH-!”

He waited. Jaga waited. They both waited.

Aaand nothing. Again.

Arkady gulped at the air and fervidly blinked away the stars in his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. "Hhh... Sorry… I’m-”

"You can't sneeze," Jaga said simply. Though at least a decade older than the prince, she was eight inches shorter, and yet somehow she seemed to be right in his face, staring up the length of her own nose at his unmanageable one. She appeared very interested in him.

"Um," Arkady felt himself flushing again, "yes." He sniffled, rubbed at his upper lip. "I just want to do away with whatever’s causing this," he admitted, "but Queen Cveta is worried it might mean something.”

"And she should be," Jaga said. "Ilari is trying to send you a message."

Arkady slumped his shoulders. "You think so too?"

"How do you feel right now?" Jaga ignored his question to field her own. "Does your nose still tickle? Do you feel that you could sneeze any moment? Or is it more of an itch you can't scratch?"

"I-I don't know," Arkady panted, "but the more you tuh... talk about it, the more I want... tuhhhh... Hh, h, heh, nh-!" His mounting breaths hit an octave that seemed to promise results, but all too soon he was sighing out the air he'd swallowed, unfulfilled. Arkady cupped a hand over his poor abused nose. "Ugh... the more I want to sneeze."

Jaga's eyes were glittering like camel jasper. "How interesting," she said. "You really need it, don't you? But you still can't manage to do it?"

Throwing the truth back in his face kind of stung. "Well, yes, as a matter of fact," he huffed.

Jaga put her hands on her hips, staring off into space thoughtfully. She did this for long enough that Arkady felt the tickle in him stirring again, a demanding little niggle, yet it would not be satisfied. He went to touch his nose, to relieve it even just a tiny bit, and was surprised to feel a hand upon his wrist stopping him.

"H-Hey. Don't." It was a lame argument, but the current pulse of the distant sneeze had left him in a trance-like state where all he could think about was relief.

“I know it's bothering you," Jaga said with a smirk, "and I don't blame you for wanting to scratch. But listen. If I learned anything from Rosa, it's that the ailments of the royal family are never to be ignored. And even you know well enough that sneezing is considered a direct message from the gods.”

"But I'm not sneezing." Arkady hoped the slight whine in his voice would inspire sympathy. "Isn't that the opposite of a sign?"

Jaga shook her head. "Without a doubt, it’s a sign," she said. She went back to her table and returned with a nearly-empty clay mug. "The leaves told me all I needed to know. Something important is going to happen today. And your sneezing—or not-sneezing, rather—might just be connected to it."

"We already know what the important thing is," Arkady grumbled. "Prince Ivar and his entourage are coming."

"Perhaps that is the important thing," Jaga said as she circled the rim of the mug with her finger, "perhaps it isn't. But in order for the gods' sign to arrive when it needs to arrive, you must leave your nose alone. If you try to make the sneeze come too soon or late, you may never receive the message they are sending you. The fact that you can't sneeze, that you try and fail? This is all part of their plan. Be patient, and trust their judgment."

Arkady's fingers grasped uselessly at the air before his face. "At this point, I'd... rather s... s-sneez- ha-haH…!"

Jaga waited with him in the pregnant silence that followed. She tsked any time his fingers went too close to his nostrils, desperate to rub or aid in any way possible. The self-consciousness over the faces he was pulling was disappearing fast: every time his breathing snagged, all he could hope was that the sneeze was coming at last and that he'd be free of this strange torment. And it held him just above his breaking point for so long, when the sneeze did finally disappear, Arkady snarled at the ceiling, "There’d better be a good reason for this, damn it!"

Old Rosa might have gasped at that, but Jaga was made of different stuff. "Don't brush the gods off so quickly," she said with a light laugh. "You've done nothing to anger them—well, aside from the aforementioned damning. Right?”

Arkady paused. “I can’t think of anything.”

Jaga nodded. “You have the blood of Ilari, whose sneeze saved us from the floods. It's possible that your sneeze could even save you. So let it come in its own good time."

“There is nothing good about the time it’s taking.” Arkady sniffed hard. All these tears were turning his sinuses to liquid. “Do you have anything I can use for a handkerchief?”

For a moment, Arkady was afraid she wouldn’t let him blow his nose, but she found him a cloth, and he accepted it gratefully. Using it helped him feel a bit more clear-headed, but now the tickle was merely a dry one instead of wet, which was just as bad. He snuffled around in the kerchief until Jaga commanded, “That’s enough. Leave it be. Leave it!” She swatted at his wrist. “Am I going to have to follow you all day to make sure you don’t scratch?”

The prince reluctantly removed his hands, scowling. “No.”

“Good,” Jaga said. “And you promise me, as soon as you sneeze, you tell me about where you were, what was happening, what you were thinking—everything. Come back if it hasn’t happened in a few more hours.”

“A few more hours?” Arkady stared at her, jaw dropping. “You think it might last that long?!”

“It could,” was the unfortunate response. “If it does last that long than the message is likely to be an important one.”

Arkady was silent, staring down at the kerchief as he folded it into a neat triangle.

Jaga had returned to her pestle and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “I know a look of doubt when I see one,” she said with a slyness. “I’ll follow you all day if I have to, Prince. Don’t you meddle with that sneeze. If Ilari hadn’t sneezed at the time and place he did, Gornoye wouldn’t exist, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, would we? So you let it alone.”

“All right, all right, I won’t bother it,” Arkady lied. He put the kerchief in his pocket and folded his arms. “Well, then… If the best herbalist in Gornoye has no cure for me, than I suppose I had better go get ready for the Derevo entourage.”

He was being grouchy, he knew, and it only seemed to delight Jaga even more. “Farewell, Prince Arkady. And remember to have patience.”

“Have patience,” he muttered under his breath once he was outside. He knuckled his nose. Who in the world could exercise patience when they felt like he did? Sneezes stopped and started three times in just the short walk from Jaga’s workspace back to the main palace and solarium. It was insanity.

Arkady snorted after the third bout of hitching breaths. Yes, of course he knew about the significance of Ilari’s sneeze; he’d been rocked to sleep with the story many a night, just like every child of the Ossian faith. It went that the great god Ossia, disgusted that the world of his making had been burnt and torn and destroyed by centuries of war, decided to flood the land with a rainstorm. And all the people of the world would have drowned, if the great dragon Ilari had not spontaneously sneezed a hole in the storm clouds, sparing one single mountainside of humanity. Those people had Ilari's blessing. Those people also, allegedly, were Arkady's ancestors.

In earnest, Arkady figured the chances of that were slim. His was not the only mountain town that believed they were the one saved by Ilari’s sneeze. The ancient texts told the story but never specified the location of the spared mountain. For him to be the true prince whose veins flowed with Ilari’s divinity was what he’d been told all his life, and something he’d doubted for just as long.

Though he debated the legitimacy of his birthright, Arkady did believe that the gods played some role in his fate. He also, however, hoped that the gods would have more efficient means of sending him a message than... this. "Hh! Hh-shhuh... hh..." The sneeze only stirred faintly this time before backing down. Arkady scrubbed and scrubbed his nose. Sometimes the tickle was an icicle point, a sharp stimulus, while at most times a puddle, a tingly sensation spread out over his entire nose but overall not near enough of a disturbance to make his breath catch. He wasn't sure which was worse. When the urge crested, the end seemed so tantalizingly close, and to have it taken away was crushing. When it was no more than a faint humming, it made him feel prickly and unsettled. It was ridiculous to go on doing nothing at all. Thus, Arkady had no intention of following Jaga’s advice. He was going to rid himself of this sneeze.

The method to do so was in itself a problem that needed solving. Arkady knew that some sneezed from the fur of animals or certain flowers or a musty room, but those things had never much bothered him. He tried to think of a time he had sneezed from something other than a spontaneous tickle or seasonal cold, and couldn't conjure a memory. And despite Svetlana's suggestion that he try spicy food, Arkady had never been so adversely affected by it. What options did that leave him?

Arkady thought back to the legend of Ilari. In some tellings of the story, it was said that the dragon god had sneezed when a bird had flown too close to their nose or even into their nose. Maybe, Arkady reasoned, he needed some external stimulus in order to get things moving too. He certainly wasn’t interested in waiting for the tickle to sort itself out.

A bird was small for a dragon, but for him a feather would work all the same. As he made his way to his family’s living quarters, Arkady tried to remember if there was a quill in his room. When had he last written a letter? “Hh…” It might have been the congratulations to Prince Feofan on the birth of his firstborn… “Hhehf…” Or the prayers to burn for the Vernal Equinox… “Huuffh!” He had to stop walking when the building sneeze temporarily blinded him, making his eyes clamp tight and squeeze out water. Gods, how he wanted it… If a feather couldn’t bring on this—“Huhh…”—stubborn thing, what could?

Arkady massaged the end of his nose to soothe the sharper stings the marauding itch left in its warpath. When he looked up, he realized the two guards that manned the entrance to the plateau’s inner wall were watching him. He stiffened, self-conscious. Did everyone feel the need to stare at a sneezing person?

As Arkady continued through the entrance, one managed, shakily, “A-Are you all right, Prince?”

“No,” Arkady grumbled, slouching past them. He had given up on looking put-together.

“Uh… is Ilari with you?” the second guard asked. She had at least recognized it was a sneeze that had stalled him. What she wasn’t sure of was if it had come out or not, for if she were certain it had, her words wouldn’t have been a question.

“Would that he could be,” was the monotone reply thrown over his shoulder. He heard a confused, “What do you mean, Prince?” follow behind him that he chose not to heed.

Arkady proceeded up the stairs of the verandah to the sleeping chambers. Beneath the porch’s long overhang was a series of doors leading to the individual bedrooms. Each royal child had their own bedroom, complete with bath and antechamber, and as he passed by, he could hear muffled conversation between his siblings and an attendant beyond the walls as they spruced up for their most important guests. Arkady knew he should be calling on Wolfert to help him with his wardrobe as soon as possible, but… all in good time. Getting rid of this sneeze was his top priority right now.

When Arkady opened the door to his own quarters, he was surprised to see his mother in the antechamber, seated on one of four hand-painted benches overflowing with decorative pillows. His heart sunk immediately; he’d have to talk with her before he could try his hand at tempting this sneeze, and he could barely put up with it for another second.

“Oh, hello,” he said, in a tone that he hoped did not sound any bit annoyed.

The Queen sat up taller at his arrival, even though she had been sitting with near-perfect posture. “Ah, there you are. That took a while. Did Jaga say you’re all right?”

Arkady blinked and recognized an opportunity. “I met Vjera along the way. We talked for a bit. That’s why I took so long,” he began. He coughed. “Uh, in any case, Jaga says she doesn’t think anything is wrong.”

Queen Cveta looked uncertain. “She doesn’t?”

“She doesn’t.” Arkady sniffed. “In fact, I sneezed while I was there.” That was the hardest lie to tell, for how much he wished it were the truth. “She doesn’t think the gods have anything to do with it. Sh-She thinks I must just be having a reaction to something in the garden.” He sniffed again.

Queen Cveta shook her head at once. “That can’t be right. We have tea with honey from our bees every day. You’d have surely built up a tolerance to anything growing there. Jaga of all people should know that.”

Uh-oh. “She thinks something different might be growing there,” he corrected quickly. “Some new, foreign thing… It was the only explanation she could thiiiink ah… of.” It’s the only explanation I can think of, anyway. “I-It’s still k-k-ki-hind of bothering me,” he was forced to say next, because the sneeze was starting up again and there was no way he could pretend it wasn’t. He pulled out the handkerchief Jaga gave him and rubbed his nose with it.

Queen Cveta observed him a moment longer. “All right,” she said at last, standing to her slippered feet. “If that’s what Jaga says… I suppose we had better find out what that plant could be, when we have the time. Will you be fine getting ready for our guests?”

“Hhhhhh… Hh!... heh… fyew. I, uh, sh-should be,” Arkady stuttered, lowering the handkerchief pathetically when the sneeze backed off. It was getting harder and harder to recover from the dizziness of the tickle. “They—snf!—should be arriving in around two hours, correct?”

The Queen nodded. “Yes, I think so. I’ve got to make sure all the preparations are in order, so I should leave now. Goodbye.”

“Oh. Goodbye,” he repeated, surprised but not disappointed by her suddenly taking leave. No sooner had she shut the door behind her that Arkady was moving out of the antechamber into his own bedroom, more than ready to find that quill.

His room was finely decorated in jeweled chests and embossed dressers and a beautifully-carved set of drawers with a shrine on top for water offerings, all wonderful gifts from visitors and royal families from far and wide. He didn’t treat them with the respect they deserved as he pawed through their contents, with his mind on one thing only. “Where is it… Where is it…” he started mumbling under his breath after his desk had been thoroughly searched, his bedside table emptied of all its candles and books. “It has to be here…” There were sure to be quills in the study, but that was in the main palace, and he didn’t want to risk his mother or Jaga sighting him. Plus, he wanted relief now.

The room had been turned upside-down. There was no quill in sight. The search had taken twenty minutes, a good portion of that time dedicated to waiting for his non-sneeze to dissipate enough that he could get back to said fruitless searching. Arkady's frustration mixed with the tickle had brought him near to tears. He flopped onto the bed, clawing his hair with both hands and chewing his lip. If he didn't do something about this now, he was going to lose it.

And that was when he remembered it. His pillows were feather pillows. There were thousands of them there the whole time, and now they were right under his head! But the only way to get to them was to rip through the hemstitched tussah silk.

Was he that desperate? He was.

But not so desperate that he was going to tear the innocent pillow apart like a barbarian. Arkady used his hip dagger to cut a delicate slit in the material, something that could hopefully be mended quite easily, but he shed any remaining trepidation when the pillow’s bounty was spilled. Innocent down, ashen gray and white, immediately bled from the wound, sticking up in tufts. The littlest bits of feathers floated into the air around his face, which had his eyes rolling back into his skull immediately.

“Heh-hh! Hh! H! H! H!” His gasps were so quick and light, they were almost silent. The tendrils he was sure he’d inhaled were having a horrible effect on him. This tickle was different, not a puppy’s nip but the playful grapple of a dog’s maw, so much more powerful but still not something to be taken seriously. Hitching and huffing against the minuscule plumes, he was eventually driven so mad that he had to pinch his nose with his entire hand; he couldn’t for the life of him wait another second for that sensation to mature into a sneeze, even if, by some miracle, that was the solution. When the worst of the sting faded, he loosened his grip and snorted hard to launch any feathery debris out. He wanted to sneeze, after all, not torture himself.

The feathers inside the pillow were much smaller than he had anticipated them being. The longest ones were scarcely more than an inch, and he had to dig around for quite a while to find one that he could actually hold the stem of without also holding the entire feather. His decided tool was still rather disheartening. A writing quill would have been far more dangerous, with its tapered point and great length. He hoped that the fluffiness of the down would make up for that.

The introduction of the feather’s rounded tip to the inside of his nostril initially seemed promising. The gentle barbs coaxed at the sneeze when they twitched against fragile pink skin, and Arkady’s heart soared at the thought that the end was nigh. But after half a minute of tickling, the sneeze only seemed further away. Eyebrows lowering, Arkady dug the feather deeper. Again, the sneeze receded, and he chased it like a hound after a burrowing rabbit. But soon he encountered the same problem that many dogs did: the prey was farther back in its hole than fangs could reach. The barbs of the feather were not long enough to graze the back of his nose.

Arkady pushed so that the beds of his fingernails were right against the opening of his nostril, the feather stretched to its limits. It still wasn’t enough; the sneeze danced merrily out of reach, arching its back and teasing him horribly but not allowing him the relief he longed for like anything. How ridiculous could this get? He had never known of anyone trying this hard to sneeze with such little success. Sure, he’d had a sneeze disappear on him before, but normally that only meant a moment of disappointment, a little throb that fast went away. His sneezes were usually utterly unremarkable. They came and went, in ones, twos, and rarely threes, if he were sick or if the urge had been especially strong, and after a brief shake of his head and a sniffle, Arkady would go on with his day. This sneeze was a bully. This sneeze felt alive. And as the hound could think of nothing but the death of its prey when it was so close, so too was Arkady determined.

He pushed that feather as far as it would reach. And somehow, some way, he felt its single longest follicle graze the back of his nose.

Arkady’s chest stuttered. Success. He swelled with pride. He couldn’t stop now. He scratched and swiped the feather against the sensitive skin, against the sneeze which had nowhere left to run. He starting inhaling fittishly and didn’t stop.

“Hhh, hh, hh, hh, hh! Hh! Hh-!”

His lungs felt enormous. His nose burned. The sneeze seemed real, close, about to break out of him. “Huh! Huhhhh! Hhhhhhhh…!” Arkady could take in air no more. All he needed was one more swipe of the feather… One more touch and then, surely… Surely…

It was at this crucial moment that Arkady found his hand unable to move. Possessed by the sheer power of this urge, he could devote himself to no other function. But that would be his undoing.

“H? Hh?? H-hhh???”

The possibility was fading fast, and Arkady briefly panicked, swirling the small feather wherever it could easily reach. But he was losing the breaths he’d gathered, and he knew it was over even before he felt an arm pulling his hand away from his face and an ever-jocular voice admonishing, “Now, Prince, I told you not to meddle with it, didn’t I?”

It took a while for his eyes to open, and even longer for his breathing to even out, so then for some time he could only stare at Jaga and Queen Cveta looking down at him, the witch smiling in amusement and his mother looking none-too-pleased.

“I hoped it wasn’t true, but I had a feeling I was being lied to,” Queen Cveta began. “Jaga has confirmed it. Why did you not tell me the truth?”

Arkady took a few more deep breaths. His diaphragm had been through a lot today. “I’m sorry,” he said to the Queen, when he was at last able to speak, “but I can’t tell you how badly I want to sneeze.” Then to Jaga, he said, “‘Meddling’ doesn’t do me any good, it still won’t happen. This isn’t a normal sneeze. The gods are punishing me, and I don’t know what for, but I have to find out and make it up to them as soon as possible.”

To his surprise and Queen Cveta’s, Jaga began to laugh. “Prince, Prince, Prince,” she shook her head, “what reason would the gods have to punish you?”

Arkady shook his head back. “As I said, I don’t know why. Of all days too; today should be about Vjera.”

Vjera… At her name, something dawned on him. “I know why,” he sighed, looking at his lap. “I’ve asked the gods every day for the past month if they could find Prince Ivar a different queen. But it was a selfish wish, and this is how they’re letting me know.”

“Arkady! Why would you pray for such a thing?” Queen Cveta stood tall. “This marriage will allow your sister to rule in a way she could not if she were to stay here. It isn’t right for you to use your influence over the gods in such a manner. This is a shameful thing for my successor to do.”

“I know,” Arkady answered evenly. “I see that now.” He looked up. “I could apologize for my actions, but then I will have lied to you twice in one day.”

The Queen temporarily maintained her ferocity, but her face soon softened into one of a mother. “I understand your sadness,” she said. She closed her eyes and became a queen again. “But that is the way of our world. Whatever kindnesses we offer ourselves often means we are taking something away from our people. And instead of praying for Gornoye’s continued protection and peace, you chose to ask for this. I almost find the gods’ punishment too light… but they know better than I do what is deserved.”

Arkady wanted to tell the Queen that this ‘punishment’ was, in fact, not something he would wish even on an enemy, but he was too busy dealing with said punishment to say so. The tickle was bubbling to the surface with as many empty promises as ever. “Feh,” he gasped anyway, weakly pleading with the sneeze for mercy, despite everything it had put him through today. It bothered and wheedled away, digging deeper than a feather or a breath could pry it out of, no matter how much he called to it. “Hh, heh! Heh, sheh! Ht-tz-! … … …shyew…”

It wasn’t a sneeze. Just like earlier with Vjera on the bridge, he’d made some kind of approximate noise in place of the sneeze, as if that would do him any good. Arkady tearily knuckled at his nose while Jaga and Queen Cveta exchanged glances.

“Was that… a sneeze?” the Queen finally asked.

Arkady gave a big snuffle. “No.”

“Hmmmmm,” hummed Jaga, rubbing her chin and looking as suspiciously amused as ever. After a thoughtful moment, she grinned. “Well, Prince Arkady, I suppose you’ll just have to wait it out. If the gods don’t want you to sneeze yet, it certainly isn’t going to happen.”

“Ugh.” Arkady massaged where his nose, eyes, and forehead met. “I’m not going to make for much of a host when I’m like this,” he grumbled, “but there’s not a lot of time left before Prince Ivar’s arrival. I just have to put up with it then?”

“Afraid so,” Jaga shrugged with her arms out to the sides. She then raised one hand up, swiveling her wrist to gesture somewhat lazily at the ceiling. “The gods will do as they will. But, sneezing or not, you have a job to do. It’s time we got back to readying for the entourage.”

“Right, right… Only two and a half hours to go.” Arkady stood up, going to ring the bell that would signal the attendant who helped him prepare and dress. Before he did, he called again to the Queen’s retreating back, “I’m sorry to have disappointed you.”

She stopped and did not look at him, but said back with soft reservation, “Arkady… I thought by now you understood the way of things.”

“I thought I did too,” Arkady said. “I guess I still have a lot to learn.”

The Queen did not respond to that or look at him, but she did not seem angry either. Only Jaga responded, with a sparkly-eyed look that the prince wasn’t quite sure how to decipher, before she too left the room.

__________________________________________________

Arkady did not advise trying to sneeze while someone was washing your hair. It was, unfortunately, now advice he could give based on personal experience. Wolfert was still apologizing as he brushed the deep brown strands, as sorry about his mistake as Arkady should have been for abusing his influence over the gods.

“I’m so, so sorry. I should have noticed,” Wolfert fretted for the sixth or seventh time.

“Ih-hih-hhhit’s fine-hUH! … This is g-going tooooh… k-k-keep happening, so, huh…” Arkady pinched his nose tight, massaging it in his fist. “Ugh… I may as well get used to… w-warning people about it.”

Arkady was trying to be reassuring, but now his nose itched and his sinuses felt singed. He’d had to sneeze in the middle of the bath, a possession which had hit him a hundredfold, almost as badly as when he’d had the feather in his nose. He’d had no time to warn Wolfert of the gathering urge before it had him yawning wide, nose scrunched back. And then, splash. A bucketful of water had cascaded over his soapy head, entering his lungs and making him choke and snort like a bull.

Since then, the tickle had escalated, no longer just a phantom urge. It felt like something was actually physically inside his nose, like a piece of dust or a hair, but no amount of snorting or nose blowing would resolve it. Arkady never imagined that water could cause such a response. All he knew was that it had made everything worse. Now there were no breaks from the huffing and fluttery talk. It was a feeling that constantly waxed and waned and brought him to the edge of the shore, only to drag him back out like a wicked undertow.

Everyone seemed to know about his predicament now too. No doubt his siblings had been gossiping with their attendants. Zlata, Pedja, and Svetlana each came into his bedchamber at one point, fully outfitted, to find out if he’d sneezed yet. They all lingered a bit after learning he hadn’t, too, as if wanting to be present when the dam finally burst. To them, his frantic breathing must sound as if he was very close to success, but by now Arkady knew better.

Wolfert was pinning up his hair (not the easiest task with a constantly fidgeting subject) when Vjera took her own turn in his room. “Dmitar told me you still haven’t sneezed! You poor thing!” she fretted, wringing her hands in front of her. “Are you going to be all right at dinner?”

Arkady struggled to smile, to reassure her. He could feel how very lopsided it was. “Prah… Probably not,” he managed. He rubbed his nose, which did almost nothing to help him speak. “I stih-stih-still-! Intend to b-be there-! No matter, hhhh…! Whuh-What.” He gave a hard sniffle, which caused his head to jerk, the comb to tug too hard, and the tickle to respond with absolute panic. Instantly, he was a mess of fits and starts, barely able to hear Wolfert’s “Sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!” in the background. How was he going to make it through dinner without causing a scene? The answer was, he wasn’t. Usually Arkady would have taken absence from a formal meal under circumstances such as these, but Vjera was leaving tomorrow, and he wasn’t going to sacrifice any of the short time he had left with her.

It took a lot of pawing and nudging against a very upset nose, but Arkady finally managed to compose himself enough that he could somewhat speak again. “I-I’m going to try… not to be too obvious.” It was hard enough to say that with only a hint of a struggle. “I may not make f-f-fah, for a… a g-great host, but snf! I’ll at l-heast be… present.” At his sister’s pitying look, he hung his head and sighed, “Th-This is honestly the b… best I can do.”

“I know it is. That’s why I feel so sorry for you,” Vjera said. “It doesn’t bother me, I just feel awful is all. I don’t know why the gods would do this to you now of all times.”

Arkady wanted to explain, but it wouldn’t be right to say so in front of Wolfert. “I’m sure th… they have their-!” With a sudden, sharp inhale, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. It took a whole ten seconds for him to regain control. When he was able to see again, both Wolfert and Vjera were gazing down at him sadly. The suspense seemed to be killing everybody. Arkady could only finish lamely, “… Their reasons.”

