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auramindedd · 4 years ago

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Fixed? Never - SMAU*

Part 3

CorpseHusband x FemReader

Warnings: cussing

A/N: again, any posts with a “ * ” attached to “smau” has writing in it. imma focus A LOT more on just the social media n message perspective, but y/n n corpse meet in this part soooo i had to add some writing :) something else b4 i forget; i’m updating my masterlist and changing it into a directory post that way you guys can also request through a google form! i’ll have requests open at all times unless i get too stressed out or if they overfill. due to me changing my masterlist, there’s gonna be about 6 posts i think. also,, thank you guys so much for 600 followers! i’ve been hitting a bunch of milestones and haven’t been remembering to say thank you, but just know that i appreciate every single one of you... also i love reading y’all’s comments 😭

🤍 directory

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•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You make sure you’re set up before 6 PM, which was probably a mistake. You can’t sit still, you’re starting to get nervous, and you kind of just want to run away to McDonald’s.

Sure, you know Ludwig, Dream, and Rae, but it feels like you’re at school all over again. That anxious feeling of having to be with people while your best friends aren’t around.

You’re leg is bouncing, your nails are tapping on your desk, and you can’t stop running your hand through your hair. It probably looks like a fucking bird nest by now.

You start streaming, deciding that maybe talking to your supporters will make things a bit better.

“Hey, loves,” You greet in a not so Y/N-fashioned way. Of course, the chat catches on, and you’re being called out for it. You can’t help but giggle at the fact that your supporters know how you usually are.

@user: What happened to, “Hey, bitches!”

@user: Ou, someone is nervous.

Yeah, they obviously know you very well.

“Alright, let’s start over.” You clear your throat for dramatic effect because, well, when are you not dramatic? “Hey, bitches!” Yup, even you know that just feels right.

After a while of talking to your supporters, Rae sends you the Discord invite and the Among Us code. You join, feeling your nerves start to come back.

“Y/N!” Rae exclaims in excitement when she sees you’ve joined the Among Us lobby.

“Hi,” You say, shyness lacing your voice.

“Oh my God! The cutest voice.” Jack says. Wow, what a compliment coming from the Jack_Septic_Eye.

You take time to introduce yourself to everyone, trying to calm your nerves.

“Are we gonna start?” Ludwig’s impatient ass asks.

“We’re waiting for Corpse.” Rae explains.

Shit, another person you have to introduce yourself to?

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets quickly, very obviously racing to be the first to say hi to Corpse.

“Hey, Sykkuno,” Corpse chuckles, and woah, the last thing you expected. You can’t help but be surprised, and you know it’s showing on your face. Why? Because your supporters are teasing you in the chat.

“Corpse,” Rae says in a sing-songy tone. “This is Y/N.” And your heart drops to your fucking stomach. Every single time it happens when you have to meet someone, but now your heart is beating even faster because you’re obviously the only one who hasn’t met Corpse. They’re all expecting a reaction out of you...

“Hey, Y/N.” His deep, husky voice says. You can hear the smile in his voice and it helps ease your nerves.

“Hi,” You greet, shyness still lacing your voice.

Corpse chuckles, “So cute.” Now you’re blushing. Great...

Rae starts the game, saving you before the others can start teasing you.

Crewmate.

You’ve only played Among Us once, in a public server with Dream, George, Karl, and Alex, and then you got bullied for not knowing what the fuck to do.

To say the least, you’re pretty glad to be Crewmate and not Impostor.

“Y/N!” Jack shouts, walking up to you. You slightly jump, forgetting they’re playing with Proximity Chat.

“Jack!” You shout back, letting his astronaut catch up to you.

“We were expecting a reaction.” He says, and of course they were.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t know. I feel like he hears it a lot, don’t want to add on to the list of Things People Say To Him Everyday.”

“Yeah, he’s probably very grateful for that.”

“Grateful for what?” Charlie walks up to you two.

“Nothing,” Jack drawls. You’ve just met Charlie, but you know that he’d tease both you and Corpse about one another’s voices.

“Oh, I know!” Charlie exclaims, but before he can say what he knows-

“Okayyy! That’s enough interaction with Charlie for today.” Jack says, and you take that as a, ‘Walk the fuck away now, Y/N!’

You walk around, trying your best to finish tasks, but when it comes to the card swipe in Admin, you want to quit life as a whole.

“Ugh, I fucking quit.” You groan, slamming your hands on your desk. A deep, rumbling chuckle comes through on your headphones.

“Having trouble?” Corpse teases.

“Yeah. I wanna rip every strand of my fucking hair out.”

“Swipe it slower.” And with that, you try again. Voila! Just like magic.

“Well if I would’ve fucking known.” You groan, Corpse chuckling.

“Here, I can help you with the game.”

“Yes, please, I don’t know shit about it.”

“You know, you cuss a lot for having such a sweet, innocent, and cute voice.” Corpse laughs.

“Yeah,” You drawl. “I know, bad fucking habit.” You slap your hand over your mouth. How does someone cuss in every sentence? Get a filter, damn.

Corpse walks around with you as you both finish tasks, explaining how the game works, and giving you tips for when you do end up being an Impostor.

Honestly, you could listen to his voice all day. He’s also really sweet.

“What are you two up to?” Brooke asks, doing tasks in Electrical with you two. Corpse told you to make sure you’re always aware of your surroundings when you’re in Electrical. So, naturally, you’re freaking out, but silently and internally.

“Brooke,” Corpse warns. He doesn’t even have time to finish his warning. Brooke kills him, his body flopping over, the one bone sticking out from the top of his body. Your mouth falls open.

“Hey, Y/N. Let’s be besties!” You don’t know what to do, but ay, #girlsupportinggirls, right? So, you walk with her. She helps you along the way, also telling you tips on the game, explaining how everything works. Then, after about a minute, a whole 60 seconds, Corpse’s body is reported.

“Why Corpse? Such an innocent man with a beautiful voice.” Lud fake cries.

“Get over it,” Brooke says.

“It’s Brooke! Brooke’s an Impostor!” Lud shouts.

“What? No! I was with Y/N for a lot of this round.” Brooke defends herself, and oh fuck, who the fuck do you defend? You’ve just met both of them, one of them will possibly hate you forever.

“Y/N?” Sykkuno grabs your attention, snapping you out of your thinking.

“Yeah, she was. She wouldn’t have had time to kill Corpse. Where was the body?” Well, there you go, potentially ruining yours and Corpse’s blooming friendship. Sad Girl Hour, type beat.

“In Electrical,” Charlie says.

“Yeah, no way she would’ve had to time to kill him.”

Nobody’s voted out. Brooke hasn’t even told you who the second Impostor is so, you don’t know if you should stay with her or not.

As you and Brooke are walking around, or skipping as she sees it, and holding hands, Dream pops out of a vent. Well, there’s Imposter two.

“Woah! Dream, way to out yourself out.” You tease, throwing your head back and laughing.

“Please, you’ve been with Brooke the whole time. Don’t say anything.” Dream begs, making you and Brooke giggle.

“I won’t, I won’t.”

“Thank you,” He starts walking away from you guys, but not without finishing his sentence that you thought was already finished. “Cutie.” And there, finished.

Fucking finished! Tweedle-dee, tweedle dum! Whoopty-fucking-do! Fan-fucking-tastic! A-fucking-mazing!

And of course you’re blushing for the whole 80,000+ people watching to tease you about.

“Oh my God!” Brooke squeals. “What was that?!”

“I’ll explain later,”

•*•*•*•*•

“Y/N, how could you?” Corpse says, offended.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what to do.”

“She’s my enemy, Y/N. We were supposed to stick together. I told you some tips and tricks, explained how to be a badass Impostor, everything!” Wow, he’s a good fucking actor.

“I can very well do the same thing, bitch.” Brooke spits, all in a playful manner - you hope...

“Not better than me, bitch.” Corpse retorts, his astronaut getting closer.

•*•*•*•*•

Imposter.

With Corpse.

Great.

Your enemy. Or as he put it, “Enemy who he can maybe, and most likely, will become friends with in the near future.”

“Follow,” He says, and even though he’s your enemy, you do.

“I gotta do my own thing.”

“You don’t know how to do shit.” Corpse scoffs.

“Okay then, what the fuck are we gonna do?”

“Double kills, all the way, but only when we meet up with each other. So, right now, we’ll both go our own ways, but when we see each other again, we’ll walk to a pair and do a double kill if we can.” Corpse explains.

“Brooke told me not to do double kills often. It won’t help get through a game.”

Corpse snorts, “Brooke doesn’t know dog shit about this game.”

“Fine,” You groan, going along with it only because you don’t know dog shit about the game either.

As Corpse explained, you two do double kills every time you meet up. You two managed to get double kills where people rarely go - Shields, Comms, and the top of Cafeteria.

After killing Rae and Sykkuno, the game ends. You made sure to leave Brooke and Dream alive.

“Period, we did that!” You exclaim, everyone else groaning and complaining about how you two should never be an Impostor duo again. “But I still fucking hate you because you hate me!”

“Exactly!” Corpse retorts in the same tone as you.

•*•*•*•*•

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Taglist - comment or message me to be added!

* if your username is in bold, please reach out to me; you’re at risk of having your username removed that way i can clear space for other tags. *

@cherry-piee @littlered00 @sunnywinterdays @strang-ersclub @callmemaeve-y @powerpuffyn @kusuinko @where-thesundoesntshine @letglimmersayfuck @coryisagee @a-dot-dev @ifilosemyselfagain @tayloryorkscurls @lex-prplatmngrl @letsloveimagines @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @smiithys @mikayladoesntknow @clubfairy @mirahg @thurstyforholland @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @majasophieanna

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Tags - ignore::

#corpse husband scenario #corpse x y/n #corpse husband scenarios #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fic #corpse fanfic #corpse husband #corpse #corpse x reader #corpse fic #corpse supremacy #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband smau #corpse husband social media au #corpse x you #corpse x fem reader #corpsehusband #smau #social media au

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hetawrite · 5 years ago

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Eh, kinda short? Not really, but I finally finished that 3 part ask I had ages ago. I’m terrible. Thank you for the ask!

1P!Russia: Ivan Braginski

“Use this.” You nudge a pen to Russia. He pauses, his dry pen uselessly clutched in his hand. His eyes flicker around, trying to see if anyone else was witnessing this. Not many people at the office spoke with him, but you had always been kind. Helped people with work, always there to carry things. You even rushed to his help when he dropped stuff all over the floor. He mutters a thanks, picking it up. It glides smoothly, as expected of something owned by you; nothing like the old cheap pen he was using. You smile at him, tucking a strang of hair behind you ear.

“No problem. You can keep it if yo--”

“Anything you would like to share with the rest of us, s/o?” Ludwig, the team leader, crosses his arms over his chest, a stern expression across his face. You laugh nervously.

“Ah, no. I’m good, thanks.” You duck your head down as Ludwig stares for a moment longer just to nail in the point of his disapproval. You then glance at Ivan, checking to see if you still had his attention, and giggle softly to see you still did. Ivans shoulders untense as you both share a sheepish expression. The break comes up soon after a intense hour, and you have about 15 minutes to grab a snack, a drink, and to relieve yourself in the bathroom. You do the last one first, rushing off before popping into the breakroom. Ivans sat at one the round tables by the vendors as everyone else loiters around, leaning on counters, standing by the door and hovering near the coffee pot. You give your deskmates a smile and a wave before heading to the vendor, right towards Ivan. You see him glance at you so you start a conversation.

“Ludwig is full on today.” You laugh, showing no ill will toward a coworker but gosh, it was a tsunami of information in there.

“Ah, yes it was.” He smiles pleasantly at you, his expression showing his surprise. You type in a code into the vendor, tweeking your lip up. Ivan turns slightly in his chair to see what you’re getting. A granola. Healthy. He looks to his snack he brought in himself. He sees you moving from the edge of his vision and goes to see what you’re doing. He didn’t expect to get a frontal of ass. You had bent over to pull it out the machine, brushing hair behind your ear. Your blouse untucks at the back, and he gets a peak at the red thong you’re wearing. Ivan instantly faces the front, spluttering. He didn’t expect that. What a thing to wear at work. So... kinky. He looks at his food before peaking back, but you had stood back up straight and head to the coffee pot on the side. Ivan grabs his water bottle with maybe a bit too much pressure and takes big gulp before rising. You had found your self in a conversation as the pot boils. He packs up his stuff, not feeling very hungry anymore. He pops it in the fridge, right beside you.

“—so will you join?” Your coworker, a bubbly Italian that had transferred maybe half a year ago, asks. You hum in thought, dishing out your phone.

“What time?” You ask, eyes flicking between him and your calendar app. Ivan could see today empty, as well as the rest of the week. Ah, maybe you were trying to get out of it. The Italian says at 7, and you look over your shoulder to Ivan with a bright smile. “You going?”

“Going out to eat?”Ivan asks, and the Italian nods.

“Yes, to the Red House.” The Italian seems rigid, forcing a smile. Why is he suddenly so nervous?

“Yes, I would like to join you all!” He grins, then sees you make a pleasant hum. “The Red Th—“ He jolts up straight, smile dropping as he feels heat at his ears. “Red House!” He corrects himself. Both you and the Italian share a quizzical look before continuing on with your conversation, you pulling out a thermos from the cupboard.

“I’ll see you both at 7 then.” You smile.

#hetalia #1p hetalia #axis powers hetalia #gender neutral #hetaliaxreader #reader insert #1p russia #1p russia x reader #russia x reader #ivan braginski #ivan braginski x reader #aph russia #aph russia x reader #1p italy mention #human au

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juliusarchive · 5 years ago

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◊ ♫ ◊— look what the cat dragged in! that’s JULIUS ROWE and HE is an around 24-year-old CASUAL VISITOR to the store, but they’ve been in the neighborhood for 3 MONTHS. I think they are a FREELANCE COLUMNIST/CRITIC and I overheard them listening to SUBURBAN NIGHTS by SEAN NICHOLAS SAVAGE, and, I dunno man, it seemed pretty fitting. Like, call me shallow but I look at them and think of LUDWIG WILSDORFF and A SECONDHAND AGNÉS B. SUIT JACKET, IMPORTED FRENCH CIGARETTES, FADED STAMPS ON THE WRIST FROM LAST NIGHT’S CLUB, and READ RECEIPTS LEFT ON. (ooc info: sloth, she/her, est, 25)

bonjour y’all its sloth here! 🤠 i truly don’t know how..... this turned out so dumb long....but i don’t blame u if u skip straight to the wanted connections. basically, the rest can be summed up with: julius is an opinionated bitch who thinks he’s better than everyone ☺️ u can also peep his weheartit collection here 4 some ~vibes~!

(also i’m stealing some of this general format from other intros bc i’m too lazy to find my own!)

full name: Julius Rowe nicknames: Jules (doesn’t particularly like it, but will tolerate it from certain people and his mother), “Julian” (hate. hate hate hate. happens occasionally when someone misremembers/mishears his name, but even if its an honest mistake he WILL harbor resentment over this forever) date of birth: October 27th, 1996 (scorpio sun, virgo moon. yeesh!) age: 24 years old gender & pronouns: identifies as male, he/him sexuality: [sammie from The Circle voice] baby girl he’s gay hometown: Terre Haute, Indiana family: parents Frank Rowe and Annette Peterson (divorced), stepmother Luanne and two younger half-siblings hair: dark brown, he keeps it short with visits to an expensive hair salon in Chelsea where he treats himself once a month :) eyes: light green height: 6′0″ scars & markings: a Cindy Crawford-esque beauty mark right above his lip, and a scar between his thumb and forefinger on his left hand tattoos & piercings: no tattoos, one piercing in his right ear positive traits: astute, witty, confident, ambitious negative traits: judgmental, capricious, self-important, vain

(ok and now for some background!)

Born in Terre Haute, Indiana, but it’s almost impossible to guess where he’s from— Julius has made sure to erase all trace of his "Hoosier” origins and instead, adopted the appearance, mannerisms, attitude, etc. of someone who’s lived in New York for a long time (doesn’t even like admitting that he knows how to drive, but he can navigate the subway system like he was born with it hard-coded in his DNA). Unless you’re someone who knew Julius in freshman year at NYU (when hometowns were included next to faces and names on the dorm’s ‘Get To Know Your Neighbor’ corkboard, an indignity he never quite got over) or someone who’s met his dad (who comes to visit semi-regularly and is so undeniably Midwestern that there’s no way around it), then the assumption is probably that he’s a city native or, at the very least, hails from somewhere else on the East Coast.

Nondescript childhood! His parents divorced when he was pretty young (like 6 or 7), his mom flew the coop immediately, moved to Hawaii, and now she runs some kind of vaguely-branded “rest and relaxation” center where you’re supposed to get in touch with your “inner self” by drinking smoothies and doing a lot of yoga on the beach. idk! Julius thinks it’s all bullshit. Unclear how much his mother actually believes her own New Age crap, but whenever they talk on the phone she likes to give him advice that sounds like it was lifted from one of her pamphlets (“Remember Julius, openness is essential to your well-being, you’ll never achieve inner and outer harmony without it”)— which annoys him to no end. Their relationship is contentious and full of arguments precisely bc they’re so alike (flighty, hard to pin down, too aspirational for a place like Terre Haute, Indiana) while his relationship with his dad is steady and solid, precisely because they are nothing alike. Frank Rowe is a high school football coach & gym teacher; a very sweet man, but he’s straightforward and simple in all the ways Julius is not. He has two little girls with his second wife but still keeps in constant contact w/ his son and stays up to date on all his accomplishments, reading everything he publishes, and then talks about each piece— no matter how small and meaningless, especially to a man who only watches the news and Sunday night football— with such pride, you’d think Julius is writing for the New York Times (and maybe by Indiana standards, Brooklyn Mag is basically the same thing?)

