incognito i am not

Royalty Mess: Part One

author’s note: I’m such a sucker for royalty and Shawn but I won’t be making Shawn as a Prince here just for reasons, sorry. Feedback is very welcomed x

Masterlist

Prologue


”Don’t be silly,” another non-grateful glance from my mother was sent straight to my face, ”you can be eighteen but it doesn’t mean you can go outside by yourself to meet your loving boyfriend.”

”And he is still not allowed to come to the palace, how equal is that?” Madness took over me again, trying to explain the Queen herself that I deserve some normal lad’s rights too. ”People don’t know that we are a thing, isn’t that already enough to go incognito and be myself who I am already?” I sighed.

”You’re a Princess, my darling. We do have to be careful what we are doing and saying, not just loose in and go with the flow,” her sigh was louder and more angrier than before. ”Also, in my opinion, but I don’t know  your father’s, you should break up with him - it’s not going to work out like that way. Come on, look at your nephew Harold, what happened with him and this girl Hannah - kinda hurtful, wasn’t it?”

Keep reading

“So I was looking at the tags of the fursuit heat stroke post that you reblogged and saw this-

exPLAIN

(also ignore the fact that I am in incognito browsing *swEATS*)”

Response: uhh

Unbetaed, unedited, and rushed, but here ya go

————————————————–

“Wait so run that by me again?  We’re doing what now?”

“We’re gonna take the bus to here,” you say as you point at the map to Florida.

“Flow-ride-da?”

“Flow-re-da.  Long e sound, Roddy.  We’re not gonna go see the rapper.”

Rodimus scratches at his head confused.

“Okay sure, but why do I have to holomatter there,” a sly grin appears on his face, “I mean I could transform and you could ride me there.”  We wiggles his eyebrows and you shoot him an incredulous look.

“Yeah, that would be great but you always insist on looking like a Lamborghini or Mercedes or something other stupidly expensive car.  We’re suppose to be incognito.”

“I just want a form that accurately depicts how sexy I am.  Anything less would be a disservice to the world.  Not my fault I’m so damn hot.”

“Look I’m sorry we have to take the Greyhound-“

“Greyhound? I thought you said bus.  Oh!  I’ve seen this on tv, its the thingy with the sled and a bunch of dogs attached to it and you stand on the back and the dogs just kinda pull you there.  Why didn’t you say that sooner, that sounds so fun!”  And damn he sounds so excited you don’t really wanna burst his bubble but…

“No,”  you pause a bit as Rodimus’ face falls and you hesitate a bit, “Greyhound is a type of bus service, and here it is right now.”

You both turn to look as the big bus turns a corner and up to the parking lot.  You wave your hand around vaguely.  “There it is.  That’s our ride.”

Rodimus looks devastated when he sees the bus.
“Not to late for me to transform…” he mutters as you take his hand in your own and drag him onto the bus.

“Honestly, I’ll scan a shitty car and we can go that way,” he continues when you both step on.  It’s not crowded, but the ailse are currently full of people trying to move their stuff to their seat, babies are crying, the air is a little stuffy from all the people huffing as they poke and prod each other into moving.

“Too late buddy, we’re already on.  It’s won’t be that bad…hopefully.”  You say as you gently nudge your way around a lady who is trying to rearrange her stuff .

You take a seat, with Rodimus besides you near the window.

“It’ll be okay once everything settles down,” you take his hand in yours and give a gentle squeeze.

“I doubt it.”  He’s already slumped in his seat, a frown seemingly set permanently as he pouts.

————————————————————

The frown doesn’t last long.  Once everyone was finally settled down and the bus actually started moving, a little life came back to Rodimus.

He was currently staring outside the windows, eyes wide as he saw the myriads of building passing by.  He would pull on your hand and ask about anything and everything.  What’s that building.  What are those people eating?  What kind of breed is that dog?  Can he have one?  Why not?  Why’s the traffic so damn bad?  Is that little girl two rows ahead staring at him?  And so on and so forth.

Eventually though, night came and with it the silence on the bus as everyone slowly drifted off to sleep.  The lights in the bus were dimmed down, but Rodimus was still staring outside with a faint smile on his face.  He turned to look at you, as your eyes slowly closed and your head tilted to lay on your shoulder.  He moved it so that you were laying your head on his shoulder instead and he rested his head on top of yours.

“Hey,” he whispered to you, mindful of the quietness on the bus, “You were right.”

He moved your hand, intwined with his own, and placed a chaste kiss on the back of it.

“It wasn’t so bad.” 

//////////////////

OH MY GOD I NEARLY FAINTED BUT THIS TIME IT WAS BECAUSE THIS IS SO CUTE I CAN’T HANDLE HOW FUCKING AMAZING RODIMUS IS HKJGDFSSDKLL

Thank you so much I love it!! Especially Rodimus saying how hot he is, I laughed out loud!! You’re the best! 💖💖💖💖💖

ME time.