When the Queen and all six of her progeny had been made to look their best, they began their procession to the outer courtyard with a small pack of guards in tow. It wasn’t long before Queen Cveta decided that Arkady wasn’t in the best of minds to navigate the stone steps leading down the mountain, and instructed him to meet them in the solarium for dinner instead. It was evening now, and their guests would surely want to sup as soon as they made it to the Plateau. Arkady had wanted to talk with Vjera on the way down, but he had to admit it just couldn’t be. Jaga looped her arm through his to help guide him back up the short distance he’d descended.

“How are you feeling, Prince?” she began by asking, a smile very present in her voice.

“Hehhh!” was all Arkady could manage at that particular moment.

Jaga cackled but tightened her grip on her swaying charge. “I’m glad I got a chance to chat with you privately. This may be very unorthodox of me to say, but I thought you ought to know: I don’t think Queen Cveta is correct. I stand by my original point. I think the gods are trying to protect you from something.”

Arkady brought his handkerchief up to his face. He couldn’t open his eyes or keep pace so well. “Ahhah… O-Oh-kah-kay…!”

“Are you going to sneeze?” Jaga sounded as curious as a she-cat.

Arkady shook his head rapidly, sure he looked to all the world like a person about to absolutely collapse sneezing. He had stopped hoping that the sneeze was about to come, because that only lead to discouragement. “D-Do me a favor,” he gasped after coming down from the tickle’s latest crest. “Don’t ask me if I’m about to sneeze. I’m not.”

“Very well,” Jaga said, almost soothingly, or at least it was coming from her. “It does seem to be worse than earlier, though, doesn’t it? Perhaps the moment is soon to arrive.”

“Don’t try to lift my hopes,” Arkady sighed as they approached the doors of the main palace and went inside. “And I have no idea what a sneeze could protect me from. It really f-feels… It f-fuh… It… It feels lihihi…” Arkady shut one eye tight, the other half-open, trying to talk past the tickle since it kept insisting on interrupting him. “Feels mah-more… like a… p… HA!” His enormous gasp filled the vaulted ceiling and echoed down around them. It was so spontaneously loud and poignant that for one bright moment, Arkady thought, Oh gods it really is here this time, and swung his head back to accept it. But he should have known better. It was just another fluke, set up seemingly to break his spirit.

“This is agony,” he groaned. “This whole day. It shouldn’t have been about this—” His hand gestured a circle in the air before his nose “—it should have been about saying goodbye to Vjera. I have no idea when I’ll see her again. And she needed my support, but I was too busy to offer it properly.” Arkady paused. “She doesn’t want to go, Jaga. You know that. When she came to you with the stomachache this morning, you knew that, too.” Jaga’s eyes were somewhat downcast. “And she wouldn’t open up to you either, would she? It’s all because of the way things are. The way they have to be for kings and queens and princes and princesses. You learn to keep everything inside, so that your people never have to see it, but then when do you let it go? When does Vjera let it go? It can’t keep building up forever, it can’t stay inside forever. But has it ever for her? If she won’t even tell me how she feels, who will she tell? Eventually, the truth has to come out. Doesn’t it? And maybe I could have convinced Vjera to tell me it, if I only I didn’t have this stupid…” Arkady trailed off.

The whole hall went quiet. Jaga reached out to him. “Prince–”

Arkady placed his hand on her shoulder unsteadily, breath chuffing. “Jaga, I’m going to sneeze…”

“Oh? Are you?” The witch rooted herself in place to better support him. “Isn’t that curious...”

Like a tidal wave, his sneeze seemed at last to be gathering itself for something momentous. Arkady felt blind and helpless beneath it; he was blind and helpless beneath it. His eyes were closed so tightly that a thousand tiny suns seemed to be exploding against his lids, but he couldn’t pay them any mind due to the reason his eyes were closed in the first place. Oh gods, the tickle. It was surely divine. It felt larger than him, larger than anything his body could have concocted or handled on its own, and he was at its mercy. It occurred to him, with sudden dread, that it was too much for him to handle, that, though it seemed to lick every sensitive part of his sinuses at once with fiery tongues, a sneeze could not possibly be born from such overpowering stimulation. His lungs pushed his chest out to its farthest as they took in every bit of air they could hold. He couldn’t move. He was absolutely frozen with the desire to sneeze.

Seconds ticked by, ten aching, unreal seconds of miserable itching. And at the end of it, still Arkady didn’t sneeze.

He wasn’t going to sneeze. Not yet. It was as if the gods were saying, Trust us. We know what we’re doing.

Arkady gasped as his lungs seemed to remember how to work. His eyes popped open wide, his senses returning to him. He turned slowly to look down at Jaga; her eyes were wide too. He realized then how much he must have been relying on her to keep on his feet. He swallowed, wrinkled his nose, and then wrinkled it even more when he realized just how badly his nostrils wanted a good rub for all their trouble.

Jaga didn’t chuckle at this display. “This is serious,” she said quietly. He had never heard her so sobered.

Arkady smudged the heel of his hand under his nose vigorously. “I think you’re right, but I also can’t imagine how or why it could be serious.”

“Allow me to join you at dinner tonight,” Jaga went on as if she didn’t hear him. “The moment you sneeze is going to be meaningful, I can tell. I should be with you when it happens, so I can assess what caused it.”

“Gods, I hope it happens at dinner,” Arkady had just finished saying when the doors to the main hall opened, and in poured the Derevo entourage.

The man that Vjera was arm-in-arm with must have been Prince Ivar. He was tall and handsome and brown-haired and his eyes were large, inviting. He was laughing and smiling down at Arkady’s sister warmly. He wore a green coat covered in black and gold embroidery, and there was a sash around his waist that held a sheathed knife to his middle. Vjera smiled at her betrothed too. They were still twenty feet away, so Arkady couldn’t be sure, but he hoped the grin on her face was a genuine one.

Jaga released Arkady so that he could bow and kneel before their guest. “Prince Ivar, w-welcome. I hope your travels went well. I am sorry that I was unable to, hh… meet you at the entrance.”

“Stand, please! I’m not used to these formalities from other royals, and I understand you are feeling under the weather.” Prince Ivar’s voice was like a newly-minted coin. “Where I come from, it is the servants and guardsmen who bow when royalty passes them by.”

Upon hearing that, Jaga, a bit confused but wanting to show a good impression, sunk down on one knee.

Arkady stood then, deciding too it was best not to say anything, but secretly wondering If he is my family’s guest, why would Jaga bow to him?

He shook the other prince’s hand, but immediately after felt his face begin to quirk in the same way it had all day. Vjera swiftly took the attention off her brother. “You and your entourage must be hungry after your travels. Why don’t we have your belongings delivered to your lodgings while we have dinner?”

Prince Ivar responded with approval, but Arkady could scarcely pay attention to his words, because his nose was going absolutely wild, and Jaga was once again tasked to keep him from toppling over.

“Hh-! Hh-ha! Jahh, Jagahh… HEH! Do yah, you h-h-have… Hhhh… A k-kerchief I could… Hhhh…” His nose was running in some far-back place, and it was hindering far more than it was helping.

“Easy, easy,” she said, as his breathing returned to some approximation of control, and handed him the cloth. Arkady blew into it. It helped a bit, but not at all to the degree he would have liked. “Prince, do I have your permission to join you in the solarium? I won’t take a place at the table. I merely want to observe.”

Arkady nodded with his eyes closed. His voice would not be reliable until he got the sneeze out—whenever that would be. As he continued to touch at his nose, Jaga guided him forward.

The dining table was long enough to host thirty people at once, which was useful considering the size of Prince Ivar’s party. Ivar sat directly opposite Queen Cveta, at the other end of the table, with Vjera to his left to keep him company. Arkady was torn, wanting to sit to Prince Ivar’s right in order to get to know him better, but also not wanting to spend formalities dithering with this sneeze. Seeing as he was already dithering with a sneeze, though, Jaga was in charge of directing him and decided he should sit with his mother and two youngest siblings at their end. He supposed it was for the best that Prince Ivar didn’t have to hear him wheezing. It worked out well for Zlata and Pedja, anyway, who were significantly more interested in witnessing their brother’s sneeze than making heads or tails of adult small talk.

“You still didn’t sneeze, right? I didn’t miss it?” Zlata asked in an excited whisper as her eldest brother sat next to her.

“Your deepest and most sincere condolences are more appreciated than you will ever know,” Arkady said.

Zlata looked away quickly and looked back. “Wellll… you didn’t, right?”

As another exhale stuttered out of him, Arkady gave her watery look that hopefully said, Gee, do you think?

Jaga was standing against the wall behind him, arms folded politely behind her back. He could feel her eyes on him too. How badly everyone wanted to be there for the eventual arrival of this sneeze. How badly they must think that, with each poignant, biting gasp, he was about to succumb to this almighty irritation. Arkady no longer let himself believe the torment was about to end. If he did, he would break his own spirit a hundred times over. He did, however, begin to accept its presence. Whether there to help or hinder, it was the doing of the gods that he feel this way. He would just have to trust their judgment.

It wasn’t until the fish dumpling soup was brought out that Arkady recognized just how hungry he was. He realized, too, how tricky the task of eating becomes when needing to sneeze as badly as he did. Even if he didn’t believe the sneeze was really coming yet, it felt dangerous to have a hot mouthful of broth when his body so vehemently wanted him to be working out this tickle. He shook his head against it and grimaced long enough that some of the guests were starting to notice one of their hosts was pulling the strangest faces imaginable, duck his chin though he might.

“Are you all right, Prince Arkady?” called the voice of a stranger.

Arkady could only wave in the direction of the speaker. He put his napkin around his face to hide his latest grimace. This was embarrassing…

“He’s all right, he just can’t sneeze,” Arkady heard Zlata explain in his stead. He looked at her weakly out of his peripherals. He didn’t feel all right: he felt like he wanted to fall asleep and wake up completely sneezeless.

“Hmm. That sounds like Ilari’s doing,” came another response from the Derevo entourage.

“Huh-!” Arkady couldn’t help gasping audibly, earning some chuckles from around the room.

“I’m sorry for you, friend,” Prince Ivar called next. “I want to say ‘Ilari is with you’ but it seems more likely that he’s somewhere else entirely.”

More laughter. Arkady tried to laugh too, which wasn’t the most difficult when his breathing already sounded a bit like that. A smile was hard to hold though, and he found himself tucking back into his napkin for whatever privacy he could salvage.

The voice that came next was sterner. “Prince Ivar is right. Ilari is not with this young man anymore. He must have done something to deserve punishment.”

That comment seemed to make the air a bit cold. Prince Ivar was the one to restore the happy atmosphere. “Says the old bat who skipped prayer this morning to catch a few extra winks! Cheer up, Sacha, have more wine. Which reminds me—I brought plenty of wine from our vineyards, too. They say there’s no other like it in all Vyshtopa, after all. Sacha, why don’t you go fetch it? I’m sure one of the guards would be happy to direct you to where they’re keeping our carts.”

Sacha was quiet for a moment. Then he stood carefully to his feet. “… Certainly. Apologies for my outburst, Queen Cveta.”

Arkady wasn’t sure how his mother handled the situation, because he was then overcome by a tickle of such proportions that none in the solarium could ignore his desperate, “Hh-huhhuh, htz, hdT-! HEHT-! … … … shiew…”

At that noise, all dialogue paused, until Prince Ivar had to ask, “Was that… a sneeze?”

“No,” Arkady choked out, and the air was full of collective groans of sympathy or mild laughter. Arkady mopped at his eyes with his napkin. He didn’t really like being the center of attention over anything, let alone this, and tried to focus on why he was even forcing himself to be at dinner in the first place. He glanced over at Vjera to see her conversing with her future husband. She caught his eye a moment later, looked at him with mild worry. Arkady wanted to smile, to assuage her, but a newly budding sneeze was already turning his mouth into a deep, harsh frown. He blew his nose and tried not to think about how much he wanted to leave. Building up to a sneeze this much was starting to tire him out…

“There we are! Thank you, Sacha.” Next thing he knew, the wine had been delivered, Prince Ivar himself pouring the dark liquid. “The first glass should go to Prince Arkady, I do believe. It’s strong stuff. It might just knock that wicked sneeze out of you!”

That was a nice idea. Arkady had his doubts it would be the case. Still, he gratefully accepted the beverage when it was delivered to him, wanting very much to show his guests that he was made for more than entertainment.

The wine was like liquid velvet. Its color was akin to the darkest blood. Asking his nose to quiet down and behave for just a moment, Arkady brought his lips to the rim of the glass…

Immediately, like a live thing, the tickle fought him.

It was like a hornet’s nest crashing to the earth and the entire swarm billowing up at once. That was the only way to describe the way in which the sneeze was now treating him. His head jerked away from the glass instinctively, snatching a huge breath through his nose. There was nothing coy about this feeling. It wasn’t the dipping, darting butterfly of a sneeze that had been flitting about his sinuses all day, but a dagger, poised to strike. A dagger hovering right over his heart. But a dagger was harmless until it pierced flesh…

Arkady opened his eyes, his vision swirling with tears. The wine could have been blood. Could it be a dagger?

Again he brought his lips to the glass. His nose touched the opposite rim.

And that’s when he knew he was going to sneeze.

The lessons of a prince were deeply ingrained. On any normal day, Arkady would have stopped this sneeze by rubbing his tongue against his front teeth until its tang lessened. Even if it were strong, he would have fought it off with all his might, because that was what you did when you were royalty. But that didn’t matter anymore. There was no way Arkady was going to let it get away from him now. All day, he had been putting up with this. All day, he had begged and pleaded for something to happen. If his body was really allowing this long-awaited event to happen, no force in the world could hold him back. This sneeze might as well be the strongest force in the world.

And suddenly, in Arkady’s mind, there was no world. There was only the sneeze.

“Hhh!”

It was right there.

“Hah-!”

It was right there.

“HhhHA-AH!”

It was right there, right on the edge, bristling like a mad thing-

“KUH-HUHHT! HAAAHH-AA! … … … AAAATTSSCCCHHHIIIUUU!!”

And then, it was out. At last, it was out.

Oh, sweet relief.

One would not be enough. As soon as the first was free, its entourage came right after, bringing with them just as much relief as their prince. “AHHHht’SHAO! K’SHOO! Huh-SHKSH! K’SH-! SHOO! H’ehshESH! K’kehsh! H’ehsh…! … SHOO!”

Ten would not be enough. Each sneeze was like a balm to the raw insides his nose had become. Never had he known such a persistent itch, and finally it was being scratched, scratched, scratched, from the back to the front with sneezes like raking fingers. “AhppSHOO! Hh-huSHOO! -shIEW! Ekk-shoo!ksh’ksh’ksh-SHOO! EPSH! H’hek’SHH! Ah’KSH! Hh! Hut-TCHOO! Hyet-! … tsCHOO! A’chshoo! Snf! Huh! H’kt’tschoo! K’TSCHOO! K-K’SCH! K-k-Keh!HETCH! Ah..! AHPSH! H’psh! Kuh-huh! H’ktshoo-h-hh’tsh!TSH!TSH!”

Thirty would not be enough. Arkady was more than happy to let his senses take over and, sneeze after sneeze, loosen the shackles of his misery. At some point, he had remembered his napkin (or maybe someone had pressed it into his hands—he was completely oblivious to the rest of the world now) and sneezing into that felt even better. He buried his nose into the folds, and it ached wonderfully. “Hehh… Hehhh… Phew…” This time the sneezes weren’t sticking so much as they were giving him a chance to breathe. His nose wouldn’t keep him from reprieve for longer than it needed to. “Heh’et-SHAhh! Het’sha! Het-t-t-SHOO! Kuh’hehSHOO! HehSHOO! H’shoo! H’sh, h’sh, h’sh, h’sh, huh-! hhhH! HUT-SHHHKKSH! SH’KSH! Hef’SHAH! Nnnn’SHEH! Neh’sheh! NnnnSHEH! Hehchh! HehhCHhuh! H-hHeh! Shhhehtch-tch-tch-tch-tch!TCHOO!”

Fifty would not be enough. His nose would not be satisfied until it had thoroughly banished this itch forever. They kept coming, one after another after another after another, feeling so necessary yet indulgent all at once. He gave into them completely, even as he started losing steam. “Shoo! K’shoo! Heh… hehh… hehtnnNn-!…SHOO! Huh-shoo! Huhsh-shoo…! Huhhsh…. Shhoo… Shoo, sh-sh-shoo… Snf! K’shh’nghshh… Huh… Snf… Heh! Snf, snf! Shhuhhuh… Shhuhhehuh…! Hehhhuhhhuhhhh…!”

There was one more floaty bit of something ever-so-carefully teasing him at the very back of his nose. Arkady snuffled against it, trying to spark a reaction. It was only a little one… Surely he could muster one more little one… Then he could be done with this itch for good. Sleepily pleading with his nose to grant him a final sneeze, just one small snortish huff to bluster out that last bit of tickling, that floaty feeling seemed to fluff up and fill the whole of his head with an absolutely merciless itch.

Without meaning to, without feeling any sort of control over himself, Arkady rocked on his chair’s hind legs, threw back his head, and crowed out a very finalizing, “AhhHHHH! Ha-AH!…HET’HAHT-KSHAHHH!”

And then dizzily, drowsily, Arkady’s shoulders drooped, and he sighed a long sigh. His nose was finally, finally at peace. Tired, running a bit, and even a little sore, but at peace.

He must have sneezed for about ten minutes. During the entire hypnotic event, Arkady had heard nothing but his own voice, and now that it was absent, it donned on him just how… oddly the voices around him were pitched. It sounded like arguing. How peculiar… now that his brain was coming back to him, Arkady realized that laughter or silence was a more explicable response. Just what was going on?

He opened his eyes. Desperate tears immediately spilled out, and he had to wipe them on the unused part of his napkin for quite a bit. Once that was finished, Arkady got his first good look of the dining room…

… A majority of which was obscured by a bevy of royal guards, swords drawn and poised in a semicircle around his chair.

Arkady turned side to side rapidly. Queen Cveta was gone from her place at the the table, and so was Pedja, who had been sitting across from him. To his left began the guards, and directly behind him was Jaga, a hand on his chair, smiling wanly down at him.

“Well, well. Seems Ilari is with you after all. Feeling better, Prince Arkady?” she asked, in a taut voice barely hinted with her patented humor.

Arkady still had the napkin around his nose. “Um,” he said from behind it, “what’s going on?”

Jaga gave a single bitter laugh. “The tea never lies,” she said. “Something important did happen today, Prince, and it wasn’t your sister’s betrothal. There was an attempt on your life.”

That was the last thing he had expected. Arkady’s eyes widened. “Wait… Then Mother… Pedja—”

“Are fine,” Jaga filled in quickly. “And so are you, thanks to the gods.” She held up a wine glass, which Arkady realized had been his own. “This,” she said, “is poisoned. I took it from you as soon as you started sneezing. You’re only alive because you couldn’t drink it.” She studied the red liquid. “You’re only alive,” she said distantly, “because the gods willed it so.”

__________________________________________________

An entire week passed before Vjera saw her brother again. Queen Cveta had ordered that he spend that entire time praying: three days fasting, the following four without, but no visitors to interrupt. Vjera and the rest of her family were required to pray too, but not as intensely. Arkady was, according to their mother, currently in the gods’ highest favor, and therefore it was especially necessary that he thank them profusely for his life and ask that Gornoye find a way to reach peace with Derevo.

Queen Cveta left the prayers to her children; she had always been more engaged in the political side of her job, though technically the guard was meant to be in charge of such decisions. Vjera spent her days trying to find out what she could about Prince Ivar: if he had orchestrated the attack on her brother, or if only that angry fellow Sacha had been behind it. Either way, the betrothal was off. Vjera couldn’t say that part exactly disappointed her.

The poison in the wine Arkady had almost drank was slow-acting and difficult to detect. Jaga would not have suspected poison at all, if the sneezing hadn’t alerted her to trouble. It was only after Jaga voiced her suspicions that Queen Cveta asked Sacha to drink; and when he refused, everything had seemed to erupt. Jaga had been working most of the week to even determine what Sacha had used as a toxin. Vjera wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the ways in which the poison would have hurt Arkady. The thought of how close her brother had been to death made her heart pound enough as it was.

At the end of his week of prayers, Vjera was there to greet Arkady outside his bedroom. It was early, and the sky was pink. When he saw her, he looked relieved; for both of them, it seemed seeing was believing, and it was nice to finally have proof the other was all right. They embraced, and then immediately began talking as they walked down the verandah steps.

“You weren’t hurt, were you? You were so close to Ivar. He didn’t try anything, did he?”

“Me? Nothing happened to me; it’s you who was threatened.”

“I don’t really feel like I was,” Arkady admitted. His face looked thinner from the three-day fast. “I suppose that still hasn’t really sunk in. I thanked the gods over and over, but I’m not sure how sincere I sounded. I don’t even know what would have happened if they hadn’t intervened.”

“You would have died,” Vjera said. “And maybe we would have never known why.”

“Then you would have been the heir apparent, and Prince Ivar would have had a good reason to merge the kingdoms,” Arkady said, as if he were reciting it. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot these days.”

“I’ve been thinking about that too much these days,” Vjera sighed. “We may go to war with Derevo over this. For a moment, I want to stop worrying and just be grateful you’re alive…” Her voice broke off at the end.

Arkady paused, put a hand on her shoulder. “I haven’t gone anywhere, Vjera. And neither have you. We have our family. We’re going to be all right.”

She leaned into his hug again, but it was cut short when she felt him try to pull away only seconds later. There was something curiously familiar about the action… and sure enough, when Arkady was far enough away to see his face clearly, his expression was a snarled mask not unlike the one he’d modeled only seven days ago.

“Hhuhhh… hhehhthh…”

He wavered there, his head bobbing once, twice, before snapping down with a modest, “Hef’SHOO!”

Once it was out, his shoulders drooped considerably, and he rubbed a hand across his face. “Oh, thank goodness… For a second, I was worried all that was about to start up again…”

Vjera couldn’t help laughing a bit. “Even after it saved your life?”

“Hey,” Arkady defended with a smirk, “if you knew what it felt like, you wouldn’t want it to happen again either.”

Vjera shook her head. They kept walking. “How did it feel to finally sneeze after all that time, anyway?” she asked, needing a little levity.

Arkady winced, frowning. It was as if he were reliving the ordeal. “It felt like I had been tied in a knot all day and I’d finally been loosened. Or like there had been something unbalanced inside of me and it was balancing again. It wasn’t exactly a good feeling… but it also felt absolutely amazing… Am I making any sense?”

Vjera raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying it was worth the wait?”

Arkady snorted a laugh. “It had to be worth the wait,” he said, “because if it hadn’t been, I would have just gone and downed that whole glass of wine.”

#snz kink #sneeze kink #snz fiction #I don't know what tags people use haha #it's male btw

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cordonia-continued · 4 years

Text

Captivated

Chapter 19

AU- TRR Liam x MC (Riley Taylor)

A/N - Set after the Tariq scandal is cleared. Liam ends his engagement to Madeleine and proposes to MC as per the original story, but Riley turns him down. This AU follows their life from then on.

Chapter Summary - Liam addresses the Paparazzi with a statement about privacy and lets it officially be known Riley is his girlfriend. (I might have ‘borrowed’ from an actual British Royal family press statement here and changed it up slightly 😉) Short filler chapter before some actual drama in the next chapter.

Word count - 955

@kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam @amandablink @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @mom2000aggie

catch up here

The next morning Madeleine is sitting at her desk in her office at the palace sifting through her emails when her desk phone rings. Gabriella the kings personal assistant is on the other end of the line.

“Countess Madeleine, good morning. His Majesty has asked that you meet with him in his study at your earliest convenience.”

Madeleine hangs up the phone, her lips curling into a sly smile. She hopes that this means that Liam has finally seen sense about the tacky little waitress and that he wants her to handle the fall out. He’s had the paparazzi photos of her lips locked onto that handsome agent of hers for 3 days now, she wondered how long it would take him to come to the realisation that the crown is no place for a commoner.

Ten minutes later, she arrives as his door a triumphant smile playing at her lips.

“Your Majesty, you wanted to see me?” She enters and takes a seat in front of his desk.

“Yes Madeleine, I want you to issue a statement to the press. I’ve written it already, I just need you to send it out to all of the national newspaper editors please.”

“I’m not aware of any statement, what’s it about? Let me guess you want me to let it be known that you’re once again Cordonia’s most eligible bachelor?” She purrs.

“Here.” He hands her a printed copy. She reads it aloud.

“Due to a spate of unacceptable and unprecedented paparazzi behaviour, including attempts to breach the privacy of His Majesty The King and his girlfriend Lady Riley Taylor using long-range lenses. What?” Her face drops “You’re still together? You really are a love sick fool if even photos of her kissing another man aren’t enough to make you see sense.” She narrows her green eyes at him.

“Madeleine I will not have this conversation with you. We both know that those photos show nothing more than a friendly greeting, Jacob Henley is nothing more to her than her agent and a friend.”

“If you say so Liam.” She forces out through gritted teeth.

“I do.”

“Do you not think it crass to call her your girlfriend in a statement? Is this really the most appropriate way of making it public? This is going to cause a media storm, you know that right?”

“That’s what she is, what else am I to call her? It’s common knowledge that we’re together, there have been photos in the papers for weeks now. There’s no harm in confirming it.”