Julius leveraged his very good grades in high school & his writing for a local gazette to get accepted into NYU’s Journalism program, after which he fled the state of Indiana on the first plane outta there and moved to New York. Soon he began to realize his true calling lay in critique; not only did he have a lot to say (he was always one of those outspoken, know-it-all kids who had to give his opinion on everything) but also a talent for saying it, in a way that people found witty, entertaining and most importantly: persuasive. He can sway someone to his point of view— or at least make them look twice at their own— with just a few clever paragraphs. Julius very much liked the idea that his opinions could be monetized, but he also saw their potential as a form of social currency: a means of attaching influence to his name and gaining access to exclusive social circles where words (and by extension, the person who wrote them) could hold real, recognized value. After all, maybe you couldn’t buy a Tom Ford suit with just influence, but you could shape public opinion with it. You could tell people what to think about a new movie, or stop them from buying a book. Or launch the career of an up-and-coming musician with a favorable review. This kind of power appealed to him greatly— much more than doing a job just to earn a paycheck. Already, in his short time living in New York, Julius had come to the conclusion that power, not money, was the be-all, end-all, and having power meant you were somebody, and being somebody meant that you mattered.

The trouble was, he already felt entitled to a bright future, so he thought it'd all click into place easily. And at first, it kinda did! You can get far on attitude and determination alone, which is exactly what Julius did, post-graduation, as he waltzed into the offices of various publications with his impressive college resume (including pieces already published in many of these same publications) and his lively personality, charmingly acerbic and effortlessly witty, fielding offers before he was hired as a full-time review columnist at the Village Voice. A revered, historical institution, one that he’d admired from a distance even when he was still just a boy in Indiana, this was a golden opportunity for someone just out of college— and for almost two years, Julius was carried by his own momentum, cultivating his new-on-the-scene intrigue amongst the downtown literary set, who brought his name up in conversations and pointed him out to newcomers at parties. His devastating but elegant book reviews were frequently cited; his less devastating, but no less elegant film reviews were also widely discussed, though older, more-established critics turned up their noses at his lack of in-depth film knowledge, dismissing his reviews as “trivial statements of personal taste”. But still, for two good years, Julius was well on his way to gaining exactly the kind of reputation he wanted, all while living his twenties to their fullest. He was a fixture at parties, staying out till dawn in bars and clubs around the Lower East Side, known by his friends to often disappear as soon as a handsome new face caught his eye (while not one for relationships, he was never at a shortage of partners, and often seemed to be “dating” at least two or three people at any given time). He spent his first few years after college enjoying a lifestyle of Wildean excess, perpetually broke yet spending entire paychecks on his wardrobe— all second-hand designer clothing, obsessively hunted in thrift stores and consignment shops— and other reckless expenses, not giving any thought to the possibility that maybe, y’know, some savings might be a good idea?

And then, two years after Julius’ arrival, the Village Voice shuttered its doors. He was left adrift, in search of not just a new job, but a new plan. He’d been counting on the prestige of the Voice to help him scale to the peaks of New York society like so many writers before him; now that this hope had been crushed like a cigarette under a boot heel, Julius was left with only the modest distinction he’d accrued during his brief time at the magazine and his wits, sharp as ever. What was important, he realized, was not to lose momentum; from charming, promising ingénue to failure was just a few, short steps, and he could not let that happen. At least, not willingly.

So he began to work freelance, completing reviews for several different publications; the likes of the Times and the New Yorker were still far out of his reach, but Vulture, NYMag, Time Out NY and others readily accepted his pieces. The reviews were well-received; his opinions still carried weight, and now they reached an even wider audience, considering the variety of sources they appeared in. Julius moved from Manhattan to Brooklyn, more precisely to a studio in Williamsburg, which at first seemed like a necessary heartbreak; it was fiscally responsible, leaving behind his old stomping grounds and moving across the bridge, where the rent was much more affordable than the three-bedroom student apartment he’d still been sharing with friends from NYU. Plus, living on your own was the true threshold of adulthood, wasn’t it? His new apartment turned out perfect in every way: close to the park, close to the train, in a location so trendy that you could eat at a different restaurant and drink at a different bar almost every night. Friends who were contemplating their own moves began to ask wistfully about rent prices in the neighborhood, or if he’d heard of anyone looking for a roommate. For a while, things again seemed to be going splendidly in Julius’ favor; he became the first to say that the closure of the Voice and his exodus from Manhattan were actually positive changes, things that had to happen in order for his life and career to continue their forward trajectory. In spite of everything, he seemed no worse for wear. He still had his talent, his ambition, and fully believed that the time would come— and soon— when he would really be recognized for them.

But inevitably, his terrible spending habits began catching up with him. Even when he thought he was being frugal, budgeting for groceries or choosing the subway over an Uber, there’d be a sudden, extravagant impulse buy— a pair of barely-used McQueen boots, dinner at a brand-new rooftop restaurant in Meatpacking— that undid all his attempted “saving”. He’d gotten comfortable living a certain type of lifestyle because he felt like he deserved it. Now, it was hard to deny himself these things; resisting temptation had never been his forte. But, after a few months of stretching the dwindling funds in his bank account, with barely enough leftover to eat if he also wanted to make rent, Julius had to acknowledge the problem. Rent was increasing month to month. His landlord had no sympathy for the plight of a penniless writer. And even an occasional check from Frank, well-meaning but not nearly enough to make a difference, wouldn’t keep him from getting priced out. So, innocently enough, Julius proposed to his then-boyfriend Drew (now ex-boyfriend; you can guess how the rest of this goes) that they move in together, without necessarily mentioning that he was only asking because otherwise he’d lose his apartment. He didn’t think it would be that big of a deal, anyway; he saw this entirely as a matter of convenience, not a major milestone in their relationship, which he was already treating with mild interest on the best of days and complete indifference on others. Drew, meanwhile, saw through this whole scheme right away, and he did think it was a big deal— the fact that Julius didn’t was a problem. What followed was a series of explosive arguments, after which they broke up, Julius moved out of Williamsburg and onto a friend’s couch in Crown Heights, where he spent a few weeks (okay, a month) brooding and licking his wounds, reeling much more from the loss of his apartment than from the break-up.

Now three months down the line, Julius has gotten back on his feet after this most recent upheaval of his life (its possibly his greatest skill, this cat-like ability to always land on his feet). He shares a new apartment in Crown Heights with friend & former NYU classmate Nora Medina, and has found the transition back to shared living surprisingly enjoyable (rooming with Nora is undoubtedly more tolerable than living with Drew would’ve ever been, so thank god for small miracles!). He still predominantly writes as a freelance arts and culture critic, now covering everything from film, TV, books, music, and even occasional restaurants; his Twitter enjoys a healthy following for his pithy, culture-savvy tweets which demonstrate his wit in the most bite-size way, giving his voice yet another platform on which to stand out. And though this may not be exactly where he’d imagined he’d be— two years ago, if asked to predict his future, he would’ve claimed to see himself with a penthouse overlooking Washington Square Park and a novel topping the New York Times Bestseller List— Julius’ confidence in himself has not been shaken. Never one to doubt his own genius, he doesn’t have to ask himself if he’s good enough; he knows he is. So the question remains, how to make the rest of the world see this?

(i know. that was DISGUSTINGLY long. i’m sorry :/// but now... some other bits & pieces about jules!)

headcanons:

One of those people who has to have a “signature” everything: a signature coffee order (three-shot Americano, iced or hot), a signature scent (a blend of bergamot, neroli oil, musk, and sandalwood; a personal fragrance from Le Labo— don’t ask how much it costs), smokes only a certain brand of cigarettes (Gauloises, very hard to find but he’s determined to map out all the bodegas in Brooklyn that carry them), favors a particular brand of Japanese-made leatherbound notebooks, etc. Julius really cultivates everything about himself, from his appearance, his scent, even his habits and vices.

His style is very clean, elegant, and minimalist: favors French menswear designers like Agnés B., A.P.C., Officine Generale, lots of trousers and crisp button-down shirts, or deceptively-simple T-shirts that cost $$$. Fusses about wrinkles a lot, taught himself to sew from Youtube videos because he buys all his clothing second-hand which means repairing tears and loose stitching all the time, and has really mastered the art of dressing like he has money when, surprise surprise, he has none!

In addition to earning a living off his writing, Julius has recently also started temping. Won’t admit it to most people— it’s undignified, filing papers and making copies and fetching lattes like some kind of office errand boy. So, so beneath him. But, rent’s gotta get paid one way or another. He’s already learned that the hard way :/

Notoriously fickle. Don’t count on Julius to fully commit to anything. He’ll say he’s going to a party and then change his mind at the last minute if a better party comes along... also an apt metaphor for how he’s treated every “relationship” he’s ever had. A failure at intimacy, if not at sex, dating tends to be disastrous for him. He’ll either be completely in love or completely over it, often flip-flopping between the two depending on his mood on a given day; much like a housecat, he can go from being needy and affectionate one minute to suddenly repulsed by your presence, bristling at any touch, staring from across the room with open hostility like ‘who are you and what the fuck are you doing in my house?’ But despite his own personal deficiencies, this doesn’t stop him from displacing the blame on the other person whenever a relationship falls apart— they were too clingy, or talked too much, or left a towel on the floor of his bathroom (probably by accident) which he fixated on like it was some kind of spiteful personal attack.

If you ask for his honest opinion, be warned that you’ll get it. Julius has no qualms about saying exactly what he thinks, whether it be to a complete stranger on the subway or a friend he’s known for years, and he doesn’t soften the blow; if anything, like in his reviews, he chooses his words with expert precision to make sure the point gets across crystal-clear and leaves nothing up to interpretation. If he thinks you missed the mark with your outfit, you’ll know. If the food at this French restaurant is completely undeserving of a Michelin star, he’ll say that, out loud, not caring if the owner is within earshot (or probably hoping that they are).

(FINALLY.... some wanted connections. if you’ve made it this far, i’m sorry (again) and please stay hydrated, its a marathon not a race!)

“SUBJECTS”: Since his Village Voice days and his move to Brooklyn, Julius’ focus has shifted to reviewing mostly homegrown talent, covering local repertory cinema, art exhibitions, music releases— and since we have plenty of artists/musicians and other creatives in this group, I would loooove some plots related to reviews he’s written about their work, and what kind of dynamic has come out of that (he's known to be snobby and hard to impress, much more likely to pick something apart for all its shortcomings rather than heap praise, but occasionally, there’s a rare, glowing review in the bunch— Julius likes to be the first to “discover” something that really shows promise). So... there’s potential here for new friends/acquaintances to have been made, or people who hate his guts based on whatever mean things he’s said about them and their work. i’m open for either :)))

BRECKENRIDGE & CO: For his most recent temp assignment, Julius has started at Breckenridge & Co, basically doing menial, mindless office work filling in for an assistant or secretary (though he probably spends a fair amount of time working on his own writing, slacking on whatever he’s actually supposed to be doing). His attitude towards the whole situation is very “I’m better than this, and wouldn’t be here if I had any other choice” which might rub some people the wrong way, as might his half-assed approach to actually doing the work.... but it could also be a fun plot to have a kindred spirit with whom he can commiserate, complaining about the banality of the job, discussing office gossip, talking shit while stealing snacks from the break-room, etc.

PARTY FRIENDS (TW: DRUGS): When it comes to nightlife, Julius hasn’t given up his wild youth, and isn’t planning to any time soon. He’s a familiar face in bars and nightclubs and warehouse raves around Brooklyn, particularly on the gay circuit but really, anywhere and everywhere; he’s an equal-opportunity hedonist, going wherever the fun and free drugs are. Some possible connections include other people who are just as willing to stay up all night as he is, drinking and dancing to 4 AM last call and beyond, stumbling home at dawn to take a shower and get dressed for work, then do it all over again the next night. Another possible connection would be a dealer, or someone who’s down to share a couple lines at the club, pop a pill to get the night started; Julius is too broke to have a real habit, or so goes his logic, but he does indulge his vices pretty liberally on nights out. Even in his NYU days, he always seemed to have coke on him, a trend that continues today. Where does he get it? How does he afford it? No one really knows!

NYU CLASSMATES/FRIENDS: If your character also attended the school, no matter what their major, we can brainstorm some kind of connection— and this is completely open-ended, because Julius has likely stayed in touch with former classmates but to varying degrees, and he makes enemies as easily as he makes friends, perhaps even more easily. He’s a good friend when he wants to be (read: when the person matters enough to him), but he’s also the type to hold onto an old resentment or former rivalry till his deathbed.... so there’s potential for both negative and positive connections here!

HOOK-UPS/EXES: Plenty of these.... not uncommon for a hook-up to briefly become something more, before just as quickly turning into another ex (see: all the above-mentioned issues), but overall Julius prefers one night stands and casual sex. He’s got every dating/hook-up app under the sun, seems to be sleeping with half his gay generation, and goes on dates often, but mostly just for the free dinners— insisting on his choice of restaurant and probably ordering the most expensive wine on the menu. Whenever feelings get involved, things are bound to get messy, so Julius has come to the conclusion that it’s easier to keep feelings out of the picture entirely— better to have uncomplicated fun instead.

ART, CULTURE & FASHION ENTHUSIASTS: For his work (but also to maintain his rep as someone with his finger on the pulse, seemingly aware of every single social event happening in New York), Julius frequents new exhibits, gallery openings, fashion shows, and usually seeks out other like-minded individuals to attend these with: people to whom he can address his snarky running commentary, all while downing glasses of free champagne and snacking on hors d'oeuvres. First Saturdays in New York means free museum entry; Julius has never misses out on a chance to visit the MOMA, or the Whit, or the Met, and it would be cute to do a plot with others who've made a tradition out of meeting up on the first Saturday of each month to do a museum day :)

There’s a ton of other potential connections I can probably think of but a) this intro has gotten so criminally long that I feel bad adding anything else sdkfljsdlf, but also b) connections usually work best when decided on individual character dynamics, so even if none of these particularly speak to you, or work for your character, please feel free 2 shoot me a message anyway and I’m sure we can figure something out! ok that’s all out of me. i need to atone for what i’ve done here :/

#fr.intro #about #i'm literally ashamed of this length i can't believe what's happened here.

