#i simply think. women should be able to sing. and not immediately be compared to other women who sing. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mileawrites · 3 years

Text

Baby

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Warnings: some angst in the beginning I guess, fluff, proof read but mistakes could still be there

Summary: Oh for her he would do whatever. He is whipped. The question is if she is as whipped as him.

Inspiration: a freaking Justin Bieber Song called Baby, technically I got the inspiration from a girl singing the bold lines in this work, I do not have the Tik Tok saved though

Word count: about 2.500 (whoopsie)

_____________________

A week ago:

Oh for you I would have done whatever and I just can‘t believe we ain‘t together

Bucky watched her from the kitchen as she talked about something to Natasha and Wanda that excited her. Her whole face lit up and her eyes had that sparkle in them that always appeared when she was excited or simply just happy.

With his super soldier hearing he would have probably heard what she talked about but he was to distracted from how happy she looked. It suited her. Happiness. Bucky would do anything for her to make sure she stays happy. If she had a bad day though, which sometimes is just inevitable, he will make sure to cheer her up. Like watching her favorite movie in pajamas and a ton of snacks with hot cocoa and tiny marshmallows, or a walk in the park at the ass crack of dawn. In any way possible and even if it is embarrassing. He didn‘t care. It didn‘t even matter that Sam would always call him whipped afterwards. He was totally whipped and he knew it. Despite always rolling his eyes so hard they may get stuck in his head and muttering a „Shut up“, there was simply no denying his feelings for this certain girl.

Maybe there are some feeling involved on her part. He was never really sure. Bucky has his insecurities and one definitely was not being sure if he was good for her. Nightmares still disturbing his sleep on many nights. His left arm, although he was more sure of it now because it was not what Hydra once so carelessly put on him. His arm now, it was gifted from Wakanda. Black and gold not silver with a red star and made to help people instead of killing them while being brainwashed. It still made him insecure sometimes. The scars that covered his body that reminded him of his past. He technically knew that she did not mind his arm or his scars. Neither are the nightmares bothering her because if they would she would not help him calm down from the disturbing dreams on so many nights. He has a nightmare, she is there for him. One of the reasons he started to fall for her. Technically he was aware that she would not mind all of these insecurities but it seems like Buckys brain likes to torture him sometimes as if it could not let go from the 70 years of being put into a blender and tortured.

Bucky sometimes heard her heartbeat pick up when being near her or her pupils dilating when they are talking. Signs that she could at least harbor a crush on Bucky. If it would be the 40s he would have already made a move. Something is always stopping him though although he could see some signs of her liking him back. Should that be the case then he simply could not believe they weren‘t together yet. Both being to shy to do something about it.

„Hey Bucky are you with me?“ Sam snapped his fingers infront of Buckys face which he slapped away. „I just told you about the cute girl in the coffee shop“, Sam slightly pushed Buckys shoulder to gain the soldiers attention.

„I absolutely did not pay attention.“ Immediately Sam started to grin and followed Buckys line of view. „Why don‘t you just ask her out? I could be too late soon enough.“ Bucky never snapped his head so fast into Sams direction, for a moment you could think it might have broke. „What do you mean“, the soldier tried to keep his voice from trembling but that did not really work. The Falcon just shrugged his shoulders. „You are whipped. Take a chance before it is too late Buck.“ Bucky rolled his eyes. „First, it‘s Bucky and second, what do you know that I don‘t?“

Slowly the brown haired man started to loose his cool. Could it really be over before anything started? He did not want to miss her in his life. Bucky wasn‘t to sure he would be able to handle a friendship while having to watch the women he liked being in love and happy with someone else. Sam kept his grin on his face.

„I might do.“ With that he left and Bucky was still standing in the kitchen with a sad puppy dog face. He started to drift off in his mind that he did not even notice the girls where not in the living room anymore. Was he too late?

Four days ago:

A week passed and Bucky did not do anything about his feelings for her. Everytime he tried to talk to Y/N about his feelings or a possible date with him, he either stumbled over his words or got interrupted.

When he wanted to ask you on a date it went like this:

„Friday do you know where Y/N is?“ The AI answered immediately, telling him that she is in the kitchen. Bucky thanked Friday, still finding it slightly weird talking to something he could not see.

The 21st century was something he could not have imagined in the slightest back in the day, eventhough he was very interested in what the future technology could bring. Granted this century did not have flying cars like they expected in the 40s but having an artificial intelligence that helps you out is quite fascinating.

Bucky walked int the kitchen and saw Y/N making herself a coffee.

„Oh, hey Buck.“ „Hi Y/N.“ „You want a cup?“ He shook his head no. „No, thank you. I wanted to tell you something though.“

Bucky could not be bothered enough to look around and see NAT making her way into the kitchen.

„Sure what’s up? Are you okay?“ Y/N started to worry slightly. It did sound kind of serious. Bucky noticed her worry and started to smile. She was concerned about him. One more reason to like her. He knows at least that Y/N cares about him.

„Yes don’t worry. I just wanted to“, he stopped talking and started to blush slightly.

Since when did Bucky blush? That never happened in the 40s.

He takes a deep breath, looking into Y/N eyes. A beautiful e/c. He could stare into them for hours as cheesy as it sounds especially with that sparkle they held just now. Y/Ns pupils are dilated.

„I wanted to tell you that-“

„Sorry for interrupting Bucky but I need to make Y/N ready for her date.“

He felt like his heart stopped. So Sam was right but soon definitely was too soon. His shoulders started to slump and he looked away from Y/N.

Nat eyed him and hid a smile. Of course she knew what Bucky and Y/N felt for each other. She would not be a good spy if she wouldn‘t notice her friends looking earth other with heart eyes or how their body language changes when they are around each other. Both were shy though. Therefore Wanda and her planned to get either of them to make a move. Their plan to make Y/N go on dates and let Bucky know may be a little mean but they have three outcomes here.

First, Y/N makes a move because she finally admits that it doesn’t matter on how many dates she goes, neither can compare to a certain blue eyed soldier.

Secon, Bucky realizes that he does not want the young woman to date anyone else an finally finds the courage to say something about his feelings for her.

Third, he one hopefully doesn’t happen, is that neither of them is telling the other what they are feeling and both are going to be sad and unhappy for the rest of their lives. A little bit exaggerated but they need to realize this.

Y/N smiled at Bucky, her eyes sparkling less. „What did you want to say Buck?“ Ignoring Nat for a second.

He looked at Y/N for a split second. Bucky shook his head slightly and runs a hand through his brown hair. „Forget it. Have fun with your date.“ He smiled lightly and left.

Y/N called after him but he did not turn around. She was even more concerned now. What did he want to tell her? Why did he seem so sad now?

„Maybe this date is not a good idea Nat?“

The spy shook her head. „Nonsense. Let’s go.“ Y/N got ushered out of the kitchen into the direction of her own room.

„I‘ll go get Wanda.“ Nat disappeared and Y/N sat down on her bed.

She kept thinking about Bucky. Hopefully he was okay. Did he have nightmares again? No that they ever fully stopped. The h/c woman made a mental note to ask Bucky if he would like to have one of their movie nights. The ones without the team. Just them two. She liked being alone with Bucky, cuddled up to him while watching some movies. Cuddles with Bucky is not something that you could take for granted. When the sergeant came first to the compound he did not let anyone apart from Steve get close to him or touch him even though he was touch starved. Y/N slowly but surely showed him she is not going to hurt him and would you look at that, he opened up and they got close especially during movie nights. With the team it took Bucky a little bit longer to get used to touches but to Y/Ns he got comfortable quite fast.

The door opened and Nat, followed by Wanda, entered.

„Are you excited“, Wanda asked.

Y/N took a second to think. Well, it is someone she does not know. Nat set her up with him and meeting new people always sparks her anxiety. She shrugged her shoulders and sighed. „I am not to sure about it.“

The other girls shared a look that Y/N did not see. „Well-“ Wanda started but Y/N was starting to get lost in her head, thinking about the ex-assasin.

Yesterday:

And I wanna play it cool but I’m loosing you

Three days later and Bucky was still sad that his chance with Y/N might have slipped through his ingers. He did not ask about the date she had, afraid she actually enjoyed being with the other guy. Not that she did not deserve it but he wanted her. Badly.

the soldier was sitting in the Irving room trying to read a book Steve recommended. Yesterday Steve told him to just talk to Y/N. It may not be as bad as Bucky made it out to be. The man did not take his friends advice. But fate had another plan.

„Hey pretty boy.“ Bucky looked up and saw Y/N entering the living room. Immediately he started to smile.

„Doll“, he greeted her.

„What are you doing?“ She sat next to him.

„Reading.“ „Obviously. Do you maybe want to stop reading and watch a movie with me?“ She gave her best puppy dog look.

Bucky stared at her, getting lost in her eyes for a second. As if he could ever say no to her. Something stopped him though, remembering a conversation he heard his morning. Bucky sears he was not eavesdropping, he just overheard a conversation between the Black Widow and Scarlett Witch.

He got that sad look in his eyes again, something Y/N noticed immediately. „Don‘t you have a date today?“

The woman looked at him surprised, wondering how he knew. „I canceled the date Buck.“

And suddenly Bucky felt mor alive than ever. She what? Why did she cancel? „Why?“

„I wanted to hand out with you pretty boy. We haven’t in a whil and I miss you.“ She started to slightly lean into the soldiers body. „You do?“ Bucky never saw anyone nod their head yes that hard.

„Of course. You are important to me.“ The 100 something year olds heart skipped a beat. Luckily his body had the serum to not make hi have a heart attack.

Time to be honest. To take his chance. „I honestly thought I was loosing you, doll.“ Confused Y/N looked at him and took his metal arm. „We haven’t hung out in a while and maybe that’s alsokind of my fault but you were going on dates and I tried playing it cool but I am so not cool with it? I kind of feel like I am loosing you.“

The sergeant didn’t think Y/Ns e/c eyes could sparkle even more. She had a smile on her beautiful face.

„No.“ „No?“ The woman shook her head. „You are not loosing me and I am not dating anyone.“

Now it was the soldiers turn to be confused and he interlaced his fingers with hers. He loved that she took his left arm, no being afraid at all.

„But the dates you went on?“

She put her free hand on his face and he leaned into her hand. Suddenly overcoming with the courage to tell Bucky her feelings for him. This is it. Her heart is beating so fast she is afraid it might jump out of her chest. Also, her hand started to sweat slightly.

„Neither of them are you. Nat and Wanda set me up with them. You are not loosing me Bucky. You always have me, if you want me.“

Now his eyes started to sparkle the second he registered Y/Ns words. Blue eyes looking so light and full of love and admiration, mirroring the eyes of the woman infront of him. Slowly his whole face lights up. Bucky brings their interlaced hands to his face and kisses her Nuckels.

„Of course I want you. You have me, doll.“

Slowly they start to lean in and softly their lips meet. A kiss that was long overdue. It is filled with love and gentleness.

„Finally, oh my god.“ Nats voice startled the pair and made them break the kiss.

Wanda and Nat were standing in the living room, grinning at them both. Steve, Sam and Tony also appeared.

„Why are you two smiling like idiots“, Tony asked.

„Nats and mine plan worked.“ The attention was suddenly on Bucky an Y/N. Still with interlaced fingers and Y/Ns hand on Buckys face. the newly couple looking confused.

„Plan?“ Y/N and Bucky spoke at the same time, laughing lightly when they noticed.

„Yes. These two made you, Y/N go on dates. So either one of you confesses their feelings for the other. Apparently it worked.“

„You knew Steve?“ Bucky looked at his childhood friend. „I was in on the plan.“

„It was exhausting to watch the both of you pinning over the other and neither doing anything“, Sam said.

„Your welcome“, Wanda and Nat spoke, smiled, turned around and left.

Wanda quickly adding while walking that she wants to be one of the bridesmaids at their wedding and Nat agreeing. The guys went for the kitchen.

Today:

Bucky and Y/N walked through the Central Park. It was a little before 6 am.

„You like getting up early, Doll.“ „It‘s nice and quiet early. We could always sleep more afterwards.“

Bucky kissed her cheek and put an arm around her as they kept walking. It was quiet. Y/N was right and he loved it as well. Sleep be damned if he could spent his time with his best girl.

Oh for you I will do whatever and I just can‘t believe we are together

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Authors note:

So, this is the first piece I have written in a long time. I am not to sure about it but I just liked writing it.

Feedback is appreciated as long as you are not being mean. Tell me what you think if you read this. :)

#bucky barnes x you #marvel x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #fanfic #mileawrites #james buchanan bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #james barnes x female reader #reader insert

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krreader · 4 years

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BTS reacting to your daughter wanting to become an idol.

pairing: bts x reader fandom: bts warnings: language genre: angst ; fluff word count: 2k+

a/n: sooo, I wasn’t sure if you wanted the main argument to be the dieting, but I feel like there are a lot more reasons why they’d be worried, so I hope you don’t mind me only putting diets as one of the many reasons. nevertheless, I hope you like it ♥

kim seokjin

“We were seven men and we had our own struggles. What do you think happens when it's seven women who are constantly getting compared to each other?” Jin stood in front of your daughter with his arms crossed in front of his chest, “Do you know what's going to happen? They're going to say things like: 'Oh, you've gained more weight than her, you need to be put on a diet now'.”

“I'll deal with that if it comes down to it, dad, but I'm old enough to know what I'll be putting myself through and I'm making this decision with or without your approval,” she got up and copied his pose and once again, you could see that she truly was his daughter.

You got up with a sigh, standing between the two before the argument could escalate any further.

“We're worried and you know we have every reason to be. So how about we make a deal. You do your thing, you agree and join the company, but your father is allowed to monitor everything.”

“What, like I'm a baby?! I'm 16!”

“No, like a manager,” you turned around to look at your husband, “You've been itching to work in the industry again as well, just differently this time, this would be the perfect opportunity. Sira could become the idol she wants to be without having to worry about much, because you'll take care of her like the father that you are and the manager that you could be.”

It certainly was an odd proposal, there weren't many idols that were managed by their parents, but it has happened every now and then.

And it was something that both Jin and your daughter were ultimately okay with, because they both got their ways, even if not exactly how they thought they would.

min yoongi

“Aren't you... going to say anything?” your daughter pushed her food around, her eyes on her father who wasn't looking at her at all.

You were feeding your baby to your right, your eyes switching from her to him, afraid of what this might turn into.

“So you want to become their slut.”

“Yoongi!” you immediately complained.

“No, (Y/N),” Yoongi looked up, first at you, then at your daughter, “You have no idea how fucked up this industry really is. Why do you think I left when I did? Why do you think I did everything I could to protect you from this life? Do you want to starve yourself for the rest of your life? Do you want to portray a version of yourself that you're not until the day you die?”

“I didn't do anything yet, dad! They just made an offer, I didn't say anything yet!” she was upset, clearly, “I'm sorry, I should have just said no.”

But when she started sobbing, Yoongi's hard shell broke down immediately and his shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh.

“Listen, I know you love music, but becoming an idol is not the way to go. If you're serious about music, I can help you get in touch with the right people, people that won't use you like the agencies would in a position of as an idol.”

She nodded, even though she was still crying.

Later that night, you ended up joining her in her bed, holding her close while explaining to her why Yoongi had been so upset. Why he was so scared for her and that he didn't do this to punish her, but simply to protect her.

And thankfully, she understood.

jung hoseok

“How much sleep do you get nowadays?” Hoseok asked.

“I don't know.. seven to nine hours?”

“Forget that. You'll get four if you're really lucky, two on a normal day and none if you have comebacks. How much do you weigh right now?”

“Why are you asking me this?” your daughter clearly became uncomfortable.

“Because they will be asking you. They will want to know whether to put you on a diet or not because you are 'too fat' for this industry.”

You let out a frustrated sigh and cupped your daughter's face, “He's not sugarcoating it like I would have, but he's right. This industry isn't as beautiful as you think it is and your father has seen it up close, so he’s not just saying these things to scare you off,” you kissed her forehead, “I know that you're currently in a stage of your life where you don't know what step is the next to take and I know that it's scary not to know, but please do not make any rash decisions and sign any contracts. Think about this... carefully.”

She did... because you didn't raise her to be naive and stupid.

kim namjoon

“Do you know why we disbanded, sweetheart?” Namjoon's voice was gentle, his eyes on his other daughter picking flowers in the garden.

“You... never really went into details about that,” but she was instantly curious and straightened her back, crossing her legs on the bench that she was sitting on.

“At that time, we reached the peak of our careers. There truly was nowhere else to go, but people still expected us to go higher and reach for more stars. But we were exhausted. We were.. depressed,” Namjoon's eyes flickered to you, since you had been the one to pull him out of that dark place once, “What me and your uncles have accomplished will forever be something I will cherish, but it is not a life I would wish for you. The never ending diets, the never ending stress and expectations... it's... horrible.”

“But there's perks too, right? I mean, you had amazing fans.”

“We did. And then we also had the ones that stalked us. The ones that sent us creepy letters. The ones that threatened to hurt our loved ones,” finally, he turned his head to look at her, “You and your sister should not grow up in a world like this. I want you to be able to eat what you want to eat without someone telling you that it has too many calories. I want you to be able to sleep in on the weekends after a long week of hard work. I want you to be able to go on vacations with your friends without having to worry for your safety. Do you understand what I mean?”

She didn't respond right away, but ultimately she smiled a little and nodded, “I understand, daddy.”

And boy, did you both let out a relieved sigh.

park jimin

“No,” Park Jimin was not the kind of father to say no without giving a reason, especially because he hardly could say no to his first and only daughter, the apple of his eye. But when she asked him about her possibly getting into BigHit, he instantly shut her down.

“But..-” her eyes widened, her lower lip already beginning to tremble and you, being stuck in the middle, turned your head to Jimin with a small smile, “Can you check up on Seungmin? Tell him it's almost dinner time.”

Jimin knew that you handling this conversation would be better anyways, so he did end up walking outside to check up on his son, while you turned around to your daughter and grabbed her hands, “Your father had a great life. He had a wonderful career that he doesn't regret having, but the wonderful things that you see online and hear from fans and friends and family... it wasn't always like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“When your father made his debut, he ended up struggling... a lot. Not because he wasn't good at singing, or dancing.. but because he felt like his face was too chubby. He felt like his abs weren't good enough. He felt like his legs didn't look strong enough,” when she looked confused, you kept on talking, “He went on one diet after the other and went days without eating anything, just because he felt like he had to. Now, imagine him having been a woman. And I really hate saying this in a modern time as this, but the world isn't as lenient with us as it is with men, and your father knows it, sweetheart. If one fan were to ever mention that you're one gram too heavy, the company would take it to heart and put you on a diet. And not just a diet for a week, a diet for a month, maybe a year. Your father has experienced this first hand and he just doesn't want you to live a life such as this too,” especially because she had inherited his beautiful cheeks from him and so he was worried that she’d go through the same things just because of that wonderful detail.