I just need a day. A day to myself. A day when I’m not overwhelmed. A day when I don’t hear/speak the words - Wedding, Invitation, Agra, Decorator, Saree, Washers, Market Share, Sales mix, Escutcheon, Edge, BOM.

So, I’ve decided to do something. Tomorrow morning, I will leave home, but instead of going to work, I’m gonna go somewhere else. I’m gonna pack up my art supplies and go somewhere and draw, and be on the internet and just… forget my responsibilities, for the day. Not tell anyone where I am, and just be incognito. Is that too weird to wanna do this?

“Does this shirt make me look flat?”

Trying to alleviate some dysphoria before my mom gets here and makes me wear a dress by wearing my binder (I like dresses but they don’t help me pass at all)… honestly today just sucks; im scared to meet my roomate but im just ready 2 b gone. I hate this town. Hopefully she will let me get a haircut, though. I really want one. I’m ready to cut this bad boy all off again. Maybe when I look more masc I’ll grow it out again. But for now, I’ll stay closeted and just pretend I’m a girl who likes short hair. (when in fact i am a boy who likes short hair, mwahaha. incognito!)

Happy Birthday, aoisakai!

July 3 - “You are so mean… and I’m okay with that.” Thranduil/Darcy Lewis for @aoisakai

(Yes, Thranduil from LoTR. I know I don’t normally write LoTR characters, but for aoisakai, I made a special exception - and recruited help with Thranduil’s characterisation from @little-red-83 , without whom this would NOT have been possible)

 Asgard was even more impressively shiny than Darcy expected. And not only the place, the people. She’d already met the Warriors Three and Lady Sif, of course, but everyone in Asgard seemed to be impressive physical specimens.

Although that guy was in a whole class of his own. Her head swivelled to watch the tall blond as he walked past her through the long hallway, and she noticed something startling.

“Thor,” she tugged at his arm. “Thor, that dude has pointy ears!”

Thor glanced in the direction of her pointing finger and let loose with one of his hearty laughs. “Darcy, ‘that dude’ is King Thranduil, a visiting dignitary from Alfheim.”

“Wait,” her eyes popped. “Alfheim - elves?”

“Yes, I believe Midgardians called them such, when the Alfheimr walked your world.”

“Fuuuuck,” Darcy whispered under her breath, awed. “Janey, elves! Elves are REAL!”

Jane was far too busy playing with some bit of Asgardian technology she’d scooped up from a table when nobody was looking, though, and Darcy was left to stare in amazement at the blond elf, who’d stopped at the end of the hallway to speak to someone. He really was the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen, all long clean limbs and smooth shiny hair. As though sensing her scrutiny, he turned his head and looked directly at her.

Embarrassed to have been caught staring, Darcy turned hastily away, blushing a little, unaware that Thranduil’s eyes slid over her curves with more than a passing interest.

“Thranduil?” Loki, still masquerading as Odin, said impatiently as the Alfheimr king’s attention drifted.

“Your pardon, All-Father,” but Thranduil was still looking down the hallway. “It has been long since humans walked the halls of Asgard.”

Loki ground his teeth together. “Yes,” he said tightly. “Yes, Prince Thor’s beloved is Midgardian. She is visiting here at the moment, along with her lady companion.”

“Ah,” Thranduil nodded in understanding, dragging his attention away from the woman’s shapely behind with some effort. He did not care for this weakness in himself, for the more curvaceous forms of human women, but it should be easy enough to withstand temptation if there were only two of them on Asgard and one was spoken for!

Thranduil had to restrain the urge to bang his head hard against the carved timber back of his chair when he saw who his partner at the dinner table was. Glancing along the table, he met Odin’s smirk and silently fumed. Odin disliked mortals even more than Thranduil; no doubt the places at the table had been arranged to keep them as far from the All-Father as possible. In no way could seating the maiden beside a king be considered insulting to Thor, though Thranduil might have been insulted. If he hadn’t known very well that it was merely Odin’s foul sense of humour asserting itself.

He couldn’t even rely on any assistance in keeping the human in conversation, since Volstagg was seated on her other side, and Thranduil knew that the Asgardian would pay attention to nothing but his food. With a small, resigned sigh, Thranduil bent his head in polite acknowledgement as the Midgardian woman seated herself and stared around with wide, incredulous blue eyes.

“Oh!” she looked directly at him then, started and blushed. It was a becoming look, Thranduil realised unwillingly; almost as becoming as the silken saffron-coloured gown which certainly made the most of her figure. From the vantage of his height, he could take in the spectacular view of her cleavage as well as her face.

“How do you do? I’m Darcy Lewis,” she said, in tones that were obviously intended to be polite.

