#It was both humbling and it royally screwed me up. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dragonwritersblog · 4 months

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Royally Screwed!

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Hey guys! Just in case, I might not be able to update as frequently as I usually do since college is starting back up but I'll try and get a chapter up at least every two Wednesdays! I hope that's okay with you guys! Anyways, without further delay, here is chapter 3! Let me know in the replies if you catch any of the references I put in!!!

3. Soldier, Poet, King

“He’s not at his lessons! He’s not in his room! No one has seen him Kinger!” Queenie cried, clutching her robe worriedly.

“Don’t worry my dear,” Kinger pressed both his hands to his wife’s shoulders, “He couldn’t have gone far.”

He had said that to his wife a few moments ago. Apparently Jax was playing around with the children of the other lords and ladies that had visited the castle, only to disappear after giving one of them a nasty scratch across their face. The child had wailed, saying that Jax had attacked them out of nowhere, but Kinger had a feeling that there was a bit more to the story than what was already told. He was familiar with how some nobles raised their children, and this child in particular came from a family that was full of nothing but spoiled snobs.

And so he was out in the garden, coming across a giant oak tree with a small wooden fort built atop of it. Jax’s treehouse.

Kinger took a hold of the ladder that was attached to the trunk, making his way up and through the hole in the middle of the floor. He found who he was looking for, a small six-year-old rabbit with frustrated tears staining the fur his cheeks as he clutched something in his hands.

“There you are,” Kinger spoke gently, alerting his son of his presence, his little ears shooting up as he glared at the intruder. “Everyone has been wondering where you went, your mother was worried sick.”

Jax’s ears drooped, he didn’t mean to make his mother so upset. He rubbed his cheek on his sleeve, ridding any tears that were still marked upon his face.

Kinger climbed out of the hole, making his way over to the boy and sitting down next to him. “I was told that you scratched one of the noble’s children,” Kinger said, watching as the boy paled with fear. “While I’m not pleased with an outburst like that, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and ask why you did it. I know you wouldn’t have done that unprovoked,” he patted the top of his son’s head comfortingly, Jax leaning into the touch. “What happened Jax?”

The boy turned to his father, his face growing anxious before opening his hand, revealing the head of a little chipmunk fast asleep in his purple palms. “They tried to squish it with a stick,” Jax mumbled, “They said that it was like me, a nobody trespassing onto royal grounds. It was just trying to get some food.”

Kinger felt his heart sink. Of course it was a comment about Jax being an orphan. It wasn’t the first time that he had been bullied for not being blood related to him and Queenie, even those who weren’t children had picked on him for his humble beginnings. Yes while both he and his wife were able to have children, the two had heard of Jax’s birth parents passing away from an uncontrollable illness, leaving the poor baby to fend for himself. He and Queenie immediately took him in as their own, raising and teaching him everything he needed to know about the kingdom. Unfortunately it seemed that the nobles weren’t so happy about their choice and had resorted on taking it out on the poor boy instead.

“Well then, they are forbidden to step one foot into this castle,” Kinger declared, his mind already made up on the matter, “They have no right to treat you or the poor critter so horribly.”

“But they’re right,” Jax whimpered, looking away. “I don’t belong here. No matter what I do, everybody knows that I’m not a true royal.”

“That’s not true!” Kinger interrupted, taking both of his son’s cheeks in his hands. “You might not share our blood, but you are still our son. Your mother and I love you so much, you are part of our family and that makes you a truer royal than any of the nobles could ever dream to be. You have the heart of a king Jax, never forget that.”

Jax gave his father a watery smile, the latter wiping away his tears. The little chipmunk squeaked in the child’s hands, the king and prince looking down at it. “I think he’s feeling better now,” Kinger gestured to the rodent, “It’s time for him to go.”

“But…but he’s my friend!” Jax exclaimed, clutching it tighter, “He has to stay with me.”

“He has a life and a family out there Jax,” Kinger told his son, “I know you care about him, after what he went through, but its because of that care you have for this critter that you must let him go. He might be gone, but the bond that you’ve formed will be a part of you for years to come.”

Jax let out a small whimper, stroking the back of the small creature. His father was right, the chipmunk probably had its own ‘Queenie’ and ‘Kinger’ to go back to as well. Jax stood, walking over to the window of the treehouse and opening his hands, releasing the rodent. The chipmunk looked back at Jax one last time, nuzzling his finger. The child laughed at the sensation, before waving to the chipmunk as it ran back into the gardens.

Kinger got up and went over to Jax, ruffling his son’s ears, the child laughing louder. “Glad to see you’re feeling better,” he said to child, Jax wrapped his arms around his father, squeezing him tight. The king chuckled, returning the hug with the same pressure his son was giving him. “And who knows, maybe you’ll get a pet of your own one day. Perhaps a dog or a hamster or a cat-”

“What?! Ew! No way!” Jax stuck out his tongue at that, “Cats are the worst animals in the world!”

“I don’t know,” Kinger shrugged teasingly, “When you’re older you end up with your own feline companion?”

“Never!” Jax blew a raspberry, The king guffawed, deciding to put an end to his teasing, much to his son’s mercy.

“Alright, alright. Let’s head back inside, your mother is still looking for you,” Kinger was a bout to turn and head to the exit, only for Jax to grab his father’s hand with a desperate look upon the child’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I’m not ready to go back inside yet,” Jax admitted, his ears drooping onto his back. “Can we play a game? Please! Just one game and then we’ll go inside.”

Kinger’s heart sank. Jax was so scared to go inside in case any of those horrible people were there. How could any of the nobles say such vile things? Not just about his son, but about a child! If they had a problem, then the cowards should take it up with Kinger himself instead of a boy still navigating the ways of the world. He would deal with them later – along with some colourful language he had planned for them – as for now, his son was more important.

“Alright,” Kinger nodded, “One game and then we’ll find your mother. The last thing we want is face her worried anger.”

Jax shuddered, he knew all too well what his mother was like when she was overcome with so much panic to the point of frustration. He nodded quickly as he and his father sat down.

“Now then, what would you like to play?” Kinger asked.

Jax hummed in thought, putting a finger to his chin as the ideas ran through his mind, “How about…three rounds of rock, paper, scissors!”

“That sounds like a great idea!” Kinger exclaimed happily.

The two put their fists out, slapping it against the palms of their other hand, with Kinger pulling his hand out in a scissor motion while Jax made a rock shape with his. “Yes!” the child cheered happily, “I won the first round!”

“You’re starting to get better than me,” Kinger told him, “Ready for the next round?”

“Yeah!” Jax grinned.

Kinger prepared himself “Okay, one, two-”

“What are you two doing?!” Queenie cried out, poking her head through the hole of the floor, making both father and son squeak in terror. “Do you two know how long you have been gone for?! I was worried sick!”

“Apologies darling,” Kinger chuckled nervously, “We just wanted to play a quick game.”

“I’m sorry mama,” Jax brought his knees to his chest, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Queenie sighed, shaking her head as she opened up her arms for her son, with Jax immediately running to his mother and hugging her. He had always been a ‘mama’s boy’ ever since he was a baby. “Just keep track of time, okay dear?” she whispered soothing, rubbing Jax’s back.

“Yes mama,” Jax nodded against her shoulder.

Queenie gave her a husband a glare, “That goes for you too Kinger.”

“Y-yes darling,” Kinger rubbed the back of his head at his wife’s icy gaze, “Again, my apologies.”

The queen was unable to hide a smile at her husband’s awkwardness, eventually giving in and climbing up into the treehouse as well. And so, that was how the family spent their afternoon that day, with them talking with one another about anything and everything, to Kinger and Queenie telling Jax stories of adventurers and swashbuckling pirates, to the parents even indulging with their son’s games of pretend as he recreated those stories with nothing but a stick for a sword and a wooden board as a shield.

The rest of the nobles would probably scoff at them acting like this, but they didn’t care. This was their family, even if they were royalty, and nobody could take that away from them.

Sixteen Years Later

Jax paced up and down the hall, wringing his hands to help calm his nerves. Never in his life had he been so nervous about anything. Why may you ask? Pomni was finally deemed well enough to get out of bed, and today he was going to give her a tour of the castle. He needed this to be perfect, the poor girl had already been through enough, he just wanted the day to be about her. To make sure she was happy. Her smile left a handprint on his heart, and he couldn’t get it off. He would do anything to see it again.

Motley was perched upon his shoulder, with the prince subconsciously reaching up to run his hand over the kitten’s head as he purred into Jax’s cheek. He would never admit it, but Motley was a really good comfort to him these days. Apparently, the little kitten knew exactly what to do to calm him, it was annoying how easily attached Jax had become with him.

He took a deep breath, he could do this. He walked down the hall until he stopped in front of the room Pomni was staying in, he wrung his hands one more time before gently knocking on the door three times.

“I’ll be one second!” he heard her voice ring out.

“Take your time!” Jax answered back, using the extra seconds to relax himself more. A few moments passed until the click of the doorknob made him jump. He brushed back the fur atop of his head, breathe Jax, remember, be suave.

That all went down the drain the moment Pomni stepped out. Jax was sure his heart had just skipped a beat. Pomni wore a teal-coloured dress, small flowers embroidered onto the fabric. The dress hung slightly off her shoulders with ruffles around her collarbones, the sleeves were long and ended at her wrists but had puffs at the elbows. Around her waist was a matching corset of the same colour, and the layered skirt ended by her ankles. She’s so…so… Jax’s face softened.

Pomni blushed as his eyes focused on her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Her hair might be short but she had managed to take two sections and braid it into a crown around her head. “W-why are you staring?” she stuttered slightly.

“Because you’re beautiful,” he answered honestly. He felt a twinge of pride as her face reddened more, contrasting against her dress. Easy Jax, remember, you don’t want to scare her off. When his father had informed him of Kaufmo and the circus’ story, the urge to protect the jester only grew stronger. The last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm her.

“Thank you,” she smiled, “I don’t think I’ve worn anything this nice in my life.”

“Trust me, you look radiant in that dress,” Jax told her.

Pomni had to physically fight back the blush she felt rising to her cheeks. If someone were to tell her a few months ago that she would be flustered at the compliments Prince Jax of Laphria would give her, she would have laughed in their face, repulsed by the notion that the reckless prince would give her any sort of attention. But now, after he saved her life and seeing this new side of him, it made her all the more curious to see what else she could find out about him. Dare she say it, she was excited to have his company for today.

“So, tell me, what’s up first for our tour?” she asked, going over to him and picking up Motley from his shoulders and cradling him in her arms.

Jax smirked, only holding out his hand, “You’ll just have to wait and see little lady.”

Pomni raised a brow, her lips matching his expression as she took his hand, “Then hurry up and show me.”

He let out a laugh, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he started taking her down the hall. Maybe it was the excitement of the whole thing, but their feet started to quicken, and soon they were jogging and jogging turned to running, poor Motley’s eyes going wide at the sudden increase of speed. They couldn’t stop laughing, not knowing why. In fact, now that they thought about it, this was possibly the first time each of them laughed truly and freely – with no malice or fear attached. It was…nice.

Soon, Jax was leading her into the gardens, past the bushes filled with berries and the colourful shrubbery of flowers. Their steps slowed as they halted near a large oak tree, Pomni looked up to see a wooden house, shaded among the emerald leaves atop of it. Jax let go of her hand, taking a hold of the ladder against the trunk as he began to climb up. Pomni placed Motley on her shoulders, taking the initiative to follow him.

Once Jax made it into the building, he sat next to the hole in the floor and helped pull Pomni up once she neared the top. Pomni sat next to him, letting her eyes roam the place, the subtle breeze of the wind brushing her cheeks as the sun shone upon her. “Welcome to my humble abode,” Jax grinned, “AKA, my childhood treehouse.”

Pomni marvelled at her surroundings, letting Motley down so he could explore the area as well, “This is adorable!”

“Yeah,” Jax suddenly became anxious, rubbing the back of his neck. “I knew that when I gave you all those gems and coins it made you a little uncomfortable, so I wanted to start with something small with our tour so you wouldn’t get overwhelmed.”

Pomni’s mouth gaped a bit. He could have taken her to the most grand, lavish places in the whole palace, yet he chose the most earnest part of his childhood to show her to make sure she was comfortable. She didn’t know whether to awe at the innocence of the act, or gratitude that he was putting her first. Either way, she never felt happier towards the prince than she did now. “Thank you Jax,” she replied honestly. She secretly ate up the way that she managed to make him blush this time.

“Y-yes, well,” he stuttered, “I do happen to be pretty smart.”

“On certain occasions,” she snickered.

“Hey!” he gawked at her, though the smile on his face proved that he was anything but mad. He shook his head fondly, a warmth spread through him at the fact that she didn’t feel anything negative to him while speaking with him. He was getting to know her without his reputation getting in the way of that. “I always loved coming up here as a kid. It was a safe space for me when I wanted to get away from everybody.”

Pomni tilted her head, inching closer to him. Jax was really hoping she wouldn’t see his tail wagging at the close proximity. “Safe space?” she asked, though after hearing that awful group of low lives from the last show, she had a faint idea of what he was talking about.

“Yeah,” he sighed, his ears dropping slightly. “Not everyone was happy about the fact that my parents decided to adopt me when they were able to have children. I was born in a poorer part of the kingdom, so everyone kinda knew what my rank was before I was royalty. There was just so many people who literally hated me for even breathing, it wasn’t like I asked to be born into poverty or for my parents to adopt me. So whenever I needed a break from it all, I would come up here with my parents. We’d always come up with new games in here and turn the treehouse into whatever adventure we chose. Whether it be a pirate ship and I was the captain, or my own castle where I was helping save the princess, it was the best memories I had ever made.”

“That sounds remarkable,” Pomni said, unable to tear her gaze away from the prince’s face. He looked so…happy. Not the cruel smirks that she had come to expect, but genuine happiness that came from reflecting on those memories.

“It really was,” he agreed, his heart fluttering as flashes of him as a boy going to save his mother from his ‘castle’ treehouse with his father as a dragon. That little boy had changed so much, and he would admit it, it wasn’t for the better. “When I started to get older, the comments just started to get worse. My parents started to ban people from the castle who didn’t relent, but they knew that they held importance since most of them owned some of the lands in the kingdom, so they had to be invited to events sometimes to help discuss shit that’s happening. No matter what I did, I was never good enough. It didn’t matter how much I smiled or bowed or trained myself to prove that I wanna gonna be the best heir for this kingdom, as long as I didn’t share royal blood, they already made up their minds about me. So, I decided to become what they wanted me to be. A reckless troublemaker who liked to prank others and throw the most destructive parties. For a while, I started to like it, I liked that for once I was the once who held the cards. But I knew that whoever I invited just used me to get into these parties, to indulge in luxury while talking behind my back. And seeing how disappointed my parents were…all I did was ruin things for everyone.”

He stopped, looking up at Pomni to see tears running down her cheeks as Motley tried to purr to comfort her. “I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief, “I shouldn’t have gone as long as I did, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, no, its not your fault,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes, “It was never your fault. You know that right?” She wasn’t talking about the crying, she was talking about his childhood. Jax gave her a half-hearted shrug. “I’m serious. I’ve had my fair share of people in my life who would rather project their insecurities onto those who are vulnerable than decide to be a decent human being. No, you shouldn’t have done the things you do now that you’re grown, but don’t blame your child self simply for existing.”

Jax didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or do both. For years he kept everything in, too afraid to touch the fear and guilt that crept up his spine every day. But the way Pomni spoke about it, with such ease and clarity. It was almost like she had walked similarly in his steps before. He was about to ask her how she knew all this when her hand reached forward to his face. He held his breath, fighting the urge to hammer his foot against the wooden floor with excitement. Her fingers brushed the fur on his cheeks, when she pulled back his heartbeat slowed when he realised the tips of her fingers were wet. Had he really been crying? “Wow,” he wiped any leftover wetness away, “Sorry, kinda pathetic.”

“No,” Pomni shook her head softly, a smile gracing her features, “No it’s not.” This girl. She never ceased to amaze him. “So, tell me. What other games did you and your parents get up to in here?”

Jax laughed wetly before going onto to tell her how he and his father would hide up here from his mother whenever they would steal cookies from the kitchen. Pomni chortled at the image of a small rabbit and the king hiding up in this very treehouse from the disgruntled queen while huddling with a jar of cookies.

It wasn’t until it was near noon that the two realised they had been outside for so long, just talking and enjoying one another’s company. They went inside eventually when Motley started meowing his head off for some food. Jax was confident in saying that he had more fun with Pomni in those couple of hours than all of his parties he had ever thrown. Truly, that girl had bewitched him.

“This is incredible!” Pomni beamed.

The next day, Jax had decided to take Pomni to visit the library in the castle. She had seemed particularly excited about that, he remembered that it was rare for her to see a proper library in her lifetime, and he hoped to change that.

“Just imagine! So many genres from all over the world in one place!” she gasped as she ran her hands along the spines of the books, Motley upon her shoulders once again. The kitten had become quite fond of Pomni during the jester’s stay at the castle. “Can you believe how amazing that is?!”

Jax chuckled as he kept up with her, “I guess I’ve never seen it that way”. But it made sense, his family could afford every single book known to man. Whether it was the most groundbreaking adventure novel in existence, or a simple cookbook, there was without a doubt that the royal library had something for everyone. Even the largest book shop in all the lands wouldn’t be able to do that.

“It makes me want to cry with joy,” she admitted, picking up a paperback and examining it. “I know it seems silly, but you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Oh?” Jax’s face became serious, moving towards her. What did this girl go through to make her say that? “Why is that?”

Pomni shifted in her place, worry spreading across her features.

“Please, don’t tell me if it makes you uncomfortable,” Jax reassured her, “You have no obligation to tell me.”

“No, it’s alright,” she smiled slightly. “I’ve never been able to see many libraries in my lifetime, but I will always remember the first time Kaufmo took me to see one. We were allowed to roam one of the villages we were performing in, so he let me see my first ever library. We spent all day in there reading anything we could find. I remember him telling me the importance of books. Each one of them holds a lesson and history for anyone who needs to learn it. No matter how small it is, one book can hold great meaning for a person. It’s why we must cherish them and the morals that they hold.”

She hugged the book tighter in her hold, Motley rubbing his head against her neck as he purred. Pomni giggled and placed a little kiss on the tip of his nose.

Jax inhaled deeply. So many overwhelming feelings were coming afloat after Pomni’s words, he stepped away for a moment to collect himself.

Pomni’s face fell, fearing that she crossed the line, “Your highness, I didn’t mean to offend you-”

“You didn’t!” Jax whipped round quickly, making sure that Pomni knew she wasn’t at fault. “Its just…never in all my lessons and teachings did I feel like I have learned more than what you have told me at this moment. You hold so much passion and joy within your knowledge than any of my tutors have given me. You have more conviction in one memory that I have had within my entire being. You’re remarkable Pomni, and I hope that I can see the world through your eyes.”

Pomni bit her lip as his words repeated through her head like a mantra. No one had ever said something so earnest as he had, and she had least expected it to come from the ‘reckless Prince Jax’ of Laphria. “Well, it isn’t so hard,” Pomni teased, “After all, you wouldn’t have saved my life if you didn’t.”

Did he?

Did someone like him, who spent most of his life building up this reputation to be arrogant and self-centred, deserve a second chance to see the world as she did? Then again, he didn’t know what she went through, but he could see that behind her smile, sass and glam that there was a girl who was deeply hurting yet still chose kindness every single time. He would let her tell him, of course, but one way another he knew he had to find out. “I appreciate your faith in me little lady,” he smirked, deciding to press an arm against the bookshelf as he peered down at her. Was it a risk? Yes. But the way her breath hitched and eyes widened made it oh so incredibly worth it. “You sure it’s not mistake?”

Pomni gulped, ridding any type of flustering she felt flutter in her heart as she pushed him back with a smirk, “I happen to be very good at reading people. So no, I don’t think it’s a mistake.”

He nearly choked on his own spit at the sudden turn in dynamic. With a hum, she walked away, feeling his eyes on her as she did so while opening the book in her hands.

Jax gave his cheeks a tap, snapping himself out of it while a lovesick grin stretched on his lips as he chased after her. This girl had his heart in the palm of her hand and she didn’t even realise it. In all honesty, as long as Pomni had it, Jax didn’t want it back.

Pomni stretched her arms above her head after she finished warming herself up, wearing a simple cotton shirt with spaghetti straps and dark pink leotard shorts. A few guards had escorted her trapeze equipment as per her request, she wanted to continue practising even if there weren’t any upcoming shows. It gave her peace of mind after the chaos of her attempted kidnapping. Plus, she liked doing her tricks. Apart from her music, she was proud of this being one of her talents.

Her aerial silks, trapeze bars and hoops had been moved into a spare ballroom within the castle along with everyone else’s equipment. She had waited until the rest of the circus cast had finished with their own rehearsals, feeling more at ease when she practised alone.

She wrapped a practise rope around her wrist, preparing to start when she heard a voice echoing around the room.

“Is this what you do on a daily basis?” Jax asked, curiosity and amazement lacing his tone.

Pomni smiled, she was actually really happy whenever he found the time to visit her. Sometimes his duties caught up to him, which left days that they were unable to spend time together. Wait, did she really admit that she liked spending time with Jax? “Not on a daily basis,” she said, turning to face him as he walked over to meet her, “Just whenever I feel the need to practice.”

“Looks simple enough, bet I could do it easily,” Jax knew he was bragging, but he made sure that there wasn’t any mocking in his voice. It seemed Pomni knew that as well with the way she cheekily raised her eyebrow.

“Oh, it looks that simple huh?” she grinned.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’d be able to nail it in ten seconds.”

Pomni hummed as though she were in thought, raising her hand and curling her finger in a ‘come hither’ motion. Jax knew he struck something there as his pulse began to hammer hard throughout his veins. Nevertheless, he did as he was told. She took his hand, he nearly flushed at her sudden boldness. She was bringing him closer to her…until she pulled on the rope, ripping her hand away and sending her soaring up to the darkened roof.

Jax blinked for a second, trying to regain his bearings after the trick she just pulled that sneaky little minx!

He heard a throat clear, making him look up as he saw Pomni descending down from the ceiling, her arms gripping onto the bottom of a trapeze ring as she slowly lowered back onto the ground. “Word of advice,” she spoke as her feet touched the ground, “Don’t immediately throw yourself into the deep end if you barely know how to keep your head above water.”

Jax was unable to tear his eyes away. It was just one simple act from her and yet he was attached to her like a dog on a leash. He had fallen and fallen hard. He ran a hand over the top of his fur on his head, smoothing it back as he grinned at her, “Why don’t you show me how it’s done then little lady?”

He watched as she froze in place while he restrained himself to laugh at her adorable yet slightly angry reaction. That nickname always struck a nerve with her. Pomni’s lips twisted as though she were in thought, “Hmm, okay. If you can handle it.”

“Oh I can handle it little lady,” he chuckled, “Come on, show me what you got.”

“Okay, put your hands on my waist,” she said simply.

Jax had never been more thankful for his fur covering his cheeks, hiding the redness rising to his skin, “I-uh-um-what?!”

“I said, put your hands on my waist,” she stated as if she weren’t suggesting that he touched her with her wearing what was basically close to undergarments. “Unless you’re not able to do this?”

“Well I didn’t say that,” he told her, “I just…don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Hey,” Pomni let go of the hoop for a moment, taking both of his hands in her. “I wouldn’t be asking you this if I wasn’t okay with you putting your hands on me. If you’re not comfortable with it though then that’s absolutely fine. But don’t worry, I trust you.”

She trusts me. When was the last time someone trusted him? It sent a rush through him and gave him a determination that he never had in his life before. A determination to earn and keep that trust that had been provided for him.

