#Really excited for the OC joust

[mysterystar2]

@just-some-guy-joust My gal Gloria is going up against Levi from @imfirequeen !! Gasp! Our white-haired autistics are gonna beat each other up (in a nice way)!!

#They're both autism creatures! #Really excited for the OC joust #Everyone has such amazing just some guys #I love everyone's just some guys #Yippee #As soon as I saw the description saying autism creature I pulled up this drawing

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

A Jester's Token

HEY SO. I wrote a thing. Based on @oblivionsdream's Knight/Jester OCs, who are SUPER AMAZING, which you can find here.

Thank you for your wonderful art!! And also accidentally inspiring a jester obsession in me 🤡

No warnings, contains a little suggestiveness, 3.4k words 💖

*

The grounds were alive with activity. The King doted upon his sons, and now with his second eldest’s twentieth birthday only a scant few days away, the celebrations were in full swing.

The prince, as was his wont, had demanded a tournament to celebrate the day of his birth. The King, as always, had been unable to refuse. And the Knight was looking forward to a week of respite; of celebration and jousting and fun instead of training and war council meetings.

Typically, he tried to remain impassive and stoic with his fellow knights. It was what was expected of him as the King’s champion, after all, and besides: it added an edge to his demeanour that meant orders were obeyed. The other knights weren’t to know that beneath his shining, shuttered helm he was wondering if the stable cat had birthed her kittens yet.

Still he kept his head high as he strode across the grounds, heading towards the armoury where he had left his sword that morning to be honed and polished. Several other knights turned to glance at him as he passed: one, he noticed, standing immediately to attention as he did.

The deference was useful, he supposed, but he hoped it did not extend to the tournament itself. It would be a dull affair if everybody he encountered was afraid of the King’s champion knight.

As he approached the armoury, a familiar noise perked up his ears. He found his steps faltering, his sure stride suddenly broken.

Not everybody was afraid of him.

He turned just in time to see the grinning face of the Jester as he sauntered over, his motley - brand new for the tournament in festive greens and reds - lit up in the dazzling summer sunshine. His hair haloed from his head, sticking in yellow waves from beneath his cap’n’bells. His eyes - startlingly bright, one dark, one nearly gold - shone with excitement. 

“Good morning, Sir!” he said cheerily, “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Lovelier for you, the Knight didn’t say.

“It is indeed,” he said. “Perfect for a tournament.”

“Perfect for a party,” the Jester countered. “I called into the ale tent on the way here, have you seen how stocked it is? Forget the tournament, I fear our Lord means to drown us. Can you swim in that?” he pinged a fingernail against the Knight’s plate.

The Knight rolled his eyes, forgoing a response.

“Although,” the Jester continued merrily, “I must admit, these events always make me laugh.”

“Oh?”

“Come,” the Jester said, “Oh ho - here I am, the picture of virile manhood! Beware my powerful—” he gave a short, sharp thrust. “Lance.”

The Knight bit his tongue to stop himself from laughing. “You have a filthy mind.”

“You should hear me talk about maypoles.”

“I would really rather not.”

“I can do some wonderful things with ribbons, you know.”

“Anything useful in a tournament?” 

“Depends what you need,” the Jester said, catching him with a sidelong glance. “I’m very good with knots.”

The Knight swallowed, saying nothing.

“Well!” The Jester said, clearly unphased. “I am afraid I am wanted by— well, by everyone. Which makes it such a shame that I’d rather spend my morning following you around. Nevermind.” His smile twitched a little, before settling back into a grin. “Good luck, my Knight!”

And with that, he was off. The Knight watched him leave, swaying through the crowds with his typically fluid movement. While the Knight would be entering competitions, the Jester would be entertaining in a much different way: joking and turning somersaults and charming the King and his guests. He even had a role in the joust alongside the announcer, riling up the crowds and mocking the competitors.

With luck, the Knight would be able to watch him perform. He enjoyed watching the Jester show off, and he loved his jokes, not that he would ever allow the Jester himself to realise that. The first time they had met he’d been forced to remove himself lest he make an utter fool of himself, and since then the Jester had taken him as a challenge, when he wasn’t making a game of flirting with him.

With a sigh, and a final glance at the Jester’s departing figure, he walked on towards the armoury. He noticed Sir Rowan lingering just outside, standing beside Lady Felicity - one of the Queen’s Ladies in Waiting. Without thinking, he called out a greeting to his fellow knight.

As he approached, he realised far too late that what he thought was simply a polite conversation between knight and lady was something far more intimate. Sir Rowan’s head was tilted just so, Lady Felicity leaning in a little too close. Their hands, he realised, were linked.

Shit. But it was too late now; he had already hailed Sir Rowan and he couldn’t very well turn heel and run. Lady Felicity quickly snatched her hands away, her face mottling in a sweet, pink blush before giving him a slightly lopsided curtsey, bidding them both farewell and quickly rushing off. 

As The Knight drew closer, he noticed a scrap of fabric clasped in Rowan’s hand. He pretended not to have seen it as Rowan quickly tucked it into his breastplate.

A favour, then. He hadn’t realised that Sir Rowan and Lady Felicity were courting; although most of their time spent together would have been at banquets and feasts, where the Knight’s attention was more often than not focused on their entertainment and very little else. It was terribly improper to ask Sir Rowan for more information. Even as his friend, he would not push for information too intimate to share; certainly not while Rowan and Lady Felicity were still in the first, tentative steps of the most delicate of dances. 

He engaged Rowan in brief conversation, deeply aware of the moment he had managed to ruin. He wished him good luck - making him blush - then headed inside the armoury where he collected his sword.

He couldn't help but peer back as he left. Rowan, now alone, had taken the favour from his breastplate and was tugging it through his fingers. It appeared to be cream-coloured silk: a handkerchief or scarf, perhaps. Rowan's face had gone red.

Something tugged in the Knight's chest. It was a sweet, deeply romantic gesture. It would leave Rowan with no doubt at all about Lady Felicity’s intentions towards him. And, of course, it was furiously lucky: any man blessed with such a token would be sure to do well, especially from one they loved.

The tugging grew more urgent, joined by a leaden feeling in the Knights stomach. He would have no such token. Oh, he was sure that many members of the court would accept him should he attempt to woo them - courtly favours included - but it wasn't any of them he really wanted.

“I would rather spend my day following you around.”

The Knight’s face heated beneath the metal. His heart swelled. Whatever the Jester’s intentions towards him, his feelings were not the sort that spurred a man to give a love token. His were the feelings that spurred a quick fumble behind the stables - perhaps several quick fumbles, judging by the lewdness of the Jester’s tongue. It was no more than that.

Or, more likely, it was even less than that. The Knight was aware of the reputation he had carefully curated at court, and he knew that the Jester had taken him as a challenge. He was just another joke. The Jester had never even seen his face, hadn't seen the scars, didn't know the stories behind them.

He was just teasing.

The Knight tried to shake the thought from his head, fluttering the great plume that burst from the crown of his helm. Chasing such thoughts - be they of fumbles or fools - would get him unseated in the joust and begging for mercy in the duel.

He turned towards the stables, trudging down the muddy path. The earth had been turned by the sheer volume of guests and carts and horses, and was now a sucking, muddy mess. 

There was an oddly metallic clink beneath his boot. He paused. He lifted his foot. In the centre of a perfect footprint was a mud-splattered, but unmistakably golden, bell.

There was only one person who wore bells like that.

The Knight picked it up without thinking, desperately wishing he had something to clean it with. He rubbed off as much muck as he could with a fingertip, watching as it glinted in the light. As he turned it in his hand - terribly small against his huge palm - it jingled merrily.

He swallowed and closed his fingers around it, squeezing it tight.

The stables would wait. As a high-ranking man, he had been given a private tent on the edge of the grounds - somewhere he could clean and rest without traipsing through the castle to his chambers. He headed there, pulling the flaps tight shut behind him before unfurling his hand.

The bell had left a neat little indent in his palm. A curving, teasing smile embedded into his skin.

