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simplybakugou · 4 years ago

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Off the Deep End

↝ In a world of supernatural and all powerful quirks, Bakugou is baffled when he has to help a mermaid save her kingdom against his arch nemesis.

PROMPT: “You’re a what now?!”

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!bakugou x mermaid!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing ⋆ WORD COUNT: 6011

A/N: Here’s my submission for the @bnhabookclub mermay event! I may or may not have made Monoma the villain because it was funny to me I swear that I don’t hate him lmao. Also I’m sorry if this is probably the worst thing you’ve ever read lol

Tagging: @sipsteainanxiety shay thank you for your sweet words during our sprints. I hope you enjoy this :)

✐posted 5.31.2020✐

“I can’t believe I’m listening to your bullshit right now,” Bakugou grumbled into his phone over the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, looking around the dock.

“Dude, Sero and I are telling you that there’s something really weird happening around there!” Kaminari urged on the other line, the panic evident in his voice. “I read that so many people patrolled in that area and they said that something fishy’s going on. Just check it out for me?”

Bakugou laughed. “Are you too fucking scared to check it out yourself?”

“No!” Kaminari blurted in annoyance. “It’s just… electricity and water aren’t a good combination.”

“Sounds like a fucking excuse to me but whatever. I’ll see what you’re whining about.” Bakugou hung up shortly after, shoving the device into his back pocket as he walked along the wooden panels. He scanned the area, not seeing anything out of the ordinary or anything to be frightful for. That idiot’s complaining for nothin’...

The only peculiar thing about this sector was that usually docks and ports would have various boats attached to it but this had nothing, just a wooden walkway staring right into the mouth of the ocean. Bakugou shrugged, assuming that his friends were blindly believing blatantly idiotic rumors. He wouldn’t be surprised if this was a prank they were trying to pull either as the pair would often mess around with him and attempt to send him off on wild goose chases.

With that thought in mind, Bakugou walked off into the opposite direction, making his way towards his car so he could get back to his agency until the sound of laughter stopped him in his tracks, one that sounded like bells ringing and echoing in the air. He spun around, eyes averting in all directions to try and locate the source of the melodic laughter. The area was abandoned and the sun beaming in the sky would reveal anyone roaming around easily. That was why Bakugou was even more baffled when the sound repeated, loud enough to be heard over the collision of the splashing waves.

Not thinking twice, Bakugou approached the source of the sound, believing that this was what Kaminari and Sero were so afraid of. He got to the end of the dock, his feet on the edge as he attempted to search for the mysterious voice once more.

“What the fuck am I even doing here?” Bakugou grumbled to himself, deciding to head back after failing to find the voice and once again annoyed with himself for even coming here in the first place.

“Whoa, I didn’t think people actually came on this side of the portside anymore,” a voice quipped just as Bakugou was walking away.

He turned around, taking a few steps back as he gasped to see a person in the water, smiling up at him. “The fuck you think you’re doing?! It’s too dangerous to be in the water!”

You were taken aback by his sudden concern, your lips curling upwards in amusement. “Now this is odd. It’s not everyday a human is worried about me.”

“What are you--” Bakugou stopped as he saw you dove underwater, causing Bakugou to toss his shoes and phone to the side. Even if he was off duty for his job, he was still a hero and he wouldn’t let anyone drown themselves, no matter how stupid they were for doing so.

Just as he was about to begrudgingly jump into the water, your head popped back up, even more amused than you were before. A human was willing to risk his life to save you. Bakugou sighed, irritated that he was even entertaining you or that you were pleased by this in the first place. “You think this is funny? Just get out of the fucking water, you’re wasting my time.”

You laughed, the sound ringing in Bakugou’s ears. “I’m sorry, maybe this will make more sense if I do this.”

Before Bakugou could question what you were doing this time, you swam over to the edge of the dock, hoisting yourself up over one of the many ginormous boulders lodged into the side. Bakugou nearly choked at the sight before him, feeling like his eyes were deceiving him.

But it was not a deception. There you were, sitting atop the boulder, with two shells covering your chest and the rest of your upper body adorned with miniature seashells. Your lower half was inhuman as a large tail, iridescent hues of blue and purple sheen covering it.

“As you can see I’m not human, so you don’t have to worry about me,” you said, grinning from ear-to-ear, completely beguiled by his flabbergasted expression. It was always funny whenever humans reacted this way to seeing you, although it had been years since you’d last seen a human. “I’m a mermaid.”

“Y-You’re a what now?!” Bakugou asked, absolutely bewildered. When Kaminari had informed him about odd occurrences happening in this dock in the past, Bakugou suspected anything but a mermaid to appear.

You maneuvered down the boulder using your arms, settling back in the water and swimming closer to the dock to get a better look at Bakugou. He took a step back, flustered by how intense your staring was. “W-What? Why’re you giving me that weird ass look?”

You chuckled, resting your head in your hands. “The last times humans showed up in this part, they came because they wanted to see the ‘legend’ of the mermaids that live here. And everytime I had to deal with those humans, I had to scare them off so that my people could live in peace. This is the first time someone has come here without any ill intentions.”

Bakugou took a small step forward, looking down to verify once more that your tail was real and not a figment of his imagination. You giggled, lifting your tail up slightly above the water. “It’s real. You weren’t imagining anything.”

Bakugou felt disconcerted by this whole situation, unable to comprehend what to do or how to go about this. He knew he had to return to work soon but he didn’t know how to just walk away from this knowing that you were a full fledged mermaid. You rose a brow at him. “You’re not going to go to your friends and have them come down here, are you? Because I’m really not looking to have a fight with anyone.”

Bakugou shook his head slowly. “It’s none of their business to come down here. I just came ‘cause my friend’s a fucking pussy and was nagging me to check out this area.”

You smiled, grateful and also a little surprised that a human had no desire to exploit you and your species’ existence. “I appreciate it. You know… you’re not that bad. I’ve always despised you humans for everything that you’ve done, but I think you’re pretty okay.”

Bakugou scoffed, looking off to the side. “Whatever.”

You laughed at his reaction, looking up at him and taking in his features. He looked nothing like any human you’d ever seen. His hair was spiky, not budging against the rhythm of the wind beating against it. His eyes were the brightest, most intense shade of scarlet red, making you feel intimidated just by one look. And yet he was handsome, too.

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” You said bluntly.

Bakugou’s eyes widened, his cheeks inflamed. “Shut up! Just mind your business and do whatever fish shit you do. I’m leaving.”

You watched as he stomped off, ten times more amused than you were before. He was interesting to say the least, and you were hoping that he would keep his word and not bring any unwanted attention to your existence. But somehow, you felt like you could trust this beautiful stranger.

***

Since that day, Bakugou felt himself physically and mentally drawn to the dock. He started out by stopping by occasionally, curious to see you once more. Your mere existence intrigued him, although he would never admit it. Slowly with time, his visits became more frequent and you began catching him in his act. So you joined him, talking to the only human you’d ever met that was curious about you solely because he wanted to get to know you.

And you wanted to know more about him, often finding yourself waiting by the boulders for his visits. And the more you two met, the more you learned about one another. It was your first time meeting a pro hero, understanding why Bakugou felt obligated to help you when first meeting you.

And Bakugou learned about you and your kingdom. You were a princess of an underwater kingdom called Coara, guarding your kingdom from prying and nosy humans, many of whom were scientists who would go as far as wanting to dissect you and your people if they had gotten their grubby hands on you. Bakugou frowned whenever he heard the anger in your voice when voicing your opinion on how aggravated and fed up you had been with such pestering people.

You were interesting to say the least. Most people’s first impressions of Bakugou were mostly negative, people often complaining about his abrasiveness or that he was too rude for their liking. But not to you. Even the way he spoke to you was intriguing for you, you finding yourself into him even more than you already were.

But the more you thought about him and were around him, the more you felt unsettled by your new friendship. All your life you had worked to gain this peace that had finally remained. You warned yourself that humans were bad news, vowing to reprimand anyone who so much as approached this area. And yet you wanted to be around Bakugou more and more, feeling disappointed if he didn’t show up on certain days due to his demanding occupation.

And just like any other day, you waited by the boulders, growing impatient as the sun had begun to set, casting an orange hue over the sea. “He’s late…” you muttered to yourself, returning back underwater for the remainder of the night.

Although Bakugou had informed you previously that his job had irregular working times, meaning it was never certain that he was free on certain days, you felt annoyed with him. In fact, for the past few days he hadn’t shown up at your usual spot. Since he never had any way of contacting you, as you were a mermaid and had no reason to be acquainted with human-made technological devices like cell phones, Bakugou was never able to tell you when he wouldn’t be able to see you. If he were being completely honest, he still couldn’t believe that he was regularly meeting with a mermaid in the first place.

So for his lack of visits, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Y/N,” one of your closest friends urged, looking around the dock as it had been quite some time since she had even bothered to go above the surface from the safety of her underwater home.

You waved her off. “It’s fine, Alicia. As long as no one else finds out about this, which is why I trust that you won’t say a word about this to the others.”

Alicia scoffed. “Of course not, Your Highness.”

You gave her a look as she laughed at you teasingly. “You know you’re the only one allowed to not call me that because it weirds me out when you say it.”

She grinned, throwing her arm over your shoulder. “That’s because we’ve been stuck to the hip since day one! I’d do anything for you.”

You smiled softly, looking around the area once more to confirm that no one was watching or listening in. Then you reached over to the dock, pulling yourself up with the help of Alicia pushing the rear of your tail. Twisting your body around you sat back, flexing your tail above water.

“No turning back now!” You exclaimed, placing your hands on your tail and activating your quirk. As you were a mermaid, you still were born with quirks like humans. Similar to how some animals have intellectual type quirk that allow them to communicate with humans, you still had a quirk. Your quirk was Legs, giving you the ability to provide yourself and others with human legs at your command. You could also take them away at will and this quirk only benefited those who didn’t already have legs. It was an odd quirk but it was yours. It was often used in the past, back when the people of Coara were interested in human life, and you and your mother had the same quirk. It was tradition that the first daughter of the royal family inherited this quirk as a means to make amends with the humans. But since you had taken the throne, the selfish science oriented humans had no intention of keeping an alliance as they only wanted to probe and dissect you and your people for their own benefits. It had been years since the last scientist had caused trouble, leaving you and your kingdom with a short period of peace.

And you had every intention of keeping the peace.

Using your quirk, your fingertips created an amber glow, adorning your lustrous tail into two legs. You groaned, stretching your new limbs out in the air. “It’s been a while since I’ve had these. I need to stretch them out.”

Alicia chuckled, retrieving the mound of seaweed she had collected per your request. Her quirk gave her the ability to make cloth and clothing out of any form of vegetation and plants. She needed to utilize her quirk as you couldn’t just waltz around the city with only a shell bra covering your chest and nothing covering your lower body.

“It’s pretty hot out now so I made something more freeing for you to wear,” Alicia said, handing your clothes. You quickly changed into them, slipping on your underwear, top, and shorts. She even made a pair of simple sandals out of coral and branches. In no time, you were ready to head out into the city.

“You really like him, huh?” Alicia asked, staring up at you as you rose to your feet.

You rolled your eyes at her. “We’re friends. He’s the first person I’ve met since I was a child, roaming around the human world by my mother’s side, that has shown genuine compassion and interest in our people.”

Alicia sighed. She knew that this was more than a newfound friendship, however, you were too blinded to understand how you truly felt about Bakugou yourself. Even he didn’t know how he felt about you. “Just be careful. Please.”

You smiled, crouching down in front of her. “It’ll be alright. Trust me. I just want to see him for just a second and I’ll return as soon as possible!”

“Alright. Tell your boyfriend I said ‘hi’!” Alicia called out teasingly, earning a glare from you as you strode off towards the city.

***

It took about twenty minutes for you to find your way into the city as it had been quite some time since your last visit. Nevertheless you made your way through, stopping and asking bystanders for directions to Bakugou’s agency.

On the other hand, Bakugou obviously didn’t suspect a thing. He was patrolling around the sector as he usually did, keeping an eye out for peculiar events. Kirishima joined him that day, walking beside him as the two men strode through the city.

“It’s not everyday that we’re asked to patrol together,” Kirishima commented, waving to a fan who was quite excited for his favorite hero to be out and about in public.

“Makes my life easier so I can leave early,” Bakugou responded as the two turned the corner.

Kirishima glanced over at him. “Why, you got someone you’ve been dying to see?”

Bakugou was startled, regaining his composure to not give any hints. How did he know? “The fuck are you talking about? I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Come on, ever since Kaminari and Sero made you go to that weird place you always seem too busy to hang out with us.” Kirishima looked over at Bakugou as he seemed irritated. He didn’t want anyone to find out about your existence, understanding that you and your people’s lives would be put in danger. And he didn’t know what he would do with himself if he were responsible for anything that could happen to you.

Before Kirishima could prod any further into the matter, the two heroes stopped in their tracks, Bakugou personally getting ever more agitated than he already was at the sight of Monoma standing in their path.

“Monoma, I didn’t know you were in town,” Kirishima said.

Monoma smirked. “I’ve been around. More importantly, looks like Mr. Number One here is going to fall down in the rankings soon enough.”

Bakugou didn’t bother responding, ignoring him and walking right past him, causing Monoma to be taken aback. He turned around, staring Bakugou down. “You’re not even concerned with what I just said?”

Bakugou turned his head around, glaring at Monoma. “I don’t give a single flying fuck about whatever it is you’re running your trap for. I’ve got better things to do than hear you spew out some weird ass bullshit.”

Kirishima stifled his laughter, catching up to Bakugou with a few strides. Monoma’s agency had tried for years now to help Monoma reach his way up to the rankings, only able to reach the number two spot and falling short from Bakugou himself. Bakugou was simply the indisputable best, no matter how hard Monoma tried to dethrone him from the rankings.

And this absolutely infuriated him.

Monoma huffed, annoyed with the blonde who had gotten on his nerves since their days back in U.A. “I guess the rumors are true. You’ve changed these last few months. I wonder why that is…”

Bakugou stopped walking, now a few feet away from Monoma. He didn’t like the way he spoke, his words indicating that he was keeping something from him. For the final time he turned his head, staring daggers in Monoma's direction. “Keep worrying about falling from the rankings instead of being up my ass all the fucking time, dipshit.”

Bakugou kept moving, Kirishima keeping up with his pace as the pair made their way back to Bakugou’s agency. Kirishima chuckled. “Man, I’ve never really liked Monoma but he’s been pretty obsessed with you ever since you were named number one. It’s a little weird if you ask me.”

“I can barely remember that fucker’s name. I really don’t give a shit about what he does, so long as he’s not bothering me,” Bakugou mumbled as the two of them waited by the stoplight at the intersection in front of the agency. The light finally changed to green and Bakugou and Kirishima crossed the street, opening the giant glass doors to the building. Kirishima went over to the receptionists, filing any reports they had to complete.

“Ground Zero, there’s someone here who wanted to see you,” one of the receptionists said. “She’s waiting in the office.”

“Alright,” Bakugou said, mentally agitated as he didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. Nevertheless, he made his way down the hall and into his office, prepared to meet an annoying official working for the government or a crazed reporter that somehow was able to break into his agency. But he was pleasantly surprised to see a woman’s back facing him as he entered his office.

“What is this about?” Bakugou asked the woman curtly.

You turned around, causing Bakugou to nearly stop breathing. He didn’t know how, but you looked even more stunning standing in front of him than you did in your mermaid form. Your hair was slightly damp, the locks curling upwards. But your skin was practically gleaming against the light in the room, your smile sealing the deal that could cause Bakugou’s heart to palpitate irregularly in no time.

Just as he thought you couldn’t amaze him more, you did tenfold. “H-How the…”

You laughed, amused like you always were with the way he tended to be speechless by your mere presence. “Surprised to see me? I thought I’d pay a visit.”

Bakugou was absolutely bewildered, eyes widened and mouth agape with incredulity. “But you’re a fucking mermaid? Where’s your tail? How are you standing? What--”

“I have a quirk that lets me turn my tail into legs,” you stated blankly. “It’s nothing too special, my family has had a long line of inheritance with this quirk and I decided to use it since it’s been a while.”

“And why did you come? I was gonna stop by today,” Bakugou asked, waiting and wanting to hear you say what he wanted to hear.

You paused momentarily, your (E/C) eyes boring into his vermillion ones. You visually travelled down his figure, taking in his hero costume that you hadn’t seen previously. His biceps bulged out, his stature taller than what you had expected. He was even more handsome standing before than he was sitting beside you.

Bakugou felt himself blush under your obvious staring as you didn’t want to mask what you were doing or how you were feeling. You looked back into his eyes. “I missed you, Bakugou. I can’t explain why, but I missed you. And I couldn’t stand waiting idly by for you to come to me. So here I am.”

Before Bakugou could be even more flustered than he already was, the door to his office opened wide, a certain dark-haired man swinging his arm around Bakugou. “It’s been a while, man! Where have you been?” Sero exclaimed excitedly. Kirishima stood behind him at the door and the two men finally acknowledged you, shocked to see such a stunning woman in Bakugou’s office. Sero had stopped by as Kirishima had texted him, letting him know that he and Bakugou were back in the agency. But they were both pleasantly surprised by your presence.

Sero looked over at Bakugou, recognizing the light pink tinted on his cheeks as he smirked, putting two and two together. “Man, so this is what you’ve been doing recently!”

Bakugou glared at him, shaking Sero off him. As he knew two of his closest friends well enough to understand that they would pester you and bombard you with thousands of questions, he took matters into his own hands by grabbing your forearm and leading you out of the office.

Ignoring Kirishima and Sero’s shouts behind him as well as the stares he received from his receptionists, Bakugou led you out of the building and back to the streets. You looked down at where Bakugou was holding you, his hand still warm under his gloves. It was the first time a human had touched you.

Once he could confirm that his friends weren’t behind him following him, Bakugou let go of you, keeping his distance but still walking beside you. He looked off to the side, not wanting you to see his inflamed face. “I’ll walk you back to the dock. It’s not safe for you here.”

You smiled at him. “I appreciate your concern but you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been amongst humans like this before.”

“Just… let me do this for you, alright?” Bakugou urged gently.

Regardless you nodded, smiling to yourself. Humans were more interesting than they had seemed before, or at least Bakugou was in a league of his own. You wanted to know everything about him, you wanted to constantly be around him, and he was all that was on your mind lately. You were slowly understanding that what you were feeling for him was crossing the line from friendship to something more and it frightened you. All your life you had known humans to be vile, selfish creatures who would do anything for their own gain. But here you were walking beside the most considerate man you’d ever met, exceeding the mermen of your kingdom in both looks and personality.

But as much as you liked him, you didn’t want to pry any further. He was still a human and you were a ruler of a kingdom. You had decided to end things here, savoring and basking in the moment as much as you could until you had to finally cut all ties with Bakugou. And you knew when that moment would arrive, you wouldn’t be able to recover for a while. You had spent almost every evening with him on that dock, your special place with him, talking for hours upon hours. You liked how flustered he would get whenever you complimented his looks or how proud he seemed when he spoke about his occupation and passion. You could hear him talk, even if he was just cursing someone out, all day long. But soon enough, you would never hear from him again.

You shook your head, wanting to rid your mind of such saddening thoughts, deciding to change the subject instead. “Is it okay to leave your friends like that?”

“They’ll live. Your secret is more important right now,” Bakugou said, not realizing how touched you had been by his words. He truly had every intention of keeping your identity a secret and the more you were around him, the more you were falling for him. This was slowly becoming a dangerous situation, but you didn’t care, not in the moment at least.

You looked down at your feet as the two of you made your way back to the dock, the amount of people around you decreasing as you got closer. And the closer you got, the more despondent you became as you realized this was the last moment you would have with him.

“What’s wrong?” Bakugou asked, snapping you away from your thoughts.

You looked up at him abruptly, his scarlet eyes penetrating right through your soul and being. You smiled reassuringly. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Bakugou looked over at you, deciding to drop the subject once the two of you finally reached the dock.

As you grew closer, a blonde man who you didn’t recognize stood on the dock, looking around the area. He was particularly looking down into the water, directly above your kingdom. You felt your heart stop as you began to become frantic that your home was found.

Bakugou extended his arm in front of you, ceasing your footsteps as you moved to confront the man. “Don’t go. You’ll get in danger. I’ll deal with him.” You looked at Bakugou, who had an expression you had never seen. He was calm and yet his nostrils were flared. You knew he was livid.

Bakugou trudged towards the man, infuriated to see Monoma poking his nose where he didn’t belong. “The fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

Monoma smirked, looking beyond Bakugou’s shoulder to see you, staring you up and down and intently at your legs. You felt disgusted by his gaze, wanting to jump back into the water as soon as possible.

Monoma flicked his gaze back to Bakugou. “The rumors are that you’ve got a girlfriend which is why you’ve been slacking off recently. So I followed you over here a few days ago to see that you’ve got a mermaid by your side now. Even more interesting…” His voice trailed off and he smirked at you as you grimaced under his stare. “She looks exactly like a human.”

He let out a bellowing laugh, exasperating Bakugou even more than he already did with his presence alone. “It’d be a shame if more people found out about this…”

Bakugou didn’t hesitate or think twice to grab Monoma by the collar, his fingers curling against the fabric as uncontrollable sparks emerged from both hands. “If you even think about opening your trap up about this I’ll rip you apart limb from fucking limb.”

Although Monoma wouldn’t admit it, he was slightly intimidated by Bakugou’s threat, but even more so he found this whole situation to have been a stroke of luck. He knew exactly what he had to do. Monoma brought his hand up, grabbing Bakugou’s forearm that was clutching his collar. “Tell you what, I’ll let this whole thing go. If I’m being honest,” his eyes whipped over to you, causing a shiver to go down your spine, “I really don’t give a damn about you and your fish people. That’s the last thing I care about. I’ll let this all go… on one condition.”

“Spit it out, you bitch, you’re testing my patience,” Bakugou snarled through gritted teeth.

Monoma chuckled humorlessly, smirking at you once more. You felt disgusted and defeated all at once. You had promised your people that this was a time for peace, that you wouldn’t let the humans that you hated so much ruin anything for you and your kingdom. And here was a human threatening the life of Coara like the lives of the mermaids and mermen meant nothing and were replaceable.

You wanted to despise humans as much as you had before, but you couldn’t. Not when Bakugou was a human as well.

“I’ll let this go… if you give up your ranking.” Monoma laughed once more, feeling Bakugou’s grip loosen from the shock.

Bakugou had worked day and night, protecting civilians left and right and defeating any villain that came his way to be number one. Even you understood this as Bakugou had explained hero rankings and how hard he worked. You could see he was a respectable man who would do anything to show others his worth. And here was a spineless bastard trying to rip it all away from Bakugou.

Monoma shook Bakugou’s hand from him, smirking cruelly at him. “You see, I know you won’t give up your ranking for some rotten fish. Either way, I’m going to enjoy watching your little girlfriend’s life crumble before your very eyes--”

Before Monoma could yap and run his mouth more than he already had, Bakugou sent a right hook flying, contacting Monoma’s jaw and pummeling him to the floor of the wooden dock. You gasped, not suspecting him to do that, and took a few steps towards him. He turned his head at you, raising his hand to stop you from getting closer. He didn’t know what Monoma would do to you just to spite him. You felt hopeless, wanting to help Bakugou and your people were still in the back of your mind. What was the right thing to do in this situation? What could you do?

Monoma spit the blood out from his mouth, wiping his bloodied lip and rose to his feet. He cackled once more. “I knew you were too much of a coward to do--”

“I’ll do it,” Bakugou said in one breath, causing you and Monoma to be appalled.

“Bakugou! Don’t do it!” You called out in concern. You would do anything for your people but not at the expense of years of hard work Bakugou had put in.

Bakugou ignored you momentarily. “I’ll give it up, my ranking. But if you take back your work I’ll fucking--”

Monoma rose a hand up in the air to cease his threats. “Don’t worry about that, I don’t give a damn about you or your girlfriend.” He extended his hand out at Bakugou, grinning in absolute delight. “We have a deal?”

Bakugou stared at his pale hand, his own fists clenching at his sides. Even so, he didn’t hesitate to shake hands with his nemesis, gripping his hand as tightly as he could. Monoma winced, wriggling his hand from Bakugou’s hold and rubbing it once he got free. Monoma laughed once more, walking past Bakugou and towards you. You stepped to the side, wanting to avoid him at all costs. He looked down at you, smirking. “For some rotten fish, you’re pretty hot.”