“So, as long as you’re okay with it,” she continued, guiding his hands to both sides of her hips, “Put your hands on my waist.”

Jax nodded, pressing his hands firmly to her sides. Taking a hold of the metal hoop again, she swung it in a circle around the two of them before it went back behind her again. “Lift me up,” she instructed him. Without missing a beat, Jax did as he was told, lifting her onto the hoop while Pomni held on with one arm, using her spare hand to stretch out her body into a line while her legs gripped the other end of the hoop.

She brought her free arm back in, grabbing the top of the hoop and pulled herself into a sitting position. “Hold onto the bar,” she said next, with Jax firmly holding the hoop in place as her legs reached up and wrapped themselves around the top of the hoop, pulling her upside down. “Now here’s where you need to pay attention. This thing is gonna start to pull itself up once you sit down. All you gotta do is hold on and I’ll tell you what to do. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jax could only stare in awe at how her body twisted and moulded itself into whatever way Pomni wanted. It was simply miraculous to experience.

“Good,” she smiled. Jax carefully lowered himself onto the hoop next to the upside-down jester, gripping it tighter once he started to feel it rise. “Easy, just hold on until I say otherwise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Jax gave her a nervous laugh, “Should I be saying that to you?”

“Let’s just call this getting even then,” she smiled, “Now hang on there for a second.”

Before he could ask what she meant by that, she swung herself upright and pulled herself to sit on top of the hoop. He gasped when she jumped, about to go after her before she grabbed on a nearby rope. His breath hitched as he watched her swing round the ballroom, her eyes closed in a content bliss as if this whole practice brought her to a peaceful state of mind.

She swung back towards Jax again, letting go off the rope and grabbing the bottom of the hoop, pulling them back onto the ground again. Jax slid off the hoop, going closer to Pomni. “Not bad for your first try,” she mused, “Wanna go again?”

Jax wrapping one arm around her waist and using the other hand to grab the bottom of the hoop. The two shared a grin as the hoop ascended upwards, Jax holding tight to both of them to make sure that they wouldn’t fall. Pomni gulped at the strength he displayed, it certainly wasn’t anything to sneeze at. Wrapping her arm around his waist and joining his other hand on the hoop with hers this time, she started to pick up momentum, making the duo spin faster and faster.

Grinning, Jax jumped down, letting Pomni spin round the ballroom again. “Not bad for a first timer huh?!” he called out to her.

“I have to agree, you’re a little rusty but you’ve got potential,” she giggled back.

An idea popped into his head. Jax ran to the walls of the ballroom while Pomni raised a brow as he started to scale them. As she swung round to him, he jumped off and grabbed the hoop, circling his arm around her waist again. The two laughed freely, without a single care as they flew around the room.

Eventually, they had slowed to a stop, gently pressing their feet against the marbled floor as they panted from the thrill and exhilaration. “That was…wow,” Jax gasped.

“Yeah,” Pomni breathed, “Not bad for a beginner.”

Jax brushed a stray hair away from her face, Pomni watching his finger trailing her cheek as he did so. “Um, I should get back to my duties soon,” he said, “But thank you for the lesson…I had fun.”

“Y-you’re welcome,” Pomni stuttered as he drew his hand back.

They paused, a silent tension growing between them. Pomni was praying that he didn’t hear her heart thunder in her chest, not knowing that Jax was doing the same - practically begging to whatever entity was out there that she couldn’t hear his wagging tail rustling under his clothes. “Good day Pomni,” Jax bowed, before leaving the ballroom.

Pomni lifted her hand to where his was on her cheek. Perhaps it was the rush of the whole practice, but part of her wished that he kept his hand there just a little bit longer.

If there was one thing that Pomni was grateful for during her and her family’s stay in the castle, it had to be the opportunity to sleep in. While being a performer, there was always a strict schedule that she had to follow. From when she had to wake up, to the endless hours of training, to when she had to eat and eventually find the time to get a full eight hours of sleep without her busy schedule being interrupted. So it was a small blessing that she got to enjoy the longer hours tangled in the soft sheets of her temporary bed.

When she eventually got out of bed and pulled on her teal dress did she hear the commotion going on outside. She walked over to her window and pulled open the curtains, immediately beaming when she saw what was going on.

In the castle courtyard, everyone from the village was setting up stalls and games. From stands with every type of fruit and dessert, to activities such as ring tossing and painting, there seemed to be something for everybody to enjoy. With an excited squeal, she slipped on a pair of sandals and ran out of her room. She wanted to find out what was going on!

She tore down the hallway, her smile splitting across her face. She didn’t notice the figure in front of her until she collided with it. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Woah little lady! It’s okay, no harm done!” Jax’s calm voice made her sigh with relief, a sentence she never believed would come to mind.

“Jax,” she brushed herself off before realising the feline companion resting on his shoulders. “Motley!” she picked up the kitten and cradled him in her arms, rubbing her face against his.

Jax huffed I am not jealous of a kitten, I am not jealous of a kitten, I am not jealous of a kitten, I am not jealous of a-

“-So! Do you have any idea of what’s going on outside?” Pomni’s question pulled him out of his internal ramblings as she blinked up at him.

“Oh, that?” he said, “You’re gonna love this.” He gestured his head to the nearby window, encouraging her to follow him towards the glass. “Every year, after our annual harvest, we throw a festival for the village within the castle courtyard. Since it was an event created by my father, royals can attend if they want to, but all of the other nobles are banned from going. I mean, after the shit they’ve said about me, the last thing the villagers need is the upper crust sneering down at them after all their work.”

“And you? Do you go?” Pomni asked as she peered down at the setup from down below.

“Ah…I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to go down there,” Jax admitted, “Like I said, the last thing they need is for the upper crust to mess everything up. And this is coming from the guy who set off fireworks in the village.”

Pomni’s face fell slightly. While she still wasn’t pleased with that stunt he pulled, she still recognised that he was making an effort to not be that person anymore. Even is she didn’t know the catalyst for that change, it was still change. “Well, don’t mess things up then,” she stated, taking his hand, “Just come down and stick with me, I’ll make sure we have lots of fun.”

“Ya sure?” he gave her a nervous tight-lipped smile, “The village ain’t a big fan of me, for good reason.”

“Like I said, stick with me and they’ll see that you’re not so bad,” she said, “I mean, you might still be incredibly annoying but I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Wow! Thanks for that Pomni!” he drawled sarcastically, though he was unable to hide the grin he wore as she laughed at his disgruntled face.

“You’re welcome,” she chortled, Motley mewling along with her as if he was laughing at Jax in his way cat-like way. “Now come on! I don’t want to waste the day!”

She grabbed his hand, this time she was the one dragging him along, running down the hallways. Jax laughed at her excitement, feeling his own arise as well.

But he had to admit, when he went out into the sun rays beaming down on his and hearing the thrilled chatter of the villagers, he was actually glad that he agreed to come out.

There were a few stares, and a few anxious whispers from the villagers who worried that he had a trick up his sleeve. Part of him was tempted to run back inside, to hide from the wondering eyes staring at him. But Pomni’s hand on his helped him feel a bit braver, it made him want to seize the day and lower his walls a little bit. Yeah, he could do this.

“Ragatha!” Pomni squealed, lifting Motley to rest on her shoulder the moment she saw her friend. Jax watched her as she ran up to the ragdoll, hugging her ash their cheeks pressed together tightly. “Look at all this!”

“Its incredible isn’t it!” Ragatha pressed a chaste kiss to the jester’s head, she let her go once the ragdoll saw Pomni’s rabbit companion. “What is he doing here?”

“Well nice to see you too,” Jax rolled his eyes.

“Easy you two,” Pomni glared at them before turning back to Ragatha, “I wanted him to join me today, so please be nice.”

“Him? Isn’t he the same guy that made you say that ‘men are the worst thing in this realm’ to us?” Ragatha crossed her arms.

“Oh? Is that so?” Jax raised a teasing brow.

“W-well, I’m not wrong about that!” Pomni interjected, “But Jax is…not as bad as I thought. I still think men are awful though!”

“I don’t trust him,” Ragatha scowled at the prince, half tempted to pull out the hidden butcher knife she had attached to her thigh holster.

“Ragatha!” Pomni groaned, “He saved my life! And I’ve been spending time with him for the past few days to get to know him better! It’s okay!”

“I promise,” Jax spoke, turning both ladies’ attention to him. “I have nothing but good intentions. I know that it’s a little hard for you to warm up to me, but I swear that I want to keep Pomni safe as much as you do.”

That seemed to convince the ragdoll a tiny bit, judging by how her eyes softened slightly. Though they still held a coldness to them, “Okay…just remember, Moon and I are right here if you need us Pomni, so don’t hesitate to come to us if you need anything.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” Pomni assured her, whirling round to grab Jax’s hand again. “Now come on you! They’re making crepes at that stall over there and I wanna try one!”

And so, Jax was dragged away once again, leaving the ragdoll to watch them as they drifted away. Moon and Sun walked up to her, the former placing a hand on her shoulder, “Still unsure about the prince?”

“Pomni says that he’s nice,” Ragatha told her, “I just don’t know what to think.”

“I think we should trust Pomni,” Sun happily suggested, holding an ice cream in his hand. “If she can go from despising his guts to being his friend then there must be something good about him. Almost as good as this ice cream!” He took another bite, savouring the sweet chocolaty taste.

Ragatha and Moon chuckled at this antics. “Maybe you’re right,” Ragatha nodded, “Maybe he is changing.”

“At least he wants to make an effort to do so,” Moon mused, “Unlike…”

Ragatha and Sun brought the woman in for a hug, Moon didn’t need to say his name for them to know who she was referring to.

“It’s okay sis,” Sun whispered, “You didn’t know.”

“Exactly,” Ragatha agreed, “Besides, you were too good for him anyway.”

Moon let out a shaky breath as she melted into their embrace. She might not have the romance she always dreamed off, but to be honest, she found something even better.

Pomni kept dragging Jax around each stall and game she could find once they had finished their crepes. She had bought a few strawberries, cherishing each one she bit into and shared with Jax. She cheered when she won the ring toss and had even beat Jax in a few rounds. And she even reunited with the girls who gave her the flower crown and sat down for them to put flowers in her hair.

Jax watched on fondly as they weaved each one into her hair while holding onto Motley, until one of the little girls stood up and walked over to him, shyly clasping her hands together. “Um, Prince Jax?” she meekly said, “I have a few flowers for you too. You don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to! I just thought you would like some.”

She held up a few simple purple roses wound together into a crown. Pomni’s favourite flower he recalled. He looked at the little girl, he remembered how crestfallen she and her friend were when he insulted their flower crown for Pomni a while back. He was so wrapped up in his own plans with trying to woo her than he put down the hard work of literal children! Children of his kingdom. He kneeled down gently took the rose crown in his hand and inspected it, even if it was a small gesture he had to attempt to right his wrong – the first of many but it still counted. “I think it’s perfect,” he grinned, placing it on his head, “Its better than my real crown!”

The little girl beamed, “You’re welcome your highness!” She gave him a quick curtsy before running back over to her friend and Pomni. Jax laughed as he stood back up, he had to admit, the crown was pretty good.

But it was in no comparison to how Pomni looked. Tied within her braid and short hair were small daises, white carnations, specks of baby’s breath, lavender and a few small pink roses. She gave the girls a twirl, the skirt of her dress fluttering like the petals in her hair. “Thank you!” she cooed, her smile wide.

Jax’s eyes widened, her beauty striking him in his poor heart. Never before had he seen a being as beautiful as Pomni. Motley gave him a teasing mewl, he swore that the little shit was mocking him, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up fish breath.”

Pomni skipped over to him, “So, what do you think?”

“I’m dead,” he dramatically placed a hand to his chest, “You killed me with how pretty you are little lady.”

Pomni rolled her eyes at his antics, “Sure princey. Now come on! I wanna go try some cheese!”

This time, Jax was fully prepared to be dragged away again, not minding a single bit.

For the next few hours, that was how their day was spent. They made sure to try every single piece of food from the stalls, bought a few souvenirs from sellers and played every single game that was available (with Jax losing to Pomni every single time of course). One by one, each villager could see a difference within the prince, and the elders of the kingdom felt a sense of déjà vu with the way he looked at Pomni. It was similar to how a young Kinger acted when he saw Queenie for the first time.

Soon enough, the sun began to set and the stars began to rise. Tables were pulled out, hot food and drink were served, and a small space was left for anyone who wanted to dance to the band playing on stage. Pomni and Jax had finished their meals a while ago – a simple dish of beef, bread and mashed potatoes – before ordering two pints of beer and playing a game of rock, paper, scissors while Motley licked at the empty plates. Jax had just lost another round, making him groan in defeat.

“Yes! I have won once again!” Pomni cheered, “That means that you have to give me another confession.”

“What else do I have to confess, I’ve already told you how much of a gem you are to the mind’s eye,” Jax smirked, winking at her.

“Seriously?” Pomni deadpanned, taking another sip of her beer, “Come on. Tell me something, anything! No matter how ridiculous it is.”

Jax sighed, there was one thing that came to mind. He wasn’t sure if it was him or the alcohol, but the next thing that came out of his mouth was, “I don’t want to be king.”

Pomni placed down her mug, her face serious and concerned.

“All my life,” Jax started, “I had everyone tell me who or what I would be. I’ve been confined to my position without having a chance to choose who I want to be. Even my parents, bless their hearts, already have my future planned in their heads. I just…I don’t want to be tied to this role. And even when I tried to make it my own, I had everyone else hate me for it.”

“But you wouldn’t be tied to it. Your parents are rulers, but I’m sure that didn’t stop them exploring who they want to be, and I’m sure that won’t stop you to,” Pomni told him. “And you’ll be in a position where you can change things for the better, to make things better for other people who have less. Just think of the wonderful things you could accomplish!”

Jax nodded slowly, processing what she said. He would be able to do that, he could lead his kingdom with the kindness and greatness the way Pomni viewed the world. “But what if its too late for me?” he asked, “What if I messed things up too much for people to see me that way?”

“Trust me, from my experience, its never too late to try and change how people view you,” Pomni said. “For better or worse, for what role you play, its always up to you with how you want to be viewed.”

Jax titled his head, Motley doing the same once he finished licking the plates, “What do you mean by that?”

Pomni paled, she said too much “My apologies your highness, I didn’t mean to overshare!”

“Hey, hey,” he gently took her hands into his. “You have no reason to apologize, and besides, I thought I told you to call me Jax.” He wiggled his eyebrows cheekily. Pomni shook her head as a faint smile graced her features, “There we go, better?” Pomni nodded. “Good. You don’t need to tell me anything if you’re not ready to do so, okay?”

Pomni tapped her nails on her mug. Apart from her family in the circus, she hadn’t shared her story to anyone. But with Jax, there was a security to him. He made her feel warm, content…safe. She never got that from any other stranger she met, even if they were the kindest folks she would ever come across, it paled in comparison to what Jax gave her in the past few days. It was peculiar, yet nice. Pomni took a breath, gripping Jax’s hand tighter and looked him in the eyes. She could do this.

“I don’t have many memories before I joined the circus,” Pomni said, “But I remember my Ma’s voice. I remember how gentle her voice was when she sang to me, and how she stroked my hair while I fell asleep. I would sing with her every time until I was too tired, and I remember how she would kiss my forehead the moment I shut my eyes. It was so peaceful…but one day, all of that ended.

I woke up to rubble falling on me while I was still in bed. I kept screaming out for my Ma, but I didn’t know that she was already gone at the time. I don’t know if it was a miracle, but because I was stuck for so long, nobody was able to find me. I was under there for hours, and all that was left of my village was destroyed. Including my family.

The reason why we were raided? It’s because of this,” she pulled her hands away for a moment, cupping them as the same blue mist from her performance hovered above them. “It’s not all a trick of the mind like cards and such. Everyone in my village was able to do this, to master the ability of manipulation, teleportation and telekinesis.”

She picked a daisy from her hair, “From disguising one thing to look a certain way.” She waved her hand, the mist making the daisy change to an orchid then back to its original form. “To making it go one place to another.” The mist formed again, with the daisy disappearing from her hand and reappearing in her other one. “To making it float,” once again, with the flick of the wrist, the daisy hovered a few inches off her hand by its own accord and floated back down again. “Everyone in my village was able to do it. That’s why they wanted us gone.”

Her face fell, but she continued her story nonetheless, “I remember screaming for my Ma once I got out, but deep down I knew that her soul was already within the heavens. So, with no home or no family, I left. I wandered for days, sore and hungry, until someone grabbed me and dragged me away. The next thing I knew I was in a circus tent, with Caine standing in front of me. He overheard that a survivor from my village managed to get out and wanted to use them…use me for his show. And since no five-year-old had the strength to escape, I was trapped there ever since.”

She wiped a few stray tears, she was stronger than this. She shouldn’t be getting emotional over this, it happened years ago! I won’t cry, I won’t cry, I won’t cry-

Jax’s warm hands encasing hers broke her out of her internal mantra, his eyes kind and focused. “I’m here,” he whispered, “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Pomni sniffed, letting the tears trail down her cheeks as she continued. “Every moment of my life spent there was hell. If I wasn’t sleeping, I was either training or performing with little to no breaks. But what made it worse was what Caine did. He didn’t just want to use my powers for the circus, but for himself too. Ever since he heard of the last survivor, he was given an amulet to absorb my powers and give them to him, so that he was able to do the things that I could do. It hurt, every single time. I didn’t even feel like a person anymore, just his sparkly little possession. And don’t get me wrong, I love my abilities! Its one of the last things I have from my people, but the fact that Caine kept using it for his own benefit made me feel dirty. It’s not his, its mine! He’s stealing my powers! He’s stealing me!” She choked on a cry at the last part, Jax gripped her hands tighter as Motley rubbed his head against her arm, both of them silently comforting her.

Pomni bit back a few tears, calming slightly when the thought of Kaufmo entered her mind. “If it wasn’t for Kaufmo, I don’t think I would have stayed sane,” she admitted. “He made sure that I was who I wanted to be, not Caine’s doll, not the circus jester. My Pa made sure that I and everyone else knew that I was Pomni. When he taught me to play guitar and helped me with my singing, because of that I felt closer to my Ma. I didn’t feel lost or scared, I felt like me. My music is important to me, it’s who I am! It’s the part of me that I can show people so they know what I’m like on the inside, so they can hear my story, my hopes, my dreams.”

“So when I told you that I wanted to know you because of your song…” Jax trailed off.

“Yeah,” Pomni nodded, “That was how I knew you were genuine. You didn’t see the performance, you heard my voice and wanted to know my story. No one ever gave me that. My family in the circus did, obviously. But outside of that, you are the only person who knew my music showed who I really was…thank you Jax.”

Before he could even process anything else, she leaned over across the table and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Even Motley seemed surprised, his little eyes widening. “Y-you’re w-welcome P-Pomni,” he stammered, “W-wow! I-is it-t w-warm out h-here or i-i-is it just-t m-me?”

Pomni hide a snicker behind her hand, it might be mean but she wanted to get a little bit of revenge for all of his teasing. Her eyes drifted over to the band on stage, they were taking a break and sipping some water to sooth their throats. But what really caught her attention was the lone guitar on stage. “I really want to play that right now,” she said aloud, many ideas of what to sing coming to mind right now.

Jax followed her gaze to the guitar and looked back to her, “Then go for it.”

“Huh?” Pomni whipped her head back round to it.

“I’m serious,” Jax said, “Show them the version of you that you showed me. Let them see how amazing you are.”

Pomni looked back to the guitar again, “You think?”

“I do,” Jax smiled, “And if it goes wrong you can blame me.”

Her lips quirked up into a grin, “I think I’m gonna do it.”

She placed down her mug and went over to the stage, she anxiously cleared her throat as the band leader turned to her, “Hi, um, is it okay if I play something?”

“By all means,” the band leader welcomed her warmly onto the stage.

Pomni picked up the guitar, wrapping the strap over her shoulder and held the instrument in the correct position. Dread finally settled in. So many eyes on her, so many people. Yes she always sang in her performances, but that was when she was doing her tricks and trapeze. That was what the crowds enjoyed, could she really do this? Would they want to see this part of her? Would it be enough?

Her breath quickened and her hands trembled, until her eyes met Jax’s. The way he was looking at her, with so much faith and excitement for what she had to say. Her nerves slowed and she sighed deeply. She could do this.

Her fingers started strumming the strings, a merry little tune filling the air as she began to sing.

There will come a soldier

Who carries a mighty sword

He will tear your city down

The band started to play along behind her, a few voices joining her.

Oh lei, oh lai, oh, Lord

Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh, Lord

He will tear your city down

Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh, Lord

The nerves were fading, her confidence building as she continued, her voice ringing throughout the crowd as they awed at her beautiful voice.

There will come a poet

Whose weapon is His word

He will slay you with His tongue

Oh lei, oh lai, oh, Lord

Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh, Lord

He will slay you with His tongue

Oh lei, oh lai, oh, Lord

The audience whooped and cheered. From within the sea of faces, she could see Kaufmo with the rest of the circus crew, clapping along and showing his support. Pomni laughed, nodding back at him.

Gangle took Zooble’s hand, leading her to the dance floor along with the other villagers and the two began to dance along to Pomni’s song. Sun and Moon got up as well, Ragatha and Kaufmo following behind. One by one, more people from the crowds collected a partner and started to dance. Even the two girls from earlier took both of Jax’s hands in their own, respectively, leaving Motley behind on the table as he watched his master get dragged onto the dance floor with glee.

Pomni giggled as the prince began to dance along, but she was able to tell that he was having fun.

There will come a ruler

Whose brow is laid in thorn

Smeared with oil like David's boy

Oh lei, oh lai, oh, Lord

Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh, Lord

Smeared with oil like David's boy

Oh lei, oh lai, oh, Lord

Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh, Lord

He will tear your city down, oh lei, oh lai

Ohh

Pomni gave the guitar back to the original player, thanking them quickly before running onto the dance floor as they continued the song. She took the hands of another person, skipping and prancing along with the song.

Jax looked ahead and saw Pomni dancing. While the tear stains were still there on her cheeks, gone was the pain that she held from telling her story. Instead, he saw the smart, kind, witty girl who lived freely and for herself. The girl he fell in love with.

Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lai, oh

The song began to pick up the pace, the dancing becoming faster and faster. No one could hold back their laughter and cheer, even Jax was unable to hold back the excited whoops from his throat the more he changed from partner to partner.

Pomni had her eyes closed, the bliss and liberty from the music letting her lead her steps. This was her. This was who she was. She never felt happier.

Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lai

Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lai, oh

The music stopped abruptly, Pomni opened her eyes to see who her last partner was that she collided with.

Jax.

The two panted for air, their hearts pounding from the dance and from…something else. Their smiles were starting to hurt their cheeks, but they didn’t care.

Everyone started to clap and cheer, it was another perfect festival that ended with another perfect dance. This time, it was led by a song that was performed by a wonderful singer.

Pomni rested her head on Jax’s chest, exhaustion catching up to her, “Thank you Jax…for everything.”

Jax’s tail was wagging, on full display for the rest of the kingdom to see. But he didn’t care. Seeing Pomni this happy and content was more than he could ever ask for. He rested his chin on her head, “You’re welcome Pomni.”

A mysterious man in red paced in his office, nursing a glass of whiskey in the shadows as one of his right-hand men looked on with worry and a little bit of fear. “They should have been back with news by now,” the red man growled.

“I’m sure they won’t take long sir,” the right-hand man assured him, trying to save himself from his boss’s wrath.

He nearly sighed with relief when a raider burst through the door, gasping for air and desperate to tell his story, “Sir! I’m sorry it took me so long, but Laphria guards were stronger than they looked-”

“I don’t want excuses,” The man in red murmured, “I want your report.”