He placed it reverently on the wooden table at the far side of the tent before shooting a final, nervous glance towards the entry. And then he removed his helm.

The air felt cool and good against his burning cheeks. He shook out his hair, tied into a low queue to keep it out of his face, and stared down at the bell. It felt as if it were the only object in the room; perhaps the world.

Mindlessly, he took the cloth he used to tend his sword from the chest beside the table and gently began to clean the little golden thing. Mud had even managed to get inside the bell, and he carefully cleaned away as much as he could until it was shining and jingling once more.

He rolled it in his palm. It felt hot, like a tiny lump of coal, like a nugget of forge-warmed iron.

The Knight thought of Sir Rowan and Lady Felicity.

He would need luck, after all. Skill he had in abundance, but luck? Luck was harder to judge; a tip of the scales that, at present, could fall either way.

Of course, traditionally, a token needed to be a gift. But many Knights - both in tournaments and in battle - found luck where they could snatch it. A sword that had never slipped from their grasp, a tunic worn during a lucky win, a shield taken to war that deflected a killing blow. Perhaps a bell - so small and yet so weighty - could be like those. It was luck, after all, that helped him find it when so many people had stepped over it.

He turned back to the chest and searched through it until he found what he was looking for; the spare ties he kept on hand in case his snapped during the tournament. He typically used them to fasten his gauntlets, and while it was thin the leather was tough and sturdy: perfect for what he needed. Carefully, he threaded the bell onto the strap, ensured it wouldn’t slip off and then twisted the strap around the hilt of his sword, securing it tight.

The Knight gave the sword an experimental shake. The bell jingled against the hilt. He didn’t bother to suppress his smile: it wasn’t as if anyone could see him. The noise set a thrill through him. He would be the first to admit that he was not a musical man, but the ringing of the little bell felt like an angelic chorus just for him.

Besides, he thought, as he sheathed the sword once more: if it didn’t bring him luck, the noise may distract an opponent long enough for him to land a good hit.

He took a few moments to gather himself, taking a long drink of water from the jug atop the table, wiping down his face, and re-tying his hair before donning his helm once more. He pulled on his gloves, too, and now with his hand now gripped tight around the hilt of his sword, he exited the tent.

Outside, the noise was growing more urgent as more people gathered to watch the show. Now buoyed by the token hanging from his sword, he strode with pride towards the centre of the grounds where he intended to take part in the first single-combat duel of the day. It was likely still a little early, but no doubt he wouldn’t be the only one keen to begin and could at least find someone to spar against to pass the time.

He was dodging around a lad from the kennels and a pack of exuberant dogs when he heard a shout from behind.

“Knight! My Knight!”

He hastily shoved his sword behind his back as he turned, watching the Jester bounce across the field towards him. 

“I need your skills,” he said, as he slid smoothly to a halt beside him.

“Oh?” The Knight was glad for his helmet, now: the jester couldn’t see him blush.

“Have you seen a bell?” The Jester tugged at the frontmost horn of his cap, which was indeed bell-less. “I’m missing one.”

The Knight gripped his sword harder. He could feel the distinct shape of the bell through his gloves, praying it would not ring and give him away.

“No,” he said, his face so hot he was amazed his helm did not begin to steam, “I cannot say I have.”

“Oh.” The Jester gave him a crestfallen look that was so heartbreakingly sincere that for a moment, the Knight nearly relented. “I suppose it will turn up… or the King will fund me for another, I am sure.”

His eyes darted down, as if taking the Knight in for the first time. His expression turned dark. The Knight found himself standing a little straighter.

“And where are you off to, my chivalrous wonder? That’s—” he peered around the Knight’s back, “—an extremely long sword you have there.”

The Knight rolled his eyes, not that the Jester could see the gesture.

“You have realised,” he said, keeping his tone even, “where we are, yes?”

The Jester gave a dramatic twirl as if assessing his surroundings. “We are standing in the mud,” he grinned.

“Typically,” the Knight said, ignoring him, “A Knight takes part in a tournament. I intend to test my luck in the duel.”

“Luck?” The Jester said, “Not skill? Although—” he gave him another of those long looks, “—I suspect you have plenty of skill in swordplay.”

He gave the Knight a tight, cattish smile, his tongue wetting his lips as he waited for the Knight to respond. The Knight, once he had finally regained control of his lips, could only manage a single word.

“Quite.”

“Well,” the Jester grinned cockily. “I would surely love to see you in action. Lead on, good Sir Knight.”

The Jester looped his hand around his arm, gripping him tight. The Knight was utterly unable to resist, lost in a sudden moment of deep regret that he was so armoured, unable to feel that touch against his skin. 

Arm in arm they headed across the grounds towards the ring. The Jester joked and chatted and flirted as they walked, commenting again on that marvellously large blade, but the Knight could barely hear him over the rush of his own spinning thoughts.

He kept his free hand gripped on the sword, over the bell. The Jester couldn’t know.

The Jester finally released him as they reached the ring. Even though the touch had been to the plate steel of his armour and not the skin beneath, the Knight still missed having him hanging from his arm.

“You better win,” he said, stepping back. “There are a dozen other things I could be doing right now, and I refuse to tie my lot to a man who cannot even win a duel for me.”

The Knight’s heart stuttered in his chest. For me. The Jester was watching him, expectantly. And then his eyes widened, as if remembering something.

“Of course!” He said, face splitting into a grin. “You need a token. As you said, to give you luck enough to win. Ah— here…” he reached up, and before the Knight could stop him pulled another bell from his hat. “What’s another bell?” he said with a shrug. “I was lopsided anyway. Here…”

He produced a silk ribbon as if from nowhere, quickly looped it through the bell, and tied it with swift, dexterous fingers to the Knight’s belt.

“There,” he said. “I told you I was good with knots. Now you’ll win.”

The Jester stretched up on the tip of his bell-topped toes, placed a hand to the Kight’s shoulder for balance, and flicked his helmet’s plume with a single, long finger.

“Good luck.”

And with no warning at all, he placed a kiss to the warm metal of the Knight’s helm. Beneath, the Knight felt as if he could no longer breathe, his heart launching a battle of its own.

“I…” he said, gathering himself. “Thank you.”

The Jester gave him another grin, trailing a finger across the spot where his lips had been moments before.

“You’re welcome.”

***

The Jester leaned casually against a stack of crates, watching the Knight perform with genuine interest. The interest, of course, had very little to do with the fight itself - he wanted him to win, sure, but the minutiae of the fight were nothing compared to the strength of his arms, the broadness of his shoulders, or the exceptional noises he made when he struck a particularly good hit.

He fiddled mindlessly with one of the horns of his cap as he watched the Knight take another decisive swing. A hint of gold glinted through the air as he did, catching the light like a comet.

The Jester grinned to himself. No wonder his Knight was being so stiff as they walked towards the ring. What a sneaky little secret; not the sort he had come to expect from him. It was amusing, and quite sweet, too. Anyone would be lucky to have the Knight be their champion, to have him take their token. But the one he had chosen - the one he had taken for himself - was little more than a minstrel’s bell.

He was glad he had stumbled upon the thought to give him a token himself. Now the Knight would know that he would have given him one, had he asked, and even better: now he had twice the luck.

The Knight swung around again, the bell jingling, harmonising with the one the Jester himself had tied to his hip.

Thrice the luck, the Jester thought, if you counted the kiss.

The Knight ducked, dodged and lunged. The Jester watched, lips quirked into a smile.

When the Knight won - a feat which did not surprise the Jester at all - he straightened up, set his shoulders, and looked towards him.

And then his helm snapped down, taking in the hilt of his sword and the bell hanging from it. The Jester was almost surprised that he couldn’t see the Knight blush through his helmet.

The Jester too glanced downwards to the hilt of the sword. He let his gaze linger there. Then he dragged his eyes up, up the Knight’s body, over his chest, to the place where he desperately wished he could properly see his eyes.

He heaved himself away from the crates and waved. The Knight sagged, only a little. A small moment of recognition and relief. A spark of understanding, shared between them.