She hadn't known about this, because if she had, she never would have brought it up.

And after that day, after thinking about what you had said once again and after actually looking up what you had said and confirming it all, she never brought it up ever again.

And Jimin was more than glad about that.

kim taehyung

You both should have assumed that this would happen at some point.

Not only because of who Taehyung is and used to be, but because of who your daughter was. Confident, breathtakingly beautiful and talented. Of course, she'd want to pursue a career in a field such as this one.

“Listen,” Taehyung brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “You know your mother and I support you, no matter what you want to do, but this life that you're envisioning right now is not the life that you'll have.”

“He's right, sweetheart,” you sighed, “You are already struggling with keeping your life private, if you join BigHit, it'll get even worse. Then there's crazy fans, more so for you because of who your father used to be. And the diets.. the never ending diets..”

“I know you're worried and I can't blame you for it,” she grabbed her fathers hand and pulled it to her cheek, leaning against it, “But whatever happens, I know you two will have my back. That's why I want to do this, because I know that no matter what, I can always come back here and get my slice of normality and love.”

It... kind of made you really proud to hear that, even if it didn’t decrease your worries.

jeon jeongguk

BigHit had been trying to get Jeongguk to sign up your daughter ever since she was old enough to walk and talk, but he had always denied them.

Now, however, she was old enough to make her own decisions, and her saying yes, didn't come as a surprise to either of you.

“Don't you think there's a reason I kept telling them off?” Jeongguk was angry. Angry at BigHit, angry at his daughter and most importantly, angry at himself that he didn't put a stop to this once and for all, “Do you want to starve yourself for the rest of your life to be the perfect doll that they want you to be?”

But instead of yelling back, she actually listened to every little bad thing that he had to say.

Only when he let out a frustrated sigh and dropped down on the couch next to her, did she speak: “I know this isn't what either of you wanted for me and I'm sorry I'm worrying you like this, especially you dad, but this is my life and my decision.”

You decided to join in, your hand on your daughter's lower back, “It's not that we wouldn't support you, but this life is hard. We're just scared for you.”

“I know, mom,” but she was stubborn and so with one last glance at her father, she said: “I'm sorry, daddy, but it’s what I’m going to do,” and got up to go into her room.

All that Jeongguk could do now was keep BigHit in check. Every little thing they wanted to do to your daughter had to go through him.

She didn't know about this and he made sure that she never would... but it was the only way that Jeongguk would allow this to happen.

#bts imagine #bts x reader #bts reaction #bts scenario #bangtan x reader #bangtan imagine #bangtan reaction #bangtan scenario #bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #reader #requests

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poptod · 4 years

Text

Say My Name (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: You’re a harpist that gets noticed by the Prince, to your own terror. The prince is only trying to get your affection - but you simply won’t break the rules. You won’t even say his name. After all, it’s not allowed.

Prompt: Harp

Notes: Okay so recently (just now) I realized I can post my long fics! When I first came to Tumblr I couldn’t post them due to length, but now I can! I used to write big, long fics all the time, but it turns out people prefer smaller, more frequent fics, and since it takes me around three weeks to churn one of these babies out I’ll probably stick to my shorter fics. Gender neutral again, your name is Nour for historical reasons :) Also, I wrote this before I found out how Ahk was killed, so apologies. Enjoy!

AO3 Link: Say My Name

Word Count: 11.9k

It wasn’t your place to say a thing. In fact, if you did say a thing, you might get punished for it. Yet that was the partial beauty of him - if you mentioned your observations to him, and him alone, he would take it in stride. You hadn’t ever spoken to him before, never met him, but you’d heard rumours. Still, you continued playing your instrument, avoiding his gaze.

Celebrations such as this (a birthday) were one of your favorite things to do, despite how stressful they were. Constant pressure from superiors, a near command to memorize complicated music. Oftentimes, you felt you hadn’t picked the right career. Other times, you saw yourself doing nothing else.

The prince continued to stare at you, his gaze menacing. He hardly ever looked at you like that, or anyone for that matter. It led you to the conclusion that most likely, he was not directing his anger at you, which only raised more questions.

You were not allowed to leave in order to eat, or drink, or take a break. You and your ‘band’ were the best players that the palace had; thus the orders were to play till the last guest left. Because of this order, you could not ask the prince. You shouldn’t anyway, you knew that very well. You weren’t even supposed to look at him. Yet with such piercing eyes set upon you, it was a little hard to follow orders.

The birthday celebrations lasted long into the night, and you continued to play until the last guest left, leaving only the royal family. A mother and a father, friendly in stature and cruel in rulings, an elder son looking highly displeased, and a younger son, deep in thought.

“You may stop,” the Queen told you, and you did not meet her eye. You bowed low, packing your instruments up.

“Harpist,” the prince’s voice called you, and you turned, eyes fixated on the floor. It was beginning to look very interesting. “I’d like to discuss some things with you,” he said. His mother whispered something to him, and he whispered back, louder, though still indiscernible.

“Yes, my prince,” you said, bowing. You turned back around, eyes wide, face red with embarrassment. You finished packing up, and as your friends left, they pat you on the shoulders comfortingly. A weak way of apologizing for whatever fate you were about to face.

The prince turned down a hallway, golden robe trailing behind him. You looked around confused. Were you to follow him? His mother quickly gestured at him, frowning at you. You bowed quickly, following him down the hallway.

Torches lined the painted walls, giving light to the stories that had been etched there. Your eyes followed the stories, the marvelous art that you hardly ever got to see in your daily life. Eventually he turned into a room, and you followed, your instrument still in its’ case by your side.

He turned quickly around to you, watching as you set the case down. He caught your eye, and your eyes zipped down to the floor.

“No, don’t do that,” he said, practically floating over, lifting you by the chin so you could meet his eyes.

You’re pretty sure you might’ve blacked out for a good two seconds. You weren’t allowed to know what he looked like. You weren’t supposed to see his face, and by all that was holy you were not supposed to touch him.

“I need your advice,” he said, now heading towards the balcony. You did not follow him, thinking it would suffice that you could hear him from the large doorway. He did not seem to agree, as he beckoned you over. You bowed your head a little, following his command, soon standing at his side.

“Do you have any siblings?” He asked you, looking up at the sky. You stared at the ground as you spoke.

“No, my prince,” you answered simply, addressing him properly.

“Do not call me that,” he said firmly, and you watched as his hands gripped tighter around the edge of the balcony. You took a deep breath, feeling your body shake. “You may simply refer to me by my name.”

You nodded, though didn’t fully process his request.

“My brother,” he started quietly, tensing and intending his muscles. “I am worried he will do something rash. What do you suppose I should do?”

Why in the world was he asking you for advice?

“Pardon my questioning,” you said, knowing you shouldn’t at all be asking this, “but why do you request my advice? I am just a citizen.”

“That is exactly why,” he said, and he turned to face you. Knowing the demand before he pronounced it, you looked at him. You hoped the fear was not evident on your face.

“Why would the prince do something rash?” You inquired, tightening your grip on the railing.

“He has been angry recently. I’m not sure why, but when he gets angry for long periods of time, he tends to end up murdering people,” he said quickly, intaking a shaky breath.

“I think you’re stressed,” you said before you thought about it. He turned to you, looking a little surprised.

Ah, so this was how you were going to die.

“I suppose you’re right,” he mumbled, looking to the ground as if he were ashamed. Why would he be ashamed in front of you?

He looked back up at you.

“Do you have any suggestions for stress relief?”

“My prince, I really do not believe this is appropriate-“

“My name?” He asked of you, and hesitantly, you obeyed.

“Ahkmen, this isn’t appropriate,” you told him flat out, no more beating around the bush. He nodded in agreement.

“Fun things are seldom ever appropriate,” he said with a smirk, grabbing your wrist and leading you back into the room. You might’ve blacked out again. He led you to his bed, where he sat, making sure you stood exactly in front of him. He grabbed both your hands, holding them in his.

“Would you mind playing your harp again, for me? A private performance,” he asked quietly, a tenderness you didn’t expect very apparent in his eyes. Hesitantly you nodded, releasing yourself from his grip and wandering over to your case. You took it out, wondering where you could sit in order to play it. Deciding against asking for a seat, or heavens forbid sitting next to him, you kneeled on the ground. The rounded end of the harp let it fall onto your left shoulder, and you plucked out a melody. The sharp and staccato sound was pleasant to your ears, but you’d heard a great deal of it already that night. You took some liberty, changing up a few of the tunes and chords, stroking the strings a tad different than usual.

“You play beautifully,” he commented near the end of your piece. You smiled up at him, before directing your attention back to the music, not wanting to lose concentration.

“Do you sing as well?” He asked, moving to lie back against the pillows of his bed. You shrugged. Yes, you sang, but you weren’t a singer. You told him this, and he told you to sing for him.

“If you don’t mind,” he added at the end. You nodded once more, starting on a lullaby that you knew very well. It was comparatively short next to your last piece, and when you finished, he asked you where you had picked it up.

“My mother used to sing it to me,” you informed him quietly, putting the harp back into its’ case.

“My mother sang me songs sometimes. Oftentimes it was other women,” he said, sitting up properly. “Sit next to me,” he asked of you, and you obeyed. There was no hesitation in your movements, realizing at this point he was trying to make your life difficult by bending rules that you didn’t have a desire to bend. The faster you listened to him and obeyed, the faster the night would end, and the faster you’d be able to breathe again.

“Spend the night with me,” he requested. You felt yourself mentally draw the line right there.

“That is not appropriate, my prince, I must leave now,” you said, hands shaking and voice reverberating your fear into him. You immediately stood up, briskly walking over to the door where your harp lay safely in its’ case.

“At least let me say good bye,” he said hurriedly, getting up after you. He grabbed your wrist before you could reach your case, pulling you towards him. You turned to face him, bright red and highly embarrassed.

“I will see you again,” he said, and your eyes immediately directed to his lips. He raised your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles, watching you intently the entire time. You stopped breathing momentarily.

“G - good bye,” you said quickly, pulling your hand away, grabbing your harp, and leaving. You avoided the stares of palace workers and officials as you left, keeping your head down as you were taught to, until you reached more common streets.

You blacked out once you reached home, collapsing onto your bed.

Two days later, you’d achieve the same state of terror, or more, as you had two nights before. Palace guards showed at your door, giving you a notice that you were to present yourself to the royal family. Your roommate congratulated you, but you felt the opposite reaction was called for. Stress such as this was not a thing you handled easily.

Nevertheless, you presented yourself, with your instrument, as they had told you. A man you did not know, dressed extravagantly, informed you that you were to become a private musician for one of the princes. You nodded, sort of expecting that.

You respected the royal family. It wasn’t that which made you sour, or the fact that your servants quarters were shared with four other people when you originally lived with only one other person. You didn’t mind leaving your possessions behind.

Your problem was that you could get caught. The prince was the one being rash, doing things he aught not to do, things that could get him punished and you killed. Unfortunately, you had a thing about death, where you sort of didn’t want to die. Sounded a painful, unpleasant experience all around.

Later that evening, after mulling about in your new room alone, you were ordered to the young princes room. They never spoke his name, you noticed, and you realized how much worse that made the fact that you had called him by his name at least once.

You knocked once on the door, it being loud enough that you didn’t feel the need to knock again. A voice from inside called, ‘come in,’ so you let yourself in, announcing your presence with what was left of your dignity and professionalism.

He didn’t wear his cape or crown, but he kept his skirt and sported a light shawl.

“My prince,” you said simply, bowing. He chuckled, nearing you. You stood straight once again, keeping your eyes on the ground.

“Good to see you came back instead of running away. I told you I’d see you again.”

“What do you need, my prince?”

He frowned slightly, leading you further into the room.

“I thought we got over the formalities last night,” he commented sadly, still holding your wrists.

“What am I here for?” You asked once more. He sighed, giving in to your question.

“I told my parents about your music. They suggested you live here so you can help me with my, uh, stress, when needed. I thought it to be a good enough idea, and besides,” he leaned in a bit closer, “I wanted to see you again.”

“Are you currently stressed?” You asked, observing him with a calculated look. You shoved your emotions as far down as you could, hoping that would help for this evening.

“Yes, I’m afraid my brother has been a continuous worry to me,” he said, stepping away from you, beginning to pace the room. “He accuses me of awful things, and because it would be shameful for him to physically harm me, he has begun harming our servants and slaves. It’s painful to watch, and I can’t do anything about it. If I do, I will seem unfit to be royal, and I may be cast out. I can’t risk that.”

“Have you tried asking him what’s wrong?”

“I can’t do that. I thought of it, but he’s closed off, and even if he would tell someone he would never tell me. I don’t think he trusts me.”

“The trust of cowards is not something worthy to gain,” you said distractedly, looking at the patterned ceiling.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said, stopping his pacing. “You’re really quite intelligent, aren’t you?” He neared you, standing in front of you again. You hadn’t moved from your position near the door.

“I have my uses,” you said, and he laughed, his smile delicate and very unlike who he currently presented himself as. You felt yourself weaken for a moment.

“Would you mind singing to me again?”

“Of course, my prince,” you replied, kneeling to open your case. He held a finger beneath your chin, raising your head to look at him. He towered above you in this position, a general air of dominance that made you shiver emanated from him.

“My name?” He asked quietly, his kind voice betraying his commanding exterior.

“Of course, Ahkmen,” you repeated yourself, weaker. He smiled, and left to lie on the bed. You resumed pulling out the harp, taking once more your kneeling position on the floor, the harp falling on your shoulder as you plucked at the strings. You tapped your foot to the beat, making sure that you didn’t lose your count. Every now and then you’d look up to the prince, watching his expression for any sign of displeasure. Each time he showed none, so you continued.

“What’s your name, harpist?” He asked, interrupting your playing. You shook your head a bit, getting back on track. You continued to play as you answered.

“Nour,” you said simply, concentrating deeply.

“Beautiful name,” he said quietly, sighing as he relaxed back into his bed once more. You took a deep breath, calming yourself as you kept playing. A few minutes later, he stood, walking up to you. He paused your playing, asking that you put your harp down. As always you obeyed.

“Come with me,” he said, and you again followed him. He led you out the door, and down a back hallway. The paintings on the walls disappeared, and eventually all the torches faded away. He continued leading you down more and more complex hallways, the structures confusing you. It hit you then that it would be very easy to trap you here, and that if someone wanted to kill you here, it wouldn’t be that hard. But, if the prince wanted to kill you, he could’ve done it in broad daylight.

You continued walking behind him until a small doorway appeared, lit up by the moonlight. You jogged a bit to catch up, watching him disappear down steps.

“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” He called back to you, now practically running down the steps. You watched him, his eyes glued upon the river in the distance. He began running, you trailing after, weaving through the reeds that grew on the banks of the water. Eventually he stopped at the rivers edge, the sandy shore riding just above his sandals. You stopped beside him, panting, crouched down slightly. You weren’t used to exerting yourself physically. Apparently, he was.

“My prince, you must be careful, you don’t know what kind of animals could sneak up on you,” you panted, finally standing to your full height beside him. He looked at you, laughing.

“Don’t worry, much of this stretch is harmless. Too narrow to truly be a resting spot for anything dangerous,” he informed you, stepping out into the river. You froze, eyes wide as you watched him. As he continued, the water only came up to his mid calf, soaking his pants.

“Join me,” he said to you, facing you with a hand outstretched. You clenched your hands into fists, thinking about how awfully wrong all this was. You weren’t supposed to be here, not with him, certainly not by yourself, and you weren’t supposed to look at him. You weren’t supposed to touch him. He wasn’t supposed to deal with sorts like you. Lowly sorts.

You took his hand. Barely laying your fingers in his before he curled them tightly around yours, pulling you in. You stumbled slightly, regaining your balance in the water as it splashed up your legs. The moon reflected brightly in the water, but despite this you couldn’t see much of the details of his face. You could tell that he smiled though, his laughter echoing in the silent lands. However much you knew this to be wrong, you smiled with him, warm water coming up to your legs.

“See? Nothing wrong,” he said quietly, pulling you in closer and grabbing your other hand in his. All ease slipped away, and you choked up, staring petrified at him.

“We shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be doing this,” you said, voice high and shaky.

“Shouldn’t be doing what? Enjoying myself?” He raised a single eyebrow at you, judging you with a funny look in his eye. He was smiling.

Your fears came pouring out. They filled your entirety, boiling beneath your skin and itching to come out, like a rash upon your tongue.

“You shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be talking with you, I shouldn’t look at you, I shouldn’t touch you, I-“

“It’s not your fault. If anyone is to put blame on us, it will fall solely on me, I will make sure of it,” he told you quietly, an attempt to calm your fears.

“And what will happen to you then? You’ll be punished,” you choked out, feeling your throat swell up.

“All worth it to spend time with you,” he whispered, drawing ever closer. You took a step back, the water splashing up the back of your legs.

“Why are you so invested in me?” You asked, trying weakly to pull your hands out of his grip. He did not let go.

“Your playing enchants me, and the way you refuse to, well… bond with me, I suppose, is intriguing. Most people I’ve met jump at the chance to form a sort of relationship with me. Simply because of my standing,” he explained quietly.

You hardly believed people only associated with him because of rank. He happened to also be an incredibly nice person, as well as truthful and sincere unlike any royalty you’d met before. Not only that, despite what you continuously told yourself, he was very handsome.

“I hardly believe it’s only because of your royalty,” you said, voicing only half your thoughts.

“Why’s that?” He asked quickly, leaning in further, pulling you closer. He looked desperate, curious for your answer. You breathed deeply. He smelled of perfume. Of course.

“You’re one of the more benevolent royalty that I’ve met,” you said simply, not meeting his eyes. His eyes however, did not waver from yours, attention directly on you. Your skin felt hot beneath his touch.

“Is that why you won’t say my name?” He came chest to chest with you, the words from his mouth heating your cheek beyond what was comfortable.

“My prince, I am only here to play music for you,” you breathed out, weak and indecisive. Your gaze stay fixed on his shoulder and past, to the river shining behind him.

“You are here to help with my stress. That’s your job specification, and you’re doing a terrible job at it,” he laughed, his body swaying slightly.

“I think I would be better at it if you didn’t put me in stressful situations,” you retorted before you could think. Eyes widening upon reflection of what you just said, your breath caught in your lungs. An unpleasant tingle shivered through your legs, making you weaker than you already were.

“Don’t worry so much and you’ll be fine. I have to say you’re doing a wonderful job distracting me from my brother,” he told you, continuing to sway, moving your arms back and forth in some mock form of a dance. “Enjoy yourself,” he said, leaning in and whispering the words against your ear. You blacked out for two seconds again, before blinking, looking to his face, his eyes attracting you immediately.

He was scanning your face, a concentrated look in his eyes. He blinked a few times, sighing, before letting go of your hands.

