𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒉 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆.

𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑬 (3) 𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑰𝑪𝑬𝑺   \    accepting   !

💍 : fuck, marry, kill.

𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑰𝑭 𝑴𝑬𝑴𝑬   \    accepting   !

𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑰𝑭 𝑴𝑬𝑴𝑬   \    accepting   !

𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑬 (3) 𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑰𝑪𝑬𝑺   \    accepting   !

💰 : rob a bank with, hide a body with, rat out to the cops.

Send in "what if" meta questions!

What if ____ never happened? What if ____ did happen? What if they never met ____? What if they were ____? ect!!

virusinfected-memes​:

THREE (3) CHOICES ;

Send an emoji below + three (3) different characters / muses that my muse must pick from! Some choices are considered ns / fw.

💍 - fuck, marry, kill. we already did this one but w/e  💋 - hug, cuddle, kiss. 💫 - fight, tickle, insult. 🦋 - befriend, adopt, ignore. 🥊 - pinch, slap, punch. ✨ - summon, banish, absorb. 🗳️ - vote for, vote against, run against. ☕ - get coffee with, go out to dinner with, steal their food. 💰 - rob a bank with, hide a body with, rat out to the cops. 🚦 - be stuck in an elevator with, be stuck in traffic with, be stuck in the apocalypse with. 🎉 - hang out with, party with, ghost. 🍪 - make cookies for, make a five-course meal for, burn all their food. 🔪 - protect, attack, fight side-by-side with. 💬 - SEND IN YOUR OWN THREE OPTIONS NOT LISTED ABOVE!

send my muse prying asks about their sex life with a ship partner.

she’s  still  twenty - three  inside  her  fantasy,  and  you’re  sitting  in  front  of  me.

“Decrypt? Well, intend to decrypt me you shall… but might I warn you that I am not an open book and I have many sides to myself. You’ll figure me out when pigs fly.”

“I could care less about your throne, excuse my honesty and my frigid tone but I really don’t care.” Evelina said in her thick Russian accent.

She was silent for a moment, shooting him an icy glare as she followed him before she took a deep breath. She remembered her sister’s words and decided to heed her advice… for now at least.

“Perhaps for my sister’s sake… we can try to put aside our differences and get along. I am extending an olive branch so to speak, and I hope you will take it. How about we attempt to start over? Maybe we could start by telling each other what we thought of each other when we first saw the other person. I shall go first… I thought it odd for a man to have such red hair.” Evelina said with a giggle.

“No offense but I had never seen such a thing before… at least not on a man. It is quite a handsome feature, I will give you that much.” This was indeed a test, to see if he really was as unpleasant as he seemed or if he was just witty in a sense.

“I don’t necessarily relish anything about you but you also seemed quite odd to me when I first met you. You still are quite odd. Don’t mistake any of this as me taking a liking to you. I’m simply being honest.” Evelina said.

In her head she hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t take any of what she was saying the wrong way.

“My sister, has she said anything about me? About how I used to be?” She asked.

       ❛  i find it odd you should extend the olive branch to me, when it is you who has instigated this war.  ❜  russet brows flattened over his eyes, knitting together stonily. the prince’s footfalls resonant upon corridors of marble, his hastened strides served to absorb a fraction of the grim silence that descended between them, swelling with the swish of evelina’s skirts at her ankles; and, rather optimistically, he prayed they would happen upon katherine before the duchess put him at the business-end of her proclivity for chucking bowls at unsuspecting heads. harry crossed his fingers at the knuckles, held protectively behind his spine, as he cleared his throat to voice: ❛   i assure you, your grace, my intentions toward your sister are holy. we are married in the eyes of god, and he does not look fondly upon those who discredit our union.  but ... i may be persuaded to let bygones be bygones, for the sake of this family. ❜  olive-hued irises cast a sidelong glance toward his sister-in-law, beginning to doubt if the occultist presence brooking the plethora of fractured relationships within the plantagenet family was at all heavenly. noting the sheen of distaste that still lingered upon her upper-lip alike a swipe a sweat, his eyes hoisted heavenward; locking upon the band of angelic apostles carved in the barreled vaults ahead. ❛  god above pray that i do not live to regret it.  ❜ 

POINT  DIVIDER  FOR  𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑹𝒀 𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑻

Ivan smiled softly at the tiny child, her bronzen curls lapping against his fingertips as she grasped his shoulder.  She recognized him, he saw in the gleam of her eye, and Ivan’s heart gave a small jolt of pleasure, remembering that she had not when he’d first arrived in England, some months ago.  It had been a strange thing - this tender, dear piece of her beloved mother who did not know him, when once Ivan had been almost a father to Katrinka - Katherine, as she now preferred.

Ivan felt a tangle of bitterness at that thought.  It was how it should be, of course: Adalsinda, too, had adopted Yuliya upon her arrival to Russia, but this knowledge was not a balm upon the knowledge that something once precious to him had been lost: his little Katrinka.

“You’ve a firm grip,” he said to the child, touching her peach-soft cheek, before directing his gaze to the Prince of Wales.  “Your father should be proud.”

Ivan chuckled softly.  “I can only imagine how the journey went with this one.  What did you make of the sea, little one?”  He turned more fully to Harry.  “And for you?  How did the journey progress?”  