“Right,” the raider straightened up, “We managed to get our hands on Pomni but…”

“But what!” the man in red snapped, making the raider gulped.

“B-but she regained some of her powers and tried to escape,” the raider explained, “One of our men hit her head and was then attacked by Prince Jax, who took her back to the castle.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you didn’t capture my jester?” the man in red mused.

“N-no sir,” the raider trembled.

The man in red hummed, before stepping out of the shadows wielding a dagger, stabbing the raider in the chest. He choked and spluttered as a terrifying pair of eyes stared down at him through a pair of teeth. Eventually the knife was pulled out of his chest, leaving him to bleed out on the floor.

The right-hand man could only look on in horror as the raider bled out to death, praying that he wasn’t next.

“No matter,” Caine murmured, sitting back down at his desk. “I can be patient. Soon their guard will be lowered enough and my possession will be back in my clutches soon. It’s only a matter of time before Pomni comes home.”

Song Credit: Solider, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos

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mtnkat3 · 2 years

Text

9.45am [done in my diary so took time & space wack.]

@the-lone-cowboy & @the-pen-and-the-pistol

Oh the irony...

"LC" as I received that heavy blow, I was standing in the shower drafting this apology message & thanking you for being kind to me.

But I do understand why.

It is my wake up call.

Just as "Pen" disappearing is.

I was wrong.

Again.

Sigh.

And since it's not obvious, I guess, I have been writing solely to you LC as well as Pen from March until now.

[My birthday week.]

See, this trip wasn't ~just~ me going on a sojourn to find my mates.

It was also to celebrate & relax & regroup a bit.

Having gotten my final divorce decree the Thursday before I left.

Then tomorrow being my birthday.

I'd actually been planning this trip since... ~2019, I think?

But.

I messed up.

With you, LC, again.

And you are right too.

As soon as I finish writing this humiliating post I'm gonna get back to finding counseling to deal with the fallout of having been with the monster for too long.

And stay away from social media.

I feel attachments & connections to people that aren't there.

Yes, I find your thoughts beautiful LC.

But the feelings weren't reciprocated by you & I must accept that I was a fool.

For both of you.

Why.

Because I was living in a fantasyland.

MfM is for books, not real life.

As is the chances of me finding my true love.

As of this, I'm giving up hope.

It's better to be God's warrior nun than to be disturbing other peoples lives with my ideas of what a beautiful life is.

"True love waits."

And that is God waiting on me.

To stop trying to think ~I~ know what His Plans are.

I obviously don't.

I've made some whoppers of mistakes.

I can only pray that you, LC, & you Pen, can forgive me.

A depressed woman, seeing with my heart, rather than with my eyes & mind.

I do humbly aplogize.

I'm not a crazy woman, just... wrong.

And I need a counselor to help me figure out why I get attached, why I liked you all so much, why I thought it was reciprocated. Why I like MfM books.

The whole huge ass cinnabon cinnamon roll rolled up with lots of cinnamon, pecans, & caramel. Maybe even apples tooo...

I am indeed walking this alone Pen.

And also, thank you too for being kind to me.

I have spoken with you both & both were perfect gentlemen to me.

I am only sorry that I screwed up so royally that you both felt it necessary to pull back so profoundly.

I was wrong.

I am sorry.

I wish I could tell you each how much.

But this public apology will have to suffice.

This woman's gonna go back to being a turtle, but.. I'm going to do so with God's Grace, Mercy, & Guidance.

And a counselor.

And after the storm clouds this morning, God is shining His light out there in the gulf.

Just so you both know...

This isn't easy for me. I've had many sleepless nights thinking & wondering & debating.

But since I was wrong.

I need to remap my neural pathways & rethink relationships.

Wrapping my head around that I'm alone. And only God loves me & wants me around.

I'm sorry for thinking that You/Alll were my mates. I saw similarities between You & my past & made correlations between that just didn't exist.

I am trying to work on this.

I don't understand why of any of this. Why I have to be humiliated.

Why I did any of what I have.

I just don't get it.

Welll... Other than I thought it was reciprocated true love.

But thank you both.

And to the ladies whom have your hearts & souls keys... indeed, are blessed & privileged ladies for such good, wonderful men whom love them.

My apologies for disrupting in any way, shape, or form.

Good luck, thoughts, & prayers to you, LC & to you, Pen.

I'm gonna be quiet now.

And let God cleanse my soul of the adversary's tricks upon me.

Thank you.

For being kind when you didn't have to be.

Thank You Jesus.

For the life lesson in humility.

I got too big for my britches & this year has been my smackdown.

As much as I wanna hide because I am humiliated, I cannot. I will learn from this. Because it's why it happened.

And I believe in owning my mistakes.

No matter how painful, embarrassing, humiliating, just flipping stupid I've been.

Those books are for fluff enjoying, not about real love.

And ~if~ God indeed has A soul mate He Created with me... then maybe I'll someday deserve to actually meet him.

Until then, rebuilding the damaged pieces of my psyche, as well as my health & life. To be the independent woman I'm meant to be, not a shell, not unless God deems it, a true soul mate. Then I will be alone.

Heck, have my menagerie & a garden. Build the life I've dreamt of having... just... not with my soul's mate.

Until God decides otherwise.

True love waits.

I am, profoundly, sorry LC, & Pen.

May you each walk with God, & your paths be blessed with love, life, & laughter.

Sincerely, humbly,

~Tijgeress kat Phoenix.

Tu.8.16.2022 10.40am

11.03am

😨😥🙈🙊🙉💔☔⚓🙏🙇‍♀️🧭🕯

🦉🐢🐛🦋🌱🌺🌳🌹🌻🌷🍀🧶🧵🧩⚖🌂🔗

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sarasapen · 3 years

Text

Among the Blues and Greens

Another installation of the Little One series.

Summary: Meditation often allowed for Jedi to discover and learn about their thoughts and feelings, aiding them in solving their problems. This meditation session unfortunately reveals more than you’d like.

Or the one in which Obi-Wan’s Padawan realises she loves him.

Warnings: Language, meditation, slow dancing, yearning, revelations, forehead kisses, Past Obitine relationship mentions

Word Count: 3k

Star Wars Masterlist

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You were a fraud.

Whenever you felt particularly emotional, you meditated, as any good Jedi was supposed to do. Before daybreak, the gardens at the Sundari Royal Palace were relatively uninhabited, at least by people. You didn’t mind the plants and animals. Their energies were soothing, incorrupt, they just were. That’s how you find yourself there, for the third day in a row, trying desperately to calm the tempest that’s seen fit to take up permanent residence in your mind.

Why were you a fraud? A fake? A poser?

Because here you were, years of training under your belt, pretending to meditate. Fraud.

It was an old ‘trick’ that young Padawans- very young Padawans, you added- resorted to when they were made to meditate. Sitting there with your eyes closed, trying to keep your breathing even. No actual self-exploration or deep diving into your mind, just putting up a facade that any force insensitive being wouldn’t see through.

Unfortunately for you, Obi-Wan Kenobi was Force sensitive.

“You’re pretending,” He muses, lowering himself beside you and crossing his legs, assuming the same position you were in. You keep your eyes closed, forcing your breaths to remain even as if he hadn’t even spoken. He sees right through it, amusement weaving into the deep blues that were his signature.

Oftentimes you wondered what it was like, to be in the middle of all that was him. Observing one’s signature from the outside was very much different than actually experiencing it. Each individual’s signature was different, and his signature was always so wonderful… You wanted to learn more about it, about him. But you knew you wouldn’t ever dare to be brash enough to even brush your signature against his, let alone delve into him fully.

His signature morphs, from the vibrant, rich hums to a gentle, soothing wave. He’s meditating.

You scowl.

He’s barely been sitting down for a minute, and he’s already accomplished what you’ve been trying to do for the past three days.

“Focus your thoughts on something,” He suggests quietly, sending out a wash of calm over your prickling irritation. He’s guiding you, as he used to do years ago when you were a young and distractible little thing, and you let him.

You’d let him do anything.

You’re swept backwards into the deep abyss that’s your mind, and you fall freely, watching Obi-Wan’s signature withdraw slowly from yours. It’s like watching waves upon the shore, gently sweeping backwards and away, taking with it such tiny, essential parts of you while simultaneously shaping you into a thing to behold. It was always, before anything else, soothing.

He didn’t like studying others’ energies too closely. It was a common trait amongst blue sabers, whilst reading people's energies were crucial for the Jedi, studying them at great lengths could often prove to be uncomfortable. But yours, he had said. He wouldn’t mind spending days traversing the inside of your mind if you’d let him.

When you were younger, you’d asked him what your signature looked like to him. He said it was a mass of shades of green that were so beautiful he doubted the mere names of the colours or any other descriptive words would be able to do them any justice.

Beautiful, was the word he’d always use.

And he was…gentle, and kind, and smart. You exhale slowly, no longer stiff in your posture. He’s always been so patient with you, even with his occasional sarcastic comment. The perfect Jedi.

Even as a youngling, you’d hear exaggerated stories from Padawans slightly older than you, or, at least, he insisted they were exaggerated. A few years into your training with him, you began to think that maybe the far-fetched stories weren’t so far-fetched after all.

You’re so lucky, younglings would say shortly after you had become his Padawan. After all, Master Kenobi’s previous Padawan was the Chosen One. You’d have to be something special to attract his attention.

And you were lucky. But not for the glory and the awe that sparkled in people’s eyes at the mention of his name. It was for his undivided attention on you, his genuine interest in the things you enjoyed, his efforts to shift your training to aid in what you wanted to specialise in, even if it was wildly different from what he was good at.

Not that there was much he wasn’t good at.

You loved the way he carried himself, not with arrogance or pride (both of which you thought would have been deserved), but with a humble sort of almost shyness. You loved that he pushed to do better, to be better, not for himself but for you and Anakin. You loved the way he conducted himself with people, even those considered to be the lowest of the lows, he treated them with so much respect and kindness.

Perhaps it was just that he was a decent human being, but that didn’t mean you loved him any less.

You loved the way he’d throw in a sharp remark when facing an adversary, or the way he’d stand tall even in the face of-

Hold on.

You loved him.

You loved him. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

“What are you thinking about?” Obi-Wan calls from beside you, his voice no louder than a low murmur, and it still makes you flinch. “You’ve grown tense.”

Play dumb. You could do that. Just… blurt out something random and leave it at that, and then you can-

“She seems nice.”

FUCK. Not that fucking dumb oh stars above you were so fucking screwed-

“She… The Duchess?”

“Yeah, your Duchess.” Oh kriffing hells, if you could just. stop. talking.

“Duchess Satine is not my Duchess,” His force signature dips suddenly, as if he’s reeled everything back into himself. It pulls you along with it, and you can no longer pretend that you’re meditating. Not with the way your Master turns to face you, studying your features with a concerned curiosity. You tense up again, keeping your eyes trained on a lone tree, a distance away. There’s a caterpillar crawling on one of the branches, and you focus on that. You can tell that he can tell. He’s always been so good at reading you.

“You…” He starts, but stops himself, straightening and regarding you once again.

“Sometimes I find myself having to meditate more than usual. Even up to a few times a day, if I’m…” Obi-Wan’s gaze flickers down from your eyes for just a split second, a movement so quick he doesn’t even realise he’s done it. “Distracted.”

There’s a stutter in your signature, one you try to hide by slamming up your walls, but the brush of Obi-Wan’s hand against your arm has you faltering. The waves of him approach slowly once again, waiting patiently beside the storm that’s your signature.

“What’s gotten you so tense?” He probes gently, the weight of his hand against your shoulder mirroring the gentle reassuring taps of his signature against yours.

“Do you love her?”

You know what. There’s a ledge. Right there. You could just jump off. If you were dead you wouldn’t be facing this amount of embarrassment.

“...I used to,” Obi-Wan reveals, and his admission surprises himself more than it does you. Not that he wasn’t aware of what the extent of feelings for Satine used to be, but admitting it, out loud? It was something he had never done before.

“Used to?”

“It was a lifetime ago, when I was still a Padawan.”

It’s strange. Neither of you want to continue talking, to keep delving into dark and murky uncharted territory, between the blurred depths of what’s allowed and what’s forbidden. It scares you. It scares him too.

“So… what? You decided to give her up?”

He should say something about the way of the Jedi, that attachments were forbidden, and that had anyone else known, they would’ve expected him to leave Satine. If it were anyone else asking him this, he would’ve said it, accompanied by a deserved lecture on subtlety and manners.

But you’re the exception.

You’d always be his only exception.

So, instead, Obi-Wan says, “The Duchess, while a remarkable woman, has a very different outlook on life than I do, even back then.”

There's a stretch of silence that he feels like he needs to fill. “Besides, it gave me the chance to meet people even more remarkable.”

“Not many people can compare to the Duchess of Mandalore,” You mutter, closing your eyes to block out the sight of him when he gets to his feet.

“No,” Obi-Wan agrees. “Although the Duchess couldn’t come close to comparing to you.”

And with that heart-stopping revelation, he leans down and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Focus,” Obi-Wan whispers in your ear, and then he’s gone.

Now you really couldn’t concentrate.

——

“Breathe,” Obi-Wan had instructed you, sitting beside your fidgety body with his own long-since perfected form.

It was the second week into your Padawan training, and it had taken Obi-Wan twenty three minutes to get you to sit still. Not including the sixteen minutes it took to get you past the normally three minute walk from library to your room, or the seven minutes it took for you to pad over to him and sit beside him. Not for your lack of trying, Obi-Wan mused, watching you fidget once again.

Your eyes fly open at his words.

“If I stop breathing during meditation will I die?”

Yeah, okay, that one was on him. It takes a lot of control for Obi-Wan not to choke on his overwhelming surprise at your words.

“Meditation can only occur when you stop speaking, little one,” He hints, keeping his posture straight. Thirty two minutes now, he’s been sitting in this position, not meditating, but focused on your wild little signature.

“Oh, yeah,” You concede, shifting again and screwing your eyes shut.

Master Kenobi, the whisper-shout in his head very nearly startles him, and Obi-Wan can’t keep pretending his focus is impeccable. He turns to regard you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. If I stop breathing during meditation, will I die?

Again, to your credit, you weren’t exactly… speaking.

Perhaps that’s why, with a self-indulgent smile, he sends back a quick no.

Okay, you accept happily, shifting again in your seat. Your early days were so much like Anakin’s. Both of you, filled with a curiosity and outlook on the world that only children could view, and it baffled him to no end that both of you viewed him in exactly the same way.

You just accepted everything he said without much thought, readily eager to believe that your Master was always right, because what else could he ever be? It was perhaps that specific period of time during both his Padawans’ training that Obi-Wan was the most stressed. The first few years were the years he felt as though he could disappoint you the most, to fail to protect you and teach you and nurture you.

He didn’t fail. He didn’t even come close. You’d tell him if you could. Anakin would tell him too. But it just wasn’t a conversation Jedis had.

And…there.

You’re not meditating. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to say something, but the words die in his throat when he feels you oh so carefully reach out your signature. He follows along at a distance, careful not to alert you, and he watches as your signature gingerly approaches the plant situated outside your apartment door.

The plant. You were connecting with the plant.

You’re calm, he realises. Nearly ridiculously so, if he didn’t know any better he’d think your signature was that of a fully trained knight. The spurts and bursts and branches that were usually your energy flutter gently down, acting obedient and serene.

It’s… for lack of a better word, beautiful.

So with your thoughts centered around that little plant outside, all Obi-Wan has to do is give you just a little nudge that blocks out all other distractions for you- maybe it’s cheating, but he wants to see what will happen.

And then you’re meditating.

——

“It’s the first time I’ve worn a dress!” Swishing the fabrics of the skirt around you, you’re easily entranced by the movement. It’s a pretty dress, courtesy of the Mandalorian court, floaty and airy with barely there off-the shoulder sleeves. It reveals more of you than Jedi robes would ever, but you’re so enraptured with such innocent curiosity that Obi-Wan doesn’t even try to suppress the affectionate smile he gives you.

“You look lovely,” He responds honestly, pushing himself off the couch and taking slow steps towards you.

“I feel like a… like a…” You pause, glancing up from your skirts to fix your eyes on him, mind racing.

“Like a?” Obi-Wan prompts.

“Like a cloud!” You settle for, twirling around as if to emphasise your floaty feeling.

“A cloud?” He confirms, voice laced with amusement. He takes your hand, twirling you around once more through your giggles.

“Yeah.”

“Well, you’re the prettiest cloud I’ve ever seen,” Folding his hand over your own, he steps into your space mid-twirl, his other hand coming to press flat against your back. He doesn’t know what propelled him to do this, to press you against him and pull you into little steps around the room. The giggles he gets from you are enough to diminish any second thoughts he gets, so he hums softly, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

Your little impromptu dance session is made to end as quickly as it started, a knock on his door reminding the both of you the reason for such fanciful dressing.

A dinner.

It was exciting to you, as most off-world mission events were, so different from the usual routine of your life on Coruscant. Your excitement is blindingly obvious, and yet Obi-Wan, who’s long since tired of having to accept invitations lest the Jedi be perceived as discourteous, Obi-Wan says nothing at all. He gives you a warm smile and gestures for you to move towards the door.

And oh, what a dinner it was. The food was marvelous, the company a little less so, but the moments you’d glance up at your Master to find him already watching you made up for it. If only he weren’t seated so far away… and so close to the Duchess. You don’t turn your head in their direction again.

Apparently a royal dinner on Mandalore was not just dinner, so after an hour of sitting at a table several seats away from your Master and surrounded by boring politicians, you’re ushered into a ballroom. Several ask for your hand to dance, but you turn them down with a polite smile and even politer excuse. You want to dance, you do. Just… not with them.

Then you see her.

She had changed her dress, and she was gorgeous. Elegant and beautiful and carrying herself with such grace even on the dancefloor, she looked every bit the Duchess she was. You sort of hated her.

“The prettiest, huh?” You mutter bitterly under your breath, taking a moment to try to calm yourself. You take another breath when you turn to face Obi-Wan, expecting his eyes to be on her. Everyone’s eyes were on her.

He’s looking at you.

You immediately curse yourself out for the snide comment, hating that you’ve revealed yourself, your insecurities, that he’s going to admonish you for a silly little comment that just slipped out.

Instead, he holds his hand out towards you, and bends down a little in a bow.

“If I may have this dance, my dear?” The words come out as a low murmur, and even with the loud applause of everyone around you signalling the end of the Duchess’ dance, you hear him perfectly. Your cheeks are flushed and you’re trying impossibly hard to keep your breathing even as you slide your hand into his, letting him lead you to the middle of the dance floor.

It’s strange, you think.

The two of you have been in arguably far closer quarters than you were in now, with a decent amount of space between your bodies, joined only by your hand in his and his other hand on your waist. You’ve trained together, sparred together, been forced into close confines in the middle of missions and on occasion even slept in the same bed together.

Obi-Wan’s grip on your hand tightens, the tips of his fingers skimming up your back and brushing tantalisingly against the skin that’s uncovered by the dress.

No, this… this, in front of a whole room of people from all over the galaxy, this was far more intimate than anything ever before. It’s almost as if you’ve been transported back in time just a couple of hours ago, when it was just him and you in the privacy of your quarters.

“The prettiest,” he confirms, voice low in your ear. Your breath hitches at his statement and all its implications. “It’s not even a competition.”

Good things, as all things do, must eventually come to an end. Obi-Wan guides a slightly tipsy and very giggly you back towards your room, laughing despite himself when you trip over your own two feet. The last thing he wants after a successful mission is for you to get concussed by falling.

He bends and effortlessly sweeps you into your arms, letting you swing your legs in the air. It’s not the first time he’s been in this position with you. Perhaps he’s carried you like this a little too often. His thoughts don’t linger on that topic for long.

You change out of your dress and sit cross-legged in front of him, letting him brush out your hair and pull it back into a braid for you to sleep in, actions so practised that they’re not even spoken about.

And on the floor of your room, discarded almost carelessly at the end of the bed, lay two weapons beside each other, one green, and one blue.

-----

The next one will be Obi-Wan’s revelation ;)

-----

Obi-Wan taglist:

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#obi wan fluff #little one #little one series #fluff #obi wan is in love but doesn’t realise it #slow dancing #meditation #obi wan kenobi #obi wan fic #obi wan fanfiction #reader #padawan reader #master x padawan #dancing #ewan mcgregor #Star Wars #Star Wars prequels

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thedummysdummy · 2 years

Text

I really shouldn't make timeline promises... It seems to result in me getting ill! In any case, here is the piece I promised. Hopefully you enjoy it; it was a lot of fun to write.

Not Another Story About Slippers

“I fail to see how my marital status affects anything at this point. You have many years left, Father, so I will not be ascending the throne for quite some time. I want only to focus on my goods trading and building the wealth of the empire.”

The king sighed, shaking his head at the headstrong prince. “Prince Victor, you know that I desire marriage for you in a more personal way. I want you to be happy, son. Do you really feel completely fulfilled with just the money in your coffers? I know you better than that.”

Prince Victor scoffed and turned away from the king. “I have everything I need in life already. When the time comes, I am perfectly prepared to ascend to the throne on my own. We have spoken about this time and time again.” He folded his arms and turned back to face his father, who was frowning softly back at him. “Father, I know that look.”

“Son, you need to give up that memory of yours. Every girl of the proper age in the kingdom has been presented and rejected based on some dream you had as a child. You need to grow into a man and realize what everyone has always known, while still humoring your whims.” The king balled his hand into a fist and pounded it once on the arm of the throne. “You need to stop thinking only of yourself and think of the kingdom. If you do not marry, not only will you break tradition but you will break the bloodline. And you would break your late mother’s heart.” His dark eyes met those of his son. The pair engaged in a long staring match of wills, resulting in a sigh of frustration from both sides.

The king sat up straighter and smoothed out his features. “We have sent out invitations to a grand ball to every home in the kingdom. I present this chance to you to take one last opportunity to examine all the young women in search of this mythical girl. And when you do not find her, I expect that you will give up this childhood dream and become a man.”

Victor’s eyes hardened at the accusation of childishness. “Fine. I suppose I don’t have a choice in the existence of the ball as the invitations have already gone out. But I do not appreciate your questioning of my manhood. I will find the girl and prove you and the entire kingdom wrong.” The prince turned on his heel and disappeared from the throne room, leaving the king shaking his head.

“I hope you do, my boy. I hope you do.”

~~~

Far off in the reaches of the kingdom, a girl carried a bucket of water from the well to fill the dish sink of her stepmother’s house. A bead of sweat dripped down her dirty cheek, leaving a streak behind. “Come on, hurry up! We are hungry and cannot eat until you get these dishes clean! Stop being so lazy!” The two step sisters spat their insults from the lavish seating of their mother’s sitting room, faces screwed up to ugliness with hatred. “You probably still think you’re better than us, don’t you? Just because your father’s trade was financed by the crown himself? But the final payment is next week, isn’t it? And you know it will go straight to mother. Who knows if she will keep you around now that you’re no longer useful to us!”

They giggled and the girl did her best to ignore their taunts, her mind focusing instead on her schemes to get in front of the king to convince him to allow her to take over her late father’s company instead of declaring it dead with him. But it wasn’t easy for the orphaned daughter of a humble entertainer to gain an audience with the crown…

A knock on the door broke the girl out of her reverie and she quickly dried her hands, rushing to get the door before her stepmother was disturbed by the noise. She pulled it open to find a royal messenger standing there with a scroll in his hand. He smiled at the girl and handed her the parchment. “M’lady, the king has invited every young woman in the kingdom to attend a ball at the castle to celebrate this year’s bounteous harvest.”

“I’ll be sure to let the ladies of the house know,” the girl replied, running her finger softly over the wax seal, stamped with the ring of the king himself. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.”

The messenger laughed and lifted the girl’s chin. “You should be, too. The invitation is for every maiden in the kingdom.” His meaning was clear and the girl’s eyes brightened. He flashed her a nod and a smile, then stepped back and gave a slight bow. “Now, I must be on my way. Lots of houses in the kingdom!”

She smiled and waved, clutching the scroll to her chest in excitement. This was her chance! Surely the fates were looking on her with kindness today and her wish was sure to be granted! The girl spun around happily on one heel, only to find herself face to face with her two stepsisters. The elder one reached out and ripped the scroll out of the girl’s hands, broke it open, and erupted in a flurry of squeals. The younger sister snatched the parchment and joined the cacophony. “Mother! Mother!” they howled, racing off into the further reaches of the house. “Mother! This is our chance to meet the prince!”

With her stepsisters out of the way, the girl sighed and went back to washing the dishes. She took the opportunity to also wash her face, feeling better than she had since her father’s funeral. She was going to save the company! All she had to do was catch the attention of the prince at the ball. How hard could that be, really?