“Let’s go back to the palace,” he said quietly, turning and leaving you calf deep in the water.

The sick pit in your stomach began feeling worse the longer you spoke with the prince. After three full moons had come and gone, you came to a comparison. It was a terrible comparison to make, and you’d never, ever voice it, but you felt as though you were being tempted by a demon. Play for him. Look into his eyes. Touch him just a little more. Call him by his name. Lean into the temptations and be damned for eternity, but stay away and you’ll suffer heartache worse than death.

You decidedly never crossed the border of touching him in any sort of way - no, anything that happened in accordance with that was entirely his fault. You never called him by his name. You tried your best not to look into his eyes, in fear of losing yourself within them. They swirled gold and foreign delicacies, new and familiar all at once.

You didn’t dare look at him.

“Perhaps if you become my advisor, I will be able to see you more often,” he pondered, staring up at the ceiling. He was lying next to you, in a pile of blankets of pillows, arms crossed behind his head. You played your harp quietly, not wanting to disturb his thoughts too much.

“You want to spend more time with me?” You asked quietly, astounded. You weren’t exactly an incredibly interesting person.

“Of course. You’re intelligent too, so it’s not like you’d give me terrible advice. The position wouldn’t just be for show,” he added at the end, looking up at you, before resuming his study of the ceiling.

“I do not believe commoners can become royal advisors. Or should, in the very least,” you said, trying to continue your concentration on your playing. You plucked a few wrong notes as the conversation continued. He didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s possible, and it’s not like you have to be a vizier or anything. That’d only happen if I became pharaoh, which would only happen if my older brothers died, which they hopefully do not,” he said, continuing on to describe what your life would be like if you became his advisor. You had a thought, but waited till he finished his spiel.

“My prince, is it not a bit redundant for you to have an advisor? You’re not making any political decisions, and-“

“Think of it more as a personal assistant,” he interrupted, looking up at you hopefully. You sighed tiredly, but nodded. He was quiet for a while after that, so you could continue playing in peace.

You were informed the next day that your job had been changed from ‘stress reliever’ to ‘personal servant/advisor,’ and that your quarters would be moved nearer to the princes’. It was quite the step up in the world, which was the last thing you needed, but the prince seemed to think otherwise. You were treated with an ounce more of respect, and at first you weren’t sure what to do with it, and your confusion only got worse throughout the day.

Apparently, when you’re someone’s personal servant/advisor (a job that has never existed before) you have to accompany said person everywhere they go. This included meetings, meals (where you weren’t allowed to eat), as well as important openings, surveying building and planting, and a good amount of educational programs.

Overall, a very tiring day, and you were very much ready to collapse when the moon finally shone.

You accompanied the prince back to his room, wondering how he kept his energy up. You quickly answered the question for yourself, remembering that he’d been doing it his entire life.

He must’ve noticed your state, dragging behind him but keeping your posture up despite.

“Are you alright Nour?” He asked, stopping and turning around to face you. You quickly nodded, trying to keep your eyes open. He looked doubtful however, eyeing you suspiciously.

“You don’t have to play for me tonight if you are this exhausted,” he comforted, resting a hand on your shoulder and trying to give you a sincere look. You didn’t look at him, still too afraid. Especially now, in public, with his hand on your shoulder, where anyone could see.

“I am able to play,” you said, shaking your head a bit, trying to clear out the drowsiness. He continued looking at you skeptically, but allowed you to enter his room, you once again taking your harp from its’ case. He sat in his new pile of pillows and blankets, closing his eyes, and losing himself in your playing. You blinked slowly, feeling a warm, fuzzy blanket come over your thoughts. Despite this you continued playing, trying your best to concentrate. Unfortunately you must’ve made some mistake, because you felt a hand on your wrist, and a voice penetrating the warm blanket that had come over your eyes.

“Nour, go to sleep,” he said, and you opened your eyes, your consciousness falling immediately into his warm and worried eyes. The whole world still felt fuzzy, as though you were half in a dream, the only thing fully grounding you being his hand around your wrist.

“I can play,” you said thickly, the words sounding as though they came from far away, but reverberated in your empty chest.

“No you can’t-“

You closed your eyes, just to blink, but ended up doing a lot more than that. You fell straight asleep, flopping forward onto the prince’s shoulder… unfortunately.

When you awoke, it wasn’t your assigned room. You then quickly remembered that you had moved rooms the day before, settling your worries. You were then further worried when you realized you did not own a golden vase, and the blankets you were given certainly weren’t this soft. You sat up quickly, feeling dizzy.

“Good morning,” the prince said with a soft chuckle, smiling at you from his bed. You felt about ready to throw up.

“D- did I fall asleep?” You asked hurriedly, ready to apologize as soon as he confirmed.

“Yes, but it’s not a problem,” he said, stopping you before you started. You gaped at him, horrified.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” You asked, instead of screaming. His eyes widened, glancing sideways as his cheeks darkened. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. You blinked again. Were you seeing this right?

“… I didn’t want to wake you,” he admitted quietly, head dangling embarrassed between his shoulders. You took a deep breath, trying to fully understand the situation.

“Okay. So… you let me sleep in your room all night… because you didn’t want to wake me up?”

He paused before answering.

“… Yeeeesss?”

You got up, dusting yourself off. You waved good bye to him silently, smiling awkwardly, ready to leave.

“Wait, don’t go,” he entreated, his hand moving towards you, still against his bedsheets. You turned to him slowly, practically shaking. You looked him up and down, deciding this was a terrible idea, before turning to leave once more.

“Please,” he murmured, his entire body pleading. You took a deep breath, looking at your feet. A feeble attempt to gather your thoughts. You couldn’t directly disobey him. It was bad enough that you turned away the first time - you didn’t think it possible for royalty to say please, or beg the way he practically was. So you turned back around, looking at him exhausted once more, before walking towards him, standing beside his bed. He smiled brightly up at you, the tenseness in his body completely evaporated.

“You glow perfectly in the morning sun,” he murmured, grabbing your wrist, before venturing up further to your arm. You nearly instinctively pulled away, fear coursing pain through your blood, but you stayed put.

“Inappropriate,” you chided quietly, highly embarrassed.

“I know,” he winked at you, smiling cheekily. You took a deep breath, nearly rolling your eyes.

“Do you know how to ride a chariot?” He asked you out of nowhere, still smiling up at you like you were a dream.

“No, I have no desire to,” you said, knowing that if it were time to fight for your pharaoh, you would physically be unable to fight. Thus, most likely you’d be put on different duty, like planning, or meal prep. The prince, however, looked a bit saddened.

“That’s a shame. I’m going riding today, if you wish I could teach you,” he suggested, tugging your arm lightly.

“Thank you for the offer, but I will stay here instead.”

He offered once more, and you once more declined. Leaving it at that, he redressed into looser clothing.

You stayed in your room for the time he was gone. There wasn’t much for you to do, and you had to stay on call in case someone needed you, so you mostly tried to write new songs. Still slightly new at it, the songs were a tad plain, but you were getting better.

When the sun was near set in the sky, you received a knock at the door. You quickly got up, and a soldier informed you that the prince had returned, and was requesting you in his chambers. You acknowledged, packing your harp up and heading down long hallways to his room.

You knocked, which was met with a small ‘come in.’ When you opened the door, the prince was sitting on his bed as usual, with a large, deep scuff mark on his cheek. You nearly dropped your instrument, staring at the red and black mark.

“No need to be surprised,” he smiled, before wincing and returning to a straight face.

“My prince, doesn’t that need attending to?” You had to physically stop yourself from walking over, digging your nails into the flesh of your leg.

“It’s alright. I fell off the chariot,” he explained, laughing as he thought back. He twitched slightly from pain, letting his face fall again.

“You should clean it in the very least,” you suggested, setting your instrument on the floor. You turned to the door, ready to fetch some water and a cloth.

“You worry too much,” he said as you left, fetching a tight basket of water and an old but clean cloth. You returned a few moments later, setting the supplies on his bed where he sat. He looked at you expectantly, tilting his head slightly. You fidgeted, muscles twitching as you tried to stay calm.

“If you’re so worried, you should do it,” he closed his eyes, ready for you to clean him, “I doubt you’ll accept anyone else doing it.”

You sniffed indignantly, a little ashamed and a little embarrassed. More embarrassed than anything. Nonetheless, you dipped the cloth into the clean water, wringing it out once you pulled it out. You dabbed at his skinned cheek and jaw, trying to make sure it didn’t hurt. The mark reached to his ear, behind the lower part of his crown. You thought of asking him to move it, or moving it yourself.

“Um, my prince, could you remove your crown?” You finally asked hesitantly, still trying to removed the dirt from the visible mark on his cheek. When you removed the rag he nodded, taking off the golden ornament and setting it on the bed. Biting your lip you took a deep breath, once more setting to clean the rest of the scuff.

Finally you dropped the cloth into the water, setting the basket on the floor.

“Done?” He asked, smiling pleasantly at you. In a minute motion you nodded, turning quickly away. You bent down by your instrument, getting ready to play for him once more.

He stared at you for a while as you played, his face straight and his emotions unidentifiable. It put you on edge, as most of the time he was rather see-through. You kept playing despite your worries.

As night came, he did not tell you to stop. You were starting to get a little tired, but you continued playing diligently. The sounds outside the room subsided, silence enclosing the space around and between you and the prince. He shuffled on the bed, lying down, his eyes closed in deep thought.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he said, piercing soft silence that had lasted so long before. In your shock you struck a wrong string, the dissonant sound making you curl in on yourself. However, you didn’t find yourself too surprised - his actions indicated he had to have felt something different with you.

“I am aware,” you said quietly, picking up another piece. You steadied your hands, trying to play the right chords once more.

“In that case,” he said, clearly annoyed at your passiveness, “you should also know I am free to marry who I wish, and I want to marry you.”

He stood, legs swinging off the bed and waltzing over to you. He grabbed your wrist, stopping your playing and pulling you upwards. Your harp shifted, falling to the ground, softened by the pillows surrounding you.

“I want to marry you,” he repeated softly, breath hot against your face. He leaned in close to you, his eyes hooded, desperate for you to just touch him.

“I can’t,” you said hurriedly, the words coming from pure instinct. You felt your hands shaking in his grasp, terrified by the whole situation.

“Why?” He whispered, face contorted near tears. You hummed uncomfortably, a meager sound in automatic reaction to his sadness.

“I have to go,” you rushed out, ripping yourself from his grasp and running out the door.

Why did this keep happening?

Your tiresome night was not to come to an end, as you ran into someone in the hallway. You fell to the ground from the impact, profusely apologizing to whoever it was you hit.

“Aren’t you that servant my brother’s traipsing around with?”

Fuck, this must be the prince’s eldest brother.

You did not meet his eyes, instead keeping your body in a bowed position.

“Yes, my prince, he has requested it,” you answered obediently.

“You’re rather acquiescent, aren’t you? Such a small thing,” he commented, and you felt his stare on the back of your neck, harsh and cruel. He pressed two fingers to the back of your bowed head, pushing you so you looked upwards at him. Out of fear, you allowed him to move you as he wished.

This was your first meeting with the brother you’d heard so much about, and he was nothing like the prince. His eyes pierced you, emotionless and senseless. It made you long for the warmer, welcoming man you had run from.

“Hm. When I become pharaoh,” he spoke as royalty should; proud, and succinct, “I should make you serve me instead. Most of the servants I get are defiant and rude. You’d be quite the change.”

“Yes, my prince,” you said, too afraid to say anything else. Too scared to mention the fact that the prince that currently owned you would not give you up very easily.

Distantly you heard feet running down the hallway, halting before you and the older prince.

“Kahmuh,” you heard him say, voice practically unidentifiable with the vindictiveness in it.

“Ah! Brother, here’s your, uh, thing,” he said, flicking your head towards his brother. After, the older prince turned and left, his stride confident and domineering. The younger rushed to you, kneeling in front of you.

“Did he hurt you?” He grabbed your face, turning it and inspecting for wounds and marks.

“No,” you mumbled, looking down. He was so human compared to his older brother.

“Did he say anything to you?” He inched closer, looking worriedly at you. His hands moved to your shoulders, gripping them tightly.

“He said that… he wanted me to be his servant when he becomes pharaoh, because I’m obedient,” you said hesitantly, hoping that the prince wouldn’t do anything rash in retaliation. Instead he grimaced, and you watched as his muscles tensed.

“If only he knew you’re the exact opposite of that. You just follow rules. You won’t bend them, not for me, and definitely not for him,” he said, his tone bordering on venomous. He helped you up, patting the sides of your arms awkwardly once you stood.

“Spend the night with me?” He asked haltingly, giving you a look of it’s alright if you say no.

“You know I can’t do that,” you answered quietly, hoping to convey that maybe, you wished that you had the confidence to bend the rules just slightly.

“I’ll walk you back to your room,” he said, ceasing all contact with you.

“Do you know where my room is?” You asked, walking beside him, instead of behind.

“Uh… no,” he answered shyly, laughing quietly. You smiled cordially at him. The walk to your room was silent, a few people flitting by but besides that, lonely.

“Thank you, my prince,” you bowed your head respectively, before turning to open your door. He held your hand, keeping you there as he spoke.

“You’re welcome… my love,” he answered gently, letting your hand slide out of his.

You stood outside your door, dumbfounded as he left, watching as he disappeared around a turn.

My love?

Four more full moons passed. Overall, you must’ve been working for him for seven moons, which was quite a while, looking back. A few days ago the Pharaoh and his Queen had announced that the throne would have to be passed soon. You gave them around a year to actually hold to their statement.

It was to your surprise that, a few days later, the Queen called you to her quarters. You had been playing for the young prince, when a messenger directed you away. You bid a quick good bye to the prince, heading where the messenger took you.

Her room was larger, shared with her husband, who was not present. It was only her, pacing back and forth in her room, rubbing her hands together anxiously.

“Harpist, good,” she said, upon noticing you, directing you inside. She sat you on a chair, and you thanked her.

“What do you think of Ahkmen?” She asked you, finally stopping her pacing, looking directly at her. You kept your eyes on her feet, always remembering your place.

“He is a kind man, overtaken with emotion and confused, but that is expected of someone so young. He’s benevolent and wise beyond his age,” you answered, attempting to summarize your observations of him over the past half year.

“You’ve met my other son, correct?” She asked you, and she began pacing again. You confirmed. At this point you’d met him a few times, none of the meetings being entirely pleasant. He seemed to favour you though, which you hoped would continue. You still had a thing about dying.

“What do you think of him?”

You swallowed. Would you really dare speak ill about a woman’s son, especially a queens’?

“He is brave, and well, succinct. He knows what he wants and he achieves it. He’s ambitious and also overtaken with emotion, though the emotion is… not kindness,” you ended hesitantly, starting to fidget just like the Queen was.

“I know you are a commoner. My youngest son has told me about you, and he says you follow rules and tradition no matter what someone of higher power says. But now, I need you to be honest with me,” she kneeled before you, looking you directly in the eyes.

This had to be incredibly important, for her to kneel, let alone in front of you.

“Who is fit to be king?”

Your mouth fell open. You weren’t qualified to answer this. Was the fate of the entire kingdom resting on you now?

“My Queen, is it not appropriate for the eldest to take the throne?” You asked quietly, knowing the answer already.

“Yes, but… Kahmuh has been doubtful in all essence of the word. He is violent and rash, he does not think over his decisions. If it were a choice the obvious choice is Ahkmen, however it isn’t right. It’s never happened before, so I thought the advice of a commoner might be of some use.”

“Your youngest son would be the best choice,” you said. Given the choice, you’d choose him every time.

“You don’t think the citizens will be outraged?”

“I suppose you could… lie, if you’re worried about it,” you suggested, choosing your words carefully.

“What kind of lie could you or I come up with that would soothe their worries?”

“Could say that the Gods chose him. Which is technically true,” you added that at the end, seeing her eyes widen with horror. She took a deep breath.

“You’re right. You’re very wise for a commoner. Dismissed,” she said, standing up. You bowed, thanking her for the time spent with her, and left.

When you returned to the prince’s room, he asked what she needed you for. You thought about telling him the truth, but instead you lied, saying that she was simply checking up on how her son was feeling through the person spending the most time with him. He believed you, and you resumed playing your music.

“Why can’t you marry me?” He asked you, lying next to you in his large splay of blankets and pillows. You sat on the edge of his cushioned area, a blanket to soften the floor for your knees.

“It is prudent to marry within your social class,” you muttered, voice quiet as you still tried concentrating on the task at hand.

“In that case, do you wish for me to marry my brother?” He laughed, before sticking his tongue out and gagging.

“Please don’t,” you chuckled.

“I’d still like you to know that since I’m not becoming Pharaoh, I can marry whomever I want,” he teased, poking you in the shoulder. You rolled your arm back, shaking him off. You thought back to what the Queen had said - if she was to give you credit and follow through your advice, he would be Pharaoh, and that’d be a big problem.

“You can’t assure that you won’t have to become Pharaoh some day,” you said quietly.

“Are you planning on killing my brother?”

“Not yet,” you gritted under your breath. He laughed, rolling onto his side. He stared up at you, a subconscious smile on his face.

“My love, you mustn’t worry. He will become king, not I, and I will be able to marry whomever I please, and whomever I please will be you,” he still smiled at you, sure that he was correct. “As long as you’ll have me,” he added quietly after a beat of silence. You cautiously nodded, aware that while he valued your opinion and input, he could simply force you to marry him. Though knowing him as well as you did, you didn’t think him capable of something like that.

“I don’t think I’m fit to rule,” he sighed a few moments later, letting his hands intertwine behind his head to cushion him. You gave him a quizzical look, silently requesting for him to continue his thought.

“I’ve never been good with fast decisions, and as you might’ve realized I’m terrible under pressure,” he said very matter-of-fact like, sighing dejectedly as he finished. “I’m just not fit to rule.”

“Given the opportunity and right people, anyone with a kind heart and brave soul is fit to rule,” you hummed, letting your fingers pop more gracefully as they plucked the strings.

“That would mean you’re fit to rule,” he said offhandedly, rolling his shoulders back.

“Afraid not, my prince. I’m a coward in my soul,” you laughed, but it was partially true. You’d never break a single rule.

“Perhaps so. You’re not willing to break a rule that isn’t even real, but your kindness more than makes up for it. Besides, with how pretty you are, I’d let it pass,” he casually flirted with you. He was beginning to do so often, and with increasing smoothness. It seemed as though he was really coming out of the shell you really wish he’d go back into.

“Uh - thank you, my, uh, prince,” you stammered. “Do you have any plans for your birthday?” You quickly changed the subject.

“My parents are throwing another party, not much else. I would very much love it if you attended.” He looked up at you expectantly.

“Of course, my prince. I was the harpist at your last birthday, I would be happy to reprise my role.”