“Hmmm.” She continues. ‘He demands that it stop. Lady Riley should, like any other individual, be able to go about her everyday business without this kind of violation of her privacy. The situation is proving intolerable for all concerned. Should it continue the Royal Family will issue legal proceeding against those involved.’ Is this really necessary? I mean it’s to be expected of ones life in the royal family is it not? And has she not courted the press for her own gain? There’s not a magazine in Cordonia that her face isn’t plastered all over.”

“Photographs of her and I together in private, or of her and her friends whilst out are not the same as posed photos for fashion magazines and interviews Madeleine. The media need to respect our privacy, she shouldn’t have to look over her shoulder wondering if someone is going to photograph her half naked in her bedroom again like at Applewood.”

Madeleine changes her voice to a softer comforting tone.

“Liam, look, you’ve had your fun. Surely now it’s time to step up and realise that Cordonia needs a Queen, one that can actually rule along side it’s King. One that actually knows and cares about the country. One that's not going to embarrass you by kissing other men in public. The people will appreciate it in the long run. I can handle the fall out of the break up with the media.” She pauses thoughtfully placing her index finger to her painted red lips. “No doubt she’ll want to get her side out first, if I get a head start on this I can spin it favourably for you.”

“Madeleine enough.” Liam raises his voice and narrows his eyes at her. “Let me guess, you’d be oh so willing to step in as a replacement?”

Her lips turn up once again in that sly smile.

“Well, now you mention it, I am still the best option for a Queen for this country. My offer still stands Liam.” She leans over his desk towards him and puts her hand on his forearm. She bites her lip seductively at him. “Or you know maybe we could actually make a go of it together ourselves.” He cuts her off and moves his arm out of her reach.

“Oh hell no! Madeleine that is not happening. I am not breaking up with Riley.”

“Well let’s just hope those photos don’t get out online or in the papers.” She huffs sinking back into her chair.

“I thought you’d said you dealt with it? If those photos are published I will take that as a sign that you are unable to do your job properly and I will have no choice but to reconsider your employment with the crown. Do you understand?”

“Liam don’t be such a sap.”

“Do you understand Madeleine!”

“Urgh, yes Liam!”

“Good. I want the editor’s codes of practice and the Privacy Act legislation looked at by the royal family lawyers to see anywhere that it can be strengthened and tightened. I want a proposal written up to do so put before the Council at our next meeting.”

“Fine. I’ll get onto it now.”

“Good.”

#trr fanfic #choices trr #trr liam #liam x riley #liam x mc #trr mc x liam #king liam

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shockapella-sweet · 5 years

Text

Mortal Kombat Fanfic Ideas

‘Cause after watching the Story Mode for Mortal Kombat 11, I’ve been hit by a ton of feels and needed to let them out before my candyfloss brain melted:

A series of ficlets where, just before Liu Kang and Kitana create a new timeline from scratch, various characters/OTPs (eg. Hanzo and Kuai, Ermac and Kenshi, Cassie and her parents, etc) are temporarily stuck in a purgatory-like void where they reminisce over everything that’s happened to them from MK9′s events onward, question what will become of them, and finally say their last farewells - or, possibly, “Until meet again” - in case they do/don’t ever see each other again in the new timeline.

Past!Jax and Jacqui Briggs talking about Takeda on the boat en-route to Shang Tsung’s Island, with Jax hearing about how they got engaged and how they want to plan their wedding, to how Present!Jax is still wary of Takeda marrying his baby girl and the possibility of being left alone on the farm. It can sort of end with past!Jax promising Jacqui to support her marriage to Takeda, and that when the time comes, he wants to walk her down the aisle.

A look at how Johnny Cage and Sony Blade reconciled between the events of MKX and MK11 (’cause God alone knows I wanna know how that happened).

A slashfic that also explains why Kung Jin isn’t in MK11: perhaps some time after the events of MKX, he pursues a romantic/sexual relationship with Erron Black, something which Dark Raiden and the Shaolin monastery don’t approve of (not so much because of his orientation, but more so because he’s seeing a member of Kotal Kahn’s court, making Black an enemy of Earthrealm). So Dark Raiden has Jin return to the White Lotus as punishment, and he can’t even help out in MK11. Then, in Liu Kang and Kitana’s new timeline, evil characters like Shang Tsung don’t exist, meaning Erron isn’t and can’t become immortal; he’s still born in the American Frontier years, and goes on to become one of the most famous outlaws in history, but eventually dies due to his normal human lifespan. Hundreds of years later, Jin - also alive in this new timeline - is a Law student/Shaolin monk-in-training. However, when he finds out about Erron Black in his research about past crimes and Earthrealm laws at a library (or in the Shaolin archives), he suddenly remembers that he knows this outlaw from somewhere, and the only possible person who can explain everything is Raiden. Cue all the angst, finger-pointing and even more angst.

Past!Kabal is apprehended by Special Forces after Sonya Blade’s chapter in MK11 (and directly after Kano’s death). He’s taken to an interrogation room of sorts, where Present!Johnny Cage is there to meet him. Kabal expects Johnny to torture and burn him alive, as Kano claimed would happen at the fight club. Instead, Johnny shows Kabal a picture of Stryker, explaining that the police officer was his partner (professionally and possibly romantically). Johnny tells him the truth about his burns and his becoming a revenant, and that if Kabal had continued his police training instead of joining the Black Dragon, perhaps he would have had a shot at true happiness, no matter how brief it lasted.

A slashfic about Kenshi and Ermac, and their last moments dying together in the Krypt, based on @paleicelight‘s stunning artwork.

Hanzo Hasashi recounts his entire life-story spanning from MK9 to MK11 ... in the style of Bridget Jones’ Diary.

Kitana reuniting with Sindel and King Jerrod in a peaceful Edenia.

A Hangover-type fic where, after Shinnok’s defeat in MKX, S-F, the Lin Kuei and the Shirai Ryu clans have a raucous celebration ... come the next morning, Johnny and Sonya are suddenly married again after flying out to Vegas, Hanzo ends up with a mysterious love-bite on his neck, Jacqui thinks Takeda and Cassie hooked up after finding them in bed together, Raiden goes missing, Shinnok’s decapitated head is found lying in a puddle of beer (and may or may not be slightly tipsy), and Erron Black comes all the way from Outworld claiming that everyone at the palace has been frozen in ice and that someone stole his hat in the middle of the night. The only one who knows what’s going on is Kung Jin, who doesn’t drink. Of course, he’s not gonna explain what happened that easily.

Kuai Liang breaks down some time after fighting Noob Saibot, and Hanzo tries to comfort him, because he knows the pain of losing loved ones. Could be slash or not.

Smoke is alone and afraid in the Netherrealm, feeling like he’s been abandoned by Kuai Liang after all these years of suffering. Suddenly, Geras appears out of nowhere and tries to persuade him to join Kronika’s cause. In the process, Smoke either makes a genuine friend or “disappears” if he refuses.

Liu Kang and Kitana start out crafting the new timeline with good intentions. However, after a long while, they start manipulating time to suit their own needs, and repeatedly reboot the timeline when they see fit, even going as far as to erase their friends and allies from history altogether. In other words, they become the very thing Liu-liu defeated: Kronika ..

After passing on his protector duties to Liu Kang, Raiden feels at peace for the first time in years. After advising Liu Kang and Kitana in shaping the new timeline, he enjoys his mortal state and its little pleasures. From seeing the Kombat Kids moving onto new ventures in their lives, to seeing Earthrealm, Outworld, Edenia and all the other realms working together, Raiden can’t be any more happier. By the time he dies - in a warm bed at the Sky Temple, perhaps surrounded by his friends and loved ones - he is truly at peace, and is ready for the joys of the afterlife.

A complete retelling of MK11′s Story Mode ... BUT with some of the missing characters from MKX. Picture it: Kronika brings back Mileena to help Shao Kahn (also by bringing her back, it appeases Shao Kahn and makes him trust Kronika more). However, Mileena is conflicted between helping Daddy Dearest when he’s indirectly working with D’Vorah, her executioner, or working with Kitana to take back Outworld’s throne - although that means working with Kotal Kahn, who also had a hand in her death. Meawhile, Reptile and Ferra/Torr are convinced by Kronika to join her in her cause, as they see the potential of their races coming back to life in the timeline reboot (seeing her bring back past kombatants solidifies their trust in her - if she’s got that kind of power, then surely she can restore their races without question). Kuai Liang and Hanzo bump into Noob Saibot and Revenant!Smoke at the factory: not only does it pain Kuai to see his brother still alive and quite evil, but to see his best friend - his brother in arms - working alongside Noob for Kronika’s cause just about breaks him. For the Jax and Jacqui story arc, instead of a crown of souls they have to fetch, it’s actually Ermac that Kronika’s really after (being a huge soul collective and all); given he’s still part of Kotal Kahn’s remaining court, the emperor has the construct protected; in steps Kenshi, who has an inkling that he and Ermac were close friends in a past timeline, so he picks himself to guard Ermac. This causes conflict with both past!Jax (who’s miffed about losing his arms) and present!Jax (who’s equally miffed PLUS needs to take Ermac - alive - to Kronika). Cue a conflict of interest also erupting between Kenshi and Jax, and how this may affect Takeda and Jacqui’s relationship. Meanwhile, Kung Jin is back with the White Lotus (possibly for the reasons above or not), and is able to help out after Dark Raiden’s demise: he fights alongside Kung Lao and Liu Kang (which has so much potential for family fluff, introspection on their past lives, discussion of cultural values, Jin’s homosexuality, etc), as well as assist S-F (maybe during the Black Dragons’ assault on S-F, or when they raid the fight club). With his knowledge, maybe Raiden and everyone could potentially find Kronika’s Keep a lot sooner than later. Also, “By the Elder Gods, Black, walking around in the Outworld sun did you no f****** favours in the future.”

Kabal settling down with Sareena, based on his Tower Ending ... ha ha, just kidding! As if I’d do something like that. XP

That’s it. I think that’s all I’ve got so far. I think it’s a decent-ish mix of drama, romance and humour.

Whether or not I will actually write these fics some day, I don’t know. But it’s fun thinking about the possibilities, especially after how MK11′s Story Mode broke me. ^3^

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a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives · 5 years

Text

Ready for lift-off

Espionage thriller Summer of Rockets is the first screen work from acclaimed writer/director Stephen Poliakoff to draw on his own life, set in 1958 at the height of the Cold War. He and executive producer Helen Flint talk to DQ about merging fact and fiction.

As a writer and director for the screen over the past four decades, Stephen Poliakoff has been behind work that has amassed numerous Bafta, Emmy, Golden Globe and Peabody awards. The playwright, who learned his craft in the theatre, counts series and films such as Perfect Strangers, The Lost Prince, Friends & Crocodiles, Gideon’s Daughter, Joe’s Palace and Capturing Mary, as well as recent dramas Dancing on the Edge and Close to the Enemy, among his extensive credits.

Yet for all his fascination with the past – among many examples, Dancing on the Edge trails a black jazz group in 1930s London and Close to the Enemy is set in the aftermath of the Second World War – his latest series is the first to draw on his own family and life experiences.

Written and directed by Poliakoff, Summer of Rockets is a semi-autobiographical drama set during 1958, a year that marked the height of the Cold War as fear and suspicion clashed with the start of the mobile revolution and the Space Race. It was also the last time debutants were presented to the Queen at Buckingham Palace and the year of the Notting Hill riots in West London.

Stephen Poliakoff, writer and director of Summer of Rockets, pictured during filming

Poliakoff says the fact it is partly based on his own life marks Summer of Rockets out as “significantly different” from anything he’s done for the screen before.

“My first real memories are from this time – I was five in 1958 – so I could feel, even as a small child, the apprehension in the air, the feel of nuclear war,” he says. “The Russians were the enemy and yet I was half-Russian, so that made me feel an extraordinary sense isolation as a child. I was also sent to boarding school, as we see in the story, and was the only Jewish boy there. That was why I was drawn to this time.

“There’s a lot of resonance for us now, as Russia again seems to be our enemy and there is also unfortunately, tragically, anti-Semitism in Europe and it’s coming back to the UK. Well, it never goes away. But above all, it was a sense of the absolute epicentre of the Cold War; the fact nobody could be trusted, especially if they were foreigners.”

Another parallel between that period and today, he notes, is the “humiliation” of the Suez Crisis in 1958, which left Britain “a laughing stock” on the world stage. “Things have happened since I’ve written the piece and we’ve become a laughing stock for very different reasons, with people harking back to a sense of our past glories, which also plays a part in the story,” Poliakoff says. “This is not a story about Brexit or a metaphor for it, but nevertheless there are resonances in the piece.”

Toby Stephens (Black Sails) stars as Samuel Petrukhin, a Russian Jewish émigré modelled on Poliakoff’s father Alexander, an inventor and designer of hearing aids, whose clients include former UK prime minister Winston Churchill. The series also focuses on Samuel’s wife, Miriam (Lucy Cohu), and their children, Hannah (Lily Sacofsky) and Sasha (Toby Woolf). In the show, having developed a new paging system for hospitals, Samuel is is approached by the UK’s domestic intelligence agency MI5 to demonstrate his work.

Set in 1958, the series stars Toby Stephens as Samuel, who is based on Poliakoff’s father

However, it’s not his inventions the agency (led by Mark Bonnar’s mysterious Field) is interested in but his fledging friendship with MP Richard Shaw (Linus Roache) and his wife Kathleen (Keeley Hawes), who also introduce him to Lord Arthur Wellington (Timothy Spall). As Samuel’s life becomes intertwined with his mission, he is left to question how far he is willing to let things unravel for his cause and who he can trust.

It was Poliakoff’s discovery that his father had been suspected of bugging Churchill’s hearing aid, a revelation he first heard when a journalist contacted him about newly released government papers in 2007, that sparked the story behind Summer of Rockets,

“It took me a long time to think about writing it because it meant revisiting my youth and a very traumatic time at boarding school,” he says. “I also tend to write slightly away from my immediate family experience because I find it easier to invent like that. But, after quite a considerable while, because the story kept haunting me, I broached it to the BBC.”

His father’s work, he explains, is truthfully reflected in the story by his hearing aids business, the deaf workers he employs in the factory and his invention of the paging system, which he created for St Thomas’ Hospital in London.

“But I always saw that as a jumping-off point for Keeley’s side of the story,” Poliakoff continues. “My father was besotted with everything English; he was a real anglophile. He was a Russian Jew but he wanted to be an English gentleman, so there’s the story of him being involved in this English upper-class family who have their own darkness and trauma hidden away in a magnificent house. They have charm and grace, they entertain people, but this covers a deep unhappiness.

“My father would have loved to have been entertained in such a house, so that was what led me from that jumping-off point for the fictitious side of the story, but it’s based on the sort of things my father loved and was attracted to by English life and aspired to. The story curve shows Samuel learning that he doesn’t want to be the perfect English gentleman.”

Bodyguard and The Durrells star Keeley Hawes plays Samuel’s wife, Miriam Richard’s wife, Kathleen

Through the first episode, the story is laid bare against the backdrop of rockets being launched and rising anxiety over what might lie ahead, coupled with the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder that stem from the still-raw fallout of the Second World War. Samuel’s technological achievements also shine a light on how industry was set to move forward rapidly over the next decade.

“When you have six hours of television drama, it’s a big canvas. The joy of longform is that you can build a complex world and you can delve deeper into character than you can in a two-hour movie,” Poliakoff says. “It’s great to try to be ambitious when you’re given that length of screen time.”

Helen Flint, MD of Little Island Productions and Poliakoff’s long-time producing partner, admits the writer’s outlines need very little development as they are often fully formed, “very detailed and very ambitious” by the time she becomes involved.

“The thing is to identify where and how you’re actually going to make it happen,” she says. “Both of us have been around far too long. Therefore, between us and the heads of department, we can work out how to put this on the screen, which is our craft.”

With all of Poliakoff’s work filmed on location, the first task on Summer of Rockets was to find the house belonging to Richard and Kathleen Shaw, which is a constant presence during all six episodes. They eventually settled on Benington Lordship, a grand setting close to Stevenage, 35 miles north of London, which is notable for the Norman keep adjoining the 17th century house and expansive gardens.

Catastrophe’s Mark Bonnar plays the head of MI5

“The other important thing was when to film it, because getting lucky with sunshine in this country is not a given – so the schedule is everything,” Flint says.

Finding London streets that could double for the time period also proved problematic, with the slums of Notting Hill in 1958 far removed from the affluent neighbourhood it is today. Another set piece saw a queue of 1950s cars lined up along The Mall, leading to Buckingham Palace, which was filmed early in the morning to avoid the crowds of tourists usually occupying the area.

“It takes a huge amount of work, more work than anybody would imagine, weeks and weeks, and then huge amounts in post-production just to paint out silly lines and stuff like that,” Flint says of filming in London. “After that, it’s all of the countryside, the driving [scenes] and the minutiae. But because we’ve got a cast that is working all the time, we have to try to jigsaw them all in, which is very complicated at certain points. Once you have those actors, the schedule is dictated by that. Then other problems come to the fore because if they’re not available, you can’t do the locations. London exteriors are the hardest, and then piecing it together is a massive jigsaw.”

In some cases, however, the reality on which some of the series is based was too extreme to be dramatised. Poliakoff decided to tone down scenes where Sasha is at boarding school, as his own experiences at school were too “draconian” to be depicted exactly as he remembered.

Summer of Rockets debuts on BBC2 tomorrow

“When I started writing it, I realised it had to be more interesting and more inventive than the actual thing I experienced, which in reality was relentlessly grim,” he says. “A little bit of that was fine, but I didn’t think an audience would stand for that being repeated in each scene. So, oddly enough, the bit that was closest to reality was the most difficult to write.”

The series sees Poliakoff reunited with Stephens, who starred in his 2001 family reunion drama Perfect Strangers, while this was his first time working with Hawes despite having known her since she was just 19. “She starred in my wife Sandy Welch’s adaptation of Our Mutual Friend 20 years ago,” he recalls of the actor, who has recently starred in Line of Duty, The Durrells and Bodyguard. “I’ve known her for some time and we’ve always wanted to work together. She’s phenomenal in her role, which is a really very juicy role, so I’m thrilled. I think she gives one of her greatest performances.”

Following Summer of Rockets’ launch on UK pubcaster BBC2 tomorrow, all six episodes will be made available on the pubcaster’s VoD platform iPlayer. The drama is distributed internationally by BBC Studios. “‘Bingeable’ is not the prettiest word but, actually, I think my work was born to be binged,” Poliakoff notes. “People over the years have always told me they’ve sat down to watch something like Perfect Strangers, which is only four hours long. They tend to watch the first part and then they’re there four hours later.

“So I very much hope the story has that effect. It does have quite a powerful story that gathers and evolves and changes. It’s great for people to watch it in a linear way or in an immersive way. Either way, I hope people will really get into it.” - Michael Pickard (Drama Quarterly)

#toby stephens #this writer got wrong with kelsey's name #it is kathleen not miriam lol #jeez #summer of rockets #interview

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dailyaudiobible · 5 years

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05/16/2019 DAB Transcript

1 Samuel 18:5-19:24, John 8:31-59, Psalms 112:1-10, Proverbs 15:12-14

Today is the 16th day of May. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I’m Brian and it's good to be here with you as we move toward the back half of the week or move into the back half of the week. And, like we’ve been saying, we’re kind of simultaneously moving through the back half of the book of first Samuel, which is full of drama and intrigue and incredible lessons for our own lives as we watch the intertwining of King Saul and this new kid that's kind of come on the scene named David. And, so, we’ll pick up with the story where we left off yesterday. We’re reading from the Voice Translation this week. First Samuel chapter 18 verse 5 through 19 verse 24 today.

Commentary:

Okay. So, anytime you have like royalty or any kind of dignitaries coming through town, right, there's usually going to be some sort of crowd. Usually there’d be some sort of speech too, but there’s gonna be some sort of crowd and that's been going on throughout history. So, like, even today if royalty or a leader of a nation makes a visit then their arrivals gonna be covered on the news. Depending on how how connected they are to the people, there’ll be throngs of people, right? Like, if Britain's royalty comes to the United States or something and they’ve got the kids, there's gonna be all kinds of people. So, it was no different for King Saul when he returned victorious in battle. There was a celebration, there was pageantry, there were people, there was dancing, there were all kinds of people who wanted to get a glimpse of the king, but after David killed Goliath the song that the young women were singing at these…at this pageantry was that Saul had killed thousands but David had killed tens of thousands, which, of course, freaked Saul out. He already was fragile and very afraid of what people thought, right? We’ve watched that throughout the story of Saul and his coronation. So, he's freaked out about this and he ends up saying like, “what's left? what's left for David, but just to take the kingdom?” And, so, this made Saul very insecure and jealousy was planted in that fertile soil and then rage, and Saul tried to kill David with a spear. Of course, David now…we’re kind of watching him come up on the other side of this story and he's just trying to figure out what is going on because he's gone from complete obscurity to like this national hero and he keeps getting assigned tasks by the king, and he has access to the king and it's just like he's a lowly person. So, he’s just trying to figure out what's going on, but he has learned quickly how to protect himself, right, like how to stay alive. It’s not that he wasn't learning this is a shepherd, but now he's like, he has to become a warrior to survive. His life has changed dramatically, and Saul keeps hatching these plots to send David into battle, hoping that the someone else, and normally it’s the Philistines, will kill David and then it's just over and they can have national morning but that'll be the end of David. And he's trying to marry David into the family, like he's trying everything he can to control David without realizing that David's loyal. Like David’s not trying to do anything but to support the king, but Saul's paranoia and fear of man and jealousy and rage have absolutely got the best of him. And, so he keeps coming up with these plans to kill David. And, so he's like, “okay, you can marry my daughter, Michael. I just need the foreskins of 100 Philistines.” Okay. That is the strangest bride price ever. And David goes out and gets 200 foreskins and it’s so weird because did they circumcise all these guys like after the killed them and bring their foreskins back or did they just have a basket full of manhood's, which is probably more true to what happened but even still, like you come in before the king and you’ve got a basket full of manhood's, 200 of them. How to you…I mean...I don't know…how do you celebrate that victory? Is everybody in the palace dancing in circles around the basket? Like, who knows. It’s just a strange bride price but David pays it and the plan was that David would get killed trying to pay that bride price but instead he’s successful. And, so, Michal, who’s Saul's daughter, who loves David is married to David and now David is the king's son-in-law, but Saul still wants to kill him, and he is willing to kill him right in his own bed. So, we see just how intermeshed and entangled and messed up the relationship is between Saul and David. But we can find ourselves in both of these men's lives. I mean, there are times that we truly do shine and then there are times that we are completely disconnected from ourselves and all of our relationships and both Saul and David knew who the God of Israel was, both of these guys, even though they’re acting completely different to the circumstances. Both of them worshiped God, but Saul's insecurity and jealousy pulled him continually away from God while David fundamentally new that God was his only possible hope for survival. And we see those kinds of things coming out in the Psalms of David. So, the men's lives at this point, they are irreversibly intertwined, like there's no way to go back to how things used to be when the king didn't even know who David was. So, their lives are intertwined, but they are on comp completely different and divergent paths with God and we should pay close attention to where those two paths lead because we can find ourselves in both of these people's character. And, so, we can also take their story and find out where their paths go as we choose our path forward. All of our insecurities, right, all our comparison are only gonna continue to plague us and they’ll eventually cause chaos and destruction in our lives or we can realize as David is realizing, there is no way to survive, there is no hope outside of utter dependence on God. So, let's think as we move through this day. Which path am I even on because it's never too late to change course.

Prayer:

Father, we invite You into that. We can see the characteristics in these two people in our own lives. We can be both of these people with both of these kinds of characteristics on the same day. And, so, we recognize that, and we invite Your Holy Spirit to continue to illuminate through the story found in first Samuel of Saul and David which path we are on and to give us clarity on where these paths lead so that we understand where it is were going to end up if we stay on the path that we’re on. Come Holy Spirit we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com, is the website, its home base, its where you find out what's going on around here. So, be sure to stay tuned, stay connected in any way that you can. Check out the Community section dailyaudiobible.com for all of the different links to all the different social media channels where…and it's a good idea…it's a good idea to follow us on Twitter or Facebook or Instagram, wherever…wherever it is the that you like to be because we post updates there, things like what song was played and links to the songs when we play songs and announcements if we’re having any issues, technical issues, or otherwise, any other things that are going on. It’s a good place to stay connected. So, check that out.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that dailyaudiobible.com. There’s a link, it's on the homepage. Thank you profoundly for your partnership. If you're using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment, 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that is it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello, this is Lori Music. What a great God we serve? Actually, I used to call myself the transplant from Chicago down to Heber Springs Arkansas and now I just usually say Lori Music from Heber Springs, but I just wanted to reach out. Nine years ago, a lovely young lady with the name of Constance called in and Constance I just want to let you know I am still praying for you. I am still believing for God’s favor for you and your marriage. I am pleading the blood of Jesus over you. I am praying over your atmosphere, that you have warring angels fighting against the principalities of the air to keep you safe from any harm that may come your way. So, Constance know that you’re loved, and I pray that you’re still listening to DAB. And Jerry from Duluth Minnesota, it was such a delight to hear from you again. I always enjoyed hearing from you when you’re on your paper route. So, thanks so much for calling back in. That really touched my soul. And to all you DABbers, keep calling in, such wonderful memories and we’re such a huge family and even though I don’t call in much know that I am praying for each and every one. So, God bless, have a blessed day.