~~~

"I can't find my shoes!"

"My dress has popped a seam! It needs to be fixed!"

"My hair isn't done! How can I meet the prince with my hair in this state?!"

The girl scampered from sister to sister, doing her best to accommodate their ever growing list of demands. Meanwhile her own gown lay unworn on her bed. The hour was fast approaching that they would need to depart and it grew increasingly obvious that the girl would never get herself ready in time if her sisters kept up their tirade.

However, the hope in her heart kept the girl going. She tied bows, combed hair, applied makeup, and when the coach came to pick them up… She still had yet to so much as wash her face. "There's no way you're going to the ball in such a state!" the stepmother declared, sneering at the girl with disdain. "Besides, there is no way an orphan servant girl such as yourself would be invited to the ball with the rest of us. Come now, coachman. We must be off or we will be late!"

Tears that had been held back far longer than today's exchange began running down the girl's cheeks. She dropped to the dusty dirt road and pulled her knees tight to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. She buried her face in her knees and cried, allowing all the pent up sadness and fear to run its course. When the depth and waves of her emotion no longer threatened to drown her, the girl wiped her face and picked herself up from the ground. "Sitting here pitying myself and hoping for a miracle isn't going to save my father's troupe...I have to get to the palace, even if I have to walk!"

She washed and dressed as quickly as she could, looking at her simple dress in the mirror with a bit of a scowl. Something was missing…the girl looked at the dusty brown shoes on her feet and remembered something her father had given her long ago. She jumped to motion and pulled a box from beneath her bed, opening it to reveal a delicate pair of glass slippers. "Such a beautiful girl deserves something equally beautiful," her father had said as he handed her the box. "Someday you'll have reason to wear these shoes and I hope you feel like a princess when you do."

Remembering her father's voice brought a smile to the girl's face. She pulled the shoes from the box and slipped her feet inside, finding that they fit absolutely perfectly. Another glimpse in the mirror widened her smile and the girl headed for the door.

The castle was a good three miles away and while she knew it was not impossible, the task of walking there felt insurmountable. Her feet quickly tired and she leaned to rest against a tree. The sun was disappearing behind the mountains and the stillness of evening was descending like a comforting blanket on the land. Not comforting to the girl, however… Every moment of darkness made her travel more difficult and dangerous. She sighed, pushed away from the tree, and was about to continue down the path when the sound of wheels could be heard behind her.

"Hail! Surely a maiden such as yourself isn't planning to walk all the way to the castle?"

The jolly face of the driver beamed down from his carriage. "Why don't you climb in with my daughters and ride to the ball with us? I would imagine that's where you're going, all dressed up like that." The girl nodded gratefully and joined two much younger girls in the carriage. They chattered excitedly all the way to the castle, and by the time the carriage pulled up to the gates, the girls felt rather fond of each other.

"I'll be back to pick you up at midnight, my little chickadees. That includes you, miss. Can't have you walking down that lonely road at such an hour. Just be back here by the last chime of midnight and we'll ensure you make it safely home."

The girl grasped the man's hand and bowed her head gratefully. "You have no idea how much your kindness means to me, sir. I can't really repay you, but if there's anything I can do for you, do not hesitate to ask!"

"No bother at all, my dear. We were headed here anyway. What's one more passenger? Now go, don't be late!" He waved the three girls inside and disappeared into the growing darkness, leaving a sweet feeling in the girl's chest.

Together the girls entered the ballroom and almost immediately were pulled in separate directions. The driver's daughters headed for the banquet table, while the girl began searching for the prince. It shouldn't be too hard to find him in a group obsessed with getting close to the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom, right? Well, that was right… But getting to him was going to be a challenge.

An orchestra played soft dance music and the floor was crowded. Girls practically crushed each other in their efforts to get a turn to dance with the prince and hopefully win his favor. Meanwhile the prince danced with a smile on his face and a scowl in his heart. He knew exactly what was supposed to happen at this ball, but he had no intentions of allowing his father's scheme to come to fruition.

Hours passed and the girl fought through the crowd, coming close to the prince occasionally only to be pushed away by another guest. Finally she gave up and chose to watch the dancing from the top of the staircase. The floor below was a kaleidoscope of flowing, colorful dresses. The prince moved amongst them clad all in white, eyes moving from face to face without warmth. Until, however, he glanced up and those dark eyes met the girl's. His posture changed and the prince broke away from the crowd, hurrying up the steps without breaking that intense beam of eye contact.

The guests parted to allow the prince through until he stood before the girl and extended a hand. "Dance with me."

Heart beating against her ribcage, the girl reached out and took his warm, soft hand. The prince led her to the dance floor and took a gentle dance position, hand resting between her shoulder blades. The pair began to dance, eyes locked and lips frozen. Though she tried multiple times to open her mouth and make her request, the girl found herself locked in those deep, dark eyes. From the dais, the king watched with a grin spreading from his mouth to his eyes. It seemed to have happened! The prince was finally showing interest in a woman!

The pair danced closer and closer, the room fading away to a blur of color and sound. "I feel that we've met before," the prince finally uttered, staring even more intensely into her eyes. "I-"

Prince Victor's voice was drowned out by the deep boom of the clock tower. "It's midnight?!" the girl exclaimed, pulling away from the prince. "I have to go!" She turned and sprinted for the door, not wishing to inconvenience the kind carriage driver. In her haste the glass slippers fell from her feet, but in a split second decision she left them behind. What occasion more glorious than this evening was she ever likely to experience? They had fulfilled their promise to her father.

Meanwhile, Prince Victor reached out a hand after the girl calling out, "Where are you going? I don't even know your name!" But she disappeared so quickly into the crowd that he lost sight of her in moments. "Guards! Find that girl! I must know her name!"

The guard scattered, searching every square inch of the castle for the girl who had already climbed into the carriage set for home. They returned with both glass slippers and handed them to the prince. "This is the only sign of the girl we could find," they said, voices full of apology. The prince accepted the slippers and waved the guards away. Exhaustion set in and the prince retired to his chambers, set on finding the girl in the morning.

~~~

"Well, we have the slippers. We could send the royal guard throughout the kingdom to bring back anyone whose feet fit?" The king turned his eyes on his pacing son, desire to help pulsing in his chest.

Victor rolled his eyes and pounded the wall with his fist. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! How many women do you think have the same size foot in this kingdom? I'm sure it's a ridiculous number!"

"But it could at least help narrow down the numbers? It would allow the guard to help you search without having to know exactly who they are looking for. Otherwise you'd have to check every house for yourself."

The prince sighed and his shoulders relaxed. "I suppose you are right. But I'm still going to search myself. Send out announcements and guards; make sure the entire kingdom knows of my search."

A nod and wave of the hand from the king set the search in motion, but the king wasn't finished. "This is going to bring many, many women claiming to be the girl you are searching for. How do you intend to figure out who she is?"

"Do you think I'm a dummy? When I see her, I will recognize her. I don't need slippers or quizzes or outside sources to confirm her to me. This is the girl I've dreamed about since childhood and I will know her the moment our eyes meet again."

"I trust you, my son. Good luck on your search, but don't feel like you have to do this all on your own." The king smiled and the prince left with a nod.

~~~

Three days passed and hundreds of girls had passed through the castle gates. So large were the numbers that Prince Victor didn't have any time to ride out and search on his own. His frustration grew until he rose from the throne and shook off his robe. "I will not sit here any longer. Prepare my horse; I'm going out myself."

Nobody made any move to argue with the prince when he used that tone. The horse was prepared faster than the prince could walk to the stable and he was off the moment his trousers hit the saddle. The guard appointed to accompany him spurred his own horse into action, intent on not allowing the prince out of his sight. He also carried in a small pouch one of the glass slippers. Just in case, of course.

Houses that had already been cleared were marked with a ribbon on the door, allowing Victor to ride by without a second glance. All the houses in the inner ring of the city bore such a marker; the royal couriers had been busy. Further and further out he rode to where the houses were farther and farther apart. Here he found the first unmarked house and knocked briskly at the door. The residents gladly presented their daughters and, when Victor had confirmed neither of them were the treasure of his search, the prince moved on.

The hours dragged by as Prince Victor knocked on door after door, only to be disappointed again and again. "Sire, shouldn't we head back to the castle for the night? It has long since grown dark and surely your subjects are abed already."

Victor shook his head and continued to direct his horse down a long and lonely road. "I will not stop until I have found the girl. I lost her once and I will not lose her again." The guard sighed but followed, the light of the full moon illuminating their steps.

At the end of the road, the pair came upon what once must have been a grand villa, but now stood only a dusty memory of its former glory. In the window burned a candle, which allowed the prince to see slight movement inside. Victor stopped his horse at the gate and strode forward boldly, not allowing the exhaustion of the day to show in his strong shoulders.

Thud. Thud.

The hollow sound of a fist on the door startled the girl, who was busy scrubbing away at the floors. After the other residents of the home had gone to bed was the easiest time for such chores and the girl found great solitude in the stillness of the night. But the sudden pounding at the door set her heart racing. Was it a thief? Someone roaming the countryside in search of abandoned riches in the ancient houses? For a moment she considered not answering the door until a voice called out, "Open up in the name of Prince Victor!"

The ruckus had woken the girl's step sisters and step mother, who brushed past the girl as if she did not exist. The stepmother pulled the door open with a scowl, which turned immediately to a deep bow as she saw the prince standing in her doorway. "Your highness!" she exclaimed, smacking the backs of her daughters' knees. They, too, dropped their heads quickly. "What graces us with the honor of a visit from the prince himself at such an hour?"

Victor looked with disdain at the three, who turned their heads slightly upwards to meet his eyes. "I am searching for the girl I intend to marry. Did the declaration not make it this far into the kingdom?"

The three women shook their heads, but interest immediately filled their eyes. "A girl? Why, perhaps you could be searching for one of my daughters?"

"Doubtful," Victor replied, causing the two stepsisters to jump up in indignation. The guard held up the slipper, which caused the prince to sigh. "Fine, try it on them. But neither of them are the girl."

The guard hopefully gestured for the women to sit and try on the slipper. The eldest went first, but she could barely get her toes inside. "Give me that!" the younger sister shouted, grabbing at the shoe. "You have great, ugly feet anyway! I'll show you now that MY slipper fits my dainty feet perfectly!"

She slammed her foot into the slipper… Or tried to, at least. She got no further than her elder sister, who stuck out her tongue. Victor growled and the guard snatched the shoe back, holding it carefully in his hand. The prince looked at the mother and shook his head. "Are there any other maidens in the home?"

"Absolutely not. Only my two daughters, who are obviously too good for a stuck up fool such as yourself. You'd be lucky to marry one of them!"

Victor's eyes narrowed, but before he could retort, a soft voice came from the other room. "Your highness, I am here, too. Despite their best efforts to pretend I don't exist."

The girl stepped into the room holding the candle and for Victor, it seemed the world stood still. His breath quickened and he reached out a hand. "It is you!" he whispered, the corners of his lips turning upward for the first time in days. "You are the most elusive girl in the kingdom! I've been searching for you my entire life."

Though confused, the girl stepped closer and allowed the prince a better look. The guard lifted the slipper. "Sire, shouldn't we make sure?"

"You and that damn slipper!" Victor growled, snatching it from the guard and shattering it on the ground. "As I told my father, I know she is the girl from the ball just by looking at her. I'm not so blind or foolish as to need a slipper to tell me what I already know!"

Tears filled the girl's eyes and she picked up a sliver of glass. "I never thought I'd see my father's gift again… And you've destroyed it…" She turned her liquid eyes up at the prince, who immediately felt guilty for his rash actions. It was obvious the girl didn't have many nice things… Perhaps any.

"I will have the maker of the slippers found and a new match cast at once," Victor cajoled, his voice soft. "I will give you anything you desire. I've searched long and hard, following what everyone believed to be nothing more than a dream. But now that dream stands before me and I cannot let it go again. Please, come with me to the castle and be my bride. I will make every wish of your heart a reality."

The stepsisters and their mother watched the proceedings with slack jaws, shock filling every inch of their forms. "I can think of a few things," the girl replied, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. She took the prince's offered hand and turned for the doorway, stopping for a moment to turn. She pulled her hand from Victor's and strode confidently up to her step mother. "This is for what you said before the ball!" she sneered, slapping her across the face. "And this is for all the times you treated others like trash, including the prince!" She wound up and slapped the woman again, turned heel, and exited the door, leaving even the two men frozen for a moment in shock.

Only a moment, though. The guard soon began to laugh and exited the house with the prince hot on his heels. "I like her. She's got a fiery spirit," the guard chuckled.

"I do too," Prince Victor replied. "She's a rare specimen indeed."

#AU #knock off fairy tale #familiar #he's a prince in canon too and you can fight me #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc victor #mlqc #love and producer li zeyan #love and producer victor #mlqc fanfic #evol x love #love and producer #mlqc victor fanfic #mr love queen's choice

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thesoulspulse · 2 years

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Danny Phantom Randomness (Vlad’s Reversal of Fortune)

Ok, I just had the most brilliant idea I had to share. Now, we know canon Vlad has a LOT of serious issues that only got worse when the new timeline started after Danny defeated Dan and was given a second chance by Clockwork. But what about Vlad? Well, in my fanfic “Nowhere To Run” I address a lot of them because I feel like it would take something really big for Vlad to admit to himself he still cares about Danny and doesn’t want to lose him so I had to come up with a way to redeem Vlad before he was too far gone imo...

Anyways, as far as this new idea goes I love the twist where through some sort of cunning reality manipulation the Current Vlad ends up in Future Vlad’s body and vice versa. This could be amazing for some character development because one, the more selfish Vlad has to get used to his mortality again as well as see the aftermath of a disaster he caused on a global scale when he created Dan. He has to live in a world that was destroyed by Dan because Vlad’s the one who twisted him into an uncaring monster after Danny lost everything and everyone he loved. It’s like Vlad has to see exactly what could have happened if he continued on this selfish path that corrupts the only person he had left to care about since Maddie no longer existed in this world.

As for Future Vlad, its more like a miracle because for one thing he can walk properly again without a limp and can finally make things right before it’s too late. Admittedly this part is a bit inspired by the Doppelgänger comic just because I also like to think of a Vlad who has suffered a lot of loss too and was finally humbled enough to admit he did a lot of bad things in his life. That’s why, rather than get greedy and slip back into old habits now that he had his powers back, the first thing Future Vlad does is track down Danny.

And then Vlad sees him, the same little badger he used to admire and want for his son smiling confidently while slinging clever insults at his enemies. Vlad didn’t realize just how much he missed that. Missed seeing the real Danny that used to annoy him to no end with his goodie-two-shoe ways instead of the kind of ghost he became when he absorbed his ghost half and went mad with power.

Obviously Danny notices Vlad watching him and rolls his eyes, scoffing. “Ugh, not you again fruitloop. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

His eyes welling up with tears when he hears the real Danny’s voice, the voice of the kind, brave, naive boy Danny was before his world fell apart both figuratively and literally, Future Vlad teleports to Danny and suddenly wraps his arms around him in a trembling but gentle embrace. Danny is confused obviously, wondering what the heck is up with Vlad and deeply suspicious these are just crocodile tears, but then Future Vlad cradles the back of Danny’s neck and sobs.

“I’m so glad you’re still you, little badger. That means it’s...it’s not too late to make things right! Forgive me, Daniel. Forgive me for being such a fool...” Taking in a deep shaky breath Future Vlad continues. “You were right, all this time I should have been helping you instead of fighting you at every turn! If I had just taken better care of you and been the mentor you deserved, then you never would have become that monster. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault! I...don’t deserve to have my powers back or to see you again like this when you were still an innocent child and I-”

I’ll leave the rest to your imagination but as you can probably guess this is basically Future Vlad getting a second chance while the Current Vlad gets a reality check so to speak to hopefully scare him straight before he royally screws up that bad with Danny and creates a threat to the entire world that far surpasses him in every way. Feel free to borrow this idea for a fanfic or oneshot, I just had to get it out of my system before I forgot.

#danny phantom #danny phantom randomness #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #the ultimate enemy #future vlad #dan phantom #danny phantom headcanon #headcanon #randomness #just a thought #story ideas #story concept #character concept #thesoulspulse #thesoul'spulse #the souls pulse #the soul's pulse #reversal of fortune

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newtie-patootie-bootie · 3 years

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Masquerade (Chapter 1)

Summary: This is your third season and your aspirations on finding love are dwindling but news on Lady Whistledown’s society pages say that there is to be a foreign royal in attendance to the season. Could this royal dignitary be the one you’ve been waiting for, or could there be a mysterious stranger lurking in the shadows, waiting to pluck your heart for his?

Disclaimer: I do not own Bridgerton nor The Mandalorian- all rights go to the owners and creators of their separate stories.

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and minor blood and wounds- nothing too major. (I tell you, we’re getting into it, I promise!)

|| Please do not repost or plagiarise my work ||

If you’d like to read more of my works, please visit my Masterlist!

| Prologue | Chapter 2 |

Tags: @technicallykawaiisoul @call-me-soap

Din stormed down the hall of his newly acquired estate, red cape catching the air behind him from the force of his gait and the beskar armour he proudly wore, winked in the early morning sun.

His helmet was tucked under his arm, leaving his uncovered features twisted in an enraged scowl and his untamed curls bouncing freely with his violent gait as he darted for the double doors that would lead him to the dining hall where his company would be breaking their fast.

The place in which he resided in had been bought once he had solidified the trade agreements with the Queen of England, the residence too lavish for his liking. It was more suited to Greef Karga’s own extravagant tastes, the man was his financial advisor but sometimes Din found himself lamenting in agreeing to bring the older gentleman into his court.

The house was dripping in the deepest red materials and gold accoutrement to accompany the ridiculously flamboyant furnishings Greef had purchased with the Crown’s treasury. It was a wholly unnecessary investment as Din had expressed his distaste for the country and its many crippling social demands and their tunnelled, biased view on the rest of the world around them.

When he had heard from the month’s financial statement and use of the treasury account that the properties Greef had purchased on behalf of his Majesty rivalled the livestock towns in their homeland, Din was furious but unable to do much of anything but issue Karga with a stern warning.

Karga made good on his promise to cease his incessant and improper spending habits but it seems Din was a little too late on that front.

Din growled, baring his teeth as he pushed the double doors open with one hand, dark eyes searching the table as his two Mandalorian guards, Sofir and Tatya- unhelmed, stood immediately and pressed their fists to their cuirasses. Both were young, perhaps too young to be kings guard but Din noticed their skill and the pride they had in their country. He chose them over the more experienced Mandalorian’s and he never regretted it.

Their half-eaten plates were abandoned in their hurry to address their king. The large table, some would say was ornate. A fine piece of craftsmanship.

Din would call it gaudy- unnecessary for a man who needed little and survived longer than the most socially capable of people.

For a moment, Din’s reality swirled and he was faced with humble surroundings. A different life, a life he was happier leading. With an internal shake of his head, the unwanted memories faded and he was once again immersed in the riches he was steeped in.

Din would have been fine with a crate and two boxes for chairs, but he could no longer be that man.

“Manda’lor.” Sofir and Tatya greeted him, bowing their heads in respect.

Din nodded curtly and gestured for them to return to their meals as he turned his piercing gaze to the foot of the table, searching. “Where is General Vizsla?”

Sofir turned her blue eyes to her king and swallowed the portion of fruit almost nervously, “I caught sight of him in the training room, perfecting his strikes.”

Din almost snarled his gratitude before whirling back out of the dining room with renewed vigour.

Long legs took him hurtling down the winding halls of his estate before he twisted the ornate knob and pushed the door open, revealing the training room in which Din, at the time of assembling each piece of equipment, was looking forward to utilizing at some point in between the droning events and simpering debutants and their aggravating mothers.

Even though he may not be what he formerly was, it did not mean he couldn’t keep his skills as sharp as the blade he wore on his back. Amongst the different equipment was a large ring raised off the ground, perfect for sparring.

And in the middle of the fighting ring was Paz, unhelmed and unclothed from the waist-up. Thick, corded arms jabbed at the air, testing his speed against the invisible foe he opposed. Sweat dripped from the soaked blonde strands of hair that hung over his forehead, blue eyes stony and focussed.

“You had no grounds nor merit to justify your blatant disregard of my orders, Paz!” Din’s voice boomed across the large expanse of the room.

Paz straightened, rolling his shoulders back as he turned to face his king, chest heaving with his laboured breath, “your plan to attend the ball unhelmed and unguarded was foolish at best, attempting to gain information on the most genuine of willing applicants completely unnoticed as you once used to did not go well, did it, Manda’lor? I saw you frolicking with that Duke’s daughter.”

Din remained eerily silent as he set his helmet down, the beskar rang out and he unclipped his cape and quietly folded it beside the helmet before sliding off his gloves and tossed them atop the cape. Paz watched as his king methodically removed piece after piece of his armour without a word- remaining silent as he peeled the layers of clothing from his upper half to mirror Paz’s own state of undress. Each garment was placed atop the armour, removed as not to soil the fabrics with sweat or blood.

Din’s body was not burly, nor could he hope to match Paz’s unique size but the fine definition of his upper arms and broad shoulders that were attributed to the years of dedication to his craft. His stomach was soft, not sharp and contoured like his general’s but Paz knew better than to underestimate his king and his smaller stature only attributed to his keen dexterity.

Dark, incensed eyes never left Paz’s and Din noticed the glimmer of uncertainty in the bluest part of his eyes but quickly covered it with the same stony indifference Din had been acquainted with all his life as he entered the ring smoothly.

Sofir and Tatya came barrelling through the open doorway, unwilling to overlook such a tussle from two of the most talented fighters in Mandalore.

They remained near the entrance, not wishing to overstep their welcome to watch their king and their General oppose each other in the fighting ring. “You’re lucky I do not have you punished for wearing another’s armour, least of all-” Paz was unprepared for the viper-like strike as Din’s fist shot from its dormant place by his thigh, snapping fiercely into Paz’s jaw, “-mine.”

The two guards watched, riveted by the raw display of power demonstrated by their leader.

Din Djarin was not a man easily intimidated by one’s size or power as one would be by Paz’s physical stature, but they both knew that Paz would not back down from a challenge either- not even from his king, “do you realise the precarious position you have put me in?! The young Dalton girl believes the Manda’lor and Din Djarin are separate entities!”

“You are no longer who you used to be.” Paz argued back, swinging his fist viciously and aimed right for Din’s nose but the latter was quicker and ducked from would-be blow, “your freedoms are limited as is your time to find a suitable partner in which to make your queen and rule by your side.”