“No, I meant as my… partner. My plus one.”

You paused, thinking over the implications if you were to arrive with him, as his equal.

“Who will play harp then?”

“We’ll find someone else, though they won’t be as good as you, I would prefer you to stay at my side,” he said, sitting up and turning to face you. Your skin burned, nerves tingling as you imagined events of the night playing out. You’d probably be expected to do a lot of things you weren’t raised to do.

“Please, my love?” He wrapped his hand around your wrist gently, and his calm demeanor seeped through the contact he made with you.

“… Of course, my prince.”

Two months had passed since that eventful day, where you’d learned that the Queen was doubting her older son, and that you were to attend a royal party as a guest, not an employee. The prince had done to the best of his abilities, as much as he could to soothe your nerves. You hadn’t told him about your anxiousness surrounding the event, but it was easy for him to pick up on it. To help you, he educated you on the different replies to various things. You’d mainly learned that staying silent and by his side would make people avoid talking to you. After all, if you stayed with him, most people would be too enamored with him to notice you, and if they did, they’d probably ask the prince who you were and not you. After a few days of his etiquette training, you’d felt a little better.

Around evening when you and the prince retired to his room, he had been called up for a surprise meeting. You were instructed to stay in his room, so you did, tuning your harp and waiting for him to come back.

He did, a long while later, his shoulders drooping and eyebrows furrowed.

“Nour,” he sighed, rubbing his face as he walked forward. He came in front of you, bending to his knees before planting his face in your shoulder. His arms came around you, tired and slow, but tightly encircling your waist.

“My prince?” You questioned awkwardly, unsure of where to put your hands.

“They’re thinking of breaking the rules. Of giving me the throne,” he whimpered, voice muffled by your body.

“That can’t be so awful,” you murmured, ultimately deciding to rest your hand on his back and head.

“I can’t marry you,” he partially whispered, pressing himself into you further.

“Oh,” was all the tiny sound you could muster. Was that really what he was worried about?

The two of you stayed intertwined on his makeshift nest of blankets and pillows. You, with your heart beating straight out of its’ hole, and him, with his face pressed tight against your body, crying ever so slightly. It gave you time to think of a plan.

“I might regret telling you this, but I have an idea,” you started off slowly. He didn’t move, or make any noise, so you continued.

“You could marry me now,” you said, feeling much more stressed and yet less anxious with the thought now in the open. Open for judgement, yes, but also for accepting, and which one terrified you more you did not know.

He removed himself from you, mouth slightly parted and wide eyed. He then knitted his eyebrows together, cocking his head to the right.

“You’d do that?” His tone was quiet and uncertain, unbelieving and a half whisper.

“If you married me now and you or I decided that it wasn’t a thing we wanted, we could later divorce. However if you let your father announce you as Pharaoh before we are married, it would not be allowed. It’s simply…” you trailed off, unsure of where you were headed.

“The logical decision, to help with my stress?” He smiled shyly. You laughed awkwardly, and nodded.

He leaned forward, looking like he was about to kiss you. Instinctively you pushed him away, heart beat increasing once more.

“It’s just a place holder. Nothings changed. I still don’t think I should even be looking at you,” you quickly relayed to him, hoping to make him realize that you didn’t want to act married.

“Alright. I will kiss you one day though,” he reminded you with a teasing lilt, raising your hand to his mouth, kissing you with a touch that was barely there.

“It appears you already have,” you replied, thinking back to the many times he’d kissed your hand. You knew it to be a sign of utmost respect, and it had confused you when he first did it. Now, you were far more accustomed to it, though you still didn’t approve of it. You supposed he had a right to whomever he respected.

Three days later, he’d convinced you that it was okay to tell his parents. You were hesitant for obvious reasons, but he assured you there wouldn’t be harsh consequences. Unfortunately, he wanted you to be there when he broke the news.

So you stood behind him, shaking, going into a mild cardiac arrest.

“We’re married. It was my idea,” he started with, which was very outright, and you wanted to berate him for that.

“… Married?” His father confirmed. You hadn’t ever spoken to him before, but he had a commanding voice. He, like his eldest son, had a posture, an air about him that simply made him fit to rule.

The prince nodded. His parents exchanged looks, before their eyes fell on you.

“You are?” His father asked, eyes burning your skin.

“My name is Nour. I was the harpist for many of your parties. I have been the youngest princes’… stress reliever,” you answered, attempting to be succinct. You kept your head down, a sign of submission and respect.

“Oh, you were his whore?”

You spluttered, face turning red as you made flabby attempts at defending yourself.

“No, father, Nour has helped me to calm down through music… not, uh, sex. Nour won’t let me touch them,” the prince stepped in to defend you, and at the same time, completely discredited your claimed marriage.

“You two wish to be married, yet you’ve never touched each other? Just, holding hands?”

The Pharaoh seemed confused. He turned to his queen once more, before looking at the two of you again.

“I’m very adamant that I not be touched until marriage. It is a simple personal preference,” you said quickly, coming up with the explanation on the fly. You begged to whomever would listen that it would suffice. Still your eyes were trained on his feet, simply to avoid accidentally meeting his eyes. Despite this you saw him shrug helplessly, waving his hand at his son.

“Alright then, whatever. Why are you telling me this then? Do you want a celebration?”

“Y-“ The prince started, being promptly interrupted by you.

“We’d prefer to keep this quiet for a little bit,” you quickly requested, still keeping your head down. The Pharaoh grunted something, dismissing you quickly. The prince grabbed your shoulders, rushing you out of the throne room and down a quiet hallway. It was open, with large pillars replacing a wall, allowing you to see the city.

“Before you ask, I thought it would be best to have a celebration when we actually get married, if we do,” you told him, which made him finally stop pushing you ahead. He pushed you into a wall, trapping you between his arms. For a moment you were scared, but he was smiling for some reason.

“I care what you believe more than anything, but for right now, I don’t care. We’re married,” he laughed, pressing his forehead to yours. He looked elated, and it made you scared, but it also made love rush beneath your fingertips, spritzing out in the form of a desperate need to touch him.

He reacted before you did, leaning in as slow as he could, still smiling. As he neared your lips, you caught onto a rather scandalous idea.

“Oh my prince, what are you playing at?” You asked coyly, giving him a coquettish grin. For a split second you saw confusion paint his face. You grabbed his wrist, pulling him back into the wall. You switched places with him, pinning him to the wall. There was the unfortunate bit where you were quite a bit shorter than him, but his knees buckled beneath him, bringing him lower than you. Mimicking some of his first actions against you, you pressed two of your fingers beneath his chin, moving him so he looked you in the eyes.

His eyes were wide, staring into yours with happy anticipation. You could almost see him mentally devouring up the attention you were giving him.

“We both know it goes like this,” you whispered, words dripping with amorously inviting intentions. He seemed to melt further into you, smiling with a blissed out look. You were sure if you simply left him like that, he’d only find you more inviting.

So you did.

You ceased all contact all at once, leaving him breathing heavy with wide eyes. You smiled innocently at him, and continued down the hallway. A few minutes later, he finally caught up with you, looking embarrassed but more professional.

“Nice play my love, but I’ll get you someday,” he whispered into your ear, still walking behind you. You just let out a giggle, wondering if he really had it in him.

“Of course, my prince,” you smiled at him.

The two of you returned to his room, feeling much less stressed about the whole situation. However, he asked that you not play the harp. Instead he wanted to simply sit with you, and you agreed as if you had any other option. He led you to the nest of pillows and blankets you were both too familiar with, sitting you down across from him.

“I could write endless poetry about you,” he said dreamily, leaning in and taking your hands. You flushed red, attempting to stammer out a reply.

“Uh- um, t-thank you? I’m hardly deserving,” was what you got out, not meeting his eyes out of embarrassment.

“Nour, you must realize that at this point you are my equal. You can look at me,” he lifted his hand to your cheek, pulling you back to face him, “and you can touch me.”

This was true. Now the only thing stopping you was your own inhibitions, and to you, it felt like enough. When for a few moments you did nothing, he sighed, dropping his head onto your shoulder.

“Whatever you wish, my love,” he murmured, falling back and away from you.

Before you fully knew what you were doing, you pulled him back, sitting yourself in his lap. He looked surprised, staring at you expectantly. Hesitantly, you ran your hand through his short hair, your heart rate increasing as he continued staring at you.

“My love?” He asked in a hushed voice, full of tension, and yet excitement as well.

“My prince,” you responded, your voice holding the utmost reverence and adoration. Once more his hand came to rest on your cheek. He eased you closer, letting you follow his hand of your own accord. It seemed incredibly like him to allow you to take control in such a situation as this.

At long last you relaxed in his touch, melting into his hand with a sigh and closed eyes. You heard him chuckle just slightly, felt him leaning in and felt his nose press into your cheek.

He was letting you make the final move.

You did just so, moving forward not even a centimeter before you felt his lips upon yours.

The tension in your muscles, the tension that had been there since the moment you stepped foot in the palace, faded away. The longer he stayed there, moving his lips against yours, the more anxiety faded away, being replaced by unending need and laudation. The fondness you felt for him consumed your entire being, burning in your blood and electrifying your movements against him. Your hands found a resting place on his shoulders, pulling him ever closer to you. Everything else besides him felt numb, your senses existing only to feel him.

He sunk deeper into you, hands coming beneath your shawl. You leaned away, landing you on your back with him above you.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, leaning down to land soft, open mouthed kisses on your neck.

“You’ve mentioned that,” you breathed out, eyelids fluttering shut as he worked away. You felt out of place, confused, and unsure of where to put your hands. Ultimately he took charge, holding your hands in his and holding them above your head. His fingers threaded into yours, and he came up to kiss you upon your lips.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how beautiful you are,” you said as he removed himself from you, sitting on his knees. You followed his actions, coming close to him, settling your hand on the back of his neck.

“I’m not sure how,” you gave him a curious look, “but you seem to glow, whenever I see you.”

“That’d be the moonlight,” he teased.

“I think it’s actually just you,” you murmured, leaning in for another kiss. He hummed pleasantly, chasing after you when you tried to pull away.

“I’ve hesitated to say this until now but I truly love you. I’m sorry I haven’t said it before, I -“

“Was following the rules?”

“Yes,” you said in a hushed voice, hoping he’d understand. He shifted, moving his body so you could sit in his lap, before pulling you into him.

“I know. I admire you for it, you’ve got quite the tenacity to disobey orders just to obey rules,” he smirked, teasing you. You giggled quietly, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

Finally, everything felt correct. Maybe it was just because you might’ve been a massive prude, but there was the fact that if you were a massive prude, you would’ve waited until a wedding celebration to kiss him. So maybe you were just an avid rule follower. Either way, this time it felt right to touch him, so you did just that.

It was the first time you spent the night with him, both of you asleep in his bed.

Surprisingly, not much changed. Per your request his parents had not told anyone, so no one treated you differently than they had before. A small part of you appreciated that, and the other parts didn’t especially care. Planning for the young prince’s birthday celebrations continued, with you sometimes included in such planning.

Despite recent events you were still nervous about being his ‘plus one.’ It would be making a statement, something you never liked to do, though the statement was more on his behalf, not yours. Nighttime was often the only peace you got, what with daytime being hectic and stressful. Most evenings you played for the prince, whom you still referred to as the prince in your head. Usually out loud, as much as it bothered him. You’d get there eventually, you told yourself.

Sometimes he’d sit behind you, playing with your hair, landing soft pecks on the back of your neck. It was incredibly distracting for your playing and incredibly welcome by your heart.

“I love you,” he said, a thing he often said simply to remind you. When you were feeling especially shy, you’d reply, “I know.” However, during your more normal or confident days, you’d respond, “I love you too.” You had a feeling he preferred the latter.

“How are you feeling? I know there’s been a lot going on,” he asked quietly, threading your hair between his fingers. He tugged at it every now and then, and you wondered if he was trying to braid it.

“I’ve been alright. I got measured today for my clothes, for your party,” you told him in a calm murmur. The quiet moments you shared seemed to be the only time there weren’t voices yelling in your ear.

“Do you like the design?” He asked, tugging at your hair before releasing it.

“I didn’t see it,” you said with a soft laugh, stopping your music for just a second before resuming. He kissed just below the ear as you began, causing you to miss the chord entirely.

“Your affections ruin my playing.”

“Isn’t that the best way to ruin it?”

“There’s better ways.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around your stomach. He pulled you away from your harp, dragging you into his embrace. You smiled, relaxing into his arms. Your harp, luckily, landed on a bed of pillows.

“I love you,” he murmured against your hair, kissing your head.

“I love you too,” you said, turning up so he could kiss you properly.

The celebration was, in your opinion, loud. In your sort-of husband’s opinion, it was joyous. The food was wonderful, you did admit, a good chunk of dessert being made out of sweet honey. Too many people for your taste, just the right amount for his taste, and too little for his parents’ taste. The entire time you sat by his side, people gave you odd stares, but said nothing. His parents didn’t say a word, but greeted you with a curt nod, which was a lot more than you were expecting.

“To the eighteenth birthday of the new Pharaoh, Ahkmenrah!”

The entirety of the table that stretched from one end of a very long hall to the other end of the very long hall raised their glasses. Wine sloshed within the cups, sometimes pouring onto the table. You raised yours careful not to spill. You hadn’t drank that much anyway.

As the hands lowered all took a sip or gulp from their drinks, and promptly after that, the Prince turned Pharaoh collapsed onto the ground. The chalice in your hand crashed onto the table as you knelt hastily by his side, turning him over and shaking him, desperately trying to get him to wake up. Your fingers tingled with pin pricks, all the blood rushing to your head and thumping loudly like the drumbeats of the reaper.

He was carried away from you, and in your own misery you missed the calamity. When you returned to yourself, aware of your own body, you found yourself still kneeling on the floor of the dining hall. It was empty save for a few servants cleaning up the table, and Ahkmenrah’s parents. You felt an empty hole in your torso, as if someone had plowed a log straight through your body.

His father set a hand on your shoulder, telling you to get up and stay by his side. You obeyed without question.

You sat by his bed, grasping his hand. Healers stood on the other side of the bed, putting some sort of ointment into his mouth.

With sluggish movements his head turned to you, lips purple and cracked. His eyes seemed to sink into his skull, eyelids blinking slow and red.

“My love,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and cracking under the light pressure. You kissed his knuckles, holding them tighter.

“You’ll be alright, my prince,” you assured him, glancing up at the healer as you said this. He made a small shrug motion, giving you a worried look.

“No I won’t. Don’t… worry, about me? Don’t worry,” he said to you, trying to raise his arm to your cheek. He couldn’t bear the strain, so you leaned down, pressing your cheek to his open palm. The edges of his lips turned up slightly, smiling as much as you assumed he could physically stand.

The healer left the room, coming back a few minutes later with his parents.

“It’s poison,” he informed them quietly in the corner of the room. His mother gasped, hands coming up to cover her mouth. Your mouth automatically fell open, eyes widening in worry as you looked back down at the prince.

“Your brother,” you said, knowing it must’ve been him. No one else hated him, at least not as much as his brother did.

“I know,” he murmured, trying to swallow. It hurt him, you could tell by the way his eyes closed and his brows knitted tightly together as he winced.

“I will -“

“Don’t. It’s not your job. He will be brought to justice, not by you.”

You nodded, gripping his hand tighter.

“My love,” he rasped out, “be at peace, for I am at peace.” His lips barely moved before he lay still. His eyes remained open, and his head relaxed towards the ceiling.

You numbed entirely. Your hands went cold, and his hand dropped from your cheek with a graceless thump.

And he lay still.

And he did not move, not for hours, not until people moved his body for him, moving him away from both his parents and your eyes. You stayed, kneeled next to his bed for longer than you knew.

Publicly you weren’t married to him. Publicly you were his servant, and that meant you could be buried with him, whether you wanted to or not. You weren’t sure what you preferred.

You didn’t get the time to think it through. He was buried, and his brother became King in his stead. True to his promise, he kept you as his servant. You weren’t allowed to be buried with the prince, and for a while, you served the Pharaoh well. For a long while, and many moons passed before you couldn’t bear more.

It wasn’t until grief consumed you that you changed your situation. His parents had died months back, and whether they were murdered or not you didn’t know. They got proper burials, alongside their son. The world had nothing left to give you, and the Pharaoh was cruel and unjust. You saw clearly now why his mother seemed so worried. You had originally thought that no one could be as inhuman as he was, and now you were wrong. And now you had to end it.

It wasn’t until you died that you awoke again. You’d killed yourself in Egypt, and found yourself awake years into the future, locked inside a half rotted wooden sarcophagus. Besides the tight encasing, the worst part was the dank smell. That had to be expected, after you realized that you had definitely been in that sarcophagus for well over a thousand years, and your wrappings were covered in dust and rot.

To your immense luck it wasn’t pitch black. The wood had rotted through enough to shine small specks of light into your coffin, and due to this whenever you awoke, you could see through to the other world.

You awoke and fell straight asleep and the same time every day. When you awoke, you shifted to a hole, and with your wrappings coming off just slightly below your eye, you saw people. All kinds of people - locked up in glass containers and wearing silly looking clothes. If they weren’t in their own casings they moved around, banging on the glass to be let out. None of them could fully speak, but the throat bleeding screams behind their wrappings was enough to make your blood run cold.

Sometimes, you’d see people not in wrappings, and not encased in glass. They wore dark blue clothing, and they looked old, with pale, white skin.

It made you wonder, very often (when you weren’t panicked about never getting out, and suffering eternity locked away), where you were. You had realized you were in the future, but how? How were you alive? Why were you still in your coffin, and why were you surrounded with glass? Most importantly, how did you wake up?

Ages later you were still in the same place. You lost count how many times you woke up, just to never be released, and fall back asleep. The funniest thing was, you were never tired when you fell asleep. You just did, as though it were instinct.

It was that evening that absolute chaos ensued. Something had happened - there was only one man in dark blue clothing, and he looked frightened. The screams of those around you grew louder, and soon the man was gone with a start.

This pattern of the man running through the room continued for a few more nights before peace came about once more.

A few more nights later, the screaming stopped. Two men spoke together outside in a language you couldn’t understand, but it seemed to be civil, if not worried. One of them got passionate, but was eventually calmed down.

Then a lock clicked.

Fresh air seeped in through the holes of your own prison.

And your lid opened.

You still wore your wrappings, so it was a little hard to see anything. Cloth kept your hands tightly bound to your chest, and when the two men you could barely see noticed that, they helped. Eventually your arms were torn free, quickly followed by the wrappings around your mouth.

You breathed truly, fresh air for the first time in longer than a century. Unfortunately, your eyes were still covered, so it was a bit musty.

“Um,” one man said, mumbling something garbled that you didn’t understand. Hands came behind your head, and for a moment you flinched back, but he slowed. With more care he came up from behind, slowly unwrapping your age old prison.