But the Jester could not stand there all day, no matter how much he wanted to. He shot the Knight another grin - his best grin, saved just for him - blew him a kiss, and swayed away towards the ale tent.

#fanfic #writing #my writing #oblivionsdream #knight/jester #this is what happens when you write a book about a tournament #it gets stuck in your head #and then you cant write about anything else

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

Be Yours (Knight AU) - Chapter Two

Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None that I can think of. Just language

Word Count: 2.7k+

Summary: The dread of not knowing your father’s burden comes crashes down. 

A/N: So the battle between my OC and ‘You’ has been fought. And ‘You’ won! Check out my ao3 for any more news about this story, and I did change my character Robert to Paz since I just realized the opportunity I could’ve seized. 

Chapter One

You found him by the back after the joust, where the castle’s stables were. Your own horse, and beautiful brown mare you named Henry, was next to his, picking at the hay below his feet. 

The lily sat idly by your ear, tangled in your locks. Secretly, you hoped the flower had come from Din, though—logically—you knew it couldn’t have come from him. 

He was gently cleaning his horse off, brushing it’s mane and cooing softly to it. The moment was too intimate and you would’ve turned around had he not caught you. 

“No matter where I turn, you are always right there, in my shadow.” He sighed. 

You smiled and looked down at your feet, careful of the pretty flower and lifting the hems of your dress to walk closer to your horse, stroking his nose.

Din watched you carefully, stiff and unyielding. You took no offense to it now. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lose,” you said. “Maybe one day you can teach me.”

“To fight?” Din scoffed, turning back to the white mare. “I didn’t think you to be the type.”

Now you were the one to scoff. “And why is that, hm? Because I am a woman? Women can fight too, you know.”

“I know. And I would never think that, Princess. It’s just…”

You waited patiently, keeping your attention on Henry so you wouldn’t scare him—the man in the heavy armor that is. 

“I do not think your father would appreciate it,” he finally answered. “This kingdom needs a queen, and—”

“Spare me,” you stopped him. “Just tell me the truth.”

Din sighed heavily again. He did that a lot.

“Your father… has made it known. It is too dangerous and he’d rather you stay away from the likes of war.”

You closed your eyes in frustration. Of course it would be your father. 

“It isn’t his business,” you snapped. “And I’ll have you know that I can do whatever the hell I please, so I don’t need my father’s permission to wield a sword, Knight.”

Din tilted his head, taken aback by your sudden outburst. Before you could make any sort of apology—like you were taught to—he stifled a chuckle. 

And it was so small but it radiated like a thousand suns. A thousand suns, blaring bright and proud in this little moment of serenity. You found herself smiling, chuckling and shaking your head at him. 

“Some days it’s hard to believe you’re a princess. You hardly act like it.” He noted. 

You giggled. “You’re not the first to inform me of this,” you said. “And soon enough it will be ‘Queen’.”

“I’m sure you will be a fine one.”

You blushed, turning your face away to cover it. But it quickly turned into a sigh, stepping away from your beloved horse. 

“I’m not sure that’s entirely what I want.”

It was the first time you said it to someone who wasn’t Jules. It slipped out hesitantly, but once the words left you felt better, lighter even. And you trusted Din, not only with your secrets but with your life as well. 

You saw him visibly tense from your peripheral vision. It confused you, but you guessed he was just looking out for you—as he never failed to do—making sure no wandering ears heard your declaration. 

Din cleared his throat, making you fully turn to him. He wasn’t looking at you, still trained on his horse, but he had stopped petting him and had a hunch to his form, like he was bearing more than just the weight of his attire. 

“I do not think it is wise to say such things so loudly.”

He said your name, and it made your stomach drop at the warning held behind it. 

“What —” You cleared your throat to swallow down the lump. “What are you not telling me, Din?”

Before he could say anymore, an echoed voice called out. 

“Of course,” Paz sneered. “The magnificent Din Djarin, the Princess’s little bitch, playing idly while —”

He stopped when he saw you. You smirked inwardly when you saw the way his body stiffened, like he had just been struck by a sword, and imagined he looked just as horrified as he felt. 

“P-princess.” The appointer stuttered. “My apologies, m'lady. I did not realize you were here.”

“Clearly.” You spat out, chin tilted up. “But please, don’t stop at my expense. Finish what you were going to say.”

Paz was becoming uncomfortable and you reveled in it. Din, however, just seemed as though he wanted the whole thing done and over with so he could move on with his day; you didn’t blame him. 

“Go.” You finally ordered. “And do not speak to my guard that way again. Perhaps your silence is more of use to me than your sword.”

He stammered, clearly embarrassed, and prodded away with careful steps. 

You and Din relaxed at the same moment, but now without a word to say to each other. The silence, although, was quite comfortable between you and it felt nice, being able to share it with someone. You suspected Din must have felt the same way, or least appreciated your understanding of his silent personality. 

“What is the deal between the two of you?” You broke the silence. 

He grunted softly, giving you a small, careless shrug. “Childish rivarily, one that I do not particularly care for.”

You hummed, picking at a tiny piece of string of the seam of your gown. “Well, if he continues on, be sure to tell me.”

The armor creaked, background noise to you at that point, as he fully turned towards you, arms hanging like boards at his sides. 

“I can take care of it.” It wasn’t threatening, nor frustrated; just a simple fact. 

“I know.”

He was going to say something else. Your ears perked for it, but another voice—lest wasn’t Paz—tried to entice the void. 

“Princess!” Jules called out. “You're needed by your father at once, the food is ready to be served.”

You grimaced. Your father had terrible timing. 

“Okay.” You murmured, not even sure if she would be able to hear you. 

“Are you going to eat as well?” You asked Din. 

Din shuffled on his feet. “Not yet. Have duties to attend to.”

You smiled softly. “Well, for my sake Din, try the new sauce. I think you’ll like it.”

He gave you a small bow with the tilt of his head as you walked by, brushing against him as you did. You only walked just a short way before stopping, turning your head. 

“May I ask you a question?”

He nodded.

“Don’t suppose you know the kind person who gifted me this flower?” You asked lightly, giving yourself a mental pat at the ability to hide the shyness from your voice. “It was left on my seat before the joust, and I would like to give them a proper thanks.”

“I’m afraid not.” He put out quickly. 

Your excited heart sank, but your expression remained neutral.

“Shame,” you whispered. “Such a lovely flower.”

You walked further away without another glance. You weren’t trying to be rude, you really weren’t, but you didn’t think you had it in you to hide your disappointment; you hated the fact that you had more of a difficult time with Din than anyone else. 

Jules did not say anything as she walked by your side. You were grateful for that; your thoughts too scrambled to form a conversation. 

Why are you so disappointed? You had to have known the flower wasn’t from him. You knew it was dangerous to exploit your dislike of being tied down to the royal rule. You—

It continued on and you wanted to scream.   

Maybe you should, let the whole damn world hear you stupid scream over a silly little crush. 

You were seated by the time you crawled out of your thoughts. Your father made a face at you, wondering with his eyes of the mood you were currently in. You just gave him a one sided shrug and a forced smile. 

The food was delicious. That was something—even lost in your own head—couldn’t deny nor ignore. Especially when you caught eyes with Peter, smiling with glee at the reactions to his sacred art. 

“This is exquisite!” Your father exclaimed, just loudly enough so Peter could hear as well. 

“It is.” You agreed. “We’ll have to have more of it.”

Your father's words blurred into the background again, and you shoved a mouthful of pudding into your mouth when you looked up and spotted him. 

Oh Lord. What is he doing here?

Gerald was part of Colestead’s line of fearless Knights, one that used to remind you of that of a wolf when you watched the rare and few times he participated in any fight of entertainment. 

But despite his ruthless combat skills, it didn’t show in the way he spoke—all soft, kind natured, at least towards you. 

And his presence here, as he leaned towards Din, who had just walked through the threshold of your hall, brought you back to the ship you saw earlier and your father’s words echoed in your head. Your chest tightened as the anxiety—unknown and abrupt to you, the sudden fear behind it that made the room spin—clawed at you.     