“If I dare reveal myself now as the foreign ruler who she is so apprehensive of,” Paz swung again with a loud grunt and Din took his moment, ducking once more but the larger man caught on to his intent and lifted his knee, slamming it directly into the king’s stomach. The younger man rattled out a wheezing groan, stumbling back as his arms curled around his belly but Paz wasn’t finished and connected a quick blow to Din’s cheek- sending his king reeling to the floor.

“Continue, Manda’lor.” Paz mocked as Din slowly began to peel himself off the ground, curls tumbling around his head as he shook the fog beginning to blanket his thoughts

“Her trust will be betrayed as will her feelings if I choose to pursue her.” His voice was strained as he pointed at Paz, “you made the Manda’lor’s interest abundantly clear last night at the fete!” Din grunted as he straightened up, shaking off the ache in his stomach and spat out the blood filling his mouth from the cut inside his cheek, painting the scuffed flooring red. He shoved his reddening hand into the pocket of his pants and pulled out the crumpled Lady Whistledown and tossed it away as if it disgusted him, the sheet bounced on floor of the ring, rolling unevenly before it stopping directly in front of Paz’s feet.

Paz made to grab his opponent but Din twisted out of the way with ease, snapping another blow to the blonde man’s jaw. The general growled in frustration, “that scandal sheet has taken London by storm, we could not have our leader not make an appearance when he was reported to do so.” The two engaged in close combat, blocking and striking as they were taught in their tribe. “The speculation alone could ruin us and future potential alliances!” Paz rebutted, digging his fingers into Din’s wrist and tugged him forward as he screwed his dormant hand into a fist, “I did what was best for the Manda’lor’s image.”

Din dropped to his knees, narrowly avoiding Paz’s devastating strike and quickly regained his footing. Ignoring the twinge in his knee joints, the brunette used the sweat beginning to bloom across his body and twisted out of Paz’s hold before delivering harsh blows across Paz’s face- not necessarily aiming anymore. “I care not for any reporter’s musings, no matter how popular it may be!”

“Din Djarin may not, but the Manda’lor must!” The blatant rage displayed on Din’s features morphed into surprise at Paz’s argument and the man in question to slowly extricate himself from his king’s hold. “Our country is in your hands; you must do what is best for it and our people. It’s not just about you anymore, vod.”

Din huffed a soft breath, nostrils flaring as he took a step back from Paz.

The anger that fuelled him slowly began to drain as apprehensive eyes turned to his tribe-mate and Paz began, “I will apologise for wearing your armour, but I will not seek your forgiveness for my actions. I do not regret it.” Din watched his brother as he straightened his back, sweat-slicked chest speckled with his own blood. Every muscle flexing and only made him seem that much more imposing, “the Manda’lor is our leader and as such, I will not allow you to squander such a title away for a life you are no longer able to lead.” Din remained silent, staring deep into Paz’s eyes before stepping away and took a deep breath before moving toward the turnbuckle to retrieve a towel and tended to the weeping wounds across his bruising knuckles, “what are you going to do?”

Din turned to look over his shoulder at Paz, “what I have to.” His voice sounded resigned, “Sofir, Tatya, call the carriage around the front, please. We are going to visit the Duke and Duchess of Wintere, the Lady Dalton is about to receive her first caller.” He ordered without looking away from his wounded knuckles.

“Right away, Your Majesty.” The two guards promptly exited the training room, the soft clinks of armour following them.

The noise of the guards slowly tapered off, silence filling the space between Din and Paz as the king continued to care for his split knuckles, dabbing the beading blood away.

“You’ve not lost your skill, vod.” The slight pride that tinged Paz’s tone tickled Din’s amusement and huffed a chuckle in response.

“Were you expecting my reflexes to have slowed due to my recent negligence?” Turning to face Paz, he tossed the soiled towel to the general who caught it with ease and folded the fabric to an unused square before dabbing at the beads of sweat upon his brow.

“I had begun to believe that your former talents to have atrophied under the strain of the monarchy’s heavy expectations.” Paz answered easily, smirking at Din’s less restrained laugh, “I see that I was mistaken.” Thick fingers gingerly grazed over the bruise beginning to develop along his jawline.

“Good.” Din teased before bending to slip beneath the ropes, grunting in pain as the blow Paz delivered into his stomach protested at the movement, “perhaps now you will understand why I was most invested in the furnishing of this room in particular.”

Paz followed Din as he picked up his discarded garments and armour and meticulously reapplied each piece with grace, “you are going to pursue the Dalton girl?”

“I am.” The levity in the Manda’lor’s tone dissipated with the return of the hard topic, busying himself with the task of redressing.

“I wish you luck in your endeavours, your Majesty.” Paz bowed to his king before taking his leave, grabbing his linen shirt on the way out and shrugging it on without breaking stride.

Din sighed, strapping the cuirass in place before picking up his helmet and turning it face up. He could see his own reflection in the opaque visor, the silver and gold inlay winked at him in the streaming beam of sunlight.

There was no way he could attempt to court you without insulting your intelligence, nor could he take back the Manda’lor’s interest that seemed to capture this rumourmonger had shared with London’s overly curious.

“Haar'chak!” Din hissed quietly, setting the helmet over his head and stomped out of the room, cape billowing behind him.

You slowly opened your eyes to the pattern lining the border of your bedroom ceiling- the blue floral molding stood out against the stark white backdrop and in the middle was a fabulous illustration of a white owl taking flight amongst the snow-tipped hellebores and tilting upward toward the dawning sun. The mural itself was to your mother’s tastes, curved into a circle and tapered brushstrokes to blend with the ceiling to create the illusion of the image to be unfinished.

It was beautiful.

The picture was a little hard to make out from the shroud of darkness your room was ensconced in, its true brilliance remaining uncaptured.

The curtains had yet to be drawn by your maid and you heaved a gentle sigh while turning your gaze away from the artwork, your eyes slowly took in the furnishings that reflected the same blue on white theme as the rest of your bedroom did.

Your bedroom reflected the wealth your family carried and the multiple homes spanning across England were just the very same- steeped in expensive furnishings and high-end materials to make each abode even more comely. Your family’s London home was smaller than the country estate you and your brother had grown up in but it was by no means modest.

Many a suitor that had entered these halls had remarked on how grand the residence was, their eyes shining with greed and their pretentious gifts were poisoned by their determination to win the heart of the Duke’s daughter.

As your mind was overridden with thoughts of extravagance and lush surroundings, the image of an iron clad warrior flashed before your eyes, anonymous, alluring and unsettling.

Soft fingers pressed into the impressive material of your bed coverings, twisting the opulent silk between your fingertips anxiously before one of your hands slipped from the creased fabric and passed over your eyes, swiping across your brow as you reviewed last night’s events and your stomach began to twist with nerves:

As soon as the Mandalorian king was announced, overzealous mamas pushed their overbearing daughters toward him in the energetic hopes that they would be considered the new queen he had been purported to be desperately seeking.

Lost amidst the wave of hysteria, you did not realise that your partner had slowly begun to pull away from you, “I did not think he would come. What do you make-” your sentence trailed off as you turned to converse with the mysterious lord you had just met, only to see that the space he occupied beside you was now empty, “my lord?” You twisted in place, your gaze scouring every inch of Lady Danbury’s lavish ballroom until you made out the soft crown of untamed curls striding out of the room completely unseen.

“Lord Djarin!” You called, hoping you could gain his attention over the grating squawks of women fawning over the new arrival and cursed silently when he did not acknowledge you as he turned the corner out of the ballroom, out of sight.

Dashing forward, you took hold of your skirts to not tread on the material and attempted to remain vigilant in avoiding the flock of debutants elbowing and pinching their way closer to the king. You operated with a wide berth as you scurried for the exit, ignoring your mother’s calls when you felt a gloved hand clasp yours- forcing you to let go of your dress and cease in your pursuit.

Turning, your skirts fluttered delicately and the words of your polite rejection to the obviously headstrong lord bubbled at your lips- only to remain silent when you saw the silver helm of the king staring down at you. “Your Majesty,” you whispered, shock froze your intentions and you slowly curtseyed out of respect.

“Lady Dalton.” He knew your name?

With your hand still in his, he helped you rise and turned his body to face you while completely disregarding the gaggle of women who now fell silent, glaring at you with burning envy at his special attention.

“I must confess I did not realise we were acquainted, your Highness.” Your arm was still in his hold, orange-tipped leather fingers tracing the delicate bones of your wrist and you fought the urge to pull away from such a bold action.

“We aren’t.” Blunt. Forceful. His words did little to calm the raging storm within you and you wanted nothing more than to pull away from his touch, not enjoying the coldness of his gloves, nor the anonymity that shrouded his being. Rather finding yourself wistfully wishing for the heat of another unfamiliar. An alluring lord that treated you with such care you’d never seen in any suitor beforehand.

“Well, in that case, how pray tell did you come by the knowledge of my name?” You retained your sense of propriety for propriety’s sake, your lips widening into an insincere smile that you had nurtured and cultivated over the seasons and separate events you had partaken in until you had mastered it.

It was a skill you used sparingly, mostly with unsavoury characters that had called on you with their ill intentions or their crass proposals.

“There was no shortage of envious musings in the town where your name was the topic in discussion. As for deducing you to be the wearer of such a fine name, it was rather easy,” you didn’t think it to be as trivial as he made it sound but remained silent as the Mandalorian king continued his deductions, “no one in this room fitted to such a moniker as a ‘winter blossom’ more than you.”

Your heart flipped in your chest and your fictitious simper cracked ever-so-slightly, “m-my Lord, I am flattered,” you curtseyed once again before raising your gaze to meet the blank stare of his opaque visor, “I would wish to commend on your armour, but I fear I may offend you with my lack of knowledge on the particular subject. So, in lieu of your warrior garb, I thank you for your service to your country.”

“I hope we meet again, Lady Dalton.” His gloved fingers slipped into your palm, his thumb gently curling over your dormant fingers, raising your hand to his helmet and gently rested it against the polished iron right over where his lips would reside were the armour removed.

Gasps rippled across the ballroom as he released your hand, the king nodded once before moving deeper into the room, flanked by his guards and the music began to play once again, tenuous and hesitant.

But, the sound of the sweet melodies flooding the room did nothing to drown out the wave of whispers that accompanied jealous eyes that were perpetually focused on you. You barely felt your mother’s hands on your shoulders before slipping down and kindly curling her arm around yours before leaning closer to whisper in your ear, “we will take our leave now. Leave your suitors wanting more, dearest.” Elaine gently urged you out of the ballroom- leaving the rest of the women to stew in their judgement.

Thomas and Ryder both followed you out, “I’m so proud of you, darling!” Your mother murmured excitedly and you could barely twitch your lips into a smile.

Your heart thundered in your chest and with your free hand, you clutched at the fine material of your bodice, swallowing nervously as you contemplated the fate of the season with the King of Mandalore chasing after you and a mysterious lord that became even more mysterious with every passing second-

-the sun shining down upon you ripped you from your reverie as Olivia pulled the curtains open with a chipper, “good morning, my Lady!”

You swallowed the primal groan that threatened to erupt from your throat as you lifted yourself up from the bed, the covers falling into your lap.

You sighed, running your hand down your rumpled bed-hair, “good morning, Olivia.”

Dragging yourself from under the covers, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and toed on your dainty pale blue slippers, “we’ll need a few more chairs in the drawing room I would think, my Lady.” You snapped your head up to meet a nearly vibrating Olivia’s gaze- only to see the offending scandal sheet clutched in her hands. Maintaining your composure, you held your hand out for the paper and Olivia handed it to you immediately. You mumbled a ‘thank you’ to her as you stood from the bed and walked to the vanity- taking your seat in front of the mirror as Olivia began to tend to your appearance and diligently style your hair, “your prospects this season seem rather remarkable, my Lady, I must say!”

You barely acknowledged her comment as you opened the sheet and read under the subheading:

‘The Warrior King Charmed by the Frosted Flower?

This bold writer would like report that it may be a very short season for our dear Lady Dalton, for she has caught the eye of the mysterious yet alluring king of Mandalore.

Following his jarring entrance into the Danbury Ball, the Mandalorian king set his sights on the beautiful Lady the moment he strode into the room to the call of his own title- a rather candid affair if I may be so bold to scribe.

It seems he was rather taken with our winter rose from before he laid eyes upon her, swayed by featureless letters printed on an ink-blotted page. An accomplishment that this columnist will take full responsibility for.

Lady Dalton will have her hands full this season, with mysterious kings and lords and many suitors of the ton, wishing for her hand.

Perhaps, the Diamond of the Season is not as Incomparable as previously titled. The Queen should seriously reconsider the moniker she gave so freely to the prettiest in the pool and notice that perhaps it is not only beauty that wins the hearts of men- perhaps it is a mixture of beauty, boldness and intelligence that only the Lady Dalton can express so effortlessly.

We all know how the Queen despises when she is wrong, do we not?

In other related news-’

You tucked the paper in your lap, resting your linked hands over it as to mask the words from your view. “Has my mother read it?” Your voice was small, barely audible but Olivia took no notice of the change and continued with her tasks.

“Yes, my Lady. Her Grace was the one to organise additional chairs in the drawing room.” Olivia affirmed and you sighed, drooping your head down and your chin touched your chest. Olivia tutted in friendly reproach before gently lifting your head with cool fingers to resume her work.

“Of course, she did.”

Your fingers dug into the pristine paper, crushing it in your hands as Olivia worked on your hair, “a glowing compliment from Lady Whistledown, don’t you think, my Lady? Your prospects on the mart surely should have reached the heavens itself with the interest of a king!”

“Oh, yes,” you hoarsely replied as your eyes found your own reflection in the mirror, unease clearly etched into the fine lines of your features and you swallowed gently, “a most pleasing tribute, indeed.”

There was a knock on the door and Olivia excused herself with a curtsey before bustling for the door, creaking it open as to keep her lady’s modesty. You heard Olivia and whoever had interrupted you speaking quietly- their hushed whispers filling the room yet unable to be deciphered. “Olivia, what is it?” You asked, looking through the mirror.

Olivia quietly closed the door, turning back to face you with wide, excited eyes, “oh, my lady! It’s so exciting!”

Your brows pulled together and you turned to properly catch her gaze, “Olivia?” You repeated, your arm resting over the support of the chair, waiting patiently for her to explain.

“The Mandalorian king is here, my lady!” You stood from your chair, your back ramrod straight and distress pulled at the knot forming in your belly, “he’s here to promenade with you.”

“P-promenade? Now?” You hushed, shock punching the breath from your lungs, “i-isn’t that a rather early development, we only met the night previous!”

“You must have made quite the impression, my Lady!” Olivia exhibited the excitement you should have been feeling as she helped your numb form back into the chair as she resumed her work on your hair with a renewed vigour.

The entire time, all you could think about was soft brown eyes, tufts of dark curls winking with blonde and red accents in the artificial light of the chandelier and large hands searing the skin of your back as he held you to his strong, broad chest to keep you from falling.

Din Djarin.

“Haar’chak!” - “Damn it!”

"Vod." - "brother/sister or comrade/friend."

#Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #bridgerton au #the mandalorian x bridgerton #newtie-writes #newtie-patootie #newties-masterlist #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal

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thebadboyfanclub · 4 years

Text

I Got You (Napoleon x Reader)

This is the third time i’m trying to post this fucking thing, tumblr won’t let the posts I do from my laptop under search results but they will show posts I do from my phone. Anyways, enjoy!

“This better be worth it Waverly”

“Ohhh (y/n) dear trust me it will. Let me introduce you to your new colleagues”

As she walked in the room with one big desk and a few chairs, three of them were occupied by two men and one woman, probably in her 20s. Her eyes however focused on one particular man.... The man that was one of the reasons you thrived in the illegal field.

“This is Miss Gaby Teller, the most important person in this case, next to her is mister Illya Kuryakin, her supposed fiance and-”

“Napoleon Solo. The thief”

She bitterly interrupted Waverly, he was of course aware of (y/n)’s past with Napoleon, it was one of the reasons he requested her to join this case, keeping from her that piece of information of course.

“(y/f/n), you’ve grown up”

“you got old”

“Right, now that everyone knows each other, (y/n) please take a seat and i’ll explain the plan”

As she took a seat from the other side of the table, directly in front of Napoleon, she tried to focus on Waverly and ignore Napoleons intense stare that almost drilled a hole on the side of her head.

“Ok, so since Illya is here to be the love interest for Gaby and Napoleon is here to just get some Italian legs in the air, what am I here for?”

“You dear (y/l/n), you will be portraying miss Brigitte Richard, an heir to the Richard well know Cigar, he is a close friend of mine and graciously agreed to take his daughters name”

“Won’t they know what his daughter looks like?”

“His daughter has been kept away from the public eye and she had transferred in Britain during high school, that’s also where she went to College and recently decided to stay there. I will give you a file of hers to study. Your goal is to get close to Victoria vinciguerra during the event, maybe even seem interested in mister Solo, of course for show, nothing more”

“Of course, everything is only just for show when it has to do with Napoleon”

(Y/n) was dressed in her best attire, her long red dress that hugged her waist so beautifully, of course some silver diamond earrings on her ears and her hair up in a perfect updo, her heels were comfortable at least, but if she had to run the dress would not hold for long until it gives a show to anyone around her, she prays that it didn’t have to happen, or she would be royally screwed,

“Miss Richard , your father was right you do have your mothers eyes”

What a fool, she thought, this is who she was hiding from? a woman that complimented her for the resemblance in her eyes.... she wasn’t even close to being related to this people. However, on the outside, she smiled brightly at the tall blonde lady

“Thank you so much, god rest her soul she at least she was generous enough to pass them down to me, my dads brown eyes are great but a tad bit boring don’t you think?”

The blonde gave a tight lip smile to her comment. Of course, if she knew that her real parent had never seen this type of luxury, the lady wouldn’t even spare a glance.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, Victoria Vinciguerra”

“Brigitte Richard, my father made sure to keep me away from all of... this, he wanted his kids to be humble”

“I’m really sorry for your brother”

“It’s alright, I miss him but... c’est la vie”

(Y/n) had almost swallowed the file Waverly had given her, she even looked into the cigar company, just in case anyone asked questions. As the two ladies kept talking, she started hearing commotion,she turned her head towards the direction it was coming from and saw one familiar man falling to the ground.

“What is going on over there?”

“Excuse me dear”

Victoria started walking towards him and of course (y/n) followed. When they finally reached the crowd that was already forming a circle around him, there he was fanning himself the invitation dramatically, in true Napoleon fashion. (Y/n) kissed her teeth in annoyance, he was supposed to discreetly blend in, not cause a god damn ruckus the minute he walks in.

“Thank you, Thank you”

“I wonder what they do to people without invitations”

That is when she decided to take actions. She weaseled her way out of the crowd and kneeled in front of him to his level, offering her glass of champagne to him.

“Are you alright sir?”

“Yes, thank you very much Darling”

“I’m Victoria Vinciguerra, she is (y/f/n). I do believe an apology is in order. I’ll take it from here”

You helped him get up on his feet and took two steps to lean in and talked to her.

“of course miss Vinciguerra... next one is mine”

She giggled as she walked away in triumphant. To be frank the rest of your job was to keep an eye on these two, yet she could still say she completed the most important part.What she didn’t expect was the growing fire in the pit of her stomach that was directed to Victoria, looking at her talking to Napoleon so nonchalantly made her teeth hurt and her breasts ached with rage.

“It’s such a lovely day to be so pouty miss”

“Well sir... there is nothing really here for me to smile about”

“Not even me?”

“I think I am better off being the reason for someone to smile”

“Roberto Russo, charmed”

“Brigitte Richard”

Roberto was a handsome man, tall, light brown hair, hazel eyes, sharp jawline, full lips and extremely well dressed, no doubt he knew his way around women and money. What a better distraction and cover up than him?

What (y/n) had not calculated was Napoleon picking up at her “strategic” flirt and filling like punching the hell out of this pretentious little Italian boy that grew up spending daddy’s money. He restrained himself from walking over to her and taking her hand, guiding her away from everyone, keeping her all to herself.

“I saw you were talking to my aunt”

“Oh you are related to Victoria?”

“Yes, my dad is her brother. I actually haven’t spoken to her today, come with me?”

“How could I ever refuse?”

As he offered his arm she smiled and linked hers with his, walking over with her head held high as they got close to Napoleon and Victoria

“My dearest Roberto, how are you?”

she kissed her nephew at both of his cheeks and yet no smile was shown. She really was cold, Roberto however smiled brightly, feeling excited to show his knew “catch” to his aunt.

“I’m doing well... who might he be?”

“Jack Devinsky, Nice to meet you”

Roberto looked at Napoleon up and down, almost well not almost... judging him harshly. Napoleons sure looked rich but there were levels to how rich you were, especially when men judged one another.

“Roberto Russo. Well... aunt Victoria may I occupy you for a minute”

“Of course, anything for my nephew”

“It will only take a minute dear”

“I am counting”

She replied at him, he took her hand and placed a gentle kiss as he stared directly in her eyes, winking at her as she left her with Napoleon. They stood there in awkward silence for a few moments, they haven’t really spoken since the case started, (y/n) made sure to avoid him.

“You look stunning if that isn’t obvious”

“Thanks”

She said dryly. She barely even looked him in the eye, all she could see was that damn night, the night she lost everything, the night her heart shuttered, the night he showed her all the cruelty of the world he always talked about.

“You are mad at me”

“Do you blame me?”

“No, it still upsets me though”

“That sounds like a personal issue to me”

The event was a success. which meant (y/n) could finally relax and wear her pajamas, pour a drink for herself and lounge in the couch her room had. She still wore his necklace, the gold star necklace he had bought her way back when... she took the charm in her hands and felt the cold metal.

How much more could she take with him around? it took her so much time to heal and now here he was again, scratching the wounds she had closed up all by herself. She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard a knock at her door. She got up to answer it and was met with the man of the hour.

“Napoleon”

“May I come in?”

She sighed before stepping aside to let him in. Even when all she wanted was to punch him in the face, her heart took over her and let him walk into her room and her life once again, even when she had swore to take revenge when she saw him again.

“What do you want?”

“To talk”

“About what?”

She was well aware she was snapping at him, could you blame her? He had swore to protect her, help her when she had nothing and no one, taught her everything and then one night she came home to find all his belongings missing... and that damn letter tore her apart, she didn’t sleep for days, she waited for him to return for months and yet he never did.

“(Y/n) I know-”

“YOU KNOW NOTHING

”her voice booming through the entire room, it was like a glass of emotions was overflowing, threating to spill and make a mess. He saw the pain in her face, her lower lips trembling, her hands forming fists... still what caught his eye was one thing, the necklace. She was wearing his necklace, after all these years she didn’t throw it away. He took a breath through his nose before continuing.

“(y/n) you have every right to be upset-”

“Damn right I do”

“Will you just listen?”

“listen to what Napoleon?! What?!What?!What?!”

Next thing that was heard was her glass smashing at the wall, Vodka dripping down and small pieces of glass going everywhere. Napoleon was shocked, he should have known this wouldn’t be easy, he had wanted to reach out to her over the years, he had even went through with finding her, yet every time he chickened out last minute and walked away from it. Now, here she was in pain, yelling and smashing things... she had become his enemy

“I’m sorry”

“You are sorry? Sorry? for what Napoleon? for leaving me? for doing it in such cruel way? for lying to me?”

“I never lied”

“You swore to me that you loved me, that you... cared”

There it was, tears. She couldn’t even control it, as her voice cracked and the waterfalls started, she didn’t also want to cover them, she wanted him to see what he had done... to hell with being the bigger person. He wanted to hug her, comfort her, make her feel loved but now all he could do was to try and reason with her.

“I had to leave”

“Why? What could possibly be the reason... money? paintings? women?”