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djemerald · 5 years ago

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My ‘sweetest’ Favorite 2019

もはやただのメモ！だけど、今年もやっぱりやっておこう。ということで、2019年のスウィートな音楽をずらりと。画像はアルバム・LP・EPのみの分をコレクションしてみました。去年書いた「過去最高のスピードで世界中の音楽が聴けるようになった」のは、今年も継続中。ただ、画面の中で自動的にレコメンドされるよりも、周りの友達に「これよかったよ〜」とか、「これ好きそう」とか教えてもらう方が、断然、うれしい。ジャンルは相変わらずいろいろだけど、ジャズ的な要素が増えた気がする。（dublab.jpの影響か、原雅明さんの影響かしら、どうかしら）あと、今年はアルバム通して聴く機会が多かった、というか、その方がフィットしてた。もともとCDを買っていたときの感覚に戻ったようで、なんだかしみじみしちゃう。そして、11月あたりからじんわりとミニマルハウス〜テクノに惹かれ中。シンプルがゆえに、好みを見つけるのがむずかしい、でも楽しい。新しい境地。 DJ MIXはほとんど聴かなかったなぁ。音楽の聴き方って、1年の間にこんなにも変わるものなのね。 dublab.jpでラジオ番組をはじめたことも大きいかな。ありがとう、グッドバイ2019年。 2020年は、審美眼を磨きつつ、軽快に。生身の肌で感じたい。 *アルファベット順です *今年リリース以外のものも多くあります *Vanessa Paradis、Marlene Dietrichは常時アイコンなのではぶきます＊ - My ‘sweetest’ Favorite 2019 - ▽▼▽ ALBUM / LP / EP ▽▼▽ AFK & Bludwork / Loyalty N Service [100% Silk] Akira Rabelais / CXVI [Boomkat Editions] Alexis Le-Tan & Jess present / Space Oddities [Permanent Vacation] Amazondotcom / Mirror River [SUBREAL] Ambien Baby / En Transito [FATi Records] Ana Roxanne / ~~~ [Leaving Records] Anna Homler ‎/ Deliquium In C [Präsens Editionen] Archie Shepp, Jasper Van't Hof ‎/ Mama Rose [SteepleChase] Bartosz Kruczynski, Poly Chain / Pulses [Into The Light Records] Basil Kirchin / I Start Counting [Trunk Records] Basil Kirchin / Primitive London [Trunk Records] Black Boboi / Agate [BINDIVIDUAL] C.Tappin / Ashes to Ashes [Melting Pot Music] Charlie Haden & Pat Metheny / Beyond The Missouri Sky [Verve Records] Chihei Hatakeyama(畠山地平) / Void XIX [White Paddy Mountain] Chocolate Lips / Chocolate Lips [Sony Music] Derric Gobourne Jr. / Supremacy [P-Vine Records] Deweekend / Deweekend [OutOfStock] Dome / Dome 2 [Editions Mego] Eberhard Weber / Encore [ECM Records] Eleventeen Eston / Delta Horizon [Growing Bin Records] Emahoy Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou / Ethiopiques, Vol. 21 [Buda Musique] Eric Serra ‎/ Le Grand Bleu (Bande Originale Du Film) [Virgin] G.S. Schray / First Appearance [Last Resort] Giovanni Guidi / Avec Le Temps [ECM Records] h hunt / Playing Piano for Dad [Tasty Morsels] Helena Deland ‎– Altogether Unaccompanied Vol. III [Luminelle Recordings] Holdie Gawn｜Micawber ‎/ Gleech Huis｜Parsec Telemetry [Sylphe] infinite bisous / Period [Tasty Morsels] Ion Ludwig / A Better Future To Long [Metereze] J!N /pink stm & wite ptl [Hizz] JAB / Erg Herbe [Shelter Press] Jacqueline Humbert & David Rosenboom / Daytime Viewing [Unseen Worlds] Jai Paul / Do You Love Her Now｜He [XL Recordings] jan and naomi / Fracture [cutting edge] Jan Jelinek / Loop-Finding-Jazz-Records [~scape] Jeff Majors / Yoka Boka (For Us All) [Invisible City Editions] Joao Gilberto / Amoroso [Warner Bros. Records] Joe Tossini and Friends / Lady of Mine [Joe Tossini Music] Joseph Shabason / Anne, EP [Western Vinyl] Juan Hidalgo / Rrose Sélavy [Discos Transgénero] Kali Malone / The Sacrificial Code [iDEAL Recordings] Khotin / Beautiful You [Ghostly International] Kit Sebastian / Mantra Moderne [Mr Bongo] Leech / Data Horde [Peak Oil] Leonardo Marques / Early Bird [180g x Disk Union] Leonore Boulanger / Practice Chanter [Le Saule] Les Yeux Orange / Ghost Dog [Good Plus] Lifted / 2 [PAN] Liv.e / ::hoopdreams:: [Not On Label] Lloyd Miller / A Lifetime In Oriental Jazz [Jazzman] Loren Connors / Evangeline [Recital] Loving / Lately In Another Time [Last Gang Records] Lucas Arruda / Onda Nova [Favorite Recordings] Lunz / Lunz 3 [Curious Music] Mary Lattimore / Hundreds Of Days [Ghostly International] Mega Bog / Dolphine [Paradise Of Bachelors] Meitei(冥丁) / Komachi [Métron Records] melodiesinfonie / A Journey to You [JAKARTA] Molinaro / What The Future Was [Apron Records] Nadia Reid / Preservation [Basin Rock] Neu Balance / In My Life, I've Loved Them All [Budget Cuts] Nia Andrews / No Place Is Safe [rings] Nico Rico / Primitive Thinking EP [Not On Label] Nina Keith / MARANASATI 19111 [Grind Select] Nitai Hershkovits / Lemon the Moon [AGATE / Inpartmaint] Normal Brain / Lady Maid [Vanity Records] Olsen / Dream Operator [100%Silk] Operating Theatre / Miss Mauger [Allchival] Pejzaż / Pejzaż Remiksy [The Very Polish Cut-Outs] Powder / Powder In Space [Beats In Space Records] Priori & RAMZi / Jumanjí [FATi Records] Profit Prison ‎/ Six Strange Passions [Avant!] RAMZi / Multiquest Niveau 1: Camouflé [FATi Records] Regularfantasy /Sunsets & Sublets [Total Stasis] Repetentes 2008 / Galaxia Fini [Superconscious Records] Repetentes 2008 / Gelo Gerônimo [Gop Tun] RIP Swirl / 9TEEN90 [Public Possession] Robert Minden Ensemble / Long Journey Home [Otter Bay Recordings] Robert Minden Ensemble / The Boy Who Wanted To Talk To Whales [Otter Bay Recordings] Robert Minden Ensemble / Whisper in My Ear [Otter Bay Recordings] Robert Wyatt / Shleep [Domino] Rupert Clervaux / After Masterpieces [Whities] Santilli / Surface [Into The Light Records] Sarah Davachi / Pale Bloom [W.25th] Sebastian Gandera / Le Raccourci [Efficient Space] Simone De Kunovich / Mondo Nuovo Vol. 1 [Superconscious Records] Sipprell / I Could Be Loved [Sipprell] Sonia Sanchez / Full Moon Of Sonia [VIA International Artists] Sonny Sharrock / Black Woman [Vortex Records] Soundwalk Collective / What We Leave Behind | Jean-Luc Godard Archives [mAtter] Sparrows / Berries [flau] St. Joseph / Player Nr. 1 EP [Dokutoku Records] Stephen Steinbrink ‎/ Utopia Teased [Western Vinyl/Melodic Records] Takayuki Shiraishi / Missing Link [Studio Mule] Tamaryn / Dreaming The Dark [Dero Arcade] Teebs / Anicca [Brainfeeder] Teiji Ito / Music For Maya [Tzadik] The Caretaker / An empty bliss beyond this World [History Always Favours The Winners] Tim Hecker / Anoyo [Kranky] Tujiko Noriko / Kuro(OST) [PAN] Unknown Mobile / Daucile Moon [Pacific Rhythm] Vanishing Twin / The Age of Immunology [Fire Records] Various ‎/ I Am The Center (Private Issue New Age Music In America, 1950-1990) [Light In The Attic] Various / Visible & Invisible Persons Distributed In Space [Numero Group] Various / Wys! V&a Ep [WYS! Recordings] Various / زمان يا سكر = Zamaan Ya Sukkar - Exotic Love Songs And Instrumentals From The Egyptian 60’s [Radio Martiko] Various Artists / 4 Down [Deek Recordings] Various Artists / Turkish Hamam House Disco [Arsivplak] Viola Klein / A Passport And A Visa Stamped By The Holy Ghost [Meakusma] Violet / Togetherness [Togetherness] Voices In Latin / Voices In Latin [Morgan] Wilson Tanner / II [Efficient Space] Yasuaki Shimizu / Music For Commercials [Crammed Discs] Yohuna / Mirroring [fear of missing out records] Yoshiharu Takeda / Aspiration [METANESOS Records] Yoshinori Hayashi / γ [Smalltown Supersound] Zenit / Straight Ahead [P-Vine Records] 元ちとせ / 元唄幽玄～元ちとせ奄美シマ唄REMIX～ (Remixes) [Au(g)tunes] 孔雀眼 JADE EYES / 渴望 [香港商黑市音樂股份有限公司台灣分公司] ∞σ / DG Hadi [Hizz] ⣎⡇ꉺლ༽இ•̛)ྀ◞ ༎ຶ ༽ৣৢ؞ৢ؞ؖ ꉺლ / ⣎⡇ꉺლ༽இ•̛)ྀ◞ ༎ຶ ༽ৣৢ؞ৢ؞ؖ ꉺლのʅ͡͡͡͡͡͡͡͡͡͡͡(ƟӨ)ʃ͡͡͡͡͡͡͡͡͡͡ ꐑ(ཀ ඊູ ఠీੂ೧ູ࿃ूੂ✧ළඕั࿃ूੂ࿃ूੂੂ࿃ूੂළඕั✧ı̴̴̡ ̡̡͡|̲̲̲͡ ̲̲̲͡͡π̲̲͡͡ ɵੂ≢࿃ूੂ೧ູఠీੂ ඊູཀ ꐑ(ʅ͡͡͡͡͡͡͡͡͡͡͡(ƟӨ)ʃ͡͡͡͡͡͡͡͡͡͡ [༈೧ູ≢)ꐑʅ(Ɵↂↂ. l̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡*̡̡ ̴̡ı̴̴̡ ̡̡͡| ̲̲͡ π̲̲͡͡.̸̸̨̨ ఠీੂ)༼ू༈೧ູ࿃ूੂ༽(ଳծູ l̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡*̡̡ ̴̡ı̴̴̡ ̡̡͡| ̲̲͡ π̲̲͡͡ ɵੂ≢)_̴ı ̡͌ ̲|̡̡̡ ̡ ̴̡ı̴̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡ꐑ*:･✧(ཽ๑ඕัළඕั)ꐑʅ(Ɵↂ๑)✧*:･ı̴̴̡ ̡̡͡| ̲̲͡ π̲̲͡͡.̸̸̨̨ ఠీੂ)༼ू༈೧ູʅ(ƟӨ)ʃ ꐑ(ཀ ඊູ ఠీੂ)༼ू༈೧ູ࿃ूੂ༽(ଳծູɵੂ≢ↂ. l̡̡̡ ̡͌l̡*̡̡ ̴̡.]

▽▼▽ SONG ▽▼▽ Akis / New Age Rising (Part VIII) [Into The Light Records] Anatolian Weapons / Ofiodaimon (Tolouse Low Trax vs Anatolian Weapons Remix) [Beats In Space Records] Anna Karina / Pierrot Le Fou-Jamais Je Ne T'Ai Dit Que Je T'Aimerai Toujours (い��までも愛するとは言わなかった) [Barclay] Baba Stiltz / Showtime [XL Recordings] Bartosz Kruczyński / Pastoral Sequences [Growing Bin Records] Beatrice Dillon / Workaround Two [PAN] Bee Gees / How Deep Is Your Love [RSO] Bell Biv DeVoe ‎/ Poison [MCA Records] Betonkust, Palmbomen II / Rejected Demo Tape [Dekmantel] Blue Gas / Shadows From Nowhere [Archeo / Best Record] Bobby Hutcherson / Tranquillity [Blue Note] Bohren & und Club of Gore - Karin [[PIAS] Recordings] Cécile McLorin Salvant / One Step Ahead [Mack Avenue Records] Cigarettes After Sex / Heavenly [Partisan Records] Cleaners From Venus / Corridor of Dreams [Man At The Off Licence] De Beren Gieren / Broensgebuzze 8.2 [Sdban Ultra] Dolphins Into The Future & Lieven Marten Moana / Lava (Long Version) [Edições Cn] DOS / Need U [Nerang Recordings] Dove, Le Makeup / Angel Diaries [Pure Voyage] Duval Timothy / DYE [NTS Radio] Eliza Dickson, Braxton Cook, Lauren Desberg / Gold [Tokyo Dawn Records] Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch / End Scene [130701 (FatCat Records)] Empress Of / When I’m With Him (Perfume Genius Cover) [Terrible Records] Fafá de Belém / Aconteceu Você [Som Livre] Gary Burton / Las Vegas Tango [Atlantic] Hanne Mjøen / Sounds Good To Me [Spinnin' Deep] Haruomi Hosono (細野晴臣) / 薔薇と野獣(New ver.) [Speedstar] Jay Som / Superbike [Lucky Number] John Cameron / Half-Forgotten Daydreams [KPM Music] John McLaughlin, Mahavishnu Orchestra / You Know, You Know [Columbia] Joni Mitchell / Shine [Hear Music] Karen Gwyer / Ian on Fire [Don't Be Afraid] Kelsey Lu / I’m Not In Love [Columbia] Klein Zage / Womanhood (DJ Python Remix) [Orphan Records] Kllo - Back To You [PLANCHA] Laurie Anderson, Tenzin Choegyal, Jesse Paris Smith / Lotus Born, No Need to Fear [Smithsonian Folkways] Laurie Spiegel / The Unquestioned Answer [Unseen Worlds] Leon Vynehall / I, Cavallo [Ninja Tune] Lucrecia Dalt / Tar (Jan Jelinek Remix) [Rvng Intl.] mabanua / Call on Me feat. Chara (Knxwledge Remix) [Lawson Entertainment] Madeline Kenney / Nick of Time [Not On Label] Marc Johnson, Eliane Elias / Swept Away [ECM Records] Marcella Bella / Nell'aria [CBS] Mary Lou Williams / It Ain’t Necessarily So [Jazzman] Matthew Halsall, The Gondwana Orchestra, Josephine Oniyama / Into Forever (feat. Josephine Oniyama) [Gondwana Records] Mehmet Aslan / Beat Two Chase [Highlife] Mehmet Aslan / Lobster Is Coincidence [Planisphere Music] Men I Trust / I Hope to Be Around [Men i Trust] Michael Andrews / I’m Not Following You [Everloving] millennium parade / Plankton [PERIMETRON] Murlo / Ferment (Yamaneko’s Flashback) [Coil Records] Noname / Self [Not On Label] Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan / Mustt Mustt (Massive Attack Remix) [‎Real World Records] O Terno / volta e meia [Risco] Octo Octa / I Need You [Technicolour] Ralph Tresvant / Sensitivity [MCA Records] Ratna Das / Rajuan Bulan [Rice Records] Roberto Musci / The Advent of Rose + Croix [Les Disques Victo] Ronald Langestraat / Lowdown [South of North] Salami Rose Joe Louis / Nostalgic Montage [Brainfeeder] Simon Hinter / Makros [Purveyor Underground] SKRS / Dub Shoulda Known [Ancient Monarchy] Smoke Trees / Man in the Moon [Urban Waves Records] Steve Hauschildt ‎/ Strands [Kranky] Tash Sultana / Salvation [Mom + Pop] Tei Shi / Even If It Hurts (feat. Blood Orange) [Downtown] The Golden Filter / Autonomy [4GN3S] Tyme./Tatsuya Yamada / Catch A Fire [astrollage] Unknown Mortal Orchestra / Hanoi 6 [Jagjaguwar] Will Saul / Room 9 [Aus Music] WONK / Sweeter, More Bitter [EPISTROPH] Yo La Tengo / Eight Candles [Verve Forecast] ギターウルフ / バッテラ惑星 [GuitarWolf Records] ちあきなおみ / 泣かせるぜ [TEICHIKU ENTERTAINMENT] んoon / Gum [Flake Sounds] 近田春夫 / 超冗談だから [Victor Entertainment] 佐藤千亜妃 / Lovin' You [EMI Records] 小沢健二 / 彗星 [Universal Music] 大貫妙子 / タンタンの冒険 [Dear Heart] 中原理恵 / ヒーローはあなた [CBS/Sony] 優河 / June [P-Vine Records] (Sandy) Alex G / So [Lucky Number] ▽▼▽ DJ / LIVE ▽▼▽ Sapphire Slows at SUPER DOMMUNE [28 Nov] Nia Andrews at Blue Note Tokyo [31 Oct] Julianna Barwick / Mary Lattimore / DJ Shhhhh at Shibuya WWW ［1 Jul］ Meakusma X dublab.jp at Shimokitazawa Cage LỒNG VÀ QUÁN [28 Apr] 東京楽所第12回定期公演「奉祝の雅楽」 at サントリーホール［2 Feb］ 12月25日のdublab.jpの番組《In Every Second Dream》内で、一部楽曲をON AIRしたのでそちらも是非◎ アーカイヴはこちらから↓

愛を込めてxxx DJ Emerald

#sweetest #2019

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littleredroseonthevalley · 7 years ago

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Red Rose - Chapter 16

Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch. 10 Ch. 11Ch. 12 Ch. 13 Ch. 14 Ch. 15 CH. 16

Summary: Riley manages the fallback from the hedgemaze fiasco, but she’s soon reminded that there’s no dull moment in Cordonia, as Tariq barges into her room and her and Drake have a moment.

Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Theodora sat at her dresser, brushing her thick, platinum blonde mane. Puberty has done her very well, with her skin as fair and spotless as it was at her birth, the hourglass figure and the harmonious breast also being God-given gifts. Her eyes were cold and cutting as a knife.

That night, they shone in determination.

“Promises are made, promises are broken.” She told to her own reflection. “Well, father, two can play at that game.”

She took off the brush from her hair and placed the richly-engraved brush back into the dresser drawer. She then rose from the chair and walked over to her closet. She took some clothes from the racks and threw them at a bag open at the door. She then proceeded to change her blue dress into a pair of pants, a shirt and a green parka.

All dressed, she threw the bag over her shoulders and sneaked off to her parents’ room. At that time of day, it was predictably empty. Behind a painting, lay a safe, and the code was 1918.

Inside the safe, there was cash, jewels, and most importantly, a hostage for her escape operation.

She refused to end up like her parents and siblings. She refused living that odious life. There it was a passport for another life, another herself.

Theodora threw everything inside the bag and sneaked her way into the house’s backdoor.

Half an hour later, safely on a train going away from the life she knew, she took a deep breath. Relief washed her lithe body.

Escape seemed at hand’s reach.

Applewood, Neokastron, Cordonia, Fall 2015

“Oh, God.” Riley bemoaned. “I’m so screwed.”

“This does hamper our initial plans, yes.” Charlotte noted. “We would stay in Cordonia until Theophany, and, when Liam did not pick you, we would have a good reason to leave. Riley would be killed off in some tragic accident a few months later, and that would be that.

“What we didn’t count on is the fact that you want to stay.”

“No matter, we are sticking with our original plan.” Riley said, determined. “Regardless of what I may be feeling about Liam or about anyone else, there is no way I can stay in Cordonia come February. Even if the impossible happens and Liam does choose me.”

“But there is a way.” Charlotte said, thoughtful. “Think about it: your story held uncontested up until now, even with the security services looking thoroughly into it. I doubt anyone except perhaps the MI-5 or the CIA could blow it now, much less some lowly yellow press, sketch of a reporter. And that’s only in the first few months, once the rage of your marriage passes, they stop snooping on the dirty secrets of your past and start snooping on the dirty secrets of your present.

“You have files of the marriage of Amara Grey and Brennan Flowers, the latter of whom died without any relatives to say you weren’t related to them, and the former is so deep in this as yourself, she won’t blab or else she’ll be packing to a federal prison.

“You planted school records in not one, not two, but in three different institutions, you swapped the yearbooks from the library in Cedar Cove, and all your supposed colleagues seem to remember a shy, quiet student at the corner they don’t quite remember the name of.

“You fed a fake Facebook for years, for Christ’s sakes!” Charlotte exasperated. “Honestly, if I didn’t know you, if I didn’t know you were lying, I would fucking think you were really Riley Flowers.”

Riley weighed what has been said by Charlotte, and she had to give her a point, by now there is no conceivable way for her to be discovered, not by the Cordonian court, and not if she didn’t screw up. However, one thing weighed heavily on her mind: “What about Karen and Ludwig?”