You wanted to puke from anger and disgust, staring daggers into his back as he walked away with delight and glee. Monoma waved his hand back. “I’ll send the paperwork to your office tonight, Ground Zero.”

Once he was a considerable distance from you, you ran towards Bakugou, joining him on the dock. “Why did you do that? Why would you give your ranking up?”

Bakugou sighed, looking down at the water and the boulders that you always sat upon during your frequent meetings. He slipped his gloves, boots, and socks off, sitting on the edge of the dock and dipping his feet into the water. You watched as he did so, not understanding his silence. Nonetheless, you joined him, slipping off the sandals Alicia made you and sitting right beside him. This was the closest the two of you had ever physically been.

“It didn’t feel right,” Bakugou said, avoiding your eye contact. “It’s my fucking fault that dipshit found out. I couldn’t just walk away knowing that I was putting you in danger.”

You smiled softly, shaking your head. “I’ve dealt with idiots like him before. I would’ve been fine. But you worked so hard to get where you are now.”

Bakugou turned to face you, his eyes just as intense as they always were. “You don’t get it. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you. A ranking is a fucking ranking. I know I’m the best, that fucknut weaseled his way into becoming the new number one now. But your life means more to me than that.”

You were astonished, blown away by his selflessness. But Bakugou didn’t recognize his actions as being selfless as he continued blaming himself for putting your life in danger. And you recognized this by his hurt expression as he was physically grimacing. You smiled, lifting your hand up and cupping his cheek. Your palms were cold against Bakugou’s cheek, sending tingles down his spine, but your fingertips held the softest touch. “You’re amazing, Bakugou. This isn’t your fault. I don’t blame you, not even a little bit. I chose to see you everyday, I could’ve just stayed in my palace if I didn’t want to see you. But I came here because I like being around you.”

Bakugou stared at you, basking in your beauty. He had never met anyone like you as you were truly a one of kind being. You were tenderhearted, a leader, ambitious, and driven for others. Bakugou knew by now that he had no control over his feelings for you, not giving a damn about the consequences. He wanted to hold you, protect you against anyone who would even think of harming you.

“Do you regret being with me? Do you regret meeting with a human that could harm your people?” Bakugou questioned.

You shook your head, not hesitating to answer immediately. “There isn’t a fiber in me that feels that way. Being with you has given me faith in humanity.” You took back your thoughts earlier, knowing full well you couldn’t abandon him now, not when he protected you.

Bakugou nodded. “Alright. Then don’t mind when I do this.”

Before you could let the words ‘do what?’ escape from your lips, Bakugou closed the gap between the two of you, gently locking your lips with his own. It was a pleasant surprise, making you realize that humans were softer than they seemed. He smelled of burnt sugar, locking in how sweet he truly was. He was gentle despite how caustic he seemed to others. But you knew him, you had spent months with him, and you had no intention of letting him go now.

You pulled away, your chest rising and falling slowly. He was beautiful, more beautiful than you could ever describe into words. You were willing to go off the deep end for him, the stunning human who risked his career for your life. And you had no intention of leaving him.

#bnha bookclub #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsukibakugou #bakugo #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo #katsuki #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero imagines

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rallamajoop · 4 years ago

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A few rambling notes on my Witcher WIP list

Witcher fandom has done something to me, I do not know what. I have more different fics in progress (mostly Geralt/Regis or Geralt/Yennefer/Regis) in various open word documents than I have had in years – most of them short, and (even excluding the 3 I’ve already posted) several already somewhere in the basically done pending final edits/betaing/the inevitable 3-day debate over how to title and summarise this bastard-stage. That is some pretty atyptical productivity by my usual standards; we’ll have to see how it lasts.

More to the point, something about this fandom has me churning out these weird mix-and-match ficlets. Like, I have the beginnings of a Geralt/Regis/Yennefer sequel to a (as yet unposted) Geralt/Regis ficlet about a post-B&W-spontaneous-drunken-hook-up – but it made sense to me to just kind of avoid mentioning the status of the whole Geralt/Yennefer relationship during that initial drunken-hook-up fic, so that anyone who’d rather take it as a standalone from a ‘verse where Geralt and Yen never got back together can. In fact, there are already two different versions of that drunken-hook-up fic (preliminary titles: ‘happy-drunk-sex’ and ‘angsty-drunk-sex’), picking up from the different possible B&W endings, and either of them could theoretically lead into that G/R/Y sequel (or not). And then I found myself going, okay, but is it even really necessary to specify which angsty-B&W ending this is, given that there’s no outcome where everyone lives and Regis doesn’t leave – so you can have Geralt sitting there second-guessing all his choices little realising he’d be sitting there feeling almost exactly the same regardless of what those choices were? How can I resist that?

And so on. I mean, congratulations if you even managed to follow all the above – hopefully I’m going to find some better way of explaining it all in the fics themselves.

Now, the obvious excuse would be that playing choose-your-own-adventure is only what the games do, so perhaps it’s natural to carry the same logic into fic. Only problem being that I’ve already landed myself in the same boat with book-verse fic, given how I’m already telling people From the Wisdom of Bards can be taken as a sequel to the less-cracktastic A Decent Proposition, but could also just be a standalone thing if that’s what works better for you (and it may well do).

And lest you suppose that one might be an isolated case, there’s also this little Yennefer/Regis-“heeeeyyyy, what if Regis knew Yennefer from years before he ever met Geralt, and just never got around to mentioning it“-backstory fic I have started writing (look, I am determined to make this OT3 work even if I have to build that missing leg from scratch). It could feed directly into a post-B&W sequel where Yen and Regis finally get around to mentioning all this to Geralt – or it could be a prequel to that other book!verse AU I have planned-but-not-started, which is basically a retelling of A Shard of Ice only where the old flame Yennefer’s involved with on the side is Regis instead of Istredd and instead of her breaking it off with both of them, it ends in an OT3.

Figuring out how to sort all this nonsense into series on AO3 is going to be a hoot, seriously.

Then again, this is also the point where the savvier reader is probably saying, “joop, this is nothing you haven’t been doing for years – remember that old Cable/Deadpool teen AU that went even more AU because you were having too much fun to pick just one option? Or that Venom fic you eventually posted as a five-things scenario? All you needed was the excuse.” – and would probably be right.

(Leftover fic ideas that I have not found an excuse to mention yet because they are less complicated: that one crackfic where Geralt has to deal with the fact that not only has he just had an ill-considered drunken one-night-stand with Dandelion, but Dandelion is now trying to write a ballad about it, and a Discworld AU probably-also-crackfic where Regis is a black-ribboner and Geralt is a grumpy magical exterminator – because honestly I feel like The Witcher and Discworld’s senses of humour blend much better than they get credit for, and let’s face it, ‘exterminator’ is basically what Geralt’s job description becomes the moment you stick him anywhere half as modern as Ankh-Morpork. Oh, and that one Amnesia!Geralt/Regis fic my beta is looking at now.)

In short, I am having way too much fun with this fandom, and we may have to just wait and see how many of these do actually get written and/or posted (I mean, let’s be realistic here: my record for clearing out any fannish to-do list is no better than anyone’s).

Still, if anyone would like to try and nudge me towards one or another of all those potential WIPs, rest assured that replies and tags do always get noticed around these parts.

#geregis #yennefer #regis #geralt of rivia #dandelion #fic #the witcher #oh the joy of figuring out how to tag for an OT3 maybe noone else ships

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pleasefeedthebirds · 4 years ago

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A Relatively Deep Dive Into My “Crème de la Crème” MCs - #1. Mavis Linnet

(From the astonishingly crisp interactive fiction by @hpowellsmith! ...It’s not weird to tag, right?)

Mavis “Miss Linnet” Mallee-Linnet

she/her/hers

Light brown complexion and loosely curled brown hair

Favors conventionally masculine fashion

Accommodating

Manipulative

Traditional

Exceptional Poise

Noteworthy Wit and Intrigue

Commonplace Spirit

Unremarkable Flair

LOADS more info and spoiler content under the cut!

I envision Mavis as having grown up in a wealthy household, where she was still raised reasonably well about the importance of non-profligate spending. Her parents both taught at Olmstead’s Valley School, where she was in attendance for the bulk of her college-age years. Sailing was manageablely smooth. Mavis got along well in her studies, had time for both dressage and lacrosse, and—for her genuine interest in the subject matter—made it on the good side of many educators there (albeit not as often her fellow students, being for all the world their definition of a teacher’s pet!).

Her life took an abrupt shift in its trajectory when Mr. Mallee, her father, had a shameful affair come to light. Their rural community was small enough that such a thing made waves. Her other father, Mr. Linnet, sent Mavis off to Gallatin with the still-favorable Linnet name, and spent a pretty penny to do so. Primarily, he did this to save her from suffering by association, and was very vocal about these intentions. He’s definitely also relying on her to save their social standing, and despite the point being markedly unspoken, Mavis quietly understands.

So, Mavis feels an immense pressure to make the most of her time at Gallatin. She tries to conform unfalteringly to the school’s every long-winded social expectation, which exhausts her utterly. However, by her proficiency in book research, and her sincere knack for studying people, she has grown excellent at “playing the game” in high society.

More than ever, Mavis is dedicated to her studies at Gallatin, even when the prescribed syllabus is less than stimulating. She keeps her head down so to never risk rocking the boat. This mode of being doesn’t make her happy per say, but the Gallatin atmosphere has her shoehorned into believing there’s no feasible alternative. She’s cognizant of surface level flaws in the system, but plays along because she thinks she has to. After all, it’s her way out of rural smallmindedness and into an academic world. That said, things certainly can change, particularly when one can’t help but notice atrocities being committed against literal children!

5’10”, with broad shoulders but slender hips. Her body makes an upside-down triangle shape.

Prone to acne, her skincare routines are extensive, and she’s usually up at the crack of dawn every day to get her proverbial ducks in a row.

Her hair is thinner than it looks, and she takes especial care when rationing it about her scalp. She feels vulnerable with it all the way down, so favors hair styles with low centers, such as looped pigtails, a nape bun, or double braids. Also labors to hide her considerable widow’s peak.

A heavy tea drinker. For all of her wits, she doesn’t realize that her mug o’ choice (earl grey) is highly caffeinated. She slugs the stuff down each day without ever realizing, because it “makes her feel better” about mornings.

Though it’s hardly polite, she LOVES gossip, and writes down every secret she hears as her guiltiest pleasure.

Miss Dalca and Mr. Griffith both make her uncomfortable—the former for her extreme progressiveness, and the latter for his gruff demeanor. Mr. Blanchard is her favorite teacher, and I bet she’s accidentally cried in his presence before. She’s scared of Lady Renaldt, and makes herself known to the headmaster only out of necessity.

Virtue: 91%

Popularity: 75%

Coursework Grade: A

Exam Mark: A+

Extracurricular(s): Birchmeier Society and the Gallatin Swans (goalkeeper)

*[Though not doable ingame, I like to think that she overloaded her schedule and dropped the Swans halfway through the semester. Mavis is never the type to drop anything, so having to take that step back was a double-edged blow to her confidence, in addition to being a sheer relief on her stress levels. Since the Birchmeier Society was where her heart truly lay, she managed to build herself back up there with Freddie’s support.]

Entanglements: Romantically engaged to Freddie.

Besties and then some with Freddie. They’re both hardworking scholars with each their own zest for learning, and by preparing for classes, exams, and Birchmeier Society biz in the same shared spaces, Mavis spent disproportionately more time with her than with anyone else. Freddie encouraged Mavis to be a bit less hard on herself, and was brave enough to stand up to her whenever Mavis’s fatigue was turning her curmudgeonly. Mavis helped get Freddie out of her own head on multiple occasions, taught her to break the most overwhelming situations down to deal with day-by-day, and bolstered her confidence anytime it faltered in the face of the Gallatin sphere. The engagement was Mavis’s idea, which she accidentally blurted out in a rare impulsive burst of feeling. After processing the implications, she was ashamed to have second thoughts upon remembering Freddie’s financial situation. It seemed for a while that the engagement was off, following a hard conversation that soured their relationship for awhile. I don’t think Freddie would easily bounce back after having her family standing scrutinized. However, the mine plot—when Mavis had to ultimately turn her back on everything she’d built at Gallatin—spurred character development enough that Freddie deemed her worthy of a second chance.

Friends with Gonzalez, who couldn’t help but respect that Mavis was competent in lacrosse, academically accomplished, and generally pretty nice to people. I don’t think she realizes that Mavis keeps a stiff mask. Mavis found Gonzalez refreshing, albeit off-puttingly honest, and couldn’t find a way to fault her spirited nature. I can’t imagine them engaging much off of the field (i.e. post Mavis quitting the team), but the two were mutually supportive in their interactions, even if Mavis was probably repressing some criticisms of Gonzalez’s fast and loose attitude all the while.

Friends with Max after he tutored her in flair, per Lady Renaldt’s instruction, via a sick dance sesh. I like to imagine him groaning about the task, assuming that Mavis would be a hopeless case, and then being pleasantly surprised at the fact that she can absolutely hit it (even just in the name of compliance with authority). He tried to make a move on her and was politely rejected. I think he supports the idea of her at a distance after recognizing that she’s not trying to breathe down anyone’s neck, and really is a kind, tired gal being squeezed dry by the system.

Friends with Hartmann, who was initially confused about which “side” Mavis was on in her prefectural feud with Max (Mavis shushed him at the opening commencement, which she liked, yet supported Max when he dipped out the common room window). They came to understand each other in the later game, bonding over how ill-affected they both are by the pressures of their respective positions. They don’t “hang out” much, but a couple of key deep conversations put each in the other’s good books.

Pleasant acquaintances with Karson. Mavis rarely went out of her way to talk to them, but whenever they crossed paths, she was good to Karson, and sympathized (albeit at a respectable distance) with their situation as a servant. When trouble in the mines was first coming to light, Mavis got sniffing, and sussed out enough clues that Karson eventually passed Blaise’s note on to her directly, trusting her moral compass enough to do so.

Unpleasant acquaintances with Delacroix. His unconventional take on life, passion for the intangible, and apathy towards collegiate procedure all make her uneasy. In his own right, Delacroix probably takes her for a stuffy, self-centered dud, which after all the times she’s reflexively shut his occult talk down, is pretty fair.

Acquaintances with Blaise. Mavis made nice in the early game because she had to, and was secretly relieved when she “resigned.” This was short lived, and turned into a misplaced sense of guilt after what actually happened to Blaise came to light. Mavis didn’t end up in the mines herself, but she did everything she could to help her, Miss Dalca, and eventually Gonzalez escape. When all was said and done, Blaise still made Mavis uncomfortable, and she let her be to get on with her life.

Approached Rosario at the punch table in an attempt to court the princess in the room… absolutely blew it. Ended up tripping over her own tongue when she realized that the heir is not so predictably wooed by traditional measures as originally anticipated. I like to think of that moment as a point of deeper connection for Mavis and Freddie, where both were totally overwhelmed by the noble sphere at Archambault and turned to each other for comfort. Otherwise, Rosario was a Rosari-no for Mavis.

Was weirded out by Auguste. Mavis fears any authority figures who don’t like her right away, and they’re too close to the ever-frigid Lady Renaldt for her comfort. She did totally trash them (benevolently) at dressage on sports day, though.

Gave Florin the widest possible berth. Mavis wanted nothing to do with that kind of scandal, but definitely found her shallowly cute.

Some Choice Plot Pieces (cue spoilers):

Gathered evidence against Miss Dalca in compliance with Lady Renaldt.

Had an adequate working relationship with Miss Benton.

Gathered information for Annick against Lady Renaldt.

Endgame (cue SUPER spoilers):

Worked in secret against Lady Renaldt.

Sent Gonzalez to the mines, but most everyone got out (I believe Miss Dalca died?!).

Settled things quietly with Kathrili Burgin.

Went on to study at Gessner.

Joined Freddie for the summer.

#creme de la creme #mavis linnet #if ref #choice of games

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starbuck · 5 years ago

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Terror Notes: “Go For Broke”

well… I guess I’m really doing this! Some proper, bullet-pointed notes for each episode of The Terror, starting with ep 1: Go For Broke!

I wrote these out last night (and edited them this morning to make them readable - you’re welcome!) so I hope that y’all enjoy my thoughts and assorted nonsense! I tried to save my comments for points I actually wanted to make because I feel like they bring something to the table but I still ended up writing A Lot lol

I love that Crozier couldn’t even be bothered to be present in welcoming Sir John and Fitzjames onto Terror, making Little and Hodgson do it by themselves. One could argue that he had important captain-y things to be doing at that time or something but I’m not 100% sure that wasn’t the case.

idk if it’s just the angle, but I paused the episode just as the shot of the officer’s mess is coming in from above and Hodgson’s hands make me so uncomfortable. They look so bone-y and weird. (Just what you came here for, I know. Hand commentary.)

Cannot tell you how uncomfortable it is, after many rewatches, to listen to Fitzjames recounting in a casual, lighthearted manner 1) shooting people 2) people catching fire (and burning to death), and 3) their burning flesh smelling “like roast duck” (so, like something edible) and it’s even more uncomfortable to have the closeup be on Hodgson’s face as he laughs at the ‘roast duck’ comparison.

On a lighter note: I love that Fitzjames felt the need to remind everyone what size cherries are by illustrating it with his fingers. In case they forgot, I guess? As someone who occasionally speaks unnecessarily with my hands, big mood tbh.

I LOVE it when Fitzjames gives Little that affirmative tap on the arm after he compares Fitzjames’s injury to Lord Nelson’s. My friend Eli and I refer to it as The Fitzjames Arm Tap. I would like a Fitzjames Arm Tap, pretty please.

God, Sir John loudly setting his hands on the table to try to dispel the tension from the ‘birdshit island’ debacle as he attempts to change the subject is so funny. I’m gonna stop just pointing out things I find funny soon, I swear, but I just cannot handle this scene.

Between Hodgson looking horrifically embarrassed by Crozier’s outburst at Fitzjames and Little looking nervous when Crozier shoots him a look as Sir John says that there’s no reason to be concerned about the ice, it really does seem that they were having to ‘manage’ him even back in ep 1 when his alcoholism wasn’t completely out of hand.

Personal sidenote about this: My Pop-pop is often rude to workers in stores and restaurants (he doesn’t drink thank goodness but he has Alzheimer’s coming on which has worsened his temper) so I very much understand the feeling of being on-edge that an outburst is going to occur and trying to deal with the fallout when it does. Just going by my own experience, I can imagine Little apologizing to Fitzjames for Crozier’s rudeness as soon as they were out of Crozier’s earshot (not that anything Little could say would heal the deep psychological wound that Crozier created but hey, it’s something).

The way that Sir John brushes aside Dr. MacDonald’s and Crozier’s concerns about moving Young when he’s in such bad shape never fails to upset me but also ~foreshadowing for hauling the ill on boats oooohhh~

I said I was done pointing out random things that amuse me but the speed and agility with which Des Voeux pops out of the hatch and onto the deck after Orren falls into the water is just so funny. I could watch that two second clip on repeat all day. Might gif it so I actually can.

Is this a good time to point out that there’s also a scene in Moby-Dick where someone falls from high up on a mast and drowns? It’s in a chapter all about bad omens experienced by the crew of the Pequod and The Terror definitely has some similar vibes going on with the sun dogs displayed in the establishing shot of Erebus in that scene and David Young, a “warning of things to come,” on his way over.

The second(?) time I watched the part where Young tells Stanley that he didn’t think anything of getting headaches since he’s always gotten them, I had this thought pass through my head that was like “oh god, I had chronic migraines for years so I’d never have known if I had lead poisoning either!” but then I realized that this probably was not a relevant concern I should have.

Not sure I have any deep commentary on this but as Gore informs Sir John and Fitzjames about the blocked propeller, he’s standing in the same spot, in the same room as Goodsir will stand next episode to tell them about his death.

Also regarding this scene, I love how Gore waits for Fitzjames to give him the go-ahead to leave before actually going. I know that Fitzjames is his superior officer too but, since Sir John already dismissed him, it seems like waiting for Fitzjames’s approval isn’t really necessary, yet a nice thing to do. Perhaps this is a legitimate formality, but something similar happens later in this episode in the command meeting when Crozier asks Gore how many sun dogs he’s seen; he looks to Fitzjames and waits for his nod before answering Crozier. He doesn’t look to Sir John, he looks to Fitzjames. I know that we know essentially nothing about Gore but like.. underrated ship???? Just saying…

Ten nights ago, I was unable to get to sleep for at least an hour because I started thinking about David Young’s saying “I want to go to my grave as I am” and, of course, that ultimately doesn’t happen for him but also, this, like all things about him, is a “warning of things to come.” I’m pretty sure that no one else was properly buried until, arguably, Fitzjames and ironically, that was explicitly not what he wanted done with his body (and, since his grave was later looted by Hickey, similar to the way that Young’s autopsy ultimately achieved nothing, it didn’t really matter anyway).

I know that this happened exactly ten days ago because I forced myself to wake up and write it down in my notes app, lest I forget, which only prolonged my sleeplessness. I suffer for my analysis.

Ah yesssss Tozer’s lesbian haircut. We love it! Why does my hair not look like that when I take a hat off? I’d like to file a complaint.

Was just thinking the other day about how Hartnell being the one to notice that there was something up with the ice in ep 1 is followed up on with Blanky complimenting Hartnell’s ability to read the ice to Crozier in ep 7. I wonder if Blanky ever gave him like. ice-reading lessons after becoming aware of his interest and natural talent at it in ep 1? That makes me happy to think about.

The two people who we’re shown awoken by Young’s screaming are Sgt. Bryant and Morfin and like. Do I even have to explain why that’s an Oof?

The way that Goodsir hesitates before knocking on Stanley’s door and Stanley irritatedly closing his book before answering the knock in an exasperated voice would be comedic in any other context. If I’m being honest, it still makes me laugh. As does Stanley’s “As if that weren’t plain.”

I’ve pointed this out before but mmmmm... that shot of Stanley in profile with the open candle flame in the background… the foreshadowing in this ep is thicker than the smoke at… Oh alright, I’ll stop.

God, the autopsy/dive scene…. Collins being lowered down and entering the water paralleled with Goodsir’s initial cutting into Young’s corpse, the breaking up of the ice paralleled with the cutting of the bone-saw. But most significant to me is the parallel of what is seen/not seen and the long-term effect that this has. Collins sees Orren’s corpse (and then presumably never tells anyone about it), reinforcing his guilt over Orren’s death, the beginning of his mental health decline. Goodsir doesn’t see the cause of Young’s death in his autopsy and this not knowing about the lead poisoning until it’s too late to do anything about it is the cause of many of Goodsir’s later problems as well. And, to finish it all off, both the autopsy and Collins’ dive were ultimately for nothing (considering a spinning propeller is useless when your ships are frozen in).

Crozier and Blanky’s simultaneous face journeys as Sir John rambles on about how there’s nothing to worry about and they’ll find the passage any day now are truly legendary.

I wrote some pretty extensive tags on this already but man… Crozier’s comment about how not all of Sir John’s men returned from one of his previous arctic expeditions is just so nasty and awful. Like, yes, Sir John is wrong to undersell the danger they’re in and Crozier is advocating for the correct position here, but that was completely uncalled for and horrible to say, particularly in a command meeting, in front of so many people. And Sir John looks legitimately upset by it too. He gets over it quickly, at least on the outside, but I still feel really bad for him (and I NEVER feel bad for Sir John so this is weird for me).

“But of course we will not be abandoning Erebus, or Terror…” Let’s check back in six episodes and see how that’s going!

Crozier slamming his fist on the table to prove he’s not being melodramatic reminds me of this one post (that I sadly can’t find rn) about Jesus Christ Superstar that’s like “‘CUT OUT THE DRAMATICS’ Judas hollered dramatically.” It’s such an Overall Mood.

I don’t have a developed commentary on this at the moment but it’s an interesting reverse-parallel that Sir John had no concern for Young’s well-being when he was alive, ignoring Crozier’s concerns about moving him from ship-to-ship when he was in such poor health, yet now that he’s dead, Sir John is the one to recommend that Young be buried which Crozier is surprised by, and seems to feel is unnecessary.

There’s been so much amazing commentary already made about Young’s burial scene so I’ll skip it except to say that Hickey’s irritated sigh when he hears footsteps coming towards the grave is SO funny. That’s exactly how I feel when I know that someone is about to tell me something that will annoy me.