“Nothing for you to worry about.”

Do not cause a scene. Do not do anything stupid.

You took a deep breath as you tried to calm yourself. Bringham must have noticed your stance, because he followed your sight until he stiffened. It went away as soon as it appeared, and he took a big swig from his cup. 

“I’m not going to say a word about it.” You assured lowly and quickly. 

He exhaled deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring slightly. But he looked on solemn towards his people, and turned his head to you with understanding in his eyes. 

“You will know. I’ve promised you this before, and have every intention of keeping to it, love.”

You gave him a tired smile and his shoulder a playful pat. You forced your eyes to stay ahead or to the left, but never to the right where that man stood. If you wanted to make it through the last of the festivities without a trick, then you had to do anything to keep your mind distracted. 

Which is why you called Victoria, a pretty young girl around your age, to your seat with a wide smile. 

Victoria was a very beautiful woman; strawberry blonde hair, just slightly longer than yours, hazel eyes and a wicked curve to her grin. It certainly matched her soul. 

Now you never really liked her as a friend, but there were moments where you could hold a decent conversation without wanting to tear her head off. You prayed this would be one of them.

And she happened to be the daughter of your father’s precious friend. 

“Oh,” she said your name, sweetlike. “Such a beautiful day to celebrate! And where is that lovely maiden of yours?”

Jules did not like her either. You wouldn’t put her through that, and besides, you had no idea on where your friend could be; she soon disappeared just shortly after you were seated. 

“Not sure I’m afraid.” You clicked. “But I’ll tell her you said hi.”

Jules would get a kick out of it. 

She hummed, then looked over to that dreadful right, making your eyes twitched. 

“Between you and I,” she said before leaning down to whisper, “I like the White Knight.”

Din. Of course. 

“You are aware that’s my guard you’re talking about.” You grumbled. 

She giggled. “What do you think I’m going to do, Princess? Seduce your little knight away? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Ridiculous? Perhaps. But more likely to be tried? Positively. 

“You’re right. So silly of me.”

Bringham suddenly stood up, clearing his throat and tapping on his mug with a silver spoon. The crowd started to silence themselves as their king awaited patiently, and Victoria gave you a sly wink before slinking back to her seat. 

“Riverhearth has never looked as lively as it does now!” 

There were cheers echoed across the hall, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread your cheeks.

“Enjoy this feast… this moment now. Remember the happy faces and tears of joy you see around yourselves tonight, and keep a tight hold on them, so that they may never fall into darkness.”

They continued to cheer, mouthing praises and going back to their meals as their king, your father, sat down. 

Your father, whose eyes looked more aged than they did that morning. Who looked so much older than he should, holding the weight of whatever secret he was withholding from you. 

And that blood on your fingers, remember those?

The rest of the feast went by quickly afterwards. You were quick to send hugs and waves as everyone settled off to their homes. Bringham escorted you to your room himself, yapping away about fairy tales as you listened; he was drunk again. Perfect for you. 

You waited until midnight hit, and everything was quiet. You put on a small coat and very slowly creaked your bedroom door open, sticking your head out to make sure there were no one around. 

The tiptoes around the halls made you think back to that night, and how quiet he was too to sneak up on you like that. Maybe you were too drunk to notice at the time, but either way there appeared to be no guard in sight. 

“Princess.”

You spoke too soon. 

With a roll of your eyes you turned around to face Din, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Knight.”

“Not surprised to see you about at this time. Again.”

You stifled a smile at the slight irritation in his voice. “Yes. And are you going to drag me back to my room? Again.”

He huffed, shaking his head as he stalked towards you. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I have no quarrels with either.”

Your hard, tough stance faltered and he caught it. “I—.”

“What’s the problem with me wandering around my own home.” You interjected. “And besides, I have… important matters to attend to.”

You berrated yourself for not coming up with a better ploy, but it was too late to take back and Din was still walking towards you. 

“Please.” You pleaded quietly. “Please just let me—I just want to—I saw him talking to you.”

His heavy puff told you that he knew exactly who you were talking about. You prepared yourself for another argument. The seconds, possibly even minutes that passed by fed into the clawing in your chest, the hard grasp to your heart. You closed your eyes and counted your breaths as you slowly inhaled and exhaled. 

“You will not speak of this to anyone. Not even Jules. Do you understand?”

He caught you off guard. Your arms fell loosely by your sides, your expression falling and the rest of your wait breath escaping you with a puff. 

“Okay.” You nodded eagerly. “I promise.”

Din hovered his arm over your shoulder, leading you back to your room. 

“What—.”

“Not out here.” He shushed. 

You walked the rest of the way with another held breath, and you refused to release it until you heard your bedroom door close behind him. 

“There have been… rumors,” Din started. “Wars. Death. Magic even. There are—there is something coming, and Bringham—he’s enlisting Colestead’s aid in the matter, before we’re left defenseless.”

Sit. You have to sit down. 

You padded around behind you until you felt the wood of your headboard against your skin, and sat down on the edge of your bed. 

“Okay.” You whispered. “So—so that means—.”

You weren’t stupid. You were on good terms with Colestead, no problem at all with aid, but you weren’t stupid. You knew what this entitled, or what it could. 

“Yes.” Din confirmed, apologetically even. “James will arrive tomorrow at noon. And they’re—there’s—”

You held up a hand, effectively silencing him. He couldn’t say it, not wanting to push you further over the cliff you were dangerously hanging low from. 

You already knew. 

Tags: @scarlett-berserker​, @justlovetoreadfics​, @lil-baby27​, @mando-vibes​, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch​, @im-the-music-whore​, @certifiedhunter​, @softpedropascal​​, @hejahockey​, @okaydacre​, @lemongrove​, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony​, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd​, @elusive-ivory​, @dizzydazed​, @bluejeancntrygrl​, @dadzawas-eyebags​, @moonstruck-witchy, @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi​, @evalynanne​, @purplewaterbird​, @vikingqueen28​, @tedpicklez​, @pascalisthepunkest​, @coffeeandtodd​, @blunt-cake-yes​, @agoldin​, @ben-is-a-hoe​, @snokesthrussy, @lustriix​, @readsalot73​, @longitud-de-onda​, @weirdowithnobeardo​, @hayley-the-comet​, @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​, @kateb013​, @blue-tidal-wave​, @eupphoriaaa​, @imalovenotahater​, @forever-rogue​, @fioccodineveautunnale​​, @lizajane3​, @everything-lost-and-unsaid​, @hoodedbirdie​, @drunkenliterary, @dlmafa1, @fioccodineveautunnale​​

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian au #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #be yours #alternate universe

[kevindayprotectionsquad]

Demons

A look into Jack’s (my oc) mind, based pretty heavily on my experience with my mental health. This is not meant to be a glamorization of mental illness, butsimply a way for me to project how I personally feel. Writing has always been an outlet for me (as with many people), and I prefer to write fiction so this is the product. I love sharing my writing my characters and my writing with the world, but this is a new style for me, but I think I like it and I hope y’all do too :)

Jack wasn’t always like this, unable to function like people expected him to for days at a time. Unable to function like he wanted to for weeks at a time. No, growing up he was quite the opposite. His parents described him as a handful when they were trying to be polite, and as a hellion when behind closed doors. The castle servants called him disobedient and a menace. None of it bothered him, in fact he thrived on being the menace prince. All the punishments he got for tormenting his younger sister, or sneaking out to play privateers with Matthew in the woods behind the castle without telling anyone first all validated him. Prince life was mind numbingly dull to his young mind, and he couldn’t just sit and let all the fun skip past him.

Young restlessness turned into teenage recklessness. Living life on the edge wasn’t enough anymore, and Jack looked for trouble where ever he could find it. After a night consisting of stolen wine, Matthew, and a few destroyed statues, his father sat him down to deliver a grueling lecture about not taking his responsibilities as prince seriously and how actions have consequences, and his consequence was increased security to ensure he took his duties seriously.