“Riley, my promise holds regardless of you deciding to be a queen or not. A week in February, and you’ll be free.” Charlotte said, in all seriousness. “We could tell everybody you were off to New York tying up some loose ends, we could even have Amara backing up these claims.”

Riley grumbled. “It still don’t change what happened today. Liam and I still had this huge fight, and we both said things we shouldn’t have, even if we did meant them.”

“Hey, sweetie, do you still have your journals?” Charlotte asked.

“My journals?” Riley said, confused.

“When you were younger, every time you got upset, you used to write your feelings away. Don’t you do that anymore?”

Then it dawned on her. Her notebooks. She used to write on them every day, as in to chase away the feelings of loneliness and fear from getting caught by the Rosenbergs. She remembered to take them to Cordonia, but she hadn’t touched a single one of them ever since she left New York.

Riley rummaged her trunk and pulled out six leather-bound notebooks. “Here they are. All the way back from the time I moved to New York.”

“Now, why don’t you give them to Liam as an apology gift?” Charlotte proposed.

“What?” Riley shouted. “Are you insane?!”

“Why not? I know you are paranoid enough not to put any names on those, and yet they are personal enough for him to see you’re making an effort to reach out. Besides, they’re the most genuine piece of yourself we can afford to give him right now.”

“That… That…” Riley stuttered while the wheels of her brain turned. “That might be actually a good idea.”

“I’m full of those today.” Charlotte said, smugly. “Now, come, we have to re-do your make-up and accessorize with this dress. Lord, for as much Bertrand is a stick-in-the-mud, he really has no sense of style!”

Riley giggled. “He really don’t. All that ‘country lord’ look of his isn’t working on his favor.”

New York City, Summer 1979

Melissa payed her cabby and got out of the car. Her meager belongings, mostly clothing, were packed into a small, black bag.

She had just arrived from the airport, she was at her parents’ home, in Georgia, and it certainly did not end her way. Not that she really blames them, she had thrown them a bomb.

She had met Kristijan during her internship at the United Nations. She was working under the Spanish ambassador, while Kristijan was a guard to Lord Talmai Bartholomaios, the Cordonian envoy.

They had met when he helped her when she got lost on her way to a meeting at the UN. He had been posted there for over three years and could probably walk through those halls in his sleep. He had a rare afternoon off, as Lord Bartholomaios was otherwise engaged, so, after her meeting, they went out for a coffee and became friends.

After some outings through the city, they started dating. It was a whirlwind romance, one she threw herself into head first.

However, Labor Day was just around the corner, and Lord Bartholomaios was due to return to Cordonia, and Kristijan is supposed to go with. He had told her his ‘commander’, the head of the security services he wasn’t allowed to disclose, was impressed with his work, and offered him a superior position, one that required him to move back to his homeland, permanently.

Facing the possibility of never seeing each other again, Kristijan proposed to Melissa last Friday night. She said she had to talk it over with her family first and promised him an answer the following Monday.

Today.

She used the card key Kristijan had given her and waltzed into the hotel. She went up to his floor and knocked on his door.

He answers her with a grin and a: “Melissa, you’re back!”

“Let’s do it, Kristijan!” She said, overwhelmed. “Let’s go to Cordonia! Let’s get married!”

She didn’t give him time to respond, as she kissed him passionately.

It might be against every ounce of reason in her body, but Melissa Walker was in love.

Applewood, Neokastron, Cordonia, Fall 2015

An hour later, Riley snuck off to Liam’s chambers. No-one saw her, as the servants were busy with preparations for the party downstairs, while the noblepeople were in their rooms dressing up.

She knocked three times, slow and steadily, waiting for a response. After a moment, a tortured ‘Enter!’ was heard from the other side of the heavy, engraved doors.

Prompted, she pushed the heavy doors weakly, as if she was afraid of it disturbing someone’s sleep. The room behind it looked the part, as its thick curtains were drawn, letting none of the sunset light into the room. The bed was also disheveled, as if none of the servants remembered to make it that morning.

Sat on a chair, with his back turned to the door, sat Liam. He had a glass on his hand and a tumbler on the coffee table in front of him, the brown color of the liquid suggested it was bourbon.

“If you came here to tell me I should be getting ready for dinner, pass along the message to my father I will be out shortly.” His tired voice rasped through the room.

“I did not come here to tell you that.” Riley said, in a meek tone. “Though, I can try to reach the King.”

“Riley!” The blond exclaimed, turning to see her. “What are you doing here?”

The woman sighed. “I came here to talk. To apologize, actually. I said some things I shouldn’t have, and I overreacted a little about… that.”

He gaped. “No, no, you were right, I shouldn’t have read that file. I just got scared and did something stupid, and when you caught me, I got scared again and just made everything worse. I should be the one to apologize.”

“Let’s agree we were both on the wrong, then.” She offered. “Regardless, I haven’t been doing a very good job of soothing your worries. You felt the need to read that file because I don’t talk about the past often, and while you’ve never asked, I also haven’t been going out of my way to tell you about it either.

“I don’t do that because it is painful for me to remember. Not the thing about my mother or my aunt and uncle, but for me it feels like every step of the way so far have been difficult somehow, and I just keep hoping for the next to be easier, to be painless. For me to be able to do that, I have to try and forget a little bit of the past and try to move forward, without looking back.

“When I moved to New York, I got into a little of a rough path and I found that writing my feelings helped sorting them out. So, I want you to keep these.” She handed him the six notebooks.

Liam inspected the objects. “What are these?”

“Those are my journals. Six years-worth of them, from the time I moved to New York to the day before I’ve met you. I haven’t written on them ever since I arrived, though, because every day seems more hectic then the one before, so…” She trailed off.

He placed them neatly on the coffee table, away from the tumbler and the glass of booze. “Are you sure you want me to read them?” He looked deep into her charcoal eyes.

“No, I’m not.” She said, honestly. “But I’m sure I want to give you, us, a sincere attempt, and if that’s what it takes, then so be it.”

Liam quickly crossed the distance between them and hugged her tightly. “Thank you, Riley.” He whispers into her hair. “Thank you for being so kind and patient with me, even when I don’t deserve it.”

He kissed her deeply, making her knees go weak.

Palace of the Brigades, Avlona, Cordonia, Summer 1984

Melissa had her finest dress on, and her little child was also dress impeccably. She lived at the Brigades for five years, now, but she wasn’t quite used to the idea of royalty, and the prospect of actually meeting one made her giggly.

She walked over to some French doors, where Bastien, one of her husband’s apprentices, waited stoically for her.

“Good afternoon, Bastien.” She greeted, amicably. More than once the young man has had a meal with them at their apartment on the service lodge of the palace, and both Kristijan and Melissa had a soft spot for the boy.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” He smiled at her. “Your Majesty waits for you.”

“Lead the way!”

He nodded and opened the door for her. It leads into a small drawing room, in which the Queen have had served some tea and biscuits.

The young royal rose to her feet, with some difficulty, taking upon account she was heavily pregnant, and greeted her. “Madam Walker, I am very glad you took upon my invitation this afternoon.”

Melissa’s face probably betrayed the frantic thoughts running through her head. “Y-Your Majesty!” She bowed hastily. “It is I who is glad about your invitation!”

She laughed softly. “Please, call me Carmela. We are alone, and I was hoping we could have a more relaxed conversation.”

“Of course, ma’am. I mean, Carmela.” It was rather strange calling a girl younger than herself ‘ma’am’, after all.

“Great!” She smiled. “Is this little Drake I hear so much about?” The blue-blooded approached the carriage, where the boy slept soundly. “How old is he again?”

“Six months.” The woman answered, with a soft smile. “He was born in late Fall last year.”

“How adorable.” She gushed. “Pardon me, I have the baby fever. I must run poor Bastien haggard with all my questions about all the mothers at the palace.”

Melissa giggled. “I remember how I was with Drake. I spent the day looking through baby clothes catalogs and pregnancy books. When are you due?”

“The doctors say All-Hallows, but I think this one’s going to be an early bird.” She patted her own protuberant stomach fondly. “I’m thinking of naming him Liam if it’s a boy.”

The other did a small double-take at the revelation. “It is different in Cordonia.”

“It is unusual in Italy as well.” She dismissed, with a faint smile. “But I’m a fan of Liam Clancy. Constantine’s going to take some convincing, though.”

“I thought the King wanted something more traditional.”

Carmela shrugged. “Some Greek mouthful, yes.” She poured two cups of tea and handed one to Melissa. “Speaking of things unusual, I never expected to see a surname like Kristijan’s in Cordonia. Walker,” She tested on her tongue, with her foreign accent. “It’s English, right?”

“It’s actually my name.” Melissa pointed out. “Kristijan said his surname carried a stigma in Cordonia, and he wanted to change it when we married.”

“Oh, my! There’s so much I know not.” Carmela commented. “Was it Slavic? I’ve noticed our Serbian subjects are very hostile to our rule. It would make sense for Kristijan to change it when he joined our employment.”

The other woman shook her head. “No, it was Greek. Bunas, after the river.”

“No, it doesn’t ring any bells.” She commented.

“How about the social season, ma’am?” She tried to change the subject. “You’ll probably be bed-ridden by then.”

“Don’t tell me.” She grimaced. “It would be my first one as Queen. Fortunately, Constantine is able to attend alone the events elsewhere. What worries me are the ceremonies held here at the Brigades. Which reminds me, Melissa?”

“Yes?” The woman responded.

“You were a diplomat once, right? Before marrying?”

She laughed uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t say that. I worked at an embassy, and I have a degree in International Relations.”

“But you do understand about ceremonials?”

“I suppose? Somewhat, at least.” Melissa said.

Carmela smiled broadly. “Great! You see, I was looking for a secretary, to help me with the preparations for the season. I would do it myself, but with the pregnancy and everything…” She trailed off.

The woman made a double-take. “Are you sure you want me?”

“Of course. You know the ropes, and I know I can trust you. It is more I can say about any other woman in this house.” The monarch answered. “And you will be paid handsomely for the job.”

Melissa weighs her options. As the wife of Kristijan, she was not allowed to take employment outside the palace and caring for Drake full time get really boring fast. Besides, with the money, they could save for retirement, which came early for royal bodyguards.

“Okay. I’m in.” The eldest smiled.

Applewood, Neokastron, Cordonia, Fall 2015

Riley arrived at dinner rigorously on time, perfectly composed and her head held high. Liam wasn’t with her, staying behind as in not to arise suspicion, but aside from him, all of the guests at the chateau were already in attendance.

Servants bustle about, keeping the tables freshly stocked with foods and drinks. Over a couple of tables, a few girls conversed in rushed tones.

“The King and the Queen seemed quite taken with you today, Lady Madeleine.” Some random suitor commented with said blonde.

She smirked. “They respect my opinions. And I believe we have a lot in common. I hope I’ll have the support and respect of all the ladies of the court if I’m chosen.”

The tone of her ‘if’ portrayed no doubt.

Penelope sat next to the pair and whispered back: “To tell you the truth, I think Lady Riley may be the one to be chosen, and I think she would be a wonderful queen.”

As much as Penelope’s heart was in the right place, that certainly wasn’t the moment to make that kind of statement. Much less to Madeleine, who frowned quite pronouncedly: “I suppose you are entitled to have your own opinion.” She said.

Charlotte waved at her, as if they were just meeting. Riley started walking over to her, also keeping up the appearances, when she crossed paths with Tariq.

“Good evening, Tariq.” She greeted, politely.

“Lady Riley.” He nodded, acknowledging. “It is always a pleasure seeing you.”

“A rare one, it seems. How have you been?” She engaged in conversation. Bertrand would be proud.

He laughed. “Indeed. I’ve been as splendid as you look, my dear.”

“You seem flirty tonight.” She pointed out.

“It comes from the deepest recesses of my being.” He winked. “This event can hardly bear a star as bright as yours.”

Riley thought it to be strange behavior from the young nobleman but preferred not to probe. She has enemies enough, no need going out and making more. “Thank you, Tariq. You flatter me.”

“It feels me with joy to hear you say that.” He beamed. “You know, I have to tell you, after talking to most of the other ladies here, I find myself having nurtured such an… appreciation for you. You are like a breath of New York fresh air.”

Knowing those same girls he speaks of, Riley can only agree to the sentiment, even if the phrasing is hardly ideal. “I don’t think anyone says that.”

“The other suitors are absolutely boring.” He admonished. “One talks only about her dogs, another merely sulks to the corners. And don’t get me started on Olivia.”

“Some of the other girls have their charms.” Riley weighed.

Tariq scoffed. “If they do, I have yet to find them. They have good breeding, wealth and manners, but they’re absolutely dull. How disappointing.”

There it was. Tariq the Plutocrat. Riley was starting to worry he had banged his head at some table corner.

He, however, wasn’t done: “Whereas with you, Lady Riley, you grow more interesting every time we speak. I must, however, take my leave. May you have a fantastic evening.”

Tariq bows and left, while Maxwell approaches.

“There’s our little social star!” He greets, with an unusual dose of excitement. “Is that Tariq you were talking to?”

“Yeah, and it was weird.” She commented, while looking at the place the young middle-eastern left empty.

“Strange?” Maxwell inquired, confused. “How so?”

“He was so amicable! And before today, we barely talked.”

The man tutted. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Now, come, Bertrand and I got a table this way.”

Palace of the Brigades, Avlona, Cordonia, Spring 1993

Melissa was sitting on the kitchen table. The dinner was served, and the children already ate. Drake and Savannah were at the conjoined living room, having their TV time.

Kristijan was late for dinner, again. Melissa knew his patrol schedule was messy, but he had said he would be home that evening. She tapped her fingers against the table, anger and hungry, as she had been kind enough to wait for him.

She sighed angrily and walked over to the living room. “Kids,” She told them while turning off the TV. “It’s bed time.”

“But, mommy!” Little Savannah complains. “Daddy isn’t here yet!”

The woman sighed once more. Her husband gave her nothing but trouble. “I know, darling. But it’s late, it’s way past the time for little girls to be in bed.”

She pouted. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Grown-Up.” She smiled at her daughter’s antics. “Tell you what, go to bed now and I’ll have daddy giving you a good-night kiss when he gets here, ‘kay?”

“’Kay…” Savannah caved and walked over to the bedroom she shared with his older brother.

“Drake?” The woman called.

“Yeah?” He grumbled. Sometimes, she swore that boy was born sour.

“Watch your sister, okay? I’ll go over to the kitchens, but I’ll be right back.”

He looked at her warily but nodded his head. She kissed his hair and went out the front door.

Closing and locking her apartment’s door for security, she started walking down the hall. However, instead of going down to the kitchens like she said she would, Melissa walked over to the bachelors’ wing and knocked on an apartment’s door.

A man came out. “Mrs. Walker?” He asks, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“Bastien, you’re on the night shift tonight, aren’t you?” She inquired, feverishly.

“Yeah, I was going out right now.” He said. “Why? Do you need anything?”

“Actually, I do.” She smirked, with a hint of crazy in her eyes. “I need you to take me to the Queen’s chambers. It’s where you’re supposed to switch guard, isn’t it?”

He looked at the woman he so deeply respected and cared for. Bastien was sure that if she was asking such a thing, she had a legitimate reason for it, no matter how unorthodox. “Follow me.” He said and led the way.

On a hurried place, they made their way through the labyrinthine, ghastly hallways of the Brigades at nighttime. When they arrived at the heavy, mahogany doors of the quarters, Melissa eyed Bastien for him to make himself scarce.

The look he gave in response said that he would not hinder her, but he sure wasn’t leaving.

It was his own peril. Taken by murderous rage, she opened the door and walked right into the room. Unfortunately for Melissa, she saw exactly what she was looking for.

She picked up a shirt laid on the ground and placed on her nose. She knew that aftershave anywhere. She let it fall to her feet as she walks over to the bed. The couple laying there was fast asleep.

Melissa sat on a chair by the dresser and turned on the lamp. She took a good look at the face of the man resting on there. Tan skin, shaved neatly, but with a defined, rugged, hairy chest.

She picked up a heel on the floor and admired it. A dark blue, satin Zanotti, with silver fastenings. A beautiful shoe for a beautiful woman. Melissa twirled it by the heel, and then threw at the man.

He woke up, of course, startled. His eyes focused on her: “Melissa! What are you doing here?”

Her eyes glinted with the light of the lamp. “Why, Kristijan, you’re late for dinner. I came looking for you.”

The woman woke up, dizzy, and looked over at Melissa. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Regina, did I wake you up?” She asks, sickly sweet. “Now you can join us.”

“I would ever.” She admonished. “Have some respect!”

Melissa clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Oh, Regina, I find it terribly funny how you Cordonians think everybody owe you respect. When will you learn respect is earned?”

She leaned over the bed, over Kristijan, and whispered to her: “Don’t try evoking any Laws of Exception on me. I’m not a Cordonian citizen. You can’t throw me on jail.”

The Queen fumed but did not say a thing. Kristijan, however, pulled her away and stood up. He was as naked as the day he was born, his intimacy hanging limp by his leg.

He tugged on her arm, and whispered menacingly: “Let’s go, Melissa.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” She wriggled her arm away, and then lowered her sight to his genitalia. “But I think you should change first. I know you clearly don’t really care who see your bits, but some people may.”

She stood up and started to leave. Kristijan came after her, thankfully using some underwear, shouting: “Melissa! Melissa, wait!”

“What?!” She turned and barked.

“Just hear me out, okay?!” He said, frozen in place by her glare.

“What are going to say, huh?! It wasn’t what it looked like?!” She shouted, the sound bounced from the walls and empty rooms.