You blinked as harsh light filled your eyes, cringing away. Before you could fully see arms wrapped tight around you, pulling you out of your casket and holding you tight to a body, clothing and jewelry pressing tight into your skin.

“I - I’m sorry?” Was all you could think to say, eyes finally being able to see. The glass around you was gone, and you saw in full vision the others who were encased. They too were out, some more violent and confused than others, who seemed to also be from Egypt.

“Nour,” he mumbled, a cold sort of crown chilling your cheek. The voice, knowing your name, speaking it with such blessing, sounded too familiar. You tried to form words, but found yourself at a loss for them, resorting to confused mumbles and noises.

Over the mans’ (who was still hugging you) shoulder you saw another man, white skin, younger. Dark hair, strong brow, and looking incredibly awkward. Upon seeing that you noticed him, he waved awkwardly, saying something in another language.

“What’s happening?” You asked weakly, hoping the man who was hugging you understood your language.

“Oh, my love,” he murmured, lips brushing against your neck as he pulled back.

“My prince?”

#ahkmenrah x reader #ahkmenrah #night at the museum #rami malek #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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nitholites · 4 years

Text

Damienette Soulmate AU, part 2 (here we go again)

Part 1

Thank you @friendly-neighborhood-enby for proof-reading this word dump you’re gorgeous and I love you

Getting permission to leave the group was disturbingly easy. The fact that Marinette was so 'disruptive to the class, always starting things. Even when she should be leading by example' and Damian was 'so mature and responsible, and works at WE, where employees are known for their trust worthy natures!' helped.

"You are much too kind for them, Marinette," Damian said as they left the class behind. She had actually restrained him from saying one of the many roasts he dearly wanted to, or from punching the incompetent teacher in the face- whichever he felt like.

Marinette opened her mouth, but snapped it shut and hummed instead. "You can say it," Damian coaxed. "Never halt your speech in front of me."

The look she gave him made him want to turn around and give her class a word lashing they won't forget. She looked almost shocked someone wanted to hear from her- a reaction no one should have. The smile she sent at him made him reconsider that plan. "I wasn't planning on holding back my words- I just realized something."

"Oh? Mind sharing that?"

She nodded. "Maybe you're right, is all. My friends, Luka and Kagami, keep telling me the same thing. I just think it's time to stop defending them like this, is all."

"They truly don't deserve you," Damian said before his mind caught up. As her smile lightened the air around them, Damian asked more about her home life- her hobbies and parents. Learning she grew up in her parents' bakery rang a few bells, but Damian chose to ignore them. She may not have learned from her parents, after all. And how could an angel like her be tied to his mangled, dark soul?

She deserved the world, as he knew from their time together on the tour. He couldn't give her the light she deserved and gave others. But maybe he could give her a space away from the air of her class, away from the cruelty of the people she used to call friends. That would be enough.

Regardless of what he could or couldn't do, what he would do was simple: Protect the smile that lit up the world for as long as she allowed.

Yes, he realized just how absurd that thought process was. They'd known each other for a day- no, a few hours. Vowing to protect her smile so soon was absolutely foolish. If it were anyone other than the kind, selfless girl beside him, Damian wouldn't have given her a spare glance.

If his brothers could see him now, he'd be mercilessly teased till the end of his days. He could hear their voices now- laughing with undertones of utter shock and disbelief.

But when she smiled, when her laugh chimed through the air like a clear bell... well, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Still, he'd suppress his quickly-growing fondness to something manageable until he had time to sort his thoughts.

Marinette, not for the first time that day, had to stop herself from letting loose her full laughter, trying not to embarrass herself and her company in public. She knew she could be loud- her voice carried when she wasn't careful, so she tried staying silent to counterbalance it- but the teen in front of her didn't seem to mind. If anything, he looked amused. The café was their most recent stop, after the museum, gardens, and flea market. A short coffee break before they went back to her class.

"Seriously?" She couldn't- absolutely could not- believe the tale Damian told, though he hadn't yet lied to her.

The teen nodded soberly, echoes of a smirk lingering on his face. "Alfred doesn't trust anyone in his kitchen anymore."

"It's no wonder! I'd do the same thing if my kitchen was as trashed," she stated, letting her hands follow her enthusiasm. "Your brothers committed the equivalent of kicking a homeless, 3-legged puppy to any self-respecting baker, let alone chef! My poor grandfather would have a heart attack!"

"Do you bake?" The question was accented with a slight raise of an eyebrow- a sort of challenge. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was many things- but a loser was not one of them, regardless of the game. Is this a game? she asked herself, slightly surprised at that train of thought. She found she couldn't answer, realizing their conversations were many things.

"When I'm stressed," she admitted. "I love the bakery and my parents, but practically coming out of the womb with a baking sheet in my hands put a few... habits in me."

Damian didn't verbally respond, moving his hand and nodding as though to say 'Go on'. So she did. "Bakers wake up at least two hours before the shop opens- or at least we do. The bakery opens at seven A.M. every morning, so we wake up at five at the latest. Usually closer to four," she started, sending a bright smile and a nod to the waiter who set down her coffee. A returned smile and a small greeting later, she returned to her explanation. "So check ‘early riser’ off the list. As stated before, I stress-bake. But I also help Papa with trying new recipes. So I'm practically always on the lookout for new or interesting flavors and combinations. Sometimes, I get so focused that I forget what I was doing," she sheepishly smiled, earning a chuckle from the boy before her.

"How do Gotham pastries compare to your family's?"

He thought the question was innocent enough.

Thought being the crucial word there.

A fire lit in Marinette's eyes then, a fire that told of harsh rants and moving arms. She laid all her complaints out there, genuine tears gathering at her eyes as she mourned the lack of decent baked goods. And as she explained each good, Damian found himself nodding along, nearly able to taste the poor items from her descriptions alone.

He nearly gagged from the imaginary taste. Never before had he uttered a sincere apology to someone outside his family, but he found himself looking into her eyes with as much remorse as he could muster. "I'm extremely sorry you had to sample those."

"It's alright, I suppose," she sighed. "I've actually started working with the bakers there to improve the pastries."

"Already? How long have you been in Gotham?"

"About a day."

She moved fast. "Perhaps one of these days, I can show you the better restaurants Gotham has to offer."

Damian paused, his mouth having moved before his brain even realized he spoke. "I mean, if you're free," he added, trying desperately to make the awkwardness clinging to the table vanish.

Before she could answer, a familiar voice called out. "Ya sure it's here, Pam?"

Damian turned in his seat, surprised at the arrival of none other than Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy. He had to forcefully relax his body, seeing as the rogues had a good streak going. "I'm positive," the red-head responded, eyes searching the café. "This place is absolutely thriving." She gestured to the ivy on the wall near the register, which Damian now realized looked a bit greener than usual.

"Is something wrong?"

He turned back to Marinette, considering his next words. "Probably not," he eventually said. "What do you know of Gotham's rogues?"

"What was on the internet," she replied, eyeing the two women with... interest. "I wanted to make sure everything we needed to know was in the pamphlets, so I did my research."

Neither got the opportunity to speak more as Ivy approached their table, Harley following close behind. The questions sent Ivy's way were ignored, both from Harley and Damian. But Marinette's were answered, as she asked with a small smile. "May I help you?"

"How are you doing that?"

Marinette blinked, confusion etching into her features. "I'm sorry?"

"The plants are singing your praises," Ivy continued. "You heal them. How?"

If Damian had been watching Marinette instead of Ivy and Harley, he would have seen the flicker of understanding and surprise pass through the small girl. As it was, only Ivy, who had been watching her intently, saw it. "I simply have a bit of a green thumb," Marinette smiled, tilting her head as she did so. “That… isn’t a problem, is it?”

“Of course not,” Ivy immediately responded, shaking her head. “I just came to thank you. For as long as I’ve been Poison Ivy, the plants in Gotham have never been happier than in your presence.” Shocked silence came from the other Gothamites, but Marinette was only embarrassed. She had never been good at receiving compliments, even before Lila and most compliments turned into sneers and bullying.

Marinette stammered as she tried to thank the woman, the heat in her cheeks only adding to her embarrassment. Her words failing, she took a deep breath and calmed herself until she could speak in full sentences. “It’s really no problem- I’m just happy to help.”

The café

seemed to hold it’s breath- or perhaps the people inside did. Either way, nothing moved until Ivy did, smiling. “What’s your name, Blue Bell?”

Blue Bell? She answered anyway, having practice ignoring nicknames (even if she didn’t mind the kind ones). “Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m here on a class trip. You’re Mademoiselle Isley and Mademoiselle Quinn, oui?”

The women nodded, sending smiles to the girl. “Aw, ain’t ya such a darlin’,” Harley cooed, lightly pushing past her girlfriend to pat the sweet teen on the head. “A right angel in Gotham, ya are. How long ya stayin’, Sunshine?” Harley slid into the booth as she asked.

“A couple months. Hopefully longer, if my application is accepted.”

“Already looking for colleges?” Now Pamela was in the booth, sat beside Damian as she joined in the questioning. Marinette nodded, taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee. “All the way in Gotham?”

“I want to experience fashion and culture outside of Paris,” Marinette started. “See what the rest of the world is like while I have the chance.”

Every passing moment with Marinette caused not only the rogues, but the other Gothamites in earshot to start rooting for her. Alas, time marches on, and both groups had things to do. They split at the entrance, Marinette and Damian beginning their trek to find her class and the rogues going to… well, neither teen would ask.

Robin suppressed a sigh, eyes scanning the streets below his perch. “No helping it, Baby Bird,,” the infuriating voice of his eldest brother sounded. “It’s a slow night for everyone.”

“The third slow night in a row,” he shot back, leaping from the ledge he used as a perch. The wind tousled his hair as he swung through the night, boredom already settling in his bones. “Something’s brewing.”

“I’ll look into it,” Oracle’s voice pitched in. Silence followed (if you ignored his brothers’ incessant chattering -which Damian did). At least until Oracle spoke again. “Reported argument, three blocks from the museum. Possible escalation. Robin’s the closest.”

“I’ll check it out,” he said over his brothers’ complaints.

Only a minute of swinging later, and Robin could hear the argument. If you could even call it an argument. A large, burly man stood yelling at a smaller, meeker-looking young man, an even smaller girl between them standing tall. With pigtails.

Wait.... Robin knew those pigtails- he saw them only hours ago! Why was she out of the hotel? In Gotham? At night?! Did she have a death wish?! His mask zoomed in, their voices sounding in his ear. The large man’s yelling practically boiled down to ‘He’s my boyfriend, and therefore my property’ in prettier, louder words. Robin rolled his eyes, having seen this kind of situation countless times before. Damian, though, watched the man and Marinette, worried for her safety.

The big man started spewing nonsense about the smaller ‘getting like this sometimes’ and ‘needing to take his meds, he gets confused’. The shaking man refuted everything said, repeatedly stating how he was done, trying to get away from the man who took everything from him.

“You think those morons you call friends would take you in?! They abandoned you! You have nowhere else to go!”

“Anywhere’s better than here!”

Marinette just stood, glaring down the man who was literally three times her size. But when he tried grabbing behind her, she moved. Before anyone could say or do anything, the man was out cold with a bleeding face, on his stomach as she tightened a couple zip ties around his wrists and ankles.

Robin had to pause his thoughts and think back to register what happened. A knee to the groin. Hands on either side of his head, holding it in place as she kneed his nose hard enough to break. When he didn’t go down, she swept his legs from under him and kicked his temple.

Her voice was too soft for the microphone to pick up, but by the way the smaller man’s face slowly relaxed, she had to have been saying something.

She didn’t spin to face Robin as he dropped, but did stop talking. Standing, she pulled out her phone. “May I help you?”

“I should be the one asking,” Robin stated, puzzled at the slight tensing of her shoulders. She turned, making a face at him once she did. “What?”

“You’re a traffic light,” she stated. “I prayed the images online were photo-shopped.” She sighed, shaking her head and tutting as the man behind her chuckled. Pulling a card from her purse, she pushed it into Robin’s hands, stepping on the zip tied man on the ground. “I will literally remake your entire group’s costumes for free if you send me the material. Heaven knows I can’t let the protectors of Gotham dress as clowns,” she muttered.

Robin crossed his arms with a scowl, narrowing his eyes. “Who says we-”

“Nope,” she interrupted, holding a hand up to silence him. “No way am I letting anyone- anyone- run around looking like-” she gestured to all of him, scrunching her nose in disgust “-like that. Doing so is an insult to fashion designers everywhere.”

Back and forth they went, until Robin paused and looked to the victim.

Laughter.

Marinette smiled as she turned around, gesturing between the two conscious men. “He agrees! You’re giving the gays and fashion icons nightmares, Robin. Nightmares.”

The laughter flowing from Robin’s earpiece didn’t help the situation.

Once the cop car (singular, without sirens as Marinette had asked in her call) rounded the corner, the three gave their statements and went on their ways.

For the most part.

Robin went with Marinette a ways, both of them stopping at the intersection. “You know how dangerous it is at night.” Once she nodded, he continued. “Why were you out?”

“Well, I had a feeling,” she shrugged, letting a hand land on her hip. “I was just going to the coffee shop down the block when they ran past me, like I told the officer.”

Neither spoke for a moment, standing in silence. “Be more careful next time.”

She smiled, starting to walk again. “Always.”

Taglist:

@goblinwhoships @mochegato

#mlb x dc #marinette dupain cheng #class salt #lila salt #damian wayne #batfam #alfred knows all #alfred pennyworth #crossover #soulmate #soulmate au

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years

Text

Little Tinkerbell ~ Yin Zhi x Reader

Little maiden, what are you doing? Should you really waste your time in the library, studying, when outside is sunny and you could be playing with the princes and princesses?

Little maiden, what are you doing? Should you really be tinkering with weird widgets, when you could be learning how to apply make up?

Little maiden, what are you doing? Should you really be going riding through the forest, when you could be going shopping for fashionable clothes and accessories?

He heard all the rumours, all the gossips, all the bad words...He saw all the judging eyes of all the close-minded and inapt people...He saw everything...And yet, Yin Zhi couldn't understand how come this little mockingjay would rather study and be by herself, despite all the reprimanding she gets, when she could solve it all by obeying, like all women do?

Why was she so stubborn? Why did she insist on doing literally everything that he was also interested in, and yet, he wasn't reprimanded, just because he was a man, and more, the Emperor's son?

A man...Well, he's not a man yet, he's barely 12 years old, and yet, this girl keeps bugging his mind.

It all started when he went to the library one day, and his way was through the garden, and there she was, a little maiden, her beautiful hair flying messily into the air, as she was hunched over a stone tabled, doing something, clearly focused enough to draw out anything outside of her area of work. She didn't even hear him approach, not even sitting in front of her, until he strategically stepped into her light, and she got too confused at the sudden darkness, until she looked up and realised who was eclipsing her.

"You...You are the 3rd Prince, aren't you? Yin Zhi, was it? What are you doing here?" she asked, her hands hanging awkwardly, still holding the delicate screws and gears from the machinery. "Great, you know who I am. Should I be asking you the same now, for the sake of common courtesies? Or will you finally answer my question?" he asked impatiently, thinking he'd intimidate the girl...But she didn't sketch any of that. "A travelling merchant from the West came by recently, and I bought some musical boxes. They make beautiful music, and this rotating doll has interesting clothes. I wanted to take everything apart, learn how the engine works, how each and every little piece keeps the synergy going, and then attempt to recreate something similar, or maybe even better. Who knows." she shrugged, going back to her tinkering. "Don't tell me you actually understand what you're doing." he scoffed, and yet, leaned forward to pay attention to her dexterous fingers. "I do...But, do you?" she smirked, provoking him. "Are you mocking me?!" the prince scoffed, shocked at her impertinence. "It's mocking only if you get offended. If not, you can shut up, listen, and understand." there was no malice or harshness in her words, and the prince realised that there was an unexpected maturity and wisdom about her, that seemed to calm him...Or tame him. "Fine, then. If you're so sure of yourself, then show me how you'd repair this music box to its original state." he challenged her, which oddly enough, made he grin brightly at him. "No problem!" she started humming a melody, which he guesses might be the one from the music box, and with an outstanding ingenuity, she played around with those tiny tools and even tinier gear pieces, using a magnifying glass to see better, and there it was, in its dull glory, a dancing doll and a pretty song. "Not bad...For someone like you. I must confess, I never expected a girl to be interested in machinery or studying like you are. I am...Impressed." he was just a child back then, still reckless and easily wearing his emotions on his sleeve, as he blushed...She quickly became his childhood crush, clearly. "Thank you, Yin Zhi! Nobody ever said anything nice about my...Out of the ordinary interests, so...Thank you." she gave him a sweet smile, before taking the music box, ready to leave. "It's getting late, I must go home and continue my studying. I hope to see you again soon, Prince." she gave him an innocent kiss on his cheek, waving goodbye, before leaving the place, her beautiful, flowy, pink dress flying behind her.

Since then, this little maiden was the only one that he accepted to study with, to learn with and to learn from, or listen to...And also, she was the only one who could get him to sneak out of the Palace to go on the top of the hill to watch the stars, identify constellations, to watch the fireflies, and she was the only one he enjoyed riding with.

She wasn't like all those princesses and ladies who'd rather waste her time doing needlework and baking cakes... Although he couldn't deny that her osmanthus cakes were amazing, the tea she was brewing was incredibly aromatic, and the costumes she was creating were making even the Western tailors jealous.

However, he couldn't pin point whether she was she was really as great as she was making her out to be, or simply, that's how he was seeing her. That's weird, since he prides himself for being level-headed, rational and also, for seeing things exactly as they are, not veiled by the charms of emotions and...And that other forbidden word he canNOT allow himself to say, not out loud, nor to himself.

But years passed, and not even him, Yin Zhi, the 3rd Prince, was safe from the feminine charms, and Y/N was becoming more beautiful with each day passing.

As time went by, he always felt the need to invite her, under different pretexts, to hang out with him, mostly for the sole reason that he truly enjoys her company. She never speaks more than she has to, and when she does, her words are meaningful and leave a lingering feeling that tugs at his heartstrings, making him want to hear more of her voice.

Even his mother, Consort Qin, was feeling infinitely better whenever she would visit her, and it almost felt like a healing, bright aura, something incredibly refreshing, like the cold mint freeze, that was making her feel so great. She was a mother, clearly, she was well aware of her son’s feelings for this little maiden, and she was happy that her only child, that she loved so much, and in turn, cared so much for her, was able to find such a kind and brilliant woman to be by his side and match his wits and intellect just as he always dreamt of.

So one night, on one of the many occasions that they spent together, they found themselves riding through the forest, and arrived at a gorgeous waterfall, continued by a blue lagoon, surrounded by numerous flowers of variate, vibrant colours, tons of butterflies and choruses of birds singing like angels.