Goodsir was really getting into the emotion of Sir John’s “eulogy”/motivational speech before he remembered the promise he made about Young’s ring. Also, what triggered his memory was Sir John saying “We shall earn our loved one’s cheers and embraces,” so no doubt a reminder of the traumatic “Your loved ones will be there in Heaven to welcome you! :)” “I never knew my mother or father” exchange (or maybe just a reminder of the fact that he was supposed to get Young’s ring to his sister but just let me scrape a little humor out of this. God knows I need it).

The shot of Bryant praying in his hammock the night before they get completely frozen-in is honestly deeply upsetting to me. Especially considering he’s a marine so he Did Not Ask To Be Here, yet there he’ll die.

According to Melville, ship’s compasses occasionally spun round-and-round when a ship was caught in a severe storm and this was an incredibly upsetting thing to behold because of how disorienting it was. So, considering that, Fitzjames keeps his composure pretty well but he clearly has some reservations about how things are going and Sir John has no comforting-sounding remark about ‘Magnetic North’ to offer him now.

The bit where Sir John “sees” Crozier, on Terror, turn away from him with a half-smirk on his face is interesting because there’s no way he could have possibly seen Crozier’s expression at that distance and I’m doubtful that he’d even have been able to make out the identity of anyone he might have been able to see on Terror’s deck. So really, it speaks mostly to Sir John’s mental state; his seeing their getting frozen in as a loss against Crozier and imagining that Crozier would see it as a victory for himself.

Ugh the final shot is making me think about @catilinas’s post comparing a shot of the two ships stuck in to the shot of the ink drops from ep 3 and I am LOSING IT but I was losing it anyway because it’s 2AM now and my entire body feels like gelatin.

THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT!

SEE YOU NEXT TIME!

#the terror #i'm REALLY proud of these!! this was so fun to do!#i definitely intend to do this for each episode #no promises for the timing on that but i legitimately have nothing better to do so lol hopefully ep 2 will happen soon!#hope y'all enjoyyyyyyyy #feel free to add comments if you like or you don't have to! whatever is good - i just appreciate anybody slogging through this lol

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askaceattorney · 5 years ago

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Dear Starry,

Phoenix, more than likely, will forever be single. Be that because of his burn with the whole Iris/Dahlia thing or him just being too busy being a dad to everyone under his roof or something else entirely, he’s a single father through and through.

Phoenix’s capacity for love extends beyond romance to this intense care for everyone around him. He would throw himself in front of a car or steal a boat to pilot it to the middle of the ocean for one of his friends. The man is altruistic to a fault, even getting disbarred for a man he met the day before because he was his client. That’s nothing in the face of trying to run across a burning bridge to save Maya or becoming a lawyer at all to try and save Edgeworth. Maybe Phoenix won’t have a romantic interest ever, but that’s not to say he doesn’t have plenty of love. That could even be the reason. He’s not going to put anyone above anyone else when he has such strong bonds.

-The Mod

Co-Mod: Well said, The Mod! Good to see you here again. I don’t have anything to add to that response except that Phoenix seems to be more focused on his work and friendships than his love life. It might not sit well with his daughter, but a man has to have his priorities.

Dear Anthony,

Obviously the most rumor stirring first kiss would be with Charley, as he is waaaaay out of Apollo’s league. The sender would not matter as it would likely end in Apollo himself being blamed and berated for making up such false claims in an attempt to ruin the pristine reputation of that fine slender palm lily. Coincidentally, this would also be the most chaotic.

-The Mod

Co-Mod: The most chaotic scenario involving a letter to Apollo that comes to my mind is one from Ms. Tiala. It’d be the perfect way for her to get revenge on him for not living down to her standards, and might even start rumors between the more gullible members of the WAA (Athena and Trucy) that the two of them are in cahoots.

The most chaotic situation overall that I can think of is an ultimatum from Athena to Phoenix, stating that she refuses to do any more lawyer business unless Trucy finds another lovely assistant. That one might even come to blows.

(Previous Letter)

Dear Inferno,

Co-Mod: I have to agree. I’m honestly starting to wish it was a real show now. I bet there’s a fortune to be made with it.

(Video in Letter -- Epilepsy Warning)

Dear Starry again,

Co-Mod: That’s a work of art right there. I especially liked how all the defendants are lined up at the end, followed by all the culprits. Here’s a great big Co-Mod Seal of Approval for it:

And don’t ask how hyperlinks are supposed to work on paper. I’d just as soon explain how Widget’s software works.

(Previous Posts)

(Previous Letter)

Dear yuesworld,

Co-Mod: I sure do! Great to hear from you again! And congratulations on translating over 1000 letters (and thank you)!

I’m also glad to hear that you’ve been able to glean so much good stuff from this blog, and that goes for everyone else that applies to. I’ve said this before, but one of the greatest achievements for a comedian, whether on a blog or somewhere else, is helping people with negative feelings replace them with positive ones. I’m no stranger to depression myself, so I know how great it feels to leave it behind.

And for those of you who think that I and the other new Mods aren’t as good as The Mod..........well, you’re probably right, but that’s hardly a fair comparison. He’s been at this way longer than we have.

I’m glad your friend liked the response to their letter. I always like when a letter gets deeply emotional or nostalgic, so I try to respond with the same level of emotion, whether it’s joyful, sad, bittersweet, or a different emotion. That’s one of the things that makes these characters so relatable, after all.

And needless to say, I’m very glad that people from around the world have been able to find some connection in their love for Ace Attorney. Thank goodness for both this series and the internet! And thank you again for your contribution to it.

Dear mungeondaster,

Co-Mod: I don’t remember anything in the games that answers those questions, but I can imagine Athena driving a used car whenever she needs to, as someone who enjoys travel more than the others (as mentioned in this letter). I can also see Apollo driving something, but according to the Mod’s headcanon, he bikes everywhere, and I’m not one to question that.

This of course means everyone else has to carpool with Athena or Edgeworth in order to get anywhere by car. You can probably guess which one they’d go with.

Dear Curious Lassy,

Co-Mod: I’ve been dealing with some mild illness (not coronavirus, thankfully), but I’m doing okay. Thanks for asking!

The rule against roleplaying, as I’ve interpreted it, means that you can’t pretend a character in your letter is in the same physical location as the character you’re writing to, or have them physically interact with them (patting their shoulder, punching them, etc.). As long your post can be interpreted as a written letter in some way, I won’t count it as roleplaying. I admit it’s sort of a stretch with letters that include avatars, but I prefer to be liberal with those. I can also be tempted to break the rule if a letter is clever enough, as in this recent one, or this one from a couple years ago.

I could be talked into using a tag for those letters, depending on what you had in mind -- was it something general like an “Avatar” tag, or the specific game, “Fate/Grand Order”? The first one we could do, but I’d rather not to use the names of non-Ace Attorney games in the tags. There’s no way we could keep up with them all.

(Previous Letter)

Dear Andrea,

Co-Mod: That was me. My bad.

I wasn’t expecting anyone to find anything that likable about the Phantom (or my portrayal of him), so thanks for that.

Dear...Co-Mod?

Co-Mod: But...But I don’t..........

Well, I guess I can’t argue with myself. Nice knowing you, folks!

-The Mods

P. S. Stay healthy, everyone! Safety first.

#Anonymous #iamnotthensa #ajanisapprentice #doveofthedawn #yuesworld #mungeondaster #Curious Lassy #rootingforthevillains #Mod Post #The Mod #Co Mod

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hergan416 · 5 years ago

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First line meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 15 stories. See if there are any patterns. Then tag your favorite authors!

I was tagged by @touchmycoat and I will pass this on to anyone who wants to do it. Even if I don't follow you, or you don't think I mean you, I mean you if you think this sounds fun. Feel free to tag me so I can see what you learn!

About formatting--I am considering each chapter in the fic "Thirty One Days" a unique chapter for the purposes of this meme, as they are written to be loosely connected one shots.

I am using both of my pseuds to better get a picture of my writing history, so if you end up looking up my yugiomo pseud...know that there WILL be omorashi and consider this your warning. If you do not know what this is, and are over 18, use urban dictionary or something.

Astonishingly, all of the first lines of all of the fics are tumblr safe. Horray. Most of the fics aren't. If you look up any fics, PLEASE pay attention to the ratings on AO3, and any content warnings.

Patterns: Every. Single. One. Of my new (2019 holiday season forward) fics starts with the name of a person and a paragraph. This paragraph immediately sets up the person's thoughts. Previously, I had begun fics with much more action, often with dialog, or specific thoughts or actions. "Keijo!!!!!" was sitting in my drafts for years before it was finished and posted, so it makes sense that it followed my old format, despite falling on the newer side of the break I took writing. (It is the only thing I published besides the 2018 YGOME before the 2019 YGOME started me writing again.) The long break coincides, to my memory with the tumblr purge and me entering a long-term relationship with my current partner. I should maybe think about adding more action into my writing again.

15. "War of Love: The Game" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Draw!” Atem yelled as he pulled the card out of the deck and looked at it.

14. "Dignity Lost! The Ship Ride to Duelist Kingdom" (yugiomo pseud, and yes apparently I'm mainblogging that now). --- Anzu grit her teeth as she listened to the gentle sound of water on the hull of the giant boat, every wave torturous to her ears. Finally she stood from her position crouching next to Honda. “I’m at my breaking point,” she complained, her voice a slight whine.

13. "Paladins: Champions of the Realm" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Enemy double kill... enemy triple kill!” the automated voice announced. "Enemy killing spree.”

12. "Failure" (yugiomo pseud) --- Stupid Kaiba and his stupid rules! Jounouchi thought, desperately working at the restraints that held him him in place. Who even made desks like this anyway? It almost seemed like the chain was built in, like it was meant to be on the desk. But that couldn’t be right. Kaiba had said he’d had this desk as a kid.

11. "More Sex Play" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Want to play something other than Duel Monsters this afternoon?” Atem suggested to Kaiba as he dug through the golden box for his deck. “I live in a game shop, surely there is something else you’d like to try to beat me at.”

10. "Alone" --- All Kaiba wanted was to shrink away from the music, the noise and the crowd. He didn’t want to play this part anymore, but he had to, for Mokuba’s sake. Mokuba was all that was left.

9. "Trying (On) My Patience" -- “Look, all I’m saying is that you need to find something other than a discarded school uniform to throw over your shoulders. And maybe some better jewelry.”

8. "Keijo!!!!!" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Don’t you think we should check it out?” Atem insisted, his intense gaze meeting Kaiba’s across the desk. “It’s the latest competitive fad in Japan. According to Yugi, men are going crazy for it.”

7. "Liquid Gold" --- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XaS93WMRQQ

Atem sat at the computer, simply searching the internet while he waited for Seto to finish up with his work. While he almost exclusively had been using this specific computer in Seto’s office space since coming back from the afterlife, occasionally Seto would use it to set the ambiance while Atem was gone. What Seto didn’t know is that Atem had figured out how to search the browsing history, and that he had recently seen that there were nearly 20 plays of the same youtube video.

6. "All I Want For Christmas..." --- Yugi yawned as he watched out the window of the Kaiba jet . It was the private one, not the blue eyes white jet; Yugi had always been secretly nervous about that plane’s capability of flying, and regardless, there wouldn't have been enough room for Mokuba, Yugi, and Seto to fly in the dragon-shaped jet together. He’d been woken by the announcement of the plane’s descent, as dawn broke over the unique arrangement of city and harbor that forms Sydney, Australia.

5. "Help Me Doctor (I Have Sinned)" --- Marco always had an eye out for sails as he went about his daily tasks on Whitebeard’s peaceful home island. He’d been expecting Edward Weevil to make his way there eventually, and in the meantime needed to protect the small island from bands of low-class marauders. So, when he was walking down the beach and he recognized the telltale black flag, he immediately pulled out his spyglass. The jolly roger showed a skull surrounded by a fluffy pink scarf, with giant red lips and a brown and pink tricorne on its head, and Marco’s heart rate immediately increased.

4. "Shimmering Blush" --- Tony Tony Chopper woke up bright and early, excited to go back to see his friends. The last two years in Birdie Kingdom without seeing any of the other Straw Hats had been long, even with the new friends he’d made here. He knew he was stronger, and would do his best to support everyone now that he would finally get to see them again.

3. "House On A Hill" --- Marco wasn’t about to listen to Katakuri (of all people) lecturing him on selflessness. They both had always been the kind of people that would prioritize their families over themselves. That was why they had ended and Marco was cursing Katakuri for not leaving the island after yet another ill-advised tryst.

2. "Relief" (yugiomo pseud--you thought this died in 2017, didn't you?) --- Ryou had, for the most part, reached an understanding with the Spirit of the Ring. Unlike Yugi, Ryou was well-aware of the other person that had come attached to the Millenium Ring, the Item his father had gifted him from one of his archeological digs. Most people probably would have assumed they were cursed the first time they saw the disembodied Spirit following themselves around, and thrown the Ring away as far as they could. Ryou, in contrast, turned around, faced the Spirit, and said hello.

1. "Shared Nightmares" --- Robin has had nightmares about the Buster Call that destroyed Ohara ever since she escaped her fate. Sometimes it’s just the kids back home that picked on her and called her a devil child, all in the rescue boat and dying because she might have made it on board, sometimes it’s the burning of the Tree of Life, sometimes it’s Saul’s laughing face as Akoiji froze him solid.

0. "Seek and Ye Shall Find" (I miscounted and started a fic late and I am not spending time readjusting this nonsense) --- Atem was so happy he’d finally found a way to at least view what was happening back in Domino. Rather than getting surprised by the Gods’ future requests at world-saving, he could keep an eye on things from the afterlife. It’s not like he could transport himself to Domino without the Gods’ help, so it was more a way to keep an eye on things in the meantime. The Kaiba Dome seemed the best place for the mirror into the realm of the living; after all, Seto Kaiba now seemed the center of all the trouble.

youtube

#long post #my writing #writing meme #mobile doesnt have see more #Youtube

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memehellion · 5 years ago

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oc asks!!

Profile: Niamh Lesath

full name. Niamh Lesath pronunciation. Neev Les-ah-th nicknames. “dumb bitch,” which is what I call her height. 5′2″ age. Early 20s zodiac. Scorpio sun, Aries moon, Leo rising, Aries venus languages. Common, Sylvan, some Elvish

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour. Naturally light brown, dyes it navy eye colour. Seafoam skin tone. Pale, but with a ton of dark freckles everywhere. She looks like a pebble :) body type. Thin, but her arms are just toned enough accent. Super thick Scottish accent dominant hand. Right, but ambidextrous when wielding her scimitar posture. She slouch scars. A couple on her back. The ones across her face from sword fighting are all pretty faded. Some on her legs. tattoos. None...as of yet most noticeable features. Her direct and cutting speech. Her words and wit slice through the air.

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth. Somewhere in the woods, where the weather is warm, and all seasons besides winter is experienced. A lake is nearby. (If we’re being honest I haven’t developed the world she lives in besides aesthetics) hometown. A village which I have yet to name or give lore to lmao birth weight / height. Idk. Average baby weight and height. Let’s say she pooped in utero during labor and the doctors had to do an emergency operation to get her out to make it interesting. manner of birth. Read above, absolutely chaotic. first words. “You lose!” siblings. Only child parents. Two moms baybey!!! parental involvement. Both parents were as involved as Niamh would let them be (i.e., not a lot)

ADULT LIFE

occupation. Pirate and sex worker !!! She gambles as well and definitely does not cheat current residence. Her big ass boat which she definitely did not steal close friends. Her crew, although they don’t know whether or not to be friendly with her or to be terrified of her. Her closest friends are the random assortments of plants she’s collected from the islands she’s been to. relationship status. shes in a fucking kismesis with a doofus from one of the islands because im a fucking homestuck if that wasn’t obvious financial status. Extremely well-off, for now. criminal record. Not long enough. vices. She drinks more than she’d like to admit and while Niamh fucks, she doesn’t consider that a vice. It’s just something she likes to do and makes her feel good. I love Niamh.

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation. Queer/Pan, Not Straight preferred emotional role. submissive | dominant | switch | unsure preferred sexual role. submissive | dominant | switch | sex repulsed | likes to fight for dominance if with a larger, stronger partner libido. through the fucking roof turn ons. Absolute idiots. Give her the most idiotic person you can find and she’ll just want to f*** the s*** out of them. turn offs. People who think she’s below them. love language. It’s not true love unless she’s thrown a knife in your direction relationship tendencies. Has never had a real relationship before. Tends to push people away when she’s afraid they’re getting too close. “Relationships only end with a life long commitment or heartbreak. Both sound fuckin horrible”

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song. Problem by Natalia Kills (i know she’s lowkey problematic i’m sorry), Miss Jackson by P!ATD, or Copycat by Billie Eilish hobbies to pass the time. Drinking, shooting the shit, sword training mental illnesses. Untreated/undiagnosed OCD and depression. Probably borderline alcoholic. (this is totally not a projection oc) physical illnesses. None left or right brained. The psychologist in me wants to say left/right brain is actual bullshit, but she’s more analytical than creative fears. Nothing baybey!! self confidence level. She projects it as being high, but she kind of hates herself and wishes she could settle down with someone instead of letting her superiority complex ruin everything. vulnerabilities. A good looking moron

tagged by: Saw that my mutual @garlean-nonsense posted it on her acc so i stole it!! :P tagging: @simonstuck493, @blackfyrez, @altoliva, @nearlyer, and any other friends who have ocs they want an excuse to write about!

#long post #oc nonsense #i love niamh i am terrified of her

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lifeinahole27 · 6 years ago

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CS ff: “On the Two” (Chapter 1/9) (au)

Summary: He’s one bad trip from ending up in AA, and she’s one performance away from a solid job and moving closer to home. Their paths were unlikely to cross until Camp Hope brought them together. How and why they meet and intertwine is against the odds, and definitely against the rules, but will that really stand in their way? A Dirty Dancing inspired modern au.

Rating: E

Content Warnings: Borderline alcoholism, very brief mentions of past relationships, mentions of the loss of a limb - this fic is primarily tame but I’ll do my best to tag anything that might need tags.

Chapter Specific Warnings: Alcohol use, past injury mentions

A/N: Holy. Shit. I’ve finally found a minute to post chapter 1. Hoping to stick to a Thursday schedule for posting, and I can’t wait for you all to see this unfold.

I have to give shoutouts and love to three very important people to this process. @initiala sent this over a year ago: look i know you're busy and have a lot of fics, but just hear me out: CS Dirty Dancing AU. So. Now you know who to blame/thanks, like I’ve been doing! To @phiralovesloki for the heaps of emotional support and handholding when I needed it. I can’t imagine my life without you in general, let alone my writing process. And of course, my beta, my dancing expert, my sanity: @captainstudmuffin. Thanks for all you do for me, from proofreading to slapping me into action. I’m sure we’re even on boob punches... for now.

Catch it on FFN & Ao3!

Welcome to Camp Hope!

About Us

Years ago, Ruth Nolan operated these camp grounds as a haven for children to explore the fruits of the Earth and come into their own. For fifteen years, she oversaw the summers of thousands of children, all in need of the room to grow and eager to learn the skills of the outdoors.

In honor of Ruth’s hard work, we’ve re-opened the camp to those who still want to learn about the wilderness, explore the rich terrain that this coastal Maine property has to offer, and take the classes you’ve maybe not had time to take in the past. It’s not all outdoors, either! Our staff is composed of very talented individuals that are available to teach you almost anything, from dancing to the arts, yoga and fitness routines, as well as anything you’d expect from the average camp of summers past. You’ll enrich your body and mind and connect in ways you never have before!

A summer camp for adults may seem like an outdated or unconventional thing, but here at Camp Hope, we aim to improve the memories you may have of summer camps long past, or make new ones if this is your first time. Plus, now is your chance to try things like zip-lining without getting a consent form signed! There are plenty of perks to trying new things when you’re old enough to decide for yourself.

Please check our FAQs and pricing packages; your stay can be as short as a week or as long as the whole summer. Our accommodations range from your own private cabin to our brand new, hotel-style lodgings. We welcome you, and hope you’ll enjoy your experiences!

Sincerely,

Snow and David Nolan

Owners, Camp Hope Ltd.

-x-

Sifting through the mail on his table, Killian tosses the pamphlet for some kind of camping place into the stack to be thrown away. It joins the myriad of advertisements and coupons that he doesn’t bother to look at or ever use. Besides, if it’s a camp marketed towards adults, it’s likely something religious or a thinly veiled addiction recovery facility, and while he’s probably edging along the lines of alcoholism, he’s damn well not there yet.

There’s roughly a week’s worth of mail here, as it’s been a couple days since he’s even thought to check his mailbox, but he’s sure Liam will be up his arse any day here to go over his finances. If he makes it look like he’s been keeping things in order, Liam is less likely to give him his Worried Brother speech this month.

He sips at his coffee, pausing just a moment to pop two painkillers before resuming his sorting. When he’s hungover, the phantom pain where his left hand should be is stronger, and today is no exception to that. He hasn’t bothered to put on his prosthetic, content instead to leave it off until he has to go into public.

Days like this, though, he has nothing but time to mindlessly sift through his queue and get day-drunk. It’s been ages since Killian can remember going more than two or three days without a drink. That doesn’t stop him from unscrewing the top of his favorite brand of rum when he pours the second cup before he settles in to watch Netflix. He sprawls across the couch, happy as he ever can be to live off the settlement over the accident that cost him his hand.

There’s a bar down the street that he visits when he needs personal interaction, and if he’s lucky there might even be a woman willing to help with even more personal interactions. That’s what last night had been – him in the bar until closing, a brunette that he can’t remember the name of giggling as she pulled him towards her car. A short while later, a cab brought him home, alone, with a little less dignity than he had before.

The sound of a key in the door announces Liam’s arrival before the man himself calls out a greeting, and Killian is minimally glad for the distraction from the road of self-pity and/or loathing that he was about to embark down. He knew there was a good reason to starting his sorting today. He stashes the bottle of rum beneath the coffee table again, running his fingers through his hair real quick to tame it down.

“Ah, you are awake. Excellent. I thought we’d set your bills straight, and maybe head out for some lunch. Breakfast? What meal are you on?”

“Let’s just call it brunch. Eat first, bills second,” Killian declares, sending his spiked coffee one forlorn look as he realizes he’ll have to go get dressed and act like a responsible adult for a few hours. He takes one more gulp before taking the mug to the kitchen to dump it out.

He’s in his room for just over five minutes, using food as a motivator to get him out the door sooner. The shirt is mostly wrinkle free, and he thinks the jeans he slides on are clean, so he’s at least presentable and won’t have to deal with Liam’s tongue-clicking. He makes sure to snag his sunglasses off the entryway table before ushering his brother out the door. Had he taken much longer, Liam surely would’ve declared that the bills looked quick or manageable, and they’d take ‘just a minute more’ to complete. As it is, he can see his piles have been tampered with, straightened and organized to his brother’s preferences, as he glances back on his way out; he timed it just perfectly.

Halfway through eating, Liam takes a sip from his water before placing it back on the table, steepling his fingers as he rests his hands on the table. “I’ve just had a thought,” he says in a way that really gives away that he’s been sitting on this for a while now. “How would you like to get out of town for a while?”

“When? How long?” Killian asks, preoccupied by the task of trapping all the toppings on his sandwich. He hates using his prosthetic to eat, doing his best instead to wrangle the whole thing with his right hand while his left arm stays beneath the table.

“Over the summer? We could make an adventure of it. Maybe go back home, visit the relatives. It’s not like you’re doing anything here. As my own boss, I can afford to take some time off. We go, we live a little, return in the fall as new men. What do you say?”

The prospect of getting out of the city, away from everything that holds painful memories for him, does sound appealing. Spending the whole time with his brother, however, tarnishes it just a touch. It’s not that he doesn’t love his brother, but Liam has a tendency to be… a little overbearing.

Of course, for a long time after Killian’s accident, Liam probably had every right to be. He’d just lost a hand, for fuck’s sake. Coming just after the loss of his fiancée probably didn’t help, either, but Killian was deep in a hole of depression for so long he wasn’t sure he was ever going to see the surface again. Now, he’s not so much depressed as he is resigned to this life, unemployed due to disability, living off the accident settlement, and drinking away his feelings as often as possible without officially becoming an alcoholic.

The thing is, Liam’s overprotective shadowing of Killian’s life is nothing new. He’s been this way for as long as Killian can remember, and since Killian can only half remember a handful of instances with either their mum or their dad, it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibilities that Liam feels more like Killian’s father than his older brother. Still, every bird has to fly the nest sometime.

