#something borrowed something blue / verse ii

[liarinlife]

verses.

1. something old, something new / verse i

canon verse. after the events of damien, mark realises the severity of his actions without the entity of the manor there to guide him so much, && promptly flees, creating fiction after fiction to avoid his guilt, past && villain. he seeks allies && characters to utilise against dark, pawns to stand against dark, to ultimately fall against his wrath — just to buy him more time to run. besides, it’s incredibly important in his eyes to satisfy the audience beyond reality too.

2. something borrowed, something blue / verse ii

deviates from canon. after the events of wkm, mark takes his old friend’s place as mayor of the city, where he becomes known as the ageless mayor who can do very little wrong. the city comes to worship their mayor in an incredibly cultish way, && mark, still influenced by the manor entity, rules the city without cease. perhaps less of a coward in this verse, he is no less mad or manipulative as mayor.

3. something broken and askew / verse iii

mark, redeemed && very much broken, sets about trying to pick up the pieces he left behind. this follows the canon of verse i, but unlike verse i, this mark is redeemed && trying much harder to be the person he once was. much less of a bastard, but don’t be fooled — he’s still not a great person.

4. something fake and not thought through / verse iv

mark becomes a youtuber and leads a double life; one as himself and one as mark fischbach, the lovable youtuber everyone knows as markiplier. in this verse mark is perhaps the most manipulative, aiming to convince everyone from his present he’s the hero, && everyone from his past that he’s changed, in order to use them later. ( disclaimer: in this verse, actor mark is posing as real - life youtuber mark, please don’t sue me or anything. )

5. someone not undone or true / verse v

set during the prologue, before the events of wkm. this can be before the affair or after, but mark is not quite as much of a mess in this verse as he is in others — at the same time, post - affair / pre - wkm mark is more broken in other ways. tread cautiously around him while the entity of the manor whispers so freely in his head.

[aminiatureworld]

Affection II

Characters: Childe, Ganyu, Kaeya, gn!reader

Word Count: 5,577

Warnings: None

Premise: Sometime we know something is impossible from the start. But still we walk towards it, even if we know it will hurt us. It’s only flirting, only a smile or a hug or some food. Even if nothing comes of it, there is nothing to regret. Even if it hurts.

In which the reader gives affection, expecting nothing in return.

Author’s Note: Evidently I’ve really missed writing these properly. I had such a great time writing, and I hope you guys enjoy these just as much as I did.

Also I’ve decided the version on Ao3 will now always be without bullet points, so if you prefer that format the link will be in the reblog.

Childe

You’d been floored by Childe pretty much since the day you two had met.

What had turned into the two of you meeting had started out a most unfavorable encounter. You’d gone to Lingju Pass, trying to survey some of the carvings of the old structure, and attempting to see the sort of methods used to construct such vast rocky complexes at the time. Unfortunately this goal had quickly turned into a goal of “don’t get caught”, as you’d found the Pass crawling with Fatui members. Though you weren’t nearly helpless, you’d also not come prepared for battle; and had spent most of the “fight” dodging around various blows while trying not to drop the expensive equipment that you’d borrowed from other Guild members.

Just as you’d come to the conclusion that the options were either drop everything and run or get thoroughly injured by a bunch of arrogant Snezhnayan soldiers there was a change in the air. The Fatui soldiers’ expression turned from one of glee to one of confusion, and then one of panic, as one by one a streak of blue began to throw them this way and that. As you regained focus of the terrain your realized that it wasn’t a streak at all but a person, a person who was wildly adept at sword play. Eventually the number of unconscious people had risen to five, and there was no one left but him and you.

“Need any help?”

The words might’ve been kind, had it not been for the smirk on the man’s face. Though you felt that the right answers would’ve probably been to scowl, you found you couldn’t, too wrapped up in the memory of this mysterious person darting this way and that, handling his water-made daggers with the grace of a ballet dancer.

“I’m Childe.” These words finally brought you back to the present.

“You’re a member of the Fatui.”

“I am.”

“Then why did you knock those guys out just now?”

“Boredom.”

You stared at Childe incredulously. Of course you’d heard his name, the man who, it was whispered, almost pulled Liyue into the sea. You’d formed a sort of mental picture of him completely divorced from the redhead now standing in front of you, bouncing slightly on his feet as he smiled cockily. He looked more like a rogue adventurer than one of the heads of a crime syndicate. Maybe that was why you found yourself infatuated, rather than afraid.

This infatuation only grew, fed by the encounters that you had with Childe. It seemed now you couldn’t avoid him, not that you wanted to. What had begun as a chance encounter multiplied into two, into four; soon enough you two had struck up a sort of friendship, one that baffled everyone else around you.

Of course you hadn’t lost all your sense, knowing quite well that the puppy love you were feeling could never be anything more. The way Childe talked about his work, about his duty to the Tsaritsa, made it very clear that he wouldn’t let a partner in his life or in his loyalties. And even if he changed his mind, why would he choose you? You were an adventurer sure, but you hadn’t even been able to properly defend yourself the first time the two of you met, and your oversight of that would’ve surely turned Childe away. Besides, Childe could probably make a partner out of anyone he wanted, if they were foolish enough. Why should that person be you?

Perhaps it was that knowledge that allowed you to be so free in your affection, spurred on by Childe’s own open nature. Hand holding, hugging, leaning one’s head on the other’s shoulder, it was the language of friendship that you two had adopted, and something that you greatly appreciated. There was something nice about a friendship in which one could be so open about caring about someone, without expecting things to go farther. Because you didn’t, you really didn’t. And though that might’ve been a bit painful, it was a small price to pay for Childe’s company.

“I’m going off to Mondstadt for a bit.”

“What?”

You drew away from Childe a bit to look into his face. The two of you were walking along the path towards Yaoguang Shoal, as Childe had taken a particular liking to the Starconches that lined its shores. Now he smiled awkwardly, squeezing your hand and shrugging his shoulders.

“I know, I know. There’s apparently this branch of the Fatui holed up there right now, and I’ve been asked to consult about something, though archons know what it is.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I’m not sure, I think about two weeks? I’m not sure what exactly is going on, but the troops really must be in disarray if they need me skulking around for the next two weeks.” He let out a awkward laugh.

“I’ll miss you.” You replied, bumping your head into his shoulder and frowning. “It’s very boring without you.”

“I’m sure you’ll be perfectly capable without me.” Childe smiled, one eyebrow raised slightly. “After all, what would you do if I left someday, permanently. You’d have to find a way without me.”

“Let’s not talk about that.” You replied hurriedly, switching the conversation towards something more pleasant. Unfortunately however the words had already been said, and the damage had already been done.

It had been two weeks since Childe had left for Mondstadt, and though normally you might’ve been waiting at the city gates for his return, you found yourself on the familiar road towards Lingju. Childe’s words had been ringing in your ears for the past two weeks, and you’d found the more time passed the more you kept thinking about them.

What would you do if I left someday, permanently. Is that what Childe truly wanted? To leave? The idea made your stomach hurt, as you began once more to run all your interactions through your head, as if trying to find a flaw in the strips of memory you had of Childe. Was that what Childe truly wanted, or was it simply that he was sick of you? When he’d said “you’d have to find a way without me” did that mean he wanted to find a way without you? Perhaps you’d been too forward, too demanding. Perhaps he’d managed to realize your feelings and felt repelled by them. Had it been too much, meeting him almost everyday for some periods of time, eating lunch together and sometimes dinner. What about that time you’d invited him over to your house to play a game? Had that been too much?

You sighed, dragging yourself over the final ridge. Sitting down to take a rest you closed you eyes. You hated that your mind wandered this way, that no matter what you couldn’t help but ask yourself again and again, what had you done. What would Childe think about this sad person laying on the ground, the sad part was you couldn’t answer that question.

The sound of footsteps brought you back to the present, and you let out a suppressed groan at the figures in your line of sight.

“Don’t you guys ever get posted anywhere else?” You rolled your eyes, reaching behind your back to summon your polearm.

“You’re trespassing.” The voice that came out of the Electro Vanguard was so deep and distorted as to be hilarious.

“Lastly I checked you were neither a citizen of Liyue, nor Rex Lapis, so if anyone’s “trespassing” on public territory it’s you.” You sighed. “Oh well. Unfortunately you caught me on a day where I’m somewhat prepared.” With that you lunged towards the Hydro Legionnaire and the fight began.

Fighting when one is already frustrated is both a blessing and a curse. The fight itself was almost invigorating, the first Fatui hit the ground and with it you felt part of your worries fade away, if only for the small window of time which this fight offered. Was this why Childe fought so much? The though crossed your mind as you whirled behind the Pyro Bracer and pressed as much Electro as you dared into the back of his head, tripping him with the staff of your polearm on his way down.

Soon enough there was only you and the Electro Vanguard left. Unfortunately you were beginning to feel the other side affect of anger, that being misfocus. Being more versed in using your polearm as a sort of lightning rod your found the Vanguard much harder to deal with, more than once barely diving out of the way of the hammer he was swinging around, surprisingly light on his feet considering what the weight must be. Your anger was quickly draining, turning into something more akin to panic, and as you found yourself stumbling more and more you realized that today was really, really not your day.

The Vanguard was becoming aware of how fast you were tiring, a gravelly sort of laugh emerging from behind his mask. As you found your with you back to the slope you wondered if it was just worth it to make an escape. The Fatui swung his hammer once more, barreling towards you. Having nothing left to do you put your polearm out in front of you, hoping that your arms were strong enough not to recoil against the inevitable blow. Closing your eyes you thought of nothing, drowning in a sea of panic. If there was any coherent part of your brain it wished that you weren’t here, that you just stayed home, or swallowed you pride and gone to the gate. But it was too late now, and you were about to get hit.

However the blow never landed, instead a loud sound pierced the air. Whipping your arms open you saw the Electro Vanguard stumble, his hammer having been dropped on the ground. He was grasping towards his ankle, in which was stuck an arrow, glowing a faint aquamarine. Swearing the Fatui member glanced around, before stumbling away, dragging his weapon and his left leg behind him like dead weight.

“Some things never change, huh?”

“Childe!” You whirled towards your once again savior, face burning from embarrassment. “I took out the rest of them this time.”

“I can see that,” said Childe, surveying the area, a telltale smirk on his face, “very impressive. Although, if I may suggest, next time try to take out the Electro Vanguard first, especially since you don’t wield a weapon made for pure damage.”

“Is this turning into a teaching moment?”

“Absolutely not.” Childe laughed.

You found the sound catching, and soon a smile spread across your face as you let your polearm disappear once more. You ran up to Childe, and were about to throw you arms around his neck in a characteristic hug, when the thoughts of before came ramming back into your brain. Taking a step back you planted your arms firmly in front of you, hoping that maybe Childe hadn’t noticed what you’d been about to do.

However Childe approached you instead.

“You weren’t at the gate today.” He said coyly, lips drifting somewhere between a smirk and a frown.

“I’m sorry.” You lowered your head. “I just thought, well maybe that would be better. Since you said you might be leaving permanently and all, and since you were right when you said I’d have to figure things out without you, I don’t know, I thought maybe it’d be for the best.”

Looking up the expression on Childe’s face could only be described as one of complete disbelief. For a moment he stayed frozen in place.