“I don’t know how we got here, but this looks like a true paradise. Wouldn’t it be so much more peaceful if we were to live closer to nature, and farther away from noisy people?” Y/N asked, yet her question wasn’t exactly addressed, as she took of her shoes and lifting up the hem of her long dress, she went to the shallow part of the lagoon, jumping on the stones to get closer to the waterfall. “I can’t deny that would be the ideal scenario...Although, I wouldn’t advise you to stay too long in the freezing water, or too close to the waterfall. You will get soaked and sick.” he shook his head, sitting on one of the big rocks guarding the lagoon. “Don’t tell me...Yin Zhi, have you never bathed into a lake? Or a spring? Or under a waterfall?” she giggled, teasing him, as she gracefully skipped next to him, taking off his hat, putting it on his horse, and then going behind him to braid his hair. “Did I give you permission to touch my hair? Do you want me to kill you that badly?” he let his head down so he could look at her, and despite his words, he bore no ill will. “If you kill me, who’s going to read with you, or help you with machinery?” she chuckled, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. “Besides, you know I can’t resist your hair. It’s the most beautiful and soft in the whole kingdom.” her smile was so playful and gentle that it seemed to relax him immediately. “I don’t need your help in repairing machinery, nor do I need the distraction you offer while reading. And, to reply to the other affirmation, I’m a Prince, after all. We get lucky since birth.” he smirked gracefully, making the girl hum, as she was pondering. “Well...Should I tell you a secret? Yeah, sure, I always tell you all the secret I know anyway. The only other princes with nice hair are Yin Zhen and the 14th prince, and not even they can compare with yours. I mean...Have you seen the Crown Prince? Or the 5th prince? It’s like they don’t care at all! It looks so...Course and greasy! I wouldn’t dare get my finger anywhere close to that!” she started laughing, faking a shudder, as she finished the braid. “Good, because if you did, I’d have cut your fingers off. Good luck touching my hair without fingers.” he grumbled, almost as if jealous. “Awww, but then, who’d braid your hair? You know you like it when I play with your hair, so don’t play the tough facade with me. Besides...I’m pretty sure you’re going to kill me regardless of what I do, so...” with a low giggle, she pushed herself into his back, sending both of them into the lagoon, shocking the poor prince who wasn’t expecting that. “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!” he yelled at her, glaring, as soon as he resurfaced to get some air. “YES!” she laughed so carefree, all that hair playing as a curtain draped all over her face. “Oh, spare me.” he scoffed, putting his hand on her head and pushing her underwater, long enough to get his revenge, but not long enough that she might have discomfort. “Okay, but you have to admit, it was pretty fun! It’s always nice trying out new things, isn’t it?” she laughed, struggling to throw away all that hair from her face. “You, dummy...Get here, I’ll help.” he couldn’t help but show a half smile at the girl since, despite all the silliness and complete lack of mannerism, she always managed to warm his heart more and more. “Thank you. Perhaps I should have braided my hair too before, but, oh well, guess now I can look like one of those vengeful ghosts from the stories our mums would tell us to keep us behaving.” she grinned, letting her hair down to allow the man behind her to braid her hair properly. “Speaking of stories...I once heard one from my mother, and I almost think she was talking about you, especially as I met you when we were young...And you were so small compared to me, even then.” he teased her, making her widen her eyes in intrigue. “Ohh, tell me, tell me!” she turned around, hugging her legs and resting her chin on her knees, waiting for the story patiently...Or not so, rather. “It’s not much to say...It’s about a little fairy who was struggling to find out what her defining talent. Some had the power to make flowers bloom in a matter of seconds, others could speak to animals, other could bend water, storms or light to their will...And yet, this little fairy that everyone found so odd, couldn’t find her defining talent among all the other girls she knew. Do you want to know why?” he never admitted that, no matter how many times the girl told him, but he had the gift of story-telling and keeping the listener gripped completely. “Yes, tell me!” his heart was melting seeing her almost childlike enthusiasm and fascination on her face that simply his words could create. “She was special, that’s why. Special, even among her peers. Because she was incredibly inventive and handy, so she was sent to the tinkers to create intricate machinery that would aid all the other fairies on their jobs of keeping nature balanced and properly taken care of. And because her dress resembled a bell flower, she was given the name of...Tinkerbell.” he explained the story, which made her jolt to her feet in a second, running to the bed of flowers. “So, you’re saying I’m Tinkerbell, aren’t you? Then, I have to create a proper outfit for my talent! What do you say which flower should I take inspiration from?” she crouched down in front of the flowers, only to hear a scoff from the man. “You won’t find the one there, silly woman...But here.” he leaned to snatch a pink lotus flower from the lagoon, making his way in front of her, and carefully putting in her hair. “Because a lotus is unique. It’s the true symbol of a woman’s noble and pure personality. It represents the ability to remain pure and become enlightened, even through hardships...And I believe that suits you best.” he muttered the end, feeling shy, yet not turning his head away. “You always know what to say, don’t you? You’re so smart and cool...I bet if you were a fairy, you’d have been the king of them all, for you’d have all the talents the others have.” she chuckled softly, leaning her head down just slightly, feeling bashful, her cheeks resembling just a tiny bit the shade of the flower she now so proudly represented. “And you’d be the queen of the empire.” the ghost of a smirk appeared on his face as he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

But things can’t always remain as ethereal as they are all the time, and he wasn't blind to the Crown Prince trying woo her, or at least gain her as an ally, as he realised her worth, intellect and shrewdness, and nor was he ignorant to how those obnoxious 5th, 7th and 11th princes were constantly on her tail. They don't deserve to be in her presence! They never appreciated her when she was a child, why should they now? But he was ar least relieved with the fact that he knew she has always been a smart girl and wouldn't fall in their web of lies.

That is...Until he started seeing less and less of her around he library, and more of her around the Princes and the Empress...Mainly the Crown Prince. But he could see she was beginning to lose her light, her glamour, her spark...There was something wrong, and he was worrying about her.

How pathetic of him.

Why does he even feel like that? Is that normal?

Sure, it can be normal for those mundane plebs, but not to him! He had to find a way to talk to her, since clearly, she was afraid of something.

Could she be...Blackmailed...?

One day, he found her in the tea house, so he stole the key and bribing the matron there, he prowled in and locked them inside, staring at her with his piercing eyes, watching her prepare a chrysanthemum tea.

"I've never seen you so happy to make tea for everyone who asked you." he pointed out in his usual, cold manner. "...! 3rd Prince, I didn't see you walking in!" she gasped, almost letting the teapot fall from her hands. "Of course you didn't see me. You were much too absorbed in your own mind to see me. I wonder what is troubling you so these days, Y/N." he crossed his arms, analysing her unusual spazzic behaviour. "Oh, u-uhm...Nothing too out of the ordinary. Now, please, if you'd excuse me, I must serve Her Majesty, the Empress, and the Crown Prince with tea." she sighed, hanging her head, hoping he wouldn't see her dejected expression. "You've never been the best at lying or concealing your emotions. Now, tell me the truth. I've known you for years, you can't deceive me." his voice was sharper now, hoping the extra pressure would crack her.

And it did. "I hate them...I hate them so much...I want to run away, but they are threatening me, and I can't find a way out. The Empress and that...That...That brat of hers are trying to marry me off to one of those horrible and uneducated rats that call themselves Princes...And I don't know what to do!" she slammed the tea tray on the table, and it was clear that she didn't crack - She outright shattered, just like those cups and teapots she placed so gingerly, just a few seconds prior. "So, that's it? They are threatening to marry you if you don't obey, and instead of coming to me for help, you dig a hole and hide in it. I thought you were smarter than that." he sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. "I couldn't possibly get you involved in this mess. You're already on hot waters for being the next best contestant to being an Emperor, along with Yin Zhen, and the Crown Prince hates you. The Emperor wants you to compete as well. If you get involved, it may throw your peaceful life into a complete chaos." she looked away, hanging her head in disappointment. "So you were trying to be considerate with me, I understand. Next time, I'd suggest the smarter approach, which would be communication. I can easily solve all your problems with just a two words." his voice softened, as he chuckled at her reaction. "Two words...? What do you mean...?" she looked up at him, confusion obviously plastered on her face. "Marry me." those words were so simple, so easy to say out loud, and yet, it brought complete turmoil and shock in both of them. "Wh-What ?! I-I- ...Y-You-...?! Wha-...?! B-But...?! Y-You have t-to l-love the person you're marrying, w-we can't just....S-So sudden..." she kept stuttering and rambling, her cheeks as red as his were long ago, when she kissed his cheek. "I see no problem, then." with a mischievous smirk on his face, he stepped forward, kissing her cheek, making her freeze on the spot. "...?! Y-You...You really...?! Since when? Why didn't you say anything sooner?!" her bottom lip quivered softly, frowning at him accusatory. "A long time ago. We were doing fine the way we were before, I didn't see why we should mess with perfection. But others stomped on it, and made you upset, so I have to solve this. And what better way to have you happy, by my side, then to be my bride? Nobody would dare come between us, that much, I can assure you." he explained with clear confidence, knowing very well that she melted, realising her feelings were reciprocated. "...I love you." she threw her arms around him without any warning, which he wasn't surprised by in the least, as she'd always surprise him with kisses, hugs, pinches and little gifts. "...And I love you, Tinkerbell." he muttered, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head.

As soon as the 3rd Prince went to his father, while he was alone, for his blessings, he received what he wished for. The look of absolute dread and hatred on the faces of the Empress, the Crown prince, and the 5th, 7th and 11th princes, who realised they lost their potential bride and spy to the one everyone least expected to get married.

The 3rd Prince was, by far, the one with the most tricks up his sleeves, and that will never change.

#legend of the phoenix x reader #legend of the phoenix headcanons #legend of the phoenix #legend of the phoenix imagine #yin zhi #yin zhen #3rd prince #4th prince #crown prince #emperor #empress #5th prince #7th prince #14th prince #11th prince

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drelleboag · 3 years

Text

“Who got the power”? Jese...that’s who!

So, it is confirmed, after 9 years of being a core part of the girl band Little Mix Jesy Nelson has left the building…and why? Because Jesy has had to endure unrelenting trolling and cyber bullying since appearing on the X Factor in 2011. Jesy has been targeted for the past 9 years about her looks, her body shape and her voice…all of which, in my humble opinion are odd things to target as I think Jesy is beautiful, has the figure that many women aspire to (even go “under the knife” to achieve) and an amazing singing voice. However, mine and many hundreds of thousands of voices upholding such a view has little effect on the negativity wrought by the lesser number of cruel online bullies who remain anonymous in order to spread their spiteful and incendiary “voice”.

Seven in 10 young people report experiencing cyberbullying and 26% report feeling suicidal, so clearly the psychological impact of cyberbullying impacts deeply, leading to serious mental health illness such as depression and anxiety, low self-esteem and loneliness. I remember watching Jesy’s speaking out about her experiences and the experiences of others in a documentary on BBC3 in 2019, and at the time wondering if it would relieve the venom that stalks her on social media platforms. Clearly the answer to that is a resounding “NO”, but how Jesy has navigated her own “story” since then is testament to her tenacity and resilience. So kudos to her fighting spirit and strength of character by saying in the most public way possible “enough is enough!” may she be a standard bearer for those who have to suffer at the hands of cowardly bullies who hide behind anonymised false identities whilst they vomit their vitriolic and often unsubstantiated “point of view”, provoking additional spewing of hatred and attacking from others simply “because they can”.

So why do cyberbullies and trolls do it? Well to answer that honestly, you would need to ask them…and we don’t really know who they are as they hardly step up and identify themselves…even Katy Hopkins, whose public and hateful outbursts have led to her famously being branded as the most hated Celebrity in Britain, has the Kahunas and honesty to be open about it – albeit as a means of increasing her fame and notoriety as the “villain” perhaps? Anyway, I digress…one of the key reasons that trolls troll and cyberbullies bully online is because they are anonymous. It has long been recognised that anonymity leads to deindividuation and subsequently all manner of negative behaviour…just think back to any and all crowd-based disturbance… it is individuals within the crowd that cause the most harm, act in the most violent, antisocial and even criminal ways, simply because they are anonymous, and their individual actions are less detectable. It is a small number (in the grand scheme of things) of individuals who start the ball rolling by trolling and cyberbullies continue in their wake once the poison has been injected into the comments on social media platforms. As with trolls, cyberbullies are anonymous and their actions are kept, albeit very close to the line, within the parameters of what is “legal”. In the UK cyberbullying is not, in itself a crime… shocking, but true. There are specific laws that might be breached by trolling someone online, such as the Malicious Communications Act (1988), the Protection from Harassment Act (1997) or the Communications Act (2003) to name but three…but how do you prosecute someone who is anonymous? and who ensures that their actions are as close to illegal as they can get, without (mostly) crossing that line? Basically… you can’t!

So why are celebrities such as Jesy being targeted? Is it jealousy? Or is it something else?

In answering this question, I can only voice my own view, one that I have talked about across the media for some time…it may be explained by the fact that we now pretty much all have social media and can “connect” with “@real….” Celebrity accounts across numerous platforms. Celebrities are now immediately accessible…we feed off of their comments and tweets, we see and review their photos as they live their lives in the public sphere…and as such, we feel a far stronger connection with our chosen celebs. For their part they send us “blanket statements” about how much they love us, how much they are thankful for our support of their latest album/movie/TV role/award…etc. But this is a precarious situation as now we can feel that we own our celebrity, that without us they are nothing that we gave them their status and that we can control their future success or failure. For celebrities such as Jesy in 2011 the feelings of ownership can be argued to be particularly important. The public had journeyed with Little Mix from being created on X Factor® (as each band member auditioned as a solo artist) through their auditions as a group, to the judges houses and finally voting for them to win. Social media accounts were created as part of their existence and platforms were regularly updated with news about their journey; this all added to establish a sense of ownership of the band’s successes (e.g., “if we don’t vote for them, they will be sent home this week”)…and the public developed a need to be connected to them 24-7, expected immediate responses to and likes of comments/tweets, feeling let down if responses are not quick enough, the activity of favourites were compared to fellow band members and the “who is your favourite?” question was raised (mine, btw was always Jese!). A comparator that has always made between females (and is now on the rise for males too) is about idealised (and outdated) looks, body shape/size…for example: too thin, too fat, too small, too big, too short, too tall, too White, too Black, too flat chested, too busty.

Anything that allows comparison (so basically anything at all), that favouritism of one person over another that then offers the opportunity for trolls to make their first insinuations and drip-feeding of poison onto the platform… someone responds to them… and it feeds their need to add more negativity, and so it begins…cyberbullies then see an opportunity to really dig in with some nastiness…again, by responding, their negativity and hatefulness grows… they positively thrive on the defence of their chosen target! They don’t care what you think of them, you don’t know who they are…they could be anyone for all you know! … and there is that anonymity again!

So, what, if anything can be done? What can targets of trolls and cyberbullies do? How can they protect themselves from experiencing the psychological harm that comes from persistent pervasive drip-feeding of poison about their looks, their body shape, their personality, their talents, or other personal attribute aimed at bringing about the maximum hurt?

Well take a leaf out of Jesy’s book…take back control

I have cobbled together some loose ideas that might help you work through the process of taking back control below, these are simply my thoughts about what you can do, but if they help then that is only a good thing:

1. Make it known that you are coming off of social media and do so straight away. You do not have to justify the decision, and do not wait around for the bullies to respond…just close your accounts.

2. Now identify what is causing you the most upset. Is it the words? are they tapping into your own insecurities? or is it the intention behind their words that is most upsetting? is it something else? …etc. If you don’t know, speak to close others (e.g., family and friends) and ask for their view.

3. Once identified, focus on what impact experiencing the cyberbullying and trolling is having on your mental health…and be honest with yourself…and speak to close others (e.g., family and friends) about how they feel it is impacting you, remember that they see you from the outside, from your behaviour and responding to them…not from the inside (as you do!). Don’t feel judged or guilty, it is simply about identifying what it is that you

4. Next, address the immediate issue about your mental health. If it is having a detrimental effect on your day-to-day life speak to your GP, take someone with you if you feel able to; having a second “voice” can often be helpful to identify issues that you might forget about, or that you haven’t identified; your GP needs as much information as possible to help you properly. If you are not impacted on a day-to-day basis, and/or once your mental health is on a stable footing, ask yourself whether you feel able to tackle this without professional help, or whether you should undertake some counselling? or whether you are willing to work with close others (family and friends)? and importantly are your close others able to (although they may desperately want to) support you properly? If no to the latter, seek out a counsellor or seek advice online or over the phone from one of the many mental health charities that exist (e.g., Mind, NHS mental health and wellbeing support, young minds) who will signpost you to appropriate support networks.

5. Recognise that working through the effects of your psychological and emotional trauma is not a quick process. It takes no time at all to knock someone down (for chronic attacks this is exaggerated) but it takes a long time for them to have the confidence to stand up again. Be invested in building up your resilience and confidence.

6. Surround yourself with people who mean something to you; do not isolate yourself…we are social creatures and need to be with others. If you live alone, join a group and get involved in community activities, if you are religious get involved in your faiths’ community projects … I am sure that your volunteering will be most gratefully received (and I believe even permitted under tier 3 restrictions…but do check!). There are ways that you can be active and be sociable that do not involve going to the pub! Which by the way is totally out for anyone in tier 3 anyway!

7. Live your life free from the chains of those who brought you down!

Finally, always remember that you are you…and only you can be you…it is not for others to tell you who you are, and anyone who wants to do so is simply not worth your concern. Be stronger than them and remove yourself from the equation…take you back from them…and always have the lyrics from Little Mix themselves in 2017:

“Who got the power? I got the, I got the power I got the, I got the power I got the, I got the power Hold up!”