She does not know that she must wait for me to speak first, since I am of higher rank, Thranduil thought contemptuously; but the voice of his conscience, a voice which sounded suspiciously like that of his son, pointed out dryly that Darcy Lewis had no way to know of his rank. He wasn’t wearing his crown, not here in the halls of Asgard.

“Thranduil of Mirkwood and Alfheim, Lady Darcy,” he responded in cool tones.

“You mean King Thranduil, don’t you, Your Majesty?” she said with a pert little smile. “Or is this some attempt to go incognito?”

So she does know who I am, he thought. Aloud he said “In the halls of Asgard, my title means little, Lady Darcy.”

“Well, I have no title at all, so please, call me Darcy.” She offered a rather charming little smile. Amused despite wanting to dislike her - this would be a lot easier if she had a face like a horse and the voice of a crow - Thranduil returned the smile.

“As you please. And are you enjoying your visit to Asgard, Darcy?” Politely, he lifted the flagon of wine in front of him, tilted it invitingly towards Darcy’s cup.

“Thank you,” she nodded for him to pour. “Yes, I am. Jane told me how incredibly beautiful it is, but I don’t think anything could have prepared me. There is a feeling of incredible age, and yet everything looks so new and shining. It’s a curious dichotomy, such that I can’t help but wonder if it is shared by other long-lived, highly advanced races. Is Alfheim similar, Your Majesty?”

Thranduil blinked, not at all prepared for the insightful, intriguing response she had delivered to his merely rhetorical question. Humans have evolved much since last I encountered some, he thought privately, refilling his own cup.

“Similar and yet different,” he replied in response to her question. “My people live in a closer communion with Nature than the Æsir.”

“I have to ask,” she took a sip of the wine, smiling as she found that she liked the taste, “are Midgardian stories of elves anything like the reality? Mm, that’s really nice,” she took another, longer sip.

“I do not know,” Thranduil said a little stiffly. “It has been many centuries since last I spoke with one of your kind.” He took a long drink of the wine to mask his discomfort. At least Asgardian wine was tolerable, unlike the ghastly swill produced on Midgard. He hoped Darcy Lewis appreciated the difference.

“Because there’s a Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, in this really awesome book by an incredibly famous author in our world, John Ronald Reuel Tolkein…”

Thranduil almost choked on his wine, failing to suppress a snarl. Volstagg, on Darcy’s other side, started chortling. “Oh yes, tell her about Tolkein, Thranduil!”

Darcy looked from Thranduil to Volstagg with a grin beginning on her face. “This is going to be good. I can just tell.” Having another slug of the wine, she nudged Thranduil, who had gone very stiff, in the ribs. “Go on, Thrandy. Fill me in.”

He was too angered even by the mention of Tolkein’s name to notice what she had called him. “Tolkein was not a writer of your world. He was Alfheimr, banished for… for…” this was so embarrassing. Especially with Darcy’s bright-eyed gaze bent on him inquiringly. “He was a court bard, banished for writing and singing mocking tales.”

“About you,” she guessed with a chuckle.

“Yes, about me! And in his vengeance he mocked me further yet, by bastardising some of our greatest legends into stories for the amusement of the primitive humans we sent him to live among!”

Darcy couldn’t help it. She collapsed into laughter.

Thranduil’s frown grew more thunderous. Every time Darcy looked at him, her giggles resurged, no matter how hard she tried to throttle them back.

Eventually, Thranduil found a small smile growing on his own face.

“Legolas told me that it was my own fault for being a ‘complete pompous prig’, as he put it,” he admitted. “It is possible that my son may have had a point.”

“Oh, dear,” Darcy had to wipe at her streaming eyes. “Oh, that is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Tolkein’s entire body of work is bad fanfiction?”

Thranduil’s rueful grin confirmed it. She grabbed her cup of wine and swigged another mouthful down to avoid another fit of the giggles. Thranduil poured her some more, which was probably a really terrible idea because she was already feeling very warm and fuzzy. And giggly, but then he’d just told her something utterly and totally hilarious. Even if he was, apparently, the butt of the joke.

“I think you should have some more of that too,” Darcy said, “quite a lot of it, actually, and then you might unbend a bit and I can ask you if Sauron really was a complete and utter bastard. And if your son Legolas is as hot as you, or even as hot as Orlando Bloom.”

Laughing despite himself, Thranduil took a long drink from his own cup. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d already had half a flagon;  perhaps that was the reason he was finding her rather amusing. Asgardian wine did have a kick to it that the vintages produced on Alfheim lacked. That the little mortal had drunk a whole cup and only succumbed to a giggle fit was quite remarkable.

“You are so mean,” he said confidingly to her when she nudged him again. “I’m okay with that,” he discovered, rather to his surprise. “I like you, Darcy Lewis of Midgard. You must tell me who this Orlando Bloom is, and why you think Legolas might resemble him.”