It was a game at first, seeing how much it would take to annoy his guards, or how long it would take to make his father upset with the lack of work he was doing. During royal family meetings, he would joke around, leaving Skylar to pick up his slack just to keep the peace. It didn’t bother him, his sister had actual interest in running the kingdom.

Jack wasn’t sure where his interested laid.

He laid awake the night after a meeting, pondering what he wanted in his life. He knew being king was out of the question. Being prince barely interested him. Yet, he couldn’t come up with a single interest, hobby, or passion. That moment he felt something awaken inside him, and it wasn’t necessarily good.

He spent days locked in his room, questioning everything about himself, and ignoring the world around him until he couldn’t think of anything else. Then he spent days thinking of absolutely nothing. The only thing he could bring himself to do was stare at the ceiling and count the bricks over and over. His body ached and his eyes burned, and yet it was impossible to simply roll out of bed and stretch. Matthew had come to check on him after the second day of pondering, but Jack had ignored him along with the rest of the world. Despite that, Matthew had come to his room everyday, trying to talk and find out what was wrong. On the fifth day, Jack finally let him in. He had started to feel a little more like himself that morning, and hoped Matthew wasn’t too upset.

Matthew was upset, which caught Jack off guard. Matthew came in ready with a speech about how messed up it was of Jack to just ignore him for days, and how angry he was with him. Jack didn’t know if was Matthew’s raised voice, or the simple fact he was upset with him, but it was suddenly all too much. He felt the burning of tears forming behind his eyes, and spilling over before he could stop them. They stopped Matthew mid rant. Jack was never a crier. That was the first time anyone had asked him what was wrong and meant it. If only Jack knew.

When he was feeling himself again, Jack knew he never wanted to feel like that, or make Matthew feel like that again. Matthew had suggested finding a hobby. When they were young boys, their favorite time of the year was tournament season, especially getting to watch the jousting. So, Jack decided to take up jousting. The knights were skeptical to help him at first, but he threw everything he had into learning the ways. Training soon took up the majority of his schedule, and he loved every minute of it.

But hobbies can’t keep demons quiet forever. This time it started as a creeping feeling. Jack didn’t know it at the time, he just thought he’d lost interest jousting. It was a hobby after all, and people lose interest in hobbies all the time right? Matthew couldn’t understand how he could just drop months and months of hard work, and inquired about it.

“It just doesn’t make me excited anymore,” Jack explained, because it didn’t. Nothing did.

And he was back to questioning his whole existence. This time, his mind and body felt completely detached from each other. Like they were on two different dementions, and he was looking down at both. He was no longer in control. His mind still had his thoughts telling him to get up and do anything, but something else was in control.

Matthew still didn’t understand, and was upset being ignored again for days while Jack suffered in silence. Jack had let him in once he was feeling closer to his normal self again, and sat together in bed.

“You’re worry me, Jack,” Matthew admitted after a long bout of silence.

Jack couldn’t bring himself to look at him. He worried himself too. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he confessed.

“This isn’t the Jack I know,” Matthew whispered. “The Jack I know is so free willed it’s almost annoying, and is always busy causing some kind of trouble. I’ve never seen you lay around without the intention of sleeping. And now that’s all you do.”

That’s the Jack he knew himself as too, and he wished he knew how to get him back. “I’m not allowed to cause trouble anymore, remember?” He said bitterly. “I have to be a prince.”

“Then why are you hiding?” Matthew questioned him for answers he didn’t have.

It was a struggle to find words that made sense. He couldn’t expect him to understand the feeling of being totally separated from his mind and body, watching his world fall apart. “I don’t know, Matthew, lately it feels like being drunk. For awhile, I feel like I can do anything, then I start to crash. Things don’t feel right at first, but I can ignore it and still be myself, but it creeps up and then it’s like I’m not in control anymore. I know I should be doing things, but I can’t force myself to.”

Matthew only nodded, and the was the last they talked of it like that. He noticed Matthew watching him closely when they were together, trying to observe the subtle changes. If he noticed anything off at all he would check in with how Jack was feeling. Jack was grateful he didn’t hate him, and even more grateful for the support.

His family on the other hand, offered no understanding. He got lecture after lecture from his father telling him the kingdom comes first over silly feelings, and he needed to stop being so disconnected from reality. He was never good enough for his father.

His mother tried bargaining with him, telling him he could do this or have that if he just did what his father asked him to. Jack tried to explain to her the way he felt like he had with Matthew, only to be told to get over himself, and everyone feels that ways.

Skylar had come to him late one night, saying she over heard their parents talking about him, and what he had told his mother about how he felt. Jack watched her as tears fell from her cheek when she explained to him she feels the same way sometimes, but their mother forces her to ignore her feelings. She didn’t understand how he could just ignore their parents. Jack knew though, she cared about their opinion of her, while he did not. He didn’t tell her that, instead, he hugged his sister for the first time in a long time. When did she stop being his annoying little sister?

Over the years, the demons get stonger, and for a while that really damaged Jack, but Matthew and Skylar reminded patient with him. At some point, Jack got stronger too, he started to be able to identify when the demons were coming out of hibernation, when they were at their strongest, and when they were starting to go back into their slumber. Being able to tell what was happening, helped him regain some control over himself. The demons may pilot his mind, but he still gets a say in their destination. That doesn’t mean they always listen, and those days are the scariest. He’s had a few close calls, but by some miracle he’s still here. Demons and all.

#im not sure if i like this style lol #also tenses?? idk those lol?? #idk if this even reads well #i had a mini breakdown and decided to write #jack is my self projection character so usually gets to feel what i feel lol #i hope this is like a more accurate discription of his personality than in the oc tag lol #pls interact with this!! you wont offend me!! #i want to know yalls thoughts! #this is my first time really sharing something like this so let me know what yall think!! #jack rowe #oc tag

[red-wardens]

About the Character: Helios Adaar

Tagged by: 3 people so I’ll do separate ones :) first one is for @astraielle ‘s tag, thank you! I’ll probably do Akono Hawke and Blue Surana next.

Tagging: @jennserr @chillyrose @jaffa-keksi @space-vashoth @dickeybbqpit @nordxz @occorner @biserker-kadan and tagging back: @mocha-writes and @heraldofwho (in case they want an excuse to do this for another one of their OC’s <3)

-----------

― your muse’s name:

Helios Adaar

―  a favorite picture / faceclaim of your muse:

― two headcannons you have for your muse:

Helios was raised by human parents on the outskirts of Tantervale and like many young Marchers, had big childhood dreams of one day competing in the Grand Tourney. He and his adopted parents bred and sold the horses noblemen and common folk alike bought to compete in the racing and jousting portions so Helios grew up meeting a lot of big contenders. Of course, very few of them were willing to take on a qunari as a squire no matter how bright-eyed, friendly, and strong the kid was. Helios eventually gave up on the dream in his teen years when his magic manifested, but he still likes to talk about the Tourney and past victors with fellow proud Marchers like Varric and Blackwall. 

In Modern AU he still grew up a farm boy/horse rancher, and still liked to race horses recreationally growing up, but was more into go-kart racing and eventually race-car racing. I doubt he would have the focus and willingness to make big commitments to reach Formula 1 level, but at least eventually makes it to Formula 2. When it’s not racing season he’s on-and-off in college because he promised his folks he’d graduate but he keeps changing his major so it’s taking kind of long.

― three things that your muse likes doing in their free time:

Racing. You’ll often find him at Master Dennet’s farm racing Dennet’s daughter Seanna and a handful of Inquisition soldiers/agents who dare to challenge them. There’s not enough open room in or around Skyhold to set up any race tracks there but he’s set up a couple around the strongholds captured on other maps like Griffon Wing Keep in the Western Approach. A bit of a morale booster for the troops stationed there.