Well, hello from beautiful Cincinnati Ohio this is Daniel Johnson Junior. It’s been a while since I called last. Been listening to the DAB for…actually it’s going on my 10th year been getting ready to begin my 10th year. I remember June 2009. But I just wanted to call in a couple of things. Tamika, I’m just praying for you. The situation that you’re finding yourself in is definitely…it’s definitely hard, but it’s definitely…you know…the thing that Brian has revealed to us as he’s gone through the Scriptures over the years with us is…and I hope that you understand…is that God is always at work to redeem us. You know, as long as we are alive, our story is not over. And I think that’s something…that is encouragement that I take on for myself constantly and I think that’s important for us to remember, that God is never done with us and he can work through any situation. As we’re reading even in the Scriptures how He’s worked through the situations that we’ve gone through already. And I wanted to encourage you with that. Also, Jerry from Duluth Minnesota, I heard your call on Tuesday, May the 14th and I just…you just brought back a sense of joy into my heart just to hear you calling again and I just wanted to say thanks for calling in and keeping up with DAB. And then guys if you could just pray for me. Two years ago, I had to say goodbye to my stepsister who was found dead, you know, and just…this is the anniversary of that. My stepmother, with it being Mother’s Day…its been a rough weekend. So, if you could just keep me in your prayers, my family, my sister-in-law, my wife’s sister, also was her birthday and she’s no longer here either. And, so, it’s just a bittersweet time for us. The grief has been kind of hard for me. So, guys I love you, God is so good all the time, all the time God is good. May God bless us and bless you. So, make it a great day.

Good morning DAB family, this is Patty from sunny Southern California. I have a horse sanctuary ministry. I’ve been listening since September of 2007 and I just love this program and I love the prayers afterwards and kind of getting to know people and I just heard Jerry the mail carrier call after being gone for such a long time. Welcome back! And he mentioned someone I think about often, Natasha from New York. What ever happened to you girl? Well out of all of you - Brian, Jill, Blind Tony, the prayer warriors - but I was just moved with Jerry’s call because it was an old familiar voice. Now I know I don’t call that often. I’m gonna try to do it a little more often. I love my DAB family. God bless you all.

Hello DAB family this is Abiding in Him. I want to pray for Mark Street and his son William. Heavenly Father we thank You for Your love and for Your faithfulness. We thank You for Your grace and Your mercy. And we thank You Lord that You wake us up every day with a purpose, a reason, and that You haven’t let a single one of us slip through Your hands. Heavenly Father we lift up William to You, __ loss, in his own mind, and in his own heart Lord, loss and depression heavenly Father, that he is not lost from You. Oh Lord, reach down into this Young man’s heart heavenly Father and grip it in a way that nothing else can. Not any of the addictions that try to capture our Youth or any of the entertainments that try to take their hearts away heavenly Father. Grip him in a way that only You can because You made his heat. And You know it. You know exactly what he needs to hear, when he needs to hear, and how he needs to hear it heavenly Father. And, so, Lord hear the prayer of his Father whose come requesting You and asked us to lift up our voices to You, heavenly Father for You to intervene. He is ultimately Your child Lord. Grab him, bring him home, open up his ears to good counsel, open up his mind to wisdom, open up his heart to love, and give his father patience. Know that You’re working in his heart and that You will bring that work to fruition. We thank You Lord for all that You’ve done and all that You will do on William’s life. We thank You Lord the testimony that You’re building in him. We give You glory because You’re a worthy God. You are all good all the time. We thank You Lord for Your grace and mercy in Jesus’ name.

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occasionalfics · 7 years

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Warrior, iv (Thor x Reader)

part i | part ii | part iii

Summary: This is not the reunion you could’ve even imagined. Are you making things worse by waiting?

A/N: I just want to say that you’re all so wonderful and I’m so flattered and happy that you like this so much! Everyone’s so eager for the next chapter and it makes me feel really good. Thank you so much for your kind words, even as I continue to amp up the angst and drama! <3

EDIT: Also, I don’t actually think Sif is a part of the Warriors Three since...there are three of them without her in the count...but I don’t know how to count at all so...I’m just gonna leave this note here.

Tags: @oknstark @httpmcrvel @a-girl-who-loves-disney @markusstraya @125bluemachine125 @blvckxsoulz (let me know if you want to be tagged!)