“I’m gonna get Heimdall to send me back tomorrow to pick up my DVDs,” she said. “And a player - and a TV - no, on second thoughts, I’ll just grab a StarkPad, somehow I don’t think the electricity supplies are going to be compatible.” Grinning up at Thranduil, she said “Because you REALLY need a Hobbit marathon, Thrandy.”

“After that, you shall come with me to visit Alfheim,” he said magnanimously, “and you shall judge for yourself its beauty.” Though he had already decided that he had no intention of introducing her to Legolas.

This little mortal, Thranduil would keep for himself.

Having recruited @little-red-83 into helping me write this, I then managed to convince her that she’d love to continue it into its own story. Consequently, you’ll shortly see a new story on Ao3 co-authored by us both appear. There is no second part yet, but you will be able to follow the continuing adventures of Darcy and Thranduil there :D

5

Nails inspired by Marissa Meyer’s Cinder.

I’m sorry if these nails are sloppier than normal, although I like how the gradient came out. I spent all night reading Rites of Passage by Joy N. Hensley and it was amazing and I couldn’t put it down. I’m running on three hours of sleep. Hahaha! But there was no way I was going to miss the prompt for today. So here I am.

Nail polish used:
China Glaze White on White
OPI Incognito in Sausalito

Enjoy! I’ll do manis for the other books in this series some time. No review for this on the book blog. Read this book guys, it’s a highly imaginative retelling of the Cinderella story set in dystopian Beijing. Cyborgs, cute princes and people living on the moon? Hell yeah. 

Bed. Please. 

VIXX , injury, promotions, streaming

Starlights, Vixx are halting the promotions of fantasy, due to ISAC injury (leo got an injury).JELPI ARE LETTING THE BOYS REST!!!!!
So they won’t be nominated in music shows (like the show) for the rest of the week. But WE STARLIGHTS SHOULD NOT LET THIS AMAZING SONG FALL OF THE CHARTS. Since we don’t have to focus on voting we CAN FOCUS ON STREAMING, we still need that drama version.

We don’t want the boys feeling guilty for resting (THEY REALLY NEED IT, Ravi apparently has a cold too 🙁).
So please Starlights, let’s show the boys our support and love, let’s show them that we keep thinking about them. Let’s make sure people don’t forget about Vixx and fantasy promotions even if it’s a halt of a week. Vixx are resting for the first time during promotions. Let’s make sure that our boys can see our hard work just as jelpi is working to keep them safe and healthy.

Starlights power is the best 💪🏽. I will now logout to stream this mv incognito, at 720 p, with the volume at like 70 %.

pantherlover  asked:

Because of that COMPLETELY unfair photoset from a couple days ago, could I request Sid/Geno Cinderella (or general fairytale) AU please?

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Sid jumps. He had picked this corner of the ballroom on purpose, because it was just out of the way enough that no one could possibly run into him. Even with the beautiful suit Jaromir had given him, which shone darkly under the lights, and his skin scrubbed clean from soot, he still feels awkward and out of place. When he turns around, he finds –

“Oh,” he says, feeling flustered, and quickly bows, feeling rather like the chickens in the inn yard. “Your Highness.”

Prince Evgeni of Muscovy waves his hands quickly. “You don’t need to bow,” he says, his accent flattening out his vowels. “I snuck out. Am incognito.”

“Right,” Sid says, straightening up, automatically reaching to brush the back of his neck. “I – it is very beautiful.”

“Do you live here?” the Prince asks, nodding towards the ballroom.

“Oh, no,” Sid says quickly, thinking back to Bettman’s inn and his pallet by the kitchen fire. “I live –” he pauses, remembering his disguise. The Prince probably thinks he’s some nobleman. “Not here.”

“I see you, I think I know you,” the Prince says, smiling down at Sid, and oh, it’s even more devastating than when Sid ran into him in the market, when he was just Geno.

“We haven’t met,” Sid says, smiling back despite himself.

“Well,” the Prince says. “My name is Evgeni, which maybe you know. But, better if you call me Geno.”

“Geno,” Sid says. “It’s good to meet you.”

“Do I get to know your name?” Geno asks, his grin going crooked.

“It’s a secret,” Sid says quickly. He doesn’t know how far Jaromir’s magic goes – maybe Geno won’t recognize him, maybe not, but he doesn’t want to take the chance. “I – would you show me the grounds?”

“The gardens?” Geno says, sounding puzzled, but then his face clears and his smile returns, sharp and bright as before. “I know someplace better. Do you like horses, oh handsome stranger?” He offers out his hand.

With a nod, Sid takes it. Geno’s fingers wrap around his own, strong and warm, and Sid shivers. He reflexively glances up at the massive clock, arms swooping towards the ten and twelve, and silently hopes that his night won’t end quite yet.