He sighed. “It is what it looked like. Or not, I don’t know. I did sleep with the Queen, I have been sleeping with her for some time, too. But what did you want me to do? She’s the Queen, for Christ’s sake!”

“I wanted you to keep it in your pants. I expected you to keep your vows. I expected you to, at least, tell me what was going on.” She said, cold.

He scoffed. “And then what? You think I’d still have a job here? A place to live?”

“We would find a way, Kristijan!” She shouted, frustrated. “I’m not an invalid!”

He sighed one more time. “What now?”

“I’m going back to the US.” She said, seriously. “I’m taking the kids. There’s nothing for us here anymore.”

With that, Melissa left, and Kristijan did not try to stop her.

Applewood, Neokastron, Cordonia, Fall 2015

Riley followed Maxwell to the table and sat down between him and Charlotte, who accompanied them on that meal.

Soon enough, the sound of glass clinking fell through the al-fresco dining area. Everyone then turns to the source of the noise, which was the figure of Prince Liam, standing up next to Constantine and Regina.

“If I may have everyone’s attention, I’d like to say a few words before we serve the main course.” The blond announced. “First, I would like to thank everyone for joining us out here at the country estate. I had the honor and privilege of having you in my court, and I could not ask for better company.

“As I step into my father’s place in the next few weeks, I can only hope I am half the man he was for Cordonia.”

“Long live Prince Liam!” Maxwell pulls the chant, followed by claps and cheers by all attendees.

“Thank you all.” Liam bowed. “When we next meet like this, it will be on the next event of the season, the traditional New Year’s party hosted by the illustrious House Beaumont.”

The crowd applauds, and Maxwell hollered: “Woo-hoo!” He then turns to Riley. “I can’t wait to show you the manor.”

“Maxwell, aren’t we a little strapped for cash right now?” She asks, concerned. “Can we afford hosting a party this big right now?”

He grimaced. “I don’t think we have a choice. Like Liam said, it’s tradition. We can’t back out now.”

“Yes. If we back out, we might as well announce to the whole world we are officially ruined!” Bertrand barked.

“Bertrand has a point.” Charlotte pointed out. “The manor house is big and opulent enough, we’ll be fine as long as we keep them busy. If the food is a little lacking, I bet no-one will notice.”

As the applause dies out, Liam continues: “The Beaumonts will surely give us another legendary night to remember. Until then, I thank you once again and wish you a good night.”

Palace of the Brigades, Avlona, Cordonia, Spring 1993

The Walker family, the personnel of the palace division of the Security Services and the Royal Family was congregated at the chapel within the Brigade Hill, honoring a sacrifice of one of their own.

As per request, there would be no speeches, no talking, no medals. There would only be a prayer conducted by the chaplain, which was over. The people were walking on a line, saying their condolences to the widow, standing by the casket.

After a big group of maids, security guards and other relatives payed their respects, there came the turn of the Royal Family. The youngest boy, Liam, was spared from the ceremony, thankfully.

Melissa couldn’t spare Drake of many uncomfortable comparisons he was subject to as the ‘common’ friend of one of the Princes, but the absence of a parent was a circumstance she really hadn’t considered to face up to a few weeks before.

Then, when Kristijan’s sins had come to light, Melissa was ready for filing divorce. She had bought the plane tickets, prepared the kids’ passports, wired her savings, called some relatives. And now she was a widow.

The first one to offer his sentiments was Prince Leo. The teenaged aristocrat couldn’t be bothered to play the part appropriately, appearing bored throughout the ceremony. Though, it was fair to say he would have rather for Kristijan to have failed on his mission.

Following him, there was Constantine. He hugged her softly, and said, on a low tone: “Your husband died a hero. The Royal Family has an eternal debt to you, ma’am.”

Then, it was the face she dreaded the most. Regina. Her dead husband’s lover. The woman he died to protect. There was something salacious, belonging to a cheap paperback novel, having such an encounter.

She was wearing a black, embroidered silk dress, her head covered with a shawl and a Spanish mother-of-pearl clasp. As she often does, Regina was asserting her power with subtlety.

The royal approached her and whispered softly to her ear. “I want to see you out of this country by nightfall. Take your snotty twerps with you.”

“Say, Regina, doesn’t your husband find most strange for you to be all alone with Kristijan on the gardens? At the middle of the night?” She asks, with a smirk.

“Are you really threatening me?” She barked.

“Not at all, Your Majesty. I am merely showing you I am not without my own bite.” She said, neutral. “But rest assured, by this time tomorrow, I’ll be far away from your sight.”

The Queen huffs and backs off her.

Applewood, Neokastron, Cordonia, Fall 2015

Riley walked down the hallway leading to her chambers. She was alone, as Bertrand and Maxwell were busy arranging their suitcases, and Charlotte said she would retire early.

Speaking of the Beaumonts, they said they would be spending their Christmas on a ski lodge in Switzerland. Given the price of the room and the fact the holiday was upon them, Bertrand made it clear she wasn’t invited. Charlotte said she could spend the week in Italy with her, but Riley knew how it was at her place, and she had her fill of aristocratic parties.

She reached her door and opened it. “Charlotte!” She called. “I’m here.”

The room was empty. Shrugging, Riley tried to lock the door, but the lock seemed stuck. As it was very late, the two women would have to make do with a chair against the handle.

Deciding to place it only after Charlotte’s return, Riley started taking off her clothing and her bodice. Butt-naked, she put on a silk robe and started walking over to the dresser to remove her make-up.

It was when she heard the door open and shut. “Is it you?” She called, distracted.

“It is I, love, and good Lord! Disrobing in my room! What a forward gesture. I like it.”

It wasn’t Charlotte’s voice. Riley turned to the intruder and shouted: “Tariq! What the Hell are you doing here?!”

“Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not upset. I’m just surprised. I suspected, but I’ve never thought it would happen so soon.” He said, approaching her.

She tried to cover herself better, while taking a step back. “Tariq, I think there’s something wrong here…”

He takes her hand and places over his heart. “No, I must say this! Your feelings are most ardently returned! You’ve enchanted me just as you enchant everybody you come across, and now I know you feel the same way about me.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “About that…”

Before she can say anything else, he lowers his head and take her mouth into a kiss.

Riley starts trying to push him away, when the door is pushed open and a figure launch itself into Tariq.

“Get away from her!” The deep voice commands, pining the middle-eastern man away from her by the shoulder.

“Unhand me!” Tariq spats back. “How dare you enter my room without my permission!”

“He’s one to say!” Riley sneered to herself, as Tariq punches the figure squarely on the face. Just then she is able to take a good look to the man, who reveals himself to be Drake.

The commoner reels back for a split second and then tackles the nobleman to the ground. They grapple intensely for a second until they pull apart.

“Who the Hell do you think you are busting into my room?!” Tariq shouts, angry.

“This is Riley’s room!” Drake spats back. “And I heard her screaming, I think she wanted the interruption.”

“Oh, God!” She ran her hand through her hair. “Tariq, someone pulled a prank on you. I’m not, in any way, interested in you, I’m sorry.”

He looked at her with puppy eyes. “So, this isn’t going to be the bold, romantic beginning to our love story?”

“No.” She doubled the ‘o’, shaking her head.

He sighed and tried to gather whatever little dignity he had. “I see. Let me deeply apologize here. I’m so sorry for this transgression. I was incredibly wrong. Now, before I can humiliate myself any further, let me take my leave. Good night, Lady Riley. Whomever has your heart, he is indeed a lucky man.”

As the man leaves, Drake slams the door shut behind him.

Riley threw herself on the bed, covering her face with her hands. “Before I bemoan my luck, thanks, Drake. If you hadn’t intervened, I would have kicked him in the nuts and it everything would be worse.”

“Aw, shucks, Flowers, don’t go soft on me now.” He sideline-smirked at her. “I’ll always be here for you. Because of Liam, of course.”

She sat up straight and looked at him. “What Liam got to do with anything?”

“Liam would never forgive me if something… bad… happened to you.” He sighed and withered under her inquisitive look. “And I wouldn’t forgive myself, either.”

She smirked, defiantly, at him, while he averts his eyes, embarrassed.

He clears his throat. “Anyways, you can see why it looked bad. I heard a scream and I saw you half-naked, with Tariq all over you…” He trailed off. “Are you okay, though.”

“I’m fine.” She said, earnestly.

“Well, I should get out of here before we really cause a scandal.” He said, and turned to leave when he winced in pain, clutching at his side.

“You’re hurt.” She pointed out.

He dismissed it with a: “Nothing some whiskey won’t heal.”

“Come on, big boy, I’ve got some ice.” She said, motioning for him to sit on the bed.

He smirked. “You trying to get me to take my shirt off, Flowers?”

“I am succeeding.” She smirked at him. “Chop-chop, I don’t have all night.”

“You have a real bossy side to you.” He murmurs while obeying her order.

“Take it to someone who cares.” She rolled her eyes, picked up a handkerchief and some ice, and started evaluating the bruise.

“So, doc, do you see anything alarming?” He asks, ironic.

“Other than the fact you bruise like a peach, it seems you’ll be okay.” She said, snarky.

He scoffed. “Tariq hits harder than you’d think.”

Riley laughed, ironically, while standing up. “I can’t believe you lost a fight to Tariq!”

“I didn’t say I lost! I never said that!” He defended, desperately. “I definitively won, I’m just saying he got in some good hits and I didn’t expect that from a palace brat.”

“Whatever floats your boat.” She smirked.

From Drake’s point of view, the moonlight coming from her window framed her profile. Her petite, princess-like nose and superior smirk were features he was sure he was supposed to despise, but it seemed right on her, like if it was supposed to be so.

Drake runs his fingers through his hair. “You can be so…” He started, but then lost his nerve. “Never mind. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be treating my wounds?”

“Before I ice your wounds, wouldn’t you like something to drink?” She offered. “Lest of all you bitch when I put it on your rib.”

“Hit me.”

She walked over to the bar and poured two glasses of whiskey on the rocks. Handing him one of them, she says: “I wouldn’t make you drink alone.”

“Heh. Thanks.” He smirks.

Drake downs his glass as Riley presses the ice against his body. “Hey! It hurts!” He complains.

“Grow a pair!” She bit back but pressed more gently the ice.

Drake turns and catches her eye. After a long second, he lowers his gaze. “Thanks.” He breathed out and paused. “I know I don’t act very grateful for anything most of the time, but I do… care about you.”

“Mighty way to show it.” She complains. “Most of the time you act like you hate me.”

“I do not.” He defended.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Drake.”

“Okay, I do, don’t I?” He sighed. “It’s not personal. It’s just… easier that way.”

“Easier? For whom?” She questions while keeping up with the ministrations.

“You’re here for Prince Liam. All of the suitors are. And, well, so is the entire court. All the nobles, all the servants, even. Everything and everyone in this place exists to orbit around Liam. You could almost hate him for it, if he weren’t so damn likeable. It’s dangerous for people like you and me to forget about that.” He grumbled the last part.

“Where are you getting at, Drake?”

“Hell, Flowers. Don’t make me say it.” He whispers and gulps down his drink. “If we’d met somewhere else, anywhere else. At a club in New York, or in the airport, or at a party… If you hadn’t been our waitress that night, and I hadn’t been sitting next to Liam… Do you think it would be different?”

“Drake, Drake, Drake.” A woman’s voice came from the door. The two of them broke apart, and faced the source of the sound, which was Charlotte’s frame. “Don’t you ever tire of being a whiny, charity case? Because I do, constantly.” She sneered.

“Fuck you, Rosenberg.” He barked at her.

“Drakey-poo is mad? How sad!” She ironized. “Let me answer this one for Little Miss Flowers over here. It wouldn’t be any different. You know why? Because you’ll always be the same, you’ll always look over your shoulder, worried that Liam will take your happiness away from you, that they will move on to greener pastures. And so, you make their lives a living Hell, so when they finally leave, you can act like if you had known all along.”

He lunged at her, and it seemed like he was going to hit her, but he lowered his hand and said on a dangerous tone: “You are just some left-over, bitter, society wife. Look yourself in the mirror before preaching about my life.”

With that, he left the bedroom.

Charlotte then shuts the door. Riley runs over to her. “God gracious, Charlotte! Where were you?”

“Constantine called me over to his study. He was trying to negotiate part of their debt.” She said, dismissive. “What is more interesting is why Walker was here in the first place.”

Riley then explained everything to Charlotte about what had happened that night. The blonde walks over to the door to check it. “Riley, I locked the door on my way out.”

“But it was open when I arrived!” She said, nervously.

“Check the trunk!” The blonde commanded.

It was still locked, with no signs of forced entry. “It seems our secret is safe, at least.”

Charlotte was fretful, still. “Regardless, there’s blood in the water. Come, we’re leaving now.”

The two girls packed everything on the room quickly, and on the silence of the night, they fled Applewood.

Atlanta, Georgia, Summer 2010

A middle-aged man climbed slowly the stairs. He was struggling with the steps, having been hindered with a crutch. Unfortunately for him, the building had no elevators and his destination was on the fifth floor.

It was a very important meeting, which is why he had come from so far away, and the delicacy of the matter had him prescinding of his assistant.

When he finally reached the floor, he stopped for a moment, to catch his breath and to dispel his flustering. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, as Georgia was much warmer than he had expected. Then, he continued his walk and knocked on an apartment door.

A woman answers. “Hello. How may I help you?”

He cleared his throat and asks: “Are you Melissa Walker?”

Her face paled. “Who are you?”

“I am Ludwig von Rosenberg.“ He said, solemn. “I wish to speak about your husband.”

Red Rose - Masterlist

<< Last Chapter Next Chapter (TBR) >>

Taglist: @boneandfur; @mfackenthal

#red rose #the royal romance

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aliens-and-shiz · 7 years ago

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Part 36: plot

More here: @aliens-and-shiz

Falhaven walked into Thane’s office, wondering what his ex wife had thought up now. One thing he couldn’t deny, no matter his feelings toward her, she was a tatical and strategical genius.

“What is it Linda?”

“I have an idea. It may be a stupid idea, and the one it would affect is most definitely pulling your strings, but you’re still the only one I can trust.”

“Whatever it is, no. I’m not risking our daughter’s life because you want Ricardo or Ludwig or whatever he wants to be called dead.”

“You havent changed a bit. How’s the new wife? Liking the sloppy seconds?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m not gonna kill him. He is a genius, and we need him, despite pulling the worlds strings. No, my idea is one that would not affect the world, only a bit of the power he holds.”

Falhaven perked up at that. He was the President of the United States, leader of two continents, and the most powerful person in the solar system, with the exception of Thane and Sanchez, and Thane only because she controlled the armies of Humanity.

“Go on…”

“Well, if he were to die, this entire space station would cease to run, and likely the antimatter reactors on it would detonate. It seems that they are somehow connected to him alone. Also, the FTL capabilities that the Torus has is connected to his genetic code.”

“And? Why is that a problem? As long as he doesn’t die everything should be fine.”

“Well, we will only be able to attack places he deems acceptable! He would be running the whole operation of getting our people back!”

“Ah… well, what’s your plan?”

“Do you still have the scaffolds stored in the Amazon?”

“Oh… Thane, you don’t have the funding. You can’t.”

“Oh yes I can. I have funding for 3 Hellfire class Dreadnoughts. Guess how much one of those costs?”

He started to understand. “…about as much as the Torus!? But, how are you going to show the other two Hellfire Dreadnaughts?”

“Simple. Make it 2 Dreadnaughts, one a singular ship, the other a massive new station, larger and more advanced than the Torus, with an Abbadon Cannon, a jump drive, and capability to hold all 30 billion humans in case of a planet-wide disaster.”

“It would be easier to weaponize the moon.”

“Maybe. But we need to do this. He may live a thousand years. Do you want him to be a dictator over our great-great-grandchildren too? Or do you want them to be free!?”

Falhaven was silent.

“Well?”

“Do it. We need to control the most powerful man in existence, and god knows his daughter is out of reach.” He stood up and began to walk out of the room.

“Thank you babes. Love you! Tell Sharon I say hey! Ooh, invite her up here! We need to party again!” Thane said, mocking him.

He grabbed the doorway. “Fuck you Linda.”

He walked out from a giggling General, one of the few times she had done so in many years.

#space australians #sci fi #scifi series #scifi stories #sci fi & fantasy #stabby the roomba #stabby the space roomba #HUMANS ARE WEIRD #earth is a death world #Humans are fucked up #HUMANS KICK ASS #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #space australia #space orcs

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years ago

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AND IN FACT, WHEN WE TOOK USERS ONTO OUR SERVER

That's more ideal than typical. Before central governments were powerful enough to ignore the local feudal lords. The thing about ideas, and that kind of brain power to petty but profitable questions, you might as well not exist.1 FREE 0. But there is nothing the rich like more than convenience. No one knows whether a startup would usually become profitable only after raising and spending quite a lot in common with us. 25 to 40% of the company.2 Or rather, IPO then bust, or just a niche product company, but to fail to mention a few critical technical secrets.

Compared to other industrialized countries, people belong to one institution or another at least until their twenties. The need has to give. So if you want to raise.3 There are a lot of people realize this, even in an industry as conservative as venture capital.4 I desperately needed on stuff that I didn't. In any interesting domain, the difficulties will be novel. Architecture is related to physics, in the sense of having a lot of cultural baggage, and in practice they are usually interchangeable. The first, obviously, is that you may not even be meaningful to say that VCs are clueless?