“What in Teyvat do you mean I’m leaving permanently?”

“You said that! Remember… when we were going to pick sea shells you said that you were leaving.” You stepped back, cheeks flushed. “Or maybe you were just sort of sick of me or something.”

“Why would you ever think that?” Childe walked up to you, enveloping one of the hands at your side in his own and bringing it up towards him.

“I… I don’t know,” you replied, feeling very confused and very foolish, “I thought maybe that I was being too affectionate, or too clingy. I mean I know you don’t like me or anything like that. And I thought maybe that I was crossing the boundaries of our friendship.”

“I don’t like you? I’ve liked you since almost the first day we’ve met!”

“Not like that! I mean, like like, you know? As in… well, as in I… I love you.” You let your voice peter out.

“I love you too!” Childe let out. Shaking his head he smiled widely. “That’s what I’m trying to say. I’ve liked you since almost the first time we’ve met. I wasn’t trying to shoo you away.”

“What?” Your brain was short circuiting. Something had gone terribly wrong. You’d definitely been knocked out at some point, and was now hallucinating. There was no way Childe liked you, loved you. He could love anyone, why would he love you.

Childe stepped closer, moving so that your foreheads were almost pressed together.

“May I?” He whispered, voice almost shy. You nodded, a just as small “yes” escaping your lips before Childe cut off your ability to say anything more. It was a short kiss, sweet and chaste, and yet you felt everything around you suddenly come into sharp, almost lucid clarity. You weren’t dreaming. This was happening. This was Childe and he liked you. Childe like you. He liked you, he really liked you.

“Why?” You let out, when the two of you separated. Thankfully Childe remained close to you, being without his presence now would’ve been quite lonely.

“Why what?”

“Why me? I’m not, I don’t know, I can’t even knock out an Electro Vanguard without help.”

Childe let out a laugh, lovely as music.

“I don’t know,” he replied, eyes sparkling, “because you’re you. And I like you.”

And all of a sudden you found that that was enough.

 Ganyu

The days that you accompanied Ganyu on her various errands were the ones in which you were most aware that you were on a level utterly below her.

Of course humans could never really measure up to adepti, after all they made the world and humans simply lived in it. Still in terms of humans, well you weren’t exactly pushing exceptional. If Ganyu represented all that was exceptional about the adepti, well then you represented the average human who didn’t like their job and overall went about their day as unnoticeable as an ant on the road.

Of course Ganyu never acted in a way that would betray the imbalance between the two of you. Indeed Ganyu was nothing if not kind, sweet, and utterly without a semblance of hierarchy. It was one of the things that you adored about her, the straightforward honesty she carried with her, and the way that she appeared not to judge living beings on a scale, even if that was the right of those who were higher and didn’t have to worry about said scale.

“Can you carry this for me?” Ganyu’s voice was soft and somewhat hesitant. You smiled widely, knowing that Ganyu simply had difficulty asking other people for help.

“Of course I can!” Scooping up the package that was stretched out towards you, you saw Ganyu let out a short sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

“Of course! I’m always happy to help you. Where are we taking this?”

“Over to the funeral parlor. It seems that there are some tiles in here that are being used for a specific ritual. Hu Tao said that the family wanted it, I hope she doesn’t actually mean she pushed them towards it.” Ganyu let out a soft sigh. “She once suggested advertising for cremation. Somehow I feel that won’t exactly be welcomed by the people.”

“No one likes to be reminded of their own mortality. Ah, but Hu Tao is doing her best, and if these tiles end up being insulators, I suppose we can’t do much about it. I’ll make sure not to drop them anyways. Getting on Hu Tao’s bad side feels like asking for a prank.”

“You’re probably right.” Ganyu chuckled.

You blushed slightly, loving the way her laugh sounded, soft and open. You knew Ganyu struggled sometimes; she admitted to you herself that it was very difficult to live an existence defined by liminality. Was she an adeptus? Was she a human? She was neither, and yet both would claim her and call her other. In understanding this Ganyu had retreated into herself. Perhaps that’s why her laugh meant so much.

As you strolled down the docks an angry voice cut through the air.

“Qixing!”

Both of you turning around you saw Bolai, heaving slightly, teetering his way towards you. His face was stormy, and for a moment you wondered if someone had stolen something. His words when he caught up however revealed a very different motivation.

“I demand justice!”

“What for?” Ganyu asked, voice deadly serious once more.

“What for? For what Huixin said in regards to me! For the Liyue Qixing complying with disgusting rumors as to the ways in which I conduct my business and my finances. As to the way that you promised to help me then turned on me!”

“I see…” Ganyu sighed as you wracked your brain, trying to remember what she’d told you about the time that she and the traveler ran around trying to detangle various examples of tax fraud. “Have you considered putting up a formal complaint?” Ganyu meanwhile was still trying to keep professional, something that you admired her for.

“How am I supposed to trust the Qixing after what happened? No! I demand compensation now!”

“Sir, I’m sure you’re quite upset, but there’s no need to act in such a way. If you wish to clear your name, then we can meet in private and review the testimony and documents we received. If not, then I’m afraid there is nothing I can do for you. I’m very sorry.”

Ganyu turned back towards the direction in which you two had been previously walking. Evidently too agitated to think properly Bolai let out a strangled cry.

“We’re not finished yet!” Reaching out, he seemed to be attempting to turn Ganyu around by the shoulder. Having been standing there unthinking you now moved to block the action, knowing that Bolai didn’t really mean anything by it, but not trusting the man who looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. Bolai’s hand instead smacked into the box in your hands, which slipped from your grip and fell to the floor in a great crash.

Time seemed to slow down somewhat after this, as Bolai stepped backwards and Ganyu turned around, face one of evident horror at the scene. You felt your face begin to burn as you looked at the unassuming box, which now looked a little bit the worse for wear.

“What…” Ganyu trailed off. Bolai waved his hands about in a panicked sort of way.

“That wasn’t me! That wasn’t my fault! It was this person they… I don’t know what they were thinking, getting in the way like that. How idiotic! This is nothing but a mess, a disgrace!”

Normally you wouldn’t pay Bolai’s words any mind, but now they seemed to pierce right through, as you realized all the trouble you’d just caused Ganyu. Glancing over towards her you found you could neither look her in the eyes nor stay where you were.

“I-I’m sorry!” You stammered. Moving to pick up the box you found your hand hesitating. Fearing that you’d just make things worse you pulled yourself and dashed in the opposite direction, speeding up the docks and towards the outskirts of the city.

Normally the view from Mount Tianheng was one that stole your breath away. Today however the mountain seemed completely uninteresting, especially when compared to the thoughts racing in your head.

How had you gotten here, how had you messed up so much? Ganyu didn’t need your posturing, your attempt to help. She was an adeptus for Morax’s sake! And who were you? Someone who couldn’t even carry a box from Point A to Point B. And now you’d just caused more trouble for Ganyu, when she already had so much to do.

“I’m such a failure.” You groaned into your palms.

“You aren’t!” You lifted your head at the soft exclamation, already knowing who the voice belonged to. Ganyu sidled up to the ledge of the mountain silently, fidgeting with her hands. “May I sit next to you?”

“Of course.” You replied, grateful that Ganyu was even talking to you. Smiling softly the Qixing Emissary let out a soft sigh.

“I love the view of the city from here.” She spoke softly, eyes on the horizon.

“I do too.”

“There’s something so lovely about watching everyone go about their day, isn’t there? To see the people work in harmony to bring prosperity and peace to the city of Liyue. To see how everyone continues on the legacy of Rex Lapis.”

“That’s a lot to see.” You joked, still feeling a little uncomfortable, as if Ganyu might in a minute get up and leave.

“But can’t you see it?” Ganyu’s voice was earnest and her eyes shined. “It’s wonderful how people do it, how they continue to make this city thrive, to keep the contracts of Morax alive and within living memory.”

“Perhaps it’s just harder for humans to judge it themselves?”

“Perhaps.” Ganyu’s expression shifted into something, almost shy, not quite melancholic. “Just like how you’re finding it difficult to forgive yourself.”

“I’m so sorry Ganyu. I don’t know what I was thinking! I just… I just, wasn’t thinking.”

“You were trying to be kind.” Ganyu replied, something almost akin to blush coating her cheeks. “And I have to thank you for that.”

“But I just caused more trouble…”

“You were trying to be kind,” Ganyu repeated, “like I said, you’re finding it difficult to forgive yourself. But you have to. You didn’t truly do anything that needs forgiveness.”

“But I was doing it for completely selfish reasons!” You blurted out, embarrassment and doubt turning into the words you never wanted to utter. “It’s because I like you, and not just because I was trying to be nice. But because, because maybe I wanted to do something for you, and then maybe I’d be good enough maybe.” Realizing how odd that just sounded you turned your head away. For a moment your words hung in the air, and the longer the silence continued the longer you thought about how utterly selfish you were.

“Thank you.” There was a smile in Ganyu’s voice, and as you turned your head once more you could see it plastered across her face.

“For what?”

“For telling me you like me.”

“But… but isn’t it just burdening you? After all I’m not good enough for you.”

“You are!” Ganyu’s voice was firm. “You’re absolutely good enough for me. And what you did, you call it selfishness, but I don’t understand that. Being kind to people you like isn’t selfish, even if you like them. Because this time you were genuinely helping me. Besides, if that’s selfish then I’ve also been terribly selfish.”

“How?”

“By asking you to accompany me everywhere. Because maybe, maybe I like you too.”

For a moment you wondered if you hadn’t accidentally slipped off the cliff, so weightless did you feel. A bit lightheaded you leaned forward.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Ganyu smiled nervously. Reaching out she took your hand in hers.

The two of you watched the sun set over the city of contracts mostly in silence. Every once in a while there would be a spurt of conversation, but mostly there was nothing but the sounds of the birds and the cicadas, and the pounding of two hearts, hearts both a bit ragged from the events of the day.

For what a day it had been. And how wonderfully it had ended.

 Kaeya

If you could use anything as justification for your crush on Kaeya, he did flirt with you. Unfortunately he also flirted with everyone else in Mondstadt.

“How’s my favorite knight of Favonius?” Kaeya’s cocky voice was clear as a bell, and for a moment your heart flipped as the handsome knight came into view, smile as lovely as it had been the day before.

“Blessed by the presence of our beloved cavalry captain.” You replied in a singsong voice.

The first time Kaeya had used that line on you it felt like your soul had left your body and your heart had run a marathon. Unfortunately you’d heard him use practically the same line on Rosaria the next day, his favorite mysterious nun, robbing you of your fantasy in which Kaeya had any interest for you.

Your banter however was not without genuine feeling. You were utterly infatuated with Kaeya, having fallen for the handsome knight about two weeks into your own training. Originally having been an adventurer you’d joined the knights relatively recently after a series of Abyss attacks on the City of Freedom. As such Kaeya had by then already occupied an exalted position among the ranks, and the hours of being trained, teased, and flirted at by the mysterious cavalry captain had been enough to throw you head over heels.