Words: 3,572

~~~

You felt terrible about your accusation all night and into the next morning. Your dreams were full of shadows transforming into people you once knew, all looking sternly at you as they towered above you. You woke early, unable to stop the nightmare from continuing. You looked for Thor at breakfast, but found only Bruce Banner whispering to Tony Stark. You ate slowly as Bruce mentioned that Captain America was busy recruiting Wakandan troops for the upcoming fight.

“He better think twice about bringing that cyborg back with him,” Tony said, perhaps low enough that he thought you wouldn’t hear. But you were Asgardian, so you did.

“Tony,” Bruce said, whining the name. “We need all the help we can get. Thor thinks the Winter Soldier will be indispensable.”

“I’ll give that Goldilocks sonofabi-”

“Tony,” Bruce warned.

They were quiet for a beat, then continued to bicker. You wondered why Tony was so against the Winter Soldier - he’d never mentioned anything around you, but perhaps it wasn’t your business. You ignored them as best as you could, focusing on the sweetness of the cereal you ate. Thor never came in for breakfast, and after you finished eating, you went back upstairs to the garden.

Since coming to the compound, you’d tended to the plants whenever they needed you, or whenever you needed to clear your mind. It was a safe place, a place to think and reflect and watch the sun rise. But that morning, it was also the place Thor had gone, probably for the same reason.

“I’m sorry,” you said when he turned at the sound of the door shutting behind you.

He shook his head. “This is your home too,” he said quietly.

You didn’t feel the need to refute the claim. In a way, the compound was your home. You lived and worked there, had helped build the very structure you were standing on.

Silently, you went and stood next to him near the edge of the porch. You had planned on pulling some of the dead plants, but suddenly your apology for the night before was more important. So you crossed your arms over one another and looked out at the sun, squinting as you said, “I’m actually sorry for last night. I said things that weren’t fair, and I blamed you for things you had no control over.”

He looked at you, standing in much the same position, and said, “I’m sorry for doubting you. I should’ve known better but…”

“But Odin was against our union from the start,” you said.

He nodded. “All the more reason I shouldn’t have listened to him, though. You were right to be angry, to think I’d abandoned you. And for that, I may never equally reconcile with you.”

There was silence then, and you looked at the plants that lined the edge of the patio. You laughed to yourself and said, “I would’ve believed my parents, had they done it the same way.” You didn’t say that it was perfectly reasonable for him to have thought you’d simply left. To say that, you’d divulge the whole story, even if you didn’t have to.

It was funny, how even after so long, you still felt like you couldn’t hide from him. Once the gates were opened, the flood would rush in, just as it always had.

“They’d never be capable of such deception,” he said. “Your father was my favorite of the court entertainers. Did I ever tell you?”

You couldn’t stop smiling, even softly, as you shook your head. “He was the favorite of many. A gifted man.”

“That he was. His illusions always fooled me. I loved them almost as much as I loved you.”

Something about the tense in which he spoke unsettled you, but you refused to let it show on your features. “If only I’d been so greatly gifted,” you whispered. Before he could protest that you had been - that you were as skilled a warrior as your father had been an illusionist - you went on: “Were my parents spared when I...left?” You lifted your face to look at him, losing all signs of jest.

“Yes,” he said. “Odin convinced Asgard that you had left of your own volition. He wasn’t fond of our relationship, but he what he lacked in empathy for us he made up for in compassion for your mother and father. I think Frigga played a large part in that, since she and your mother were so close.”

“Good,” you whispered with a curt nod. “Then, at least, Odin did not completely hate me.” Still, he had ruined any good will the Asgardian people might feel for you, simply by marking you a traitor.

And yet, Thor didn’t seem to care much about that. You wondered if his feelings clouded his judgment, or if his father’s ridiculous standards simply didn’t mean as much to him.

With a chuckle, he said, “Odin did not hate you.”

You lowered your lids and rose a brow at him.

“Why would Odin hate you?” he asked as if there couldn’t possibly be an answer to the question.

“You’re kidding, right?” you asked, sounding much too much like a Midgardian for your own liking. “I came between his heir and his choice of a wife for you. I was the reason you would not marry Sif.”

“You were one very large reason, but not the only one,” he said. “I told you that I would not deny Sif nor myself the freedom of deciding our own destinies. And you forget that Sif did not want me, either.”

Again, the past tense to his words rattled your blood. “Still, Odin blamed me.”

“You can’t know that,” he said. “Maybe he blamed you for leaving, for causing me pain, but not for allowing me the opportunity to choose you, surely.”

You sighed, though you wanted to laugh at how foolish, naive, and Romantic he sounded. Capital R-Romantic, like words could not accurately describe feelings, like pain was but a thing of the past. “Odin did not like it when his rules were broken. His word was law. He was the Allfather.”

“But he was not so unreasonable as to deny his son’s happiness.”

Fool, you thought. “Can you say the same for Loki?” you asked instead.

Thor groaned. “Loki is not Odin’s trueborn son.”

You had not heard such news, but that changed nothing. “Does that matter?” you asked. “He lived in your shadow, just like the rest of us. He was never good enough, just like I was never good enough. He always lacked some quality that Odin saw in you, like I lacked the status that Lady Sif was born into.”

He was quiet then, taking in this comparison. You could hardly believe you had made it yourself, and yet, it made sense.

“Where is Loki, right now?” you asked.

“With Asgard,” he said.

“Not ruling, surely.”

He shook his head. “No. I left him alone enough to do that once. I was not about to make the same mistake twice. He serves on a board with my trusted advisors, under the most watchful eye of Heimdall.”

You didn’t know how you felt about that, so you said nothing of it. This conversation wasn’t really about Loki, anyway. Thor’s untrustworthy...half-brother, or whatever he was, was not the real object of your concern. “I’m sure Odin would’ve loved Val, as he loved Sif,” you said. You hadn’t meant to sound jealous, but you noticed a certain twinge to the octave in which you spoke.

Thor laughed. “I’m sure Odin knew Val, actually, but he never would’ve said as much to me. Or anyone.”

You said nothing to that, knowing he was right. Odin was a keeper of secrets, it was well known throughout the palace. But when you’d lived on Asgard, you believed as your parents had: he was ancient, and knew more than most other Asgardians could even bear. Of course he kept secrets. Once you’d been exiled, of course, that opinion changed. His secrets, you thought, were meant to preserve his world, and no one else’s.

You were tired of hating Odin. The emotion had weighed you down for too long, and now he was dead. There was no use in focusing on him, so you asked instead, “She’s really the last one? “There are no more Valkyries otherwise?”

“Not that I know of,” he said with a small shrug. “I’ve spoken to her about recruiting new warriors, but she always diverts the conversation. She still feels the defeat like a mountain on her shoulders.”

As a child, you’d heard all the stories about the Valkyries. They were the best of the best, the shining crown of Asgard when it came to combat. You remembered playing in the courtyards of the palace, pretending to be one of the mythical fighters yourself. Thor had always wanted to be one as well, but Sif had always told him that the Valkyries were only women. He cared not; he would tie his long hair up and pretend to be one regardless. You’d wanted to be one yourself, but then, so did every Asgardian warrior. But it was a dream no one could fulfill.

To know that Val was the only one, that there was a possibility she might need you and Sif to rebuild the legacy of the Valkyries… It was too good to be true. You refused to let your hopes go too high on that account.

“We all have mountains to carry,” you said, dropping your arms as a breeze blew past you. You breathed in the air, glad to no longer be taking in the musty scent of Manhattan. When the wind ceased, you bent down and dug in a plot of dirt. This particular plant was thriving, so you mostly looked for any sign of weed around it. When you found none, you moved to the next plant, continuing with each subsequent plot until you were satisfied that almost all of the plants were living, breathing, and unencumbered.

You wished you could say the same for yourself.

The Guardians of the Galaxy, the rag-tag group of what you assumed were mostly bandits and assassins, were all jittery, all the time. Two of them - the green woman Gamora and the blue one, Nebula - knew what was coming. They trained night and day, though they were two of the most ruthless fighters you had ever seen.

You tried to tell them they would make excellent Valkyries, but Nebula simply sneered, her dark eyes seeming to blaze at any hint of kindness. Gamora curtly thanked you, then went back to fighting the large green man - Drax.

You hadn’t noticed Val had been in the training room until she pushed herself off the wall and came to stand next to you.

“I know you think it’s the honorable thing, to speak as if the Valkyries might one day rise again,” she whispered. “But it’s not. These people have too much to lose to think of it.”

“And you?” you asked, nodding at her. “Do you have too much to lose?”

She shrugged and smirked. “If Hela couldn’t take Asgard from me, neither can Thanos.” That was all she said before she brandished her sword, swinging it around like it weighed nothing.

You’d never seen a Valkyrie fight, but you wanted to. You always had. And now you had something of a chance. You lifted your sword and said, “Show me.”

She glared at you, her devilish smirk still playfully mocking. She walked a few paces away from you and positioned herself in a defensive position. You were confused for a moment, thinking that she would be the offensive fighter, but then decided not to think too much about it.

You brought your sword up, positioned yourself likewise, and charged. She easily blocked you, barely even grunting at the force of the weapons clashing.

“Thor says you’ve been here for some time,” she said between the metal, not even gritting her teeth as she focused on holding you back.

“Two hundred years,” you said, pulling back just enough to bring your sword up before she blocked you, once again.

“You’ve kept this the whole time?” she asked, nodding to your sword. “And in such great shape!”

You smirked, pushing against the hilt to try to get her back. She didn’t budge as you said, “I’ve had no use for it until now, but it’s the last piece of home I have.”

“Well, it was,” she said. She pushed harder than you had - hard enough to force you back a few paces, then she twirled and brought her weapon down against yours with such power that you nearly fell over backwards. “Thor told me he never thought he’d see you again.” She eased back, as if to keep you from falling. Perhaps she sensed you weren’t as seasoned a fighter as you had once been. “He’s mushy like that.”

“Does he tell you everything?” you asked, hoping to distract her enough to push back. It didn’t work.

She shrugged. “Enough, I suppose. He said you abandoned Asgard and broke his heart.” She pushed hard again, and you slammed against the wall. Val kept her distance, staring then without a smirk. You were already breathing heavy, but she looked calm and composed.

“He said that?” you asked, though you knew it was what he’d thought until last night. He’d said so himself.

She came forward, lifted her sword, and brought it down on you, though not quite as hard this time. Then she swung a few quick jabs at you, which you blocked easily enough, though you couldn’t push off the wall.

“Is it not true?” she asked, still jabbing.

“No,” you said, still blocking.

“What, then?” she asked. “I suppose it makes sense that you would keep this Asgardian treasure if you hadn’t left of your own choice. So what happened?”

You grunted as she hit harder. You tumbled away when she pulled back, hoping to change direction and gain the upper hand. She followed you with a sly turn of her heel, then came at you once more.

“This steel is from Vanaheim,” you said. “Of course I’d keep it.”

She laughed at that, but kept coming with her weapon. “You didn’t answer my question,” she said with a shake of her head.

You were able to hold off her attack above your head. “I haven’t told him yet,” you said. “How can I know you won’t tell him if I answer your question?”

She chuckled, continuing to bring down her weapon on yours; you shifted to meet her blows as well as you could. “I guess you can’t, unless you decide to trust me. One warrior to another.”

You swung your sword up again, knocking hers out of your vision before you turned and ran, though not far. Just far enough to put space between you so you could catch your breath. “I haven’t told anyone in two hundred years,” you said, louder than you meant to. Some of the other fighters in the room stopped what they were doing and stared. A few - namely Drax - got punched because of their lack of attention. You kept your eyes on Val as she approached you again.

You planted your feet in the soft mat beneath you and held your sword with it’s point out toward her, a warning not to come too close. She seemed to think that was funny; she laughed, and when she was close enough, she knocked the side of her blade into yours, sending vibrations up the hilt and into your arms and shoulders.

“So that’s the weight you bear,” she said. “Let me guess: Odin was not what Thor thinks he was?”

Of course she knew, you thought. She’d known Odin much longer than you had. The sound of his name, here in the training room, made your body heat up. You pushed back against her harder than you had before and actually set her stumbling a few feet.

“Ooh!” she practically sang, regaining her balance easily. “Of course Odin had something to do with it. If there’s a sure sign of some Asgardian destruction, it’s always his fault.” She vaulted toward you before you knew what was happening, and had her blade against the sunken skin where your collar bones dropped off. You kept your sword pointed at her, but did not move otherwise. “By some extension of him, we’ve both lost the thing we hold dearest, if I had to guess.”

You took a hard gulp, felt the point of her blade pinch your skin. It didn’t break into your throat, but it was still painful. “He banished me here,” you said. “Stole me in the middle of the night and sent me to Norway.”

Her smirk didn’t fade, but she did pull her arm back, slowly. You watched her place her sword back in its holster, beneath her hair, before you dropped your sword.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that against Thanos,” she said, coming closer to you.

You nodded, but had no further words. You fell into a sitting position against the mat and breathed heavily. You felt her sit beside you, then saw her legs stretch out and cross over one another. She leaned back on her palms before asking, “Why would Odin throw away such a talented warrior?”

“I’m not talented. I was, but I’ve fallen out of practice.”

She laughed. “Do not compare your skill with mine. I was taught by generations of the best fighters Asgard had to offer. You were taught by Thor and a man name Volstagg, from what I hear.”

You laughed, too, at how pompous she sounded. But she was a Valkyrie, you reminded yourself. She was probably right.

“You started your story,” she said, “now tell me why Odin would banish someone he could so easily put to use in his army.”

You looked over your shoulder, noticed that Thor wasn’t present. You’d been carrying this secret with you for so long that it no longer felt like a secret until you thought about it. Then, with just a fraction of attention, it blew up until it hurt to continue holding on. It might feel better to say something, you thought.

“I did break his heart,” you said. “More than once, I think. He did teach me to fight, and so did Volstagg and Lady Sif. The only teachers I could’ve had that would’ve been better were Valkyries, had they existed at the time.”

You watched her nod, but she said nothing, so you went on.

“I’ve loved him since we were children, but I was a commoner. I was not born into nobility, like Lady Sif. I spent time in the palace because my parents were in Odin’s employ, but I was not meant to be there always. I knew my feelings could never come to anything, other than as a devoted comrade in arms.” You wiped sweat from your forehead and kicked your athletic shoes off. “But he’d fallen for me, too. Odin wasn’t happy, though I think he only let me know of his disdain. Perhaps he thought he could intimidate my feelings away, I don’t know…”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” she said.

“At a public festival, he announced that Thor and Lady Sif were to be married. I had to pretend to be happy for them. But Sif and Thor agreed that they did not want to marry. Sif knew of my feelings our whole lives, and, I suppose, she knew of Thor’s as well. But I’d always known that Sif...well, she was never interested in men.”

Val’s smirk widened. “I think I like the sound of this Lady Sif.”

“I’m sure you’d love her, if I knew where she was. She was one of the best fighters I’d ever seen, and the only woman in the Warriors Three. She was loyal to me as well as to Odin.”

“But I did not ask about Sif,” Val said. “I asked about you.”

You looked at your socks and nodded. “Sif arranged for me and Thor to come together. She even consented to breaking off their engagement. Odin allowed it, I think because he respected Sif more than he cared for my feelings. I never believed he would allow me to marry his heir. He saw my love as ambition, not as true emotion. So...he had Heimdall open the bridge and sent me on my merry way.”

“And, what?” she asked. “Heimdall ignored you for 200 years?”

“I’m sure he was following orders. Strict orders. Odin told everyone that I left because I did not love Thor, or that I had changed my mind or...whatever it was he said.”

She said nothing for a bit. The only sounds around you were that of the others fighting, mostly in hand-to-hand combat. You listened to the grunts, the punches, the instructions and the bodies that slammed against the mat over and over again.

“For what it’s worth,” Val finally said. “Anyone could be a Valkyrie. Odin had no say in that, at least.”

You forced a smile. At least, it was mostly forced. There was a certain lightness to your muscles, now that you had told your story to someone, that aided in making your smile genuine. “Thank you,” you said.

#thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #warrior fic

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rainstormcolors · 7 years

Note

Prideshipping for the ship meme (Are you surprised?)

I apologize for thewait! Thank you for your patience! Though to be honest, this exercise is morefor my own sake in building ideas and adding detail to these ships, and ifother people happen to get something out of it, that’s only a bonus. (At somepoint I’ll be answering for Heartshipping too.)

And of course theseare only my interpretations/opinions.

There are two waysPride can be approached: either Seto makes visits to the Netherworld, or Atemthrough some means exists in the modern world. I’ll try to acknowledge thedifferences where appropriate in my answers.

I think Seto makingroutine trips to the Netherworld would be an alright choice for the couple.It’s intriguing how Seto is both so independent as a person and yet so co-dependenton Atem, but I think a long distance relationship would work out well for thetwo. Seto needs space but would understand he has someone who loves, desires,and supports him even as they’re physically apart. Likewise, I think Atem wouldbe satisfied in what they share. I characterize Atem as more calm and at peacepost-canon and I think he’s both loving and independent, and he’d cherish howdeeply Seto feels for him and how they’ve both followed each other from thestart.

What they watch during movie dates and what kind ofsnacks they get from concessions.

Again, I don’tthink Seto watches much television or movies. But for some reason, I imagineAtem might really dig documentaries. It’s not just about absorbing informationhe hasn’t yet learned of the modern world. Rather I think he may actually enjoythe act of learning itself, given it’s in an entertaining package. I think he’dlike watching other genres of film too, though more casually. It would takesome time for him to develop his own tastes with it, since he wouldn’t be astired with clichés and tropes as most people.

Seto might bringdownloaded media to Atem in the Netherworld, and they’d sit on the palacerooftop over a candled city and under the deep starry sky, leaning into eachother as a floating panel of light plays the movie. Seto might become bored andbegin making plans for his work, but he’s still sitting there and Atem is restingagainst him and their warmth pools together, and when the film is over Atemasks him to maybe bring some new movies for next time. “Maybe one with moreaction so you don’t get bored.” (Atem noticed.)

Which one gets in to a fightwith the other’s parents.

If we’re in themodern world, neither one has a living parent. In the Netherworld, there’s allkinds of possibilities to play with here.

If Atem’s fatherwas present in the Netherworld, I think Atem would be close to him. He soclearly carried affection for his father’s memory in the series’ final arc. ButSeto would keep his distance from Aknamkanon.Aside from Seto’s sharply asocial nature, I think he’d feel like he wasencroaching and he’d also feel out of place within that father/son bond.

I consider Atem andYugi to have a brotherly affection for each other, and based on the ending toDSoD, it seems Seto’s warmed a small bit to Yugi. (I’m a sucker for Rivalshipbromance regardless.) I imagine Mokuba would figure out his brother is gay andinvolved with Atem before Seto actually comes out to him, and Mokuba would besupportive.

There’s somethingvery complex going on between Mokuba and Seto and Atem in DSoD (it’s awhirlpool of love, hate, fear, and hope) and there aren’t immediate answershere and the water would need to smooth. Mokuba and Seto already had a complexrelationship; Atem and Seto already had a complex relationship. I can’t reallydistill it so simply. But I think they’d come to an understanding. I think apart of Seto might be ashamed, while Mokuba dearly wants his brother to findsome patch of happiness even if Mokuba carries a splotch of resentment. (Ithink the fandom takes it for granted that even in the anime it’s impliedMokuba and Seto have a strain on their relationship—that doesn’t change thefact they love each other deeply.) I think Mokuba might have mixed feelingstowards Atem initially, even if he keeps them to himself, but there’d be timeto heal and bond.

What kind of street performance they’d put on to raisemoney if they were stranded somewhere.

Aren’t they bothfamous? They’d sell autographs!

How they’d be as parents if theyhad-a-kid/someone-forced-a-kid-on-them.

I’ve made it clearI interpret Seto as being keenly uncomfortable at the prospect of fatherhood,due to his history, his Gozaburo-complex, and the issues in his mental health.I see Atem as a character going either way. If his lover doesn’t want children,he’d be happy with not having children. If his lover does want children, he’dbe happy with having children. He could see himself being a good father and hedoesn’t mind children, but children aren’t a goal for him. Having children issomething he’s open to but not actively interested in, is my take on the character.

I’ve brought up thesad circumstance before of how Seto’d be forced into fatherhood, but also howhe’d prove to be a far better father than he had feared. He’d be quiet, softer,a bit distant. He’d have times where he’d lose his temper and have to suddenlyleave the room to calm down, but he would care achingly for that child. He’drub the child’s head gently, help them with their homework, carry them to bedwhen they’ve fallen asleep in the car.

I think Atem wouldprove to be a damn solid parent actually, warm and encouraging yet firm. Thisis in the realm of the mortal world, but maybe he’d take the child out fishingor bring them to museums. Atem might prompt the child to make a drawing forPapa Seto or he’d build colorful Play-Doh sculptures with them. He’d emboldenthem to make friends and put themselves out there. And he’d also be the one totell them to be kind to others, to be fair and use judgement, and scold themwhen they’ve done wrong.

Atem plays theactive firm parent, and Seto the quiet soft parent, but the child is well lovedand the three form a cozy family together.

Who would cause the most trouble during a camping tripand how.

I would say thecouple isn’t exactly the type to go out camping but then I did just read theaskee’s fic, The Newly Revised Book of the Dead, wherein Atem and Seto spend a decentamount of the story essentially camping. They both strike me as practicalorganized people (maybe not in the emotions department, but in work andhobbies), so I think they’d be able to tackle camping just fine. Though Atemwould enjoy the adventure more than Seto would.

In reality, I thinkthe two would take walks along the river’s edge, watching the beads of lightbob and shimmer on the water and seeing the birds skim the air. They maybriefly hold hands a few times.

Atem might try toconvince Seto to go horseback riding. As a joke, he’d tell Seto the horse’sname is Gingersnap and insist, “You have to say her name if you want to gainher trust.” And Seto would ask, “Why is a horse in Ancient Egypt namedGingersnap?”

What they would give each other as both a serious giftand a troll gift.

Seto is so cluelessabout gifts, so he’d ask up front what Atem wants for his birthday orChristmas. Atem is a bit more brave with gift-giving, making guesses and givingthings purely for surprise. If in the modern world, he might give Setohardcover books or a framed photograph of the wild ocean or maybe a handsomewatch. And Atem might teasingly buy goofy Duel Monsters memorabilia for theirhome, like a Blue Eyes White Dragon bottle-opener or a stuffed Kuriboh. MaybeAtem leaves the stuffed Kuriboh in Seto’s home office for him to discover, andwhile initially Seto is indifferent, overtime the toy becomes somethingprecious to him and he keeps it nestled beside his pen set.

Who moves in with them as an unfortunate third wheelroommate.

In the Netherworld,Seto himself is kind of a third wheel to the palace, isn’t he? I feel like he’dact stiff with Set, Mahaad, Mana, all of them. It’d take a while to warm tothem at all.

If Atem and Setoare together in the modern world, Atem’s friends may spend the occasional nightin their home. Yugi and Anzu would be very polite guests, while Jonouchi andHonda would visit Atem but they’d tend not to stay the night.

How they feel about handholding and sudden kisses in theear-cheek vicinity.

I characterize bothAtem and Seto as private in tenderness and also not touchy-feely to begin with.PDA does not happen with them, and even in private they don’t cling to each other.But they’ll lean into each other when they read and they’ll cuddle in bedtogether, and it’s sweet and warm, and it’s enough to know what they mean toeach other.

Who’s always snapping photos and who’s pack-rattingclutter.

I don’t thinkeither is taking many photographs. Nor is Seto into collecting small materialgoods. I’ve already mentioned Atem buys silly Duel Monsters merchandise half asa joke, half because he honestly finds it charming. I feel like he might taketo collecting certain knickknacks too, items he finds fascinating or cool.

Who hogs the bathroom in the morning and who causestoothpaste related drama.

Seto and Atem areboth pampered rich kids, and neither of them cleans toilets. In theNetherworld… how do bathrooms work? Do they have magically running water? Orwill Seto be making a fuss about how barbaric and unhygienic it is, at leastfor the first few visits until he gets over it up?

Atem might be the typeto leave the bathroom door cracked when he uses it and this mildly annoys Seto,and Seto will shut the door if he passes it.

What their matching costumes were for that one party.

Seto is an assholewho refuses to dress in a costume. This one is kind of stumping me actually,because I don’t think Atem would really care much about dressing up as a pair.They can be the boring killjoys of the party together: that’s their matchingoutfit.

If I think they’d get married and why or why not.

The answer to thisquestion is very dependent on which version of Prideshipping we go with.

If Atem exists inthe modern world, I don’t think marriage is on either character’s mind. I don’tthink either one is particularly romantically-minded nor do they feel the needto announce their bond in paperwork. What the case might be is one day theyrealize they’re fifty-years-old and have been together for over thirty years,so why not? But the ceremony would be small and short and more just to have iton the record. If anything, it’d be their friends and family who are moreexcited by the news and the ceremony. Maybe Atem would go along with theexcitement and have some elegant decorations strung around the room and foodplatters set out for their sake.

On the other hand,I think the two would marry with more passion, more personal investment, ifSeto was making visits to Atem in the Netherworld. The two have times of beingseparated physically: they want something to signify they’re always together inheart—they want a symbol of it. There’s something possessive here too, likeleaving a mark on each other. The ceremony would be small and quiet, as Setoand Atem are both private people in their tenderness, but it’d be warm andmeaningful.

Who has over a thousand unread emails in their inbox orfive hundred icons on their computer desktop and how the other reacts to thisgross mismanagement.

Seto is a CEO of amammoth corporation, so I think it’s fair to wager he has a lot of crap on hiscomputer. Atem doesn’t care; Atem only even recognizes like three of thoseicons.

What their hidden artistic talents are and howappreciative the other is of these talents.

Again, I think Setosketches blueprints for things he doesn’t intend to build, maybe fantasticalthings that can’t be built, as a way of clearing his heart on harder days.Maybe Atem watches him sketch, and he’s watching in silence for a while, and thenhe comments softly, “You’re very good at drawing.”

Maybe one day Atemasks if Seto would try drawing this thing or that. Maybe Seto does draw it forhim.

I imagine Atem as amore athletic type, someone who likes swimming and horseback riding andfishing. I feel like he might try painting or drawing but not have much talentfor it. “You’re much better,” he’d tell Seto.

But Atem is good atswiftly solving problems and thinking on his feet, conjuring creative solutions.It’s a talent Seto has always admired in him.

What they consider each other’s most attractive qualityand/or their favourite thing about the other.

Atem is like a point of brilliant clarity for Seto, and yet he’salso a symbol of so many spiraling things: the past, hatred, failure, connection,death, passion, and most intensely–most brightly–he represents hope. Atemawoke Seto from his numbness, inspired Seto and gave him the tools he needed tosave himself from despair. Even now, Atem harbors a kind of radiantconfidence and calmness that braces Seto and grants him brightness.

For Atem, Seto validated his existence as his own being, notYugi but a whole other person, a deeply valued rival. What Atem admires in Setonow is his passion, how he refuses to give up the battle until he finds ananswer, how strongly his spirit fights. Seto chased Atem from the start and henever gave up.

#prideshipping #atem #seto kaiba #meta garbage #kinda

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bellarkefanworkawards-blog · 7 years

Photo

Best Slow Burn

ARKADIA FLORAL & GARDEN by wanheda_two_heda @youleftme-clarke

Clarke has owned Arkadia Floral & Garden Supplies for 3 years when Bellamy Blake, her high school rival, comes back into town following his mother’s death and needs Clarke’s help to restore his mother’s garden to its former glory. But gardening isn’t Bellamy’s strong suite, and neither is coping with losing another parent. He might need a lot more help than he’s willing to admit, but luckily for him, his feisty blonde former rival is there to guide him through some of the most difficult months of his life.

ALL MY FRIENDS ARE HEATHENS by DracoTerrae

Chancellor Jaha put together a team of criminal delinquents, each with his or her own special Ability, in order to learn if his people stand a chance on the earth on which their ancestors once lived, a land that is filled with hostility—both from the environment and the people who inhabit it. Canon inspired with a twist. X-men, Suicide Squad, The 100 mix. Eventual relationships.

DON’T LOOK BACK, YOU’RE NOT GOING THAT WAY by andsowemeetagain

Viking Bellamy prepares for the journey of a lifetime. Clarke Griffin is the new, mysterious girl that wants to join him.

Best Fake Relationship

THINGS WE SHOULDN’T DO by Willaphyx @rebelprincebell

“The history between the two of you is well known,” Marcus went on, talking over Clarke’s continued splutters. “And it hasn’t escaped the notice of certain news organizations–” “What, you mean fucking TMZ?” Clarke interjected.Marcus sighed. “It would be in the best interest of the show and I think both your careers if you were to be seen as a couple. ”Silence.“A dating couple,” Marcus added as if that hadn’t been clear. Bellamy and Clarke exploded simultaneously.“If we what?” Clarke demanded at the same time that Bellamy just started laughing. He slipped sideways, dangerously close to falling out of his chair. Clarke is at the bottom of a downward spiral and Bellamy is riding an all-time career high when they’re cast as the leads of Marcus Kane’s newest drama. The entertainment world expects a blowup of immense proportions between the two feuding actors but get a hard to explain romance instead. Or: a fake dating celebrities AU.

I GOT MY SWIM TRUNKS, AND MY FLIPPIE-FLOPPIES by Kacka @katchyalater

Going on a cruise with her friends seems like the perfect last hurrah before Clarke moves across the country, and it seems even better when she finds out that her ex-nemesis, now-sort-of-friend is on the same cruise. And not just because he’s game to help her mess with her mother.

I DREAMED YOU A SIN by monroeslittle

“If I do this,” Blake said, “how are you imagining it’s going to work? I can’t just knock on his door, and say I want in again. It’s been eleven years. And even before I left, I never cared about the business. Do you have a plan? You say you want me to open the door for an agent. How? What’s that mean?” “You’re going to get in touch with your grandfather again at your wedding,” Clarke said. He stared. “I hope you don’t have a girlfriend, Mr. Blake.”

fake!married AU. Clarke’s in the FBI, Bellamy’s the grandson of a mobster, and they’ve got to work together.

Best Pining!Clarke

TREADING ON WATER, CAUSE I NEVER LEARNED TO SWIM by andsowemeetagain

"Shit" he said, "I think I'm in love with her." Clarke choked on the beer she'd just taken a sip of. "What?" In the five years since she's known him, she has never heard Bellamy Blake use the word 'love' when referring to someone other than his sister.

Or the one where Clarke and Bellamy are best friends and everything is right in the world until Bellamy falls in love with someone that isn't Clarke.