When I'm writing or hacking I spend as much time and attention as the successes. When you find an unmet need that isn't your own, you'd learn a thing or two running your own.5 They have to, or die. We take for granted are in fact not insoluble after all.6 You may be thinking, how hard can it be?7 Morally, they care more about what they find valuable as well what they're willing to be held to a standard that, say, Python? 08221981 supported 0. But think about what's going on in the heads of would-be founders may by now be thinking, we have to reach back into history again, though this time not so far.8

It's not just the time of Confucius and Socrates, people seem to think of math as a collection of programs of different types. And if you're not a genius, just start a startup to be rejected by most of them don't.9 In 1800, people could not see as readily as we can that a great artist. That's probably roughly how we looked when we were a bit like anaerobic respiration: not the optimum solution for the long term it's to your advantage to have kept looking, because you'll drift away from building beautiful things toward building ugly things that make more suitable subjects for research papers. The opposing argument ad what most people would agree was absurdum. It's as relaxing as painting a wall. But if you had written your whole program by hand in machine language. As turned into de facto series B rounds. Of course, there are people you already know might send you an email talking about sex, and many of the current super-angels are in most respects mini VC funds, not the topic. How much of a market economy do. It's exceptionally rare for startups to grow. In an opera it's common for counterarguments to be aimed at something slightly different.

Here's a clue.10 If anyone wanted to try, we'd be interested to hear from them.11 If they don't need a big development team, so our third test was largely a restatement of the first 10 or so we intended to make this work.12 Most hackers understand why that happens; Fred Brooks explained it in The Mythical Man-Month, adding people to a site that seemed to me this couldn't possibly matter. Eventually everyone will learn by word of mouth, like Google did.13 I began that essay, and even then they seem to be any less committed to the business. Teenage kids, even rebels, don't like to say no to. They don't want founders to be nice people.14

Worrying that you're late. Now it's just one of the data types supported by the language. What about grad school? Our early training and our self-censorship temporarily, those will be the last to notice. Because few of us know any alternative, we have to go far down it before you start to lie to yourself.15 Every couple days I slip and call it Viaweb. I didn't prompt this one.

So while you'll probably survive, the problem now seems to be in New York, where people walk, but not an intolerable one. You find the same in music and art.16 If you have two choices, choose the most charismatic guy? Thanks to Marc Andreessen, Sam Altman, Paul Buchheit, Jessica Livingston, and Robert Morris for reading drafts of this. But their founders, like parents, truly believe they do.17 Whereas if you were about to do that is simply to state the opposing case stated explicitly is enough to get an offer from a better one in the 80s and 90s. A preliminary result, that all metaphysics between Aristotle and 1783 had been a one-time combination of circumstances: court decisions striking down state anti-takeover laws, starting with the Supreme Court's 1982 decision in Edgar v. If you find yourself saying a sentence that ends with but we're going to keep working on the startup, but it has been experimentally verified, in the case of pastoral nomads driving hunter-gatherers accords with research on organizations and my own experience.

Notes

In the early empire the price, they did not become romantically involved till afterward. Some are merely ugly ducklings in the early years.

If all the other sheep head for a certain field, it's not lots of opportunities to sell early for us, the same work, the Patek Philippe 10 Day Tourbillon, is rated at-1. Not in New York the center of gravity of the world's population lives outside the US, it will become increasingly easy to discount knowledge that at some of the problem, but the churn is high as well, but this sort of person who would never even think of a placeholder than an actual label—like putting NMI on a valuation cap.

Letter to the problem and approached it with the idea of starting a startup to duplicate our software, we should remember this when he was made a Knight of the conversion of buildings not previously public, like languages and safe combinations, and it has about the difference. That should probably be worth approaching—if you don't even want to start some vaguely benevolent business. You're going to do, but most neighborhoods successfully resisted them.

Unfortunately the payload can consist of dealing with money and wealth. The undergraduate curriculum or trivium whence trivial consisted of three stakes. This is, it is certainly part of grasping evolution was to reboot them, initially, to get them to justify choices inaction in particular made for other kinds of companies that can't reasonably expect to do certain kinds of menial work early in the general sense of getting credit for what she has done, she doesn't like getting attention in the few cases where you get to be evidence of spam in my incoming mail fluctuated so much in their lifetimes.

Hypothesis: Any plan in 2001, but as a high school textbooks.

First Industrial Revolution was one that had other meanings are fairly closely related.

I'm talking mainly about software startups. I had a strange feeling of being Turing equivalent, but one by one they die and their hands thus tended to make a country, the top and get pushed down by new arrivals.

But you couldn't do the equivalent thing for founders; if they seem to have them soon.

The reason not to say Hey, that's not likely to come in and convince them. Handy that, in the imprecise half. What, you're pretty well protected against such tricks will approach.

I didn't realize it till I started doing research for this purpose are still called the executive model. Top VC firms have started to give you more inequality. The Roman commander specifically ordered that he could accept it. There are a different type of product for it.

While the US since the war. In fact the decade preceding the war, federal tax receipts have stayed close to starting startups since Viaweb, and then stopped believing, so it's conceivable that intellectual centers like Cambridge will one day is the place of Napster. When we got to targeting when I first met him, but it's always better to read a draft of this desirable company, and FreeBSD 1.

Bullshit, Princeton University Press, 1983. But I know, Lisp code.

It's unpleasant because the early adopters you evolve the idea that they either have a taste for interesting ideas: Paul Buchheit for the desperate and the low countries, where there were no strong central governments.

For example, being a train car that in practice that doesn't seem an impossible hope. There are also startlingly popular on Delicious, but countless other startups, so problems they face are probably not quite as easy as I explain later. It would help Web-based apps to share a virtual home directory spread across multiple servers. You can have margins big enough to become one of the reason this subject is so contentious is that in fact they don't know yet what they're selling and how unbelievably annoying it is less secure.

Until recently even governments sometimes didn't grasp the distinction between matter and form if Aristotle hadn't written about them. Unless of course finding words this way would be to write great software in Lisp, you may get both simultaneously. Japan is prone to earthquakes, so had a juicy bug to track ratios by time of unprecedented federal power, in response to the frightening lies told by older siblings.

The hardest kind of protection is one resource patent trolls need: lawyers. One YC founder who used to build little Web appliances. It's hard to mentally deal with slaps, but had instead evolved from different, simpler organisms over unimaginably long periods of time on a hard technical problem. Simpler just to go to work late at night, and both used their position to amass fortunes among the bear gardens and whorehouses.

A more powerful than ever. Monk, Ray, Ludwig Wittgenstein: The Civil Service Examinations of Imperial China, many of the mail by Anton van Straaten on semantic compression.

Thanks to Emmett Shear, Ian Hogarth, Robert Morris, Adaptive Path, Jessica Livingston, Jackie McDonough, Dan Siroker, Geoff Ralston, and Steve Huffman for putting up with me.

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gastricotv · 7 years ago

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Los premios Grammy, si bien no son conocidos por recavar información de los recovecos de la música y quedarse con los nombres pesados o lo que los especialistas (algunos) musicales han plasmado como lo mejor, tienen un gran lugar mediático y contribuyen en como puede moverse el mercado musical.

Hoy tenemos la lista de los nominados en todas sus categorías para 2018 y no hay muchas sorpresas; como ya dijimos, anuncios básicos y fáciles, mientras que otros parecieran que obedecen favores o inercia de años pasados aunque los materiales no sean los mejores.

En fin. Aquí las nominaciones:

Album of the Year

Childish Gambino - "Awaken, My Love!" JAY-Z - 4:44 Kendrick Lamar - DAMN. Lorde - Melodrama Bruno Mars - 24K Magic

Record of the Year

Childish Gambino - Redbone Luis Fonsi & Daddy Yankee ft. Justin Bieber - Despacito JAY-Z - The Story of O.J. Kendrick Lamar - HUMBLE Bruno Mars - 24K Magic

Song of the Year

Ramón Ayala, Justin Bieber, Jason “Poo Bear” Boyd, Erika Ender, Luis Fonsi & Marty James Garton - Despacito (Luis Fonsi & Daddy Yankee ft. Justin Bieber) Shawn Carter & Dion Wilson - 4:44 (JAY-Z) Benny Blanco, Mikkel Storleer Eriksen, Tor Erik Hermansen, Julia Michaels & Justin Drew Tranter - Issues (Julia Michaels) Alessia Caracciolo, Sir Robert Bryson Hall II, Arjun Ivatury & Khalid Robinson - 1-800-273-8255 (Logic ft. Alessia Cara, Khalid) Christopher Brody Brown, James Fauntleroy, Philip Lawrence, Bruno Mars, Ray Charles McCullough II, Jeremy Reeves, Ray Romulus & Jonathan Yip - That’s What I Like (Bruno Mars)

Best New Artist

Alessia Cara Khalid Lil Uzi Vert Julia Michaels SZA

Pop

Best Pop Solo Performance

Kelly Clarkson - Love So Soft Kesha - Praying Lady Gaga - Million Reasons Pink - What About Us Ed Sheeran - Shape of You

Best Pop Duo/Group Performance

The Chainsmokers & Coldplay - Something Just Like This Luis Fonsi & Daddy Yankee ft. Justin Bieber - Despacito Imagine Dragons - Thunder Portugal. The Man - Feel It Still Zedd & Alessia Cara - Stay

Best Pop Vocal Album

Coldplay - Kaleidoscope EP Lana Del Rey - Lust for Life Imagine Dragons - Evolve Kesha - Rainbow Lady Gaga - Joanne Ed Sheeran - ÷ (Divide)

Best Traditional Pop Vocal Album

Michael Bublé - Nobody But Me (Deluxe Version) Bob Dylan - Triplicate Seth MacFarlane - In Full Swing Sarah McLachlan - Wonderland Various Artists - Tony Bennett Celebrates 90

Rap

Best Rap Performance

Big Sean - Bounce Back Cardi B - Bodak Yellow JAY-Z - 4:44 Kendrick Lamar - HUMBLE. Migos - Bad and Boujee

Best Rap/Sung Collaboration

6LACK - PRBLMS Goldlink ft. Brent Faiyaz, Shy Glizzy - Crew JAY-Z ft. Beyoncé - Family Feud Kendrick Lamar ft. Rihanna - LOYALTY. SZA ft. Travis Scott - Love Galore

Best Rap Song

Dieuson Octave, Klenord Raphael, Shaftizm, Jordan Thorpe, Washpoppin & J White - Bodak Yellow (Cardi B) Judah Bauer, Brian Burton, Hector Delgado, Jaime Meline, Antwan Patton, Michael Render, Russell Simins & Jon Spencer - Chase Me (Danger Mouse ft. Run the Jewels, Big Boi) Kendrick Lamar Duckworth, Asheton Hogan & M. Williams II - HUMBLE. (Kendrick Lamar) Gabouer & M. Evans - Sassy (Rapsody) Shawn Carter & Dion Wilson - The Story of O.J. (JAY-Z)

Best Rap Album

Kendrick Lamar - DAMN. JAY-Z - 4:44 Migos - Culture Rapsody - Laila’s Wisdom Tyler, the Creator - Flower Boy

Rock

Best Rock Performance

Leonard Cohen - You Want It Darker Chris Cornell - The Promise Foo Fighters - Run Kaleo - No Good Nothing More - Go to War

Best Metal Performance

August Burns Red - Invisible Enemy Body Count - Black Hoodie Mastodon - Sultan’s Curse Meshuggah - Clockworks Code Orange - Forever

Best Rock Song

James Hetfield & Lars Ulrich - Atlas, Rise! (Metallica) JT Daly & Kristine Flaherty - Blood in the Cut (K. Flay) Ben Anderson, Jonny Hawkins, Will Hoffman, Daniel Oliver, David Pramik & Mark Vollelunga - Go to War (Nothing More) Foo Fighters - Run Zachary Baker, Brian Haner, Matthew Sanders, Jonathan Seward & Brooks Wackerman - The Stage (Avenged Sevenfold)

Best Rock Album

Mastodon - Emperor of Sand Metallica - Hardwired... to Self-Destruct Nothing More - The Stories We Tell Ourselves Queens of the Stone Age - Villains The War on Drugs - A Deeper Understanding

Alternative

Best Alternative Music Album

Arcade Fire - Everything Now Gorillaz - Humanz LCD Soundsystem - American Dream Father John Misty - Pure Comedy The National - Sleep Well Beast

R&B

Best R&B Performance

Daniel Caesar ft. Kali Uchis - Get You Kehlani - Distraction Ledisi - High Bruno Mars - That’s What I Like SZA - The Weekend

Best Traditional R&B Performance

The Baylor Project - Laugh and Move On Childish Gambino - Redbone Anthony Hamilton ft. The HamilTones - What I’m Feelin’ Ledisi - All the Way Mali Music - Still

Best R&B Song

PJ Morton - First Began Alfredo Gonzalez, Olatunji Ige, Samuel David Jiminez, Christopher McClenney, Khalid Robinson & Joshua Scruggs - Location (Khalid) Donald Glover & Ludwig Goransson - Redbone (Childish Gambino) Tyran Donaldson, Terrence Henderson, Greg Landfair Jr., Solana Rowe & Pharrell Williams - Supermodel (SZA) Christopher Brody Brown, James Fauntleroy, Philip Lawrence, Bruno Mars, Ray Charles McCullough II, Jeremy Reeves, Ray Romulus & Jonathan Yip - That’s What I Like (Bruno Mars)

Best Urban Contemporary Album

6LACK - Free 6LACK Childish Gambino - “Awaken, My Love!” Khalid - American Teen SZA - CTRL The Weeknd - Starboy

Best R&B Album

Daniel Caesar - Freudian Ledisi - Let Love Rule Bruno Mars - 24K Magic PJ Morton - Gumbo Musiq Soulchild - Feel the Real

Dance

Best Dance Recording

Bonobo - Bambro Koyo Ganda Camelphat & Elderbrook - Cola Gorillaz - Andromeda [ft. DRAM] LCD Soundsystem - Tonite Odesza - Line of Sight

Best Dance/Electronic Album

Bonobo - Migration Kraftwerk - 3-D the Catalogue Mura Masa - Mura Masa Odesza - A Moment Apart Sylvan Esso - What Now

Comedy

Best Comedy Album

Dave Chappelle - The Age of Spin & Deep in the Heart of Texas Jim Gaffigan - Cinco Jerry Seinfeld - Jerry Before Seinfeld Sarah Silverman - A Speck of Dust Kevin Hart - What Now?

Remix

Best Remixed Recording

Loleatta Holloway - Can’t Let You Go (Louie Vega Roots Mix) Bobby Rush - Funk O’ De Funk (SMLE Remix) Kehlani - Undercover (Adventure Club Remix) The xx - A Violent Noise (Four Tet Remix) Depeche Mode - You Move Me (Latriot Remix)

Music for Visual Media

Best Compilation Soundtrack for Visual Media

Various Artists - Baby Driver Various Artists - Guardians of the Galaxy Various Artists - Hidden Figures: The Album Various Artists - La La Land Various Artists - Moana: The Songs

Best Score Soundtrack for Visual Media

Jóhann Jóhannsson - Arrival Hans Zimmer - Dunkirk Ramin Djawadi - Game of Thrones: Season 7 Hans Zimmer - Hidden Figures Justin Hurwitz - La La Land

Best Song Written For Visual Media:

Justin Hurwitz, Benj Pasek & Justin Paul - City of Stars Lin-Manuel Miranda - How Far I’ll Go Jack Antonoff, Sam Dew & Taylor Swift - I Don’t Wanna Live Forever (‘Fifty Shades Darker’) Sia Furler & Greg Kurstin - Never Give Up Common & Diane Warren - Stand Up For Something

Packaging

Best Recording Package

Magin Diaz - El Orisha De La Rosa Mura Masa - Mura Masa Father John Misty - Pure Comedy The National - Sleep Well Beast Jonathan Coulton - Solid State

Best Boxed or Special Limited Edition Package

Various Artists - Bobo Yeye: Belle Epoque in Upper Volta Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Lovely Creatures: The Best of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds (1984 - 2014) The Grateful Dead - May 1977: Get Shown the Light Various Artists: The Voyager Golden Record: 40th Anniversary Edition Various Artists: Warfaring Strangers: Acid Nightmares

Producer

Producer of the Year, Non-Classical

Calvin Harris Greg Kurstin Blake Mills No I.D. The Stereotypes

Music Video/Film

Best Music Video

Beck - Up All Night Jain - Makeba JAY-Z - The Story of O.J. Kendrick - HUMBLE. Logic - 1-800-273-8255

Best Music Film

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - One More Time With Feeling The Grateful Dead - Long Strange Trip Various Artists - The Defiant Ones Various Artists - Soundbreaking Various Artists - Two Trains Runnin’

#Grammys 2018 #music news #noticias musicales

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beckmessering · 4 years ago

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@dichterfuerstin thanks for the tag :) here goes:

1. How did you discover Wagner’s music?

My dad and I went to see Tannhäuser together. He hadn’t listened to Wagner in years, I had never, it was just an experiment. (we also nearly weren’t let in because we were late. oops.)

2. Do you have a favourite opera? Which one?

Parsifal. The number two spot varies according to my mood and the production.

3. Favourite production of your favourite opera?

Parsifal 2013/2018 revival at the Met. Its symbolism is visually stunning and atmospheric, suits the opera, and places lots of emphasis on the singers, who were all 110% their characters musically and dramatically. But I also have to mention the Bayreuth 2017 Meistersinger because whenever I see that one, Meistersinger is firmly my second-favourite opera. It’s so witty and designed to make you uncomfortable, which actually helped me understand Meistersinger better.

4. Your favourite part of the Ring cycle?

This one was super hard. I’ve always loved Rheingold, recently developed a late but intense appreciation for Walküre, was quite entertained by Siegfried while nurturing a solid dislike of the title character, and Götterdämmerung is exciting but also saddening because it’s the last one. Concerning scenes, it would be easier to mention the ones I don’t like than the ones I like best.