And Killian did for a bit. He flew, and was so close to having everything he wanted in his life – a job doing a craft he loved, a woman that he intended to marry and grow a family and home with, and still the taste for adventure on the tip of his tongue if he ever chose. But all good things come to an end, in his experience.

First was Milah’s passing. Her brief but destructive illness soaked up all their life savings, leaving Killian with a broken heart and empty pockets. He didn’t care about the money, and why should he? He lost the reason he was saving it in the first place. He could earn it all again, but he’d never have Milah back. And then, shortly after, as he helped wrap up a custom boat build for a wealthy client, something went wrong. He still doesn’t remember exactly what happened, just that one minute he had a left hand, and the next he didn’t; it really was that simple.

“I’ll think about it,” Killian finally says, abandoning the hand-held option for his food and dropping it back into the basket it came in. He stabs at the pieces of it with his fork and considers the offer. He will think about it, too; he’s not just saying so to change the conversation back to footy and traffic patterns. It’s been a long time since he’s gotten away. He’s set for life on a permanent vacation if he so chooses, but a change of scenery would be welcome at this juncture of his life.

The idea marinates all while they finish their meal, and the whole walk back to Killian’s apartment. He’s so hung up on the possibilities involved that he doesn’t even complain as they sit down with his meager stack of bills. He signs when he’s told to do so, with no remarks about the tedium of the task while they work.

By the time the afternoon is wrapping up, Killian has made up his mind. As Liam stamps the last of the bills and puts Killian’s checkbook back where it resides, Killian speaks up. “I’ve thought about your offer to get away for the summer. Might not be such a bad idea, after all.” He keeps his tone light, nonchalant, hoping that Liam won’t catch on that it’s something he might genuinely be excited about for the first time in longer than he can recall.

“Excellent. Leave all the planning to me,” Liam says as he stands and throws the trash into the bin. “I’ll send you a packing list when I’ve finalized the plans and we can meet up again to get everything squared away for a couple months out of town.”

With a shrug, Killian extracts himself from the couch in order to see his brother out since all their business is complete. In his distracted state, he misses the gleeful look on Liam’s face; it’s an expression his brother was infamous for as they were growing up and meant that Killian was about to be served a life-lesson, and he likely wasn’t going to enjoy it very much. But he’s so lost in his thoughts about all the places they may go – both familiar and new – that he bids his brother goodbye and settles back in for his slightly interrupted day of Netflix.

He doesn’t even slip more rum into his glass until after he’s had his dinner.

-x-

Emma Swan is just as much a part of Camp Hope as the camp is part of her. For the last fourteen years, Emma has been making the journey of varying lengths back to the campgrounds; it’s something a lot like flocking home for the summer, and she’s made the trip from right in Storybrooke – the tiny town closest to the camp – and from as far as Tallahassee, all those years ago.

This year, she’s traveling from just outside Boston along with her roommate, Ruby. While the stories of their upbringings are vastly different, Emma and Ruby have been two peas of a pod since Emma’s first trip.

Back then, she was journeying to Camp Hope as part of a foster kid outreach program. It was two glorious weeks that she and twenty-some other foster kids got to go to someplace new, rather than waste away in a group home or get shipped off to bible camp again. She was fourteen, and while some of the crafts and activities were aimed at kids much younger than her, she still sat at the table and made bracelets, tie-dyed a shirt and bandana, and participated in capture the flag with water balloons like it was her first time, but that’s mostly because it was.

At the campfire that night, Ruby plopped down next to her, showing her the “right” way to toast marshmallows and offering to put red streaks in Emma’s hair so they could match.

Emma passed on the streaks, but the next day when Ruby dragged her to a special meeting for future counselors, it was all history from there. More than just finding a way to spend her summers that didn’t involve wallowing in her own loneliness and isolation, Emma met David Nolan during the counselors program. Upon picking up bits and pieces about her, David decided to introduce Emma to his mother. As soon as Ruth met Emma, she was set on bringing her on as a permanent fixture in their lives.

Having previously thought that she’d never find a place that wanted her, a place that wanted someone old by foster standards and jaded beyond reason, Emma was shocked. Not only was she wanted, she was loved. Despite the three year age difference, and the short time they’d been together, David became her best friend and brother, with Ruby a close second.

There was a shared passion of dancing between Emma and Ruby, and when they weren’t raking in the volunteer hours during the summer, they were saving every penny they earned from their respective guardians to take dance lessons one town over. And that’s the way it went until they graduated.

Remembering what happened after graduation always leaves Emma with a pit of shame in her stomach that feels a lot like indigestion, so when she wanders to the kitchen, she pops two antacids before starting up the coffee maker. It used to be worse, but time heals all, even wounds that don’t feel like they’ll ever scab over.

It’s time for their annual trip back, just two days away, and Emma has too much to do to spend her morning in a guilt trip over things that happened in the past. Instead, she wanders down the hallway to get Ruby up. There’s a whole list for her friend to complete today, and she’s pretty sure she’s also battling with a hangover from being out too late the night before.

She knocks, only twisting the knob and entering the room after hearing the faint groan of invitation. “Hey there, champ. Good morning!”

Ruby groans again, struggling to push her eye mask off her face and groping for the pain killers and water on her nightstand. She’s one of those drinkers that’s always considerate to her morning self – something Emma has always been in awe of. “You’re not the morning person, stop sounding so chipper,” Ruby instructs after drinking down half the water. She hauls herself to sit up, patting the edge of her bed for Emma to sit down. “What’s on your Snow-style agenda for the day?”

“I’m going to clean. You’re going to wrap up the sub-let on the studio space. Graham is supposed to be down there around noon, so you’ve got time, but I need you to grab the costumes we’ll need for performance nights.” She leaves Ruby to get herself out of bed, and calls out that she’ll get breakfast started.

“Don’t break the toaster!” Ruby calls from behind door that Emma closes on her way out, and while Ruby can’t see Emma rolling her eyes, she knows her friend will sense it. It was one time.

Leaving for Camp Hope has always been a little tumultuous for them, but after this many years, Emma thinks they’ve gotten a little better at it. There were a few years where they weren’t going back to work camp, and those are the years that make Emma’s heart ache most – more than the year she refuses to think about.

They closed the camp when Ruth’s health suddenly declined the year after the year-that-shall-not-be-named, and Emma and David only made the journey every week to tend the growing weeds and mend the deteriorating buildings the best they could. With Ruby’s help, they were able to keep the camp from falling apart, but the same couldn’t be said for them. Ruth passed the winter after Emma turned twenty, and she lost the closest thing to a mother she’d ever found.

Luckily, they had one more to hold their family unit together. A year after Emma met him, David met Mary Margaret Blanchard, better known to her friends as Snow, and Emma got to witness fairytale levels of Love at First Punch between them. Down the road, the wedding was a bit rushed, so that Ruth could watch her son get married. Years after the quick engagement and marriage saw them going stronger than ever.

For two years, the camp remained closed, but David and Snow, thanks to an off-hand comment from Emma, decided to reopen the beloved summer camp as an experience for adults. It took a whole other year until they could renovate everything up to standards, but it was worth it. The first year they opened again, it was so profitable and the waitlist was so long that they were easily able to expand and enhance the experiences.

Shaking her head, Emma realizes she’s spending way too much time reflecting and not enough time moving. Down the hall, she hears Ruby’s water start up, and knows she has until the time the taps shut off to get that woman some hangover worthy breakfast. Pouring herself a large mug of coffee, she takes three deep, scalding gulps to get herself going.

She’s just plating up some eggs and bacon, snatching a bagel from the toaster so Ruby can construct her own breakfast sandwich when the roommate in question comes ambling into the kitchen.

This is Emma’s favorite version of Ruby. Stripped of her makeup, without a product in the world in her hair post-shower, wearing an old t-shirt and boxers for her pajamas. Her usual persona is an elaborate mask, with the heavy makeup and killer manicure, flirtation just as exposed as her long, lean legs normally are. The short shorts and low-cut tops are standard everywhere but at home. That’s the Ruby that will likely crawl into her car bright and early in a couple days, but today she’s happy to spend time with average Ruby, and she’s happy when she does not break the toaster again. There are small miracles, after all.

When both of them are settled at the breakfast bar with their food, they start talking strategy, both in prep for leaving and for camp itself.

“Are the costumes for the Waltz demo here or at the studio?” Emma asks as she alternates sips of coffee and bites of her pop-tart.

“The studio, I think. I’ll grab them when I meet with Graham and lock up everything else of ours.”

“Good. Don’t sleep with him this time, okay?”

“No promises,” Ruby says, a wicked grin spreading across her lips even as she tries to hide it behind her coffee mug.

At the very least, they might get a deal on the rent again, which is the only consolation Emma can think of. The rest of their day is a whirlwind, with Ruby taking care of the studio and Emma tidying up their apartment. She packs the bulk of their non-perishable foods to take with them, cleaning as she goes, until the whole kitchen is spotless. She also takes the time to write down the instructions and emergency numbers for Aurora, their downstairs neighbor that’s been kind enough to take care of their plants and fish while they’re gone.

It’ll be weeks until either one of them can make it back to the city, if they do at all, but Emma doesn’t mind. While she loves Ruby and living in the city, she gets her own cabin for the summer. They converted one of the old lodges into a dance/yoga studio, located just a short walk along the west trail from the main lodge. Behind said studio, they relocated one of the cabins and refurnished the whole place to act as the dance director’s housing for the summer. Thankfully, Ruby likes to throw herself into a multitude of activities, so she bunks in the staff cabins up the hill and leaves Emma to have her solitude.

Mostly, all that means is that no one will know that she’s in the studio putting in extra hours. Maybe this will be the year she can quit hunting down bail skippers and be able to focus on nothing but dancing. She can always dream, at least.

Ruby stops in only briefly to drop off a case of their costumes and check in, taking the time to change into a date dress and do her hair and make-up. She gives Emma a wink before she leaves and tells her not to wait up, before disappearing in a flurry of stiletto clicks and perfume. She doesn’t get home until late, when Emma is already tucked in her bed hoping to fall asleep. Her friend is humming and heads straight for the shower.

Emma’s not a bit surprised two days later when Ruby announces that Graham decided to pay more than they originally negotiated, and laughs at the wolfish grin on Ruby’s face as they throw their bags into the backseat and boot of the Volkswagen Bug that Emma’s had for years. They’re actually running on time for once, but Emma doesn’t expect that to last long, especially when, after only an hour, Ruby announces that she’s famished and starts calling out the name of food places they pass.

The trip to Storybrooke, on the coast of Maine, is one of Emma’s favorites. The scenic views from Boston onward are ones she’s familiar with, but that still lift her heart. The trip is only four hours if they don’t stop, but with Ruby’s pea-sized bladder, and her bottomless stomach, it’s more likely they’ll get there in five hours… if they’re lucky.

One year, it took them almost twice as long to make the journey because Ruby was chasing down the International Cryptozoology Museum and her cheap-o GPS meant that the museum (which was on the way) eluded them for hours until Emma screeched that they were done looking and if Ruby really wanted to see it, they’d find it on the way home.

They found it on the first try on their return drive, and Ruby bought her the biggest cone of Rocky Road ice cream they could find at a nearby ice cream stand, to make up for the original disaster.

This job that they do, this ability to go up and demo and teach dances to the souls that will wander through the paths of Camp Hope, is only possible because of the popularity of the camp. The first year, Emma and Ruby would switch off every two weeks, with Ruby piling all her lessons into the two weeks she was home and Emma trying to catch ask many bail skips as possible in between her own lessons and classes. When the popularity of the camp became apparent, they were able to rent out their studio space to a few other dance teachers in the area while they took the whole summer to attend to the camp. It helps that David is able to pay them, and pay them well, for their time and energy.

Along the way, Emma has met the heartbroken and the heartbreakers, she’s met dreamers and lovers, she’s taught cynics and optimists, and she’s danced for every person in between. The two of them together have dealt with perverts and assholes, handsy men and women who don’t take “no” for an answer, and people who have gone on to contact them once the summer ends to continue their lessons in the city. It makes it all worth it, these months away from all the comforts of home, to spend their summers in another version of home.

Plus, thanks to an excellent network of friends in Boston, they never want for anything from home if they forget it. It’s all just a PayPal and overnight shipping away, really.

As Ruby climbs back into the car from their third rest stop, this thought comes in handy. “I left my favorite performance shoes by the door,” Emma groans out as her friend seatbelts in and starts the car.

“Good, because I forgot to grab my sleeping pills off my nightstand,” she says, grinning quickly and dropping the sunglasses back onto her nose.

“I’ll text Aurora now.”

With the promise of a package imminently to be sent their way, Emma relaxes as the last of their journey passes by outside the windows. She zones out to the sights, not perking up again until they hit the Storybrooke town limits. They’ll top off the tank and stop in to see Granny for lunch (second or third lunch by Emma’s count) before heading up to the campgrounds. Her car crawls by each familiar sight, and Emma smiles at the simplicity of it all – the never-changing nature of their sleepy little town. While she only officially lived in Storybrooke for three years, it’s still the only place she’s ever called home.

Granny is already outside by the curb when they pull up, and Emma takes a minute to let Ruby climb out of the car to reunite with her grandmother. It’s only after she sees their hug loosen up that she opens her door, languidly stretching as she unfolds herself from the passenger seat. Then it’s her turn for Granny to gather her up and hug her so hard that Emma’s back cracks. She won’t complain, it definitely eases the travel tension to get a hug from Granny. They’re ushered inside the small diner the elderly (and boy, would be lose her shit if Emma said that term out loud) woman has run for the last billion years.

“When should I expect the first package from your neighbor?” Granny asks after their lunches have been set in front of them.

Ruby laughs, not even ashamed of the fact that they’re so predictable that her grandmother knows they’ve already left something behind.

“We’ll be back in town over the weekend to get it,” Emma answers.

“I already saw one of the trucks of shipment head up to the campgrounds,” Granny remarks as she refills Ruby’s coffee cup. “Your brother has been up there for weeks getting everything ready.”

“Please tell me he’s at least eating.”

“Snow has badgered him back home a couple times now to eat and sleep, and she picks up meals on the days they decide to stay up there. Sounds like you’re gonna have a full camp most of the summer.”

“That’s the plan,” Ruby says, beaming before she takes the last bite of her sandwich.

Emma waves them both off when they move to go into the back for more family time. It’s not that she and Ruby don’t get to visit ever, it’s just that the stretch between Christmas and camp time can sometimes feel like much longer. The same itch resides just below her skin – the need to see her brother and sister-in-law so strong that she almost slips away before she’s done eating and leaving Ruby to hitch a ride out later with one of the counselors that lives in town.

Instead, she idly swirls her onion rings through her ketchup, taking her time with making sure every crumb is gone from the plate while she waits. She glances around, waving to the familiar faces in the booths and at the counter beside her, and she grins at the large board already propped near the entrance that loudly welcomes the campers to town. Since the grounds are two miles north of Storybrooke, many will pass through on their way. Some will stay overnight in the bed and breakfast while others will stop for a bite and a fill-up before continuing on to Camp Hope.

Thankfully, the business that the camp brings to the town will mean that the owners of most, if not all, of the establishments will have their pockets lined for months to come, making the onslaught of guests and visitors worth it when the summer ends and they go back to something less than a speck on the map of Maine.

Ruby and Granny are back a short time later, while Emma is idly catching up with a sweet yoga teacher that goes by Tink. The name is fitting of the cherub-faced woman with the perfect curly bun of blonde hair on top of her head. She’s new to the staff, but not to the town, so Emma is happy to listen to her excitement bubble over as she discusses all the classes she’ll be teaching for the next few months.

“A little help?” Ruby asks, and Emma finally glances up to see her friend’s arms laden down with several bags of what Emma assumes are home-cooked meals, prepared in advance and packaged for the crew that’s already working on getting the grounds ready for the summer. She moves around the counter to take a few of the cloth totes, waving farewell to Tink as they head out.

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly; they use the main entrance to deliver the food to Snow, who’s waiting for them beneath the welcome sign when they pull up. Emma hugs her tight before transferring two of the bags to her. They make the short trek down to the main lodge where Emma gets to give her brother his own hug, tight and bracing and full of the warmth she misses when she’s away from him for so long. With lunch delivered, Ruby and Emma head back up to the car to move it to the staff parking.

The lodges they’ll each be staying in are much closer to their hidden lot than they are the main entrance, which works out well when they’re unloading enough luggage for four months, and maybe a kitchen sink or two. It takes them three trips up and down the steps leading to the lot: one to Ruby’s space in the staff lodges, one to Emma’s private lodge, and one to the studio itself.

Emma wastes no time turning on all the lights and stepping up onto the vast wooden floor. There are mirrors lining one wall, floor to ceiling, and another has all the cabinets where they store their costumes and gear. The wall opposite her reflection has windows spaced evenly apart, which she immediately starts working open even as Ruby brings in the last tote of their stuff. The air is a little stagnant, but flipping on the overhead fans will get it moving again.

Ruby drops the last container with their gear, rushing out to choose her space and start unpacking as soon as she can and promising to come back later to help get the studio in order. Emma waves her off, already itching to have the space to herself. Her muscles are practically begging to be warmed up, to take advantage of the wide open space that calls her name.

She knows she needs to clean first; the mirrors and windows all have that faint tinge of grime that comes from a long winter of neglect. The air conditioning unit needs to be tended to, as well, and tested to make sure it’s in working order before the summer starts in full. Then there’s the cleaning and organizing and stocking and… and Emma doesn’t care. She rips open the first bag she finds and pulls out leggings and a sports bra – they’ll do in a pinch. She changes quickly before skipping along the path back to the studio.

It’s only a matter of time before she’s selected something with an upbeat tempo, thankful again for the auxiliary port that allows her to play her own music from the impressive sound system. She sits on the dusty floors for a moment to slip on a beat up pair of practice shoes and lamenting again how she’ll have to turn her focus to cleaning next.

She takes her time stretching, making sure to work out all the kinks from the drive up and getting her muscles and body all warmed up. As soon as she’s on her feet, she’s running through swing patterns that she can do on her own. Through lines of sailor shuffles and slides, she dances using the whole dance studio, going from one end of the spacious floor to the other. She doesn’t get this much room in Boston. She doesn’t get this solitude. She doesn’t get this freedom. Maybe this is the real reason she loves coming back to camp so often, and there’s probably something in her psyche to deal with in those regards but it’s nothing she’s willing to look too closely into.

By the time the playlist switches to something for cooldown, Emma has worked up an impressive sweat. She grabs a towel from the same bin she found her shoes in, wiping down her face and neck before dropping back to the floor for final stretches. Placing the towel on the floor, she stretches out briefly, staring up at the ceiling and watching the fans whirl peacefully above her. This is it. This is home for the next couple months. And nothing will change how happy she is to be here.

With that thought, and a beatific smile, Emma changes back to her tennis shoes and hauls herself off the floor. There’s hours of cleaning ahead of her, after all.

Chapter 2

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan ff #cs multichap #sarah writes ff

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echo-inthevoid · 6 years ago

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Friends at the table live blogging? Reaction? Thoughts? What is this?

So I know usually people start these at episode one but when I started listening to this podcast it was just cause I was super bored and I had no intention of liking it so much. But I do like it incredibly lots and there isn't enough content out there for autumn in hieron, (which is what I'm currently listening through because I decided to start at the beginning), and there needs to be more. So I'm going to write out my reactions and predictions for the rest of this season (I'm on episode 21 now.) I've also already made some art so I'll post that along with the reactions. All of this ill tag as #myf@ttreactions so... I guess if I end up spamming you can block it or if you come across this later and want to read it all in order you can do that too.

Alright. So to recap what I've listened to so far. Obviously, this will contain spoilers but I'll try to be somewhat vague? So if you do plan on listening but don't mind spoilers it's not gonna be like there's no point in listening anymore?

The first arc (the first tower? Idk if there's a naming system in place for the arcs within each season? Are their multiple arcs in other seasons of hieron? Idk. I've been trying to avoid spoilers.) I'll just call it the first tower until I'm told otherwise.

The first tower was super interesting, although at that point I couldn't tell the difference between any of the voices except phantasmo and hella? So I didn't super follow the character development or interactions super well (also the audio wasn't great early on). But the whole thing about every npc having a goal and at least some personality is a thing I really love. The whole thing with the animated chefs hat? Brilliant loved it.

hadrian killed the skeleton dude! I was also upset about it!

Even this early on I was in love with austins story telling. He gives everything such personality and seems capable of just going with whatever the players decide to do in a way I find almost unbelievable? Like? How????? Teach me your ways?

Also they are all so... Earnest and unabashed in caring about their characters and the world? basically they are a bunch of nerds, but that caring is something that means a lot to me.

All the characters arguing at the end was interesting? Like these guys aren't just gonna stick together cause their the player characters, they're willing to split up or fight and I found that very interesting. I've only listened to taz as far as actual play podcasts are concerned so forgive me if I don't know how rpg podcasting usually goes or compare these two a lot.

Hella and phantasmo were my favorites at this point (because they were the only voices I could recognize), and I thought hadrian and fero were the same person??? Sort of? I was very confused.

And I think that's all I have to say about the first tower.

So on to snow party and then boat party.

at this point 1. The audio got better, and 2. I realized fero and hadrian were different people because they were in two different places.

Throndir is introduced and is a tentative favorite. He has a dog, is an elf, looks up to two idiots, is just generally adorable?

Hadrian decides not to sleep after having nightmares. Yes yes yes give meee angst. Also having come to this from listening to Taz the willingness to explore the characters emotions so much was very nice? Like taz is great, but it is about 90% goofs, which is great and what a lot of people like about it, and is something I like about it. It's just rather surprising going from one sort of extreme to the other? Anyway, I liked it.

Phantasmo goes invisible and then reality slowly disappears? Spooky. Very nice. They go into how he's feeling about it? Copy paste the paragraph I just wrote again. That good good character development stuff! I could probably have writen a pretty in character fanfic about phantasmo just having the information about him from that one thing?

The ice monster? Spookyyyy! Also. Throndir slowly rising as a solid favorite. My boy was so cold and scared! ;-;

Phantasmo is an old grumpidygrump. I love.

Hadrian tries his best.

Wooorddd eatterrrsssss!!! This idea confused me a lot. And still does? How does one subsist on words? How do you eat a word? Do you eat it from just one person or does it disappear for everyone? Phantasmo didn't forget samothese's name, but at the same time it seems like the snow elves forgot about the goblins pretty thoroughly. Maybe just cause they live shorter now? And have lived with the word eaters for a long time? How do they not know the word eaters exist? Do the word eaters not turn them wordless ever? I have so many questions! Does a word eater have any consciousness before it eats a word? Or is it just a collection of words that eventually form a consciousness? What ARE they?

Phantasmos speech to the word eater.... O.O He was actually helpful? Wowowow. Also, super cool.

He immediately rubs it in everyones faces. Of course.

Also apparently throndir is part goblin??? When did that happen? The next episode just sort of started with them talking about it and I feel like I missed something??? Please help, where was that? When did that happen?

Also the goblin asking if throndir is going to torture the other pcs. Hints at tragic backstory™? 👀

And. Now i must scream about the entire part with the other snow elves!!!!!!!!!!

Like!!! They disected people!? And throndir saw it!? First of all, that's gotta be a bit traumatic, secondly, that's gotta be like terrifying also!!? Likewhkahskwbdjdjdjsksjd. I am a sucker for angst and you are just giving me this!? You're just giving it to me??? There is so MUCH that can be pulled out of this!? Also I didn't have any wifi or signal for a couple days in between them being captured and it being revealed that they were going to let throndir go and I am gonna have to write a fic some time about what I thought was going to happen. It definitely included throndir getting disected with like magic and things and was uuuu.. Very angst.

Throndir is my favorite for sure at this point. 100%. He's my boyy.

Alright now back to BOAT PARTYYYY!!!

Calhoun is great. Everything great. Then it's not.

Emanuel and lem!!!!! Im slow on the uptake when it comes to romance (ace here, hello) but I think this is the fastest I've ever shipped anything. Aka when lem decided he'd stay in the city with Emanuel and the others were kinda teasing him about how he had this whole idea of Emanuel in his mind... I was like haaanngg on a second! Is the romantic tension so strong here that even I can sense it!? Also then lem jokingly called him his boyfriend so.

Probably everyone else shipped it immediately when lem stopped fighting because Emanuel looked at him funny...

Again, austins ability to just sort of take whatever the players do and just go with it? Like now there's this whole ghost city!??

I really hope things turn out alright with lem and Emanuel, like. I hope Emanuel is still around in 4 seasons? (Or however many seasons of hieron there is?)