“You know I would never cheat on you”

“Oh yeah, cause leaving our house in the middle of the night is so much better”

She tried wipe away her tears, silence falling between them once again. As a way to calm and hide her emotions, she kneeled and started picking up pieces of glass, her back turned to him. Napoleon went to her side and even when he wanted to pick her up and kiss her, he controlled his desire

“(Y/n) stop, you’ll cut yourself”

“I’m fine Napoleon”

“(Y/n) the maid can do it”

“I said I’m- FUCK”

a piece of sharp glass had cut her as she accidentally gripped it a bit too hard. Napoleon saw the blood and got up immediately to find some tissues, while (y/n) got on her feet and brought her hand close to her chest, closing it to a fist as a way to stop the pain. When Napoleon approached she turned her back once again

“I said I’m fine”

“(Y/n) you are bleeding, let me care for you”

She had started crying again. As she turned around and opened her hand to him Napoleon gently placed the tissues on the wound, dabbing away the blood carefully.

“Why did you leave?”

“I thought I was protecting you, a way to keep you away from all of the things I was doing”

“Yet... here we are”

He looked up at her. Her lower lip was in between her teeth, tears freshly running down, her beautiful eyes were now red and puffy, her nose was running and he still found her heavenly.

“You kept the necklace”

“I tried throwing it away, or ponding it... I couldn’t find the courage... it’s too pretty”

“I tried coming back to you... multiple times”

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“I don’t know, I just didn’t”

She finally kept eye contact with him, getting lost once again in those ocean blue eyes, the eyes she looked at when they were laying naked on their bed, the eyes that looked at her when she woke up. With his one hand Napoleon slowly reached over and wiped a few tears with his thumb

“You are too pretty to cry over me”

“I missed you Napoleon”

She whispered looking down on the ground in embarrassment. She was everything he ever wanted, a woman that loved him and had his back and he tossed that all away, his intentions were pure yet the damage was gigantic. He hesitated for a minute, before taking her in his arms for a hug, her head nuzzling on his neck as she held on to him for the first time in what felt like centuries. Napoleon kissed her head, smelling her shampoo that was always the same, lavender.

“I missed you too munchkin”

She giggled at the nickname. Napoleon had met her when she was struggling to survive, she was this delicate little thing that looked everyone with kind eyes, yet once he got to know her he saw the passion, the fire, the potential she had to become something great, he didn’t want all that potential to go on illegal things that could possibly get her in jail or worse kill her. So from the beginning of the relationship he called her munchkin.

“Will we be alright?”

“I got you munchkin, I got you”

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averymerrymoth · 3 years

Note

I love your fallout OC!! How did she flee Europe and how do you think the conditions are in fallout! Europe, do you think they’re better than the US, worse or about the same?

Oh jeez , dude, I’m so sorry for taking literal weeks to respond! I’ve been offline for a bit!

Thank you very much! I don’t have a lot to elaborate on, but I’ve definitely spent a bit of time trying to come up with some basics for Fallout!Europe. In my rough little timeline I’ve been making up it took her roughly 6 months via several boats to get from Europe to mainland North America. She’s mostly a charisma/agility build so it’s not hard for her to talk her way onto a ship or sneak on if she needs to. She started in Norway and got stuck in Scotland for a couple weeks before convincing a ship headed for whatever Fallout’s version of Newfoundland is to take her. Then she had to stowaway on a ship transporting trades to New Brunswick to get off the island. Then it took her 2 months to slowly waddle her anxious little ass down to Boston.

There’s so little info on Fallout!Europe besides pre-war details, and I get a bit nervous trying to elaborate on it in my own opinion. I’m a bit scared of Fallout lore goblins coming out of the cracks in an unnecessary fit of rage to say a detail is wrong because a 6 word footnote made in a 2013 game magazine vaguely says otherwise. It's rough keeping all the info straight sometimes! @ o @

For the most part the only established lore is that the European Commonwealth was suffering before the Great War because of their Resources War with the Middle East. So it’s assumed it was rough being over there to begin with. However, one of the dev’s for FO3 said in regards to Allistair Tenpenny who’s a British immigrant: "Tenpenny came to the Capital Wasteland from Great Britain to seek his fortune, so that alone tells you that the U.K. was also hit in the war. And if he came to U.S. to succeed, that says a lot about how screwed up Europe must be. So we just allude, a little bit, to the state of the rest of the world. We like to leave a lot to the players' imaginations, and somebody like Tenpenny serves as a catalyst for those thoughts."

So that makes me feel a little better about having to make a bunch of stuff up. I don’t see why it wouldn’t be at least a little similar to the US. Both continents have their own set of politicians and I’m sure Europe’s were just as shady as the US’s. Maybe a bit more classist with surviving monarchs/royals and their descendants, given if there were still any by the time the bombs fell. If anyone could have afforded to build a decent shelter it’s them. Wouldn’t put it past them to take from the already scarce resources and horde it for themselves. I did have a small headcanon that made me laugh a bit which is that it’s not actually THAT bad overseas, but that the upper class that’s developed their own territories to keep out the filthy peasants is very hoity toity about who can join them. I think it’d be funny if Tenpenny was never taken seriously by the other rich folks and had to leave just to find somewhere he could establish a name for himself. I just don’t like him and want him humbled lmao.

I also figure they’d have their own set of beasts evolved from radiation running around. As to what exactly those would be I have no idea. Maybe just a shit ton of giant wolves. If it’s like 76 there could be cryptic like beasts. Banshee-like feral ghouls that scream to stun their enemies would be really interesting.

I wrote my OC to use blades and melee as a primary weapon because guns/ammo were slightly harder to come by in Europe, and more expensive to purchase from merchants. Same thing for decent food and clean water which she hordes out of fear of not being able to find when she needs it. She’s got little caches hidden all over the commonwealth lol.

I’d be interested in hearing about different takes or opinions though! Would most likely help me elaborate my own thoughts.

#asks

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years

Text

Love Is Not Forced ~ 20

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,900ish

Summary: Y/N spends some time in a village in Brooklyn, reminding her of times long past.

“She’s not coming, Bucky,” Steven fretted as he paced near the carriage. “I screwed up again. She wasn’t ready and I pushed her!” He ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t do anything right by her.”

“The Princess still has five minutes, punk,” Bucky responded, arms crossed as he watched his friend worry.

“Doesn’t matter. She won’t come. I screwed up, like I always do.”

“Have a little faith in her. Maybe she’s going to be late, just to keep you on your toes.”

“She already does that enough. But I definitely wouldn’t blame her for being late to prove some point.”

“I haven’t seen you this worried about trying to impress a girl since we were teenagers. It’s kind of entertaining to watch.”

“I’m so glad that my anxiety is for your entertainment.”

Bucky walked up to his friend, putting his hands on his shoulders to stop the King from pacing. “Stop worrying, Steve. Everything is going to be fine.”

“That’s what Nat said.”

“Well, I do learn from the best.”

“Am I interrupting something here?” Y/N’s voice broke them out of their conversation.

“Princess,” Steven tried not to sound too relieved, but it didn’t really work, “you came.”

“Yes,” she replied, coming closer. “I thought about how my Father would disapprove of not meeting some of your people. I met many of the people of Asgard and Wakanda, it would be rude of me to not give your people the same consideration.”

“Still, I’m glad to see you.”

“Your Highness,” Bucky bowed.

“Captain,” Y/N greeted curtly. “Will you be joining us today?”

“If that is okay with you, Princess.”

“It’s fine by me, but it also is not up to me.”

“You do have a right to say no, Y/N,” the King said.

“Do I?” Y/N asked, curious, turning to look at the King. She raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Do I have the right to say no?”

“Well, I—“

“Cause if I did, in fact, have the right to say no, Your Majesty. I wouldn’t be here right now. I probably wouldn’t have let my Father take my brother or I in. And I definitely wouldn’t be parading around trying to impress men.”

“Your Highness, I didn’t mean—“

“You never mean to do anything, do you?” Y/N stared the King down for a few long seconds before continuing, “Now, are we going? Or am I going back to my room for the day?”

Y/N and Steven didn’t speak the whole way to the village. Y/N kept her focus on everything passing outside of the window, while Steven tried to do the same. But kept stealing glances at the Princess. The village the two royals stopped to visit, reminded Y/N a lot of the village she lived in prior to becoming a Princess. Children laughed as the ran around, playing. Men were working together to plant crops and build houses. The women sat together as the sewed and talked, or they were gathering the crops with each other.

As the carriage pulled up, the people ran to greet it. Bucky and the other guards that joined them, one being Pietro, kept them back so that the King and Princess could exit the carriage. The King exited one side and hurried over to the other to help the Princess out. Y/N accepted his offered hand, not wanting the people to question her actions towards their King.

Steven kept a hold of her hand as he introduced her to the crowd. The children quickly ran up to the two royals, which caught Y/N by surprise. The King bent down to greet them. He smiled as he talked with the children and listened to them speak. Y/N’s focus was pulled from the seen by a tug on her dress. She looked down to see a little girl, she couldn’t be more than seven years old, looking up at her.

“Hello,” Y/N greeted, bending down to the little girl. “My name is Y/N. What’s your name?”

“Cassandra,” the girl answered nervously. “But everyone calls me Cassie.”

“Both are very pretty names.”

“Your Highness, I am so sorry,” a dark haired woman came running up. She pulled the child towards her by the shoulders. “I told her to stay by me and to not disturb you.”

“She’s completely fine.” Y/N stood up. “I was just telling Cassie, here, how pretty her names are. Are you her mother?”

“Yes, my name is Hope.”

“Hope,” the King greeted, coming over. “It’s so good to see you and Cassie.” Steven bent down to talk to the girl. “How’ve you been Cassie? Not causing too much trouble I hope.”

“No,” Cassie giggled. “No one could cause as much trouble as my father.”

“You got that right.” Steven ruffled her hair as he stood up. “Where is Scott, anyway?”

“He said he had to finish something before he could came greet you,” Hope responded.

“Why don’t we go get him then?” Steven looked down at Cassie. “I’ll race you.”

“Okay,” Cassie grinned, already sprinting off.

“Hey! That’s not far!” Steven laughed, running after her.

“It seems that you and your family know the King quite well,” Y/N stated as her and Hope followed the two runners.

“Yes,” Hope replied. “My husband, Scott, is a friend of His Majesty. He also sometimes works for him.”

“Sometimes?”

“Scott enjoys being home more than he enjoys living at the castle and seeing us once a week.”

“What does your husband do?”

“He helps create and build new weapons. And when Captain Barnes or Lord Wilson need sometime off, Scott fills in for him.”

“If your family is high up in the King’s court, why live in this little village?”

“It’s home. We use what we need and then we help the other members of the village.”

“That’s so… that’s so kind of you.”

It amazed Y/N at how kind and humble these people were. Yet it reminded her of how she grew up. Her whole village worked together to survive. They didn’t need anyone but each other.

“Scott,” the King said as he exited the house, arm around the smaller man, “this is Y/N Stark, the Princess of Alexandria.”

“Your Highness,” Scott bowed, giving her hand a kiss. “It’s so good to meet you.”

“Likewise. Your wife was just telling me what you do to help the village. That’s so very kind of you.”

“It’s nothing. We are a family here in Brooklyn. Helping each other is what we do.”

“And your daughter—“

“That little ball of energy cheated and got here before I did,” Steve grumbled, jokingly.

“Yes, she does keep us on our toes,” Scott laughed.

“I don’t know where she could have got that from,” Hope mumbled next to the Princess.

Y/N spent the day getting to know the people of the village and watching Steven interact with all the people. She especially enjoyed watching Steven with the children. He seemed to be so interested in all the stories they told him and he was so willing to do what they asked him. It was heart-warming. She played with her necklace nervously as she watched one of the interactions. When Thor and Loki had taken her around Asgard, she had seen Thor interact with a few children but not Loki. Did he like children? Did he even ever what children? Or was King Steven just putting on a show to impress the Princess?

When it was time for the royals to head back to the castle, Y/N promised her new found friends that she would return. She let the King help her into the carriage and they both waved as they rode away. A look of longing and sadness overcame her, the further they got from the village. And the King noticed.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Steven worried. “Did you not enjoy the day?”

“I did…” she answered quietly. “It’s just… it reminded me of my life before. Before all of this.” She gestured around the carriage. “A simpler time. A time with—“

“With more freedom.”

“Yes… I am not saying that I am not grateful for the life that my Father has provided my brother and I. I just wish that sometimes things could be like that again.”

“If you wish to spend more time in the village while you’re here, you are welcome to.”

“Really?”

“You are welcome to do as you please, Princess. As I keep saying.”

“How am I suppose to split the rest of the week up between the beach and the village? It is rude to not spend time with the host.”

“How about you spend afternoons in the village, and evenings on the beach? With me?”

Y/N smiled at the King. “That could work. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Enough of that already, Y/N. If I can call you by your first name, then you can call me by mine.”

“I’ve heard your friends call you, Steve and Steven. Which do you prefer?”

“Which ever you wish.”

The King looked at her with that look she had seen on the ship. It made her heart flutter and sink at the same time.

Upon getting ready for bed, Wanda brought in a letter from Loki.

Y/N,

The longer than I am away from you, the more my heart aches. I don’t think that I can take the separation from you much longer. The preparations for your departure are nearly complete. I’m just waiting for you to tell me that you are ready. Please respond and let me know soon.

Forever Yours,

Loki

Y/N was torn. She wanted to run away with Loki as soon as possible. But she also wanted to stay in Brooklyn a little longer. To spend more time in the village and on the beach. She also wanted to say goodbye to her family. She couldn’t just disappear on them, it wasn’t right. So the Princess began writing a letter back to her love.

Loki,

I am sorry that I am causing you pain. Trust me, when I say that our separation has not been easy on me either. I miss you, every moment of every day.

I am writing to apologize that I will have to push our plans back. I have chosen to stay in Brooklyn a little longer than originally planned. I went to this village today, and it reminded me so much of my life before I became a Princess. I cannot leave without spending more time there. Then there is also the beach. With the sand beneath my feet and the water covering them, I feel like I can finally breathe. It’s hard to explain if you have not experienced it.

I also cannot leave without saying goodbye to my family. It would break them if I left without one last hug.

Again, I am sorry to do this to you. To us. But I cannot leave yet. Please understand that I am not doing this as a punishment. For it hurts me also to be kept apart from you.

My Heart Is With You,

Y/N

next chapter >

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ineedglasses · 4 years

Text

VK Character Analysis: Rido Kuran

Rido is a complete, messed up, SOB, but I still like him as a character because he is simply such a fun villain. If I were to place him in that alignment chart thing, he would be “chaotic evil” without a doubt.

While he is generally seen as a creepy, sister-obsessed, maniac, I really believe he was different earlier in his life.

This analysis is based off the Rido we see in the manga and the light novel, NOT the Rido in the anime, since the anime was trash and deviated from the manga when it came to his arc. Anyway, at the start of the post, I will go over the info from the light novel and manga, next will be my headcanons of him as a young man and at the end is my interpretation of him when he was crazy, as we see him in the original series.

XXX

The Deranged Love story in the Fleeting Dreams light novel talks about Rido’s obsession with Juri and gives some info on their past. However, when compared to the original VK series there are several points that don’t add up, and some parts of the light novel simply make no sense.

First, Both VKM and the light novel mention that Rido killed his parents and presumably devoured them to take their powers. That makes sense, it seems like something he would do. What doesn’t make sense to me is the timeline. When exactly did he kill his parents?

All the light novel tells us is that he killed them immediately after they engaged him to Shizuka. Is this around the time Haruka and Juri got married? I always assumed Haruka and Juri have been married for a while, like at least 1000 years. If this is the case, within that time period, how can they not notice that their parents are dead and that their brother killed them?

Or does their murder occur closer to the time Juri got pregnant? But this doesn’t make sense either because Rido referred to Shizuka as a “small child” when he killed his parents, and by the time Juri was pregnant with Yuki’s real brother, Shizuka was probably already at least one or two thousand years old. Unless Shizuka is much younger than we thought? So when exactly Rido kills his parents is quite the mystery.

Secondly, How did he kill his parents?

I assume the older a pureblood, the more powerful they are. So how can he, by himself, kill his parents, both of whom are older and more powerful than him? I doubt his dad was a weakling because as former king of vampires, he should be quite powerful. In the light novel, it seems his parents were already wary of him and wanted to keep him away from Juri. Thus they wouldn’t completely let their guard down around him. And its not like Rido could carry around a hunter sword with him without it being noticed. Even if he was carrying something small like a dagger, his parents should have been able to overwhelm him in a fight since its 2 vs 1.

Kaname has commented that “purebloods have equal powers, so they would only exhaust each other in battle”; basically it is hard to kill another pureblood unless you have some advantage (e.g. Shizuka being already wounded by Zero’s hunter gun). So the only logical way Rido can kill his parents is if he catches them off guard, such as when they are taking a centuries long slumber in the family mausoleum, basically doing what Sara did to Hanadagi.

Thirdly, another point that makes no sense is that Rido in the light novel says:

“My parents had taken my precious Juri far away from me and made it so that we could never meet.”

How exactly did his parents take Juri away and stop them from ever meeting again? Send her abroad with no intention of ever letting her return? And yet the manga clearly contradicts that, because Rido is still in contact with Haruka and Juri, he was there to see their firstborn baby!

Fourthly, this is a small detail that has always irked me: In the manga, when Yuki’s brother peed on him, Rido mentions that he used to change his siblings’ diapers when they were babies.

However the light novel kind of contradicts that, because young Rido upon being called in to meet his baby sister says: “I will confess that newborns seemed very uninteresting to me at that time”; does this sound like an older brother that would change his younger siblings’ diapers? It sounds like a guy who would leave baby care to the nannies and stay far away from soiled diapers.

Finally, we get to the biggest illogical point in the light novel: Rido was a psychopath that just randomly developed an obsession upon seeing the newborn Juri.

“ It was in that moment – somewhere in the depths of my being – something abruptly flared to life. […] I was overwhelmed by the urge to devour her.”

No normal person just out of the blue feels the urge to consume a baby, only crazy people do. The rest of the light novel story continues depicting Rido as a psychopath. Their parents notice there is something wrong with their son because the mom slaps Rido and starts to keep him away from Juri. Adding on to this portrayal of him as batshit crazy, after he (somehow) kills his parents, he says the following:

“That’s what you get for getting in my way, you naughty things…”

LOL, who in their right mind would call their parents “naughty things”?

My issue is this: I highly doubt Rido was crazy from the start, because it would make no sense. If Rido was crazy, how the hell could Juri and Haruka not have noticed for over 3000 years?! Even the dumbest person would get a clue that their brother was crazy after just 30 years, much less 3000 years. They trusted him enough to let him hold their baby, so they clearly believed Rido was not crazy. There is no way that Juri and Haruka were that stupid and blind. Thus, I doubt that Rido was crazy at the start of his life. So, this aspect of the light novel is just total BS to me.

IF Rido really was crazy from the start, then his mom and dad were bad parents. Yes, it makes sense to keep Juri away from Rido if he really were a psychopath, but their other actions were just extremely irresponsible and selfish. If you know your son is dangerous, maybe you should address this issue properly. After all, he is a pureblood and if you don’t deal with the problem, there will be huge repercussions for everyone given the destructive powers of purebloods.

But instead of taking their son to see a mental health professional like any decent parent would do, Papa and Mama Kuran decided to solve the problem by engaging him off to a “tiny child”. I’m no parenting expert, but I’m sure if your son has mental issues, you definitely should NOT marry him off to any girl. Even if they didn’t get him some help, they should have at least locked him up like Shizuka to ensure he didn’t harm anyone... but they just let him roam free.

If this is the extent of their problem-solving ability, then it’s for the best that they ended the monarchy because they must have been cruddy rulers. But who knows, I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt, maybe they believed the “tiny child” they chose for him has a PhD in psychology and can provide their son with the help he clearly needs. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway, I consider the light novel to be only pseudo-canon since it was inspired by Hino but written by someone else (Ayuna Fujisaka), so I will just ignore the parts that don’t make sense and keep the parts that do.

XXX

This following section is what I believe Rido to have been like when he was a (sane) young man, based on the info in the manga and the few bits that do make sense in the light novel.

Since Rido was the oldest son and born in a time when the Kurans were still the ruling family, he probably grew up with a lot of pressure and expectations as he was the crown prince. Given these conditions, he was most likely serious and hardworking, doing his best to live up to those expectations and preparing to be the next king (kinda like Eins in The Royal Tutor LOL).

He was also probably a bit older than Haruka and Juri (because according to the manga he has experience changing their diapers and taking care of them). And since he was probably busy with his princely duties, he did not spend a bunch of time with his siblings and thus Haruka and Juri were naturally closer to one another than Juri was to him. She probably saw him a respected older brother but not as reachable and easy to connect to as Haruka.

Rido was probably arrogant, possessive, and entitled even at the start (though at much milder levels than towards the end), which makes sense given his background. Not only was he a pureblood, but the crown prince too. And since he was prince, he probably had to deal with the dog-eat-dog world of politics from a young age, so that probably made him more cynical and darker than his siblings who had much less pressure and responsibility. It would almost be shocking if he was a humble and kind person instead.

Anyway, according to the custom of primogeniture, both the throne and Juri should have been his. Since it was tradition of the Kurans to marry their siblings, it only makes sense that as the oldest son and legitimate heir, he was the one that Juri should have married. Yet for whatever reason, their dad decided to end the monarchy, which must have been a huge blow to Rido who spent his whole life preparing to be the next king. He probably drove himself to despair questioning why and if there was something wrong with him that his father would pull such a move.

Then Rido probably got another big slap to the face: Juri choosing to marry Haruka instead of him, with his parents probably giving them their blessings. So not only has he lost the throne, he also lost the fiancée that should have been his according to precedent. And Juri choosing Haruka probably made Rido lose face among their society, since people would naturally wonder why Juri spurned tradition and married the second son instead.

(Actually, it wouldn’t matter if the monarchy getting dissolved took place first or if Juri choosing Haruka took place first, the point is both happened and it screwed him up.)

Rido most likely didn’t love Juri, but simply believed he did. He probably conflated Juri with what he lost/ what should have been his by birthright and became unhealthily obsessed with the idea of her. It didn’t help that the one Juri chose was Haruka, who we know has a mild and kind personality. To someone like Rido, those are traits probably considered “weak”, and thus he probably never thought of Haruka as his rival. Therefore, the fact that he lost to Haruka of all people shocked him, and there might have been some anger and sorrow at being betrayed by a sibling. So anyway, Rido’s emotions as well as his ego got clobbered.

But fate is not done with him yet! His parents most likely decided to engage him to Shizuka “without his consent” around the time that Haruka and Juri got engaged/married. They might have rushed to engage him off to whoever was available at that time (unluckily for Shizuka it happened to be her), hoping to get him out of the way of his siblings’ happiness. Rido probably was pissed, since not only does he not get to choose his new fiancée, the one chosen for him hails from a clan with a history of supposedly going insane, instead of someone with a less problematic pedigree. His parents really doing him dirty lol.

I think he really had some deep-rooted problems with his parents. Sometimes parents just don’t like their child, because of personality and ideological differences…Anyway, they were definitely in a strained relationship which would explain why Rido could go so far to kill his own parents and feel no guilt over it.

XXX

Finally, towards the end of his life he really just lost it.

Rido probably tried to keep up appearances and act like everything is okay and that his world is not falling apart, thus allowing Juri and Haruka to still trust him. But over the years he just stewed in his anger against his parents, his siblings and the world in general and turned into a very bitter and hateful person on the inside. And although he probably tried to suppress his growing darkness, his bad traits got amped up while his better traits died. It was probably extremely infuriating for him to see his siblings so happy in their pink glittery world while he himself was drowning in darkness.