Not that you’d ever expect things to develop more than they already had. Having a crush on the flirtiest man in Mondstadt did mean that you were praised every once in a while, but it also meant that the praise meant little more than empty words, and that there was always someone else who had heard them. Not that you begrudged those people, not knowing them or not caring. It was Kaeya’s right to be as he was, flirty and irreverent; and you’d never ask him to change that part of himself, or any other.

To do so would be to change the person you’d grown to love.

You trotted up the steps of the Favonius headquarters, opening the door with a slight “oof” before stepping into the cool building. Today was going to be a quiet sort of day for the knights, and you’d been assigned to pick up a few books from Jean’s office to be recorded by Lisa before being sent off to the Church. Going to open the door you paused at the voices inside.

“– saying it’s nothing.”

“And I’m saying that it’s becoming a distraction. I don’t want to control your actions Kaeya, but this pining has been slowing down your work, and we need you as one of our most crucial members to be on top of things.”

“I’m not pining.”

“What do you mean you aren’t pining,” Jean let out a snort, “as if it’s not obvious to everyone around you. Look, I’m not saying you have to break things off –”

“Good, because they haven’t even begun.”

“Then maybe that’s part of your problem. Maybe if you told them you liked them then you’d be able to get back on track.”

“I’m doing my best.”

“You aren’t doing anything. And that’s the problem.”

You didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, having made your way over to the library as to make sure that you were get caught, and to cool your head in regards to what you’d just heard.

So Kaeya liked someone. You shouldn’t’ve really been surprised. Kaeya was a wonderful person; intelligent, good with a weapon, polite, handsome. What person wouldn’t fall in love with him? And when everyone’s in love with you, well, it was unsurprising that eventually Kaeya would find someone who he loved back just as much. Then, why did it hurt?

You fought the urge to wrack your brain for the people Kaeya spoke most about, finding the act beneath you. Still, your mind wandered. Perhaps it was Rosaria after all, or maybe it was only because you remembered her. Perhaps it was the sword smith who came twice monthly to check up on the weaponry. Or perhaps it was the tailor, who could sew anything with the utmost care. Or perhaps it was a musician, or an archivist, or another knight. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Your head swam and you found your eyes stinging. Now wasn’t the time to cry, not when you needed to honor your appointment with Jean, not when you were somewhere where any one of your colleagues might discover you. Not where Kaeya might walk in any minute and realize what you’d done. This thought finally brought you out of the spiral of your mind. Making sure that any tears that might’ve escaped were wiped away you took a deep breath, steadying yourself before you walked out of the library and into Jean’s office.

Evidently you must’ve looked much worse than you thought, for Jean took one look at you and ordered you home, grumbling about how much trouble there had been recently. You thanked her half-heartedly before making your way out of the Headquarters, heart heavy as lead. At least work would’ve been a welcome distraction.

Arriving home you saw what Jean meant. Though you weren’t particularly teary, your face had taken on an ashen pallor that made it look like you’d either just gotten a shock, fainted, or had suddenly contracted consumption. Letting out a sigh you collapsed on the couch of your apartment. You knew you should probably do something, should eat or work on some extra work or something. But right now you didn’t want to do any of that. You just wanted to forget.

The knock that sounded at your door was extremely unwelcome, and you bit back bitter words as you made your way over to the door. Any protest however was silenced at the sight of Kaeya, hair slightly tussled, expression opaque, on your doorstep.

“Kaeya.” You meant to sound more peppy, but the action felt too tiring. “What’re you doing here?”

“Making sure that you’re alright. Jean told me that you looked unwell, and we can’t have our best knight getting sick, now can we?”

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

You went to turn around, when Kaeya reached over and place his hand on your forehead. Freezing you let out a sound somewhere between a strangled cry and a shriek. Kaeya didn’t react to this however, or the red quickly spreading across the bridge of your nose. Instead he let out a sigh, before smiling, something which also caused your heart to seize up.

“Not running a fever. I’m glad. Do you know what’s wrong by any chance?”

“Yes. No! I mean, I think, I, I just need rest.”

“You can tell me if something’s wrong. I might not be able to help, but I can try. Consider it the duty of the Cavalry Captain. Have to keep up appearances, even among the ranks.”

“Really Kaeya, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” Kaeya’s eye seemed to pierce through your soul. “You seem… upset, exhausted. Please, let me help.”

“I can’t…” Your voice cracked and you turned your head away, mortified by your inability to control yourself.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Kaeya’s voice was filled with sudden worry. “Is someone doing something to you?”

“No! No one is. I just can’t because, because it’d be selfish.”

“What do you mean?” Kaeya’s tone had become utterly perplexed, and for a moment you felt the crazy urge to laugh. As if it wasn’t painfully obvious why you couldn’t. This was so tiring. You were so tired.

“Because it’s not fair of me to take away your happiness just because of my own feelings.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I heard you talking to Jean,” you explain, face burning, “she said that you liked someone. Or maybe you did, I don’t remember. Anyways you like someone and it’s not fair of that to hurt me, I have no right to your feelings. But, but it hurts, it really, really hurts.”

The silence when you finished was miserable. You weren’t even looking up at Kaeya, not wanting to see the destruction of a friendship you valued so much.

“Have you considered that the person I’m so infatuated with might be you?”

When you looked up you caught a wave of emotions, similar in strength to the ones currently going through you, plastered over Kaeya’s face. Happiness, sadness, regret, relief; all these things danced in his eyes. In that moment you loved him even more for it, for knowing that he understood, and that he too couldn’t hide the affects of having someone you loved so close and yet so far.

Saying nothing you walked over and slowly stretched your hand out. Kaeya took the hand in his, and you reveled in the small intimacy, in his calloused fingers enveloping yours.

“I’m not good enough.” You pointed out, voice soft.

“You aren’t the one who decides who I love.” Kaeya replied, voice firm. “To me there is no one else worthy in the world. Only you. And I hope that I can be the same for you, that I can be worthy.”

“Yes. Oh yes.”

For Kaeya was more than simply worthy. He was the one you loved the most, as well as the one who’d now made you the happiest person you could ever dream of.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Deuxième Omega: Part II

Summary: Jensen is not dealing well with his unexpected divorce and before the ink is even dry, he is pushed into another union with a complete stranger.

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Omega!OFC

Word Count: 2859

Warnings: A/B/O, angst, angry Jensen, cursing, illness, arranged marriage, divorces, talk of Alpha dominance over Omega, suspected eating disorder, past abuses, vehicle drama

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get this part out, my antique laptop decided to eat over 2,000 words and have had to piece back together from memory so hopefully it makes sense.

A/N II: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles family. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse. 

Part I

*Supernatural doesn’t end in season 15 and some dates/events have been altered to fit the story.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

The Next Day

Jensen waves his hand around again at that buzzing insect driving him crazy. He’s finally conscious enough to recognize the sound, it wasn’t a bug but his phone vibrating incessantly. Picking his head up and instantly regretting it starts patting around the bed for his phone.

“lo...”

“Are you still drunk?” A deep, honey-whiskey and way too damn loud for the morning voice barked at him.

“Jared?”

“No, fucking Misha.”

“Too early for your shit Jay...”

“Dude, it’s three-thirty in the afternoon.”

“WHAT!” Jensen yells sitting up too fast, the pain ricocheting throughout his head sends him flying off the bed, barely making it to the toilet before regurgitating everything he ingested last night. The toilet automatically flushes as he sits back against the bathtub groaning like a dying water buffalo.

“Really wish you'd hung up before sharing that,” Jared quips in a queasy voice, “I’m gonna regret this but Face Time me.”

Jensen cracked his eyes open enough to locate the button and tapping it Jared appears dressed in his running gear with a bandana holding his hair back. “No offense but you look like hammered shit. I was gonna call earlier but Gen threatened to have my left nut if I did.”

Jensen grunts and closes his eyes against the bright outdoor light emanating from the phone.

“Are you…” Jensen tunes him out for a minute then,“ ‘cause there’s something you need to know about, it’s really bad.”

He opens his eyes and it’s worse than he could have imagined going by the expression on Jared’s face.

“One of your clan sold you out, got it all on cellphone video, social media’s blowing up. Hell, even Fox News Channel picked it up.”

Jensen listens to the description of his expressions at the surprise traditional ceremony, his drunken stumbling around the reception with his new wife submissively following, his scoffing at the speeches during the reception and ignoring his silent, veil wife sitting next to him.

“My favorite bit was Alan and Josh carrying you out of the can.”

Jared's expression turned serious, “People are talking, we can't cover for you anymore. I got a text from higher ups cause no one could get hold of you for obvious reasons. PR’s gotta get ahead of this.”

“I’m a fuckup.”

“Yeah but we still love you. So, what's her name?”

Jensen licked his lips, biting the bottom one.

“Please tell me you know her name.”

“I..I don't even know what she looks like Jay.”

Jared ran his hand over his mouth, “The first thing you do is get up, take a shower and brush your goddamn teeth. Then you apologize, fucking supplicate yourself, to your new wife..unless you’ve already decided to put her aside.”

Jensen's head snapped up unbelieving that his friend, the man who was his brother in every way except blood, could think that of him.

“You really believe I could do that?”

Jared smiled, “No, you're too good of a man, an Alpha, to do that. I want you to remember one thing, in all this, she’s not the one who screwed you over.”

***

Jensen stepped out the shower forgoing shaving since the show was on a short break. He wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at this haggard expression and developing beer gut. I’ve got to get back on my exercise routine. Makeup and wardrobe could only mask so much.

Reaching for his bath kit he knocked a hand towel off the counter. Bending over to retrieve it he noticed a shoe with netting in the wastebasket. Pulling it out he saw a brown smear inside one of the heels, remembering how much trouble she had with them last night and made a mental note to inquire about her feet.

Washing his hands and searching through his kit realizing he’d forgotten his toothbrush. Opening on the cabinets he located the complementary ones. As he’s brushing Jensen sees another brush sitting in a glass by the other sink with a neatly folded hand towel and hanging washcloth.

Huh, she must have forgotten hers too.

Tossing his kit bag in the suitcase he dressed in a pair of well worn jeans and a T-shirt. Quietly entering the common area the curtains set open just enough for him to see her curled up on the couch, still in her wedding dress, asleep. He walked over to check on her when a knock at the door made her bolt upright.

“It's room service, I asked them to text so not to wake you.” He answered the door and had a brief word with the waiter who apologized, the ticket didn’t say not to knock. They deposited a coffee decanter, several covered dishes, bottles of water and left taking the cart with them.

Jensen sat down and before he could ask how she took her coffee, his wife scrambled off the couch and was kneeling at his feet, head bowed and hands folded in her lap.

“What are you doing?” He asked incredulously, having never seen anyone do this before.

“Awaiting you instructions Alpha.”

“Instruc...get up!” He gripped her upper arm, shocked at how far his fingers wrapped around it and helped her to the other chair. Sitting back down Jensen got his first look at his new wife.

Sleep tousled, dark blonde hair frame cheekbones overly prominent for the shape of her face, wide set eyes a blue-grey color with amber rings around the pupils. Her lips were full, the bottom lip slightly off center. She was not the Hollywood standard of beauty he was used to, and if compared to them, she’d only be considered moderately pretty.

“I was only doing what is expected…”

“Kneeling at my feet like an obedient dog!” He barked as she said, “..of the Omega.”

“What’s expected?”