I just realized that if there's 4 seasons of hieron then that us an incredible pun and I am proud of whoever came up with it? If it wasn't just a coincidence? Is this a thing people are aware of? Have I unlocked my third eye?

I'm listening to episode 21 right now so I need to cry about Calhoun a bit. Like. Oof. Hella why. Also Ali/Hella was crying!!? And Calhoun was crying? And now I'm crying!? Calhoun became a favorite character of mine and then immediately died in like 2 minutes.

...i have now reached the end of episode 21 and I am scared.

Calhoun please don't change now? Like kill hella sure, but don't become eviill?? I just want everyone to be happy ;~;

Alright. Well. See ya next episode.

#my f@tt reactions #f@tt #autumn in hieron #live blogging #throndir #idk what else I should tag this as?#again I have been trying to avoid spoilers so Ive onky really skimmed through the tags #im not super familiar with them all yet?

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obsidianarchives · 6 years ago

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Ashley Romans

Ashley Romans started her formal acting training at Pace University School of Performing Arts. She moved to Los Angeles immediately after graduating in 2015. Los Angeles theater credits include: Celebration's Charm (Beta), Rotterdam (StageRaw and LADCC award recipients). Film/Television credits include: "I'm Dying Up Here" and "Shameless" (Showtime), "Are You Sleeping?" (Apple TV), "Hermione Granger and the Quarter Life Crisis" (Sunshine Moxie), "NOS4A2" (AMC new series).

Black Girls Create: What do you create?

I’m an actor. I create by acting. Collaborating with writers, directors, designers, and visionaries in whichever medium possible to hopefully create an honest reflection of a being’s life experience.

BGC: How do I create?

I suppose my entire creative process begins with healthy self trickery. Not quite deception but more healthy, playful, self manipulation. Naturally as creators we have a way of resisting and fearing whatever it is we most want to bring about into the world. Similar to a mother’s fear of giving birth or raising a child, we think “what if the world doesn’t receive my creation well? What if people are mean? What if it’s not healthy or ready?” I often find myself trying to bribe or trick my way out of this fear. I trick myself into going into my next audition as confidently as I can, or preparing for that day on set when I really don’t want to, or finding some connection with a character trait I find reprehensible.

I also think it is very important to stay relaxed and loose so one can reach a playful and spiritual place of creativity. So I try and keep myself healthy; mentally, spiritually, and physically by reading, eating healthy, journaling, praying, meditating, and exercising.

BGC: How did you get into acting?

I would say my professional pursuit officially began when I went to study theater at Pace University in New York City for my undergraduate degree, but for as long as I can remember I always had an interest in acting. I loved watching ‘90s action/drama movies with my father and “I Love Lucy” reruns with my mother as a child at all hours of the day. I became even more interested in theater and performance through high school choir, joining community summer camps, and doing the spring high school musical.

Even as an adolescent I felt it was best to keep my professional aspirations to myself in fear of naysayers. In retrospect, I understand now that high school is a time a lot of young people are dealing with self doubt and insecurity. Considering that I was far from the funniest, smartest, or most talented individual in the theater department, I, unconsciously, kept my performing ambitions quiet even from the people closest to me because I didn’t want to risk someone rubbing their self doubt on me. I worked up the courage to audition for a couple of acting schools but I told no one except my acting teacher Douglas Hooper and a few very close mates.

I still abide by this privacy philosophy even now and it hasn’t steered me wrong to this day. I still feel that speaking one’s dreams and aspirations among chaotic or unsupportive energy environment would most likely dissipate or poison their own source.

Eventually after graduating from Pace University through a couple months of tumbling I landed representation for acting with a management company and I moved out to Los Angeles. I’ve been able to land some great acting opportunities and gain a supportive team of people and I could not be more grateful.

BGC: What has been your favorite role so far?

I have so many favorites. The roles that stand out to me as my favorite are the ones that have most challenged me and allowed me to explore a different aspect of life, and explore and connect to the full range of the human experience. I’ve received some of my most valuable acting lessons in various roles in the theater. I played Inez, a red dressed-vixen-leading lady with a passionate, deep-seeded hatred for her ex-husband in Stephen Adly Guirgis’ Our Lady of 121st. Two years ago I played Beta, a young teenage gang affiliated boy in Chicago with a secret in Phillip Dawkins’s play Charm at Celebration Theater. This coming March I will be part of the Kirk Douglas’s production Rotterdam by Jon Brittain. Set in the Netherlands, I will play Fiona/Adrian, one half of a modern London couple who decides to make a huge change in their life. My experience acting in these productions specifically has been positively nurturing. Throughout our rehearsal process, I learned what it means to be not just a more nuanced and skilled actor but also a more supportive and capable teammate in the creative process.

In terms of film/television world, my work as Hermione Granger in Sunshine Moxie’s Hermione Granger and the Quarter Life Crisis remains my greatest acting lesson in the film/television/on-camera discipline. Eliyannah Yisrael, Megan Grogan, Alice Pierce, other writers and producers leveled up my game up. I’ve never before been number one on the call sheet and I’m not sure if I ever will again, but having that responsibility was so enlightening. It was also an invaluable learning experience getting to work with those amazing creators and seeing those women just get shit done. It was truly an honor being chosen to play such an important and monumental literary character in this version. I remember reading the Harry Potter series as a little girl in London and thinking how much I wanted to be part of and live in that magical world. Playing Hermione in the HGQLC series was by far the best artistic adventure I’ve ever had. Exploring moments, scenes and how far we can bring characters all felt like adventures. Even our trip to Dublin, Ireland this past year felt like one big adventure. I’ll be forever grateful for that experience.

BGC: Why do you create?

I enjoy acting because I love being seen and getting to disappear. It’s a paradox but it’s my truth. I enjoy exploring the range of human experience. I love that I get to feel connected to people in the safe incubator that is pretend. I love that I get to feel and say all the things I’m afraid to feel and say in my real life. I still never get bored of going to the theater, movie or stage, sitting in a dark room with other people and watching performers simply tell us a story. I hope to serve God and the people around me through my creativity and acting. I always hope to truthfully represent a human experience no matter how high or low the stakes it might seem to us at first. Losing your phone and frantically trying to find it can be as exciting and dramatic a story as losing one’s job or finding out your spouse is unfaithful. It’s all in the storytelling and truthfulness of the moment and I love as an actor I get to explore that.

BGC: Who do you hope to reach through your work?

Honestly, the most important people I aim to ultimately reach and impress are my nieces and nephews. Yes the public, my agents, and producers are all important but I feel as though they are a means to an end. Right now my oldest niece is 10 years old and she loves the Hermione series and is always pretty excited to see me act on TV. At the moment she still thinks I’m pretty cool and I hope to keep it that way.

If this was a decade ago and you asked 16-year-old Ashley the same question I probably would have said something like “I want to be a voice for the voiceless and the underrepresented… blah blah blah.” Truthfully, I don’t think I ever really knew what that meant. I mean, I knew what it meant on a superficial-runner-up-in-Beauty-Pageant kind of level but now that answer doesn’t resonate with me as the gutter truth. Whenever I’m working on scripts, deciding on content to create or post etc, I ask myself “Is this something I would be proud to let my niece see? Is this the kind of work that can help make the world even the tiniest bit better for her?” Eventually, she’s going to grow up and have a voice in this world and I hope that her seeing me embrace mine will give her the courage to embrace hers. My nieces and nephews and all the children like them are who I hope to reach.

I really love seeing how the world is changing now. Representation in the media was so limited even 10 years ago but now it’s getting more and more beautiful by the day. With so many platforms, works such as Pose, Glow, Fresh Off the Boat, Chewing Gum, Masters of None, Eighth Grade, and more, so many beings who have been underrepresented for years are getting a chance to reach their audiences and tell their stories. And we all get to identify and see ourselves in each other. I don’t have to reach out and save the world because it kind of starts with myself and our own backyard.

BGC: Who or what inspires you to keep creating?

Oh geez, that’s a loaded question. My peers are my first and foremost inspiration and motivation. Again Eliyannah Yisrael, Megan Grogan, Alice Pearce, Jessica Jenks. It’s remarkable to watch those ladies do what they do. I love being in acting class and witnessing breakthroughs or being in a really great rehearsal with a cast mate. That’s always promising when you get to be part of the creation of something honest and true. Even if it is just a great moment in a scene. Actors who inspire me are endless. Octavia Spencer is a fantastic actress and creator who I adore. I had the blessing of working with her once and she’s an even better human. Lovely doesn’t do her justice. I love watching Regina King. There’s a great example of an honest to God creator and storyteller. She’s accomplished so much in acting, directing, writing, and producing. That’s also how I feel about Shonda Rhimes, Boots Riley, Jim Carrey, Maggie Gyllenhaal. There are many more. I’m sure as soon as you publish this interview I’m going to think of more.

BGC: Why is it important as a Black person to create?

As Black people, we have such a specific and loaded way we walk through the world. The Hermione Series has such a beautiful tag line. It says “HGQLC - Write Your Own Ending.” I’ve always loved that because it gives power to the subject. As Black people it is our responsibility to take control of our story the best way we can. We must feed our communities the best and most honest images of ourselves to ourselves because images and representation matters. In the area of cinema, for years non-Black people have told their version of the Black experience and it has left us misrepresented.

BGC: How do you balance creating with the rest of your life?

It’s always a struggle to keep a balanced life. I have a tendency to obsess and quickly lose perspective but when I want to regain balance I plan my day to make sure I get everything I need in. Luckily for me in my particular art form, acting is about living so I know I can’t be a good actor if I’m not allowing myself to experience life and fun.

BGC: Have you been able to build a support system around yourself? What does that look like?

I feel so grateful for my support system. I have amazing representation, an amazing day job with super awesome and motivating coworkers who are actively pursuing their life goals. I also have super supportive family and friends who tell me they’re proud of me just for being myself. My sister is also a great support system, someone I can speak and think out loud with no fear of judgment. I could not be any luckier.

BGC: Any advice for young creators/ones just starting?

It takes 10,000 hours to be a professional at anything. So just put in the hours, however that may look. Either do it, read about it, watch a YouTube video on it, whatever you have to do to learn about your craft and get better.

BGC: Any future projects?

I’m going to be doing a remounting of the stage production Rotterdam at the historic Kirk Douglas Theater in Culver City. It’s a short run, performances run from March 28 - April 7th, but it’s such a blessing to revisit this work with such a remarkable group of people. It’s a super funny and insightful play about gender and love.

In the television world I just finished wrapping a new AMC series starring Zachary Quinto and Ashleigh Cummings called NOS4A2. I don’t know the exact date it is to be released but it’s happening soon. The series is based of the hit novel by Joe Hill and it centers around a teenager (Cummings) who uses supernatural abilities to track down the seemingly immortal Charlie Manx (Quinto), who steals children and deposits them in “Christmasland.” I play a Detective Tabitha Hutter trying to suss out the truth. This series has supernatural fantasy, horror, action/adventure, procedural, and family drama. Everything you want to see.

#actress #Harry Potter #theater #actor #New York City #London #Los Angeles #Black Woman Creator #create

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merigreenleaf · 6 years ago

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World Building June 2018 - Day 5, Civilizations & Architecture

Oddly enough, I talked a lot about this a week ago for a different writing challenge! I made this moodboard/info post about what the capital city of Concordia is like, so if you haven’t seen the colorful aesthetic that is Silveridge, check it out! That post got into what the city as a whole looks like, so in this one I’m going to focus on specific quarters/sections of the city that have a different feel to them.

Here’s a mini-moodboard to give an idea (from left to right) of the Artisan homes, the Protectorate homes, and the Caravanserai where the carnival performers in Silveridge live:

These aren’t quite the way I envision these locations, but they’ll help you see what I’m talking about. :) Click the read more to learn more!

I’ll start with the Artisans since they and their guild are the center of Silveridge. I mentioned in passing in my previous post about history that what later became the guild hall was the very first building built in the city and it originally housed the entire population of the country. (I have a post here with blueprints/maps of this building as it’s currently laid out. It’s massive- the size of a town- and holds so much stuff!) This building served as a safe home for the first people of Concordia, but eventually some of the would-later-become Artisans bravely decided to build outside the safety of the walls. They began to place their houses outwards from the guild in a kind of spiral shape. At this time the rivers were still prone to flooding, so for extra protection they built their houses on stilts and used boats to get from house to house, as well as to dock on the hill the original building rested upon. Just like how the guild hall is the original building from 450 years ago, many of the homes in the circle are still the originals.

That’s something that’s key to understanding Concordians and the Artisans in particular: they don’t get rid of anything if they can avoid it. Trends change, time passes, but they never discard the old. They just add the new right on top. In the case of their houses, literally on top. These houses were built upwards as generations passed, each adding another room or floor, with each addition a different style than the last, and each generation improving on the technology in the house. Even after the river receded and the land around their houses became soil, they never built downwards and any new Artisan house was built in the same elevated style. The reason for this is because all artists are bonded to a sentinel, their bodyguard/spouse, and sentinels tend to be gardeners. Plants are so important to them that their property is full of gardens and trees. The best way of telling where one family of Artisans lives verses another is to look at the gardens; their sentinel’s preference for plants will extend to the corner of their lot. The Artisan houses are all each unique and each painted brightly in eye catching (but aesthetically pleasing) colors. They probably look like they’re floating over a sea of color in the warmer months when the plants and flowers are in bloom. They also tend to look like they could fall over at any moment, but the buildings are safe because of the woodworking magic built into them.

Speaking of plants, that brings me to the Protectorates, the other oldest group in Concordia. All of the city is lined with plants and trees, and the Artisan section has even more, but if visitors to Silveridge think that the Artisans have a lot of plants, they haven’t been to the Protectorate neighborhood/quarter. Or possibly they have visited and just assumed it was a large, wild expanse of park! (To explain the connection, sentinels are one type of Protectorate; sentinels simply guard individual artists instead of art and trade in general like the other Protectorates.) In most places you’d expect the soldier-equivalent to live in neat orderly traditional-looking houses arranged in a nice grid pattern. Not Concordia’s soldiers. There is a long, flat, well-fortified one story bunker-type dwelling at the center of their “park”- this is also one of the city’s original buildings and it now houses some offices and the training ground. Way back at the beginning of Concordia’s history, after the area was safe and there was no more threat to the people who lived here, the Protectorates began building their homes in the style that best suited them. Being made of wood is the only similarity these houses have to the artisan ones. Since many Protectorates possessed Concordia’s native land-magic and this gives them super green thumbs, this involved building around nature and shaping nature into their homes. The picture has these houses on stilts, but while some of them might be, I think the majority are at ground level.

The other location in Silveridge I want to get into is the Caravanserai where the city-carnies live. All other carnival troupes travel around the country and continent in their hovering wagon homes. Silveridge, though, has a permanent troupe who perform in various venues and locations throughout the city. Their home is hidden in plain sight, disguised as a warehouse among a bunch of other warehouses that are filled with old art. (Like I said, Artisans don’t toss anything if it could potentially be useful in the future and after a while it just... stacks up.) This secrecy is partly to keep the performers from being followed home in a general annoying kind of way, but it’s mostly because this troupe has a second function: they’re reverse-thieves who return stolen and ill-gained art back to its creator. This is something I’ll get into later this month, but basically this building is disguised and the entrance nowhere near the building itself. This is across the river and there’s an underground tunnel leading to an illusioned wall at the end. Unless you know what to look for, you wouldn’t know that there’s a door there. Unless you know the knock and password, you wouldn’t be allowed in even if you did spot the door.

On the other side of this secret door is an open, grassy courtyard square. On two sides are the apartments of the carnies. Between these is the building that contains the communal kitchen (each apartment has one, too), the office of the troupe leader, rooms for records and organizing the art that needs to be returned to the artists, and group gathering rooms. I’m working under the assumption that the caravanserai was once a large inn, at least until the carnies tell me otherwise, but it could have actually been a warehouse at one time that was just rebuilt inside. The caravanserai buildings don’t follow any sort of decorating style found in the city because there isn’t any style to be found here. The carnies just have fun with paint and paint everything and their taste and talent definitely isn’t as good as is found in other parts of the city. It’s special to them, though, and they put their hearts into it because they paint murals and symbols and things that represent the carnies who live there. Everyone contributed something to this colorful mess and it makes this home uniquely their own. It’s a good thing not many Artisans enter the place because the lack of a unifying aesthetic would probably make them really uncomfortable!

The other cities and towns in Concordia are newer than Silveridge and each probably has its own distinct style based on its location. I haven’t worked out what these places look like yet, so maybe I’ll talk about that some other time. Ditto with what the cities look like on the rest of the continent- all stuff to figure out later as it becomes relevant. I hope this post wasn’t too confusing, but feel free to ask any questions if you have them! :)

If you’d like to be added to the list of people I tag for my worldbuilding stuff, let me know! If you’d like to be taken off, also let me know. And to my writeblr mutuals, please tag me in any writing related stuff you share, too! Stories, excerpts, worldbuilding, moodboards, I love seeing it all! <3 @ageekyreader @lynnafred @worldbuildingwren @theguildedtypewriter @toboldlywrite @wchwriter @ghostsmooches @lady-redshield-writes @bluemartlet @reeseweston @dreameronthewind @forlornraven @pen-for-sword @homesteadhorner @shadow-maker @loopyhoopydrabbles

Day 1 (Intro to my writing/series) / Day 2 (Geography) / Day 3 (People) / Day 4 (History)

#writing #writeblr #world building #worldbuildingjune #unexpected inspiration series #about my world #my writing ramblings #I'm a little behind on replies- I know I have a few things to answer/respond to #I'll get to that tomorrow :)#I hope this post makes sense but it's after midnight and my brain is now mush #I think I might reblog this in the morning when it's a normal hour lol #world building june

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littleredroseonthevalley · 7 years ago

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Red Rose - Chapter 12

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

Summary: The Court arrives at Applewood, the Royals’ summer retreat, for Presentation holiday. With the King to retire, the gambles at princely love game are raised and Madeleine show her fangs. Five years earlier, Charlotte comes to Cordonia for the first time, and faces some unwanted attentions.

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.

Notes: How do you do, esteemed readers? Are you ready for some drama? Great! Now, before anything else, I’d like to reiterate my invitation for your contribution to Red Rose Soundtrack, my askbox is still open! Not that it will ever be closed, but it is open.

I am also tagging @boneandfur, as so requested. I am considering opening a taglist next chapter, so if you’re interested, just leave a shout somewhere and I’ll add you. Bonus points if you say “KBBL is going to give me something stupid!”.

Without further ado, enjoy!

Le Berceuse, Avlona, Cordonia, Fall 2015

“I did not suppose I’d be meeting you here.” A woman’s voice came from behind, sending chills through his spine.

“Neither I, you.” He answered, keeping his cool. “What are you doing here, Charlotte?”

“The same as you, I suppose, Bertrand.” She said, sitting next to him. “Trying to exorcize some phantoms of my past.”

He laughed melancholically. “The doorstep of an abandoned house seems as good as a place as any other.”

“We both spent good days in here, you must admit.” She sighed. “I’m sorry for your father. And for your money problems.”

He gaped. “How on Earth did you know we were broke?”

She laughed. “We’re the Rosenbergs, we know everything.”

“I suppose that is why my father used to say whenever those blasted Austrians set foot in Cordonia, disaster strikes.” He grimaced. “Thank you for your sympathy, though. I really appreciate it.”

“A shame he felt so strongly against me, though. I was rather fond of Old Man Bart.” They laughed of the absurdity. “We used to be good friends, didn’t we?”

“I remember I enjoyed your company the best.” He recalled, with a fond smile on his face. “In fact, most people did.”

She snorted. “I don’t really know why, I’m a dubious snake. Though, I really liked you, too.”

“We’re all pretending out here.” Bertrand said, his mind going a mile a minute. Suddenly, he returns into himself, yet somewhat humorously. “My father told me once I should have married you. Can you imagine us, married?”

“Hey!” She shoved him, playfully. “I have you know I am a great wife! Not that you ever noticed, all your affection is dedicated to Little Miss Cinderella.”

Bertrand looked pointedly at Charlotte. “It’s Savannah.”

She laughed. “Are you past the point of denying it?”

“Would you believe me?”

“Of course, I would not.”

“Then what is the point?” He grumbled. “What is even your problem with her?”

“With Savannah? None.” She said, offhandedly.

“I gather you have a bone to pick with her brother, then.” He waited for his sentence to drop, and then continued. “About that girl who used to hang around you.”

“Yes, Linda Rosa.” She said, with fire on her eyes. “Drake has done an unspeakable crime against her, one that I don’t find in myself to forgive.”

“Where is she?” Bertrand asked, grave.

“To whomever asks me that, I say I do not know.” She shrugged.

“But you’re going to tell me the truth?”

“No.” Charlotte answered simply. “But I’m going to tell you that she hangs closer than any of us may think.”

“Does she desire retribution?” The weary man asks.

“I don’t think so. At least not that she knows of.” The blonde woman answered, confusingly.

“I hope she does.” Bertrand says, nihilist. “I am tired, Charlotte, I want an out.”

“There’s no way out for us, Bertrand.” She said, sadly. “I cannot leave my crappy marriage for the exact same reason why you cannot just let the Beaumont name plunder. For some absurd motive or another, we care about those aristocratic values we despise.”

“You could help me, though.” Bertrand said. “You could find Savannah, you could bring her back.”

She pulled her lips together. “I probably could, but I won’t. I may desire no ill to the girl, but she’s of much more benefit to me, and to herself, if she continues lost. I will help you, though.”

“How?” He asked, in mild frustration.

“I’ll make a Queen out of that girl of yours.”

Palace of the Brigades, Avlona, Cordonia, Fall 2015

“Bertrand, please, we’ve arrived very late last night, couldn’t you let Riley sleep for a little longer?” Maxwell’s voice resounded from the other side of Riley’s door.

It wasn’t that early, a little before 9 AM, but it was definitively earlier than when Maxwell used to knock on her door. And it was also true that they got in late, as Bertrand took the car and did not come back to pick them up. Consequently, Riley and Maxwell had to call a cab, and it took a while to find a driver who was willing to go all the way to Orikum, not to mention for them to actually get there from Avlona.

“Nonsense!” Bertrand bellowed. “She’s not in vacation! She wakes up when I tell her to!”

She rolled her eyes. Duke Ramsford was always so affable in his speech. Riley then marched to her door.

“Good morning, Bertrand.” She answered, fully dressed. “I see you had a good night’s sleep. Why don’t you come in? I was just getting ready for breakfast.”

Bertrand sneered, and the three people, the Beaumonts and a woman, entered and sat on Riley’s tea table.

Sitting on her made bed, Riley continued: “We missed you at yesterday’s festivities, Bertrand.”

“I’m sure my absence was absolutely heart-wrenching for you.” He grumbled.

“I certainly could have used a ride home. Aren’t you sad you missed out?” She asked, with a daring smile.

“Roasting in the sun while little boats go by is hardly what I’d consider stimulating.” He dismissed. “In fact, I wouldn’t have gone at all if I thought Maxwell could handle it on his own.”

“I can handle it…” Maxwell defended, overcast.

Bertrand barked at him. “Between forgetting to teach her the Cordonian Waltz and not warning her that she’d need swim attire, I’m starting to wonder if I can trust you with the most menial of tasks.”

Maxwell gaped. “How did you know about the swimsuit thing?”

“I have my ways!” Bertrand screamed. “And I’ll be keeping a closer look on Riley. So, clear your calendars, we need to prepare for the next event.”

Said girl rolled her eyes. “What event is that, since we’re on the subject.”

“Now, Lady Riley, we’ll be preparing you for the Feast of the Presentation.” The older man smirked wolfishly.

The Feast of the Presentation is an Orthodox religious holiday. The story relates that in thanksgiving for the birth of their daughter, Mary, Joachim and Anne decide to consecrate her to God, and bring her, at the age of three years, to the temple in Jerusalem. Mary remained in the Temple until her twelfth year, at which point she was assigned to Joseph as guardian.

Due to its date, December 4th, the Cordonians also celebrate it as the end of apple harvest season and the beginning of holiday season. Most churches throughout the country serve apple-based delicacies and promote fairs in celebration of the date.

Riley tried to focus on what Bertrand was saying. “Which reminds me, Lady Charlotte, may I present you Riley Flowers, she’s our contender this season. Riley, this is Charlotte Amelie Torelli, Duchess of Guastalla.”

Riley curtsies deeply. “Pleased to meet you, Your Grace.”