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: James Abrahart / Camille Purcell / Dano Omelio

Power lyrics © Bmg Gold Songs, 360 Music, Artist Publishing Group East, Robopop Musik, Sony/atv Music Publishing Allegro (uk), Jayded Ink Publishing

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rvnjun · 6 years

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nct 2018 reacts | their idol crush gets made fun of by an mc

warnings: idk if this is a warning but the reader gets made fun of for their looks sometimes genre: angst but all fluffy paring: nct x fem!reader a/n: I didn't add gifs because i'm lazy and my computer crashes when I try adding more than 9 gifs to a post

taeil

Taeil would be playing with his hands, he was very nervous, it wasn't easy being on the same show as the person you've been crushing on forever. His ears would perk up when he heard your name mentioned. “You look like a frog trying to walk on two legs,” the mc said while watching your dancing. Immediately he felt his heart drop. He looked at your expression and felt his anger boil, it was obvious that you were hurt. “Hey, dancing isn't easy, you should try it,” Taeil spoke quietly while looking at his hands. He looked up to see you smiling brightly at him

taeyong

“How can a leader be so quiet and reserved? Shouldn't it be you to peak up and not your members?” the host asked after another membered explained the album and not you. “Well actually during comebacks someone gets assigned to remember what to say about the album, its not always the leader,” Taeyong defended. He could tell you seemed hurt and he didn't like seeing his biggest crush offended. The host nodded in response, he didn't expect Taeyong to defended you like that, he was intimidated. Once the camera were off you'd go over and thank him for sticking up for you.

johnny

“I literally didn't know that you were in this comeback. Where were you in the mv and where are your lines?” the host asked while looking at you. Truth be told, you didn't know why you didn't get many lines nor why you didn't have much screen time. “I really don't know,” you mumbled while looking at the water bottle in front of you. Johnny nodded his head, he knew what it was like to work so hard for something and have it still be out of your reach. The hosts laughed “Apparently there is something very wrong with you,” he said while trying to move on to the next topic. Johnny rolled his eyes, he placed a reassuring hand over yours and gave you a calming smile. “Don't listen to him, okay? Even though you don't have many lines this comeback you shine brighter than your members,” he encouraged. You nodded your head and tried to calm your beating heart. Johnny's words really helped you and you made sure that you needed to hank him the next time you saw him

yuta

“If we are talking about looks here than Y/N is definitely at the bottom,” the mc said while laughing along with the others. Your eyes widened, you were surprised to hear his words. Yuta was too, he had always had a crush on you and thought of you as the most beautiful women he had ever met. “No, Y/N would be at the top,” Yuta corrected while sending the mc a deathly glare. You giggled and sent a smirk over to mc. Yuta couldn't help but laugh at your new found confidence

ten

Your Korean wasn't the best and you'd be the first person to admit it. Despite knowing about your lack of Korean speaking skills you didn't like being made fun of for them. However making fun of your speaking seemed to be what every host did, it was their favorite thing. Ten had noticed this, throughout the entirety of filming the host would reoccurringly laugh at how you said things or when you forgot a word. By the end of filming Ten noticed that you weren't speaking as much, he would feel extremely bad so he approached you and said. “Y/N dont listen to them, its not easy learning another language. I bet none of them can speak 2 languages (or more).” You smiled at his words, he had a point. “Thanks, Ten,” you said with a charming smile. Ten would nod and decide to help you for the rest of filming, he didnt care if the fans noticed

doyoung

“And you are the main vocalist? How in the world did that happen?” the host asked after listening to you singing your favorite song on your new album. You were clearly taken back by his statement, you had been called a terrible vocalist before but always by angi fans, never by a host. “And you are the main host? How in the world did that happen?” Doyoung sasssed back while sending the host a glare. You giggled at him causing his heart to flutter. The host simply looked at the floor and burned red in embarrassment while everyone laughed at him

kun

Kun was standing next to you while your members talked about your new song and the highlight parts. He was already extremely nervous because of this comeback and being next to his crush made his nerves 10x worse. “I keep forgetting your not a 6 membered group and that there is 7 of you,” the host said while gesturing to you. You had taken a hiatus because of health problems and this was your first comeback back. Kun couldn't control his expression, his faced formed into confusion before it went to pure anger. Once the camera were off and you guys were leaving Kun leaned over and whispered in your ear “Don't listen to him Y/N. Sometimes I forget you aren't a solo artist because you shine so much compared to your members,” he winked at you before walking away. You brought your hand up to your heart and tried to control its rapid beating

jaehyun

Jaehyun awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck while the host started asking questions about his personal life. When his ideal type was mentioned the host brought up if any of the other girls on the show matched his ideal type. Truthfully, he wanted to answer yes and mention you but of course he knew that he couldn't do that. “Well I can tell you this, it isnt Y/N,” the host added while making everyone laugh except for you and Jaehyun. Jaehyun could tell from your expression that you were hurt, being made fun of for your looks was a recurring thing for you on variety shows. “Actually, I was going to say Y/N is the closest person to my ideal type,” he said making your cheeks turn crimson

winwin

Winwin didn't know what to say or do, all he knew was that he wanted to stick up for you. He looked at the hosts before choosing to not speak up yet and instead say something later. Once the filming was over you were mentally and physically exhausted. “Y/N? Id like to apologize for not sticking up for you earlier, I should have said something,” he said with an apologetic smile. You shook your head “Its okay Winwin, im glad you said something now,” you said making him feel much better, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Uh, here is my number. Call if you need anything,” Winwin said before rushing away to his managers

jungwoo

Jungwoo took a bite of the ice cream and continued to walk with a skip in his step. Today was a good day, the sun was shining, he got ice cream, and he was able to film a show with his idol crush. “You know Y/N, I wouldn't eat on camera if I were you, you look like a donkey,” the mc said while they changed the cameras out. “Oh,,,okay,” you said while tossing the cone away. You felt sick to your stomach, why hasn't someone told you the truth before.”Y/N,” Jungwoo mumbled while walking next to you. You looked away, embarrassed to be called a donkey while in the presence of Jungwoo. “Don't listen to him, you look perfectly fine, stunning actually,” he said with a cheeky grin. You giggled at his words and thank him. Jungwoo placed a short but sweet kiss on your cheek

lucas

You followed close behind Lucas, he tall stature and broad shoulders helped shield you from the harsh winds. He had told you to stay behind him, that he could lead the way back and you felt bad. You wanted to be able to help out more but you were already sick due to the lack of food and the freezing rain. Byungman had insisted that you and Lucas go and find some wood but what eh didn't realize that a huge storm was going to hit. Now you two were stuck in it while trying to get back to base camp. After what felt like hours you were completely worn out, and it was noticeable. Your fever had raised and you kept coughing. Once you got back Lucas was beyond worried for you “Y/N you're so useless right now and you're literally the ugliest thing i've ever seen,” one of the guests on the show said while laughing. Lucas scrunched his face up in confusion “She is sick, id like to see you try and walk 2 miles in this storm while sick. I think she still looks beautiful,” Lcas said while giving yo a soft smile.

mark

“Y/N you look like a lifeless corpse,” the host said with a laugh while pointing at your makeupless face. You looked at him with wide eyes and hid yourself behind your hands. “Im sorry, let me go apply my makeup,” you said while turning around and returning to your room. “Y/N I think you look even more stunning, if that's possible,” he smoothly flirted without realizing. The hosts were surprised by his words, just like you. “Oh my, thank you Mark,” you giggled while removing your hands from your face with a new found confidence causing Mark to smile proudly.

renjun

You sat in the chair and played with your fingers while you waited to be called back on set. Biting your lip you did your best to hide back the tears but it was really hard. No one liked getting made fun of for their looks, especially not in front of their crush. You looked up and wiped your tears when you heard someone in front of you cough. “Hey Y/N,” Renjun said while he looked down at you. “Hello Renjun,” you simply said before looking back down. You tried to hold them back but they kept falling.”Y/N don't listen to them, you're a beautiful girl, there literally isnt a single flaw on you,” Renjuns words took you by surprise. You looked up at him with light pink cheeks. Renun sighed and cupped your face in his hands before wiping your tears with his thumb. “I mean it”

jeno

Jeno held the microphone tighter than usual, his eyes were burning holes into the camera and his poster was picture perfect. “Y/N, you read the wrong line, who invited you to be the guess mc?” the other mc asked while staring at you. Jeno furrowed his eyebrows and looked over at you. You lightly laughed and tried to keep a smile. Once the camera were off you rushed away so you could cry. “Y/N!” Jeno called out while reaching for your hand. You stopped in your tracks and looked at him with a wry smile. “Don't listen to him, you did great,” he said sending an eruption of butterflies in your stomach

haechan

Haechan scoffed at the hosts joke. “Its not cool to make fun of someone for something they cant control,” he said while sending him a sharp glare. The host looked back at Haechan “What did you just say to me?” he asked, testing the younger boy. “I said dont make fun of someone for something they cant control,” Haechan snapped back. You watched from Haechan side with a glint in your eyes. No one had ever stuck up for you like that. “Thank you haechan, I mean it,” you mumbled to him before leaning up and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. Haechan watched in awe as you walked ahead, his hand went up to the spot where your lips once were and he beamed

jaemin

You yelped slightly as you slipped on the floor, your hand reached out for something to hold onto so you wouldn't fall. Grabbing Jaemins forearm tightly you caught your balance. You sent Jaemin an apologetic smile, he had been helping you out all day. “Wow Y/N, dont you think Jaemin is tired of taking care of you, its like he is babysitting,” the host started to laugh at his own joke, others joined in. You stopped and looked over at him. Jaemin didnt mind taking care of you, you were his biggest crush and he liked having you cling to him. “Please dont put words in my mouth, I dont mind it at all,” he said with giving you a soft smile

chenle

The host stared at your beat red face, you were in the middle of trying to think of a reply but couldn't come up with anything. Instead you opted to sutter out a incomprehensible “yes.” The host rolled his eyes at you before looking at the producer “Why did you invite her, she can't even answer a simple question. How are you a idol?” he tried to play it off as funny but you were very much hurt by it. You knew you were shy and awkward and you did your best to get over it. “I think her shyness makes her even more cuter,” Chenle piped up out of nowhere. You sent Chenle a thankful smile, no one had ever stuck up for you like that, especially not a cute boy

jisung

Jisung watched in awe as your body moved to the beat perfectly, he was completely mesmerized by your dancing. Once you were done you smiled proudly, you had noticed the way Jisung was looking at you and it made you feel all giddy inside. “And you call yourself a dancer?” the mc asked while giving you a sharp stare. Jisungs eyes widened, he didnt even know what came over him when he spoke “No offense but she is the most amazing dancer id ever seen.” Once Jisung realized what he said he glanced over at you and saw you giving him the biggest heart eyes he had ever seen, he put his hand up to his mouth and tried to hide his growing smile

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rose-harmon · 5 years

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Fallen Angel || Solo

When: Happens after the thread with Finley to the present moment. (about a week or so between) Where: Rose’s apartment, Crownsville Hosptial What?: After the blowout with Finley, Rose finds herself in a very good place to make a very bad decision. The choice she makes has her falling back into the days when she was ruled by her addiction. Notes: I left the time between her fall from grace to when she’s in the hospital open so that if anyone wants to plot to be part of it, is able to. If you want to be someone who was with her during the week she disappeared, go for it. Want to be the one who helped and called 911 or something, do it! Literally, all plots are welcomed, hit me up! I’m excited for this! But basically, since she fell back into her addiction, Rose has been MIA. She hasn’t been answering her phone or anything.

Rose was an expert in bad decisions. Whether they had been a product of her mind or of someone else’s, didn’t really matter. But she had gotten better at avoiding bad decisions. For a year and a half now, Rose had been really good at avoiding bad decisions. If she was being honest, she probably deserved some sort of reward for it. It had been a very difficult and taxing feat to accomplish. Then again, being sober had been reward enough. Being alive was enough. Wasn’t it?

However, one can only avoid their nature for so long. And for Rose, a series of unfortunate events led her back to the point in her life where she could make a really bad decision again.

The blow out with Finley had occurred only two hours ago. But in a short time, Rose had been able to place herself on the precipice of ruining her life all over again.

The words exchanged between the once close women had left a hole in her heart and she probably would have been fine, if Finley hadn’t left her coat.

Actually, no, Rose would have been fine if she had been ignorant to the fact that this coat always contained some form of a drug. It was Finley’s drug coat…and Rose had seen the goods fished from it more times than Finley knew she had

If there had been any will power in her, Rose would have left the coat alone. The will power had been annihilated by her deep, dark need to wash away her reality. It had taken a momentary bad decision to search the pockets of her coat to lead her where she was now.

The baggie of cocaine laid on the coffee table where Rose had thrown it, calling to her, beckoning her to give in. Just one line. That’s all it would take to numb the mess in her head and the ache in her heart. One line and her problems would be over. It would be so easy. Rose’s hand itched at her side, her feet propelling her forward but as she took the first step towards the one thing that could make all her troubles go away for short while, Rose stopped herself. She shook her head, “No… no…no, no, Rose.” She muttered, turning around and biting at her fingernail nervously. Her other hand tapped anxiously at her thigh, a battle raging inside of her. It would be so easy. What was one line? It was just one. Right? Uneasily, her eyes darted back to the stupid little baggie. She needed to walk away. She needed to go. She couldn’t go. Her feet felt cemented. How was she supposed to walk away?

Call me anytime, day or night. Whenever you need me. I promise I’ll be there.

Theodore’s words – his promise – rang loudly through her mind and they were the only light in the darkness that shrouded her. It was late – but it should still be relatively early for Theodore given the time difference. Without a second thought, Rose dialed his number, anxiously counting the rings that met her ears.

Nothing.

Her anxiety grew as she was greeted with his voicemail. Okay…okay, text him. Her panicked mind instructed her and with shaky fingers, Rose sent her best friend – her source of support – a message.

[[SMS 12:32 AM]] Teddy, please pick up [[SMS 12:33 AM]] Teddy! 🚨⚠️ [[12:40 AM]] – unanswered call [[12:45 AM]] – unanswered call [[SMS 12:53 AM]] Teddy, please…. I really need you right now. I did something bad and I think I’m about to do something even worse. It’s code red. [[1:00 AM]] – unanswered call

“Fuck!” Rose cursed, her body began to tremble as her phone was thrown onto the cushions of her couch, running her hands through her long hair nervously. He knew code red. It was their code. It was their way to communicate with one another when they needed the other the most – in a way only they could understand. It was their code when they were teetering. It was their code. Why wasn’t he answering their code?

Inside of her, a panic festered, a gaping hole, a familiar emptiness. She should have seen this coming. No, she had seen this coming, but she had stopped herself from pulling away because Teddy had sworn it wouldn’t happen. Rose had shared with him the tale of her life, every aspect of it – from her neglectful parents to Elizabeth and her abandonment, to Andrew and everything in between. Theodore had sworn that he would be by her side – he wouldn’t become like the rest. They had called each other family…but Rose quickly came to realize that family was just a word people through around. Family meant nothing. Because everyone who was supposed to be her family in her life had left and abandoned her so why would Teddy be any different?

It had been three days since Teddy had left Crownsville and gone back to Hollywood Hills. Surprisingly, she had been…okay for the most part. Though his departure had left an ache in her heart, Rose had been clinging onto his promises with a vice grip – You’re my ride or die. My lil sis - knowing what losing someone else so dear to her would cause.

Many people didn’t understand their relationship sometimes, and Rose didn’t care or expect them too. But the two of them – though from such different lives – held so much in common, mostly their struggles with addiction and being clean from it. In addition to that, in their own ways, they could relate to each other in other areas. They both harbored a deep-rooted phobia of letting others close to their hearts, debilitating anxiety when someone did manage to get close to them, and an unshakable abandonment complex. Because of all of this, they understood each other and could encourage one another in life’s journey. They were each other’s affirmations.

So, when faced with the emotional taxing night where everything seemed to be falling apart or was about to, she had turned to the one who could talk her out of it. Maybe she would have gone to Niklaus, but he was still ignorant to the dark shadows she dealt with, to the darkness of her past. Though she had tried to bring him to the light of her reality, she hadn’t been able to. Just as her confession was going to break through, Alaia had woken up. Rose had shut up immediately – she would never expose that sweet girl to the darkness of the world. And perhaps, it was for the best. She didn’t want to bring Niklaus to this part of her. It would open his eyes that she wasn’t good enough – she was a mess and how he could want someone like that? Especially around Alaia. Even if she had been better.

Or maybe she should have reached out to her boyfriend and allowed him to walk her through the temptation she was being faced with, let him guide her away from it by simply inviting her to his home. Maybe, she should have allowed him to know her truth because wasn’t that the point of being with someone? Of being in a relationship? Of loving someone? Wasn’t that what she had preached to Theodore over and over and over again?

If Rose was being the tiniest bit honest, she didn’t want him to help her. A dark, tiny part of her, wanted to fall back into her habit, always searching for the little give in her will power to take over. And tonight, her habit had found it. It manifested in a panic – using her fear of abandonment and her constant sense of worthlessness and guilt to trick and lead her down the all too familiar rabbit hole. Rose followed almost a little too willingly.

With a shaky hand, Rose sat herself on the floor in front of her coffee table. The baggie’s contents were emptied, and it didn’t take her long to cut lines out. As the lines stared at her, Rose realized she still had the chance to pull back; to not do this and figure out another way.

Hazel eyes fell from the cocaine back to the phone she had picked up before settling on the floor. As the screen lit up, Rose was met with nothing. For a moment, her thumb hesitated over the phone, itching to tap a few buttons and get Niklaus’ number. But as she was about to search for his contact, she began to imagine what would happen. His eyes would be opened. Rejection was the only outcome she could foresee and losing Niklaus because of her vices wasn’t something she thought she could handle, especially not after just losing Finley. After losing Theodore. And witnessing the loving gleam in his eyes morph into disdain and judgment wasn’t something Rose ever wanted to see.

It was the tipping point.

Memories she had created in the past year and half of her sobriety ran through her mind in those last seconds. The first time Niklaus has pushed her up against the wall, his lips searing as they met her hungrily. Then it compared the soft and gentle gleam in his blue eyes now; the way his eyes still gleamed with desire for her, but it was only there buttressed by his feelings for her. The same feelings that made her heart stutter in its rhythm whenever he crossed her mind. She replayed the many nights they spent cooking dinner together now, singing and dancing and goofing around with Alaia in the kitchen. There would be nothing left of that after this.

It moved to all the friendships she had cultivated with so many people around town. To the first day, she had volunteered at Top of Tail, her first day at AIR, the day she finally got her own place.

It floated to Teddy – and how unashamedly she had tried to pursue him the first time they met and how utterly unappealing that was now. She let herself relish in the sentimentality of having – even for a short time, even if it had been a lie – someone in her corner who loved her unconditionally and who understood her completely. What is felt like to have a brother, a family. Something she had never had growing up. And how he had taken that away from her.

Then it went to Finley, sweet, dear Finley. The woman that had found a way to weave so deeply into her heart. They had come a long way from the first night they met. The fist to the jaw transformed to gentle kisses along her jawline, soft fingers tickling each other’s skin. And now…what was left of that? Brokenness, betrayal, guilt, and anger – a severed relationship. A lost connection. A lost piece of herself, even as unwilling as she was to admit it.

By the time the memories are looped around in her head, Rose was already one line deep.

And suddenly, as the rush of the high, the boost of confidence and the startling numbness overcame her, she couldn’t fathom why she had ever given this up.

The past week had gone by in a haze for Rose. Her fall from grace had not been as mild as she thought it would have been. The one line had turned to many more, constantly searching for that high, the sense of numbness. The burst of energy.

In her intoxicated mind, Rose hadn’t realized how much she had fallen off the grid. For a week now, she had gone missing. Her scheduled work at AIR forgotten. Her volunteer time at the shelter ignored. The calls and texts from her loved ones not even opened. She was too busy searching for the next bump, the next line.