I (LOVE)D YOU by funfanfin

A relationship that only lasted five months and ended four years ago shouldn’t still be affecting her, but…it wasn’t just any relationship. It wasn’t just any breakup. It wasn’t just any ex. It was Bellamy.

AND THEN WE WERE CHASING COMETS by prosciutto @prosciuttoe

That same, elusive shrug. “It’s a secret, princess.” He says pointedly, snagging the book from her before throwing the truck into park, “But you’ll be the first to read it once it’s done, okay?” “Wow,” she says, nodding. “I’m honored.” A beat as he sizes her up, his brows furrowing together in exasperation before he says, weary, “You’re going to ask me what it’s about again, aren’t you?” “Bellamy,” she says obediently, grinning, “what’s your book about?” If you told Clarke Griffin that she would become best friends with the resident black sheep of Arkadia, she would have difficulty believing it, let alone the fact that he apparently wrote an entire book about her.

Or: Clarke and Bellamy through the years, as childhood best friends.

Best Royalty AU

KINGDOM COME by the.ktgrace

Her father, the king, was poisoned. She, heir to the throne, fled into hiding. Ten years later, a royal guard needs to bring her back to the throne to save his sister. Faraway kingdoms, arranged marriages, deception, brewing war… And that's only the beginning for this stubborn princess and her arrogant guard. A story of fantasy and adventure in the kingdom of Ark.

THE CHOICE by BeneathaMoonlessNight

Medieval Bellarke AU. When Lady Clarke Griffin begins her journey to the City, she couldn't imagine the choices that she'll have to make. A journey filled with excitement, danger, war, a Rebel King and the most difficult question of all- How does one choose between Duty and Love? This has slowly and unintentionally become a Game of Thrones AU

HOW TO SAVE A KINGDOM by Laughingsenselessly @wellsjahasghost

Clarke sputters an indignant laugh as he takes her elbow and steers her away from the doors. “You won’t let me out of the palace and you’re calling me a difficult person? You,” she fumes, “are insufferable.” Bellamy merely grins. “Now that’s no way to talk to your husband.” Clarke forces herself to stalk away before she can give into the urge to throw her glass of wine at him. She doesn’t know why she bothers, though. Somehow, none of their guests seem to notice the clear antagonism between the king and queen, or maybe they just don’t care. And why should they? The two of them are just husband and wife. They’re not actually expected to like each other.

AU. Clarke marries Bellamy for a political alliance.

Best Teacher!Bellamy

MUST BE LOVE (ON THE BRAIN) by Caramelle @mellamymake

Is she grateful for the distraction that is Finn Collins? Sort of. Does that make her want to punch his teeth in any less? Hard no. Or, the one where Clarke Griffin wishes the annoying boy who always sits next to her in class would shut up and let her listen to her professor. Her professor also happens to be really pretty. The two things are mutually exclusive.

AFRAID TO CALL THIS PLACE OUR OWN by HawthorneWhisperer @hawthornewhisperer

Clarke frowned at the notification on her ipad. “Why does your history teacher want to meet with me?” she asked, but Madi kept her eyes innocently on her homework. A little too innocently. “Mr. Blake’s a hardass,” Madi said with a shrug. “A hardass who wants a meeting with me barely a month into the school year?” Clarke asked. Madi shrugged again and Clarke narrowed her eyes and scanned the email. “He’s worried about your performance already. Have you even had any tests? What am I missing?” “He just doesn’t like me,” Madi replied and erased something on her worksheet.

YOUR TOUCH HAS GOT ME HAUNTED by troubledpancakes

Clarke’s twenty-first birthday was bound to be something she’d never be able to forget after Raven surprised her with a night at a strip club, with the highlight being a private lap dance by one of the most talented, and lusted after performers, Bell-Oh-My. However, seven years later, with a daughter just entering kindergarten, Clarke realized that night would be harder to forget than she originally thought when she introduced herself to her daughter’s handsome (and all-too-familiar) new teacher.

Best Roommates AU

CAN WE DO MORE THAN ORBIT? by fawna

If Bellamy knows one thing about the internet it’s that Clarke’s good at it. Bellamy? Not so much.

Or: where Bellamy finds Clarke's tumblr

KILL THEM WITH KINDNESS by Kacka @katchyalater

Clarke thought subletting Miller's room for the summer would be a perfect solution: convenient, affordable, and it comes furnished. Unfortunately, it also comes with his roommate, who for some reason, hates her.

I DON'T KNOW HOW TO LOVE PEOPLE WITHOUT THEM DYING by Kacka @katchyalater

“This is where it falls apart,” Clarke whispers. Her finger traces random patterns across Bellamy’s chest, his gently untangling the knots in her hair. The sun hasn’t yet risen but the sky outside has begun to lighten, those nebulous hours when night fades to morning and the world starts to think about waking up. Clarke greets them like an old friend. Most nights she wakes with a jolt-- sometimes from nightmare, other times from the stress of an unimaginably long to-do list-- and lets the slow ascent into day calm her racing mind.

Best Social Media AU

OR, YOU COULD ALWAYS GOOGLE IT by Prosciutto @prosciuttoe

“You know,” Bellamy muses, grin wide and a little conspiratorial, “you’re robbing our legions of fans here. They’re expecting a showdown and you’re being perfectly cordial towards me.” “Right,” she nods, pursing her lips to keep from smiling. “Well, it’s not too late. I could always pitch that glass of water down your shirt.” Someone really should have warned Clarke that the first step to becoming internet famous would involve acquiring a nemesis.

(Or, Bellarke as rival YouTubers, basically.)

YOU'RE COOL ON THE INTERNET, AT LEAST by Prosciutto @prosciuttoe

Look, Clarke will not dwell on this. She will not get flustered just because a possibly cute guy on Facebook apparently shares her views on what constitutes a terrible person. Ten minutes later, her phone gives a short, irritated buzz; startling her enough that she jumps. Biting at the inside of her cheek, she allows herself a quick peek. Friend request from Bellamy Blake. Clarke has no idea how she manages to develop a crush on a guy who won’t stop fighting everyone on Facebook, but here they are.

(Or: Clarke meets Bellamy on Facebook. They hit it off.)

I THINK YOU'RE CUTE by caramelle @mellamymake

On second thought, Bellamy should probably have thought to check in with his sister before becoming Instagram buddies with her new roommate. In his defence, he hadn't been entirely sure what 'Follow' actually meant. He'd genuinely thought it was just like some kind of vague, subscription type thing, like when you hit 'Accept' on one of Groupon's numerous attempts to send you updates on the latest offers. It's only when Clarke Griffin actually follows him back that he realises the gravity of what he's done.

Or, the one where Bellamy and Clarke meet on Instagram.

Best Enemies/Friends to Lovers

ALL MY FRIENDS ARE HEATHENS by DracoTerrae @dracoterrae9099

EMERGENCY CONTACTS by wanheda_two_heda @youleftme-clarke

When Bellamy gets a call from Ark Memorial Hospital because he's the emergency contact for an unnamed girl in her early twenties, his only thought is Octavia. He can't imagine that someone might have just entered his phone number by mistake. But when he sees the blonde girl lying unconscious in a hospital bed with no other contacts until she wakes up, something tells him to stay. So he does.

Based on the prompt: au where person a accidentally puts the wrong number as their emergency contact and when they end up in hospital person b gets called (and comes anyway, despite not knowing person a)

IN MY DREAMS WE ARE ALWAYS TOGETHER by andsowemeetagain

100 delinquents got sent to Earth and battled for survival against the odds. They landed in Trikru territory but that is not where they stayed. After weeks of battle and war, the Sky People finally lost. They were sent to a land far away, where a group of Grounders unlike any they've met waited for them.

*This is a terrible summary...I don't know how to describe this story. It's a mix of canon and AU. But if you like arranged marriage and enemies->friends->lovers and friendship and love and fluff and angst, then this is the fic for you.

Best Past Relationship

I (LOVE)D YOU by funfanfin

KNOWING ME, KNOWING YOU by caramelle @mellamymake

In hindsight, staying in the apartment he shares with his ex probably isn't the best idea Bellamy's ever had. Probably not his worst either, to be fair.

Or, the one where Bellamy and Clarke break up and, instead of moving out, somehow find themselves in a heated prank war.

I FEEL IT IN MY FINGERS by lightyears

It’s a short wait for the patient to arrive once Clarke gets herself organised. She stands out at the emergency entrance for all of three minutes before the ambulance comes to a stop in front of her, Jasper jumping out of the driver’s seat and rounding to the back to open the rear door. Clarke’s right behind him, watching as the patient is pulled out on a gurney, and getting ready to take action, just like she’s done countless times over the years. But instead of grabbing ahold of the stretcher railing to help wheel the patient inside, asking Monty what happened, what his initial evaluations found, she falters in her step, feels the air get knocked from her all at once. Because she recognises that boy, warm brown skin sprinkled with freckles, unruly inky curls and a jawline so sharp it could cut glass. She recognises him despite the ten years that have passed and the bruises and cuts scattered across the skin free from his clothes. She recognises him and it makes her world stop. “Bellamy,” Clarke breathes out.

#bfwa #bellarke fanwork awards #bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellarke fam #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #The 100 #the 100 fanfiction #bffa #bffa 17 #bffa 2.0

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kiribaku-queen · 3 years

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The Blood King and his Queen [8]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.3K

A/N: I've introduced two new characters this chapter! Kazuhiko and Katashi, the first born and second born respectively, brothers of Bakugou. If reader thought Bakugou was intimidating at first glace, best believe that these two are even scarier than him.

Also, I've tried tagging some of you but it seems that I am unable to do that. Please make sure that your Tumblr is visible when typing it in the search bar. I think that's the only way I'm able to tag you :) Please enjoy and see you next Monday!

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You were woken up by the golden sun rays hitting your resting eyes. Squinting your eyes to open them up a bit, you saw that you forgot to close the tent completely, allowing the sun to fully brighten up the place. You sighed. You didn’t want to get up just yet. Maybe a few more minutes. You tried to move to get a bit of a stretch before going back to sleep, but quickly realized a powerful arm around your waist prevented you from moving. When your eyes looked up, Bakugou’s face was only inches from yours. Even though it was so early in the morning, that didn’t stop a rush of heat from appearing across your cheeks. And despite his face being so close to yours, you didn’t look away.

This was probably the first time you actually took a good look at his features. He looks so peaceful when he’s asleep, despite the fact that his eyebrows were still angry. His mouth was slightly ajar and you could hear him softly breathing. His skin may look rough upon first look, but when you touched his cheek, was much softer than you thought. You wanted to keep admiring his handsome face. It wasn’t everyday that you could stare and not get caught. Taking advantage of this chance, you snuggled right up to him, sighing in satisfaction.

You heard a deep chuckle and suddenly, your body was even more flushed against Bakugou’s body. He had rested his chin on top of yours and wrapped his arms around you tightly.

“Good morning,” his deep, husky, morning voice startled you.

“You were awake?” you asked, embarrassed.

“The whole time,” he chuckled.

“Why didn’t you say something?” you whined, lightly hitting his chest, making Bakugou laugh even more.

“I thought it was cute,” he admitted.

“Was not. It was creepy!” you disagreed.

“Everything you do is cute, my princess,” he declared. You looked up at him, shocked.

“What did you say?” you asked. He looks down at you with the softest expression and repeats,

“My princess,” he softly says. Your heart wants to leap out of your chest. The way he’s looking at you, the way he’s claiming you as his, and the fact that his lips was only a breath away was making you fall harder. As if that was even possible at this point.

Bakugou stops smiling and suddenly becomes serious. You see his eyes move from yours, down to your lips. As if on cue, yours do the same. Bakugou’s lips were getting closer to yours as your heart does summersaults across your chest. Right as you were about to share your first kiss, the tent entrance opens wide, the sun rays now emitting more light than what you wanted. Standing there, a dorky, smiling Denki Kaminari.

“Gooood MORNING!” he sings with the widest smile on his face. “Oh…” his smile slowly dissipates when he sees Bakugou’s killer glare and your hiding face. From behind, Sero and Kirishima both grab Denki by the face and drag him away.

“You idiot!” Sero scolded.

“We told you to see if they were awake! NOT barge in on them!” Kirishima continued.

“I’m sorry!” he cried. They continued to argue until their voices faded in the distance. Bakugou grumbled, smacking his forehead in annoyance.

“Fuckin dumbass,” he muttered under his breath. He looks to you apologetically, but you couldn’t help but giggle at his friend’s antics.

“What an interesting group of friends you have,” you stated.

“They’re one of a kind, that’s for sure,” he complained even though he was bidding them a compliment. He happened to look back at you the same time you met his eyes. Without hesitation, he leans again but you were quick to turn your head and clear your throat.

“We should uh- probably get ready,” you suggested.

“Right,” he whispers and you quickly get up, exiting the tent to leave the prince behind.

After a quick breakfast that Sero had whipped up for everyone, it was time to head back on the road. But this time, you were enroute back to the palace. The ride back to the palace was more relaxing than before. You were fully calm and comfortable in Bakugou’s arms, despite last night and this morning’s events.

Thinking back to when this trip first started, you were so uptight and tense sharing a horse with the mighty Blood Prince. You couldn’t even breath properly with him being so close to you. Now, you were fully able to relax into Bakugou’s arms. You allowed your back to touch his chest, since you were no longer afraid of the Blood Prince. Bakugou had leaned forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. You two were too digested into your own conversation to see the fond looks his crew was giving them.

He was pointing to different landmarks and areas, able to give you stories about anything and everything. Some were sad, some were adventurous, some were silly, some were dangerous. You were able to laugh with him and his men, not believing that this was the man that everyone feared.

Halfway on the trip, you started getting sleepy, yawning your butt off every few minutes. Bakugou took notice, leaning closer to you.

“Sleepy?” he asks. You only nodded your head, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes. “You can take a nap.” He offered.

“Is that really alright?” you made sure. He nodded in approval. So you didn’t hesitate to turn your body to the side, snuggling into his body. The moment your head rested against his chest, you were out like a light. Bakugou softly smiled at the sight. Mina and Sero silently fangirled to the side, but thanks to Bakugou’s sharp hearing, he heard them. He glared in their direction causing both of the soldiers to turn their heads and whistle like it was no one’s business. Bakugou then pointed to everyone else, making sure they weren’t loud enough to wake you up. His finger stopped at the electric blonde, extra cautious of his loud ass. Denki locked his lips and threw the key away. Far away. He wasn’t ready to get beat up again.

You fell asleep most of the way back, but his highness didn’t mind. When you awoke, you found yourself back in the palace estate. You stretched your arms out with a big yawn.

“You looked like you got a good rest,” Bakugou joked.

“I did,” you said as a matter of fact, smiling up at him.

The horses pulled up to the front of the palace and other soldiers and maids alike were helping to unpack your belongings. Bakugou had helped you down from your horse and took your hand to head inside. You offered to help bring something in, but Bakugou insisted that you go see someone.

When the doors opened, you were greeted by two masculine figures whose auras emitted such a strong presence, dare you even say malevolent. Kazuhiko and Katashi, the older brothers of the Blood Prince, were there in the flesh. They were much older looking than Bakugou, with even more scars on their bodies. Their build was impressive but the enraged and annoyed expression was prevalent on their faces. Honestly, Bakugou couldn’t compete when it came to how scary and afraid you were on these men.

“Little brother,” Katashi, the second born, greeted mockingly. But that didn’t faze Bakugou one it.

“Where’s father?” Bakugou ignored them. Your eyes widened. Father? As in, the King? Bakugou wanted to take you to meet the King?

“Where he always is. Any reason why you’re asking?” Katashi interrogated.

“I have matters to discuss with him,” Bakugou simply told them. Kazuhiko, the first born, leaned to the side and raised his eyebrows when he saw your cowering body behind Bakugou.

“Ah, what do we have here?” Kazuhiko got closer to you and circled around you to get a good look. “I see you brought something for us to snack on.” He licked his lips repulsively. You shrunk behind Bakugou, holding his arm for dear life. Luckily for you, Bakugou moved to make sure that he was in between you and his brother.

“Be careful with what you say. We wouldn’t want to puncture another eye, would we?” Bakugou threatened. Kazuhiko backed up, covering up his right eye that contained a long scar running in the middle, most likely caused by Bakugou.

“I wouldn’t want to be talking to your future queen like that,” Bakugou pointed out. Both brothers looked at you with slanted eyes as if they couldn’t believe someone like you could be queen.

“Forgive us, princess. We misspoke,” Kazuhiko was quick to bow, but his attitude was more forced.

“Tell us, from which kingdom do you come from?” he asks.

“The Northern Kingdom,” you respond, rather nervously. Katashi raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“The Northern Kingdom? I thought the King only bore one daughter,” The second oldest questioned. Your heart started to pound and cold sweat was running down your back. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what to do. Were you going to be caught just like this?

“Enough. Tell Father that we are to hold a ball to celebrate our engagement. In a week’s time. No later,” Bakugou spoke up before you could respond. You could let out a big sigh of relief but you’d do that later.

“Go get some rest. I’ll see you later?” Bakugou spoke softly to you. The way he spoke to you compared to his brothers was night and day. You nodded in agreement and Bakugou smiled. His brothers were watching your interaction closely, frowning in dissatisfaction.

“Princess?” Kirishima came from behind you, ushering you to your room. You let Kirishima lead the way, but not before looking back at Bakugou who was talking to his brothers.

“Worried about his highness?” Kirishima asked.

“N-No! I was just…” you tried to make an excuse but failed to come up with one.

“He’ll be fine. There’s a reason Bakugou is in line for the throne and not his brothers,” Kirishima explained. “Despite being the youngest, he is stronger, more powerful, and more ruthless than his brothers. He earned his title as next in line.” Even still, you couldn’t help but worry when you’re not by his side. And Kirishima could see that.

“Now, now. Let’s freshen up for his highness later,” Kirishima took you shoulders and forced you to keep walking, to distract you from the problem.

Bakugou was about to walk away but Kazuhiko stopped him by grabbing his shoulder.

“Oi, you aren’t serious, are you?” Kazuhiko questioned.

“What are you going on about this time?” Bakugou huffed in annoyance.

“You. Have feelings? For that princess?” Katashi doubted like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Is that so hard to believe?” Bakugou raised a brow.

“Yes! It is! Come on, do you really think it’s going to work out with her? Do you think we love our wives? No! We are using them, just like you’re about to do. Don’t steer away from the prize,” Katashi tried to manipulate Bakugou, but he wasn’t having it. He swatted him away like an annoying fly buzzing around his head.

“Go back to your own kingdoms and take your shitty ideals with you.” Bakugou dismissed them and walked away, now in a bad mood. Katashi was about to run after him, as he has a shorter fuse than the Blood Prince, but Kazuhiko stopped him.

“Don’t. He’ll come around. There’s no escaping it,” Kazuhiko was convinced and watched as the angry Pomeranian retreated back to his quarters.

Back at the Northern Kingdom, the real princess grumbles as she maneuvers around in her maid outfit, trying not to get caught by anyone. After putting you on that mission, she has been stuck serving as a maid all this time. Day after day after day, she was waiting for the moment you come back and announce that this silly arranged marriage was off, but you had yet to show up. And what’s worse, the brother of the Blood Prince is now requesting to see her. So here she was, waiting outside for this prince to show up.

“Nice of you to show up,” the princess complained when Katashi appeared from the shadows. He chuckles upon seeing what the princess was wearing.

“What are you wearing?” he laughs but the princess wasn’t having it.

“Oh, shut it. What is it you want to say?” the princess snapped, wanting to get straight to the point. Katashi clears his throat, suddenly getting serious.

“You don’t happen to have a sister, do you?” he asks. The princess just rolls her eyes and crosses her arms across her chest.

“Of course, I don’t. You’ve known me how long? You would’ve known if I had a sister. You probably would have slept with her by now,” the princess mumbles. She wasn’t wrong there. But now everything clicks in Katashi’s head.

“Ah, so the princess back with the Blood Prince is an imposter?” Katashi asks in a high pitched tone.

“Not really. I asked her to make the prince hate her so that he could call off the wedding and I wouldn’t have to marry him. When that happens, I’ll be back to my gorgeous dress,” the princess told of her masterplan.

“I don’t think you’ll be having that any time soon. You see, this maid you sent on a mission, is living happily with the prince as we speak. And will be celebrating their engagement within this week,” Katashi said. It took a minute to process what he was saying. The more she understood, the more her blood started to boil.

“What?”

“Oh yes. They traveled the kingdom together and supposedly are very in love with each other,” Katashi spit his poison, whispering these tales like a snake wrapped around her neck.

“That explains why she hasn’t come back yet,” the princess hissed.

“Lucky for you, I am willing to take you as my date to their little party,” Katashi gave a devilish smile. He offered his hand to the princess. “Let us crash this party?”

“Let’s.” the princess agreed, taking his hand, their evil plan now in motion.

A/N: DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA! We live for it!

We are almost done with the first half of the story so... enjoy and be happy while it lasts :)

I'd love to know your thoughts and maybe predictions or wants for the story???? ooh that'll be fun! I love reading every one of your comments and DM's and asks. Don't be afraid to send me something! I'M NICE I PROMISE! Love you all!!! <3 If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

Tagged: @superblyspeedydragon @melasnchz-things @animexholic @bkgwrites @sam-i-am-1025 @apexqueenie @katsukibabe @germfart3 @tspice283 @angie-1306 @bakugous-trauma @bakugousmrs @random-fandom-girl-24 @monetfatalia @triviajeongin @readingslumpfanfic @softredrobin @daddy-daichis @stardream14 @spicysherlock @cathwritestragediesnotsins @luvtaromilktea @aaannabbanana @i-ameri-cant @shyonigirichan @aomi04

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst #bakugou romance #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha imagine #bakugou imagine #bnha art #bakugou drama #bakugou #bnha bakugou

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chibinekochan · 7 years

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Cinderella on the Moon Mystic Messenger fairytale part 12

cover art part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11

rating : teen

Genre: fairytale fluff , fantasy and drama

Synopsis : A version with the RFA as characters from a fairy tale world. She goes threw some hard times and adventures. She sets out for a adventure that turns into something she never Imaged Eventually she will fall in love with someone but will that love last ?

note : I will try to keep posting at least one part per week. I know I got slow with these but I really enjoy writing this.

Cinderella slept the rest of the night rather uncomfortable , she kept on waking up at the smallest noise. She was anxious till the morning came. Cinderella got only half the sleep she wanted to and so she did not notice how some people where eyeing her. She was eating her breakfast when Zen came up to her. He looked really consent : “Hey Cinderella are you alright ?” Cinderella thought she must look really tired. “ Yeah I just could not get much sleep...” Cinderella sighed slightly at the memory from last night. “I heard about it are you alright ?” Zen sounded like he had something on his mind but he was not spelling it out. “Does everybody know about that already ?” Cinderella thought that Saeyoung made a huge commotion but somehow she had hoped that no many people knew about it. “I only heard about it from other people … You really need to be more careful Cinderella.” Zen was about to say something else but then he sighed. “Their was not much I could had done.” Cinderella had done her best to help Saeyoung she still was asking herself why he not just came during the day. “I know the guy is to blame but still it was not right...” Zens thoughts where trailing off. “Yeah I know he really should just asked me in the first place ….” Cinderella was a bit sad that Saeyoung not just asked for her help. After he just told her that she was part of his family to him she thought he would trust her. “He not asked you to come in ?” Zen sounded a bit angry about that. “No he just came in. I just hope he not gets in more issues...” Cinderella was sighing and she was afraid that Saeyoung could get in any more issues.

“I told you that I will behave didn´t I ?” Saeyoung was suddenly behind Cinderella and he was trying his best to look innocent. “You never said that... but I really hope something like last night does not happen again.” Cinderella looked at Saeyoung with a stern expression. “No reason to worry Cinderella I wont cause any issues to you.” Saeyoung felt bad enough that he caused her issues and he had to make sure to not make it worth for her. “ So you where the one that got in her room in the middle of the night ?” Zen was surprised but then again Saeyoung looked like he was the type of guy to do something like that.

“I was not planning on that. I just was ..um ...lost yeah … lost in the castle it´s just so big. Somehow I accidentally ended up in her room.” Saeyoung was looking for excuses but his story was really not convincing anyone. “You got lost hm. I really hope you not bring Cinderella here in any more issues she is a really innocent girl after all. You have no idea what the people say after what happened. “ Zen had a very angry look on his face. “Yeah I am very sorry that I woke my dear sister up like that. She was kind enough to make sure that I not get in trouble for getting lost and she made sure that I got rest in the Library.” Saeyoung was speaking louder then he had to. The people around them where starting to look at him. “So that is all that happened ?” Zen sounded relived but he not really trusted Saeyoung. He was looking at Cinderella who had no idea what the people around her where thinking.

“Of course it is as you said Cinderella is a very innocent girl.” Saeyoung was looking a bit sheepish again. Cinderella felt really uncomfortable. “We really should get to work the ball is really soon.” She tried to change the subject to something else and it worked. “ You are right its just a week till then we really need to finish the last few tasks.” Zen was agreeing but he still looked at Saeyoung with a less then happy expression. “Yeah I will go and see what Jaehee has left for me to do.” Cinderella was nodding she felt all fired up again. “We also need to find something for you to do.” Cinderella looked at Saeyoung. “I already have found something that will be perfect for me to do.” Saeyoung was smiling in a really suspicious way. “And that is what Saeyoung ?” Cinderella was scared to ask him.

“Their is a firework planned at midnight of the final night and I got the perfect plan for it.” Saeyoung was beaming with excitement. “I see that sounds like its up your ally. But you wont blow anything up will you ?” Cinderella was sure that he had something planned but she had no idea what. “Probably not...” Saeyoung avoided Cinderellas gaze. “You better not cause her any more issues.” Zen looked with a stern expression to Saeyoung. Cinderella was a bit confused that Zen was concerned about her but it felt nice. “You don´have to worry about that at all she means a lot to me too.” Saeyoung looked serious again and Zen looked like he was believing him.

“Saeyoung is a bit reckless but he has a kind heart.” Cinderella was agreeing to him. “It is nice of you to think that.” Saeyoung looked sad for a moment before his expression changed back to his normal self. “Good morning Cinderella and Zen I was actual looking for you.” Jaehee entered the room and she had a good chuck of papers in her hands. “Good morning Jaehee I will be right their.” Zen was polite as always to her. “Thank you and Cinderella I would like you to find someone to get some goods from the Wizards tower.” Jaehee was getting a piece of paper from her pile and handed it over to Cinderella. Cinderella looked at the long list of items. “What do we need these for ?” Half of these items Cinderella never heard about before and the others where mystical plants. “I don´t know either but the prince requested for these specifically.” Jaehee was sighing again. “Interesting list I actually know someone that would be perfect for this job.” Saeyoung looked over Cinderellas shoulder to read it. “You talk about Vanderwood right ?” Cinderella could not think about anyone else who would go to that scary place. “Yes , sadly there is a issue due to some misunderstanding he got thrown into Jail.” Saeyoung was obviously guilty for that. “What happened Saeyoung ?” Cinderella thought that it might had something to do with what happened last night. “Well we got separated last night while looking.... I mean walking around and somehow ended up in the palace but we got caught.” Saeyoung again was clearly fabricating a story.

“I know the one he is talking about and he saved me so I´m sure that he is not a bad person.” Cinderella could not believe that Saeyoung did not say anything about this last night. “I see I am sure the prince will agree to this: I just hope your judgment is right.” Jaehee was sighing a bit but she knew that the prince would agree to anything when it came to the ball. “Vanderwood knows the woods like his own backyard, well actual there are kind of his backyard so I know he will be fast back.” Saeyoung was really confident in Vanderwoods skills. “I hope so. I will go and talk to the prince about it. Could you take care of this list then Cinderella ?” Jaehee was handing Cinderella a list and she nodded at Jaehee. “I will take care of that with the prince after all its been my fault.” Saeyoung said and he took the paper from Cinderella. “That is for for me too. In that case we should go and finish the rehearsals for the music Zen.”Jaehee looked at Zen who had been oddly quiet this whole time. “Of course we should get this done.” Zen was really serious when ever it came to his music. “ Good luck with that Zen.” Cinderella smiled at him. “Thank you very much good luck to you too.” Zen was smiling widely at her and Jaehee looked at bit annoyed to Cinderella.

#mystic messenger #mysme #Cinderella on the moon #cinderella #mm fanfiction #fanfic #fairy tale #au #zen #saeyoung #jaehee

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xchaosincarnate-blog · 7 years

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Unexpected Temptation (CH 1)

Some say the world will end in fire, some say it will end in ice. According to Norse mythology, it is Loki who will bring about its demise; known as Ragnarok. In Greek mythology, it is assumed the Titans were responsible for the complete destruction of all realms, and all life within each. The reality is who really knows, who or what will be the cause and when it will happen. Unless there is solid evidence others should not place blame or assume. It is an insult to the divine, but then again no one cares about the Titans, for they have caused much havoc for all pantheons. Anyhow, enough about all that dreadful stuff let's get to the actual story instead of dull possible historical events, shall we?

Two siblings had grown exhausted, tired of all the drama in both of their home realms. Having been raised on Olympus and Asgard may have had its advantages occasionally, but there was one major problem. If it wasn't their parents bickering like insolent children, then it was other family members or just other deities in general. They were always fighting about or over something, no matter how small or how large. After centuries of being forced to tolerate such pathetic behavior, the two mixed pantheon children had decided to leave both realms behind in search for another. It was tragic, yet embarrassing that their own kind all acted so foolish. The goal was to find a more tranquil, and serene realm to settle in. The only issue that the two had run into, was that no one respected mixed pantheon offspring, let alone the two children who had been conceived during a night of drunken stupidity between Loki, Norse Trickster God Of Illusions, Mischief, and Chaos and Athena, Greek Goddess of Warfare and Wisdom. After a year of traveling, the two found the 'perfect' place... Alfheimr.

Little did they know at the time, was that the kind-hearted princess who had welcomed them with open arms had plans of her own and that they involved their father. So much for hoping for any semblance of true peace and quiet. Now, the two were going to get dragged into some other nonsense. Their father had been branded a traitor, and everyone assumed he had died to save Thor and his mortal..leaving the Aesir very perplexed... but being his children they knew he was alive and well. They also knew the truth of what really happened that day, and let's just say it's not what everyone thinks. Apparently, so did another due to being a powerful sorceress who was almost as cunning and intelligent as Loki himself. Only time will tell how this all unfolds, and what will happen in the near future. Everything will be complicated that much is certain.