5. Favourite Leitmotif?

Fine, THIS one is really hard. For knocking on doors as a secret code, the Nibelheim motif. But yeah, also the nature-related ones from Rheingold.

6. Favourite characters?

In no particular order: Beckmesser, Sachs, Wotan, Brünnhilde, Kundry, Amfortas.

7. Favourite soprano?

Anja Harteros, Lise Davidsen (judging from the sound, they may be celestial beings) and Evelyn Herlitzius (definitely not a celestial being, but the raw dramatic energy is just unsurpassable)

8. Favourite Alto or Mezzo-Soprano?

Hm. Christa Ludwig.

9. Favourite Tenor?

I like baritones so much that sometimes I just slip right past the tenors. But Klaus Florian Vogt is awesome, sporadically Jonas Kaufmann, and from the dead tenors club, probably Jon Vickers.

10. Favourite Baritone?

Forever and always: Michael Volle

New addition: Tomasz Konieczny

Desperately want to see more of: Johannes Martin Kränzle because he’s such a scene stealer as Beckmesser.

11. Favourite Bass?

René Pape. Georg Zeppenfeld also has my admiration as of late.

12. Favourite conductor?

Yannick Nezet-Seguin, Philippe Jordan. Christian Thielemann has also piqued my interest. Also, considering that his Ring cycle is a go-to for me, Karajan deserves a mention.

13. Give us an unpopular opinion!

I find Wagner’s libretti to be very good. Sometimes I read them like a play and hum along if I’m nostalgic. They’re very dense and every sentence expresses something specific, so you can’t take any of it away without losing meaning. And he makes up his own words to express specific ideas and persons, which tbh, I’d do that too. I also quite agree with @enricodandolo on this one.

14. Tell us about your favourite Wagner-related experience!

Managed to get tickets to Bayreuth once. I was internally screaming for months and researched obsessively and tried not to excitement-explode all over my parents. Best few days ever.

— this tag was really fun! Unfortunately, I’m a bit lost concerning who to tag. Anyone who sees this, go for it!

Wagner related questions

How did you discover Wagner’s music?

Do you have a favourite opera? Which one?

Favourite production of your favourite opera?

Your favourite part of the ring cycle?

Favourite Leitmotif?

Favourite character(s)

Favourite Soprano?

Favourite Alto or Mezzo-Soprano?

Favourite Tenor?

Favourite Baritone?

Favourite bass?

Favourite conductor?

Give us an unpopular opinion!

Tell us about your favourite Wagner-related experience!

Tagging the admins, @dichterfuerstin and @swanfloatieknight

#opera #richard wagner #orchestra #ring cycle #classical music meme #opera tag

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worldcakecakecake · 8 years ago

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Feliciano and the King of Hearts

Chosen by the gods as the Queen of Hearts from the moment of birth, we follow Feliciano’s story as he grows into royal life, learns to rule, go against age old customs, and his relationship with his husband to be, the King of Hearts.

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9I Chapter 10 I Chapter 11I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15 I Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19 I Chapter 20 I Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25 I Chapter 26 I Chapter 27 I Chapter 28 I Chapter 29 I Chapter 30 I Chapter 31 I Chapter 32 I Chapter 33 I Chapter 34 I Chapter 35 I Chapter 36 I Chapter 37 I chapter 38 I Chapter 39 I Chapter 40 I Chapter 41

This is a pretty long chapter, my browser kept crashing trying to post it. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 42

As soon as the sun dawned, each was off in their own direction to their assigned tower. Only Ludwig and Feliciano rode off together, and it was mostly because the arising king wanted to make sure that his arising queen would arrive safely. Pookie was left behind to stay protected at the hidden grove, watching over the things they kept in his watch, Feliciano promising to come fetch him once everything was done. After minutes of riding, the city finally came into view, all impressively contained behind the preparation of a shining silver wall, with symbols of the kingdom, unique towers standing to watch over all the kinds of rises in the city. Feliciano could only spot some buildings standing tall, the castle but a blur from their still far off distance.

The site was quite a beauty, shinning along in blue with the vicinity of its own protective forest, densely populated, with lively activity as it was expected each and every day, every person living to its routine, to the countless the city had to offer, and Ludwig and Feliciano were determined to save it from the danger they were not expecting.

Feliciano’s assigned base tower was a small one, overlooking a quite tranquil area of small buildings hiding under the shadows of their blue trees, paved stone roads where children played and teachers watched well over them. Feliciano couldn’t believe that these Khaos’s men would be so evil as to attack innocent unaware children, enjoying from sunny weather and being welcomed into their new day of activities.

They stopped their horses by an area they wouldn’t be spotted, mending well behind trees, bushes and rocks, Feliciano taking his time to gaze where he was going to work, familiarizing, spotting the next two towers off into other parts of the city, the passage between them ones he knew he could easily run upon to warn.

“Are you ready?” Ludwig asked him.

Feliciano trembled with the reigns still in his hands, with constant deep sighs that only seemed to make him more aware of the situation, to only worsen how his body moved along with those breaths. Ludwig could obviously tell he was afraid, nervous, hesitant to even touch the ground.

“I have to, don’t I? We all depend on each other for this to work.” With a self-push he dismounted, moving the horse away, free if it wanted to be, it was better that it ran off from whatever was to occur.

“I know you’re scared about this… I know you would rather not deal with something like this, never in any part of your ruling, but the reality is that sometimes we can’t avoid it, and they have to happen if something needs to be accomplished. We’re counting on you, remember, I’m only one tower away, if anything happens, you know what to do, we have the codes.”

Feliciano nodded, preparing his cloak, his footing to the direction he needed to take. “I will do my best,” he assured, with a promise in his eyes that caused Ludwig a warm smile on his lips. From the height of his own horse, he let his hand fall, to caress at the side of Feliciano’s face, taking the softness of skin and hair, showing him his faith and belief. It was so comforting to Feliciano, who let himself rub against that hold, closing his eyes and near to resting. He placed one last dear kiss on the palm of Ludwig’s hand, one last hold of his own, a strong smile, and he departed, forward to the opening that was available.

Once Ludwig saw that he found the entrance, only covered by makeshift wood that Feliciano easily moved apart, he turned his horse away and departed to his own assigned tower. Feliciano breathed out blessing spells under his breath for his protection, before he finally scrunched through the small space, trying to make his steps as silent as possible through the tunnel, reaching an end, a wall he could easily remove with a spell, to an opening of only tables with different kinds of weapons, papers, charms and bags, the walls hanging with bulletin boards, certifications, uniforms and armors. All right, he was finally inside, now to find a true guard and hope that he wouldn’t meet first with a hidden Khaos’s men.

Feliciano gazed around, no presence to spot, no guard, standing or approaching. He let himself enter completely, heading to the stairs, every step he took upward cautious with a peek, only continuing onward if he didn’t spot anything. He passed by a lighting blue orb in the wall, a window that showed once again to the children playing, and finally he spotted someone. A guard, with proper uniform, gazing over the area, making sure no threat lingered, letting himself smile at whatever occurrence the children did. Feliciano felt no malice, a look around showed no presence of anything dying, he was a true guard and it was the one he decided he had to approach and warn first. He took extra glances, making sure that he was alone in the area before he began to whistle, low enough for only him to hear; he really did not need to get the attention of others, especially if he didn’t know they would be of Khaos or not.

“Y-your- your highness?” He instantly recognized the arising queen of Hearts, all the guards at the wall had been sent pictures for them to recognize for their soon arrival. Yet, what was he doing here? The closest was the east gate and they were expected to enter through the south.

Feliciano motioned him to come closer and he obeyed, enough for their whispers to only be heard between each other. “I know this all looks crazy right now, but you must listen to me, the city is in terrible danger, soon enough about fourteen of Khaos’s men are about to storm into this tower, take control of the Sloane here and use it to attack the city.”

The real panic in his eyes, even in the way he trembled was enough sincerity for the guard to believe. “Your highness, how are they going to enter? How did you enter yourself? How did you find out about this?”

“A member in our group from our travel here sneaked into their camp and got one of their planning scrolls, we found out about tunnels they had been working to each tower for weeks, each of us are coming in to warn and prepare, we also found out that they sent spies and some of the guards might not be real ones. Please, how many guards are positioned in this tower?”

“We’re only six right now, this is not a very eventful area,” he dreaded.

“Where are they?”

“Two are by the canon, another one is here in this floor with me, the others are walking along the ramp of the wall giving their usual rounds.”

“Do you have any idea on who could be a spy?”

“Come with me, I’m not entirely sure.”

He hid the arising Queen behind his tall stature, moving him safely forward until he gazed to the man he shared this floor with, who was gazing over to one of the windows that showed the outside forest, sure and pointed. Feliciano felt no deathly air or evil stare. Trusting, he let himself show, moving away from the guard’s back, of course earning a surprised gasp from the other. He was about to bow and utter his ‘your highness’ when both shushed him, they had to be silent with this inspection.

The guard pointed to the spinning stairs that lead to the platform where the cannon lay. He moved in front, Feliciano behind, until they were given a good opening of the two standing guards without having to clearly show themselves. One of them seemed completely calm, gazing to the views of the city, then there was the other one, heavy intent in his eyes, seeming uncomfortable in the uniform he wore, and with Feliciano’s closer inspection, he noticed many of the stones around him rotting to darkness. Feliciano pointed for the guard, to let him know one of them was a Khaos, to the clear signs that showed it, before he slowly moved them back to the floor, the guard letting the other know of their discovery, quickly plotting a way to deal with this.

While they spoke, Feliciano gazed to the opening that led to the light of the morning, easily spotting the two guards that rounded. One of them had to be the second. He spoke to the two guards, in silent whispers telling them of the plan Ludwig had given him to capture the both of them. They called the true ones, with Feliciano’s help explaining the situation, until they were sure of the quick plan they had to fulfill. Both, after going back to their position, began their easing, close enough, with prepared skills, magic and bounds to swiftly make their attack, until both the intruders were tied in the rope that cut any chance of magic to pass. They were thrown in a corner of the tower, grimacing, trying to fight their way out, calling insults and shouting, but the four guards and Feliciano remained uncaring to it, now gazing to the arising Queen on what should be done next.

“Can you call more guards?”

“Of course, there are many in the area that can come.”

“Perfect, about twenty would do, if more, even better. Fourteen will be coming through the tunnel I already showed Mr. Lungu, keep extra precautions on the cannon.”

“Should we warn the other towers?” One asked.

“Should we send a message to the castle?” Another.

“I’ll make sure of warning the next towers and preparing them, we can’t call too much attention without knowing what these spies are willing to do to stop the guards. If you can send someone to message the castle, that be great, but make sure they don’t attract too much attention.”

“Will do,” they all saluted.

One stayed keeping watch on the prisoners, another on the canon, one went to find other guards to help for the invasion, the other to find a messenger to send to the castle. Feliciano wished them luck before running down the ramp to the next tower, to commence the same all over again. Luckily the two guards he met on the ramp were both true ones, to which he quickly explained the situation and they were quick find them, to capture them, find more guards in the area and prepare for the more that were to come through the tunnel below. Finally, it was only after this one that he should meet with Ludwig, so without a care, without a second thought, he ran along. He wanted to be with him, he wanted to help him with the next towers, they had to be there for each other, make sure they would be safe. As Ludwig would not let anything happen to Feliciano, Feliciano wouldn’t dare let something happen to Ludwig.

He forgot about the guards that were walking along the ramp, it was like the only one that was coming didn’t even exist, he was just wanted to get there, he just wanted to see Ludwig safe, having fulfilled the towers he needed to do for now.

“Feliciano!” He recognized his call, from the top, from surely the canon room, an ultimate panic in his every being that Feliciano was sure would throw him from the heights in his desperation. It was the call that had him realizing, looking frontal, a man, darkening, even with his blue Spadian uniform, pointing a very dark sword towards him, crafted unlike anything Feliciano had seen, jagged, glowing in eerie darkness, only something that would be in the cruelty of a man of Khaos. He came forward, running and ready to inflict whatever was necessary to stop the arising Queen. Feliciano was too determined, to forward in wanting to reach his arising King, so without even truly thinking about it, as if it was a calling of his soul, he began a spell, one he had never tested before, never seen on a book, never even heard of. A ray of fire, spark and even plasma appeared from his hold, a strengthening jet that shot quicker than even the fastest arrow. It hit the target on point, he was gone in a matter of seconds, Feliciano used his weight to jump over him as he fell and used the speed of his push to make his leaping quicker. The guards from the next tower were left in impression, for Ludwig to move out under their gazes, to run towards him and accept Feliciano’s jump into his arms as soon as he reached the entrance of the tower.

Of all the moments to share such a deepening embrace, such a tight hold, meant, strong and even powerful. When was the last time they hugged like this? When was the last time their arms could wrap around each other with such trust, belief and even love?

“You made it,” Ludwig managed a smile.

“I had to, I couldn’t let you do this alone,” Feliciano breathed into his chest, a loyalty that made Ludwig want to lock him more into this engulfing, forgetting towers, attacks and even Khaos’s men. It was the distraction one of these men needed, approaching with a knife sharpened to a shine, intent on piercing and stopping. Ludwig’s fist was quicker, and without having to let go of Feliciano or even turn around, he smashed his head downwards, gave him a kick straight to the groin, then to his stomach and he was on the ground without a single sweat from Ludwig’s brow. His attention was quickly brought back to the loving embrace, both smiling and swaying into the peace of their hold.

Like in the rest of the towers, the prisoners were taken, bound with anti-magic rope and brought to a corner, the guards being told the complete information, working on getting more soldiers and preparing themselves for the coming invasion. Once this tower was secure, Ludwig and Feliciano moved together to the next Ludwig hadn’t dealt with, two towers away, down the ramp, meeting with one of the rounding soldiers, a clear Khaos, approaching them ready to attack.

With an arising King and Queen together, he didn’t stand a chance.

They both used a fire jet combination spell, easily bringing him to submission, carrying him forward to the tower. The other spy had seen the ordeal from the canon room, coming down to avenge, unexpected to the guards that didn’t know anything yet. He was about ready to attack them with the fierceness of a spear, but with Ludwig’s strength, Feliciano’s agility, they physically beat him until he was in the same state as the one they burned. The guards, who were dumbfounded by the situation, were left in stilling shock as Ludwig and Feliciano explained while they bounded both the men. The typical scurrying to protect the canons, get extra guards and soldiers and make sure they were prepared before Ludwig and Feliciano headed off to the next tower.

The eastern gate was coming, the largest tower in the area, they were sure to meet with Cheng, who, if things went as planned, had already finished warning and preparing his own assigned towers. They ran with the eagerness, the exhaustion starting to get to them, but both made sure to keep each other going, with tightened grasps, a smile, or a gaze to the active city, reminding them of what they had to protect and defend.

So far no signs were shown by the others, which meant things must be going as planned, surely they were missing very few towers to warn, there was a chance, they could do this.

Shouts and war cries, swarming, reaching, beneath the tunnels, into the towers, into the wall. As Ludwig and Feliciano stopped and gazed to the side, they saw the large numbers of black cloaks appearing from the forest, starting their invasion through the tunnels, they were beginning their attack. They were confident the other towers could defend themselves, but…they hadn’t reached the eastern gate yet! No, they couldn’t leave such a big entrance, there were still spies in there, they could still reach the canon. They hurried, they tried to move forward as fast as they could, but it was too late, one of the spies was quick enough to reach the cannon, setting eyes on the approaching royals. He aimed and the first boom of the attack sounded. They jumped away just in time, landing in strong thuds against the ground, covering their heads from the flying debris, their ears from the large explosion that tore to pieces a proud part of the wall, right next to a choir school. They heard shouts, screams, shuffling of people running away, but it seemed like no one had been hurt…for now.

After Ludwig and Feliciano eased their breaths, turning around to see the full damage, they met with smoke arising into the air, the bridge back to the tower they just left turned to nothing, all but rocks and stones tumbling into the city and forest. They couldn’t remain laying there for long, they stood, they had to quicken before they did any other damage.

When they arrived to the tower, preparing the strongest of their magic to attack, they were surprised to find guards and soldiers, more than enough to battle on with the Khaos that were just entering. Distracted they were in their physical lounges, in the clash of weapons, in the throes of magic that Ludwig and Feliciano could easily pass by, wanting to deal with who was in the canon room.

When they reached the upward platform, they arrived just in time to see the Khaos fall to a limp on the floor, having just been handed with a single staff, by a person adorned in the most prestigious blue of the kingdom.

“Arthur!” Feliciano shouted ecstatically.

“Not the way I would have preferred to have you entering the capital city, but I’m glad to see you both! Welcome to Washington!”

It was in that very moment that they heard a sudden crash down below, worrying until someone shouted: “Everything is going well your majesty!” Arthur desperately wanted to hope so.

Ludwig stood by the stairs, ready to face any Khaos that would want to climb, while Arthur and Feliciano dealt with bounding the defeated Khaos in the room, as well as trying to heal to the best they could one of the fallen guards, who was exhausted on the floor, having dealt with a powerful blow to the head and a kick to his stomach, suffering other bruises and magic burns on his body. Leaving other soldiers to watch over the canons, they helped the guard down until they reached the base of the tower and gate, where now the rest of the men fought on by the forest, capturing and weakening the Khaos. They brought the wounded man to a carriage that could take him to the hospital to rest and properly heal.

“All kind of messengers arrived to the castle explaining what was happening. We immediately began sending our best soldiers and guards to help, after hearing you two were at the walls yourselves, Alfred and I decided to fight and help along as well,” Arthur explained, the carriage moving hurriedly away while he led them both back to the tower.

“So Alfred is here too?” Feliciano questioned, looking around hoping to meet him.