Her vice consumed her like it had in her younger years

Rose didn’t truly capture how far down the rabbit hole she had fallen until her consciousness was stirred by the rhythmic beating coming from beside her. It caused her features to contort in discomfort, the beeping aggravated the headache that she was becoming more and more aware of.

It took her a second before she was able to figure out what that annoying sound was and when she did, Rose blanched, overcome by the disbelief that, somehow, she was here again

Upon her awakening, there was a flurry of action around her. Nurses coming around, checking her vitals, checking her. Some held faces of concern and empathy, others held looks of judgment. To those, Rose was just another junkie that had landed in the hospital after being a little too careless with her habit. But they were all too familiar looks.

As the doctor came in, Rose wandered who had noticed the first signs of her overdose. Which on her “friends” had picked up on her restlessness, her confusion, the rise of her body temperature? Had she lost consciousness? Who had called 911? Or who had brought her to the hospital?

As the doctor spoke, no doubt providing answers that probably would have answered her questions, Rose was too lost in her mind to really listen to what he was saying. “How long have I been here?”

The question was blurted out, abrupt and she was slightly stunned by how rough her voice sounded. The doctor sighed, clearly a bit agitated that she hadn’t been listening. “A couple of days. We had to sedate you to help keep your blood pressure and heart rate down – effects of the overdose.”

“I know…I know what the overdose does.” There was a defensive undercurrent in her tone, snapping at the doctor that had probably saved her life. “When can I leave?” She just wanted out. As stupid as it sounded, she just wanted another line to forget that somehow, she had managed to land in this position again.

“We want to keep you for a couple of days…you were in very bad shape, Ms. Harmon.”

It was the last thing the doctor said before leaving after a page was sent to him and Rose was left to sulk in her bed.

It started as an unfamiliar sting in the back of her eyes and suddenly, Rose’s body was shaking as sobs quaked her petite form. It was no surprise that she was here now – the young woman knew it had only been a matter of time – but it still broke her entirely that she had allowed herself to fall this far again.

In the end, Rose realized in amidst bitter tears, she would always be an addict and there was no running from that. But now, as she covered her face and cried into the palms of her hands, Rose was faced with the same decision she had to make almost two years ago – was she going to be an addict that would one day be killed by her vices or was she going to be an addict that made the choice to live again?

#drug addiction tw #drug use tw #addiction tw #mention of child neglect tw #drug mention tw #solo #crownsvillecall #ngl i kinda rushed at the end #it has taken me forever to write this and it was too painful

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alexandramartinezwrites · 2 years

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Missive 002: Linda Ronstadt Appreciation Society

I was searching for reviews of Linda Ronstadt’s ‘Canciones de mi Padre’ a month or so back and came across this one archived on a fan site. It’s very bad right off the bat and doesn’t get much better. I don’t really blame the critic because it simply, truly, was a different time. Comparing Linda Ronstadt to a waitress at a Mexican restaurant chain actually seems kind of tame for how women in music were written about in 1988. Misogyny and sexism aside, the review is bad because it should have never even been written by who it was written by. David Browne, you were just simply out of your element here. I’m not saying that someone from a different culture can’t write about or even listen to music that isn’t a part of the culture they were born into. What I’m saying is that if you’re going to do that you’re going to need to do the reading. Browne calls the songs “self-pitying” in what I perceive to be a derogatory manner. Somebody please play this man literally anything sang by a Mexican man. Just punch whatever numbers into the jukebox at your local Mexican restaurant. I’ll wait.

Where Browne loses all credibility is when he says mariachi “has always been a slightly cornball genre.” It’s giving… racism? But not the spicy kind? Let’s just say it’s capital I Ignorance. Whatever. I didn’t mean to write a whole treatise against David Browne but bro, this review? You should try to have it scrubbed from the internet.

Early on in 2020, my sister and I downloaded the Canciones de mi Padre Great Performances episode from YouTube. We had figured out how much my mom loved that record and wanted to save it in case it was taken down. When my mom was still able to walk around or even sit on the couch, we’d put it on for her if she was having a particularly bad day, and she would immediately react to it in a positive way. A lot of the time she couldn’t remember what she had for breakfast but she could remember every single line of every single song. A month or two ago, she started saying she didn’t want to listen to the record anymore. When I asked her why she said it made her too sad. It broke my heart. A couple days ago I was in her room and “Los Laureles” started playing when I had her music on shuffle. I instinctively started singing along. And she smiled! I kept singing and she kept smiling. The same thing happened tonight when Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’” came on.

I am constantly thinking back to what my life was like before this time. How difficult I thought things were. I had no idea. Why would anyone want to look into their future in their early 30s and see this? My sister told me today when I was in tears about my mom’s reaction to my singing, that I should be happy that I am making her happy. I understand what she means. But I can’t. Life seems so unfair. Driving home from grocery shopping, Stevie Wonder’s “Sir Duke” came on the radio. I have always loved that song, but this week the lines “music knows that it is and always will be one of the things that life just won't quit” seem like something I can truly understand.

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pellicano-sanguino · 6 years

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Random thoughts while watching... OSK Revue?

I finally saw my first OSK Revue show (Dracula, 2017), so thought I'd write about it. This is not a proper review, just a bunch of random thoughts. I will be making a lot of comparisons to Takarazuka in this, and please understand that I do not mean to imply that OSK is just a zuka copycat, I simply wanted to compare the two and see what they have in common and what not (also, all opinions are about this production and these actresses only, I'd need to see more shows to form a proper, better educated opinion on OSK's style as a whole.).

First impression was a surprise at how small the production is. I knew OSK isn't as big as zuka, but still, the theater's stage was very small and there were only about ten actresses, many of them pulling several roles, I think. I felt like I was watching a Bow Hall show cut in half both by stage length and actress numbers. Having a small number of actresses causes there to be some slower, quieter scenes, where a character monologues for a while so that everyone else has time to do the costume change.

Even so, it still felt very similar to zuka. Despite the small stage, they do dance, including a post-show minirevue that includes the main otokoyakus dancing in pretty, sparkly tailcoats and a duet dance with the main leads. The makeup is similar but there's some small differences that I'm not expert enough to point out (don't know anything about makeup). There are some stylistic differences in zuka makeup too, so it felt like I was watching a sixth zuka troupe and this was their troupe's personal style.

Minirevue dancing (and look, some parade feathers. Small feathers but feathers none the less.)

Otokoyaku still sing like otokoyaku and musumeyakus sound just like zuka musumes. I liked the leading otokoyaku's voice, it was pleasant to listen. Though she has to do a lot of angry angsting throughtout the musical, which is occasionally bad for her voice, making it sound like she has a bit of a sore throat. The songs were ok, nothing particularly memorable or catchy. A lot of the music is rather simple, like piano music and such.

I admit, when I was putting the disk in the DVD player, I was chanting in my head ”Please follow the book at least barely, please don't be weird and rewrite the story wildly.” Well, no such luck, this isn't a book faithful adaptation. Which unfortunately leads to me not having a clue what the hell is going on most of Act 1. But I am happy that it's not a comedy or a super weird adaptation.

I have to say that seeing a completely serious take on a vampire musical is a breath of fresh air and something I wish zuka could do. Don't get me wrong, I love the lighthearted vampire shows like Seal of Roses (which maybe didn't aim for lighthearted but kinda accidentally became one). Zuka always makes the vampire stories, well... kinda weird (I've already ranted about the randomness, plot holes and inconsistent vampire lore in my Random Thoughts While Watching Zuka #4). I appreciate them thinking outside the box and surprising me instead of recycling the most generic vampire story plots and tropes, but as a vampire lover I would die for vampire show that actually takes itself seriously. I suppose the Poe Family show is a serious take on the subject (no comedic parts or weird story elements), but that is probably thanks to the source material. Zuka can do cool&dark, they've done Elisabeth, so if they wanted they could make truly awesome vampire shows.

While I said that this is a serious take on a vampire story, there's still a short comedic song number in the beginning of Act 1, where a bunch of reporters try to interview Dracula after his arrival at London, only to have him scream NO COMMENTS at them.

This show uses sound and screen effects a lot. Most of the time they make sense (like hearing the sound of a train in the station) but there are moments where I hear a random noise or see strange images projected on the screens and go ”What the hell was that?”

There are only three big roles in this show: Dracula, Mina and Jonathan Harker. There's also this one lady in black who I suspect to be the spirit of Dracula's dead wife, who he grieves and longs for all the time. So yeah, the beginning of Act 2 reveals to us that this show has taken inspiration from Coppola's Dracula and lifts the vampire's origin from the movie. He was a warlord in medieval times (which means he's dressed in armor and has a sword YES me likey) and somehow a false letter was brought to his wife claiming that he had fallen in battle, which led to her committing suicide. When human Drac got home to discover his wife dead, he was devastated and broken, that is, until he hears that the church refuses to bury his wife because suiciders are sinners who go to hell. There's a literal DUN DUN DUUUUN sound effect as the count builds up rage, then curses God and allows the forces of evil to corrupt his body in order to revenge. He then proceeds to kill all of the priests/monks/whatever the church folks were supposed to be.

This slaughter of innocent unarmed humans would be brutal and super dramatic, but the fight choreography leaves... much to improve. Yeah, zuka battle choreos can look like they're from the 60's Batman too, with punches that miss by a mile, but here... the stabs are so lazy it looks like the poor victims are literally walking into his sword.

If Heaven won't accept

my suicided wife

I'll follow her to Hell!

(...and lick her knife.)

Not gonna lie, this is something I haven't seen zuka do. Sure, they've implied licking things, but it's always done quite swiftly and * elegantly * and not, well, like this. Tongue out and all, literally licking the knife prop.

I was curious to see if the kisses are still fake or not, since OSK is free to have their own traditions and don't have to follow rules set by Hankyu. Also, I keep hearing rumors that OSK is supposedly more daring than zuka when it comes to love scenes. Not in this show, at least. The romantic scenes are very chaste and more cute than sexy (also, the blood drinking scene, while definitely romanticized and very nice&dramatic, not any hotter than the blood drinking scenes in zuka). And the kisses are very much fake. Oh well, the actresses are spared of messing up their lipstick.

Speaking of messing up lipstick, I know that stain is supposed to be blood but it looks like a group of amorous ladies gave the count several sloppy kisses.

So, my guess for the plot is that Dracula comes to London in search for the woman who is the reincarnation of his wife. To lure women for him to see, he puts up... a fashion show or something? Dresses are on display, including dead wife's wedding dress. Which Mina gets to wear, and Dracula is immediately convinced she's the incarnation and for the rest of the musical never calls Mina by her real name, just by the wife's name. Which is... Elisabeth. I don't remember what the wife's name was in Coppola's movie, but still, the dramatic way Dracula pronounces this name does make it sound like it was lifted from another musical.

In Act 2 Jonathan, on his way to rescue his girlfriend from the vampire's castle, meets an annoying little kid. And yeah, just like in zuka, there are no child actors in OSK, children are played by adult women using cutesy kiddie voice and being super genki. But then the kid finds the knife that Elisabeth used to suicide herself and turns to face the audience while holding it, and I was like ”Great. The annoying kid has turned into a creepy kid.” If the child had turned out to be a vampire and in team Drac all along, that would have been an awesome plot twist. But instead he's actually an angel or something like that, providing Jonathan with the weapon that can kill the vampire.

Dracula has a bunch of vampiric minions at his castle, not just the three brides. I have to ask, what is it with vampire shows having one main vampire who behaves normally and then having a bunch of background vampires/minions who speak/sing like they're high as a kite and lumber around dancing artsy inteeeerpretive dances? It's... weird. Why are some vampires normal and some complete fruitbats?

This Dracula must be the angstiest version of the character I've ever seen. There's occasionally great moments where he's charismatic, seductive or in rage mode, but the majority of time he is either silently depressed or actively whining (even many of his angry scenes come out as more whiny than aggressive). It's a very dialogue heavy show and because of the language barrier and free adapting of the story, I have no idea what his angsty dialogues are about. But whatever he says, he actually manages to win Mina's sympathy and they dance together. Even if they kiss, I still think Mina's feelings are more pity and less sincere romantic interest. Also, I should point out that I have nothing against depressed, angsty, reluctant vampires in general, it's just that I don't usually associate that kind of behavior with Dracula (depression and angst is more sir Francis Varney's thing.). Dracula is cold, ruthless, cunning and irredeemably evil, not some emotional lovelorn wreck.

I have said this before and will say again: Dracula does not aishiteiru.

Jonathan makes an attempt to save Mina but doesn't get to kill the count. Which is good because while the Jonathan of the book would definitely want and be able to fight the count, this musical portrayed the character as a cute and awkward softie nerd (I approve, not all male heroes need to be tough guys) and avoiding getting his hands wet with blood was a good move. Poor guy would be traumatized for life, even if it would be to save his girlfriend, he's just not a killer. Instead, Dracula decides to let the lovers go free and suicides himself, like he usually does in adaptations where they make him have a romance with Mina.

You know how in zuka there's the tradition that in the end the dead characters make an appearance dressed in white, to sing and prance around in an afterlife epilogue. Well, not in this show, but there is something kinda similar. In the ending scene the spirit of Elisabeth appears behind the dying count and poses dramatically with him, spreading her cape like white bat wings, taking him with her to afterlife. I think it looks cool.

To end this, let's talk about the blood drinking scene. In all vampire stories, these are the most important scenes, in my opinion. Blood drinking is what vampires do, it's their trademark thing, and if you chicken out of showing it or handle it lazily, then why the hell are you making a vampire story in the first place. You don't make Phantom of the Opera adaptation and fail to have the unmasking scene be the most dramatic and memorable scene, and similarly, you don't make a vampire story and fail to deliver the blood drinking scenes properly. Yes, I have weirdly strong opinions about this, deal with it.

Very early in Act 1 we see Dracula suffer from malnutrition, his hair turning gray and his knees failing, making him slump to the ground, very visibly suffering. For emergency he empties a small vial of blood that doesn't seem to make him get any better. And it is this moment when Jonathan decides to visit him for the first time for work-related reasons (no idea what his profession is in this story. In the fashion industry?). So, we have a thirsty vampire and a nice, cute bloodbag in the same room all alone.

Me: Drink him!

Dracula: Nope. I'd rather suffer. :)

What the hell? In the book he totally noms Jonathan. Is this because he's a male? This Dracula afraid to drink from someone who has icky boy blood? Oh well, he gets better later anyway, so I assume he gets some blood off-stage. But still, it was very confusing to see a starving vampire not take advantage of an opportunity of some easy blood.

Well, later Dracula is introduced to Mina and immediately decides ”This is the One.” And I cheer him on.

Me: Drink her!

Dracula: No. Now is not a good time. :)

Me: Damnit! DRINK SOMEBODY!!!

We have to wait all the way to the end of Act 1, but finally, we get a genuine on-screen blood drinking scene. Just as important as the moment of blood drinking itself is what leads up to it. In this musical it's Jonathan piecing together all the clues and finally getting Dracula's real identity (in a rather nerdy monologue of stuff like ”...Dracul means Dragon, and the A at the end makes it Son of the Dragon... wasn't there a warlord named like that in Romania hundreds of years ago...”).

Nerdsplaining time!

Terrified with his discovery he tries to save Mina, who Dracula has just kidnapped, spilling the beans for her as well. The revelation of Dracula's vampiric nature scares the two humans and there's plenty of dialogue that goes over my horizon, but I do get that the thing that makes Dracula snap is when Mina confesses to loving Jonathan.

The jealous vampire then starts to torture Jonathan by... some kind of Darth Vader mind-choking magic. Well, I suppose it's choking, because Jonathan holds his hands around his throat as if struggling against invisible fingers, but the sound effect doesn't suggest choking at all. It actually sounds much more gruesome and painful, a nasty ripping sound, as if the count is telekineticly tearing the poor man limb from limb and simultaneously flaying him alive. Eww, it's a gross sound effect.

Mina obviously can't idly just watch as her boyfriend is painfully tortured to death while she has the power to put an end to it. To save Jonathan, she loudly exclaims that she doesn't love him. And the count, being a little bit of an idiot here, buys it. Strangely, Jonathan seems to buy it too, crying Mina's name in disbelief. The torture ends (thank goodness), and to make sure no harm comes to Jonathan, Mina tells Dracula that if you're really a vampire and if it's blood you want, you can have mine!

Just let me gather this bothersome veil...

...and Behold! Vampire bait.

She dramaticly pulls the veil of the wedding dress on one shoulder and reveals her neck. I love this. And so does Dracula. This is the one moment where his eyes actually light up with passion and while he attempts to stay cool, you can see his chest rise as his breathing gets faster with excitement. Darn right, count. Blood offered by free will is the best stuff there is. And it was about time you finally drank someone.

It's always interesting when humans offer their blood to the vampire out of free will, because there's usually good and complex reasons behind it, and this is no exception. Mina doesn't offer her blood out of sympathy or under the influence of vampiric hypnosis or even being seduced by the pretty blood drinker. It's offered by free will but it's very much not concensual. The offer of blood is the only way she can distract the vampire long enough to let Jonathan escape and get help. By playing along with the count's delusions about Mina being the reincarnation of his wife, she is cleverly buying time, manipulating him. Only, unfortunate for these two, there is no van Helsing or any other member of the book's league of merry vampirehunting men in this show for Jonathan to run to, so all he can do is to follow them to the castle and attempt a lone rescue mission (which fails).

Frankly, the one who eventually defeats Dracula (kinda) is Mina, who manages to win the count's sympathy (making him learn the good old ”if you really love someone, you'll want what's best for them and let them go instead of selfishly trying to force them to stay with you”). And this blood drinking scene is the first time we see that she is aware of the power she has over the vampire. Maybe in the end she didn't exactly intend to make him commit suicide, just trying to make him let them go, but old Drac was living a horribly depressed and angsty unlife anyway, so it doesn't surprise me that he decided to end it. That's why the (kinda). Mina has great influence over Dracula but I do think his decision to die a final death seems to be not a result of manipulation but a genuine decision. Though he still technically makes her do it, by forcibly placing the knife in her hands and then grabbing her wrists, stabbing himself, making her involuntarily deal the killing blow. Kinda dick move (Mina is quite horrified of this, understandably), but at least I'm happy Mina doesn't kill herself too in this one (yes, I'm still angry at that ending in 2011 Wao Youka's Dracula. The count kills himself so Mina can go back to being human and back to Jonathan. And then the dumb woman makes the count's sacrifice completely pointless by throwing away the life he attempted to save.) Dracula ends his unlife but Mina and Jonathan return to the world of the living, where they belong.

Final random thought: Knightly warlord Dracula looks a bit like Lancelot’s long lost, dangerously unhinged brother. (it’s the wig and the silver armor with blue details. The actresses are very different.)

#osk revue #dracula #random thoughts while watching osk

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