Saphira tilted her head to the side keeping her emotions guarded, a masked facade as her emerald golden flecked gaze peered at the two cross pantheon siblings with interest as they spoke of their request to dwell amongst the citizens of her home realm. Alfheimr had been at peace with no conflicts pending for quite some time, and allowing the prodigy of Loki to remain could cause some complications she had her own reasons for doing what she did next. The decision did not come without some intense scheming on her end though. Her lips curled upward into a false warming smile as she stood inclining her head respectfully as per custom when greeting others of a royal stature.

Her father was off taking care of political matters, and would not return for a long while leaving her to rule in his stead. Sometimes that man was far too trusting, despite knowing how rebellious his daughter could be. Internally she laughed at the very thought. Saphira was cunning and often did as she pleased regardless of the consequences. Ideally, she dealt with whatever happened when it mattered or when she felt like doing so. Being the daughter of a king had its perks. The citizens adored and respected her thankfully, which made everything that much easier to get away with. She would never allow any harm to come to Alfheim, no matter her choices, however. She loved her home realm and its people.

Speaking smoothly and in a light tone. " It is a pleasure to meet you Prince Aeolos and Princess Celeste. Welcome to Alfheim, please stay as long as you would like. " She paused for a moment to glance at the guard who had just entered the room before returning her focus back upon the two younger deities, " Just keep in mind that no harm or betrayal will be tolerated. " Aeolos looked over at his sister briefly who looked just as re-leaved as he felt. It had been a long journey for them both. Some relaxation would do them some good. The siblings returned the elegant bow of the Ljósálfar princess, currently the acting queen. " Thank you kindly Princess Saphira, " they said in unison.

Saphira nodded lightly before making her way towards the guard. The expression on the man's face was one of confusion and perhaps conflict. " Your majesty, we may have a problem... it has come to the attention of the council that Asgard's heir Prince Thor has abandoned his role to assist Midgard and that Odin stepped down pardoning the exiled Prince Loki of all crimes for saving Thor's life during a recent war and helping to prevent the destruction of Asgard in killing Kurse. Apparently, he almost perished himself but was discovered and healed. The All Father has officially declared him fit to rule the Realm Eternal, " the man declared in a tone that suggested he did not find this news pleasant in the least.

Saphira on the other hand was ecstatic by this new turn of events, however, she kept her facade a blank canvas aside from the brief flicker of keen interest in her gaze. " I see... perhaps I shall go investigate these matters. Thank you for the information, you are dismissed." Her tone suggested that it would be wise to leave the matter be, and not attempt to comment on her decision. The guard was stunned at how his princess reacted, not seeming to be concerned in the least. Aeolos inched towards his sister not saying a word about what the two of them had just witnessed. However, that flicker in Saphira's eyes had not gone unnoticed by either sibling. It was a very familiar look. This woman, this goddess reminded them way too much of their father.. almost like two twin souls. If they allied together it could potentially cause complete chaos if anyone angered or betrayed them. They had already witnessed what could happen if their father was angry and betrayed, but what about Saphira? What a frightening thought, they both thought while remaining silent.

Aeolos and Celeste had always been much closer to Loki than they had been with Athena therefore, they understood things better than most. Loki was a very complex being, and so were the two of them. Now, it appeared as though there was someone else very similar. How peculiar, and interesting. Aeolos was more like Loki than Celeste, who was more like Athena as far as personality traits go. Despite, being non-identical twins they still had their differences.

" I would like for the two of you to join me tomorrow morning to speak with your father, " Saphira requested as she watched them intently before adding, " Meet me at the Bifrost site after breakfast. In the meantime let me show you to your chambers in the palace and introduce you to your private handmaidens." Saphira led them through the intricately designed ivory and silver painted halls, towards the royal quarters where their separate yet adjacent rooms awaited. After complementing the beauty that is Alfheim, and being introduced to the handmaidens they thanked Saphira kindly before parting ways with her until the following morning.

Unfortunately, for Saphira she was not the only one who had been doing some investigating, nor was she the only clever being in existence. She was very subtle and obviously knew what she was doing he would give her at least that much credit just not openly of course. No one had come closer to almost outwitting him then she had, and in doing so she captured his attention. She may soon learn to regret the fact that she had. During his observations, he had come to learn that she was, in fact, a master of seidr, a prodigy like himself. Deception and manipulation were amongst his many skills. If there was a way he could bend her to his will, and use her for his own purposes whatever they may be he'd find it.

Her problem was that she was already fascinated by him, which made things so much easier for him to control. The seed had already been planted; the scheming had already been started. Let the games begin, he thought as his thin lips curled upward into a sly and mischievous, almost devious smirk. Too bad she had not spotted the traitor in her midst. The following day was bound to bring about some sort of entertainment, but it was better than all the dullness before it. The Aesir could be terribly boring, and they seriously lacked any sort of legitimate sense of humor. On the plus side, his children were with the naive princess and it had been some time since he'd seen either of them.

Somewhere else, in a realm separate from all others someone was planning and gathering allies for something that had the potential to destroy everyone and everything. Soon, choices and sacrifices were going to happen even if they were unwelcome. Of course, none of this would be found out until much later. Let the games and complications begin.

A/N: https://www.wattpad.com/user/xChaosIncarnate

https://chaosincarnatecreativewriting.wordpress.com/

#marvel #fanfiction #norse mythology #greek mythology #fantasy #creative writing #loki #thor #avengers #asgard #alfheim #midgard #olympus #novel

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lindyhunt · 6 years

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Meet the Markles: A Comprehensive Timeline of Meghan’s Family Drama

Since the beginning of Meghan Markle and Prince Harry’s royal romance, Markle’s family — in particular, her half-siblings and father, Thomas Markle— have been more than willing to give their two cents about the Duchess of Sussex. Here is a look at the family drama that has occurred since the royal romance began.

Meet the Family

Before we dive into this sordid timeline, let’s go over its key players:

Doria Ragland is Meghan’s mother. Doria and Meghan’s father, Thomas, divorced when Meghan was six years old. Doria has met Prince Harry, and he thinks that she is “amazing.”

Thomas Markle Sr. is Meghan’s father. The former lighting director filled for bankruptcy in 2016, which has turned to one of the same sources of family accusations against Meghan. He now lives a seemingly laid back life in Mexico.

Samantha Grant (who now goes by Markle) is Meghan’s half-sister. They have the same father, and Samantha is 17 years older than Meghan. She has been the most outspoken member of Meghan’s family since her courtship with Harry in 2016. She is said to be writing a memoir called “The Diary of Princess Pushy’s Sister.” According to Samantha, it is less a tell-all and more to do “with the interracial evolution of this country through the lens of my life and my family since the civil rights act until present.” Keep in mind that while Meghan Markle is bi-racial, her half-siblings are not.

Thomas Markle Jr. is Meghan’s half-brother. They also share a father and he is 11 years her senior. He was arrested last year for allegedlyTyler and Thomas Dooley (Thomas Jr. Jr.?), with ex-wife Tracy Dooley.

It all started when…

December 28, 2017: Markle’s siblings slam Harry for saying the royals are “the family she never had”

Meghan’s siblings were quick to respond to a BBC interview in which Prince Harry referred to the royals as “the family [Meghan] never had.” Brother Thomas Jr., told the Daily Mail that their father was “extremely hurt” over this comment and that “obviously, she had a family. She was very privileged. She got everything she ever wanted.” Half-sister Samantha also responded via her Twitter account (which she has now made private), saying: “Actually she has a large family who were always there with her and for her. Our household was very normal and when dad and Doria divorced, we all made it so it was like she had two houses. No one was estranged ,she was just too busy. Read my book complete with facts and photos.”

Jan 10, 2018: Samantha Markle calls sister out for engagement photo

Photography via instagram.com/KensingtonRoyal

Half-sister Samantha did an interview with In Touch in which she claims that Meghan owes much of her success to their father, saying that “he gave her so much of who she is.” She then went on to call out her half-sister about not helping their father with his financial troubles, mentioning the $75,000 Ralph & Russo gown Meghan wore in her engagement photos. “If you can spend $75,000 on a dress, you can spend $75,000 on your dad.” She also added that Meghan’s mother Doria has become “possessive and controlling” over her daughter.

Feb 5, 2018: Samantha says that she’s disappointed in Meghan

In an interview with Australian news show A Current Affair, Samantha once again called out Meghan for not helping their father financially since he declared bankruptcy in 2016. “I don’t think that he feels that she owes him but, that is how I see it,” said Samantha. She then went on to seemingly discredit Meghan’s philanthropic work by saying that she’s seen “a lot of situations where celebrities visit a place that is poverty stricken and they’re wearing impeccable clothing. They themselves are wealthy, and it really feels like a photo opportunity. So it’s a little exploitive in my mind.”

February 8, 2018: Thomas Jr. says that Meghan is “ignoring” his plea for help

Meghan’s brother Thomas Jr. told In Touch magazine that he has received no help from his younger sibling in light of her royal engagement. According to Tom Jr. the connection to Meghan has caused a lot of media scrutiny for him and his family. “There was a time where people were following me around at work, taking pictures and posting horrible stories about me and my family saying I’m a white supremacist, a drug addict and a dealer, all this crap that just isn’t true,” said Thomas Jr. His lawyer has been in contact with the palace lawyers in hopes of getting some help with the negative press, but the interactions have been less than successful.

February 24, 2018: Samantha’s ex-husband speaks out

Samantha Markle’s ex-husband, Scott Rasmussen, told The Mirror that the royal couple should refrain from inviting the bride’s half-sister to their nuptials. According to Rasmussen, his “fame hungry” ex-wife is exaggerating her relationship with Meghan. “Harry and Meghan need to know the truth about her. She’s the last person who should be at Windsor Castle,” said Rasmussen. Rasmussen also said that his ex-wife “should act with some dignity, keep her mouth shut, and leave everybody else alone.” Samantha responded by saying that Rasmussen “wants to take advantage of my sister’s high profile. Scott vowed to get revenge when we got divorced. He is saying anything he can right now to disparage me.”

Mar 11, 2018: Brother Thomas Jr. does not receive wedding invite

An inside source told UK news outlet Express that Meghan’s brother, Thomas Jr., will not be invited to her wedding. The source said that her brother did not receive an invite due to all the interviews he has done with the media about his sister. “If he would quit talking to the media, Meghan would probably be more into the idea of inviting him,” said the source.

March 26: Meghan’s nephew and former sister-in-law confirm that they won’t be going to the wedding

Photography via youtube.com/goodmorningbritain

Meghan’s nephew Tyler Dooley and his mother Tracy have revealed that they have not been invited to the royal wedding, according to an interview with Good Morning Britain. However, Tyler remains optimistic, saying, “At this point, who knows? This all goes back to Meghan, it’s her day and her happiness.” Tyler’s mother Tracy, who was married to Meghan’s half-brother Thomas Jr., added, “I don’t think we’re going to get an invitation, and that’s fine. We’re OK with that and we’re supporting her. We’re so proud of her.”

March 28 2018: Meghan’s estranged family are revealed as wedding correspondents

An inside source told Us Weekly that Meghan’s half-sister Samantha, nephew Tyler and ex-sister-in-law Tracy are planning to fly to London to be correspondents for the royal wedding.

April 14, 2018: Meghan’s nephew begins making commemorative cannabis

Tyler Dooley, son of Thomas Jr., is planning to make a special hybrid of weed to celebrate his aunt’s wedding, appropriately named The Markle Sparkle. If for some reason the couple would like to try the custom cannabis, he told the Daily Mail that he would be “more than happy” to supply them with a sample, providing they come to Oregon where Dooley is a licensed medical marijuana grower.

April 23, 2018: Meghan’s niece begs family to leave Meghan alone

Meghan’s niece has spoken out in hopes that her family will leave her aunt alone, according to Metro UK. The estranged daughter of Meghan’s half-sister Samantha said she is “embarrassed” by her mother’s actions and that her mom’s interest in having a relationship with Meghan came after she started dating Prince Harry. “She wanted to be nice, to be friends, to say how much she loves her sister – but after years of telling me and the rest of the family how much she hates Meghan, how much of a narcissist Meghan apparently is and what a horrible woman Meghan is, which isn’t true at all.”

May 2, 2018: Thomas Jr. tells Harry not to marry Meghan

Meghan Markle’s half-brother has sent a letter to future brother-in-law Prince Harry as a final plea to call off the wedding. “Meghan Markle is obviously not the right [woman] for you,” he writes in a letter shared exclusively with In Touch. He then goes on to accuse her of abandoning their father after using him for money. “She easily forgets if it wasn’t for my father she would be [bussing] tables and babysitting to pay her old debt off.”

May 4, 2018: Palace confirms that Meghan’s parents will have roles in her wedding

Today we have provided an update on the Wedding of Prince Harry and Ms. Meghan Markle.

Read the full statement here: https://t.co/bhrPnJtrNm

— Kensington Palace (@KensingtonRoyal) May 4, 2018

Days after Meghan’s half-brother told Prince Harry and In Touch magazine that their father was snubbed, Kensington Palace confirmed that both Markle’s mom and dad will have roles in her wedding. “On the morning of the wedding, Ms. Ragland will travel with Ms. Markle by car to Windsor Castle. Mr. Markle will walk his daughter down the aisle of St. George’s Chapel. Ms. Markle is delighted to have her parents by her side on this important and happy occasion,” wrote a Kensington Palace spokesman.

May 12, 2018: Thomas Markle Sr. begins staging paparazzi photographs

Photos of Meghan’s father taken by “paparazzi” turned out to be taken by photographer Jeff Rayner in collusion with Thomas Sr. himself. The Daily Mail reported that the pair was caught on the security camera of an internet cafe in Mexico staging a photo of him looking at images of his daughter and Prince Harry. Other photos that were proven to be staged include him being measured by a “tailor” (who turned out to be an assistant at a party goods store), browsing through a book about English landmarks at a Starbucks, and lifting weights. It’s reported that Meghan’s father could have received up to £100,000 for the photos.

May 14, 2018: Meghan’s father pulls out of wedding, reveals he had a heart attack

After he was caught staging photographs with paparazzi, Thomas Markle Sr. has said he will not attend his daughter’s wedding, telling TMZ that his motives for the images were not “principally about money.” He was hoping improve his image but now he “deeply regrets” it. The report also revealed that Meghan’s father had suffered a heart attack six days earlier, but checked himself out of the hospital so that he could attend the wedding. However, the embarrassment of the photo scandal has led to him opting out of walking his daughter down the aisle.

May 14, 2018: Half-sister Samantha takes credit for staged photos

On the same day, Samantha Markle did an interview with British TV show Loose Women, defending her father and taking responsibility for the staged photos. “I have to say that I am entirely the culprit. As we know, the media can take very unflattering photographs on their casual days and blow it way out of proportion… I said ‘you need to show the world that you’re getting in shape and doing great, healthy things,’” said Samantha. She then went on to say that the plan was not money motivated and that if her father did receive any compensation for the photos it would be “a pittance.” She also confirmed that the last time she and Meghan spoke was in 2015, when she called Meghan to talk about their father.

May 15, 2018: Samantha gets called out by Piers Morgan

Photography via youtube.com/goodmorningbritain

Samantha returned to Good Morning Britain for an interview with a less-than complimentary Piers Morgan. On the show, she confirmed that the last time the sisters saw each other was in 2008, and that their last contact was a phone conversation in 2015. Samantha then went on to blame the media for her father’s heart attack as well as the negative portrayal of their family. Piers was having none of it, and responded by saying, “We can’t respect it coming from a woman who’s been trading her very tenuous relationship with Meghan Markle, who’s had one conversation with her in ten years and has been popping up on the world’s airwaves…Some may say it’s pretty rich coming from you, Samantha Markle, to come on television and blame media vultures.” Samantha then went on to tell Piers that he shouldn’t believe everything he reads just because it’s in quotes. Yikes.

May 15, 2018: Some of the family arrives in London

Also on this day, Meghan’s nephews and former sister-in-law were photographed arriving at London’s Heathrow airport. Though they have not received invitations to the royal wedding, it has been previously speculated that they are going to be TV correspondents on Meghan and Harry’s special day.

May 15, 2018: Thomas Sr. is having surgery

Finally, Thomas Sr. told TMZ that he has changed his mind and now wants to walk Meghan down the aisle. However, he has to undergo heart surgery this week which means it’s unlikely that he will be able to make it to the nuptials. To really add to things, Meghan’s father said that the open letter his son sent to Prince Harry at the beginning of the month is what triggered his heart problems. The article also revealed that, according to Samantha, her father did receive compensation for the staged photographs—around $1,500 plus royalties (pun intended?).

May 16, 2018: Thomas Sr. heads in for surgery and Samantha Markle does another interview

As it stands, Meghan’s father’s surgery is said to be scheduled for this morning. In the meantime, Samantha Markle had a chat with TMZ about, you guessed it, Meghan Markle. The interviewer tells Samantha that Meghan has reportedly made it clear that she does not want her half-sister to be speaking to the press. “There’s something in this country known as free speech. She doesn’t have a copyright on that and she’s not going to tell me that I can’t speak my own life or my father’s where it’s a matter of public self defence because the media is disparaging us… She’s way out of her league to tell me that I can’t speak,” responded Samantha.

Samantha then went on to say that she and her half-sister do not have a relationship as of the past year, blaming the media for their falling out. However, if we look back just two days, Samantha confirmed that the last time the sisters spoke was in 2015. I’m so confused.

May 16, 2018: Samantha Markle in car crash after “paparazzi confrontation”

Half-sister Samantha has been in a car accident after an alleged run-in with the paparazzi, according to TMZ. Samantha’s boyfriend, Mark, told TMZ that he swerved into a concrete barrier after a photographer swerved in front of them in hopes of getting a clear shot. Mark then drove Samantha (who is said to have a broken ankle and fractured knee from the accident) to the hospital.

May 16, 2018: Thomas Sr. is out of surgery

Also in the hospital? Meghan Markle’s father, who just had surgery after suffering a heart attack eight days ago. TMZ spoke to Thomas Sr. after his surgery, where he said “I’m ok. It will take a long time to heal. Staying in the hospital a few more days. Not allowed to get excited.”

May 17, 2018: Meghan Markle confirms that her father will NOT be at the wedding

A statement from Ms. Meghan Markle: pic.twitter.com/TjBNarmuBU

— Kensington Palace (@KensingtonRoyal) May 17, 2018

This morning, Meghan Markle released a statement confirming that her father will not be attending the wedding. “I have always cared for my father and hope he can be given the space he needs to focus on his health,” reads the statement. There has been no word yet on who will be walking Meghan down the aisle, but there is speculation that it could be her mom, Prince William or Prince Charles.

May 18, 2018: Prince Charles will walk Meghan down the aisle

An update on the #RoyalWedding: pic.twitter.com/wfJ6ZFyzHi

— Kensington Palace (@KensingtonRoyal) May 18, 2018

Kensington Palace has announced that Prince Charles, Harry’s father, will walk Meghan down the aisle at their wedding. This news comes just one day before the couple’s wedding. The statement reads that Meghan asked Prince Charles if he would walk her down the aisle and that Charles is “pleased to be able to welcome Ms. Markle to The Royal Family in this way.”

May 18, 2018: “No evidence” found of Samantha Markle’s crash

According to local law enforcement in Florida, they have been unable to find any proof of the “paparazzi confrontation” that lead to a car accident for Samantha Markle and her boyfriend. “We can’t find any reports basically from all of central Florida. We can’t find a report by name or a scenario that was similar to this,” Lt. Kim Montes told the DailyMail.com. Furthermore if Markle’s boyfriend, Mark, did hit a barricade and failed to report it, he could be charged with a hit-and-run under Florida law and face up to two months in jail.

May 22, 2018: Samantha Markle takes to Twitter

Samantha has returned to Twitter to give her two-sense about her half-sister’s royal wedding. Most of the critique was targeted to Meghan’s mother, Doria Ragland, who she said “looked more like the hockey player in the penalty box” at the wedding. She also tweeted how it was “ridiculous” that she was sitting by herself at the ceremony and accused her of being a sell-out. Doria wasn’t the only subject of Samantha’s critique, she then went on to slam the bride after it was reported that Meghan didn’t mention her father in her toast. “So she didn’t mention my dad and his shout out at the reception either? I guess she ignored the bishop’s sermon about love and forgiveness,” tweeted Markle. She then compared the royal family to the Addams family “but with billions of dollars.”

May 29, 2018: Samantha critiques Meghan’s Coat of Arms

View this post on Instagram

Introducing The Duchess of Sussex’s Coat of Arms. Follow our Story to find out more.

A post shared by Kensington Palace (@kensingtonroyal) on May 25, 2018 at 6:39am PDT

Meghan Markle’s coat of arms was revealed this past week, and Samantha Markle is NOT impressed. In her latest take to Twitter, Samantha said that it “looks like it was drawn by someone in a kindergarten classroom”. Yikes. But that’s not all, Samantha then went to go on to attack Meghan, saying that the new coat of arms does not suit her. Her main issue appeared to be with the three quills that are said to represent communication. “She does not communicate with people she cuts people out of her life including a best friend of 30 years and two speeches in her whole lifetime does not make her a public speaker,” said one tweet. Along with “Her degrees are in drama and foreign affairs and only a bachelor degree,” and “Her motto is say nothing and she cut everyone off.”

Speaking of Meghan’s “only a bachelor degree,” her university education makes her one of two royal brides in the history of the British Monarchy to receive a university education. She is accompanied by sister-in-law Kate Middleton who has a master’s degree in Art History.

June 18, 2018: Thomas Markle Sr. has his first tell-all interview

Thomas Markle Sr. opted to speak with Piers Morgan and Susanna Reid on Good Morning Britain for his first tell-all interview. In the world exclusive, Thomas Sr. speaks about his relationship with the royal family, missing his daughter’s wedding and, most surprisingly, Prince Harry’s political affiliations.

Clearly, Markle’s father is unaware of the longstanding tradition of royals avoiding political talk. Or, he just doesn’t care. Speaking about a phone call with his daughter and Prince Harry, Thomas Sr. shares that he and the British royal discussed President Donald Trump. “Our conversation was, I was complaining about not liking Donald Trump, he said ‘give Donald Trump a chance.’ I sort of disagreed with that.”

On top of sharing Harry’s opinions on the political climate across the pond, Thomas Sr. also spoke to a conversation he had with Harry about Brexit. (The tricky topic was, of course, brought up by Morgan.) “It was just a loose conversation about something that we have to try. There was no real commitment to it.” Morgan pressed further, asking if Harry supported Brexit. To which Thomas (thankfully) kept his answer somewhat vague: “I think he was open to the experiment.”

This is why @KensingtonRoyal won’t welcome Thomas Markle’s interview on @GMB. He’s talking about his conversation with Prince Harry about Donald Trump and Brexit 😳 pic.twitter.com/P6OfJtbWHX

— Chris Ship (@chrisshipitv) June 18, 2018

The interview wasn’t all politics: at another point in their on-air chat, Thomas Sr. teared up as he reflected on his infamous staged photos, calling them a “mistake.” He continued on to say that he “spoke to them both and apologized” for the images, insisting that Harry and Meghan were “very forgiving.”

July 16, 2018: Thomas Markle Sr. gives his second tell-all interview

In a new interview with British tabloid The Sun, Thomas Markle Sr. asserts his belief that his daughter is miserable in her role as the Duchess of Sussex. Here are some of the highlights. (And by highlights, we of course mean cringe-worthy moments):

“My thing about my daughter right now is that I think she is terrified. I see it in her eyes, I see it in her face and I see it in her smile. I’ve seen her smile for years. I know her smile. I don’t like the one I’m seeing now. This one isn’t even a stage smile – this is a pained smile.”

“Meghan seems like something out of an old movie. Why in 2018 are we dressing like the 1930s? Why do they have to cover their knees?”

“Anyone who makes a profit off the Royal Family becomes shunned. But I could have made well over $100,000 by just doing a talk show. So if I moved to London and started selling cups with my daughter’s face on, would they shun me?”

August 12, 2018: Okay, Thomas Markle Sr. seriously doesn’t know when to stop talking…

Thomas Markle’s latest — and according to him, last (ha!) — interview has him addressing the facts and fiction of his narrative in the media. In the story, he claims that drinking a class of red wine with dinner is good for the heart, that fish from McDonald’s is part of a healthy post-heart attack diet and that he had a “heated” pre-wedding phone call with Prince Harry.

Shortly after the third explosive interview, the Daily Mail‘s Richard Kay reported that the royal family is in a state of “existential crisis” over the nonstop drama. “The perception is that he was treated very much as an afterthought,” said one royal aide, “No one went to visit him when the answer would have been to have someone fly out from London and explain to him how things were going to happen. Even after he started talking to the media it was not too late.”

December 9, 2018: Thomas Markle Sr. launches pre-Christmas campaign to get Meghan to speak with him

Well, well, well…it looks like Mr. Markle has lied to us all when he said he would no longer be giving interviews to the press. Meghan’s father, once again, spoke with the Daily Mail, where he shared intimate details about their relationship. “I have been frozen out and I can’t stay silent,” he said, “I have made dozens of attempts to reach my daughter via text and letters, but she and Harry have put up a wall of silence. They have done what they once told me not to do – they are believing everything negative that has been written about me.”

Then, in an effort to prove himself worthy of being let into the oh-so-private royal inner circle, Thomas Markle shared letters that the Duchess has written to him over the years — including the ‘Save the Date’ card from her first wedding. (She’s wearing a bikini. It’s on the beach. There’s a beer. It’s just a little different from the wedding announcement Kensington Palace made for Markle’s second nuptials.)

December 16, 2018: Samantha Markle criticizes the royal Christmas card

On December 14, Kensington Palace shared Meghan Markle and Prince Harry’s first Christmas card as a married couple. The black and white photograph is a BTS shot from their May wedding, and shows the royals holding onto one another as they watch a firework display over Frogmore House.

View this post on Instagram

The Duke and Duchess of Sussex are delighted to share a new photograph from their Wedding Reception at Frogmore House on 19th May. The photograph, which was taken by photographer Chris Allerton, features on Their Royal Highnesses’ Christmas card this year.

A post shared by Kensington Palace (@kensingtonroyal) on Dec 14, 2018 at 3:01am PST

Samantha hit Twitter to respond to Kensington Palace, writing “Interesting that the Duke and Duchess of Sussex have their backs turned. Is this towards the world or just the Ragland and Markle family? It’s a bit sad. Face the Christmas spirit.”

“It’s incredibly rude to turn your back in a Christmas photo that is meant to share warmth and good wishes with the world,” she wrote in another tweet. “Those that criticize me for pointing out the truth, need to get that brown stuff off their noses. I hear the worlds smallest violin playing.”

December 16, 2018: Thomas Markle Sr. feels he’s been ‘ghosted’ by his daughter

During an appearance on Good Morning Britain, Thomas Markle—who Piers Morgan confirmed “received no payment for today’s interview”—said he’s tried to contact Meghan every day since the royal wedding, but has yet to receive a response.

WORLD EXCLUSIVE

’We’re family. Please reach out to me.’

Meghan Markle’s father Thomas says he tries to reach out to his daughter every day but hasn’t had a response.@piersmorgan | @susannareid100 | #GMB pic.twitter.com/o4VgU96SGD

— Good Morning Britain (@GMB) December 17, 2018

“She has always been a very controlling person and that is part of her nature, but she has never been rude. She has always been in charge,” he said. “I’ve been ghosted. I’m not sure why it’s happening. I love my daughter very much. I wish she would reach out, send me a text, anything. There has to be a place for me. I’m her father.”

Thomas then issued a statement directly to his daughter, you know, just in case she was watching: “I love you very much. I would like to hear from you. Whatever difficulties we’ve had I hope we can work through them. We’re family.”

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bluebookbadger-blog · 7 years

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The Price of a Life - Chapter 7

Title: The Price of a Life Fandom (s): Fullmetal Alchemist/Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood Summary: I always thought waking up in another world would be a lot more…interesting. At least slightly exciting and terrifying, but it really wasn’t. It was more of a sudden and underwhelming event, that landed me in the company of fiction and its ignorance to modern physics. I thought it was a dream. Boy was I wrong. Characters: SI/OC, Maes Hughes, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, etc. Rating: PG-13

A/N: I do not own any of the following: Avatar: The Last Airbender, the Grand Prix, Marvel or D.C. comics, or any other cultural references made by any unknown characters not associated with the FMA or FMAB series.

"To the library!" I announced, mimicking Sokka from Avatar: The Last Airbender as we finally arrived back in Central. Johann had left the apartment before us, in a hurry to check on his lab I assumed, so we left as soon as the first train arrived. Which happened to be at 4:30 in the morning, meaning I was beginning to feel the effects of long term sleep deprivation and was acting ridiculous the entire train ride.

I complained about everything, cried when there wasn't any milk on the drink cart, and had now entered a state of hysterics that made everything a reference to my world's culture - which, to be honest, was hilarious considering Hughes didn't understand one bit of what I talking about when it came to the Grand Prix and binge watching Daredevil. However, the library seemed to be the key to catching his attention.

"I guess we have time to stop by there if you want to-" I hugged him, to tired to realize why or care that I was suffocating both him and Lucha.

"Please? I need a book or something soon, I'm going to die of literature deprivation - so you guys have any sci-fi stuff or is it just fantasy and essays?" The afternoon sun beat down hard as I skipped next to Hughes. I was really looking forward to a nap, this hyperactivity probably wasn't a good sign.

"Sci-fi?" Maes asked, rubbing his chin. "Is that like, science documents or something like that?" I stopped skipping - it was starting to bother my ankles, and the long skirt I was wearing kept getting caught under the toes of my boots.

"Never mind that, you're actually taking me to the library?" I asked, calming down a little. Being cooped up in that tiny train car had gotten me so excited to get out, I hadn't realized he actually agreed to my ridiculously versed request.

"Sure, why not? I sent Gracia a telegram saying we wouldn't be back until supper time, so we have a few hours to kill." I cocked my head to one side, trying to keep from asking if the library had burned down yet or not.

"What about work? Don't you have to file some things on Scar? And what about Maria and Denny, are they my babysitters anymore or not?" I asked, directing the barrage of questions at Hughes but only looked straight ahead at the cracks in the cobblestone street. Hughes' chuckle made me lose my staring contest with the ground.

"Work can wait. Besides, you sounded really enthusiastic about going." Lucha poked his head out of the bag and nipped my elbow.