“In the book..”

“Please look at me when speaking.” She raises her eyes but doesn’t meet his, “..it states that the Omega is subservient and the act of humbling ourselves shows respect for the Alpha, as is their due.’

Jensen sat back shocked, running both of his hands through his still damp hair, making it stand up to resemble a hedgehog. He was in over his head and, for one of the few times in his life, didn’t know what to do and the first person he would have turned to for advice had banned all communication.

He took a deep breath to refocus and leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs to look her in the eye, “I need you to forget what I said last night. I..I’m angry, feels like I..we..were ambushed by this situation. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I’m sincerely sorry.”

“I don’t understand, are you apologizing to me?”

“It’s what people do when they’ve done something wrong and what I did was unforgivable. I want to make it up to you if you’ll let me and hopefully we can make a go of this.”

She looked at him dubiously but nodded once.

***

Jensen finished the last dregs of his coffee while packing, having decided to head back to Austin tonight. Clif had texted him he was ready whenever they were.

Sitting down on the bed he listened to the running shower and reaching his phone picked it up to start recording a video message.

He apologized for his atrocious behavior the last two years, asking the fans not to take it out on the show, this was all on him. To his coworkers for having to cover for him, they should have never been put in that position and if he had better character they wouldn’t have had too.

He next apologized to his family for his inexcusable behavior last night, which should have stayed private within their clan, and fully accepted his banishment by the clan leader, his father, for however long he deemed fit.

He lastly apologized to his new wife, they were irrecoverably tied together and he’d do whatever she demanded from him to make up for the horrendous treatment he’d shown her and hoped she’d give him a chance to make a go of their marriage.

He uploaded the video to his few online accounts and turned the phone off, wearily running a hand over his face. Getting up to take one last look he found his jacket from the wedding hanging in the closet.

Folding it he hears a crinkling noise and reaches into the inner pocket finding the marriage certificate. Tossing the jacket on the bed he unrolls the certificate reading his wife’s name Iseult.

“It’s pronounced Ee-sult Alpha.”

Jensen's head jerked up in surprise, “Hey, um, we're heading out as soon as you're ready.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll need you to button my dress Alpha.” She said repacking his bath kit she'd borrowed.

Jensen furrowed his brow, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in something else, I mean, I’m telling you what to wear but it’s a three hour drive to my..our home.”

Iseult looked down playing with one of the pearlescent buttons, “When I married my hus..ex husband, our prenup stated that I only got what I had in my possession at the time. Apparently, he disposed of my things at some point,” she fanned out the shirt, “this dress, shoes and veil, your mother purchased them otherwise the media would have had a lot more to exploit at my..our expense Alpha.”

“Let me give you something of mine.”

“Anything of yours will swallow me, you're much more solid. There is a Walmart on..” she abruptly stopped at Jensen's raised eyebrow, “I’m sorry Alpha, I overstepped my place.” She bowed her head and hunched her shoulders, exuding the scent of fear as if she is expecting punishment from him.

What had happened to this woman to make her believe she should cower and gravel? Jensen manages to keep his anger in check, not wanting her to be more scared of him than she was, thinking who the hell is her ex-husband and what had he done to make her like this?

Jensen slowly walked behind her and gripping the fabric was once again dismayed at how prominent her shoulder blades were, his gut telling him her slenderness wasn't something natural.

As he fastened the buttons he spoke in the gentle voice he used when Jared's daughter Odette was upset, “If you can survive till tomorrow I’ll take you to get whatever you need.” She nodded once.

“Can I make one request Alpha?”

“You don’t have to request anything, just ask.”

“I have a prescription I need refilled, there’s a pharmacy on Wilmont, it’s on the way.”

He plucked the jacket off the bed and held it open, “Please, it's getting chilly.” She slid her arms into the sleeves and Jensen saw she was right about being swallowed. He put on his ball cap and headed out.

When they got off the elevators Jensen went deeper into the hotel. He stopped at an employees only entrance off the kitchen and knocked twice. A double knock answered and he pushed it open to reveal a waiting SUV. He introduced Clif and handed him the bag, taking it to the vehicle's rear and loaded it before getting back in.

The wind had started picking up ahead of the late autumn thunderstorm. Iseult grabbed her whipping hair in one hand and her skirt in the other as Jensen opened the back door.

“Iseult?”

“I was waiting for you Alpha, its proper etiquette.”

“I was raised it’s proper for a lady to enter first, please,” he held his hand out to her.

Iseult released her hair and hesitantly took his hand. Jensen felt a skittering sensation go up his spin as Iseult quivered, staring into his eyes as a whirling wind intermingled their scents, enthralling them.

Clif politely coughed, “We need to go before the bottom falls out.”

A tremendous thunderclap sent them scrambling into the car as the heavens let loose.

***

The trip to Austin was darker than usual, the weather slowing the drive back and with the incident at the pharmacy, Jensen still couldn’t believe it, refusing the prescription now that she was married to an Alpha, needing his verbal consent.

Clif interceded before he went off about the subjugation of Omegas in modern society, reminding him they were in predominantly conservative Texas, where this thinking was considered normal, not California.

Jensen glanced over to see Iseult staring out the window when his phone vibrated. Picking it up from the cup holder he saw a text from Josh.

>Jenny, know I’m not supposed to be in touch but call me!!! Need to know the shit going down here.<

Josh picked up on the first ring, “Man, all hell breaking loose. Your wife's ex didn't notify his clan that he was divorcing or remarrying her and they’ve filed an appeal with the Pack council to get her back.”

“We were married in the Traditional...”

“The fuck Jenny, did living in La La land make you forget everything? Your the second son of a clan leader, you know Pack law supersedes all federal, state and religious laws. They’ve dug up some obscure sub-clause that states a clan has first right to remarry an Omega within the clan and if they don’t whoever takes them must pay settlements.”

“What are settlements?”

“Has your brain fallen out of your ass? The bride price.”

“Josh, that's insane, it's 2020....”

“No shit Sherlock, but this is Texas. Fuck, dads back already. I’m gonna leave my phone on, keep your goddamn mouth shut or it's gonna be my ass too!”

Jensen can’t make out anything then his mother clearly says, “..they are asking what for her?”

“Ten million.”

“Your shitting me!”

“Joshua, language young man.”

“Five of it’s compensation for damages done to the Omega.”

“What damages? Jenny’s got a temper, what Alpha doesn’t, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone unless he was forced to.”

Alan cleared his throat in the manner Jensen had come to know that something’s making him uncomfortable. “It seems the Omega was..unsullied when she married her ex-husband.”

“Holy shit! You mean she’s never been with an Alpha before Jensen?”

“Joshua, I will not tolerate that language and we will absolutely not discuss your brothers new wife’s...virtue.”

Jensen hears the tinkling of glass, “Donna, did you know about any of this?”

“Well..no, of course not.” Her answer wasn’t very convincing.

“Donna, what are you not saying?” Alan’s Alpha voice resonated, he only used it when his mate was being evasive about something she’d done.

“When Danneel wasn’t willing to reproduce for Jensen I put out some feelers about finding him an Omega…”

“Jesus Fucking Christ! Even if it is acceptable for Jensen to have a second wife with Danneel being a Beta, he would never agree to it.”

“I’m not telling you again about your language. I might have, at one of my appointments, casually indicated to Brent that I wanted an Omega like his.”

Who the hell is this Brent?

“Wait, Brent Worthington?!”

Jensen dropped his phone. It smacked against his other hand turning on the speaker allowing everyone in the car to hear.

“Donna, have you any idea what you’ve done?”

“I never thought he'd actually offer her, they always seemed so happy together.”

“He took your casual indication as an actual offer for his wife. You do understand that while we have to deal with each other they are still our rivals.”

The Ackles and Worthingtons were two of the original founding clans of the Dallas Pack, and rivals for centuries. Iseult had been married to the only Beta son of Abraham, the Clans Alpha, like Alan.

Josh’s voice shook as he spoke, “Mom, if the council decides to return her do you have any idea what they’ll do if Jensen’s already mated and claimed her?”

There’s a ringing phone and Alan answered, his voice loud then faint, apparently pacing around the room.

In the SUV dim interior Jensen could see Iseult shaking, awaiting the decision.

“The council sided with the Worthington's stating the law…”

Jensen’s inner Alpha raged, loosening a wrawl causing Clif to jerk the wheel, swerving across the wet lanes, throwing Jensen against the seat in front of him, landing on the floorboard before the vehicle was under control and stopped on the shoulder. Twisting around he sees Clif opening the back door checking on Iseult while Alan’s voice filled the otherwise silent SUV.

“...but taking into consideration today’s social climate they came back with the final decision since she remarried another clan leader's son her status is unchanged, so if we send her back there’s no penalty for damages. If we choose to keep her, it’s five million due to the Omegas age.”

“What did you tell them dad?”

“I told them we were keeping her, I won’t be the cause of anymore upheaval in my son's life. However,” Alan’s voice turned hard, “the council has ordered additional financial penalties set against both clan leaders for the transgressions committed by their families.”

“How much?”

“I paid twenty-five million for a Deuxième Omega.”

tbc

SPN: @donnaintx​​​​​​​

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva​​​​​​​

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Remnants, Part IX

Chapter Summary: This chapter is transitional, so bear with me. I’ll be borrowing some ideas from the NATM movies, but mostly doing whatever I want to the plot to make it more Ahk-centric. Part X will be the final, action-packed chapter, but I do have an epilogue outlined, too. 

Part I,  Part II,  Part III,  Part IV,  Part V,  Part VI,  Part VII,  Part VIII

Story Summary: You are in the midst of formulating your dissertation, but you’ve hit a wall. Your doting aunt, Rebecca, has a solution that brings you face to face with Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King. As the connection between you and Ahkmenrah grows, and as the secrets of his ancient tablet unlock, the once-king will find himself faced with a difficult choice.

Thanks so much to @kitkatcronch  @kpopperotp12  @seafrost-fangirl  @sassystrawberryk  @perfect-rami  @txmel   @limabein   and  @rami-malek-trash for reading : ) If anyone else wants added to the taglist, let me know. I’ve greatly appreciated the feedback!

Warnings: None

It was mid-April, and you smiled as the sun warmed your skin. Although the air still held a chill, it was clear from the budding trees lining the courtyard that summer would soon make an appearance. It had been a particularly brutal east coast winter, and even though the thought of summer brought forth deep pangs of nostalgia, the sun was a welcome change.

“Okay, Y/N,” Chelsea said as she flicked a long strand of hair over her shoulder. “One more time from the top.”

 You began the introduction to your thesis defense for the tenth time that afternoon. In two weeks, you would be in front of a room of both your current and potential peers delivering your defense. The details of your work had drawn a lot of curiosity, so your chairs warned you that it would be a full house. You felt your work as a TA prepared you pretty well for addressing a full auditorium, but you knew that you probably wouldn’t sleep properly until this was all over. To secure job offers, your delivery needed to be stellar.

 In addition to professors, a variety of museum directors and field experts, including the museum director of Cairo, were flying in to listen to your defense. Thanks to Ryan, your name had become familiar to the director in Cairo, and he began to closely follow your publications. If your defense went well, you could be fielding offers not only from all over the states, but globally.