“Went to help with the western gate, he already met with Lei.” He took out his pocket watch, revealing several codes and messages instead of the time. “For now they’re doing all right, we agreed that once we secured the few missing towers, we would all meet at the center tower, the north gate, excruciatingly important that we reach right now.”

Both Ludwig and Feliciano nodded, and thus the three of them ran the bridges and ramps. They met up with Cheng in one of the next towers, helping him as well as the guards and soldiers with the invasion, catching many and sending more to capture those who ran to the forest in scared defeat. After so, they hurried on, with clear goal to reach the northern gate on time.

Ludwig and Feliciano recalled that Yong was the one in charge of dealing with it, confident that he was there, that he had subsided, that the guards believed him, that they rid of the fakes and were now keeping the canon secured and pushing along the invasion like the rest.

Even with their determined running, they couldn’t ignore the passing of the city, watching as now the citizens worried, as they crowded, staring on with worry, many surely thinking about evacuating or finding whatever safe spot they could in their own homes and buildings. It was then that they noticed the far side of the city, the opposite side of the wall, the symbol of a baby blue bird firing up into the heights, just enough for the message to send, for Cheng, Ludwig and Feliciano to spot.

Oh no…they ran on with clear panic in their expressions, one Arthur noticed, spreading even to him, sending a questioning look to the symbol.

“What’s happening?” Arthur asked, not for a moment stopping their haste.

“It’s Mei and Lien, one of the spies barricaded the entrance to the canon room in the tower they just reached, they can’t get in,” Cheng informed.

“I’ll send a message to Alfred, he’s closer and I’m sure he can send backup.” Arthur took out his watch ready to send the message, but he was halted with a crash, a boom, a burning, the item flying from his hold, landing on the ground like he did, coughing and trying to clear the cloud and heavy dusk with a fanning of his hand.

It was burning, it was heavy, Ludwig had to use a wind spell to clear their air, for them to notice all kinds of stones and pieces lying around them, a part of the wall destroyed, only inches away from them. Arthur gazed to the distance, knowing that it came from the very tower Mei and Lien sent their message from, the barricaded canon. Of course they would instantly set it to work and aim for them while they had the chance. They had to move quick, they couldn’t stall, another shot could be given, they still had to reach the northern gate.

Arthur and Cheng stood ready to run, but as they turned to Ludwig and Feliciano hoping that they would be just as prepared, they noticed Feliciano was still kneeled on the ground, hunching, clutching to his limp arm that they noticed dripped blood to the floor, the fabric of his sleeve drenched in red. His entire body whimpered in groans and cringes, filled with pain and fainting feelings.

“Ludwig…Ludwig…” he called, too weakened, too hurt to even sit up straight.

The arising King came close and finally saw, noticing that Feliciano had been the closest to the explosion, the blow one that his arm and back must have taken harshly. He quickly kneeled beside him, even with the panic, even with the utter breaking in his expression, managing to hold him close, uncaring to the blood that now drenched on him, easing what he could desperately, seeing that what he tried to do was not working, bringing him as well difficult breathing.

“Feliciano, Feliciano, stay awake, stay with me here, we-we’ll manage, we’ll do something” he promised, he determined, even with the shake in his voice. He looked over to Arthur, expecting some sort of words of help, something to do that instant about this.

“We’re at a difficult spot, I don’t have any healers in this area,” Arthur had to dreadfully admit.

“We can’t just leave him like this,” Ludwig quickly angered, with a growl, vengeance ready to inflict even on the Queen of Spades if it impended safety to Feliciano.

“Calm down! We’re in the middle of an invasion, we’re all stressed enough and I don’t want it getting worst, we should do our best to serve the city and the kingdom, and right now our duty is reaching the northern gate wounded or not and I cannot risk the entire population for a fallen one, you’ll either have to stay in the tower waiting for help or continue on despite.”

Ludwig hated the idea of having to stay behind when he should be fighting along and aiding, but he couldn’t stand the greying in Feliciano’s features, his wavering, the blood that kept oozing, life being slowly drained from his glowing and vivacity. No, he wanted his safety more than anything, and he would bring it to him somehow, even in the mess they were in, he wouldn’t dare let him disappear like this in his arms.

“Fine, fine, we’ll stay in the tower-” Ludwig began to accept, but Feliciano’s surviving hand rose weakly, halting his words.

“Lud-Ludwig, they-they need us,”

“Feliciano, you’re wounded heavily, if we go any further you’ll get worst, I’m sure Arthur and the rest will manage,”

“No, no,” it strained him more to say the words, the raised hand now falling to caress at Ludwig’s face. “I’ll manage, j-just carry me and I’ll still try-try what I can,”

“Feliciano, you can’t speak properly, you can’t even stay awake,”

“Cheng!” Feliciano managed to weakly call, the other approaching, careful, as if his breath could only tumble him more in his predicament.

“You told use once you knew-knew the most healing techniques in the group, can you try to he-heal me while we run?” Feliciano suggested.

“Feliciano, this is a big and strong wound, any more movements can worsen it, you’ll need more than me to ail it… but I can work on it somehow, it just won’t be that easy while we’re all moving.”

“The-then start, and let’s, let’s-” heavy breaths, reaching for new ones that came harder, “-go, please, we can’t stop, I don’t want us just sitting in a tower doing nothing, I-I want to help, I-I want to do so-something.”

He was too determined to deny, and although the worry, the concerns, even the lingering threats of what could happen with Feliciano already injured like this, they still had to accept, they still had to go on. His weight was easy for Ludwig to carry in his arms, with a dear hold that wouldn’t let a part of him fall, cradled in the most potent protection. Cheng kept his hands on Feliciano’s wounds, starting the spells, a glow under his hands that tried to do its work while they ran along the bridge, the ramps, through towers fighting on, occasionally helping if things got out of hand.

Alfred messaged Arthur about taking down the barricaded canon, how Lien and Mei helped along in defeating those that tried to invade that tower, keeping it secured enough for the four of them to make their own run to the northern gate with more men on ground approaching as well.

They all could finally see the gates from their distances, quite a immensity that made it hard to ignore, that intimidated, made them fear for what was going on in that largeness. They could see all kinds of dark cloaked figures approaching, from ground, from the far off ramps and bridges, aided by the escaped spies that were dressed still in the blue uniforms, talking, and plotting. Yong was still nowhere to be found, and it only brought them more agitation, more pierced gazes trying to find him, trying to see a way that the center tower was defending itself well.

“Guys, guys, guys!” They heard the familiar shout, a person finally coming close to them from the next nearing tower, waving frantically, clear panic in his eyes.

“Yong! What happened?” Ludwig demanded.

“Okay, so…I fucked up!”

“What happened?” Arthur shouted, wanting instant answers.

“One of the spies hid himself very well, I saw nothing, he looked like any other guard, he was the first one I met so Instantly told him what we had planned. He told me he was going to deal with the rest himself so I just left to help with the next tower. Now I found out that he actually killed several of the guards in there, he barricaded all entrances, he’s messaging for more to arrive and he’s getting them all in through the tunnel, trying to stop any of the guards, trying to get into the canon room,” Yong dreaded.

“We have more than strong enough men and women defending that canon, I’m sure they can hold on, but we must hurry even more,” Arthur fastened them all, now the five moving along together.

Yong helped Cheng with the healing, both their union creating enough color to be brought to Feliciano, for his eyes to flutter with more life. Although blood dwindled, still continuing to ooze, to sting, at least most of the cuts were slowly being shut and perhaps they could even let him run if it didn’t hurt him too much, but Ludwig was not willing to take any chances.

Soon enough they were finally before the large rubble that blocked their entrance, some men were still fighting with Khaos who were trying to get in, others trying to remove as much as they could from the debris, but other stones kept falling, Khaos’s men managed to come outside and battle on, impending more of their digging and entering. The rest prepared their weapons, their magic, ready on to attack, to create that opening before they reached the Old Sloane.

“I’m sorry Feliciano, but I can’t let you come,” Ludwig told him, bringing him to a spot in a near lookout tower, to be protected by two guards who had no problem with offering.

“No, no, I have to go,” Feliciano still begged, but his body was still weak, the reach of his hand paining, he couldn’t even sit up correctly.

“Feliciano, please, just stay here, you’ve already done more than enough, let us handle this.” He took one last caress of his face, with promise, those shining amber eyes believing in that strength that he gave him.

Feliciano reluctantly nodded, having to make himself comfortable in the spot he lay, still preparing magic for if anything unexpected happened. Ludwig took out a dagger, infusing some of his own magic with it before he stood, only to be stopped by the harsh grip of Feliciano’s hands.

“Please be safe, I won’t stop giving you blessing spells,”

“Save that energy for you Feliciano, I’ll be fine.” He gave him one last reassuring grip of their hands before he dived into the frenzy, into the attack, into the swinging, into the beating and into the creation of openings, for the chance, for the hope.

Feliciano couldn’t see anything, all he had were the expressions of the guards who kept watch in this tower, who gazed on, who conversed in a language Feliciano couldn’t understand, commenting surely on what they were doing, what was happening, one even left seeing that they needed more aid. Now Feliciano depended on the sounds of screams, he didn’t know from which side, on clashes of swords, of booms of magic, of thrown debris, shouts of information, of the situation in other towers, how another was killed inside the Northernmost gate. He couldn’t hold his whimper, he couldn’t hold the tears from falling with his outmost worry, for the lives of those lost in the hands of people so horrible, and all he was doing, while the rest fought on, was just sit there uselessly, crying, cringing, without even getting to see what was happening.

“Cheng! Cheng! Are you okay?”

“What do you mean Alfred is hurt?”

“They took down one of the guards keeping the canon, there’s only four of them left against seven!”

“Ludwig, be careful!”

He had to see, he had to see!

Although it hurt, he managed to take a hold of the wall, pushing himself up, his left arm still fallen in a limp but his right arm was enough to haul him, enough to bring him to the opening, to finally see the stage of what was going on.

Fallen people on the ground, those continuing battle, he could see tears in the verge of Arthur’s eyes as he tried to bring down a Khaos, fighting on with only the assistance of his staff, Yong helping Cheng from his own serious pain, even after he defeated one, and there was Ludwig, fighting on two of Khaos’s men, with punches, with slices of his dagger, fire spells and even piercing ice ones, trying to keep an opening, trying for it to be enough for them to get their entrance.

“Ludwig…” Feliciano called, as if it was enough to help him, to bring down those evil men that only wished the worst for him.

“Ludwig…” he called again as he saw him loose the grip of his dagger, letting it fall to the ground, instead focusing on attacking with the force of his arms and legs.

“Ludwig…” These men were strong, as robust as he, they gave their own strengthening blows, Ludwig was enough times left out of air, stumbling, blood falling from the side of his face, and yet he still went on, letting the bruises arrive if it meant entrance, if meant saving.

“Ludwig,” Feliciano whimpered, his own tears beginning to cloud his vision, all the mess, all the turmoil hazed into one vision of hopelessness and failing.

“If something happened to Alfred, I swear!”

“I’m sure Mei is doing what she can!”

“One of the towers has received too many sudden men, they’re defeating them, they might get to the canon.”

No, no, no, Feliciano’s hands gripped on the floor as he maintained on his knees, as the ancient stone was decorated in the wetness of the tears that escaped.

One fall, a familiar breathing being lost, coughing, one approaching man with a long sword, an evil maniacal laugh, ecstatic over the piercing kill he was to create on the precious arising king of hearts. Ludwig couldn’t escape, the man had a foot on his chest, pushing, leaving less and less space for air to pass or for a movement to let him stop.

“Ludwig, Ludwig…” A lunge, an approach, a panic, a lightening, a meet. “LUDWIG!”

The scream was potent enough to blow, to go along with the large crack, with the sudden tremble of the ground. The wind, the city, even time seemed to stop as power rose, as the entire wall began to tear itself apart, every piece, every tower, every symbol, men, weapon, going up into the air. Every useless part was disintegrated, pieces began to fall on enemies, some began to hold tight to their nearest person as stones, small or ginormous, flew above, under or even beside them, sending their aim to every spy, every cloaked men. The guards and the rest could do nothing, just as those in the city, who stopped all completely to watch this phenomenon, in gasp, in wonder, in terror, clutching to their own tightly, afraid, but hoping, hoping this could aid somehow.

The entire wall, all its radius, immensity and weigh floated up in the air, all in the control of one person, all in his power and magnitude.

“Wha-what is this?” Yong asked in panic, floating along in his own piece still holding to Cheng.

“What the hell is going on?” Arthur tried to find a quick answer.

Ludwig, who finally managed to stand, although still tumbling, still hurting, blood falling down his face, searched for Feliciano, and when his eyes landed on him, he saw him still sitting in his place by the tower, his area still grounded, unaffected. He glowed…in the same strange marks, leaking the potent of an extreme power that helped him stand, that made him walk along, unaffected by the force he created, not when he had a mission.

“Feliciano…it’s Feliciano…he’s doing this!” Ludwig realized, shouting it to all.

Their eyes instantly found him, curious for an explanation, but all he showed were those weird markings and nothing else to make clear.

“How…how is he doing this?” Arthur shouted back rather fearful.

Feliciano was walking proudly, with finesse, jumping along the pieces that formed before him, uncaring to all, not when he finally reached the tower that floated along with the rest. He passed by those true guards who were shaking, holding to anything to keep themselves grounded while the gate and tower seemed about ready to shoot into the heights of the sky. Feliciano moved along in familiarity, in quite a cool, up the tearing stairs and unto the canon room.

The true guards tried to hold themselves from pieces on the floor, the heaviness too strong to even let them sit up or stand, and with Feliciano’s presence, the heightening power around him, it was much worst.

He let them deal how they could, reaching instead to the Khaos that held on to a level of the Old Sloane, a cannon as large as he expected, crafted even wonderfully to show its power, its level of destruction, decorated in jewels, artistry with crystal fires in silvers and blues. It was honestly quite a beauty.

From the light that circled around the weapon, the Khaos was trying to charge it to its full capacity and not even the presence of Feliciano’s danger, of the altitudes, of the crushing intensity, was enough to dispatch him.

“Move,” Feliciano commanded.

“No,” he decided, only pulling the level harsher, hoping it could somehow quicken the charge.

Feliciano didn’t do anything to move him...but his marks grew harsher in fire burning red, joining along with the glare in his eyes, an intensity that didn’t match with the descriptions of child-like, bubbly and sweet features they were told the arising queen of hearts held. While he stood stiff, even with the continuous movements of the wall, of all the flying debris he controlled around him, a sudden crashing came to add, a figure instantly moving from the dust to stand in fearsome strength over the Khaos. The St. Mark roared, a sound of immenseness, of ferocity, blinding, it shook the other until it was enough to lose his strength even with the holding of the lever. His body was about to hit the ground until Feliciano stopped him half way with the air of his power.…only to throw him much harsher to the opposite surface, the wall so weakened that parts flew off easily, diving him more into their crushing.

There was no other Khaos man in the area, they hadn’t survived the immense attack Feliciano had sent, and so without a moment to lose, he raised the level back to its original position, the charging instantly shutting down to nothing. In that very moment, with one last thanking smile to Pookie, his glow began to disappear, his magic dwindled, he fell to the ground and with him all the wall came back to the ground. A couple of holes, a couple of loose bricks, true guards dizzying and trying to find their footing, but the wall came down to its original state like it hadn’t been handled so easily as to let it float above the city.

No Khaos man, in no part of the wall, was standing, they either lay dead or unconscious on the floor, guards quickly managing what they could to take them, for either a burial or imprisonment. Many, from the far side of the city, gazed in unison to the north, with still deepening question with what just happened, wondering if any of the royals had to do with it.

Mei, Lei, Lien and Alfred crossed the now cleared bridge to the others, who were just taking their first steps after the whole ordeal, still dizzy, still trying to make sense. Alfred, although bloodied and bruised, still ran towards Arthur with spirit, unaffected by his own hurt, only wanting his husband’s embrace, the secureness to each that they were all right, before one another and the threat defeated. Mei, Lien, Yong, Cheng and Lei all came to their own group embrace, with confident smiles of a job well done, ecstatic for their safety and survival.

“That had to be…one of the most epic things…I’ve seen…in all my life,” Alfred commented, still blown and shaken, adrenaline pumping, part of him wishing he could see it all over again.

As they gazed to the center tower, completely cleared for any to enter, Ludwig took the first sprint forward after having found some stabilizing. The rest followed behind, proceeding through the broken gate, helping some of the guards who were still nauseous and shaking, aiding along with piling deceased bodies and any tying of still living Khaos’s men. Ludwig went on, knowing the rest could manage while he desperately went up the tower to the canon room, wanting to see Feliciano.

He lay comfortably on the ground, the pillow of a cape under his head, his body in rest, the current guards tending to him, bandaging the wound that still spewed blood, more after his height of power. Pookie’s large figure lay behind them, keeping a good watch, under his large paw a surviving Khaos’s men in his capture. He seemed to smile up to Ludwig in welcome, but he ignored it, instead rushing to Feliciano’s side, bringing his body against him, the guards giving him the space and wish. Ludwig cradled him tightly, pushing away curls from his tranquil face behind his ear, caressing, taking every breath, every sudden movement he made in his sleep. He was fine, even with wounds and unconscious, he was more than fine, with chance, with survival and a hero to this city. Ludwig dared laugh in pride, to secure more his arms around him, hoping that in his dreams he could feel all this devotion, all this love, every belief that knew they could make this and with proof of the extend Feliciano’s power could create.

#Feliciano and the King of Hearts #gerita #fatkoh #f&tkoh #gerita fanfiction #gerita fanfic #gerita fic

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