Fishing. When things get too hectic, his old man taught him to just take a step back and clear your mind with some fishing. He and Blackwall or Varric (or both) will “borrow” an Inquisition boat and find a lake or shore somewhere to just chill and share a few drinks while fishing all day. They even take Cole a couple times to teach him, though he didn’t really see the point of it. When they get back, Helios and Blackwall always fry up whatever they’ve caught and share it with visitors to Skyhold, women and children first. 

Working Out. He’s no warrior himself but he’ll do physical training with the Inquisition soldiers. Running laps, pushups, a little sparring, anything that gets his heart beating fast and muscles straining. It’s cathartic, helps focus his extra energy, and relaxes him so he can sleep well at night. The toned muscles are an aesthetic side benefit that he won't pretend he doesn’t enjoy. Plus, like Bull mentioned to him, it helps soldiers when they know who they’re fighting for and Helios definitely jokes around with them and will share a drink after training. 

― seven people your muse loves / likes: 

in no particular oder: His Mama, His Pop, Cassandra, Varric, Blackwall, Cole, Leliana

I haven’t finished his game yet, so his top 7 may change, but so far it’s looking like that’s his list. His parents are so, so important to him. I also headcanon he and his world state’s Akono Hawke become good bros over time. He’s also good friends with a couple of his exes, one in Antiva and one in Starkhaven, and they write often but they don’t make the Top 7. 

― a phobia your muse has:

No phobias, he’s a pretty brave dude. Not a lot scares him, though some of it probably should. Spirits and demons are cool to him, either something to appreciate from a distance or something to fight. Heights and storms and large beasts are exciting, he’s great at public speaking and loves a crowd, and he’s a necromancer so death is a friend of his. If he absolutely had to choose something, he might say he doesn’t care much for snakes, but it’s more of a dislike than a fear and not strong enough to be a phobia. 

#helios adaar #my oc #my inquisitor #inquisitor adaar #dragon age inquistion #I realized all of his hobbies involve other people #he's not big on 'alone time' #like he can handle it without getting sad but he's definitely a socialite

[find-your-rp-partner]

Care to Roleplay? :3

Greetings! All those wonderful people who have taken the time to read my role-play request. It is an absolute honour to be here and introduce myself as one of the keen lovers of a very distinctive hobby we all have grown to love - Roleplaying. 

Feel free to call me Avari (which happens to be my very absurd internet alias). I am an eighteen year old college student, studying pre-med from the all too notorious university of Cambridge. Yes, I’m British and no, I haven’t met the Queen….yet. I am an absolute lover of dogs since I have like three myself and I hate the winter reason...ugh I can already feel my fingers freeze as I type...

Cravings!

Naruto Next Generation RP: Boruto

Absolutely no idea why I have a craving of this but god damn it, Kishi! (⊙.⊙(◉̃_᷅◉)⊙.⊙) I cannot get over how adorable the new characters are! I just have to...I have to role-play this one way or the other!

Love Interest(s): Boruto Uzumaki, Sarada Uchiha, Adult Naruto Uzumaki, Adult Hinata Uzumaki

Original Role-plays

If you have any original idea, and I mean ANY original idea, please contact me! I have been craving an original role-play for so long that my hunger has finally come to surface. I have a few ideas of my own which I would only share if you contact me! 💪 (`▿´) 👊

Free! Iwatobi Swim Club

Do I even have to say anything about this? Hot guys in tight swim suits is my sort of aesthetic ( ◡́.◡̀)\(^◡^ )

Love Interest(s): Haruka Nanase, Makoto Tachibana, Gou Matsuoka

Mystic Messenger

I LIVE FOR THIS M*THER F*CKING GAME

Love Interest(s): Jumin Han, Jaehee kang

  Length and Literacy ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ

I love to write and, admittedly, I get carried away from time to time. Other times, I may suffer writer’s block and be rendered unable to reply because nothing will come to me. I hate to be that person, but I am going to put a minimum requirement. The minimum amount I will accept is 400 words per side. I usually write between 600 and 1,000 words per side, so I believe that’s at least fair. With literacy, try your hardest; that’s all I ask of you. I am very lenient when it comes to length because a person can write a whole novel and I would be sitting in the corner of my bedroom with my laptop and a bowl of popcorns to enjoy the whole work of art, yes writing is art for me. Or they could send me one paragraph which is good sized and I would be as quick as lightening to send one back so both novella and one paragraph have their perks. But I would never accept one-liners since they tend to ruin the flow of the roleplay. 

Leaving ≧◠‿●‿◠≦

If you’re going to drop me while discussing plots or immediately after starting, I request that you don’t message me at all. It happens far too often and has become more of a pain than anything else. If you don’t like my writing style or what I have in mind for my side of the roleplay, that’s all you have to say. 

Limits (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)👌

Not a lot I’m uncomfortable with in the scheme of things. I won’t tell you, “No, I won’t do that.” Odds are, I’ll probably do it. I have absoutely no limits except for the ones mentioned below because God knows what goes inside this dirty mind of mine.

*Gets bitch slap by God* O-Okay...let’s move on...

The only limits I have are:

✕ Pedophilia (Grown Adult x Anyone Under 16) ✕ Bestiality

✕ Your OC x My OC

Reply Time ☜(ˆ▿ˆc)

It may take me five minutes to reply, or it may take me five days. It all depends on my workload, how many roleplays I have going on, and whether or not I have writer’s block. Messaging me twice a day to see if I’m going to reply isn’t going to make it come faster. Because I’m an asshole, messaging me twice a day to see where the reply is will move our roleplay to the bottom of the list. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Just be nice and give me a decent amount of time to reply; I’ll let you know if something came up and is preventing me from replying for longer than five days. I am honestly looking for someone who can reply around the clock because I would delete a threat of the person has not replied for like, two - three weeks and I might send a couple of emails if I have not heard from you in a week. I can reply within a day, or two at maximum but maybe that’s because I have no life ._. (Lying!) Please reply on time and I would be a happy partner :3

OOC Chatting (─‿‿─)

Contrary to how my rules may make me out to be, I love talking to my partners! If you want to chat about something you’re really excited about or vent because you’re having a bad day, by all means, I’m all ears! I won’t tell you to leave me alone. 

Writing Sample!

Looking up at the giant who loomed above her, she felt very small and fragile. Oddly, she also felt safe. Safer than she had felt in three years. Loosening her grip on his hands, she raised her own hand and touched her fingers to a cut on his chin. "You've been hurt, too," she said, smiling shyly at him.

Jordan caught his breath at the unexpected glamour of the lad's glowing smile and froze in amazement when he felt an odd, inner tingle from the boy's touch. A boy's touch. Brusquely shaking off the small hand, he wondered grimly if his boredom with life's ordinary diversions was turning him into some sort of perverted dilettante. "You haven't yet told me your name," he said, his tone deliberately cool as he began exploring the boy's lower rib cage, watching his small face for any sign of pain.

Alexandra opened her mouth to give her name, but gave a shriek of outraged panic instead when he suddenly slid his hands onto her breasts.

Jordan jerked his hands away as if they'd been scorched. "You're a girl!"

"I can't help it!" Alexandra flung back, stung by the sharp accusation in his voice.

The absurdity of their exchanged words struck them both at the same time: Jordan's black scowl gave way to a sudden grin and Alexandra started to laugh. And that was how Mrs. Tilson, the innkeeper's wife, found them—both on the bed, laughing, the man's hands arrested a few inches above Miss Alexandra Lawrence's gaping shirt and bosom.

"Alexandra Lawrence!" she exploded, barging into the room like a battleship under full sail, sparks shooting from her eyes as they leveled on the man's hands above Alexandra's open shirt. "What is the meaning of this!"

Alexandra was blessedly oblivious to the portent of what Mrs. Tilson was seeing and thinking, but Jordan was not, and he found it nauseating that this woman's evil mind could apparently accuse a young girl of no more than thirteen years of collaborating in her own moral demise. His features hardened and there was a distinct frost in his clipped, authoritative voice. "Miss Lawrence was hurt in an accident just south of here on the road. Send for a physician."

"No, do not, Mrs. Tilson," Alexandra said and lurched into a sitting position despite her swimming senses. "I'm perfectly well and wish to go home."