 After Ryan’s six months in Africa, he transferred to The University of Sydney to finalize his thesis and finish his PhD. You always had a hunch that he’d return home, and you sent a text congratulating him, wishing him the best. He’d responded something similar and that was the last you had talked to him in a while. As much of a presence as Ry once was in your life, it was shocking how quickly you could put a person behind you.

 Unless, of course, you were still in love with that person. Despite Ahkmenrah’s last words and his desire to no longer see you, your feelings had not waned. The days did get easier, and you were actually prone to smiling and going out with your friends, but when it got quiet, when you ran out of things to keep your mind occupied, your mind flooded with your memories of him.

 It had been eight months since you had seen Ahk, nearly double the time you had actually spent with him. That was one of the reasons you knew your feelings were real, unlike anything you had experienced before. Normally, like with Ryan, when someone was out of your life, they were just that—out. You thought of them less and less until you never thought of them at all. That was the nature of life—people came and went, just like in that verse from the “Prufrock” poem by T.S. Eliot: “In the room the women come and go. Talking of Michelangelo.”  

 You still had to work every single day to keep thoughts of Ahkmenrah at bay.

 Chelsea finalized her markings in your notebook and handed it back to you.

 “I really think you should stick to opening with that in-depth description of the Nile—the sight, the sound, the smell—it’s riveting. It sets up the scene for the Egyptians acceptance of Akhenaten’s proposal—one river that gives life, one god that gives life.”

 You nodded, drawing a star by Chels’s note.

 “I’ll rework the PowerPoint tonight. Can I buy you dinner as a thank-you?”

 Chelsea laughed, “You don’t need to keep feeding me. I’m happy to help. God knows you’ve proofed enough of my papers over the years.”

 You grinned and shrugged your shoulders.

 “Does that mean you aren’t hungry?”

 Chelsea shrugged into her backpack and said, “Hey. Let’s not get hasty now.”

 The two of you giggled together as you decided on a place for dinner.

 * * * * *

 After latching your door and sliding the deadbolt into place, you dropped your backpack by the coffee table and headed to the fridge to grab a water. You wanted to make Chelsea’s suggested change to your PowerPoint presentation and then settle in to do yet another round of edits.

 You nearly had each slide memorized, but when you got to the part of your presentation that challenged your field’s previous notions about Egyptian royalty and argued that the emergence of monogamy in marriages made for a natural evolution to Akhenaten’s monotheistic cult, you paused, your mind swirling with thoughts of Ahkmenrah and his parents.

 You knew once your mind began swirling with memories of Ahk that your proofing skills were rubbish after that, so you shut your laptop and made a cup of tea, sipping it while you watched some light television.

 This was your nightly routine; the more you could push away your thoughts of Ahkmenrah and the museum, the easier it would be to fall asleep.

 You settled into bed, and after about a half an hour of tossing and turning, you fell asleep.

  ~ ~ ~

The cat in your lap purred, its sleek, warm body a welcome weight. You smiled as you stroked the fur behind its ears, noticing that the cat was curled tightly in your lap, settled on your white linen dress that fluttered around your ankles; golden bangles intermixed with brightly colored beaded bangles adorned both of your arms and jingled pleasantly as you moved.

 As you looked up from the sweet creature snuggled on your lap, you smiled as you took in the scene before you. Below, the Nile sparkled in the sun, its lifegiving waters reflecting a deep blue that reminded you of a stormcloud plump with rain. Palm trees littered the banks, grouped in clusters that shaded the grass underneath.

 A strong, but soft hand, one that you knew well, slid over your bare shoulder. Your eyes closed to your husband’s loving touch, his fingers eliciting goosebumps as they slid down your upper arm.

 “Still so sensitive to my touch, love?”

 “Mmm,” you hummed, eyes still shut as Ahkmenrah’s presence enveloped you.

 “Would you like to join me for the meeting with the builders? They believe they have figured out a way to extend irrigation channels into Fayyum to revitalize the fields there.”

 “Oh? That’s excellent news!”

 Ahkmenrah returned your grin, reaching to take your chin in this hand, his fingers grasping the point to tilt your head up. He leaned down for a kiss, sweet, at first, but with a quick swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip, it occurred to you that it was odd for the king to be visiting you mid-afternoon.

 You licked across your lower lip, relishing in the taste of him.

 “Is there something else that you wanted, my king?”

 “I missed you,” Ahkmenrah said with an earnestness that squeezed your heart.

 “I always miss you,” you said, gently prodding your sleepy companion until they leapt off your lap, allowing you to stand and stretch before turning to face your husband.

 You slid your hands up his biceps and locked your eyes onto his. His eyes were particularly blue today, not unlike the Nile. Words weren’t needed as you looked at each other, love etched across both of your faces.

 Ahkmenrah pulled you close to him and closed his lips over yours once more. Soon, you were lost in the passion of the kiss, in the way his body felt against yours, and in the warmth that radiated from his love.

 ~ ~ ~

You gasped as you bolted upright, sweat pooling at your lower back and across your temples. It was the third night in a row that you had this same dream and its vividness continued to overwhelm you. Similar dreams had plagued you over the months, but there was something about the clarity and the purity of emotion within this dream that made it much worse than the others.

 The tears were already formed and as you laid back down, they silently spilled onto your pillow. You knew that no matter the results of your dissertation, you would have to put distance between yourself and Ahk.

 When you loved someone, sometimes you really did have to let them go.

 * * * * *

 Normally, you weren’t one for big parties, but the laughter and spontaneous emission of congratulations along with the buzz of the bar, the clang of glasses, the din of the band in the next room, were all a welcomed cacophony. You hadn’t a clue how many drinks had been bought for you and even worse, consumed by you, but you were the happiest you had been in months.

 You passed!

 You earned your PhD and you had a small pile of job offers to sort through, although you already knew which one you were going to take. It wasn’t quite as much money as some of the others, but it was your dream; and even better than fulfilling your dream, you would be able to give something back to the person who had helped you in your hour of need.

 After you had presented your defense, as you were shaking hands with Dr. Omar Gamal, the director of the Museum of Cairo, an idea took shape and you weren’t ashamed to think that it really was brilliant.

 As you finished the drink in your hand, you gathered everyone’s attention to announce that you were taking the job in Cairo. Cheers erupted and you couldn’t stop grinning as your friends and family took turns congratulating you and peppering you with questions.

 What you didn’t tell anyone was that you already knew exactly what you were going to do once you got there, thanks to Ahkmenrah’s papyruses and your journey through his memories. If you couldn’t be the one to bring happiness into Ahk’s life, then perhaps a reunion with his parents could.

 * * * * *

 By early September, you were well settled in Cairo. Finding Merenkahre and Shepseheret proved to be easier than you expected. In the basement of Cairo’s museum, there was a repository of unidentified mummies, most proving to be average Egyptians who had just enough money to build a decent tomb.

 Apparently, as a final insult, Kahmunrah had buried his parents as commoners to ensure their afterlife would be the opposite of the glorious affair normally reserved for the royals. To Kahmun, a life without luxury was the true punishment, so you really weren’t shocked to find that he did bury both of his parents together. Of course something like love wouldn’t have been valuable to him.

Villains. In the end, they’re all the same.  

 At first, Omar thought you were crazy, and you thought that you were going to for sure get fired. One of the most prominent kings of the Middle Kingdom and his beloved wife were Unidentified Mummies #17 and #18? Impossible.

 But after extensive tests, you were able to prove that the ages and the causes of death matched that of Merenkahre and Shepseheret. What you weren’t able to do was reveal your exact source. It took a lot of cross referencing and circular explanations, but Omar was diverted when you made your proposition for an exciting new exhibit, and even more diverted when you made your proposition to reunite Merenkahre and Shepseheret with their son, Ahkmenrah.

 Omar’s dream was to return all major Egyptian exhibits to their homeland in order to declare them property of the Museum of Cairo. Lending them out to travel the world was one thing, but it was a true indecency when colonizers were the ones who still owned what was taken from the Egyptians’ land.  

 You had sketched up a proposal of showing the three layers of royal Egyptian life—the throne room, the Royal Wife’s garden, and the prince’s chambers. The only hitch in your plan was that to raise the funds for a permanent exhibit in Cairo, you had to build the exhibit at the British Museum of Natural History. If they held the first rights to display, they would fund a permanent exhibit in Cairo.

 The British Museum could also secure the rights to display Ahkmenrah because the American museum was willing to trade Ahk for the mummy of Ahmose-Meritamun; the Americans would then be able to create a female-centric display, something they had been looking to do to showcase the prominence of women during the Ancient Egyptian empire.

 The only thing left to do was to ensure that Larry and Rebecca helped to keep your surprise—when Ahkmenrah was ready to be moved, he should know only the scarcest of details.

 For the first time in a long time, everything was going according to plan.

 * * * * *

 After Omar popped the top of the champagne, the cork skittered across the floor and you and your team laughed as you held out glasses out to catch the bubbly alcohol.

 Merenkahre and Shepseheret’s exhibits were a smash hit. Your PR team had been hyping the return of Ahkmenrah next month to complete the triage of Egyptian royals and opening night had already been sold out.

 The current exhibit of Merenkahre and Shepseheret had been featured in multiple publications and the detail of each layer of royal life had cemented your place as one of the top anthropologists in the world. You never forgot that you owed it all to Ahkmenrah, and you never forgot that you were really doing all of this for him. Within the next month, he would be reunited with his parents.

 Your phone rang, its music invasive and interrupting the happy atmosphere.  

 You sipped the top of your champagne before it could overflow and checked the screen.

 Larry.

 Larry never called. He was a texter, and it had been a long time since you talked. He was still working as the night guard, but he started going to classes to get his teaching degree. Aunt Rebecca was proud of his initiative, and she had kept you up to date on his progress; had she been calling, you wouldn’t have thought twice about letting it go to voicemail and checking it later. But Larry calling . . . something wasn’t right.  

 “I gotta answer this—be right back!” you said as you moved away from the laughter and the even happier chatter.

 “Hey Lar—what’s up?”

 “Y/N! I’m so glad you answered. Look, I’m not sure how to tell you this, and he doesn’t even know I’m calling you because he’d probably sick those jackals on me if he did find out and we all know—”

 “Larry. You’re babbling. What’s going on?”

 “Ahk’s sick.”

 “Sick? He’s a regenerated mummy. He comes back to life in perfect health, perfectly restored. How could he be . . . sick?”

 “It’s the tablet. I think the tablet is . . . dying.”

 You had made your way to the end of the hallway where a large set of stairs led up to the display. You sat down, hard, on the top stair, your body numb, your mind whirring—you were so close to giving Ahkmenrah his parents back. He couldn’t be dying, for fuck’s sake. He just couldn’t be.

 “Tell me everything.”

[fcrgedstrcngth]

Frigga

Face-claim: Rene  Russo

Status: semi-active

Main verse: canon; post-Avengers

Biography:

Pre-Thor:

Frigga was born the daughter of a relatively inconsequential Vanir nobleman, and a well-respected witch who had turned her focus towards healing – all the better to be accepted by the Vanir. The youngest of a half-dozen children, she spent much of her younger years three steps behind her mother, watching her heal others, and going on to learn the basics of the art for herself. It was her brothers who ensured she knew how to defend herself, how to wield a sword and daggers, and in time she learned how to use her magic defensively as well.