(Even Kaien was annoyed by Haruka and Juri’s “pink world”, imagine an already salty and bitter Rido seeing this type of scene for centuries and just frothing with rage on the inside LOL)

So Rido became a sadistic ass towards the end, taking his anger out on people that have nothing to do with it. He tried to make Shizuka miserable and force her to be docile and had no luck with that but succeeded in breaking Senri’s mom and driving the poor woman crazy. Though if you think about it, in a way he did succeed in breaking Shizuka too… he caused her lover’s death and when she lost her lover, she basically lost her will to live.

Hino showed how talented Rido is at antagonizing others. While he possessed Senri, he intentionally hurt Senri’s body to toy with Takuma.

Even after his death, his dregs were tormenting Kaname by pointing out all his inner concerns, taunting Kaname about how he has no hope left.

In VKM, Yuki mentions Rido as someone “with overwhelming desires that only plunge the world around [him] into misery.” Overall, Rido probably got his giggles by making others miserable.

Besides getting high off ruining the lives of other people, he was just a bastard in general. He used everyone around him as tools, even his own sons. Unlike Shizuka or Kaname, he did not care about his subordinates at all, to him they were just “appetizers” and expendables. He also had zero reservations about forcing lower vampires to submit to his will.

Anyway, Rido probably was already a bitter jackass but he really snapped when he found out Juri was pregnant and would start a happy little family with Haruka. Maybe he was idiotically holding onto hope that as long as Juri didn’t have a kid, he still had a chance? Regardless, it was at that point that he gave up any vestiges of humanity he had left and decided to just pursue power instead.

With no hope left he just decided to give in to his primitive instincts and lust after power, at the expense of family ties. In a way, he might have felt betrayed by his family, and reasoned with himself that unlike the throne and Juri, at least power won’t be stolen away.

BTW, I think his decision to sacrifice Yuki’s real brother to ancestor Kaname was spontaneous and not premeditated. After all, crazy people are unlikely to plan things in advance and just do as their whims dictate...

Maybe it came to him right when he stared at Juri holding her newborn.

“It’s such irony that this baby was named ‘Kaname’ like you. That’s what got me started thinking of this.”

Because his plan (if he had one) sucked. He should have known that the famished, revived ancestor would attack him, since the blood of a tiny baby was clearly not enough. And yet he made no preparations to fend off such an attack and ended up getting drained by Kaname.

As a side note, Haruka could have killed Rido right then, when Rido was badly wounded by ancestor Kaname.

But he didn’t, and chose to have Rido imprisoned by the Senate instead. Haruka should have known that Rido would never give up on destroying his family as long as he lived, so the logical thing would have been to kill him. Even Rido mentions this later when he returned for Yuki.

While Haruka’s pacifist nature played a part in this, I think he also restrained himself from giving in to vengeful rage partly out of the fact that they are family, and more likely out of guilt. Perhaps Haruka had always felt guilty for marrying Juri and realized that he was partly responsible for driving Rido insane.

Anyway, Rido crossed the line by killing a helpless baby and basically burned all his bridges. At this point he didn’t really give any fucks anymore.

Asato mentions how Rido was like a child, even though he has lived so long. I think the analogy fits, because Rido acted like a child throwing a tantrum, trying to destroy everything and doing whatever he pleased with no regard for consequences or others.

In a sense, like Shizuka, Rido had already lost his will to go on living. The only thing keeping him hanging on was the need to lash out. Even though he acted like he was pursuing greater power, aiming to consume Kaname and Yuki to become more powerful, he wasn’t actually trying.

If he was serious, he would not have gotten easily distracted, suddenly deciding to have Yuki replace Juri instead of continuing with the plan to devour her. Rido also didn’t bother trying to fight seriously at the end and Zero comments on this.

Otherwise Zero and Yuki together could not have beaten him, given how Rido is much older/powerful and consumed at least 2 other purebloods. Even Sara said that Rido was acting foolishly reckless, saying he was just having fun.

XXX

Overall, given this interpretation of Rido, I actually feel bad for him. I believe that he drove himself crazy wondering why his parents ended the monarchy instead of letting him be the next king, and wondering why Juri chose Haruka over him. Those questions probably haunted him for centuries.

That feeling that you tried your best, did everything you were supposed to, but still ended up with nothing is something I can relate to. Sometimes one just wants to watch the world burn given how unjust life usually is (even though logically we know it is wrong to feel this way). So yeah, these are my headcanons and analysis of Rido, who I prefer to see as a deeper/more interesting character than just a sis-con psychopath LOL.

#Vampire Knight #rido kuran #Haruka Kuran #Juri Kuran #Shizuka Hio #Kaname Kuran

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 4 years

Text

Right Next Door (Oikawa Tooru x F!reader)

You somehow end up roommates with Oikawa, sharing a bathroom, and let the unavoidable question of whether or not you’re soulmates hang in the air for far too long.

genre: fluff, slight angst (unintentional), college, roommate, soulmate!au words: 3k+

Nearly dropping the box you’re holding, you stare at the annoyingly perfect boy standing across the doorway from you. He’s beaming and introducing himself to your parents who are looking just as confused as you are. Spotting you behind them, his smile only brightens, striding forward to greet you. “Hey roomie!”

It’s an effort to keep your jaw from dropping to the floor. “Room…roommate?” You blink, unable to tell if he’s joking or not. Shouldn’t you have a—you don’t know—a girl roommate?

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly he says, “Yeah…looks like they had an uneven number and we got stuck together. Shouldn’t be a problem though right? We just share a bathroom.”

You swallow nervously. While he’s right, both of you have your own single rooms and share the bathroom, you don’t think your parents are going to be too keen on the idea of a boy being in such close living quarters with you. Particularly when said boy looks like a male model.

“Oikawa Tooru.” He sticks his hand out, then realizes you’re preoccupied with the box you’re holding. “Ah, sorry, let me help you! I’m all moved in already.” You’re still too much in shock to protest when he takes the box from your hands and asks you for your name.

Walking back out to the car to grab more of your things, your mother murmurs, “I’m not sure about this…”

Not wanting to go through the hassle of moving, finding a new roommate, and probably being unable to look Oikawa in the eye for the remainder of your college career, you assure her, “It’s really just a bathroom. Nothing to worry about.” She looks unconvinced, but lets it go.

Little do you know that sharing a bathroom is more difficult that you anticipate. Especially on the first day of classes when you both have an 8am and need to be in the bathroom at the same time. Or when you find out that the two of you both like to shower in the morning and open your respective doors at the same time to take one.

You got quite the view of his perfectly sculpted chest that morning and have switched to afternoon showers just to avoid him.

The most annoying aspect about being his roommate is the unspoken question in the room. Whether or not the two of you are soulmates. It would be easy enough to figure it out. Let him stub his toe and see if you feel it too. But there’s never a good way to bring the subject up. Not when you only see him for brief moments and most of those moments, he’s been half clothed. Not really the time to blurt out wanting to find out if the two of you are connected by the universe.

Though, you can’t help that when you do see him, your attention drifts to his knee. Throughout elementary school, you didn’t notice much pain besides the occasional rug burn or cut. But as middle school rolled around, the pain in your knee began to grow. It was constant and nagged you with each step, to the point where you couldn’t tell if it was your pain or theirs.

And as high school hit, the pain only increased. Enough that you consulted a doctor about it and discovered it wasn’t your pain at all. Your knee is perfectly fine, and whatever your soulmate is doing is completely wrecking their knee. While you feel the pain of it, you won’t bear any of the consequences like they will if they keep going the way they do.

Whoever they are, you’re reminded daily of them through your shared pain. And whenever you find them, you’re going to slap them upside the head and demand just what exactly they’re doing that’s destroying their knee as the years have passed.

But Oikawa’s knee seems fine. At least to your knowledge. So, you never bring it up. No point in making this situation any more awkward than it already is.

Nearing the end of the semester, doing the study guide for your physics exam, you’re stumped on the same question for 20 minutes and no amount of googling has gotten you any closer to the answer. Groaning angrily, you lean back in your chair and tangle your fingers into your hair. You don’t understand half the problems you’ve completed already, but even after skipping this one and returning to it; and spending more time on google than on the actual problem you’ve hit a dead end. And it doesn’t help that your knee is acting up, whatever your soulmate is doing right now is not what you need at the moment.

Glancing warily at the bathroom door, you mull over the idea of asking Oikawa to help you. You know he’s home, you heard him return about an hour ago and haven’t heard his door open since. And you know enough about him that he’s pretty damn good at schoolwork on top of being ridiculously good-looking. Truly—it isn’t fair.

You go back and forth on it for a bit longer before the prospect of extra credit outweighs any anxiety you have approaching him of your own accord. Your chair groans as you push out from your desk and pad quietly to the bathroom. It takes you a few minutes to garner the courage to knock on his door to the bathroom opposite from yours.

There’s no answer. Not even a sound of acknowledgement. You pause a moment before leaning it to listen through the door. It’s quiet.

That’s odd. You were so sure he was home.

You knock again, this time accompanying it with, “Anyone home?”

Again, you’re met with silence. You frown. Either he’s ignoring you spectacularly or he’s not home—you decide to go with the latter. Knocking again you say loudly, “I’m coming in!”

When you open the door, Oikawa jerks from the stretch he was in the middle of and falls into a heap on the floor. He’s wearing nothing but impressively short shorts, sweat glistening on his golden skin, and your immediate reaction is to close your eyes, turn tail, and get the fuck out of there. However, your body moves a lot quicker than your brain and you end up closing your eyes, turning, and smacking straight into the doorframe.

You hear him laugh as you join him on the floor burying your forehead in your hands. “Am I that terrible to look at?”

Despite that your eyes are still screwed shut, that image of him will be burned into your memory forever. Just like you can’t forget the sight of him ready to shower, his towel draped low around his waist, chest on display for you to ogle at. A sight you’re sure half the girls on campus would kill for.

“What? No—I mean—,” you splutter, reaching for any object to help you up and get out of his room.

Your arm is grasped by a warm and sturdy one that lifts you to your feet, and Oikawa teases, “Oh, so you’re saying I’m nice to look at?”

“That’s not—ugh, just put some damn clothes on, will you?”

He laughs again but his hand leaves your arm and you hear some rustling before he says, “Alright you’re safe now.” Peeking one eye open, you’re relieved to see that he has indeed clothed himself but is now sitting quite smugly on his bed looking at you. He knows he flusters you and it makes heat crawl up your neck. “So, what did you need that warranted barging into my room like that?”

You cross your arms. “I knocked! Three times!”

He grimaces, then nods to his desk where his phone connected to some headphones have been discarded. “Couldn’t hear you, sorry.”

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have come in without permission anyways. You’re clearly busy and what I needed wasn’t that important.”

He cocks his head. “I’m pretty much done! What did you need?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you realize the hardest part is swallowing your pride and asking him outright for help. “I’m stuck on a stupid physics problem.” You frown at the smile that lights up his features, knowing he’s going to lay on the teasing real thick.

“And you need my help?” He grins, theatrically clutching his chest. “The great brain of Oikawa Tooru?” You roll your eyes as he continues, “The physics master? I will humbly provide my knowledge—”

“Are you going to help me or not?” You say, already retreating to the safety of your own room. Oikawa shuts up and scrambles to follow you, dragging his own desk chair through the bathroom and into your room.

He plops down on it backwards and rests his chin on the backrest, peering at your desk. “Which problem is it?” Taking a seat next to him, you slide your textbook to him and point out the source of your stress. Watching him carefully, you realize it’s fascinating to watch him shift to this completely foreign expression he has while reading the question. Up until this point, you haven’t seen anything besides his playful teasing demeanor—not this serious, thoughtful one he’s currently sporting.

After a minute, he reaches across the desk to grab your pencil and notebook and starts explaining the problem to you. Subconsciously, you scoot closer to him to get a better view of the paper as it feels like the physics knowledge gates are finally opening to you. The way he explains it is clear and concise and makes way more sense than your textbook ever did.

When he’s finished, you turn the page and point out another problem. “I may have googled this one,” you admit, pressing your lips into a firm line, unable to look at him.

He just smirks, peering at you from the corner of his eye. “How many have you googled?”

Slumping in your chair, you cover your face with your hands. God—it’s embarrassing admitting to him how dumb you feel in this class when it seems so obviously easy to him. “A lot.”

He doesn’t tease you though. All he says is, “You’ve been living next to me all this time!”

Finally realizing just how royally fucked you are for this class, you bow your head and mutter, “Please help me.” He makes a small surprised choking noise that you immediately shove him for. “Stuff it.”

“I was right though.”

“About what?”

He gives you a mischievous grin. “You do need the physics master.”

That gets him shoved off his chair completely.

Oikawa tutors you for the next couple of days whenever he has the time between his own classes, studying, and volleyball practice. Most of the time that means he’s tutoring you over lunch and dinner, and sometimes late into the evening. You learn a lot more about him in a week than you have the entire semester. He loves volleyball and plays for the university, is probably one of the smartest people you know, and your newest discovery—is alarmingly obsessed with milk bread.

Enough that he deems it proper payment when you pass your physics exam, demanding that if he’s to continue tutoring you that you keep the supply of milk bread coming. You don’t tell him, but you purposefully bought the most expensive kind you could find to thank him. And if he notices, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he tears through the packaging like a little kid and shoves an enormous piece into his mouth.

In the midst of chewing he says, “I have a game tonight, but afterwards we’re going to karaoke if you want to come and celebrate passing!” He watches you hesitate, knowing you would. You’ve slowly been opening yourself up to him, and while he’s persistent—so are you. “It’s just a few people, it’ll be fun! And I’ll be there~”

That earns him an eye roll. “All the more reason not to go.”

“Mean!” He says, giving you his signature pout. One that he’s learned you’re not impervious to. “How about you don’t have to buy me any more milk bread if you come? Hmm? Enticing, isn’t it?”

“You really want to cut off your milk bread supply?”

He frowns. “Well—no, but I want you to come.” He stares at you so earnestly that you can feel color rising to your cheeks.

In order to relieve yourself from his attention you concede. “Fine. I’ll come.”

“Yay!” He wraps you up into a hug, gathers his volleyball bag and stuffs the remaining milk break into his mouth. “I’ll text you!” He shouts through a mouthful of milk bread as he hurries out the door.

Sighing, you sink onto your bed and try to distract yourself with a TV show. Yet your thoughts keep drifting to Oikawa and his volleyball match. After being his roommate all semester, you’ve never seen him play. And he must be good if he actually plays for the university and doesn’t just sit on the bench. Glancing at your watch, your curiosity gets the better of you.

You buy your ticket at the door and once you find a seat in the stands you immediately begin searching for a familiar head of perfect brown hair. Spotting him down on the court setting for his teammates, you realize that he didn’t invite you to watch his game. What if he doesn’t want you here? You shrink into your seat further, hoping he doesn’t scan the crowd and notice you. Luckily, he’s far too occupied with warming up and when the team approaches the stands to extend their thanks his attention is taken by his slew of fangirls who are waving at him from the front row.

When the team bows before returning to the court, you sit straighter in your chair and lean forward to get a better glimpse at him. He’s wearing knee pads like the other players, but what caught your attention are that his are different colors. One black, the other white. If you were to guess, it looks like some kind of knee brace to you.

But that’s…that’s a coincidence isn’t it? It has to be. No matter if it’s the same knee as yours.

Throughout the game, you can’t help but be highly aware of the pain panging through your knee. You try and chalk it up to your imagination, but the pain seems to be aligning with Oikawa’s movements. Yet he shows no sign that it’s bothering him at all. It must be your imagination. You can’t fathom that if he’s feeling the same pain you are that he’d be able to hide it so well.

You can’t stop thinking about it. What if it is him? What will you do then? And by the time the game ends, you’re drowning in your own thoughts, barely noticing that the team is lining up to bow to the crowd again. This time doing a poorer job of hiding and he notices you. First, he looks shocked, then a smile lights up his features and he fucking winks at you which makes all the girls in the front row swoon thinking it was for them.

Did he bait you into coming here? You frown, returning his gesture by sticking your tongue out at him.

You purposefully avoid him after the game, though end up stumbling upon him placating his fan club just outside the gym. He sees you, but for your sake, he doesn’t acknowledge you; saving you from the wrath of the Oikawa fan club. You hide around the corner, knowing you’re going to have to face him eventually and come through on your agreement to go to karaoke night.

He finds you a few minutes later, already grinning devilishly and wiggling his eyebrows. “Trying to sneak out?”

“Maybe.”

“Too late!” He links his arm through yours and drags you out from your hiding place. “Well? Did you like it? Volleyball, I mean.”

You try very hard not to fixate on his proximity, not wanting to give anything away. If you’ve learned anything about Oikawa at all since you started spending more time with him is that he is far more observant than he looks. And he certainly showed that down on the court today. “It was fun to watch. And you’re really good.”

He beams, though this time it feels half-assed. “You think so?”

“Yeah. I have a question though.”

“Shoot!”

“Why are your knee pads different colors?”

Oikawa almost stops in his tracks. Why of all things is that the thing you noticed? But he composes himself and says smoothly, “I couldn’t find my other black one. Coach nearly ripped me a new one.” You don’t believe him. To his relief, he catches sight of his teammates and picks up his pace dragging you behind him. “It’s karaoke time!”

He introduces you to his teammates, and they’re all extremely nice and welcoming. It helps that they’ve invited people of their own too, so you don’t feel like you’re intruding on anything. Oikawa grills you about the game while people take turns on the karaoke machine. It’s fun talking to him about it, as he clearly loves the sport, and you don’t mind indulging him.

Though what you won’t indulge him in is getting up on the stage and singing. You’re enjoying watching others do it, particularly Oikawa belt his heart out and make a complete fool of himself. Even though every time he gets up there, he does his very best to coax you to join him. He even goes so far as to dance off the stage and come over to where you’re sitting, giving you his signature pout that he thinks you can’t resist.

On about his third go, he’s eyeing you up and you just know he’s planning something ridiculous. His final and most outrageous scheme to get you up on stage yet—you’re sure of it. To thwart him, you get up to refill your glass of water; to which he panics and leaps off the stage dramatically to stop you.

When his feet hit the floor, he isn’t expecting his bad knee to buckle beneath him, making him feel like the air has just been knocked out of him as he stumbles to the floor. He’s at least used to hiding his pain, so he’s able to swallow the shout that almost escapes him.

Though a few steps away, his head jerks up at the sound of your voice barking out in pain. Without warning, blazing pain laces up your thigh and you crumple to the floor. The room has gone utterly silent, only the sound of the music playing fills the air, and Oikawa feels like his heart is about to bust out of his chest.

He isn’t prepared for you to whip around, still on your hands and knees, and hiss, “You liar!” He pales under the weight of your stare. You struggle to your feet and storm out of the building, doing your best not to limp, and he thinks he’d very much like to dissolve into the floor now. His teammates are staring at him in disbelief and one of them says, “Guess we should tell your fan club to cancel their weekly soulmate meetings.”

“You guys are awful,” he sighs and grips the nearest table to hoist himself to his feet. He tests his weight on his knee and finds that it isn’t as bad as it could have been, just landed wrong. Despite teasing him, his team shoos him out the door to find you.

This definitely wasn’t not what he was expecting when he found his soulmate.

No surprise that he finds you in your room, and when he walks in you just huff and pull your knees closer to your chest. “So, you’re the damn idiot destroying his knee.” Leaning on the doorframe, he’s aware that he should keep his distance for now. “Why did you lie?”

“It’s a touchy subject.”

You groan, flopping back onto your bed, knowing it’s best to not press the issue. Not until he’s ready to explain it to you. “Oikawa Tooru,” you muse. “My soulmate.”

He steps a little farther into the room and peers down at you on your bed. “How come you gotta say it like that? I’d say you’re the luckiest girl in the world,” he teases.

“Oh god.”

“Now you’re just making me sad,” he pouts, going so far as to sit on your bed with you.

Lifting your head up to look at him, the tightness in his chest loosens at the small smile on your lips. “Your fan club’s going to kill me.”

He just stares at you for a moment before bursting out into full blown laughter. You’re taken aback, never having heard Oikawa laugh so unabashedly before, but find that your own smile grows on your face. “I’ll handle them,” he says, then opens his arms up to you. “Now can we have a real ‘soulmate’ moment please?”

You can’t help but throw yourself into his arms and melt into his embrace. He wraps his arms around you and pets your head softly, kissing the top of it, letting himself enjoy this moment. He’s…glad it’s you. He enjoys being around you, able to be himself and not put on the façade he’s perfected for his fan club. “I’ll tell you about the knee sometime, I promise,” he says into your hair.

He feels you chuckle and against his chest reply, “You better, seeing as I have to deal with it too.” You squeeze him gently and comfortingly. “But for now, let’s focus on me not getting murdered in my sleep by a gaggle of fan girls, okay?”

He lets his laugh come out unrestrained again, a beautiful sound you hope to never stop hearing, and holds you even tighter against his chest, like if he lets go, you’ll slip right through his fingers. Good thing you live right next door.

The way Oikawa breaks it to his fan club is by no means gentle. He’s watched you be nervous about it for the past couple days, always peering around corners, and being generally on edge when you’re out in public with him. So, when he does spot them across campus, he pulls you into his arms and although you whisper angrily, “What are you doing? They’re right there!” He presses his lips to yours and kisses you for all the world to see.

And while you normally love how unfairly good kisser he is, you also really hate it because it makes all your thoughts disappear. You like to tease him it’s his secret talent, which he takes far too much pride in. He’s notorious for striding into your room and making you forget all about whatever homework you were doing.

But do you really mind?

#Oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru imagine #oikawa tooru scenario #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario

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starsailorstories · 3 years

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I’ve mentioned the grammatical registers of Altamaian here and there but I just now pulled together Info About Them and I’m really excited to share it because it’s one of the main ways it differs from Latin (which it’s a predecessor of in the SC universe) and also just a fun bit of worldbuilding that informs a lot of exchanges in the stories

Modern Standard Altamaian is notable for the way its grammar and vocabulary change based on social context and the expressive style of the particular speaker. Obviously the best Earth analog to this is probably Japanese, but Altamaian differs in that registers are conveyed solely through highly regular affixes and changes in syntax, rather than that + whole new polite forms of words. Shifts to simpler or flowerier vocabulary occur with shifts in speaking style just as in English, but they are not a grammatical part of the register--one can speak in a very formal register and use very simple language and vice versa. While some features exist in more than one register and features of different registers are often mixed to convey a particular tone, the basic divisions are:

Casual/direct: The most notable feature of direct speech in Altamaian is that it tends to be more topic-forward, ironically similar to Classical Syfrae considering its association with the uneducated masses. It uses direct forms of words with few augmentative or diminutive affixes (although there are exceptions in dialect/slang), direct address of listeners, and few separate subject words (relying on verb conjugation to indicate who is doing what). Commonly used among friends or, among the lower lumini, overtures to strangers which may range from friendly to aggressive (to put it in English terms, “Hey I love your outfit”, “Watch out for the snowplow back there!”, and “Put your turn signal on dumbass!” would all, when directed at strangers, be direct-register phrases). Also used for statements aimed at a general audience, such as announcements. Traffic and regulatory signs in the Rings use this register, breaking with the tradition on the planets of the Four Suns of using the formal/polite register (below)--this has led to a lot of memery amongst residents of the old cities around translating them as much more vulgar than they actually are (THE GAP, BITCH! MIND IT!)