"Okay, I guess it wouldn't hurt to stop for a little while." And so we made the trek all the way to the first branch of the state library.

The first branch of the state library was, in words, reflective of Amestris' imposing architectural style with a spirit of exciting discoveries and intense focus all rolled into one pristine white building. After a moment at gaping up at the complex, I hurried past Hughes through the double door entrance to breath in the smell of fresh ink and old paper. A familiar smell in an unfamiliar world.

"Mac!" Hughes called after me as I ran down one of the many endless hallways, but he was quickly shh-ed by a librarian somewhere in the labyrinth of paper. I scanned the spines of the books as I softly and quickly padded in between the book shelves. It was saddening to think it would all go up in flames soon, but that was all the more reason to enjoy it while it was still there.

The old books were arranged by the Dewey Decimal system, though I bet it wasn't called that here. After turning down several branches paths, I discovered the small fiction section of the library. And by small, I mean less than two full shelves of mythos about Xerxes and other past civilizations. Despite this shortage of preferred reading material, I dove right in. I grabbed the first four books I could and sat down with my back to the shelves as I opened the first novel, Xerxes' Princess. It was a sappy love story with drama and angst, but it was something.

The princess, Perenelle, was vaguely familiar from somewhere, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. She had an interest in alchemy, and commissioned many temples and sculptures to the gods. She also had a secret love for the slave boy who was the caretaker of the palace. Perenelle however, was destined to marry off to a prince in Xing as a peace offering after a war with the eastern country.

Very cliche in its approach, but it was interesting in that it provided glimpses of what 'modern' 1914 culture viewed as important enough to write about. Like sappy romances that followed a Romeo and Juliet type plot. I had just gotten to the good part, when the king was torturing her lover by chaining him over hot coal, when I could honest to Truth smell something burning. It was the library, or at least something in the library judging by the smoke that was wafting over and between the shelves.

I got up, still clutching the novel to my chest in fear as I looked around. No one was panicking, but that was because there was no one around.

"Hughes?" I called out, fear tinging my voice. No one responded, and no one yelled at me for being so loud. "Hughes!" I called again louder, my voice cracking with anxiety.

I got up and ran back in the direction I had come. Unfortunately, I had absolutely zero sense of direction, which resulted in me being lost. I was somewhere in the history department of the labyrinth when I realized just how lost I was. The smoke was burning my eyes, and each breath felt as if I was breathing the fire itself. It was getting harder to breath by the second, and I could not feel my feet or my hands as stars danced across my vision.

I ended up hiding under a desk, watching the billows of smoke dance around the small alcove I had made my temporary refuge. My breathing was constricted, the breaths becoming shorter and shorter. My vision faded to black, the only thought coming to mind that it would be really disappointing to die now.

"...with her! She ran off before I could stop her-" I awoke to Hughes' voice and many other voices arguing, most of it a muddled blur of murmured sounds, nothing I could really place.

I was lying on my back on something soft, a bed from my best guess. It had a thin blanket, thin enough that I could feel the slight draft coming from the window to the right of my head. The familiar weight of an oxygen mask covered my mouth and nose, and the puffs of air told me I was probably in a hospital. I felt around myself, for Lucha and my bag. If someone had read my notebook all hell would break loose, and it would explain the angry voices I heard around me.

"I think she's waking up." Armstrong's voice boomed nearby, feet shuffling in my direction as I glared against the bright lights of the hospital. It was easier to breath now, but the choking grip of my asthma still made it a challenge.

The faces were blurry, but I could make out who was hovering over me like a swarm of bees. With brooding expressions, Mustang and Hughes stood to the left of my bed, while Armstrong and the babysitting duo were on my right. I was pretty sure Hawkeye was in the room, but she must have been out of my field of vision.

"I'll call the doctor," Riza's voice said, the sound of a door closing indicating her leaving for said medical professional. I tried to sit up, but Roy's hand pushed me down.

"You need rest," He said, his dark eyes piercing and commanding. I sat up anyways, not comfortable laying down on my back. The feat nearly made me pass out again and caused my world to temporarily spin, but it gave me some form of relief to know I was able to move on my own.

"What happened?" I asked as I pulled the mask down for a moment, nearly out of breath from sitting up. However, the thought of someone finding my notebook keeping me from falling back into the lull of sleep.

"There was a fire-"

"I know, what happened after that?" I asked, wondering how someone found me. And from what the show depicted, the library was a pile of rubble. There was a slim chance I could have survived being trapped under that much debris and live, and judging by my luck, I wouldn't have.

"The fire brigade found you just before the building collapsed, luckily no one was killed." Roy shot a glare at Hughes. "Though it was a close call, Hughes." I waved my hand, mostly to get some feeling into it but also to dismiss any hard feelings between the two.

"It was my fault for running off," It was getting easier to breath, if only slightly so. I took the oxygen mask off, not even bothering to ponder if it was even invented yet in my world's 1914 timeline. I took a few deep breathes, readjusting to the environment. Judging by the amount of light coming from the window, it was day - but the dark circles under Hughes and Mustang's eyes said they hadn't slept. "How long was I out?" I asked, bringing a hand to my face to rub my tired eyes.

"Through the night," Armstrong answered, looming over me with his imposing stature as I sputtered in disbelief. All night? Sure, I had passed out from an asthma attack before, but never for that long, at least not without brief moments of consciousness. Maybe it was just the cumulative exhaustion of the past week or two catching up with me. Suddenly, my initial panic that had woken me up returned

"Where's Lucha? And my things?" I looked frantically between the people assembled around me. Before anyone could reply, the door opened as Riza let the doctor in.

He was a stout man, his dirty blonde hair combed back and a pair of small, round spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose obscured his eyes. In his right hand he held a clipboard, in the left he held a mug of steaming black coffee.

Before we continue, let me just explain that I have a hatred for a) hospitals, b) doctors, and c) coffee.

This man was the embodiment of my worst childhood memories - hours in the emergency room and overnight stays at the hospital every other week, doctors who couldn't figure out that it was just damn asthma set off by pneumonia. Coffee from the doctors had pervaded even the most sterile rooms. I was not sure why I disliked coffee so much, it was probably linked to some oppressed memory or some psychology shit like that.

"Try to breath normally, Miss. Irish." The doctor - he had a little name card the read Dr. Klaus - said this as he sat on the bed beside me, stethoscope in hand. It took me a moment to realize I had been holding my breath. I looked up, my musings about my seething hatred for coffee ceasing as the glare of his glasses disappeared to reveal his eyes. His purple eyes. I didn't move as the cold stethoscope traced a path over my chest, clinking against my necklaces.

"Hm, your heart rate is slightly elevated, and your breathing is faster than normal. Under the circumstances, its normal. I'd like to keep her here for the rest of the day just to make sure there are no complications." Dr. Klaus said, looking to Mustang for approval. The man nodded, looking to his subordinates. Dr. Klaus slipped out of the room, the door opening and closing almost silently courtesy of Riza Hawkeye.

"Try to keep a closer watch on her this time." Mustang said as I stared blankly into space, my heart beating loudly in my chest. He and his Lieutenant exited the room with a brief nod to Hughes and Armstrong.

There were a million reasons why he had purple eyes. He could have had some ocular albinism or it could be natural - if Ed's eyes were possible, purple wasn't too far off. He was probably just some normal guy - and it wasn't as if the homunculi knew how much I knew, was it?

And if it was Envy or some other homunculi creature, it would have killed me if it thought I was a threat to their plans unless I was some amazing alchemist they could use as a sacrifice. And judging from my inability to even stay awake in chemistry class, that was a pretty non existent circumstance.

An image of Pride's creepy shadows flashed in my mind and a shiver passed through my body. Hughes shut the window, though it didn't do much to help with the sinking pit in my chest.

"Are you cold Mac?" He asked, looking to the Armstrong Squad. "We could get you a blanket-"

"Where's Lucha?" I asked, needing an answer. It didn't matter if I was going to be killed or worse - if that was going to be the case - I wanted to have the only other living thing I had from my world with me when it happened. The air became tangible with the silence, I could almost cut it with a knife.

"No one's seen him since the fire," Maria finally said, her voice straining with worry for my reaction. I looked down and sighed, gripping the white bed sheet in my fists.

I didn't even miss Lucha, at least not consciously, but without a vessel, I wouldn't be able to communicate with the Truth. And that threw a flaming wrench from hell into my plans and sent my inquiries for the all-knowing being more shattered than my dreams of being a well-off paleontologist.

"And my stuff?" I was surprised at my ability to keep from crying, but the crack in my voice indicated my distress to the four others in the room.

"All salvaged," Denny said, looking to the Major. "Would you like us to fetch it-"

"Yes, thank you." I said curtly, pulling the hospital sheet up around myself. "And, could you please get that extra blanket?"

Hughes smiled at me, his usual smile. The one that made your heart melt and the whole room light up with his contagious optimism.

"Sure, you want anything else?" He asked, pretending to write on his hand with an invisible pen. I rolled my eyes at his antics. It was good to see that side of Hughes. Denny and Maria had since left, both smiling as the scene unfolded behind them.

"Two decks of cards." He gave me a smirk.

"I don't play poker anymore, Gracia said gambling is an unhealthy habit." I reached out to swat at him, but he nimbly moved away.

"It's for 3 to 13 and garbage and stuff like that you big dummy." I said with a short laugh. Armstrong and Hughes looked at each other and then at me. "What?"

"What's 3 to 13?" Hughes asked. My shoulder's fell, but quickly came back up. So much for my grandfather teaching me card games - now it was my turn to teach someone else.

"It's like Rummy, I guess."

"And this 'garbage' game?" I found myself smiling as Denny and Maria came back.

"I'll teach you if you'll play poker with me, Hughes." I said, holding a hand out to him. He shook it, clapping me over the shoulder.

"Deal."

We spent the whole afternoon playing card games. Teaching them all how to play garbage and 3-13 was a challenge; Denny kept dropping his cards after we got past ten, and Hughes still didn't understand how a king was worthless in garbage. Afterwards we, meaning Armstrong, Hughes, and I, played poker using a random assortment of knick-knacks from my bag as chips.

It was actually fun, even with the looming threat of the apocalypse.

I went home that night, the doctor who did the final checkup was not Dr. Klaus thanks to Truth wherever the hell it was. The next few days involved a lot of sleep. As in more than eight hours every night sleep. I barely slept this well even before I woke up in this hellish alternate reality.

Elicia was pretty torn up about Lucha disappearing, but Hughes made it up to her by reminding her that she was going to turn 3 in less than a week. In a little more than a week Hughes would be dead.

The next two days were spent in my room more or less, mourning the loss of Lucha. I didn't feel sad, more of a hollow feeling as if some part of me had been carved away, but a crushing weight of an impending implosion was absent. I did feel a few warm tears drip down my face as I lay in my bed the morning of the second day, staring at the white ceiling. It was going to be a rather lonely journey without the little guy, but I guessed it was going to be one less thing I cared about loosing.

There was a knock at the door, and I didn't move at first, still contemplating how the next week would play out. The knock came again, this time louder. I sat up, wondering why Gracia hadn't answered it yet. It then struck me that she had left not too long ago to buy Elicia's birthday gift while the little girl was at a friend's house for a play date.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, hoping I looked a little better than I felt. I was only wearing my grey and white polka dot nightgown, so it was hopefully Hughes checking in as he had done so the day before. I opened my door, its glass knob turning with a creak.

That was another thing about this world that was charming. Almost all of the doorknobs were glass or brass, as if you were back in your grandmother's house. My house back home was pretty old, and all of the doors had glass knobs that took a few tries to properly open the door. I had somehow made my way to the door, looking at its own glass knob with a nostalgic apathy.

I looked up in surprise at Alphonse's bulking height standing behind Edward's own diminutive one.

"Hi Irish," Alphonse said, his childish voice echoing cheerfully. "We wanted to stop by and see how you were doing." I looked tiredly between the two brothers before stepping aside to allow them in. I could feel the questions burning in Edward's eyes, of what I did not know.

"I'm doing okay," I said, coughing a little as we sat down on the couches, causing nearly invisible dust clouds to float up and irritate my breathing. It would be really useful if Truth had given me my inhaler or something. "How are you boys? Last I saw you, you looked as if a rabid bear had gotten its way with you." Temporarily confused with my odd choice in comparison, Edward answered for his younger brother.

"Much better, thank you." He said curtly, though not impolite in tone. "We were wondering if you knew what caused the fire at the library." I shrugged, happy to get the mini-interrogation done with first instead of making small talk.

"Not sure, I was in the fiction section, smelled smoke, ran, got lost, and nearly suffocated. I really didn't see anyone or anything while I was looking for the exit." Ed nodded, his gold eyes trailing around the room.

"Did you happen to see anything written by a Tim Marcoh?" He asked, only to seem crestfallen when I shook my head, but he continued. "How about Mitch Racom?" I never thought about Marcoh using a pen name or anything like that. I thought back to the manuscripts I had skimmed over, but the cook book wasn't making itself abundantly clear.

"Nope, sorry." The building rumbled gently as pounding footsteps rushed down the hallway towards the apartment, and before I could say another word, Maria and Denny burst through the door in a panic.

"Mr. Elric, sir! You can't go and disappear like that - oh, hi Irish!" Denny rushed, Maria out of breath from their apparent mini marathon. Ed fumed in exasperation. He must have really hated being follow by the babysitting duo.

"I told you I wanted to go see if she knew anything!"

"Don't ditch us like that, it's our job to watch you." Maria asserted. "Besides, we found a lead." I looked up, my mind immediately thinking about a 'lead'. I couldn't recall a specific interest in the start of the first branch's fire, but it wouldn't surprise me if some focus and minor plot details had shifted. Whatever this lead was, it sure caught the boys' attention. "There's a woman who was well acquainted with the materials in the first branch." Ed got up from the couch, obviously with the intent to find the woman ASAP. "Unfortunately, she wasn't working there anymore." The blonde boy huffed, sitting back down.

"That sounds incredibly helpful," He replied sarcastically, crossing his arms in annoyance. I at least knew that they were talking about Sheska, not some random lead on an irrelevant case.

"Is something wrong?" Alphonse asked in his disembodied way, catching my attention. Denny was look at him kind of strangely.

"Oh, it's nothing," He said, his features no longer stoically inquisitive. "Although, if you don't mind me asking, why are you wearing a suit of armor?" I felt a smile briefly flicker across my face as the brothers quickly turned to one another.

"I-It's a hobby!" They said in sync, Maria and Denny obviously sending each other a whisper of disbelief.

"Why are you looking into Dr. Marcoh's work?" I asked, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen in place of the previous conversation. Ed turned to me, surprised.

"How did you know we were looking for his work?" He asked, suspicious of my intent guessing by the glare in his eyes. I held up my hands in defense, smiling despite myself.

"I read about him when I was doing a profile for Scar's target demographic. He's a medical bio-alchemist of sorts, right?" I said, hoping that sounded convincing. I personally hadn't looked over Marcoh's file, but I did remember seeing it somewhere in my comprehensive collection of State Alchemist paperwork.

"Uh, yeah. Kind of." Ed said curtly, getting up. "So where's this lady at?"

I sulked, upset I was being ignored for the first time since I arrived in this Truth forsaken world. If this wasn't real, I'd be growing mushrooms atop my head. My self pity ended as the trio left, the door closing behind them with a quiet thump.

The reality of how quiet the house was without anyone came rushing back like an icy tidal wave. I looked out the kitchen window, watching them pile into the back of one of the ancient vehicles known in this time period as a car. I sighed, knowing I wouldn't be able to lounge around forever wallowing in my own loneliness. Lucha was important to me, but even I was small in the scheme of what was happening.

After taking a quick bath, sure not to duck my head under again, I dressed in a simple white blouse with a blue overcoat and skirt to keep a low profile. I scribbled a quick note for the Hughes family, seeing the approaching evening. If the excursion I planned took longer than expected, I didn't want to worry my hosts. It felt strange not tucking Lucha into the carpet bag Gracia had given me, but I ignored the thought as I made sure my notebook and belongings were safely hidden away.

I resisted a sigh of resignation to another barefoot escapade as I spent almost ten minutes trying to secure the high button boots onto my ridiculously small and arched feet. After that ordeal was dealt with, I took a quick inventory of myself, habitually reaching for the small pocket knife I usually kept on my person at all times back in my own world.

I decided against stealing one of the Hughes' kitchen knives, reminding myself that I was trying to look inconspicuous. On that note, I grabbed an early cloche hat that adorned a fake flower or two and marched out the door.

I breathed in the humid evening air, the sun casting long shadows as it kissed the horizon and began to lean into its embrace. There were people out, to my surprise. Couples mostly, just enjoying a night out on the town, but a few children putting off dinner and elderly folks shuffling home from the store crossed my path from time to time. I was relieved when I finally made it to Central Park. The very same park I had arrived in.

There weren't really that many people around there, though a pair of familiar soldiers marched by me as I walked down the cobble stone pathway. I must have looked strange, my head swerving left and right as I looked for my target. When I finally found it, I cut across the lush, green grass and slowed as I approached the bench to the right of the structure.

It was a phone booth. I had never actually seen one, not in the lonely little town I was from. It had wooden framework and glass in between. The roof was a domed square, that was a paler than than the rest of the wooden pieces. From the looks of it, the framework was mahogany, probably used for its sheer weight and durability. The glass was tinted just enough for the innards of the booth to be obscured through the translucent glass.

To one side of the booth there was a bench. On the other side of the booth, a gas lamp post stood tall, its light not yet needed as the setting sun sent shafts of its light in blinding force to the earth.

I sat there, simply reflecting on what could or would happen there with my intervention. There were bushes that faded into a small wooded area behind me, and there was also a row of tall bushes on the other side of the walkway. No one would be able to see the murder unless they were lurking in the foliage or walking down the path, but this also meant it would be difficult to hide if needed.

I had five days until Sheska copied down the cookbook, and a few more days after that when the Elrics figure out how to make a Philosopher's stone. That night they would go to the fifth laboratory, and then Ed would spend two days in the hospital, and the day the Elrics and Winry left for Dublith was the day Hughes would die.

That was the plan, as long as I didn't throw a wrench into the plot. From my seat on the bench I could see a wing of Central Command, most likely the wing Hughes left to find a 'safe' line to call Mustang on.

The street lamp flickered to life as it was lit, the growing darkness around me only driven off by the glow of the lamps that were scattered throughout the park. The Central Command wing would be my objective of the next day. I stood up, closing my notebook after double checking that my best recreation of an aerial sketch of the phone booth area was as exact as possible. Somewhere in town the clock struck 6 o'clock, signaling it was time for me to return to the Hughes' residence. Tomorrow would be one day closer to Maes Hughes' death.

I actually didn't get to go inspect the government building the next day, as Gracia had employed my help shopping for Elicia's birthday. If it had not been mentioned earlier, I loathed shopping. It was a completely unnecessary torture in my mind - but if I had a daughter like Elicia who was turning three, I'd spend a few hours staring at party hats to figure out which ones she'd want.

We collected an assortment of various party materials; streamers, hats, those things you blow to uncurl that make a funny noise. Then came the food. We weren't making the cake that day, but Gracia was worried she'd be pressed for time, and that sending Elicia over to her friend's house every other day of the week for shopping didn't seem like good parenting.

So, here we were, in the middle of a busy farmer's' market on the other side of town trying to find some sugar, flour, oranges, and some other ingredients that were so generic I could point them out on the shelves of the Main Street Grocery shop with my eyes closed.

"Why couldn't we just buy them from Miss. Reich?" I asked, slightly annoyed as someone stepped on the hem of my brown skirt. As much as I loved the clothes Mrs. Hughes had picked out, they could be a hassle sometimes. Like right now, when I was more worried about stepping on one of the loose chickens than looking where I was going.

"Watch it!" A familiar, grumpy voice chided as his caged chicken squawked in fright as he dropped it. I murmured an apology for the forty sixth time that afternoon as I picked up the poor poultry and handed it to a certain Johann Adlersflügel. My eyes widened in recognition but before I could say a word he held finger to his lips, and picking up his produce, sped away.

"Johann-"

"Irish, could you help me with this?" Gracia asked, interrupting me with a large bag of fresh flour. As I struggled to hold up the heavy load, I lost sight of Johann.

Maybe he was just coming for Elicia's birthday. But then why the cold shoulder, did he just not recognize me? I was pretty hard to miss, even under all the drab clothes and hat. Maybe he wanted to surprise the Hughes' with his visit. But it worried me that he didn't just tell me, it was just strange.

These thoughts plagued my mind until we returned home, I happy to transfer the weight of the flour to the table. I rubbed my sore arms, noting that I'd need to start exercising now that I wasn't working on the farm every weekend.

Finally, the next evening, I was able to get to the wing of Central Command by the park. It seemed almost like a general government building, with civilians and soldiers mulling about and the quiet chatter of receptionists. To the left of the entrance, there were rows of private telephones shielded by dividers. I stood at the end of the cubicles, looking at the row with an anxiety filled heart that could only speculate how this would turn out without some help from little miss Mary Sue me.

"Excuse me, Miss," A young woman behind the counter spoke, her dirty blonde hair pinned back to frame her childish face. A single rebellious strand escaped, dangling in front of her shiny blue eyes. She probably was a little younger than my sister, Mary. "Can I help you with something?"

"Uh, yes, actually," I said, "Could you please show me to the archive room?" The young woman, her name tag read Adele Müller, cast a suspicious and wary glance in my direction.

"I'm sorry, the archive room isn't open to the public," Adele responded slowly, as if prepared for some big argument to ensue.

"Does this help?" I asked, sliding my beautifully laminated Certificate of Honorary Citizenship over the counter. She blinked in surprise as she lightly traced the Füher's signature. "May I please be shown to the archive room now?"

"Wow," She muttered under her breath before remembering I was still there, waiting patiently for an answer. "Oh, um, of course ma'am. Reggie!" She barked the man's name harshly, though she spoke almost reverently to me. Having the master key card was both a blessing and a curse.

Almost immediately, the soldier quickly flew to the counter. He was familiar, though I couldn't quite recall his name. He readjusted his wire framed glasses with his arm that wasn't in a sling before addressing Adele.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Take Miss. Dy-"

"Irish. Miss. Irish please." I said, catching the woman before she brutally murdered the pronunciation of my name. Unfazed, Adele spewed out the rest of her orders.

"Please take Miss. Irish to the archive room, and assist her in any way you can." Reggie nodded curtly before beckoning to me.

"And Azir, stay out of trouble this time, would you?" Adele added as we walked down the hallway to the right of the entrance. Azir...the arm in a sling…general dorkiness...

"Glasses jail dude?" I exclaimed a bit too loudly in the near empty hallway as the realization hit me. Reggie stared at me in confusion for a moment before I remembered that I was wearing a hat. I took it off, letting my now almost shoulder length white blonde hair tumble down. I wasn't kidding when I said I needed a haircut. It was his turn to have a wave of recognition pass over his face.

"Ishvalan jail guy?" I couldn't hold back a chuckle at his response. "What are you doing here? How are you here? Why are you wearing that?" I blushed as I glared down at the vintage dress I was wearing, the ribbons and lace making me feel very ladylike and pretty when I was trying it on that morning.

"I'm here to check out the archive room, I'm allowed to be here because I'm an Honorary Citizen or whatever, and I'm wearing a dress because I'm not a guy, I'm a lady." I said matter-of-factly as I counted the items off on my fingers.

"Well, I mean you're obviously a girl, um, it's just…" Mr. Azir, or Reggie I guessed his first name was, tried to form some sort of conversational response, and failed miserably. Either he wanted to apologize for mistaking me as a guy, or ask more questions, I couldn't tell. However, the pink flush that crawled onto his cheeks told me it wouldn't do any good to help him dig a deeper hole for himself.

"So, where's this fancy dancy little archive room?" I asked, trying to bring the mood above the awkwardness we had somehow descended into.

"This way," Reggie said softly, making me feel guilty for some reason. It wasn't my fault I looked particularly masculine when my hair was short, so then why did I feel so embarrassed for other people's mistakes?

Ugh, feeling emotions was difficult. I would actually rather spend a day debating philosophy and Marvel comics with Mr. Starks. Actually, I'd rather be debating anything with Mr. Starks than be here doing the crazy shit I was doing.

Mr. Starks had been my AP U.S. History and debate teacher back when I was a wee lil' Irish lass. Mr. Starks was that nerdy teacher that people either loved or hated, depending on their comic book preference. He didn't even look nerdy, if anything he looked like a lawyer or maybe some football coach. D.C. fans never won a debate with him, at least not that I had seen. I was not saying D.C. has bad comics, Truth no.

I was just saying one couldn't try to out-debate Mr. Starks when comic books were the subject of debate. Believe me, I had tried, but no matter what we talk about, Thor always trumped Superman and Captain America always beat Batman whenever Mr. Starks had a say in it. He had quite the way of twisting an argument and using perfectly structured evidence to either prove you wrong or promote his side of the debate.

"Here it is, ma'am." Reggie noted dully, not looking me in the eye as he opened the door to the surprisingly small room.

"This is the only archive room?" I said, recalling the smell and maps of the room from the week or so prior when I had last visited it. I sat down at the end of one of the dark wooden tables, looking from the ornate doors to my seat. It all lined up perfectly with the camera angle from the show, all that was missing was an injured Hughes and Lust.

"Yeah, we have closets and other places with some files scattered throughout Central Command, but this is the main archive room." Reggie said, leaving the door slightly ajar to let some light into the dimly lit room. I nodded and took out my notebook to trace a quick path from the entrance to the archive room before I forgot. It was a short path, which probably explained why Hughes wasn't flocked with concerned soldiers after he escaped Lust's attack. "What are you doing?" Reggie asked, suddenly seated beside me.

Without a second thought, my hand instinctively flew up to meet his forehead with a weak punch. It was merely instinct after years of younger brothers, but Reggie wasn't Matt hoping to steal my diary and ship it all the way to a person in which I took interest.

"Ah, sorry!" I squealed in surprise, not knowing what to do to show it was an accident. "You surprised me, is all." No you dumbass, he was in the room the whole time! You should have just waited until you got home to write it down! Ugh, stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Um, so, uh, what are you doing here in the archive room? Something you wanted to know?" He asked, rubbing his sore head. Reginald Azir. He had a pretty name now that I thought about it.

"I just wanted to know where it was; Lieutenant Colonel Hughes said to look for him here if he wasn't in his office." Reggie looked at me, surprise flashing through his grey eyes.

"You know Lieutenant Colonel Hughes?" I raised an eyebrow to this. I had been living with Hughes for, what had it been now, a month or so? Surely the military was more informed than this.

"I've been living with his family since I got my Honorary Citizenship paperwork. Although, I do have to 'move out' eventually according to Colonel Mustang." I said, using quotation marks for emphasis. Even if it was possible that Mustang could get me kicked out of the Hughes' apartment, there wasn't a law prohibiting them letting me stay there as a friend, at least not a law that I knew of.

"You know the Flame Colonel?" I rolled my eyes.

"I know a lot of people. And I had to meet with the Füher to get my paperwork signed so don't act so surprised." Reggie ignored my advice and continued gaping at me, as if I was his best friend telling him I just met his hero. Kind of creepy in a way. "Close your mouth Michael we are not a codfish."* I said, faking a British accent for effect as I stood to skim the tomes on the shelves.

"My name is Reggie, not Michael." Not-Michael said indignantly once he regained his senses and stood behind me as I searched the books. "Are you looking for something in particular? War history or simplified government structure?"

"You know this room well, I presume." I said, noting the way he occasionally picked a specific book from a nearby shelf to check its back cover. I did the same to discover multiple neat signatures within. Reggie being the newest edition at the bottom of the long list.

"I worked here as a curator before I was transferred to the prison. Obviously, that didn't work out, so now I'm back here. But it's nice, I can't complain - who doesn't like watching books all day?" He added the last part sarcastically, adding to my guilt. If it wasn't for me, he might still have his job at the prison and be one step closer to whatever his ideal soldier position was. Or he could be dead, but you know, the guilt outweighs the pride.

"Sorry," I said, the tightness in my chest subsiding slightly as I slipped around another corner, my hand feeling the spines of the books as I stalked by.

"It wasn't your fault, besides, I guess it's not so bad showing people where they can find answers." Now Reggie sounded guilty. The room had such a strange atmosphere, that the only way I knew how to break the building pressure to say something, was to ask to leave.

"Thanks for showing me how to get here, Reginald." I said as we emerged from separate aisles of tomes. "Could you walk me out, please?" I asked, making sure all of my possessions were still in my carpet bag.

We walked back to the front desk in silence. Not an uncomfortable silence, more of a tentatively calm one that we both feared would shatter if we spoke. With a nod to a curious Adele, I slipped out of the wing of Central Command and headed home through the park.

Something inside of me was terrified about talking to these people and getting to know them, but another part of me felt so liberated and happy for the first time since I woke up in this very park. I just felt so good.

I didn't feel guilty at all; not about MacDougal, not about my involvement with this world, not about starting to love these people as just that - people. They weren't two-dimensional drawings that evoked empathy from the viewer, they were living, breathing, sentient human beings with so much emotion and presence that they physically impacted the world around them.

I was all but skipping along my way, until I came upon the telephone booth. My pace slowed and I blinked slowly a few times as I continued. Death was on the horizon, and caring could only complicate an already delicate balance of the unknown and the known.

Masterlist

#fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #si/oc #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #bbb writes #bbb #bluebookbadger

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