Something in Katherine’s manner concerned Ivan and, while she insisted that all was well, he did not trust so easily in her bluster - he’d seen it times enough to recognize it as a distraction from unpleasantness.  Katherine was well strong enough to fight her own battles, he knew, but it didn’t mean she should have to - if he could be her ally, he would be.  That was what it meant to be her brother.  He hoped, now, that Harry would say something, let something slip, and he would have a better understanding of what was happening: if Katherine would not tell him, perhaps her husband would.

         formidable rulers are often proceeded by monikers one’s people bestow upon them; laid, before the throne, in the form of wreathes and tokens of reverence. his father garnered the undivided affections of his countrymen by virtue of his romanticism; harry’s uncle, the king of portugal, by dint of his numerous conquests, having laid claim to iberian glory at the end of an ichor-steeped sword. the tsar of russia, on the other hand, had been named, aptly so, for his frightfulness and brazen cruelty––and his byname, ivan the terrible, had cloaked him in second skin, a flesh that shone, flashed ersatz, like a snake’s belly baking beneath the welsh sun, rather than that of a man’s, tender and hot. aware of his gaze upon him, harry refused to grant his brother-in-law the satisfaction of ebbing beneath his icy, serpentine gaze. he flickers a brow instead, charisma––mottled with bitterness––embodied, ❛  the princess mary is a plantagenet, your grace, through to her core.  ❜  his daughter’s bloodline, an alloy of both english and russian influence, had commended her incredible fortitude; and yet, as the future king’s only child, she would only ever reap the benefits of her paternal ancestry. he wets the bourn of his lips, darkened with the spoils of french generosity, a stain of plum-red claret.  ❛  she proved curious, but undaunted, by the channel’s turbulent whimsey. remind me, brother, of your own daughter: she is of a similar age to mary’s, yes? and with any luck, far less willful.  ❜

She took childish joy in whipping her skirts against the floor, in boasting of her previous mention of meeting his wife. The little Mary, who was draped in stubbornly English colours, seemed the perfect mirage of both parents; and Joanna, looking for fault, took closer inspection to peek for Russian qualities (a large nose, a prominent brow or the stern scorn normally worn by Her inhabitants). Focused in on the child, a smile sticking upon red lips, a moment passed before she reacted to Harry’s slight. But she didn’t snap — for his attitude was common, and perhaps, more edible than his faux kindness that slurped off his lips with awkwardness. This taunt, teasing her before the young girl, left Joanna to only laugh out loud for the entire room to dwell in. “A bedfellow? Do you really think someone of your blood would be so crass?” Joanna retorted, her nose wrinkling before reaching forward to extend her fore-finger, pressing it against the tip of her cousin’s nose.

Skin to skin, it seemed that the cousins would’ve been better off as siblings — but Joanna was glad to at least have her mother’s beauty rather than his father’s nose. With a laugh, cackling like a child, Joanna threw herself into the chair by Harry’s side, lounging against the high backing before putting a finger to her mouth before extending her arms towards Mary, gesturing her forward. “You have not changed, I am unsure if I am glad or bereft… Perhaps I fear for England, is all,” she sneered, before taking Mary’s hands into her own, holding her as if she were made of cotton rather than skin and bone. “We must pray that you grow to look more like your mother, dear Mary — I will think of your dear nose,” from ear to ear, she mirrored the action earlier pressed for Mary’s father, pressing her finger upon the soft tip of the young Princess. “How does marriage suit you, Harry? Is it everything you ever imagined and hoped for?”

         ❛  i have my own suspicions that we are at all blood related, joanna.  ❜  harry’s lips quirk into an impish smirk, paired with a sound of amusement that husks betwixt his lips. yet, even as the chortle eludes him, he acknowledges that only the blind would be hard pressed to deny the cousin’s close kinship––her features remind him starkly of his late mother’s, albeit somehow, he doubts if it was probable that queen eleanor ever appeared so spry, so youthful, caressed by the haze of springtide. even in his earliest memories of his mother, he recalls her sternness; a pointed, aquiline nose descending into twitching, distressed lips, encompassed with creases of abiding affliction. he casts the memory aside with a square of his shoulders, a hand protectively drifting upon the small of mary’s spine. still, in the innocence of joanna’s eyes lingers the late queen’s spectre and, too, within isabel’s every night-terror she lives anew. harry’s voice is miraculously jubilant, magnetic in his jovial demeanour, when he rejoins,  ❛  the day we discover you are secretly a by-blow is the day i relinquish my titles.  ❜

If she were younger and not taught how to be a proper Duchess she would have tried to find something… anything to throw at him by now. But she was the Rose of Russia, she knew not to cause anymore trouble between the two families or else the consequences would be dire.

She remembered the talk her sister and her had. Her sister excused her husband’s rudeness as witty banter… Evelina could have laughed in her sister’s face. Harry had pulled the wool over her sister’s eyes, but Evelina was far from being blinded by her brother-in-law.

“Oh, well I hope you don’t think I am brainless your grace but I thought that in order to protect a wife, a witty husband like yourself who holds great power should know where his wife is at all times… in case something were to happen to her.” She said with a smile before she continued speaking.

“Thank you for helping me look for her. Have you been doing well?”

       harry could sense the acrimony she harboured for him, the indignation that simmered just beneath the surface of her skin; occasionally leaping, alike a surging cobalt vein, to her throat. he was chiefly privy to her disregard for him because he, too, was beginning to nurse pangs of rancor toward his sister-in-law in return––rolling his hand into a fist, tucked discreetly behind his spine, gleam laced with venom. it was not that he felt slighted by her churlishness, but rather her petulance; he presumed, rather tetchy himself, that ivan was not as terrible as his moniker insinuated, for if he was, then he ought to have put evelina squarely in her place years ago. still, harry proved fond of bloodsport, resolving to volley until evelina’s composure unraveled and mayhap he would be on the wrathful end of the tsar’s lambasting.  ❛  my apologies, duchess; if you would have me play the role of caretaker to your sister, rather than prepare to inherit my father’s throne, i’ll gladly do so. ❜  lips descending into an impatient glower, he voice pertly:  ❛  only, i cannot promise there will be a throne to inherit should i heed your advice. ❜