“The pleasure is all mine, miss Flowers.” The blonde responded, with a smug smile.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, Lady Charlotte, Maxwell.” Bertrand said and left.

“Very well!” Charlotte clapped. “Let’s start checking what you already know. Maxwell, would you be a lamb and bring me a cutlery set from the kitchens? It’ll give me more time to get to know Lady Riley.”

Maxwell beamed. “On it, ma’am!” He left.

Charlotte shut the door behind him. As his steps weren’t heard on the hallway anymore, the blonde girl started laughing scandalously.

“God, Riley, you’re an evil genius!” Charlotte said, in between laughs.

The black-haired smirked. “I take everything went as planned?”

“Perfectly so. Bertrand was drinking on the steps of Herring House, just as you predicted. He asked me about Savannah and Linda Rosa, and I conveniently maneuvered the conversation around you and how I could be of invaluable help.” She fished out an ID from her purse. “I’ve got clearance and everything.”

“Great. Now, let’s get on with our plan.” Riley went over to her trunk. From inside, she took a stack of papers. “Here, you publish them on the newspapers and on the dates I wrote on them.”

“Got it.” The blonde shoved the papers into her purse.

Riley handed her a post-it note. “Two days after you publish the first article, go to this address. It is in Orikum, by the marina. Over there, ask for two girls, Katya and Zarina. They’ll be of use for our plan. Be careful, though, do not go in without heavy artillery.”

The older woman twirled her hair. “Okay, get Katya and Zarina by any means necessary. And then what?”

“Then you’ll send them to the safehouse in Greece. I’ll set up everything they’ll need for the next phase there.”

“Very well.” Charlotte smiled wickedly. “Are you sure you want to do this? It is a path of no return.”

“Well, Charlotte, they invited the snake in. They should’ve known they would get bitten.”

Argyrocastron, Cordonia, Fall 2010

“Charlotte, I swear to God, if you don’t stop fidgeting, I’ll stab you with this pen.” Karen said, sternly, but did not spare her daughter a look. “I’m your mother and I gave you life, I am well within my right of taking it back.”

“Well, mother, if you had let me skip this odious event, I can assure you I wouldn’t be anywhere near your sights.” Charlotte spats.

“You don’t get to choose, Charlotte, and that’s final!” Her mother hollered. “Now, we are about to land. Collect yourself, there is bound to be press on the airport. With so many girls arriving today, they wouldn’t miss the opportunity to catch some on film, and it would be detestable for you to be discarded as soon as you arrive.”

“Careful, mother, you’re giving me ideas.” She smirked.

“Oh, believe me, Charlotte, I am not, for if it is in anyway unpleasant for me, it will be ten times worse for you.” The woman threatened.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. Concluding that her antagonizing would not lead her to any positive outcome, she stood up to take her luggage out of the carrier. In the bag, there was her make-up, some medicine, and a green ascot with a gold and ruby stud.

She applied the make-up to disguise her tired look, used a brush to soften her long, blonde hair, took a calming draught, and covered herself with the long ascot.

Karen undergoes through similar procedures, and soon enough both women were ready to get off the plane. The aged Princess is the first one out, to lure paparazzo. When she was two steps down, Charlotte took a deep breath and appeared off the plane’s door.

A supernova-worth of flashes went on that moment. The police were barely containing the barrage of journalists vying for a statement from the young woman.

The Rosenberg Investment Fund was the most important foreign investor in the Balkans, controlling a sizeable chunk of Cordonia’s sovereign debt, building billions of Euros worth of infrastructure works, and having an important role in the financing of apple orchards and other agricultural produce by the national nobility.

All in all, it did not take a very good of an analyst to figure out Ludwig and Karen Rosenberg were more powerful in Cordonia than the King himself.

Their daughter’s debut in the country’s social season was a strong, if confusing, signal. To social, political and economic press alike. What was on their mind, what that even mean, is the feeling racing through the hearts and minds of every journalist on Central Europe.

Charlotte herself was somewhat of a sui generis figure: while far from a strange to European tabloids, having had an army of boyfriends and suitors, never the Rosenberg name was sullied in such a publication. In fact, aside from being a cocotte, the common reader of those magazines would be hard-pressed to find a character flaw in her behavior.

Whether this is because of Charlotte’s moral fiber or Rosenbergs’ far-reaching, strong-arming tentacles remains unknown.

That morning, however, was not the time for statements, and mother and daughter hurried to the car waiting by the airfield lane.

As the vehicle makes its hour-long journey for Brigade Hill, Karen lectures her offspring. “Charlotte, let us talk strategy.”

“If we must.” The youngest responded, with a disinterested look to the passing scenario.

Karen considered an intervention but decided to pick her battles. “You have all of our family’s resources at your service, so I expect you to perform well. And when I say for you to perform well, I do not mean for you to win, lest of all we marry into that problem of a Royal Family, but I do mean for you to throw the Court, the country and the world a show of grace and nobility. I want you to assert our dominance over the Crown, do you understand?”

“Perfectly, mother. It shall be done as you desire.” She grumbled.

“Very well, then.” Karen smiled, satisfied. “I will not be able to accompany the whole time you’ll be here, I have to attend to your father, but I’ll be here as often as I am able. Focus on Leo and the other contenders, leave Constantine and Regina to me. Do you remember the data we collected on the Prince?”

“Foolish, ill-prepared, independent thinker, prone to disappearances, a rebel.” Charlotte recited, unamused. “To I have to go on?”

Karen narrowed her eyes. “No, it is quite enough. I take you know why you must do this spectacle?”

“To punish me for some bad karma of lives past?”

“Don’t be silly.” She scoffed. “You must assert our power in Cordonia. We have much to lose in an upheaval, and your presence demonstrate to powers, established or otherwise, that we are mindful of our investments and will not stand for the dilapidation of our rights and estates.”

As Karen finished her piece, the car did a turn and they entered Le Berceuse, the neighborhood at Brigade Hill’s feet. A small crowd leaned from the large sidewalks of the closed avenue, so they could take a peek of Europe’s great and finest, not to mention their future Queen.

“Go on, Charlotte. Open the window and wave at the people.” The older woman commanded.

Charlotte gritted her teeth. “As you wish, mother.”

Applewood, Neokastron, Cordonia, Fall 2015

The following weekend, the Beaumonts were on their way to the Royal Family’s summer retreat. Waking from a nice nap, Riley stretch her arms and yawn.

“How long until we arrive?” She asks. “I’m growing restless.”

While not the longest trip they’ve made this season, as the distance between Valona and Applewood did not reach 150 kilometers, it was one of the most unpleasant. The roads through the mountains were terrible, and there were no rest stops on their way.

“We’re almost there, Riley.” Maxwell eagerly responded. “Believe me, I’m as anxious as you to get out of this car, especially because we’re going to Applewood!”

“Is that really the name of the Royal Family’s country manor? I kinda expected something out of the Illiad or something.” She asked.

Bertrand rolled his eyes, as it was his go-to expression these days. “It’s decidedly appropriate. Applewood Manor borders the largest apple orchard in the entire kingdom, and that’s where they first cultivated the apple varietal Cordonia is most famous for.”

“The Cordonian Ruby.” Riley confirmed. “They used it for some upscale pies and ciders back in New York.”

“Yes, that is the one. The Cordonian Ruby is a red varietal that’s pleasant crisp with an intense flavor that has notes of honeyed caramel.” Bertrand said, excitedly for once.

Riley was eager to remind him it was only but an apple, but she bit back the remark. Instead, she said: “You know, that’s probably the most poetic thing you’ve ever said.”

“Certain subjects call for a little poetry.” Bertrand commented. “Now, I trust Lady Charlotte taught you to exhaustion your role this weekend?”

“Yes, emphasis on exhaustion.” Riley responded. “Which reminds me, where is she?”

“Charlotte went to Italy for the weekend.” Maxwell provided. “She said she was tired and missed her home.”

She lied, of course. She’d sooner miss a cancer than she would Federigo.

“Not less than expected, for her to be tired, of course. Since the King’s announced his retirement, everything has changed, and that must reflect on your training.” The eldest of them lectured.

Riley was trying to forget about that particular development, not that it has been easy. “That is very worrying, yeah. I saw the King talking to Liam about it at the beach party.”

That seemed to peak Bertrand’s interest. “Really? What do you know about it?”

Such eagerness rose suspicion in Riley’s mind. Bertrand was still scrapping for cash, and as such wasn’t trustworthy with sensitive realm information. “Nothing of importance,” She said. “The King sent me packing before he said anything, and I haven’t spoken to Liam ever since. Actually, I haven’t seen him around much lately.”

“He’s probably busy with preparations for the last leg of the season.” Maxwell cheerily commented.

“That’s precisely the reason we need to make a more concerted effort. We’re no longer playing for the title of Princess. If Riley marries him, she will be Queen. The stakes are higher than ever. We must succeed.” Bertrand said, fierce. “Now, the other ladies are only going to get more competitive, so you need to be ready. We’re running out of time, after all. It’s December, there’s only a month and a half until Theophany.”

“I don’t know whether I feel like it’s been a long or a short time.” Riley contemplates.

“Time runs differently when you’re jet-setting around Cordonia.” Maxwell commented.

“Well, no matter.” Riley dismissed the thought. “What’s the game plan for today?”

“No time to play coy. Spend as much time with Liam as possible.” Maxwell oriented.

“But if you cannot do that, try to not get in trouble.” Bertrand said, sternly.

Riley narrowed her eyes at him. “Darn it, I was so excited by the prospect of setting Regina’s hair on fire!”

Maxwell snickered, but Bertrand rolled his eyes. “Quiet, you. According to my reports, you, Olivia and Madeleine are the frontrunners.”

“But Riley and Liam have a special connection.” Maxwell countered.

“His Royal Highness isn’t the only one who matters.” Bertrand lectured. “Olivia and Madeleine may not be the foremost in the Prince’s heart, but they are popular with other royals, the nobles and the Parliament. Which means they’re both going to try to undermine you, Riley.”

“Nothing new under the sun, then.” Riley commented, disillusioned. “Though, I must confess, I don’t have much intel on Madeleine.”

“Her parents are high Cordonian nobility, which is where she gets her courtesy title of Countess. Her family is powerful, one of the five original noble families in the realm.” Bertrand provided.

“The ones descended from the medieval kings who fought with Napoleon against the Turks, I take it?” Riley asked.

Bertrand hummed. “Yes, the Royal Family and the other four, the Fydelians, the Nevrakis, the Thornes and the Blackspine Lords. As I was saying, Madeleine also grew up immersed in the intrigues and maneuverings of courtly life. Don’t underestimate her. She’s used to winning.

“Anyway, you won’t be able to avoid either lady in public but try your best to keep your cool and be diplomatic, especially when the press is around. You’ve done remarkably well, but there’s still room to fail.” Bertrand finished his speech.

Riley nodded, as the car made a turn and begins to slow down.

“We’re here!” Maxwell celebrated.

Exiting the car, the three noblepeople step onto the sprawling estate of Applewood Manor. A large, stone-gray manor house stands elegantly amidst manicured gardens, and beyond it, orchards to wherever the eye can see stretch out.

“It is an imposing residence.” Riley commented.

Maxwell motioned around. “This is Applewood, where we’ll be staying for the next few weeks.”

Maxwell and Riley pick up the luggage from the car and cross the long packed-dirt driveway leading to the manor.

“Now we should settle in quickly.” Bertrand oriented. “The Feast of the Presentation will last today and tomorrow, and the first event is this afternoon.”

“What kind of apple-themed, fun activities are we talking about?” Riley asks, barely containing the irony.

“Delicious ones!” Maxwell says. “Apple picking, apple pie baking, apple tree planting.”

“We Cordonians take our traditions very seriously. Be sure to show enthusiasm for all the events.” Bertrand warned. “That starts with finding something suitable to wear.”

“Way ahead of you, Bertrand.” Riley dismissed. “I’ve got just the thing in my bag. I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”

Palace of the Brigades, Avlona, Cordonia, Fall 2010

“For all of comfort and opulence, why no-one ever thinks of putting a minibar on the guest rooms?” Charlotte thought, frustrated, while she tried to find her way to the kitchens on the pitch-black darkness of the Cordonian night.

It was little before 2 AM, she was parched with thirst and her handmaid had since long retired for the night. She couldn’t find a single servant on her way down to, at the very least, point her in the right direction. Thankfully, she hadn’t crossed with a guard either, she’d be hard-pressed explaining to them why she was up so late, wandering the halls on her sleepwear.

Charlotte got down a flight of stairs, one she believed was the service one, carefully going one step at a time. A short walk later and she finally found the switcher. She was in the kitchens.

“Hallelujah.” She breathed out.

She poured herself a glass of water, swallowed it greedily and poured yet another. As she was savoring her second, less desperate cup, she spotted a light coming from a door on the other side of the room.

Her curiosity once more got the best out of her, as Charlotte soon found herself opening that door. On the other side, there was a room smaller than a cupboard, having only a hole on the floor and some rustic stairs downwards. A clinking noise came from the underground, and Charlotte followed it, curious as to find out what was it.

At the bottom, there was a wide room, a wine cellar. Shelves and shelves filled to the brim with bottles of wine, champagne and other distilled drinks. There, in the center, there was a table and a man appreciating a tumbler.

“Prince Leo!” She recognized.

“Is this how it’s going to be now?” Leo complained. “Girls propositioning me on their evening wear? Not that I particularly mind, but it never had happened before. Kudos for being innovative.”

Charlotte covered herself, uncomfortable. “I have you know I am not propositioning anybody. I came for some water and saw the light on. I need no subterfuge to have a man in my bed.” She sneered.

He laughed, ironically. “Mighty speech you have.”

“I am Charlotte Amelie von Rosenberg, I am entitled to it.” She smiled, wolfishly.

“Lady Charlotte.” He hummed. “My father said I should be nice to you. I think a grown man to fear a small girl is stupid.”

“I courteously disagree, Your Majesty.” She used the title ironically. “I believe it is wise to fear a little girl, especially when that specific little girl could foreclose your family at whim. Wouldn’t it be humiliating? To beg to the nation for a stipend, just because you cannot be bothered to be fiscally responsible?”

His expression darkened. “Don’t be assuming.”

“Oh, you think I lie?” She haughtily asks. “Go ahead, ask your father. You’ll have a nice surprise.”

“That’s why you came here? To vulture our debt?” He asked.

“I prefer calling it ‘protecting my interests’, but yes. That’s why I came, but I’ll stay for a completely different reason.” She stole a glass of distilled off of the table. “Seeing you suffer your slow walk to an inevitable fate seems more enjoyable every minute.”

With that said, she downs her drink, turns on her heels and leaves the room.

Applewood, Neokastron, Cordonia, Fall 2015

Dressed to impress, Riley got down the stairs two steps at a time. She wore a white, long, richly embroidered tunic and a pair of brown, high boots.

At the orchards, she is escorted past a crowd of people eagerly awaiting the beginning of the Feast of the Presentation. All the ladies vying for Liam’s hand stand in a loose semi-circle under the shade of a large apple tree.

As often is, Riley is late, and the only place left is between Olivia and Madeleine. A rock and a hard place as it ever were.

Olivia soured at the sight of Riley. “Shouldn’t you be in the back somewhere with Drake and the other commoners?”

“Shouldn’t you be in a pound with the other rabid fry dogs?” Riley asked, faux-sweetly.

Olivia seemed every bit like a rabid dog ready to pounce, but Madeleine shushed them. “It’s starting.”

Riley forced herself to pay attention to the King and Queen standing in the center of their girl-circle, proudly smiling near several wicker baskets full of brilliant red apples. The press throngs around you, quieting as the King raises his arm.

“Welcome to the annual Feast of the Presentation!” The man announced.

Regina smiled, rehearsedly, from Constantine’s side. “As is tradition,” She says. “Myself and several ladies will sample the apples of the last picking of the season.”

The church attendants, who accompany the parish priest and the Royal Family to the event, distribute apple slices to the suitors.

“It’s so red, it really is like a ruby.” Riley noticed the peel on her slice.

“Looks delicious.” Hana commented, from next to Olivia.

“Oh, it is!” The redheaded said. “I cannot wait for you to try it.”

Suspicious, to say the least.

“You know, I actually look forward to this every year.” Madeleine diplomatically remarked.

“Ladies, if you will, please try your apples.” Regina gave the sign.

Every reporter, cameraman and photographer looked eagerly at the group, ready to register their reactions.

As Riley put the fruit on her mouth, she knew why Olivia was so eager for them to eat it. It was very bitter and very sour, acidic. She then recalled every time she’d seen a Cordonian apple being served, it had been cooked to exhaustion. It was not the type of food to be eaten raw.

Channeling her inner child, the one who was kept in the table until finished her meal and said her graces, Riley swallowed and smiled brightly at the cameras surrounding her.

“Absolutely delicious.” She declared, seeming every bit as natural as it wasn’t really.

“It looks like you enjoyed the Cordonian Ruby, Lady Riley?” A reporter asked her.

“It certainly has character!” She said, admiring her own wit.

Hana, however, wasn’t as covert. “I wasn’t expecting such a sour taste.” She complained.

“The last crop of the season always has a particular bite to it.” Madeleine said, always with a smile. “I rather like the taste, personally.”

“You would.” Olivia sneered.

The King clears his throat, calling the attendees to attention. “It looks like our ladies enjoyed their apples.” Constantine announced, and Riley forced a snicker away. “I’d like to extend a special thanks to our apple growers and farmers for preserving our noble tradition.”

“And, with that, I wish you all a happy Presentation.” Regina said, wrapping the ceremony.

“Eísodos tís Panagías Theotókou.” The priest said, and the attendees repeated, gravely.

It is the Virgin Mary, they acknowledged.

With that, the sovereign couple left with the parson, while the parishioners dispersed. The Presentation was their opportunity to visit the gardens of Applewood and to steal one or another apple still on the branches.

The press, however, hounded around the women, with special note to Olivia, Madeleine and Riley herself.

“Would it be alright if we ask you some questions?” Donald Brine, Riley recalled, came forward.

“Of course.” Madeleine said, enthusiastically. “The Fydelian Estate has always generously supported the Cordonian Broadcasting Center. I look forward to your favorable report.” She underhandedly threatened.

“And I haven’t forgotten the amazing article about the Nevrakis family history in Trend several years back.” Olivia flashed a shark-like smile, as her weapon of choice seemed to be bribery.

“Your family has always been as fashionable as it is noble.” Ana de Luca praised.

Remembering Bertrand’s words, Riley smiled innocently. “Well, Mr. Brine, Ms. De Luca, while I do not have a history with your respective media, I can give you a compelling story. After all, I do not recall hearing about someone of my background on this competition before.”

This seemed to spike de Luca and Brine’s attention. “Trend would be interested in your insights as someone on the inside, Lady Riley.” The blonde said.

Madeleine soon intervened. “Lady Riley makes an excellent point, and I’d like to remind everyone that we all have a relationship with the Prince who could provide a unique spin.”

“Yes, I’ve been Liam’s friend since childhood.” Olivia offered.

“And I, myself, am close to the Prince and have the pleasure of calling the Queen my friend.” Madeleine countered. “Now, any other questions?”

“You’ve been at court enjoying all the events the social season has to offer and competing for the Prince’s attention.” Brine said. “At this stage, who do you think the Prince will choose?”

“In my outlook, Mr. Brine, I believe Liam will choose the one who’s going to make the best Queen. The Prince is loyal and dedicated. He’ll do what’s best for his country and people.” Riley commented, earnestly.

“But you’re still wishing it’ll be you?” de Luca follow-up.

“Of course, but I know the Prince will do whatever is right. It is on me to be worthy of being his choice.” She responded.

That seemed to delight Ana de Luca. “Can I quote you on that?”

“Sure.”

“Very well-put, Lady Riley.” Madeleine used her passive-aggressive tactic again. “I know I find the Prince’s devotion to cause and country inspiring.”

“As do we all, Lady Madeleine. That’s it for questions.” Ana de Luca wrapped up.

“Thank you, ladies. Especially you, Lady Riley. Your answers were quite interesting.” Donald Brine praised.

“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Brine.”

The reporters walk off. Olivia glares at Riley, while Madeleine preferred a considering stance.

“That was… informative.” Madeleine said. “Lady Riley, you answered with such grace and poise. It was rather enviable. I only hope you can keep it up without any mishaps. Some women cannot handle the pressure.”

“Oh, believe me, Lady Madeleine, while I lack all your natural flare, I am as sturdy and as determined as it gets.” Riley countered with her own veiled threat.

“If either of you think you’ve won, you’ve got another thing coming.” Olivia barked with her usual impulsiveness.

“Oh, Olivia, dear. I think we all know where we stand. May the best woman win.” Madeleine says, turns on her heels and leave.

Olivia shakes her head and stalks in the opposite direction, while Riley sights Maxwell and Bertrand waiting on the sidelines.

“You did well up there with the press. Madeleine did not shake you.” Bertrand praised.

“Yeah, but she spun everything positively for herself.” Riley countered.

“Still, this gives me hope.” He said.

“So, what happens now?” She asked.

“Right now, I suggest you and Maxwell go down this path and enjoy a stroll through the gardens. I have in good authority that the Prince is there now. I’ll catch up with you later.” Bertrand oriented.

Maxwell then latched onto Riley’s arm. “Come on, I’ll show where to go!”

Hippodrome Colline de Miel, Phoenike, Cordonia, Fall 2010

“I do not know why your father complains so,” The womanly voice came from the fence of the round pen. “I find it very easy to find you. The secret is finding the most secluded place, preferably devoid of blue-blooded people.”

The man led the horse to the point closest to the girl. “Lady Charlotte, it is always a pleasure seeing you.”

She snickered. “Oh, Leo, you’re a filthy liar, but thank you for the sentiment. It is nice to see you too, Prince Liam.” She greeted the other young man on the pen.

“Good afternoon, Lady Charlotte.” The youngest acknowledged the woman but kept his distance. Something told him they would appreciate the privacy.

“I do not lie, Lady Charlotte. I find your presence refreshing, actually.” He smiled, flirty.

“I live to please, Your Highness.” She gave him a smile of her own.

“Why aren’t you at the races?” He asked.

Charlotte laughed heartily. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I never am where I am supposed to be. I wouldn’t want to disappoint everybody by doing what I should do.”

“It would take most of the fun of the season, I must admit.” She said, with a tint of irony. “In the name of isonomy, I must tell you I find horse races so very boring! After the thousandth lap, I could not take it anymore and tried to find something to amuse me.”

“I must not disappoint then.” He told her. “Do you wish to ride?”

“If there is an available horse, yes, I would like it very much.”

A stable hand brought her a brown, vigorous mare. Due to her state of dress, a tight, mid-calves skirt, Charlotte had to sidesaddle the horse. Her aristocratic training, however, gave her a faultless posture on the saddle.

“You are a vision of grace, Lady Charlotte.” Liam commented.

“Thank you, Liam. You are too kind.” She smiled at him.

“Leo, don’t you think you should show Lady Charlotte the Apolonian Ruins?” Liam suggested. “I would accompany you, but I suppose one of us should be with Father at the Downs, and the Derby must be about to end.”

“Oh, that would be lovely!” Charlotte exclaimed, eagerly.

“Well, if you insist, sure.” Leo said. “Besides, I don’t mind an excuse to be away from here when Father when he noticed I slipped away and I hadn’t even looked to the other girls.”

Leo and Charlotte started trotting to the gate, while Liam got down of his horse. A few meters away from the pen, already going through a small forested area, Charlotte commented: “The girls are growing restless, you know? You must be the most unengaging suitor ever to exist!”

“It’s hard to be engaging when you’re really not that interested.” He shrugged.

“That I could notice. But there’s the thing, you’re being pursued by Europe’s most eligible women, one might think you’d be at least glad about that.” She said, in a mockery stance.

“They’re all so pretty, and yet so unbearably boring.” He complained.

Charlotte snickered. “You still haven’t met them properly. They seem all dull and empty-headed, but once you get to know them, you notice they’re self-centered, too.”

“Have you met Madeleine yet?” He asks.

“Madeleine of Fydelia? Oh, yeah, I’ve been introduced.” She scoffed. “If I was serious about this thing, I’d might even fear her.”

“Typical Madeleine. When Regina married my father, she came to live with us. She and I go way back.” He commented.

“So little Madeleine was just as domineering as 30-year-old Madeleine?”

“Perhaps even more. She used to raise Hell on the Palace, ever so willful. No-one convinces me that she wasn’t the one who drove Olivia Nevrakis away just for spite.”