A fact which she was later grateful for, as her people fell into war with the Aesir. The war was trying for the Vanir, and distasteful to them; soon they began to desire peace, and a truce. Bor, at least, wasn’t a totally unreasonable man, and a truce was soon reached – though it came at an unexpected price for Frigga. Bor’s favored son, Odin, the heir to his throne, had taken note of her – or at least of her beauty – in the council rooms while the truce was being outlined. Part of the price of peace was that Frigga moved to Asgard to become Odin’s wife and eventual queen, and for the sake of her beloved people, Frigga agreed.

It was a difficult transition, though not, at least a difficult beginning to a marriage. She came to care for, and eventually love, Odin, but she struggles with Asgardian culture. The violence that was seeped into every aspect of their lives hurt Frigga’s heart, and though her opinions slowly began to change parts of Odin’s outlook, one woman couldn’t change a whole culture.

In time, she turned her thoughts toward more personal things – hers and Odin’s growing desire to have children. However, it was not something that came easily to them – specifically to Frigga, and healers had never yet been able to heal their own bodies.

It was a painful irony, Frigga thought, that her title became that of the “All-Mother” when Odin took the throne, but it became something that she embraced. If she couldn’t have children of her own, why shouldn’t she “adopt” and look out for all of Asgard? That was her title, after all, and from that angle, it was one she was able to embrace. Her unbreakable love for the Vanir remaining, the notion of it made her feel like a fully-integrated Asgardian at long last.

Yet a miracle was waiting just around the corner for the couple. Frigga became pregnant and gave Odin a perfectly healthy miracle son they named Thor. The miracle even happened a second time; she became pregnant again… but it was not to be. This time, the child, a daughter, was born lifeless.

Amid a chaotic time of war with Jotunheim was not the time to grieve, but Frigga couldn’t help it. She took to her bed, she was so inconsolable with grief for her child and a growing hatred for her own body. Odin’s frequent presence in the warfront – and absence from her – did not help, and Thor was the only reason she was kept from abject depression most days.

Then the war with Jotunheim was over and won, and Odin returned to her – bringing much more home than she had ever anticipated. She was sitting in Thor’s nursery, minding her son – as she’d had energy to do little else since the stillbirth – when Odin came in, traces of the battle still on his armor, and placed a blue-eyed baby boy in her arms. An orphan misplaced in the war, he said, their son now, if she desired it so.

She didn’t question it until that night when they lay together in the darkness, unable to see one another’s expression. How had he found an Asgardian infant on Jotunheim? He hadn’t; the child was a Jotun, but well-disguised of the babe’s own accord, and he need never know his true heritage. He could be their second child, and if the time ever came, revealing that a Jotun had been raised in the Asgardian palace might help bring about true peace and partnership with Jotunheim.

After that night, it was never mentioned again, and the boys became equal in Frigga’s heart… though as the years wore on, she noticed that they were not viewed as equals by their peers. So, she took Loki into her personal tutelage; he had shown signs of proficiency in magic even if he didn’t know how much so, and she taught him how to capitalize upon it. How to use his size as a strength all it’s own, more spells than were perhaps necessary – but he was good at it, and she enjoyed the private time spent with boy… even as he became a man.

Even as she and Odin began to disagree more and more on things, as Thor’s childish character flaws remained despite his age, as Loki began to maintain friendships with fewer people than ever. The flaws in her family were beginning to show, and despite being the All-Mother, Frigga didn’t know how to help her three men. So, she loved them all as fiercely as she could, but it didn’t really help, and she felt increasingly powerless against it all.

Thor:

Especially when Odin banished Thor to Midgard, of all places, with none of his powers or any real context of the culture he was entering. She didn’t like to yell at her husband, but she did then – and he ignored her pleas, regardless.

But as bad as the incident with Thor was, he at least returned home changed for the better.

It was Loki whose issues were more difficult to resolve. In going to Jotunheim, he’d met Laufey, and come home and touched the Casket, discovering his true heritage. Odin, she believed, had done his best to answer Loki’s questions, but clearly, they hadn’t been sufficient answers, because Loki had come to her with his questions while they were at Odin’s bedside. Her heart stuttered in her chest as he explained what he’d discovered, she did her best to answer his questions and ease his obvious disquiet. She knew by the look on his face she hadn’t said enough, even as guards came and presented him with Gungnir, making him king until Odin awoke.

She told herself she’d done her best in the moment, but in the end her best clearly wasn’t enough. Loki fell from the Bifrost, and she grieved, swearing to do better – by Thor, by Odin, by her people. 

The Avengers:

And she tried to do better… only to have that wound of her grief ripped back open when Loki reappeared, warped and evil, on Midgard.

She tried to tell them – Thor, Odin, Heimdall, all of them – that something wasn’t right with Loki, but again she was ignored, and the second prince of Asgard was brought home in chains and a muzzle. She spent years visiting him periodically, trying to get him to talk about what had happened, what had changed her boy. 

Thor: The Dark World:

In the end, her presence was once again for naught – on all counts. When it mattered, Odin ordered even her from the room and sentenced her son to a life in solitary confinement. Once again, she felt all but helpless to do anything about it.

Feeling increasing trapped and useless, Frigga felt her life shrinking down to visiting Loki via her magic, trying to keep Thor content in a life without the presence of his Midgardian love, Dr. Jane Foster, and distressingly, trying to avoid an increasingly unpredictable Odin. Then, Dr. Foster was on Asgard, and under Frigga’s protection, and a terrible, unprecedented opportunity – a chance to rest, and then do some good.

She used her magic to create the necessary glamours, fighting Kurse with a double until he wrung its neck. She left the double where it was, for Thor, Odin, and Jane to find, going so far as to make it appear that she had stopped breathing. It had taken an enormous effort from her magic so suddenly, but so far as Asgard and her family knew, she was dead. She stayed on Asgard to maintain the double until it was sent up in a funeral pier, while simultaneously keeping the glamour of a peasant woman over herself. With the double gone, she allowed herself to rest from draining her magic, then used a bag from the royal treasury to buy a small spaceship.

Post-Thor: The Dark World:

No one ever discovered where the missing money had gone, so that she knew, and so long as she kept up a glamour, Frigga found herself blissfully free to travel wherever she wanted. She healed wherever she went, giving passage and safekeeping sometimes to those who needed it. She felt useful and happy and good again.

Post-Thor: Ragnarok: 

But she had never meant for her absence from Asgard to be permanent, only a long vacation, and she would deal with the repercussions of her hasty actions when she returned. After two years, though, she suddenly heard rumors of a new… dictator, a queen, taking over Asgard. Violently. Frigga returned to her ship, and to Asgard, as quickly as possible.

But Asgard was going up in smoke, and she was barely able to find radio waves claiming to be coming from Asgardian refugees. Yet again, she was just too late. Horrified, still shrouded in a glamour, she rescued the few floating, live stragglers that she could and rendezvoused with them under the care of the last remaining Valkyrie. Staying quietly to the sidelines and always disguised, she helped them rebuild on Midgard, hoping that here, calling herself a healer named Gitte, she could find a way to be useful to the downtrodden people who had no idea she was their queen.

Verses:

FROM THIS MOMENT ON: follows canon MCU and Norse Mythology

ROAD LESS TRAVELED: any other AU threads

AUS:

SO MANY WAYS TO BE: (Descendants) queen of a country near, but not brought into, the US of Auradon

EVER EVER AFTER: (Fairytale) queen

BORROWED BABIES: (Foster Care) foster mother

I SOLEMNLY SWEAR THAT I’M UP TO NO GOOD: (Harry Potter) Ravenclaw seventh-year

ALL THAT GLEAMS AND GLITTERS: (Modern) an orthopedic surgeon

ALTERNATIVELY 1902: (Victorian) disguises herself as a nurse whenever she feels like interacting with the Midgardians

GROW UP WITH THE LAND: (Wild West) disguises herself as a nurse whenever she feels like interacting with the Midgardians

FORWARD TO VICTORY: (World War II) a disguises herself as a nurse whenever she feels like interacting with the Midgardians

Starter Call

[tisthenightofthewitch]

As critical and commercial accolades continue to amass at the feet of Ghost – those Satan-loving retro rockers from Sweden – one might be forgiven for wondering if founder/singer Tobias Forge (aka, Papa Emeritus I, II and III and currently Cardinal Copia), might have really cut a deal with the Devil. After all, over the course of four studio albums, the band have earned the feverish adulation of both fans and critics, not to mention the likes of Dave Grohl and James Hetfield. They notched a 2016 Grammy for Best Metal Performance and after a complete lineup change in 2016, Forge and the band’s latest iteration released this year’s Prequelle, their finest work to date and current leader of the Metal Hammer fan poll for best 2018 album so far.

If you’re just getting involved or you enjoy making and slagging off lists, here are Ghost's ten best songs.

10. Per Aspera Ad Inferi

On 2013’s Infestissumam Ghost took their occult flavour of nihilism to extravagant heights with this towering hymn of damnation. From the word “go,” the devilish Swedes have cheekily borrowed traditional Christian constructs – prayers, hymns and imagery – and inverted them into kitschy Satanic paeans. On this track, Papa Emeritus II twists the encouraging Latin maxim, Per aspera ad astra (“Through hardship to the stars,”) into something infinitely more bleak – Per Aspera Ad Inferi, (“Through hardship to hell”). Warm guitar tones and punchy, one-two tempos drive into one of the band’s most memorable and ear-wormish choruses.

9. Elizabeth

Four years after forming in Linköping, Sweden, Ghost released a three track demo, followed by a 7” vinyl of Elizabeth (with Death Knell as the B-side). Inspired by the sonic grandeur of Mercyful Fate, the lyrics spin a wistful ode to Hungarian Countess Elizabeth Báthory de Ecsed, known as the most prolific female serial killer in history. With the snarling chug of the rhythm guitar, eerie waves of echo-drenched leads and stunning vocal harmonies, the track became their first single, easily earning a slot on their Grammis-nominated debut, Opus Eponymous.

8. Ghuleh/Zombie Queen

Infestissumam’s stunning fifth track was somewhat lost in the playful reverie of tracks like Secular Haze and Body And Blood. However, it remains one of the most important offerings in the band’s catalogue, revealing Ghost’s ambitions as extending far beyond the safe confines of 80s hard rock. Opening with soft, mournful piano and Papa’s spectral hiss, Ghuleh/Zombie Queen builds into a dizzying freakout of carnivalesque organs and punchy surf-rock tempos, finally erupting into a full-throttle rocker. Clocking in at seven-and-a-half minutes, Ghuleh/Zombie Queen established that even as they mined the familiar veins of the classic rock landscape, Ghost were anything but predictable.

7. Ritual

For many, the third track of the band’s debut served as their introduction to Ghost, a stupidly-addictive ode to the polished hard rock stylings of 70s legends like Blue Öyster Cult and Pentagram. Velvety swaths of organ meld with a driving bassline, crunchy riffs and golden vocal harmonies that cut a jarring contrast against lyrics so overtly Satanic that they include a Luciferian “Our Father” just for good measure. Other throwback outfits had managed to tap into the polished studio sound of 70s hard rock, but their inability to convert that sound into memorable new hits left the genre feeling uninspired. With Ritual, Ghost established that their ability to channel the spirit of their influences into bona fide, stadium-rocking anthems left them without peer.