Jordan spoke to the suspicious woman in a curt, commanding voice. "In that case, I'll take her home, and you can direct the physician to the bend in the road a few miles south of here. There, he'll find two thugs who are beyond needing his skill, but he can ensure they're properly disposed of." Reaching into his pocket, Jordan withdrew a card with his name engraved on it beneath a small gold crest. "I'll return here to answer any questions he may have, once I've taken Miss Lawrence to her family."

Mrs. Tilson muttered something scathing under her breath about bandits and debauchery, snatched the card from his hand, glowered at Alexandra's unbuttoned shirt, and marched out.

"You seemed surprised—about my being a girl, I mean," Alexandra ventured uncertainly. 

"Frankly, this has been a night of surprises," Jordan replied, dismissing Mrs. Tilson from his mind and turning his attention to Alexandra. "Would I be prying if I were to ask you what you were doing rigged out in that suit of armor?"

Alexandra slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand. The room swayed. "I can walk," she protested when the man reached out to lift her into his arms.

"But I'd prefer to carry you," Jordan said firmly and did exactly that. Alexandra smiled inwardly at the blithe way he stalked through the common room, serenely indifferent to the staring villagers, carrying in his arms a disheveled, dusty girl clad in breeches and shirtsleeves.

Once he had set her gently onto the deep, luxurious squabs of his coach and settled in across from her, however, her amusement vanished. Soon, she realized, they would pass by the gruesome scene she'd partially caused. "I took a man's life," she said in a tortured whisper as the coach headed toward the dreaded bend. "I will never forgive myself."

"I would never forgive you if you hadn't," Jordan said with a teasing smile in his voice. In the glow of the lighted coach lamps, huge aqua eyes brimming with tears lifted to his face, searching if, silently beseeching him for more comfort, and Jordan responded automatically. Reaching forward, he lifted her off the seat and onto his lap, cradling her in his arms like the distraught child she was. "It was a very brave thing you did," he murmured into the soft, dusky curls that brushed his cheek.

Alexandra drew in a shuddering breath and shook her head, unknowingly rubbing her cheek against his chest "I wasn't brave, I was simply too frightened to run away like a sensible person."

Holding the trusting child in his arms, Jordan was startled by the unprecedented thought that he might like to have a child of his own to hold someday. There was something profoundly touching about the way this little girl was snuggled against him, trusting him. Remembering that fetching little girls inevitably become spoiled young women, he promptly discarded the notion. "Why were you wearing that old suit of armor?" he asked for the second time that night

Alexandra explained about the jousts, which were a ritual whenever one of the O'Toole children had a birthday, then she made him repeatedly laugh aloud by describing some of her foibles and triumphs during today's lists.

"Don't people outside of Morsham have jousts and such? I always assumed people were the same everywhere, although I don't know it for certain, since I've never been beyond Morsham. I doubt if I ever will."

Jordan was shocked into momentary silence. In his own wide circle of acquaintances, everyone traveled everywhere, and often. It was hard to accept that this bright child would never see any place beyond this godforsaken tiny village on the edge of nowhere. He glanced down at her shadowy face and found her watching him with friendly interest, rather than the deferential awe he was accustomed to. Inwardly he grinned at the image of uninhibited peasant children throwing themselves into jousts. How different their childhood must be from that of the children of the nobility. Like himself, they were all raised by governesses, ruled by tutors, admonished to be clean and neat at all times, and constantly reminded to act like the superior beings they were born to be. Perhaps children who grew up in remote places like this were better and different—guileless and courageous and unaffected, as Alexandra was. Based on the life Alexandra described to him, he wondered if perhaps peasant children were the lucky ones, after all. Peasant children? It dawned on him that there was nothing of the rough peasant in this child's cultured speech.

Farewell?

Ah, it seems that I am all out of food! （ つ︣﹏╰） But the request has come to an end and I shall see you next time, in my inbox! Oh wait, I forgot to mention a few things…

When contacting me, make sure to type ‘Hella kawaii’ in your subject line so that I know you’ve read the request thoroughly. Also, here is my email!

[email protected]

#rp partner search #rp partner ad #rp ad #rp search #original #anime #email #googledocs #submission

[cartroomsanaheim-blog]

9 Things to do in Anaheim with kids

Living in Anaheim, I've spent a lot of time researching every nook and cranny of this popular city. My knowledge goes far beyond Disney! If you are visiting Anaheim (or presently planning a visit), chances are that you'll be checking out a Disney Park or two while you're here. That is great! However, I wish to let you in on a little secret... There are sooo many things to do nearby Anaheim with children (besides Disney), that you may want to plan a few added times to truly get the most of your household trip to sunny Southern California. So to help ensure that your visit to my hometown genuinely stones, I'll share with you some of the hottest things to do in Anaheim and the surrounding region with kids of all ages. 1. Knott's Berry Farm Read more: - Mu Snapback - Mu Luoi Trai Dep - Anaheim Rooms - Mu Luoi Trai - Do Go Tan Phat Knott's Berry Farm is a 57-acre amusement park in Buena Park with a cool history. Dating back to the 1920's as a roadside attraction where Walter Knott marketed his famous boysenberry solutions. He had a passion for California history he added a replica ghost town and the park continued to develop into what it has become today. 2. Medieval Times Medieval Times in Buena Park, is like stepping back into a time when knights were heroes, testing their strength, endurance and coordination in front of a cheering crowd. Families get to float on a four-course medieval-style meal as they root for their delegated knight within this two-hour tournament as he assesses his might in jousting, swordsmanship, falconry, horsemanship and much more. 3. Discovery Cube & Science Center 2500 N. Main Street, Santa Ana, CA 92705 Discovery Cube Orange County is a hands-on science education center which helps children with STEM proficiency, early learning, healthy living and environmental stewardship through interactive displays. 4. Pretend City Children's Museum Pretend City Children's Museum is an interactive museum which resembles a child-size town where kids can presume real-world roles while exploring what it means to be part of a community. 5. Adventure City 1238 S Beach Blvd, Anaheim, CA 92804 Adventure Town in Anaheim is a small amusement park aimed at large fun for families, complete with rides, petting zoo and family dance parties. In my view, this park best suited for younger children (not teens). 6. Orange County Fair 88 Fair Drive, Costa Mesa, CA 92626 OC Fair runs through the summer months starting mid-July and extends until mid-August. The fair features exciting exhibits, animals, concerts, food vendors, rides and more. After the fair is not in town, the OC fairgrounds are used for the OC Marketplace where you can still enjoy buying, food and live music. 7. Orange County Beaches There are some great Orange County beaches near Anaheim, like Laguna Beach, a coastal resort city made famous to mass public thanks to different tv shows. Then there's Newport Beach, a lux beachside town the most known for the Newport Harbor, Balboa Fun Zone and Balboa Island. Huntington Beach is California's cool Surf City and residence US Open of Surfing every summer. However, the first California surf town award goes to Dana Point, a casual yet sophisticated seaside town that is packed with adventure. For more information about planning a trip to those Orange County Beaches close to Anaheim. 8. Aquarium of the Pacific 100 Aquarium Way, Long Beach, CA 90802 The Aquarium of the Pacific is a huge public aquarium located on Rainbow Harbor in Long Beach.The aquarium has over 11,000 creatures on screen throughout the various displays including sharks, penguins and sea otters. 9. Angel Stadium of Anaheim 2000 E Gene Autry Way, Anaheim, CA 92806-6143 The atmosphere is always fun for the kids and the Angels' Arena really caters to families with a family center with matches, fireworks on Friday and Saturday nights and even a mini-firework screen when our boys hit a home run. Go Angels!