“I have no trouble believing that.” Charlotte snickered. “How about Liam? He seems a nice boy, but so very…” She struggled to find the word. “Shy, I guess. Meek.”

“Liam is very conscientious.” Leo said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that dedication to duty in anyone else, and that’s admirable in its own way, but all that obsession with his part to play turned him into a resigned person. He does not believe he’s allowed to aspire outside his public persona, and that causes him an unnamable amount of melancholy.”

“I understand, it is so very sad.” She said, in a low tone. “But he is the second-born, he should be entitled to some reprieve.”

“Yeah, second-born.” He grumbled.

Charlotte looked pointedly at him. “I know you’re not that thrilled about being king, and I get it. Aristocratic life is exhausting enough, I cannot fathom to rule a country, but don’t you think you should at least look the part?”

“The thing is, I don’t feel that icy disposition to sacrifice my life for the greater good like Liam, nor I am a glory hound like my father.” He defended.

“And what do you feel, then, Leo? What do you want to do in life?” Charlotte enquired.

“I feel a fire in my heart. I feel drawn to extreme emotions, I am not made for that lukewarm, constant life Regina and my father sing praise of.”

Charlotte considered Leo’s statement silently for a minute, and then says: “Careful with what you wish for.”

Applewood, Neokastron, Cordonia, Fall 2015

Maxwell and Riley walked arm-in-arm through the cobbled path, when they heard an agitated voice.

“Hold on, Maxwell.” Riley pulled on his arm. “Isn’t that Bertrand with Ana de Luca, from Trend?” She motioned with her chin across the path.

Over at a somewhat-discreet, wooded area, Bertrand screamed as loud as his whispering voice could stand. “Ana, you’re being unreasonable!”

“Not the way I see it.” She sneered.

Bertrand turns angrily and storms off, and Riley whispers to Maxwell: “Looks like something’s going on. Do you know what’s up?”

“Not really…” He responded, in a similar voice. “Bertrand doesn’t let me get involved with House Beaumont stuff. He thinks I’d just screw up.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s just stupid!” She said, forsaking her indoor voice.

“I kind of see his point.” He lamented. “I am kind of a screw-up.”

“That’s still stupid, Maxwell. You’re every bit as capable of helping as Bertrand. Not to mention you’re every bit as a Beaumont, too. You’re entitled to it!” Riley argued.

He looks over where Ana was standing. “It does look like things didn’t go well with that reporter… maybe I could help. But I don’t want to distract you, we were supposed to be going find the Prince.”

“Oh, well, Liam can wait. Let’s go.” She pulled Maxwell over to Ana.

“Do you really think we should do it?” He asked, insecure.

She stopped and faced him, looking deep into his eyes and placing her two hands in either of his arms. “Maxwell, I know you want to help your brother. I trust you, and I’m here to help you on the odd chance from you doing something stupid, so let’s do it.”

He smiled at her. “Thanks for coming with me, Riley. I hate awkward situations.”

As Riley and Maxwell approach the reporter, the blonde turns to the black-haired. “Lady Riley, what a surprise. Did you want to add to your earlier comments?”

“Yes, Ms. De Luca. I’m actually here with my friend, Maxwell.” She responded, diplomatically. “We wanted to see if you’d be willing to share some information with us.”

“Straight to the point. I like that.” The blonde smiled, deviant. “First off, if we’re talking off the record, just call me Ana.”

“It’d be my pleasure, Ana.” Riley said, with a smile of her own. “I wanted to know what you and Bertrand were arguing about.”

“Bertrand’s always been very concerned with how the world sees him and his house.” Ana explained. “Let’s just say that my view of what’s currently going on don’t exactly match with the image he wants the world to see.”

“So, you know that we’re broke.” Maxwell summed up.

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but yes. What happens to the Beaumont House is Cordonian news.” The blonde said.

Maxwell grumbled. “We’re not really that important.”

Ana scoffed. “I beg to differ. Royal connections, a political office, a traditional surname, an, albeit dilapidated, enviable fortune. There’s much to covet. Besides, Bertrand and his playboy shenanigans made House Beaumont stand out. He catapulted your family name into the spotlight.

“Good or bad, everyone wants to know what’s going on with you. And I happen to think that people deserve to know the truth. But Bertrand doesn’t see it that way. He was furious.”

“Maxwell?” Riley said, softly. “Would you mind excusing me and Ana?”

He looked at his black-haired companion, distressed. “What? Why?”

“I have something private to talk to her.” She responded, simply. “It will only take a minute.”

Maxwell seemed to consider it, and came close to deny it, but conceded and gave them some space.

Looking at Ana, Riley commenced. “You know, I was very hurt when you did not mention my article about Cordonian human trafficking this morning.”

“Lady Riley, you seem a smart girl. Surely you’ve noticed the overall silence pact we, the press, keep on such subjects. Dēmokratía is the only one who’s borderline insane enough to publish such a piece.” Ana said, somewhat fearful.

“It’s a pity, really.” Riley faux-lamented, taking a manila envelope from her purse and handing it to her. “I was so sure you’d like in this, and I am all for isonomy. Perhaps you’d be interested in publishing it.”

Ana peeked into the envelope. “Mother of God!” She backtracked, in astonishment. “Is this the truth?”

“There is more than enough proof inside to sustain a story.” Riley said, smiling devilishly. “This can be all yours, if you promise to keep the Beaumont piece away from the print. Permanently.”

“No… no, I couldn’t.” She closed the envelope, but still held it firmly against her body. “I could end up deported, or even dead. You too, for that matter.”

“The government couldn’t shut down every paper and kill off every journalist. The pact is held by an unstable balance, and you know it. It is bound to be broken sooner or later, and the day draws close. You could be the first, Ana, all you must do is to keep the Beaumonts’ secret and this envelope will be all yours.” Riley offered, seductively.

“How… how can you be sure the others will publish material, too?” The blonde asked, uncertain.

“I am laying the ground with them. All they need is one single scandal, and all Hell breaks loose.”

Ana looked at Riley but couldn’t sustain it. Finally, she caved. “You have a deal.”

“I knew you would see reason, Ana. It has been a pleasure doing business with you.” And, with that, the young woman left to join Maxwell over at the garden fountain.

He looked at Riley expectantly. “So? What did she say?”

She smiled at him. “Ana might as well take that secret to her grave.”

Maxwell beamed and hugged and twirled Riley, laughing cheerfully. “Thank you, little blossom, thank you so much!”

Herring House, Le Berceuse, Avlona, Cordonia, New Year’s Eve 2010

“I was beginning to think I wouldn’t meet you at all tonight.” The voice came from behind Bertrand.

“Charlotte.” He acknowledged. “You don’t know how glad I am for you to be here.”

She laughed. “Because I am Charlotte or because I am Rosenberg?”

The man fought against the blush. “Both, actually.”

“Be as it may, I’m happy to be here, too.” She smiled at him, teasingly. “How are you liking your own party?”

He smiled smugly. “Well, I am known to throw killer parties. And you? How are you feeling being the frontrunner for Prince Leo’s hand?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” She laughed it off.

“In three months, you’re the only girl he spent more than five minutes with.” Bertrand pointed out. “Besides, he likes you.”

“Yes, he likes me, not loves me.” Charlotte said.

He shrugged. “Theophany’s two weeks away. It’s too late in the game to pick up anyone else.”

“Well, I believe there’s much that could happen in a fortnight.” She smiled. “I see Prince Liam is in attendance.”

“Yes, he’s friends with Maxwell.” He said and, faced with Charlotte’s confusion, continued: “I don’t believe you’ve met him, he’s my younger brother.”

“I didn’t know you had a sibling!” She said, cheerful. “Where is he?”

“He didn’t attend the court anymore.” He said, with a rather uncharacteristic harshness.

Charlotte noted the sensibility of the subject and turned thoughtful. “I did not interact much with the younger Prince, as I am often with Leo, and he’s often away from the social functions, but the little I know him, he seems to shy away from attention, female or otherwise.”

“He is very different from Leo.” Bertrand commented. “But why do you say that?”

“I am curious about him. Leo did not indulge me in my interest, so I thought I could use some subterfuges.”

Bertrand considered probing further, but decided against, preferring to say: “I don’t know if I can be of much help. I am not very close to him, not like Maxwell.”

Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t need to know anything very personal, it’s just that, with what Leo has shared, I wonder if he’s ever had a relationship.”

“He had some girlfriends, to my recollection. Flings, a lengthier relationship with Olivia Nevrakis, the Duchess of Lythikos.” Bertrand provided. “I cannot say for sure. Maxwell never said anything about it, and everything was so very discreet, but I think it is very unlikely it did not happen.”

She tutted. “I see. But enough about Court gossip. I want to know what’s been going on with the Count of Cherbourg.”

“A man of my station hardly goes without.” He responded, with a tint of lasciviousness.

“So, I’ve heard. But that,” She paused and looked to the side. “Is not what I wanted to know.”

He looked over to where she was pointing with her eye. Savannah was talking excitedly to a noblewoman. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Look, Bertrand, I might not like the girl, nor really know what on Earth do you see in her, but you following her around with puppy eyes is borderline pathetic. Grow a pair and ask her to dance.”

Before Bertrand could say anything, though, a bunch of partygoers appeared and rushed him to the staircase for a New Year’s toast.

Charlotte glinted knowingly at him from the multitude of party-goers and then disappeared.

Applewood, Neokastron, Cordonia, Fall 2015

A short walk later, Maxwell left Riley at a small Japanese garden at the edge of the orchards. She supposed it was a beautiful retreat on Spring, when the cherry trees were in bloom.

The place was quiet, with only a few birds chirping on the trees and the water from a stream flowing through the rocks.

No sign of Liam.

“Where might he be?” Riley asked Maxwell. “He’s been strange since the Regatta, and I’m starting to get worried.”

“Bertrand said he’d be around. Don’t worry, I’ll look for him, just wait here.” Maxwell untangled his arm from hers and walked back the path.

When he wandered away, Riley looked to her surroundings and saw a small gazebo nestled discreetly amongst some rocks. Walking over there, she spotted Liam looking contemplatively at a still pond of golden fish.

“Liam?” She called.

“Riley!” He responded, surprised.

“Is there something wrong?” She asked, coming closer.

“No. It’s just…” He paused, trying to organize his thoughts. “It’s nothing, never mind.”

She laughed, melancholically. “When will you realize that line don’t work on me? Come on, you’re worried with something. What is it?”

He sighed. “Riley, can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” She smiled, mirthfully. “But yeah, ask away.”

He composed the question most carefully. “Do you… do you think you could handle being Queen of Cordonia? Truly?”

“That’s a good question.” She mumbled, thoughtfully. “It’s hard to tell, I haven’t been around for long, and there’s no Queen School for me to attend. But I’d like to think that yeah, I could.”

Liam seemed to take on her response. “That’s… good.”

“Is that what’s been on your mind recently?” She asked. “Theophany?” The word’s significance weighed on them both.

“That’s part of it.” He admitted. “But as for the rest, I… it’s not something I can talk about. With anyone. But trust me, if I could… you’d be the one I’d like to tell.”

She dropped her body to the ground and sat against the railing of the gazebo. “I’d like to tell you that you can trust me, that nothing could be that dramatic, that you can tell me anything. But you can’t, can you? I cannot be trusted with sensitive information, and everything can, and most probably is, that dramatic.”

He kneeled in front of her but did not say a thing.

She hugged his leaning body. “I’m sorry, Liam.”

The man did not have to ask what she was sorry about. “Honestly, it’s fine. Anyway, it’s just boring royal business. Not worth bothering you in any case.”

She nodded. “Well, then, I suppose I could accompany you to a tour of the gardens.”

He smiles, excitedly, and offer her his arm. She took it and they walked away from the gazebo and wind their way through the flowers.

“I’ve always loved the view here.” Liam commented.

“It must be pretty in April, with the blossoms.” Riley said. “I’ve never seen so many fruit trees!”

“I wish I could stay here all day, but…”

Riley prepared to hear Olivia’s name. “But?”

“I have plans to meet Drake.” He said, and Riley couldn’t help but feel rather relieved.

“Oh.” She breathed. “I didn’t mean to impose.”

“You’re welcome to come with.” Liam beamed. “He’d probably be happy to see you. He sort of dreads this day every year.”

“Why? Is he allergic to apples or morally against abandonment of minors in religious temples?”

“He does like apples, and I don’t know his position on child services.” He smiled. “Actually, today’s Drake’s birthday.”

It was only then that the date came rushing to her head. Today was December 4th, 2015. She completely forgot about her own birthday, November 2nd. Well, her true birthday, she’d have to look at her passport to see when Riley was born.

Her frown must be very pronounced, for Liam made a worried face and asked: “Riley, is there something on the matter?”

She blinked twice, as if she just returned to her own body. “No, no, nothing. It’s just that I just remembered I missed somebody’s birthday last month. Well, anyway, we should go out and celebrate!”

“Drake isn’t really the type to celebrate.” Liam said. “He usually spends the day hiding out in his room. Sometimes I’m able to convince him to have a drink with me, but that’s about as far as it goes.” The Prince looked over at the entrance of the Japanese garden. “Ah, there he is now.”

Drake, Hana and Maxwell appeared over the tree line. “Drake!” Riley exclaimed.

“Why do you look so happy to see me?” He looked, wary, and soon enough the reality came falling into him. “Oh, no. God, no.”

“Oh, God, yes.” She smirked. “Happy birthday!”

“Liam, you told her?!” He bites.

“My deepest apologies, Drake.” Liam said, not looking that regretful. “I forgot it was such a guarded secret.”

Drake sighed. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter, because this is the last we’re ever going to speak of it ever again.”

“You don’t want to do something fun on your birthday?” Hana asks. “Even I was allowed petit fours and an hour playing with my father’s cat each year.”

“Man, Drake, even Hana feels bad for you.” Maxwell pointed out, borderline ironic.

The tall man scowled. “I don’t need fun to enjoy myself. Besides, what could you jokers possibly want to do that would be fun for me?”

Riley narrowed her eyes at him. “What happened to you, Drake? Were you raised by wolves?”

“Are all Americans as fussy as Drake is about birthdays?” Maxwell asked.

She snorted. “Drake’s an American?”

“Half. On my mother’s side.” He said, dismissively.

She picked up her cellphone. “The internet says there’s a Western American bar in Tirkan. How about that, Drake? Whiskey, mechanical bull riding, some good ol’ American fun.”

“I guess it doesn’t sound horrible… but I can’t ask you guys to sneak out for that.” He responded.

“Nonsense. I’d love that.” Liam assured him, smiling.

“I’d like to understand more about Riley’s American culture.” Hana weighed.

“And I’ll take any excuse to drink and dance the night away!” Maxwell chirped.

Drake faced Riley, pointedly. “Do you really want to do this, Riley?”

“Drake, I’d escape Alcatraz if it meant for you to swallow your joker comment. We’re going out, and you’ll have the time of your life.” Her eyes glinted in determination.

Palace of the Brigades, Avlona, Cordonia, Theophany 2011

A knock surprised the women gathered inside the bedroom.

“Go and send whomever it is away.” The oldest lady commanded a handmaid, with a twirl of a hand.

The girl obeyed and left for the door. A short discussion later, and a pair of stepping patterns approached the dresser.

“Good evening, Your Honor. Lady Charlotte.” The man greeted the two noble ladies in the room.

“Good evening, Your Majesty.” Karen curtsied appropriately, while glared at the maid, who scurried away through the door. “What do we owe the pleasure?”

“I was hoping to speak with Lady Charlotte.” He said, and then added: “Privately.”

The woman measured him, considering his request. Finally, she commanded the hairdresser and the make-up artist to leave. “You have ten minutes. We must prepare for tonight.” And with that, she left through the same door the servants did.

“Hey, Leo.” The girl greeted, for the first time since he’s arrived. “How may I be of service?”

He smirked. “If you could lend me your hand in marriage, I’d be most obliged.”

She turned to him and raised from the dresser. “Leo, before I answer it, tell me. Do you love me?”

“Why do you ask?” He looks pointedly at her.

“I find that I should know that before I marry someone, Leo.” She said. “Especially if marrying that someone brings me a big responsibility.”

“Don’t we have an aristocratic duty,” He spat the words. “To our families? To our countries? What is the use of loving someone or not?”

“Because we have a choice, Leo!” She shouted. “I have a choice not to be a Queen, and you have a say on who’s going to be. I don’t love you, and if you don’t love me, I won’t be making any sacrifices for you.”

He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “No. I don’t love you.”

She sat next to him and passed an arm through his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Leo.”

“Regina wants me to marry Madeleine.” He confessed.

“I find it a good choice.” Charlotte said.

He looked at her, confused. “You hate Madeleine.”

“That I do.” She said, emphatic. “She’s a downright bitch. She should really get laid. But she loves you more than life itself. And she’s a seasoned politician. Between her and any other girl in Court, myself included, I’d chose her. Don’t drag anyone else to your misery, Leo.”

Without another word, he raised from the bed and left the room, marching in anger.

Tirkan, Cordonia, Fall 2015

“The party has arrived!” Maxwell announced from the door of the dive bar Riley chose for Drake’s birthday party.

Hana looked around. “Where?”

Drake scoffed. “It’s us, Hana. He means us.”

“Exactly, my good man. As in, we’re the life of the party.” Maxwell threw an arm around Drake, who glared profusely.

“We are?” Hana asks, confused.

“Well, some of us.” Maxwell looks accusingly to Drake.

The man just rolled his eyes and turned to Riley. “I can’t believe you actually talked me into this.”

“Well, I did, now shut up, stop complaining and let’s get some alcohol into your system.” She responded, pulling him over to the bar.

“I’ll buy the first round!” Liam, under a hat and sunglasses, offered, excitedly.

“Oh, no, no-one will be paying a dime. Any bartender with a heart would give him a free drink to start the night off.” She declared, boldly.

Drake, once again, rolled his eyes and used a stupid voice. “Free drinks are something that happens when you’re a woman, Riley. Even on my twenty-first birthday I didn’t get so much as a free drop from anyone.”

“Oh, no? Well, lemme see what I can do. Come on, Drake.” She pulled him once more. “Hey, bartender! My friend here is celebrating his birthday today. Can we get a drink on the house?”

The man measures her, mulls it over, and finally nods.

“It’s like everything I know is wrong.” Drake said, surprised.

Riley smiled smugly. “Told ya.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “Of course he’ll do it for you. No-one says no to a hot girl.”

She considered pointing out the bartender was doing it for him, ergo he should think Drake was hot, but there was a better way to beat the sour man into submission.

“So, you think I’m hot?” She smiled, defiant.

“I just meant…” He stuttered. “From his perspective… Anyway, stop holdin’ up the line. You’ve gotta tell the man what drink you’re ordering.”

She turned to the bartender. “We’ll have two piña coladas, please.”

Drake gaped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Not only I would but I did dare. Call it retribution.” She smiled, wickedly.

“Way to ruin a perfectly good free drink on some monstrosity like this.” He lamented.

“You were just saying how the only way we got these was because of me, which makes them mine. Now drink the piña colada or get out of the way.” She commanded.

He grumbled and took the glass to his lips. A silence followed.

“Nothing bad to say, hon?” Riley teased.

“For an overly-sugared, completely silly, ridiculous excuse for a drink,” He had bad things to say, plenty of them. “This isn’t half bad.”

She smiled. “You like girlish drinks. How cute.”

Before he could respond, however, Hana came running after them. “There you are!”

“Prince Liam just paid the guy operating the mechanical bull.” Maxwell said, arriving just next to Hana. “He wants Drake to ride!”

“Me?” Drake said. “No way!”

“I figured you wouldn’t want to, but Liam says you’re some kind of expert.” Maxwell said.

Riley turned to Drake. “Is that true?”

“There’s only one way you’d get to find out, and I’m not drunk enough to make a fool of myself yet.” He gruffly said.

“Oh, no, sweetheart, you’re not escaping from that tonight!” She bellowed. “Come on, cowboy, you have a mechanical bull to ride tonight.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. So you keep telling me.”

“Drake! Drake! Drake!” Maxwell chanted, and was soon enough joined by the two girls. “Drake! Drake! Drake! Drake!”

“Okay!” He caved. “I’ll do it. Just… quiet down, you’re embarrassing me.”

“That’s kind of the whole point.” The younger man clarified, with Riley nodding.

Glaring at them, Drake slings a leg over the mechanical bull. “How do you start this thing?” He asked.

The operator, looking as blasé as it gets, just pressed a button and the bull begins to buck and twist. Drake easily swivels his hips and throws his hand back, keeping perfect balance.

“Not even a challenge.” He smugly commented. Not deterred, the operator makes the bull buck faster. “Okay, that’s a little harder…” The man said, going out of breath.

“Come on, birthday boy!” Riley screamed at him. “You can last longer than that!”

Shooting her a dirty look, Drake grips the bull tighter, even as it wildly bucks and pivots.

“Is that all you’ve got, bull?” He shouted, excitedly.

Just as he says that, however, the machine did a sudden turn which launched him sideways, making him tumble against Riley, standing on the sideways. The two of them end up tangled on the floor.

“Whoa! Sorry, Flowers.” He apologized and helped her stand.

“No trouble, I shouldn’t be standing here.” She dismissed.

As the band begins to play a new song Maxwell’s eyes light up. “We should hit the dance floor!” He said, excitedly.

Hana was a little insecure. “I don’t think you can waltz to this.”

It was playing Shania Twain, which Riley found to be most opportune, even if she hadn’t had a hand on it.

“Yeah, exactly the point.” Maxwell countered Hana. “I mean really dance. Like, the fun kind of dancing.”

“The fun kind?” The concept seemed foreign to her. “What would that entail?”

“I could tell you, but it’s going to be a lot more fun to show you.” He took her by the hand and headed to the dance floor, with the other three following closely behind.

Riley thought about pairing up with Liam, but Drake started scowling from the sidelines. The Prince, even in that excuse for a disguise of his, could find himself a pair easily enough, while Drake would bitch.

She, then, danced over to Drake. “I’m gonna getcha’ good!” She propositioned, using the song’s verse.

“I’m not really the kind of guy who dances.” He said, in a monotone.

“And I’m not the kind of girl who begs, so let’s get these hips moving.” She placed her hands in his waist, forcing it to go sideways, back and forward.

He took her hands off of him, scowling. “According to Maxwell, there’s a lot more to it than that.”

Checking the young man out, Riley noticed Maxwell was doing a very over performance of breakdance.

“That’s Maxwell for you.” Riley said, somewhat confused about the correlation between his movements and the tune.

Drake faced Riley. “I’m never going to be like Maxwell.”

As she observes, Maxwell shimmies over to a group of girls. “Ladies!”

Riley shook her head, disapprovingly. “Thank God for that. The world can only handle one Maxwell.”

Drake scoffed, approvingly.

“And, besides, I chose you to dance with me.” She took his arm.

“Why?” He asked. “Didn’t want to try to keep up with his acrobatics?”

“Drake, please. If me and him danced, the one biting the dust would be Maxwell.” She proclaimed, smugly. “I’m feeling more of a Drake vibe today, I guess.”

“Come on, Flowers.” He said, ironically. “It’s more like a lack of a vibe than anything else.”

“And so he admits!” She said, exasperated.

“Only on the dance floor, my one weakness.” He said.

She smiled faux-sweetly. “I thought I was your one weakness.”

He blushed. “I…”

“I mean, I’m the only one who doesn’t let you get away with anything, and I got you out here tonight, didn’t I?” She twirled her hair.

He grumbled. “As far as weaknesses go, you’re not the worse, Flowers.”

“Thanks, Drake.” And with that, she left him alone.

At the same time, Maxwell let go of Hana, who twirled dizzy to where Riley was standing. “Oh, hello, Riley.” The Asian placed her hands to her head, to keep her world from moving any further.

The black-haired took her hand. “Come on, Hana, just move to the music.”

“But I don’t know the steps!” The other argued.

“There are no steps!” Riley explained, smiling. “Just make some up and let the music guide you.”

“I don’t think I can do that.” She grumbled.

Riley pulled her over to the dancing area. “Start by relaxing. This is just for fun.”

“Right. Fun. I can have that.” She pepped herself up.

Placing a hand on her waist, Riley leads Hana through the motions, and the girl she shimmies and spins through the dance floor.

“Yeah!” Riley encouraged. “That’s it! You’re a natural.”

“Thanks, Riley!” She wrapped her arms around the white girl.

Before she could respond, Maxwell appeared next to them. “I have to say Drake told me what you said to him. Do you really think you can keep up with me?” He said, defiantly.