6. Cirice

Edging out the likes of Slipknot and Lamb Of God, Cirice snagged the 2016 Grammy award for Best Metal Performance, catapulting the band further into the mainstream. Where the previous album had balanced the guitar tones much more evenly alongside bass and keyboards, third album Meliora saw the band shift their focus back onto the power of the mighty riff, with Cirice leading the way. Behind its spine-chilling opening melody and the slashing momentum of the verse, the band’s most successful single (to date) is a maelstrom of darkened riffs interspersed with dramatic flourishes of piano and infectious, shout-at-the-ceiling chorus.

5. Year Zero

Great satire uses subtlety to separate the ones who get it from the ones who don’t. From the opening notes of their 2010 demos through the commercial triumphs of Prequelle, Ghost flaunt a superb ability to take their Satanic pageantry to absurdly-exaggerated heights, while leaving just the teensiest, tiniest speck of doubt that, “Holy shit, these guys just might be serious after all.” Year Zero straddles the line between its over-the-top, ‘Hail Satan’ lyricism and a ginormous chorus, bursting with sugary pop hooks. It’s a weird balance that dominates the Ghost catalogue, with themes of darkness and inhumanity woven into bright, hopeful melodies that in lesser, more literal hands, might end up as sappy ballads or generic radio rock. Subtle and affecting, you’ll find yourself still humming Year Zero days after you’ve last heard it.

4. Con Clavi Con Dio

Deus Culpa opens Ghost’s studio debut with the baroque purr of an organ but it’s the swinging thrust of the bassline in Con Clavi Con Dio that establishes that we’re a long, long way from church. Everything that you love about Ghost is here in spades – smooth layers of guitars, keyboards and gauzy atmospherics, with more hooks than a coat room. But it’s the otherworldly melodies that most closely identify Ghost – eerie note choices that centre on the tritone interval, aka 'The devil’s interval.' This interval dominates Con Clavi Con Dio, investing the track with a menacing sense of sacrilege and some of the finest riffs the band have ever composed.

3. Rats

Though Prequelle draws heavily upon the themes and imagery of the Black Plague to inform its identity, it fits equally well in our current turbulent landscape. With its growling opening riffs, pummelling tempos and fist-in-the-air refrain, Rats sees the band again celebrating their melodic hard rock influences, mixing in a bit more of NWOBHM swagger and just a dash of Swedish pop (to wit: the “ooh-aah” after the word ‘Rats,’ in the chorus). Although it follows the album’s intro, Ashes, it’s the first proper track on the record, heralding something fierce, new and aggressive. In the wake of 2016’s lineup change, Rats is the sound of Forge doubling down on his commitment to evolving Ghost’s sound while retaining its most familiar elements.

2. Miasma

Let’s cut to the chase – there’s a goddamned saxophone solo on this track – and it’s glorious! One of Prequelle’s two magnificent instrumentals, Miasma sees the band voyaging into the cosmic recesses of 80s prog, with a blitz of synths, dramatic atmospherics, kaleidoscopic dual fretwork and yes, a sax solo at the end. Like many of their finest tracks, Miasma twists and evolves into something entirely different from its opening; in this case, it begins with a moody slab of space rock, but the final minutes see the track gathering into a breathtaking barrage of steely riffs, slamming tempos and a not-so-subtle nod to the King Of Pop himself, Michael Jackson (see minute 4:04). Ambitious, expertly polished and catchy as hell, the beings of the Universe will still be listening to Miasma long after our species has left the planet.

1. Square Hammer

With its serpentine melodies, pounding rhythms and a chorus large enough to swallow a black hole, the opening track of 2016’s Popestar, the band’s second studio EP, sees Ghost at their catchiest. From start-to-finish, Square Hammer is an absolute belter, delivering chugging riffs, groovy guitar solos and a siege of slamming, radio-friendly hooks. The only original track on the EP, Square Hammer quickly ascended to Number One on Billboard’s Mainstream Rock list and it remains a set-ending staple of their live show, due to its soaring energy and shout-out refrain. Square Hammer is one of those rarified hits that people tend to play with back-to-back-to-back devotion for days and even weeks at a stretch. The fact that Ghost are releasing some of the most vital and enjoyable music of their career bodes exceedingly well for the future of Cardinal Copia and his cursed congregation.

So happy Elizabeth is on there! 

[forgcdstrength]

Frigga

FACE-CLAIM: Rene  Russo

STATUS: semi-active

ORIENTATION: panromantic bisexual

MAIN VERSE: canon; post-Avengers

BIOGRAPHY:

PRE-THOR:

Frigga was born the daughter of a relatively inconsequential Vanir nobleman, and a well-respected witch who had turned her focus towards healing – all the better to be accepted by the Vanir. The youngest of a half-dozen children, she spent much of her younger years three steps behind her mother, watching her heal others, and going on to learn the basics of the art for herself. It was her brothers who ensured she knew how to defend herself, how to wield a sword and daggers, and in time she learned how to use her magic defensively as well.

A fact which she was later grateful for, as her people fell into war with the Aesir. The war was trying for the Vanir, and distasteful to them; soon they began to desire peace, and a truce. Bor, at least, wasn’t a totally unreasonable man, and a truce was soon reached – though it came at an unexpected price for Frigga. Bor’s favored son, Odin, the heir to his throne, had taken note of her – or at least of her beauty – in the council rooms while the truce was being outlined. Part of the price of peace was that Frigga moved to Asgard to become Odin’s wife and eventual queen, and for the sake of her beloved people, Frigga agreed.

It was a difficult transition, though not, at least a difficult beginning to a marriage. She came to care for, and eventually love, Odin, but she struggles with Asgardian culture. The violence that was seeped into every aspect of their lives hurt Frigga’s heart, and though her opinions slowly began to change parts of Odin’s outlook, one woman couldn’t change a whole culture.

In time, she turned her thoughts toward more personal things – hers and Odin’s growing desire to have children. However, it was not something that came easily to them – specifically to Frigga, and healers had never yet been able to heal their own bodies.

It was a painful irony, Frigga thought, that her title became that of the “All-Mother” when Odin took the throne, but it became something that she embraced. If she couldn’t have children of her own, why shouldn’t she “adopt” and look out for all of Asgard? That was her title, after all, and from that angle, it was one she was able to embrace. Her unbreakable love for the Vanir remaining, the notion of it made her feel like a fully-integrated Asgardian at long last.

Yet a miracle was waiting just around the corner for the couple. Frigga became pregnant and gave Odin a perfectly healthy miracle son they named Thor. The miracle even happened a second time; she became pregnant again… but it was not to be. This time, the child, a daughter, was born lifeless.

Amid a chaotic time of war with Jotunheim was not the time to grieve, but Frigga couldn’t help it. She took to her bed, she was so inconsolable with grief for her child and a growing hatred for her own body. Odin’s frequent presence in the warfront – and absence from her – did not help, and Thor was the only reason she was kept from abject depression most days.

Then the war with Jotunheim was over and won, and Odin returned to her – bringing much more home than she had ever anticipated. She was sitting in Thor’s nursery, minding her son – as she’d had energy to do little else since the stillbirth – when Odin came in, traces of the battle still on his armor, and placed a blue-eyed baby boy in her arms. An orphan misplaced in the war, he said, their son now, if she desired it so.

She didn’t question it until that night when they lay together in the darkness, unable to see one another’s expression. How had he found an Asgardian infant on Jotunheim? He hadn’t; the child was a Jotun, but well-disguised of the babe’s own accord, and he need never know his true heritage. He could be their second child, and if the time ever came, revealing that a Jotun had been raised in the Asgardian palace might help bring about true peace and partnership with Jotunheim.

After that night, it was never mentioned again, and the boys became equal in Frigga’s heart… though as the years wore on, she noticed that they were not viewed as equals by their peers. So, she took Loki into her personal tutelage; he had shown signs of proficiency in magic even if he didn’t know how much so, and she taught him how to capitalize upon it. How to use his size as a strength all it’s own, more spells than were perhaps necessary – but he was good at it, and she enjoyed the private time spent with boy… even as he became a man.

Even as she and Odin began to disagree more and more on things, as Thor’s childish character flaws remained despite his age, as Loki began to maintain friendships with fewer people than ever. The flaws in her family were beginning to show, and despite being the All-Mother, Frigga didn’t know how to help her three men. So, she loved them all as fiercely as she could, but it didn’t really help, and she felt increasingly powerless against it all.

THOR:

Especially when Odin banished Thor to Midgard, of all places, with none of his powers or any real context of the culture he was entering. She didn’t like to yell at her husband, but she did then – and he ignored her pleas, regardless.

But as bad as the incident with Thor was, he at least returned home changed for the better.

It was Loki whose issues were more difficult to resolve. In going to Jotunheim, he’d met Laufey, and come home and touched the Casket, discovering his true heritage. Odin, she believed, had done his best to answer Loki’s questions, but clearly, they hadn’t been sufficient answers, because Loki had come to her with his questions while they were at Odin’s bedside. Her heart stuttered in her chest as he explained what he’d discovered, she did her best to answer his questions and ease his obvious disquiet. She knew by the look on his face she hadn’t said enough, even as guards came and presented him with Gungnir, making him king until Odin awoke.

She told herself she’d done her best in the moment, but in the end her best clearly wasn’t enough. Loki fell from the Bifrost, and she grieved, swearing to do better – by Thor, by Odin, by her people.

THE AVENGERS:

And she tried to do better… only to have that wound of her grief ripped back open when Loki reappeared, warped and evil, on Midgard.

She tried to tell them – Thor, Odin, Heimdall, all of them – that something wasn’t right with Loki, but again she was ignored, and the second prince of Asgard was brought home in chains and a muzzle. She spent years visiting him periodically, trying to get him to talk about what had happened, what had changed her boy.

THOR: THE DARK WORLD:

In the end, her presence was once again for naught – on all counts. When it mattered, Odin ordered even her from the room and sentenced her son to a life in solitary confinement. Once again, she felt all but helpless to do anything about it.

Feeling increasing trapped and useless, Frigga felt her life shrinking down to visiting Loki via her magic, trying to keep Thor content in a life without the presence of his Midgardian love, Dr. Jane Foster, and distressingly, trying to avoid an increasingly unpredictable Odin. Then, Dr. Foster was on Asgard, and under Frigga’s protection, and a terrible, unprecedented opportunity – a chance to rest, and then do some good.

She used her magic to create the necessary glamours, fighting Kurse with a double until he wrung its neck. She left the double where it was, for Thor, Odin, and Jane to find, going so far as to make it appear that she had stopped breathing. It had taken an enormous effort from her magic so suddenly, but so far as Asgard and her family knew, she was dead. She stayed on Asgard to maintain the double until it was sent up in a funeral pier, while simultaneously keeping the glamour of a peasant woman over herself. With the double gone, she allowed herself to rest from draining her magic, then used a bag from the royal treasury to buy a small spaceship.