Formal/polite: This is actually the most commonly used register for many people, as it tends to be expected of students and in public and professional life, as well as in most media properties funded by the aristocracy. The weirdly hint-of-gender concept of “gentlemaidenliness” is quite bound up with this type of speech although not everyone who uses it would be identified as such--it’s started to be a bit more class-flexible because this is a dying breed but it USED to mean “unbound (and thus not using humble speech) colony-daughter who works for her living (and thus not using benevolent speech) but is nonetheless the Right Sort of People (and thus not using direct speech).” Despite retaining most of the inflections of the regular grammar, polite speech uses rigid SOV word order in the second and third person and OSV word order in the first (so you’re always putting the other person first--an element it shares with humble speech, although formal speech is usually used between strangers/those without any particular relationship regardless of the social status of either speaker) and subject pronouns are generally included. The speaker will still usually address the listener directly unless she is of vastly higher social status (in which case you’d better have a good reason to be speaking to her at all).

Humble (“admiring”): this register goes a step beyond polite speech and emphasizes the humility of the speaker while showing respect--sometimes quite impassioned respect--to the listener. It retains many traits of the polite register like “others first” word order, but in addition, the listener is never referred to by a second-person pronoun--only by a formal address title or phrase, or in the third person--and the speaker will use only diminutive words (including diminutive forms of verbs) to refer to herself, her equals, and her own actions, while referring to the listener with augmentatives. This type of speech is often used in a official context--formal appeals for grants or workers’ benefits, tax papers for businesses, and legal documents all generally exhibit some amount of it, as they’re necessarily addressed from commoners to nobles--yet it remains heavily associated with courtly love, and is often found in romantic sentiments between apparent social equals, especially (you saw this coming didn’t you?) when one party has screwed things up and is trying to salvage them. Although it’s not a formal rule, this register is also associated with phrases and modifiers that qualify one’s statements, akin to the English “I think” although a more accurate translation would be “in my humble opinion,” if a less formal version of that phrase existed in modern English usage.

“Loquelita” or cute humble speech: a subset of humble speech makes use of intensifying reduplication (the exact equivalent of saying “I am so so so so glad” except you do it to the main adjective not the modifier: I am glad glad glad!), doubles up or repeats diminutive and augmentative affixes, and draws vocabulary from youthful and childhood vernacular as well as archaic recitations which are standard knowledge among educated Basilean citizens. This is most often heard in contexts of delicisma or other direct relationships between a high-status lady and a significantly younger and lower-status hanger-on, although it’s associated with literal children (if you’re at a fancy private school this is how you ask your teacher if you can end the lesson early and play heads up seven up lol) and seen as a bit degrading past a certain age and above a certain career level, not to mention inappropriate with superiors who don’t already know and love you. Basically if you’re going to use the “you know how i’m your most favoritest and you love me so much” register variant you’d better be pretty sure the answer isn’t going to be “no? leave.”

Benevolent: Used by high-status leaders (nobles, politicians, some powerful commoners although usually not until their PR consultant tells them to) to speak to or about their inferiors. In Altamaian, “aiko”--the equivalent to the Latin “ego” subject pronoun--is a way of referring to oneself in an official capacity of rulership akin to the royal “we,” although it can be used by anyone in a circumstance where “I” or “me” would be the only word in the sentence (like “Who moved this?” “Me”). The use of this pronoun and of SVO word order are considered proper for describing decisions made from the top of the hierarchy for the (alleged) good of others; such descriptions will also generally use the formal-benefactive noun case to describe the object. Augmentative affixes for such actions, and diminutive ones for those of the listener(s), are also characteristic.

Familiar: Also sometimes called “soft register,” this is commonly used by parents speaking to children and for reassuring or emotional exchanges between close friends or lovers. Familiar word order is often (though not always) object-first: an example is the most accurate Altamaian translation of the English “I love you,” “Esti quos amo,” literally “It is you that I love.” Diminutives are often used for both the speaker and the listener (but not others), and a special set of affectionate subject pronouns may be employed.

Intimate: Some people consider certain forms that can occur in familiar speech a sub-register known as “intimate speech,” reserved for intense moments and relationships. This mode retains the word order and affectionate diminutives but mostly drops pronouns in reference to the listener and employs an archaic, general first-person verb conjugation that blurs the line between “you” and “we”. It is almost always more direct than familiar speech and can be used to express passionate anger or hurt. This means Altamaian has the imo EXCELLENT feature of having a way to say “I love you” REALLY HARD, and it’s just “amaei”, one word, four vowels, GREAT for screaming out windows.

#conlangs #writing #sweet chariot

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introvertguide · 3 years

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Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964); AFI #39

The most recent movie for the group to review was the Kubrick dark comedy, Dr. Strangelove (I am not writing out the whole title each time). This film has some of the most legitimately funny lines of bewilderment, with some occasions involving an actor playing across from himself. For most film goers, this will be Peter Seller’s most famous role since he plays three main characters, all with different accents, appearances, and quirks. The film was nominated for 4 Academy Awards (Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay, and Best Actor) but did not take home any trophies. The film did win best picture at the BAFTAs. This film was definitely in the style of Kubrick, but it was in a genre that I don’t believe he delved into again. I want to review the plot before discussing further, so let me get the usual out of the way:

SPOILER ALERT!!! I AM ABOUT TO GIVE AWAY THE WHOLE PLOT OF THE FILM!!! IF YOU WANT TO WATCH THE FILM ON YOUR OWN WITHOUT HAVING ANYTHING SPOILED, STOP NOW AND WATCH THE FILM!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!

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At the start, we are introduced to United States Air Force Brigadier General Jack D. Ripper (Sterling Hayden) who is commander of Burpelson Air Force Base. This base houses a group of B-52 bombers armed with hydrogen bombs that are constantly in the air. The planes are constantly within two hours from their targets inside the USSR in case of nuclear war. General Ripper orders his executive officer, Group Captain Lionel Mandrake of the UK Royal Air Force (Peter Sellers), to put the base on alert and to issue "Wing Attack Plan R" to the patrolling bombers, one of which is commanded by Major T. J. "King" Kong (Slim Pickens). All of the aircraft commence an attack flight on the USSR, and set their radios to allow communications only through their CRM 114 discriminators, which was designed to accept only communications preceded by a secret three-letter code known only to General Ripper. Mandrake discovers that no attack order has been issued by the Pentagon and tries to stop Ripper, who locks them both in his office. Ripper tells Mandrake that he believes the Soviets have been fluoridating American water supplies to pollute the "precious bodily fluids" of Americans. Mandrake realizes Ripper has gone insane.

In the War Room at the Pentagon, General Buck Turgidson (George C Scott) briefs President Merkin Muffley (Peter Sellers again) and other officers about how "Plan R" enables a senior officer to launch a retaliatory nuclear attack on the Soviets if all superiors have been killed in a first strike on the United States. It would take two days to try every CRM code combination to issue the recall order, but the planes are due to reach their targets within hours. Muffley orders the U.S. Army to storm the base and arrest General Ripper. Turgidson then attempts to convince Muffley to let the attack continue, but Muffley refuses. Instead, he brings Soviet ambassador Alexei de Sadeski (Peter Bull) into the War Room to telephone Soviet Premier Dimitri Kissov on the "hotline". Muffley warns the Premier of the impending attack, and offers to reveal the positions of the bombers and their targets so that the Soviets can protect themselves.

After a heated discussion in Russian with the Premier, the ambassador informs President Muffley that the Soviet Union had created a doomsday machine as a nuclear deterrent; it consists of many buried bombs jacketed with "cobalt-thorium G", which are set to detonate automatically should any nuclear attack strike the country. Within two months after detonation, the cobalt-thorium G would encircle the planet in a radioactive shroud that would render the Earth's surface uninhabitable. The device cannot be deactivated, as it is programmed to explode if any such attempt is made. The President's wheelchair-bound scientific advisor, former Nazi German Dr. Strangelove (Peter Sellers one more time), points out that such a doomsday machine would only be an effective deterrent if everyone knew about it; Alexei replies that the Soviet Premier had planned to reveal its existence to the world the following week.

Meanwhile, U.S. Army troops arrive at Burpelson, and General Ripper commits suicide. Mandrake identifies Ripper's CRM code from his desk blotter and relays it to the Pentagon. Using the code, Strategic Air Command successfully recalls all of the bombers except Major Kong's, whose radio equipment has been damaged in a missile attack. The Soviets attempt to find it, but Kong has the bomber attack a closer target due to dwindling fuel. As the plane approaches the new target, a Soviet ICBM site, the crew is unable to open the damaged bomb bay doors. Kong enters the bay and repairs the broken electrical wiring while sitting on a H-bomb, whereupon the doors open and the bomb is dropped. Kong joyfully straddles the bomb as it falls and detonates over the target.

Back in the War Room, Dr. Strangelove recommends that the President gather several hundred thousand people to live in deep underground mines where the radiation will not penetrate. He suggests a 10:1 female-to-male ratio for a breeding program to repopulate the Earth once the radiation has subsided. Worried that the Soviets will do the same, Turgidson warns about a "mineshaft gap" while Alexei secretly photographs the war room. Dr. Strangelove declares he has a plan, but then rises from his wheelchair and announces "Mein Führer, I can walk!" as the Doomsday Machine activates. The film ends with a montage of many nuclear explosions, accompanied by Vera Lynn's rendition of the song "We'll Meet Again".

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This is a pretty weird film, but it has some of the funniest lines in cinema. Discussions of not letting a Russian envoy into the war room because he will “see the big board,” the president announcing there is no fighting in the war room, a crazy general constantly talking about a plot to steal American bodily fluids, and a discussion about how the high ranking officials and generals would be hidden in shelters with a 10-1 ratio of hot women to men with the expectation of constant impregnation which everybody suddenly favors: it is all absurd. But I really love it and laugh every time I watch.

The three roles of Peter Sellers is especially noteworthy, as all of his characters are so different. He plays a very British foreign exchange officer (I am not sure this exists), an absolutely whacky former Nazi scientist, and the straight man of the film in the form of the US president. Since Dr. Strangelove was an advisor to the president, there were many scenes in which Peter Sellers was acting across from a stunt shoulder or the back of a head that was supposed to be him. He did a fantastic job of making light of total world destruction during the cold war.

One very notable thing about the acting of Peter Sellers was that he had a couple of ad libs during the movie. Stanley Kubrick is not a director that particularly cares if he gets along with his actors, often times demanding dozens of takes for even the simplest of background scenes. Long dialogue scenes are repeated over and over to the point that many actors did not want to work with Kubrick. And still, the director seemed to like Sellers quite a bit and kept a couple of the takes that were ad-libbed, specifically for the character of Dr. Strangelove. Perhaps the crazy former Nazi character was so unpredictable that random whacky outbursts (like the scream for “Mein Fuhrer” at the end) seemed appropriate.

A little side note is that this was the first film appearance of James Earl Jones as one of the bombardiers on the B-52. He was known for his work in the theatre at the time, so of course he had a bit part in which he was mostly covered in a flight suit and said very little. Now that is a misuse of talent.

A point about the movie that I was unaware but was pointed out by a follower of the group was that the promotional material for the film shows that the plane was named “Leper Colony” (thank you @themightyfoo). This implies that this group was actually a bunch of screw ups, which is part of the overall joke that this group was given access to world ending bombing capabilities. Maybe it was assumed that the order to drop the bombs would never be given and this group was just given this detail to get them out of the way.

So does this movie belong on the AFI list? Yes, but maybe not ranked so high. It has a lot of name recognition, but I think that is more due to the very distinct naming and the titular role. Maybe the notoriety is also due to the subject matter and the time it was released. It is a fine film with great acting, but I find it hard to put above Jaws, Rocky, or Taxi Driver. I guess that is more my humble opinion, but I agree the list would be lacking without this film. So would I recommend it? Absolutely. It is an interesting story about how red tape allowed one high ranking individual to literally destroy the world. And it is a joke. It is such a well told story that they had to put a disclaimer at the front. A great lesson, even today.

#dr. strangelove #stanley kubrick #top 100 #movies #black and white #nuclear war #cold war #dark comedy #peter sellers #george c. scott #introvert #introverts

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chibimyumi · 4 years

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I hope you're doing well

I have questions if you don't mind

Who do like Axel von Fersen in Marie Antoinette or Axel von Fersen in 1789 les amants de la bastille and also do you like Marie Antoinette in Marie Antoinette or in 1789 les amants de la bastille

Thank you for answering my questions

Dear Anon,

I am doing well, thank you very much! I hope you too.

Hmmm, as a quick answer I would say I prefer both Marie and Fersen from ‘Toho MA’, but the full answer is slightly more complicated.

Firstly, it is almost unfair to compare them to each other because in MA they are the main characters, whereas in 1789 they are main-support or secondary-mains at best.

Secondly, MA has a far bigger focus on the characters because that is what drives the plot, while the opposite is true for 1789, which mainly sells a spectacle. I myself am more fan of subtle and deep story-telling rather than spectacular shows, so the MA versions of Marie and Fersen are more to my liking.

Thirdly, the quality of the characters also depends greatly on the cast. My first view of MA is the A-cast, and therefore my impression of the characters is that they are incredibly well written. After comparison with other casts however, I started to wonder whether it was just the A-cast being too good, and the musical itself being ‘fine’. (In short; I’m not fully sure how much I’d ‘clearly’ have preferred MA Marie and Fersen were it not for A-cast. Click here for a comparison between the two casts written by my friend @wildandwhirlingwords)

But, I shall go into more detail for both characters why MA’s version appeals more to me - someone who enjoys character writing most.

🌹Marie Antoinette🌹

M.A. 2018

In my opinion Marie Antoinette is better in MA because you see her journey and her motivations. We all know that the historical Queen screwed up majorly, but in MA we see why, and in what ways she indeed had very little other choice from her own perspective. She was a flawed foreign woman in a time and place where flawed foreign women were hated most.

In the beginning of the musical the King comes tell Marie that she’d have to live more economically. Marie is clearly not very enthusiastic to hear that, but she also never protests. She just asks ‘why’ and then accepts the answer - albeit broodingly. More importantly however: we need to keep in mind that despite being called Madam Deficit, the historical Marie Antoinette was actually quite economical at first because the Austrian court where she comes from was way less extravagant than the French. It was after her marriage into French royalty that she became more extravagant, because she was criticised for “not being a proper royal” by the French. According to the court, the 14 year old Marie was “a peasant unworthy of becoming Queen.” When you’re that young and criticised by your entire new life, you do everything in your power to make sure you can actually have a life; you adapt. So when Marie was then suddenly told to stop ‘adapting and be a proper Queen worthy of the French”, we can see why more is at stake than “Karen needs to deal with only 10 dresses a week.”

Something else that adds depth to her character as opposed to her 1789 counterpart is that as the story progresses, Marie actually grows. She becomes more mature and more serious, and you see in her how all the events have a clear toll on her. From her own perspective, she really was trying very hard, but anything she tried was inadequate to improve the situation. What she didn’t know is that no matter how hard she tried, the situation was already un-salvageable before she was even born. The populace AND the court had already decided to hate her for being an unintelligent foreign woman from an enemy state, after all. This is an insight most historians nowadays agree on.

In a later scene where Margrid confronts Marie, she asks the Queen: “what makes you think you are better than us?” Marie confirms nor denies, but replies: “I am merely Queen as I was appointed by God.” When she adds: “All I know is duties, you are free,” there is also a clear sense she genuinely doesn’t know why she was appointed by God, but as she is now, all she can do is her best. She is still ignorant, which was a genuine problem about her. She does not know the hardships of not being from the top rank, allowing her say something as insensitive as: “at least you’re free.” But again, despite her ignorance, her feelings are sincere. From all the unfair expectations she was made to live up to from age 14, you really do see why ‘a life without duties’ seemed so much more appealing to her.

1789 - The Lovers of the Bastille

Marie in 1789 is more of a side-character, and the musical itself just is not very character/story driven as MA is. 1789 has the tendency to take the tropiest of tropes and stay on surface level with the characters. Ouki Kaname is an incredibly good actress and she tries her best; but she cannot do more than the script gives her to work with.

In this musical Marie is not portrayed in a very relatable or sympathetic light. She is extravagant because she has escapist fantasies, but we don’t really see what she’s escaping from. The sympathy from the audience is supposed to be drawn from the tragedy that she’s married to the King but is in love with Fersen. Oh, and she has a son but he’s mortally ill. Meanwhile however, you don’t see how her life is so bad she needs to escape... and you also don’t see Marie really being worried about her son than an occasional: “Oh Ill again? Sucks I guess. Gotta cry my eyes out on my lover’s lap, AHHH FERSEN 💗” It was not until her son had already died that Marie woke up, but the lack of portrayal of Marie’s perspective and the pacing really makes one legitimately wonder whether the child did not just die of Marie’s neglect. And about the forbidden love ...we’ve seen enough love triangles with star-crossed-lovers... I don’t know about you guys, but I am numbbbbb to this “problem”.

When Marie receives message from Olympe that she finally gets to meet her lover after a long separation at the Palais Royal, one of the first things she says is: “is that not the place where revolutionaries and prostitutes are gathered?” This immediately sets up an empathy-barrier between her and the common people. This Marie clearly views herself too good for people who do anything to get by; why would you care about her then? Because Marie’s story is not fleshed out you don’t see parts that can make you go: “oh, the revolutionaries really hate her for reasons beyond her control, she is in danger.” Or “she was raised by a puritan society, making her hate on sex-workers; that’s part of her character flaw.” Instead it’s just this Diva being quite judgemental.

Ouki was trying very hard to make the focus about her own safety, but with the script being what it is... she’s still a mostly unsympathetic character who is a martyr of forbidden love.

There is one scene where we see her take on a much more mature and responsible role. That was the first time I personally felt like Marie from 1789 is an actual human being with feelings and personal difficulties. But in great part this is Ouki’s acting... (the other cast didn’t do much for me). What is also important is that Marie was ‘humbled’ because her son died. Marie did not have much of a personal growth, and then she changes to a more sympathetic person because of an external factor just... feels less earned.

In the finale Marie appears again in her execution clothes, and the way Ouki appeared really felt like a punch in the gut. She sings “as a recompense for our griefs, people have learnt forgiveness.” However, the story skimped over the characters so much I was left to wonder: “who learned to forgive whom?” Do you think the people forgave you? Or was there somebody you hated but now learned to forgive? What was your grudge? Do you understand the angry mob’s grudge?

The finale of the musical treats like after the heroic sacrifice of the protagonist (Ronan) the oppressive monarchy was replaced by a good democracy, and a Reign of Terror will DEFINITELY not happen under Robespierre or something. But if you’ve had a BIT of European history you just know it’s a blatant lie. So the finale just feels too simplistic, and this simplistic feeling was in part presented by Marie’s very empty, lip-service-y line.

⚔️Hans Axel von Fersen⚔️

M.A. 2018

Fersen is a bit harder to compare which version is better, because honestly, depending on who plays Fersen in MA, Fersen is either the most generic Hollywood sweeping-lover-hero, or a diamond mine to excavate. In the same post linked above by my friend, she explains in detail the differences between TashiroFersen and FurukawaFersen. K-musical fans, don’t @ me, but from what I can tell, the Korean Fersens are also very... typical.

In this post I have discussed Furukawa’s Fersen in great detail, so I shall skip over these for this post. But to summarise, when portrayed by Furukawa at least, Fersen in MA is very nuanced and restrained. Even if we do not fully credit Furukawa however, then at the very least the script allows enough space and material for an actor to flesh him out so phenomenally well (I think Tashiro and some other actors just.... really missed out on the potential).

Fersen in MA incredibly memorable because the main atmosphere of the imminent doom awaiting everyone is carried by him in a way nobody else does. The moment Fersen enters you feel the tension that the musical wishes to tell. Fersen has seen revolutions, he’s seen the power of anger; he knows shit is going to hit the fan because he’s familiar with this trajectory.

Fersen has excellent self control because he knows how a lack thereof would hurt Marie’s reputation and escalate the growing chaos. You can see very clearly how Fersen does want the intimacy, but to him duty and the grander picture has priority. In all the small actions from Fersen you see how he is a savvy intellectual through and through. (More about reservation later).

In contrast to 1789, we also get to see so much more of Fersen in MA because he is the narrator and a main character. Throughout the musical he’s been trying to de-escalate the chaos and even though his plans were actually well thought-out, the problems were just simply too big for any one person to solve. When Fersen mourns Marie there is a clear sense that he is not really surprised, just really upset that things had to come so far. Instead of singing something accusatory to the angry and hungry people, he sings: “fate, why did you give her everything, only to show her hell in the end?” Fersen truly understands why the people were duly angry, but that not taking away his sorrow of losing Marie who he knows is a better person than people make her out to be.

Also in great contrast to 1789, the finale of MA is rather grim. It does not suggest hope or that all problems will eventually disappear. The story for these people have ended, but the problems and the world will continue to our days, and days far beyond ours. It gives a feeling that the world of MA is so extensive that we - the audience - are part of it. In the finale when we see Fersen again, he also stays in tune with this feeling. “How can the problems of the world be solved, what is true justice? We remain clueless” he sings, and the way he looks into the unknown distance is almost a reminder to us that nobody has reason to stop worrying and fight for justice.

1789 - the Lovers of the Bastille

Now if we were to compare MA’s Furu Fersen to 1789′s Fersen, we see a stark contrast between the two. Where Furusen was incredibly reserved and hyper aware of everything, 1789′s Fersen is just the over-romantic lover who had been pining for his love. For a moment Marie realises she probably should not be cheating on her husband and backs away. Fersen however, is the one to make further advances, actively pulling her back to his side.

When he embraces Marie you see how he is just dreaming and indulging, something Furusen would never do. Furusen might hug Marie, but not without sh*tting 50 colours. 1789′s Fersen is the sweeping Romeo that most of history makes him to be, and little more. But again, Fersen plays but a very small role in 1789, so it is also unfair to compare him to MA’s Fersen.

Regardless of whatever nuance might or might not be there however, it is also just quite hard to like this Fersen because he is ‘just another privileged aristocrat who is just needy’. When making out with Marie in Palais Royale they find out that Ronan fell asleep there drunk. Ronan simply complained that Marie was too loud and woke him, and Fersen immediately shuts him up, and then draws his sword at him for ‘speaking rudely’.

First of all Fersen and Marie, if you’re gonna do a clandestine meeting, you CHECK your surroundings. Second of all, FERSEN Ò.Ó, this peasant is untrained and weaponless; you can’t just unleash your high-ranking martial arts at him with a shiny sword. This is EXACTLY the reason the revolution happened; the people were sick of the suppression of the powerless by the powerful. UGHUM. It truly is mind-blowing to consider how 1789 Fersen and MA Fersen are both...Fersens.

This Fersen is not very involved with the revolution from either side. He just proposes to help Marie and the King escape once, but got dismissed immediately. The following time we see him it is in the finale.

There he stands, a knight in shiny armour singing a really hopeful phrase to a relatively upbeat and hopeful music: “do not rely on force, but seek for hope and courage.” Here again unlike with MA’s Fersen, you don’t really feel like this Fersen has experienced anything. It was like he was an employed special guard, told by his boss there’s nothing he needed to do, his boss is dead, and oh wellll, moving on!

Conclusion

Because Marie and Fersen in MA are main characters whose stories are fleshed out, it really is very unfair to compare them to their 1789′s counterparts in a race of ‘who is better’. In the end of the day, 1789′s aim is to sell a spectacle, and it realllly is a phenomenal piece if you’re there for the spectacle. The choreography, songs, stage, everything is masterpiece-level. So if you’re there for the spectacle you get exactly what you went there for. The story and characters however... not so much. If one is more drawn to a direct, glittery spectacle with hands-down-amazing-songs however, they’d probably find Marie and Fersen from 1789 more enjoyable. If you’re into first and impressive impressions, the MA counterparts might demand a BIT too much attention and patience to get into.

Introduction and character analysis Fersen ‘MA’ 2018

Comparative commentary on MA Cast M and Cast A

#Marie Antoinette #Hans Axel von Fersen #Fersen #MA #1789 #comparative commentary #TOHO #musical #1789 les amants de la bastille

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