“Boy, you’re going down!” She took his hand and pulled him to the center of the dance floor.

Maxwell drops to the ground and does a series of breakdancing moves, ending in a pose with his legs straight in the air. Winking at Riley, he drops down and stands back up.

“Now let’s see what you’ve got.” He offered her a hand. Taking it, she spins herself into him and jump into his arms. Surprised, he said: “You’re lucky I caught you!”

“You always catch me, don’t you?” She winked.

He smiled. “Guilty as charged.”

She twirled away to a corner, where she found Liam. “Eh... What's up, doc?” She asks, smiling.

“Not much.” He answered, subtly surly. “You and Drake seems to be having fun.”

“As far as Drake is able to even have fun, I suppose he is.” She said, smirking. “While I am having a much-coveted reprieve from courtly life.”

“I’m happy you’re having a good time.” He said, dismissive.

Her lips thinned. “Well, you’re obligated to have it, too.” She took his hand and led him to the dance floor.

He complied. “Lady Riley.” He made a courteous bow.

“Nah-ah.” She twirled her finger. “Come on, no lady this-and-that. I’m Riley and you’re Liam, and we’re off the clock.”

He smiled, despite himself. “Of course.”

Riley sways against Liam, but soon enough he begins to blush. “Liam, what could you be possibly be thinking right now?” She asks, laughing.

He coughed, to hide his embarrassment. “Just how enjoyable is to have you so close.”

“Now that’s funny.” She said, wickedly. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

Liam smiles widely as he places a hand on her waist, merrily holding her. “Even in a crowded country bar, it’s amazing how everyone else in the room seems to fade away when I look into your eyes.”

She smiles, and they twirl together over the dance floor.

A few hours later, as the night ends, the group starts to leave the bar. Hanging on the saloon, there was Drake, looking forlornly to the venue.

“Not ready for your birthday to be over yet?” Riley chirped from behind him.

“Maybe.” He said, thoughtful. He then sighed. “You know, to tell you the truth, I always dreaded my birthday when I was a kid. My parents tried hard, really hard, to give me the best birthday they could. But I always knew that no matter what they did, Prince Liam’s parents were going to top it.

“My parents got me a toy T-Rex? Liam’s parents got the entire palace staff to dress up like dinosaurs for his birthday. My parents got me a cake shaped like a car? Liam’s parents got him a cake the size of a car.”

She considered what Drake had said. It seemed to her that Liam and his parents were also, somewhat, jealous of Drake’s family’s moments. They imitated whatever Drake’s parents did the year before, they only did it grander, as in to assert their love for Liam after a year’s worth of neglect.

Riley, however, couldn’t tell him that. She, then, opted for a: “That must have been rough.”

“I mean, sure, it wasn’t easy, but I knew we were lucky to live at the palace and even be invited to Liam’s birthdays.” That part made her really sad. “So I didn’t really care about that stuff. Never saw these birthday parties as a competition.

“But they were Hell on my parents. They knew they could never come even close to what my best friend was getting, and that killed them. So around when I was nine or ten, I made a decision to stop trying. No more birthday parties, no more cakes, no more presents.

“All I wanted was to spend the day with my family doing something fun. My parents loved it. Made them feel like they could really give me something special.” He looked over at Riley, who wore googly eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m a total marshmallow. Just don’t tell anyone else.”

“What confuses me is, why did you come here today?” She asked. “I mean, didn’t you have this family tradition to uphold?”

He shrugged. “My family’s not here anymore, so I wasn’t really expecting to do anything tonight. Anyway, tonight has actually been… well, it’s really been fun. And if I’m being honest with myself, it’s felt a lot more like those special birthdays with my family than I thought it could.”

“Well, I’m glad these jokers could make you happy tonight.” She said, elbowing him.

“You won’t let that go, will you?” He said, somewhat ashamed.

“Nope.” She shook her head.

“Anyways, I’m glad you dragged me out.” He said, sincere. “We should call it a night.”

“We’re just waiting for you.” She motioned to the door. As she was leaving, however, she stopped on her tracks and turned back to hug Drake tightly. “We’re here for you, y’know?”

“Thanks.” He breathed out.

Vienna, Austria, Winter 2011

The last guests already left the Rosenberg residence, and the maids were cleaning off the glasses, plates and cutlery scattered throughout the Art-Déco apartment.

At margin of the busy work around them, Charlotte and Karen sat on the living room. The youngest nursed a glass of wine and played with the newly-planted diamond ring on her hand.

“When were you intending to tell me you tricked me?” Charlotte broke the silence.

Karen looked pointedly at her daughter. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t take me for a fool, mother!” She said, angry. “You sent me to Cordonia as a brideshowing, didn’t you?”

“It IS the purpose of the event, isn’t it? A Slavic brideshowing ritual.” Karen said, dismissively.

“God, mother, you are annoying. You know what I’m saying.” Charlotte was ruby-red. “You said I would be entering that contest as a power move, and you lied. You wanted to prove to the Torelli I was, what did you say? A proper lady, worthy of her title.”

Karen snickered. “Well, I’m an efficient woman. If the same movement can benefit me in several fronts, more the reason to act upon it.”

“Mother, you are… you are…” Charlotte tried to find the word.

“A bitch? A cunt? An evil mastermind? Yes, I am.” Karen stood up. “Now, be quiet and go to bed. Your father is asleep.”

Red Rose - Masterlist

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#red rose #the royal romance

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megape · 7 years ago

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Gifts (Blog Post)

Hi, I haven’t made a blog post in awhile regarding my growth, but that’s because I’ve been in a wishy-washy way of thinking. A lot of decisions are in my life right now, at least it feels like it, and I suppose they tend to overwhelm me. But I’ve been on new meds and I’m super stoked to see if they help out so anyway, regardless of this way of thinking, I’ve been bestowed a new healthier one! It’s like a new pair of glasses!! (Get ready for the sappiness because you guys that I tagged know I love you all to bits and if you don’t it’s about to be obvious.)

There’s a lot to point out for me in this blog post so I’m just going to ramble a bit as always.

First off, my relationship with YHWH hasn’t been the best lately. I dunno, I’ve been distant because of my depression. It got so bad a month or two ago that suicide was all I had thought about. For years I had prayed for a miracle, like They would swoop down and save me from my illness. I think I may have disregarded a lot of what They did for me on a day-to-day basis because I was looking for Them to take the Depression/Anxiety away and not just to help me through it. This put a toll on the relationship. Especially when it got to those suicidal thoughts I was having. I kept asking Them, “Am I suppose to die young? Am I being punished? Do I deserve this? Why am I hurting so much? Where are you?”

And I remember one night I was crying to Them, specifically Him because I needed a father that night, and I told Him if he couldn’t be there beside me (which was a lie I was telling myself because of course He was right there beside me) that the least He could do was make me laugh. Ironically the next day was Easter so YHWH decided to bust out some dad jokes to make me feel better. He asked me, “What’s a bunny’s favorite way to hop?” And I remember sniffling in confusion as if he was about to tell me the stupidest joke known to man. And he responded, “To the Blitzkrieg hop! Get it? Because bunnies hop and the Blitzkrieg Bop is a song?”

I got a little off tangent, but the point of saying this experience is because that was a miracle. I may not of thought about it as so at the time, but They spoke to me and I let myself hear Them.

It wasn’t until like two weeks or so ago that my therapist was telling me that maybe They had been sending miracles this entire time and I just never noticed because I was so stuck in my box of depression/anxiety. Which was true because I had more faith that my depression would consume me than that YHWH could save me!

So she started to ask me the things I had been praying for and ways that They had been providing for those prayers already. I liked the way she worded it too, she called them “gifts.” So I started thinking about things differently and picked out scenarios in my head that were probably gifts from YHWH to help subdue my depression/anxiety.

One of the biggest wishes I’ve had is to not feel lonely. Specifically I kept praying for a romantic partner, but I never stopped to realize that in order to get there I had to have friends to create that from. And regardless of that, They provided me with plenty of friends when I needed it most and I completely disregarded it because it wasn’t a boyfriend or girlfriend. To point out, I sometimes appreciate the way the wind blows and completely forget to appreciate the fact that I had my best friend come down from Canada for over a week. I miss huge things because I get so stuck in the gloom that I look for tiny things too much. They’ve blessed me with some amazing people in my life right now and I never stopped to realize that they’ve been planted in my life as gifts to help with my depression/anxiety. This entire struggle where I ask for all these different prayer requests are being answered in smaller and bigger ways than I’ve cared to notice. I’ve been so stuck in my box that I haven’t gotten the chance to thank them for actually being a part of my healing.

I kept wanting Them to rescue me from my illness, but I forgot that in order to be saved I have to acknowledge and use the tools given to me so that I can be saved! It’s like someone throwing down a rope or giving me a boat or throwing me a float while i’m stuck in water. I kept wanting them to just take me from the water and didn’t realize they were giving me SO many options to get out and I just had to use the tools given to me. Granted, this healing will take time, but that’s why They’ve provided lots of tools and opportunities.

So in essence of this realization I’m going to list some things off that have made me super happy and were probably gifts that They’ve been handing to me to help myself heal and grow.

-I made a really amazing friend at my old job and he’s been with me through thick and thin at this point. I don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s constantly reassuring me he’ll stay by my side and ilhsm. I don’t know what I’d do with you Chris.

-The friends who kept me going through school. Wow, I don’t think I would have made it without your support and goofy antics.

-Um, I went to Pride last year and that was SO much fun!!!!!!

-I have the opportunity to go to this church that’s nondenominational and they’ve been really accepting and loving. I also might try a universalist church because I feel like I want to go and create a community in order to help push me forward in healing.

-I made a super fucking awesome friend through this cute lil dating app and he’s been like the light of my life lately. Honestly I’ve done so many fun things with him these past couple months and he’s opened my life up to Dungeons and Dragons so that’s pretty radical!!! You may not know it, but you’ve been a really big blessing to my life. I’m glad you’re here on this planet at the same time as me. Sorry about the sappiness, but it’s true. :p

-I have this sweet lil bb of a friend that always checks in on me and sends me cute and funny things despite the fact that I’ve been a distant friend to her. ilysm Snikkers <3

-There’s yet another friend who has been there since practically my childhood who I’ve connected with progressively more as I’ve grown up. She’s amazing and funny and we laugh so much when we’re together. Whether it was webkinz and One Direction or to laughing about boys and sexuality you have been the best, Faith.

-My therapist. <3

-I have a really big imagination and it helps being able to create characters, I guess sort of like imaginary friends, that I can go through it with. Also, my imagination helps me have more faith that YHWH is beside me because I can imagine what it would be like and know that it’s happening. Even though I can’t “see” YHWH holding my hand or dancing in the car with me... I can imagine it and know that that’s exactly what’s going on.. even if my (earthly(?)) eyes can’t witness it yet.

-I have the raddest and most amazing internet friend in the entire universe. She’s constantly there through thick and thin and wants to help even though I push her away sometimes. She’s been a definite miracle from God because I prayed for her a long time ago and she’s stayed in my life for MANY years now! wow, claps to you my best friend and soul sister

-My parents are the bomb. they’re funny and constantly asking how I’m doing and wanting to help in any way they can. They ask me all the time what they can do if I’m feeling sad and help me when I’m stressed. They’ve come along for a tough journey and I’m glad YHWH gave me parents that handle my issues with love. Though it may be hard at times and we may not see eye-to-eye they have always been there to learn and grow beside me.

-And lastly, all of these people and experiences (plus so many more I didn’t list, but will list below) have fulfilled my love languages in ways I never noticed until now. Like, YHWH has provided me with some pretty wicked people and I never really stopped to say thank you to anyone.

So thank you:

To my friends @youcant-takemysky @imagine-starco @el-ahrairahthefakeghost @hamilzies @pontmarius and the others who don’t have tumblrs or I didn’t mention here. Here’s to the fun memories and quality time, conversations, words of encouragement, acts of service, physical affection, and gifts along the way. To me you’ve been gifts I couldn’t be more thankful for!

Sorry if this is too sappy for you; I just want everyone to know I love them unconditionally. If you know me, are getting to know me, or are a complete stranger: our interactions together make life worth living. If we can all give love and learn to receive it we can make this world a better place. :) ~

#spiritual #blog post #healing #depression #anxiety #YHWH #god #friendship #relationships #love #agape

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master-sass-blast · 7 years ago

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Strong as Stone, Part Two.

Wow! I have to say, I was really surprised by the response to my first Okoye x M’Baku fic thingy ( https://master-sass-blast.tumblr.com/post/171948341221/strong-as-stone ) (you’ll probably have to paste into the search bar, since Tumblr seems to be eating the link). I’ve also caught the ‘make it a long-ass story’ bug, so here’s part two of who knows how the fuck many.

I’m also thinking of making an AO3 account so I can upload everything to one unified spot, so let me know if that’s something y’all would like.

So, without further ado, onto the preamble:

Warnings: Moderate language, the joys of politics, and rare-pair frustration (all aboard the frustration boat).

Rating: Meh, probably PG-13 again. I do enjoy the occasional swear word.

Pairings (yes, plural this time!): Okoye x M’Baku and background T’Challa x Nakia.

@the-last-hair-bender. You know why I’m tagging you.

Breathe in, then out. Be like the wind. Flow around whatever obstacles come your way, carry whatever you need, and, when you don’t need it anymore, let it fall away from you and move on, unburdened.

Breathe in, then out. Let everything flow over you, like the stone at the bottom of a stream. Be refined by your struggles, but don’t let them break you.

Breathe in-

Okoye gritted her teeth as she tried to reach a mindset of relaxation, but her usual state of calm awareness was alluding her tonight. She’d tried meditative yoga, rhythmic breathing, and practicing martial forms, but nothing seemed to shake the edge of irritation that had been creeping up her spine all day. Out of options --and patience--she’d retreated to the palace gardens once more.

She sat under the tree she had sat under with M’Baku only a few nights earlier in a meditative position, mentally running over the various platitudes and proverbs she’d learned during her years as a Dora Milaje.

Okoye ground her teeth together as the irritation roiled underneath her skin. Platitudes and proverbs only go so far. If she had hair, she would’ve torn it out by now.

The day began as it normally would. Okoye woke with the sun, trained with Ayo in the courtyard for half an hour, then began morning training with the other members of the Dora Milaje. However, halfway through the session, she was interrupted by a messenger from the King: an emergency council session was being called, and she was needed immediately.

The last time a council session had been called so early in the morning, T’Chaka had died.

Okoye had freshened herself up as fast as she could, yanked on her dress armor, and practically sprinted to the throne room, only to stumble into a world of frustration.

The night before, the United Nations Security Council had issued a statement declaring that, due to its advanced technology, Wakanda could prove a threat to the rest of the world, and that the King needed to permit an inspection committee to come visit Wakanda to ensure the ‘good intentions’ of the Wakandan leaders, lest tensions and suspicions rise too high.

Okoye clenched her hands into fists and let out an irritated growl. Honestly, where did those colonizers get off? Wakanda hadn’t made any moves to claim other independent nations, hadn’t leveled any threats against any the outside world, and had just launched a massive outreach program to try and aid communities in need. The King himself had visited every new Wakandan outreach facility to ensure that everything was up to proper standard, and had listened to countless experts and social workers to make sure that Wakanda’s efforts to help the rest of the world were properly tailored to each respective community.

Granted, Okoye was ninety percent certain that some of T’Challa’s over the top thoroughness was to woo Nakia, if the red and purple hickeys peeking over the edge of his collar were anything to go by, but still!

She’d had to sit through three hours of the council members raging, debating, and --at times--insulting each other, before T’Challa had finally called the meeting to a close when the Mining Tribe leader had called the Merchant Tribe’s leader’s son an ‘uneducated pile of rhino shit.’

Okoye closed her eyes and leaned back against the tree she was sitting under. He had to call it off when it was finally getting good, too, and not an hour earlier, when they were just repeating the same three arguments.

The one fortunate part of that ill-fated meeting was that M’Baku had been there. Okoye had traded sly, faintly amused looks with the Jabari chief during the course of the debacle whenever one of the leaders said something particularly ridiculous. Despite the differences between the united tribes and the Jabari, Okoye was pretty sure that the hulking man held the same opinion about politics that she did:

Using a spear made everything move much faster.

She’d hoped to talk to him briefly after the meeting adjourned, to thank him for his kindness towards her a few nights earlier, only for T’Challa --and, by proxy and duty, her--to be whisked away because of another burgeoning disaster:

Donald Trump.

Okoye was perfectly willing to admit that her taste in politics --and, by proxy, political leaders--wasn’t a varied one; save for the King and his late father, she really didn’t have patience for any of them.

Okoye let out an irritated huff. Squabblers, the lot of them. Give me my spear and ten minutes, and I could accomplish as much as they could in two hours.

At any rate, the man that Shuri kept referring to as “the Annoying Orange,” had issued an egotistical statement during a press conference about Wakanda that, once one moved past all the insinuations about ability to woo a woman and dick size, boiled down to:

Wakanda’s refusal to share vibranium made them selfish, and thus potential enemies of the Western world.

Okoye remembered seeing red as the stupid man kept droning on and on about the “great dangers of Wakanda.”

At that moment, T’Challa had dropped his head into his hands and let out a sigh that sounded more defeated than the sobs of a grieving widow.

He’s talking out his ass! Okoye thought irately. He doesn’t know the first thing about us!

Unbidden, W’Kabi’s voice spoke in her mind.

Enough, my love. You are with me, now. Leave it all behind.

Okoye clenched her jaw hard enough that it should’ve cracked her teeth.

No. Not now. She was not going to think about W’Kabi. He didn’t deserve the effort. Okoye moved back into her meditation stance. Be calm, like the lake in the early morning. Let yourself flow, and deposit your burdens on the shore with the tides of your emotions. Breathe in, then--

“I take it this tree is a favorite of yours?”

Her spear was in her hands and ready, and she was on her feet, pointing the tip of her --Bast dammit.

M’Baku grinned down at her. “I would think that you’d recognize the sound of my voice by now.”

Okoye narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t bother to hide the smile playing on her lips. “I might if you spoke more in the council meetings.” She retracted her spear. “What brings you into the gardens so late?”

“Enjoying the beauty of nature, hoping to run into you.” He motioned to the tree. “So, is this one a favorite of yours?”

Okoye blinked slowly. “It... it is a tree. I have no feelings towards it.”

“Ah, but the last time I found you here, you were crying. Tonight, I find you here in a rage strong enough to scare a rabid lion. So, clearly, you have a connection to this spot or you wouldn’t be able to come here to express yourself.”

Okoye looked up at the tree and its wide canopy. “I suppose I never thought of it that way.”

“I take it you had a long day?”

Okoye dropped back onto the bench with a weary sigh. “That would be one way of putting it. You saw the council meeting this morning.”

M’Baku grimaced as he sat down next to her. “That I did. It reminded me of why the Jabari are isolationists.”

“I keep telling the King to give me ten minutes and a spear.”

M’Baku chuckled. “And how does he react when you tell him that?”

“He laughs, then tells me to play nice.”

“And what happens when the legendary General Okoye stops playing nice?”

Okoye smiled at him wryly. “Files are redacted and witnesses go missing.”

M’Baku laughed, loud and hearty. “Remind me to never find myself on your bad side.”

Okoye managed to smile, but found herself groaning with exhaustion again. “Would you believe me if I told you that the day got worse from there?”

“That’s not possible.”

“Oh, but it is,” Okoye said with grimace. “So, in addition to the statement given by the UN Security Council, the United States President also decided to launch a statement of his own.”

“How bad was it?”

“Before or after the innuendos and talk about seducing women?”

M’Baku groaned, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hanuman help us, what did he say?”

“He claimed that, given the actions of Killmonger, Wakanda likely had terrorist idealizations against the rest of the world, claimed that the outreach centers are secretly installations to brainwash the citizens of the ‘free world,’ and compared the King and the tribal leaders to the likes of North Korea, China, and the Islamic State.” At M’Baku’s blank stare, she said, “You don’t know what those last three mean, do you?” When M’Baku shook his head, she did her best to give him the basic idea of the atrocities committed by the other entities that Wakanda had been compared to.

M’Baku let out a savage growl. “This! This is why the Jabari are isolationists! This is why Wakanda should’ve never revealed itself! We try to extend a gracious hand to the world, only for it to be spat upon!”

Okoye crossed her arms over her chest. “It probably would’ve happened anyway. This latest president is a real ass. Besides, whether you agree with the King or not, you can’t deny that Wakanda couldn’t have hidden in the shadows forever.”

“No, but this was not the right time to reveal ourselves!”

“We’re talking about colonizers. There’s never going to be a ‘right time.’“

M’Baku slumped against the tree and let out a heavy sigh. “Fair enough.”

Okoye leaned forward and braced her arms against her knees. “You know what the worst of it is? The King looked so defeated by the end of the ‘speech.’ He looked so broken down at the words of a mindless idiot!”

M’Baku raised an eyebrow. “You clearly think highly of our King.”

“I have watched that man push himself to the brink to make sure this project goes well. He’s invested into each site, made sure that he’s targeting areas that really need our efforts, consulted with hundreds of experts to make sure that each center targets the specific needs of each community, he’s visited each center upon its opening, and for what? No one talks about the good that Wakanda’s doing, no one acknowledges the King’s efforts, it’s just ‘vibranium this’ and ‘vibranium that!’“ Okoye smacked her fist into her palm. “We are more than just vibranium!”

M’Baku placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You're frustrated.”

Okoye drew in a ragged breath. “I’m just... so... tired. I can’t tell you how many colonizers I’ve watched over the years belittle the royal family and making disparaging comments, just because of our perceived economic status, or our ancestry, or our skin color! And now, now that we’ve proven that we’re capable of impacting the world --now that we’ve opened up the idea that we might even be superior to the Western world--all they see us as is another pool to drain resources from, like they’re entitled to it.”

M’Baku rubbed his hand up and down her back. “They’re small-minded and prideful. Eventually, they’ll fall, and their foolishness will reveal itself.”

Okoye shook her head. “That’s the trick with colonizers. They always find a way to hang it on someone else’s shoulders.”

M’Baku moved his arm around her shoulders, and squeezed her in a gentle half-hug. “Not this time. This time, we’re watching, and there won’t be any room for them to hide.”

Okoye let out a derisive snort. “Pah. Watching is a politician’s game. Give me my spear any day of the week.”

M’Baku let out a quiet laugh. “May the Western world learn to fear the day when the indomitable General Okoye loses her patience and uses her spear.”

Okoye smirked as she let her head rest against his shoulder. “‘Indomitable?’ Have you been reading from a thesaurus lately?”

“I like to keep my conversations riveting.”

For the second time in almost as many nights, she found herself drained, yet strangely freed by talking to M’Baku. There was an odd comfort to it, in leaning against his solid, muscular form and listening to his rich, deep voice.

Riveting conversation, indeed, Okoye thought as his thumb traced small circles on her shoulder. She sighed as the warm night breeze swirled around them. “I need to go back to bed,” she said, despite the immediate inner protest she felt. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“I’m still not in a hurry.”

“Well, I still need sleep so that when the fateful day comes, I’m rested enough to use my spear.”

M’Baku laughed as he stood with her. “You’ll have the world knocked into order in no time.”

Okoye smiled up at him. “Are you including the Jabari in that statement, or not?”

“Why, do you think we would slow you down?”

Okoye snorted, and rolled her eyes. “Hardly. I just want to make sure I have the most efficient path of action possible, and that means knowing what I’m up against.”

M’Baku grinned widely at her. “You are a force to be reckoned with, General Okoye. I pity the next opponent that underestimates you.”

“I never was able to thank you,” Okoye blurted out before he could depart from her. “For your kindness the other night, when I...” Her throat tightened as the guilt and pain surged forward, and she did her best to tamp it down. “When I was.. overwhelmed. You didn’t have to do any of what you did. Thank you.”

M’Baku stepped towards her, and took her hand in his. “Kindness creates kindness, General. I try to create kindness where I can.”

Okoye smiled, feeling shy in spite of herself and her training. “I know. Any man who could lose a fight, then turn around and save his opponent, truly knows kindness.”

M’Baku smiled --almost blindingly so, despite the night--and squeezed her hand before letting it go. “Goodnight, General Okoye.”

“Goodnight, Chief M’Baku.”

#sass writes #okoye x m'baku #black panther fanfiction #sorry not sorry #general okoye #m'baku #my apologies for mentioning trump #i promise it was necessary #my humble contribution to the fandom #wakanda forever

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