POST-THOR: THE DARK WORLD:

No one ever discovered where the missing money had gone, so that she knew, and so long as she kept up a glamour, Frigga found herself blissfully free to travel wherever she wanted. She healed wherever she went, giving passage and safekeeping sometimes to those who needed it. She felt useful and happy and good again.

POST-THOR: RAGNAROK:

But she had never meant for her absence from Asgard to be permanent, only a long vacation, and she would deal with the repercussions of her hasty actions when she returned. After two years, though, she suddenly heard rumors of a new… dictator, a queen, taking over Asgard. Violently. Frigga returned to her ship, and to Asgard, as quickly as possible.

But Asgard was going up in smoke, and she was barely able to find radio waves claiming to be coming from Asgardian refugees. Yet again, she was just too late. Horrified, still shrouded in a glamour, she rescued the few floating, live stragglers that she could and rendezvoused with them under the care of the last remaining Valkyrie. Staying quietly to the sidelines and always disguised, she helped them rebuild on Midgard, hoping that here, calling herself a healer named Gitte, she could find a way to be useful to the downtrodden people who had no idea she was their queen.

VERSES:

FROM THIS MOMENT ON: follows canon MCU and Norse Mythology

ROAD LESS TRAVELED: any other AU threads

AUS:

SO MANY WAYS TO BE: (Descendants) queen of a country near, but not brought into, the US of Auradon

EVER EVER AFTER: (Fairytale) queen

BORROWED BABIES: (Foster Care) foster mother

I SOLEMNLY SWEAR THAT I’M UP TO NO GOOD: (Harry Potter) Ravenclaw seventh-year

ALL THAT GLEAMS AND GLITTERS: (Modern) an orthopedic surgeon

ALTERNATIVELY 1902: (Victorian) disguises herself as a nurse whenever she feels like interacting with the Midgardians

GROW UP WITH THE LAND: (Wild West) disguises herself as a nurse whenever she feels like interacting with the Midgardians

FORWARD TO VICTORY: (World War II) a disguises herself as a nurse whenever she feels like interacting with the Midgardians

BOLDLY GO: (Star Trek) Star Fleet counselor 

Starter Call

[viralhai]

MS Dhoni retires: 'Captain Cool' and his Nishkarma deeds | ViralHai News [ad_1]

by Karthikeya Tanna

Editor's Note: This piece was originally published on 9 February 2012, when MS Dhoni was still in charge of the Indian team in all forms of the game. Dhoni announced his international retirement on Saturday, August 15, covering his career, winning India in the 2007 ICC World T20, 2011 ICC World Cup and 2013 ICC Champions Trophy.

Given our tendency to elevate our cricketing heroes to demi-god status while winning, and to bring them down to a minimum level when losing, this article may have been wonderfully ill-conceived.

However, this trend symbolizes a bigger problem: our passion for cricket. And it only depends on whether someone like Dhoni takes over the reins of Team India, an Abhishek who bore a strong recommendation by the prophet Tendulkar.

this is nishkama In the deed of MSD which has sought to restore a glimpse of balance in Indian cricket. And when the Indian win started us appreciating it, a round of defeat brought us back to the aggression experienced during India's worst phases in cricket.

MSD captaincy and cricket have a very direct and straightforward 'case'. Amidst the many self-immolations between ex-captains and ex-seniors for their foray into Team India over the past few decades, Dhoni has described his honesty about himself and his team's performance as refreshing and, more importantly, enlightening. .

To borrow Peter Roebuck's elegant phrases, "the Rancho boy who does not give up or cry" is tantamount to seeing the game in his eye. Instead of gaining an unfair hollow victory by sledging or shouting at their peers, MSD has shown sheer strength. To gather yourself and your team after a loss, find a few minutes to smile and want to improve constantly.

He has been given the captaincy for his ability. But, he never let the captaincy get any better. Reuters

He has been given the captaincy for his ability. But, he never let the captaincy get the better of him. His cricket and his leadership go beyond the politics of dressing room and the glamor of power, which a proud BCCI is showing today. Many of us find it strange and untrue because it does not fit into the impulse of our lives - to occupy positions of power or to demonstrate our superiority with day-to-day politics or when aggression in others or Displays resentment. The team is not doing well. That is why we are desperate to see something suspicious or upset in his recent statements.

Dhoni is a true blue Indian dream, and not just because it is the story of a small town boy who is making it big. Indianness in them is reflective of the underlying philosophy Bhagavad Gita - That wishless action. This does not mean that Dhoni does not care for victory. nor does Bhagavad Gita It is said that. An inconsiderate eye must be on the identified target of one's action, but, at the same time, there should not be a continuous ejaculation after the fruit of that action. The aim is to be equally different from those extra celebrations that follow the win or have additional resentment after the loss.

Yoga Place Kuru Karmani sangam tyaktva dhananjaya siddhy-asiddhyoh samo bhutva Samatvam yoga utchete

Armed with your duty, O Arjuna, renounce all attachment to success or failure. Such equanimity is called yoga. (Verse 48, Chapter II)

MSD is on its way to achieving that state of self-realization. His detachment by desires, goals, meaningless figures, power position or legacy made it his mental state to seal the WC victory, as did Umesh Yadav's wicket winning 4–0 for Australia. This is what makes him an Indian - an anarchism in the rat race and a crab approach in colonial India.

And as recent media reports indicate, an Indian is not yet admirable in a fast-growing India that has either ignored it Geeta Misunderstood it as allowing for a narrow pretense of being secular, or an indifferent attitude towards one's work.

Team India's recent performances in England and Australia have a lot to do with the failure of the famous batting line-up, including with his leadership. Dhoni knows this more than anyone else. And while it is often said that how MSD has inherited a team Ganguly so efficiently, the question is not asked whether the team with the same heritage, at its peak, failed to perform well in two rounds. Is it because Dhoni did not inspire him enough? Isn't playing for Team India enough motivation already? And if it is about showing the way with hard work and determination, then Dhoni cannot be found wanting.

Continued on the following page

A major reason that cricket flourished, especially in post-1991 India, is due to the advent of cable TV and our desperation to find a sports hero who would be the world's envy, India's pride. Sachin Tendulkar is, undoubtedly, the best batsman of modern-day cricket, but God's status for him was due to the fact that he shone from a greater distance with his cunning skills than his Indian contemporaries of the time.

Cricket became an arena, of which there were only a few where Indians could defeat their heroes on a fairly regular basis in an international competition, especially when it was Pakistan. It gave a rare pleasure and satisfaction to a country waiting for true international pride. Therefore, cricket became a religion and Sachin is God. And ironically, each victory, though the result of aggressive combative ceremonies, has some sort of internal peace for Indians, similar to some religion. On the contrary, each loss deprived us of the inner peace that we easily expected from Indian cricket.

Dhoni's biggest, but perhaps unnoticed, contribution to cricket has been to elevate the state of cricket from one religion to one game - we need to be passionate about the game rather than being aggressive with wins and losses. To inspire And, as he consistently points out in press interviews, the true joy of cricket is in taking those skills to the result.

It is a pity that we are willing to accept that till he gives us victory.

[ad_2] "error":"message":"Operation timed out after 60001 milliseconds with 0 bytes received" #captain #cool #deeds #dhoni #news #nishkarma #retires #viralhai

[aqlyrics-blog]

911/ Mr. Lonely

New Post has been published on http://purelyrics.net/lyrics/tyler-the-creator-911-mr-lonely/

911/ Mr. Lonely

Part I: 911

–Intro: Tyler, The Creator– Call me, call me, call me, uh Call me, call me, call me, uh Call me, call me, call me, uh Call me, call me, call me Call me, how you doin’? Call me, my name is Lonely, nice to meet you Here’s my number You can reach me, woo!

–Chorus: Tyler, the Creator– Call me 911, call me some time You should call me 911, call me some time You should call me, oh 911 Call me 911

–Verse 1: Tyler, The Creator– Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah My thirst levels are infinity and beyond Sippin’ on that lemon, ayy, I need a Beyoncé Can’t see straight, these shades are Céline Dion Sucks you can’t gas me up, shout out to Elon Musk, yeah I got a sold out show Crowd wild out but it don’t matter ’cause you not front row I’ve been lookin’ for a keeper, listen to the speaker If you fit description, hit me on my beeper At that 911

–Bridge: Steve Lacy, Kilo Kish & Tyler, The Creator– Call me some time Ring, ring, ring Please bling my line, you know I’ll answer Click Call me some time Ring, ring, ring Please bling my line

–Chorus: Tyler, The Creator & Syd– Call me 911, call me some time You should call me 911, call me some time You should call me, oh 911 You should call me 911

–Verse 2: Frank Ocean– Chirp, chirp Chirp, chirp Woke up in the burbs, burbs With the the birds, birds Where you used to come and get me with the swerve, swerve These days you gotta find time Even the night line Work line Dial 9

–Verse 3: Tyler, The Creator– Five car garage Full tank of the gas But that don’t mean nothin’, nothin’ Nothin’, nothin’, without you shotgunnin’ the passenger I’m the loneliest man alive But I keep on dancin’ to throw ’em off I’m gon’ run out of moves ’cause I can’t groove to the blues If you know any DJs, tell ’em to call me at 911

Part II: Lonely

–Intro: Tyler, The Creator & ScHoolboy Q– I can’t even lie, I’ve been lonely as fuck Old lonely ass nigga… need to go and get some bitches or something I can’t even lie, I’ve been lonely as fuck Weird ass nigga I can’t even lie, I’ve been lonely as fuck I can’t even lie, I’ve been Lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely

–Verse: Tyler, The Creator– They say the loudest in the room is weak That’s what they assume, but they disagree I say the loudest in the room Is prolly the loneliest one in the room (it’s me) Attention seeker, public speaker Oh my God, that boy is so fuckin’ lonely Writin’ songs about these people Who do not exist, he’s such a fuckin’ phony One thing I know, is that I wanna Win so bad, but I’m not Chicago Heart is low, it’s real low, it’s so low You can’t lift me up, I’m like a ‘Lardo From the start it’s been real dark It’s been so dark I guess you could call it charbroiled, huh I’m playin’ like Hasbro I’m really sorry, call me auto Crashed the McLaren, bought me a Tesla I know you sick of me talkin’ ’bout cars (skrrt) But what the fuck else do you want from me? That is the only thing keepin’ me company Purchase some things until I’m annoyed These items is fillin’ the void Been feelin’ it for so long I don’t even know if it’s shit I enjoy (oh) Goin’ backdoors and at door My partner is a chateau I need love, do you got some I could borrow? Fuck it, I can find some tomorrow Woah, but that never comes Like a vasectomy, what have I done? I got the talent, the face and the funds Found myself long ago but I haven’t found someone (who) Mirror, mirror on the wall (who) The loneliest of them all (me) Cupid actin’ stupid Do you got another number I could call? Never had a pet I’ve never had a pet There’s more fish in the sea But I never had a goldfish to begin with I never had a dog So I’ve never been good with bitches ‘Cause I never threw a ball, fetch I never had a pet, that’s where it stems from, I bet Treat me like direct deposit Check in on me sometime Ask me how I’m really doin’ So I never have to press that 911

–Outro– Oh! Damn! Damn!