#anaheim hotels #anaheim #disneyland #disneyland rooms #anaheim rooms #rooms anaheim #rooms

[beltanaheimrooms-blog]

9 Best Things to do in Anaheim with kids

Living in Anaheim, I have spent a lot of time researching every nook and cranny of the popular city. My knowledge goes way beyond Disney! If you're visiting Anaheim (or currently planning a visit), odds are that you'll be checking out a Disney Park or 2 while you are here. That is fantastic! However, I wish to let you in on a little secret... There are sooo many things to do nearby Anaheim with children (besides Disney), you might want to plan several extra days to really get the most of your household trip to sunny Southern California. No, seriously! So to help ensure your trip to my hometown genuinely stones, I'll share with you some of the latest things to do in Anaheim and the surrounding region with children of all ages. 1. Knott's Berry Farm Related posts: - Mu Luoi Trai - Noi That Van Phong - Non Snapback - Disneyland Anaheim - Mu Dep Knott's Berry Farm is a 57-acre entertainment park in Buena Park having a cool history. Dating back to the 1920's as a roadside attraction where Walter Knott sold his famous boysenberry solutions. He had a love for California history that he included a replica ghost city and the park continued to develop into what it is today. 2. Medieval Times 7662 Beach Boulevard, Buena Park, California, 90620 Medieval Times in Buena Park, is like stepping back to a time when knights were heroes, testing their strength, endurance and coordination in front of a cheering crowd. Families get to float on a four-course medieval-style meal as they root for their assigned knight within this two-hour tournament as he tests his might in jousting, swordsmanship, falconry, horsemanship and much more. 3. Discovery Cube & Science Center 2500 N. Main Street, Santa Ana, CA 92705 Discovery Cube Orange County is a hands on science instruction centre that helps kids with STEM proficiency, early learning, healthful living and environmental stewardship through interactive displays. 4. Pretend City Children's Museum Pretend City Children's Museum is an interactive museum which resembles a child-size city where children can assume real world roles while researching what it means to be a part of a community. 5. Adventure City Adventure City in Anaheim is a little amusement park geared toward big fun for families, complete with rides, petting zoo and family dance parties. In my view, this park best suited for younger children (not teens). 6. Orange County Fair 88 Fair Drive, Costa Mesa, CA 92626 OC Fair runs during the summer months starting mid-July and extends until mid-August. The fair features exciting exhibits, animals, concerts, food vendors, rides and much more. When the fair isn't in town, the OC fairgrounds are used for the OC Marketplace at which you can still love shopping, food and live music. 7. Orange County Beaches There are a few great Orange County beaches near Anaheim, such as Laguna Beach, a coastal resort city made famous to mass public thanks to various tv shows. Then there's Newport Beach, a lux beachside town famous for the Newport Harbor, Balboa Fun Zone and Balboa Island. Huntington Beach is California's trendy Surf City and residence US Open of Surfing every summer. However, the original California surf town award goes to Dana Point, a casual yet classy seaside town that's packed with experience. For lots more details about arranging a trip to those Orange County Beaches near Anaheim. 8. Aquarium of the Pacific 100 Aquarium Way, Long Beach, CA 90802 The Aquarium of the Pacific is a very big public aquarium located on Rainbow Harbor in Long Beach.The aquarium has over 11,000 creatures on screen throughout the numerous exhibits including whales, penguins and sea otters. 9. Angel Stadium of Anaheim 2000 E Gene Autry Way, Anaheim, CA 92806-6143 The atmosphere is always fun for the kids and the Angels' Stadium actually caters to families using a household centre with games, fireworks on Friday and Saturday nights and even a mini-firework display when our boys hit a home run. Go Angels!

#anaheim hotels #anaheim #disneyland #disneyland rooms #anaheim rooms #rooms anaheim #rooms

[3one3]

The Sequel - 867

Monza

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Sometimes you come to me or I come to you and you act as if I am not to you what you are to me.”

“Ohmygosh, it’s just 8 in the morning. You’re going to have to save the riddles for after I’ve had coffee.”

“It’s not a riddle, cariña. I’m trying to tell you something.”

“Can you tell me in fewer words? Or just repeat “you”, “me”, and “I” a lot less?”

“You’re spoiling this.”

“Hold it for after coffee.”

“Brat.”

“You’re trying to tell me that last night was last night because I acted like your friend from the moment you got here until the moment I woke you up, and you were worried that that’s how I think of us- as friends- friends who mean a lot to one another and who sleep together, but friends. You were so overcome by the way I kissed you in the middle of the night that you realized that isn’t how it is- that you’re not my friend, but the person with whom I am desperately in love. I can confirm this. You are that person. You are to me everything that I am to you, and perhaps more. I must tell you, though I fear it will hurt you, and that it is unfair, that I am once again thinking of leaving him and moving back to London to be with you.”

“You have to stop watching four episodes of that show every day. You’re speaking like it’s the Middle Ages. I think I heard an English accent starting.”

“Shut up! That is not relevant. Did you hear what I said?”

“I know when you’re thinking of it and when you’re not. You don’t have to say so. I knew that in the middle of the night. It changes nothing for me. It just feels good when I see you and I know. Every time when we first meet up, I have a window to figure out if it was a good few weeks with him or a bad few weeks. I was confused last night because you were unhappy recently but you still acted like it was a good few weeks. Usually when things are not so good with him, you get to me and you’re attached, and you say you love me all the time, and you kiss me every 5 minutes like you do with him. All I was saying just now is that I’m very happy to know it doesn’t matter if it was a good few weeks. With me it’s still the same.”

“Okay now how bout we stop talking about last night before it’s completely ruined?”

“How about you go take a shower and get ready.”

“I wasn’t going to shower.”

“You smell.”

“I do not!”

“You smell like you slept with cum leaking out of-“

“Oh my god I take it back. I do not love you.” Christina rotated her hips so that she could snap her legs shut instead of leaving one across Juan’s stomach, and retracted her arm from across his chest so that she could fold it with the other one across hers instead. He reached for her, still wearing his delighted smirk, and smothered most of her upper body with his own. He smothered her face with kisses too, which turned her plaintive protests into girlish giggles. “I thought you were a gentleman! The most gentlemanly of gentlemen!”

“Even a gentleman can comment when his girl can’t be bothered to clean up after-“

“Why is that so terrible all of a sudden? Some guys like it. How do you think babies happen? It’s not-“

“Oh, you want a baby to happen? That’s it?” the Spaniard inquired at close range once she’d given up her fighting and was largely pinned down on her side. He spoke to her from just above her face, and at that distance it was plain to her that he wasn’t playing anymore even if he mocked with his imitating tone the way she characterized conception.

“No,” she retorted. “You know that’s not an issue.”

“No, of course it’s not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Right.”

“Don’t snap at me, cariña,” Juan warned with a very pointedly raised eyebrow. “If not enough sleep makes you too cranky to take a joke, don’t stay up all night.”

“If you want to be a father, don’t make passive-aggressive jokes about it.” Christina’s eyes returned the warning. Being held at a physical disadvantage could bring out the scathing and bite in her, particularly when she felt armed with righteousness.

“What should I do instead?”

“Tell me.”

“And what difference would it make?”

Righteousness can get one into trouble, she’d learned over and over. The problem was that the lesson never seemed to stick. She backed herself into a corner where the only way out was to hear a truth she seriously did not want to know. Her mind raced for an alternative escape that wouldn’t require truth or losing face. Nothing came up but passing- giving up her turn and hoping her opponent would similarly jeopardize himself and thus give her an obvious next move.

“I don’t know,” she demurred, his weight growing uncomfortable on her arm trapped between his upper body and her side, and the weight of the subject matter growing ever more uncomfortable on the rest of her. A conversation about making babies was possibly the very last thing the rider wanted to have with her boyfriend while her husband was home with her son.

“You really should stop watching that show,” the Chelsea man tutted with a subtle smile. “Bastards on the brain.” He got off of her after that, and reclined in his spot as if nothing unusual had happened. “Do you want breakfast before we go? I can order something while you get ready, or we can look for something to take with us on the road.”

That’s it? That’s all, she asked in her head. The problem with giving up one’s turn in a battle of cross examination, Christina discovered, is that you give the opponent an opportunity to take the discussion far away from the pivot you wanted, and to eliminate the chance for you to ask for it without being the one responsible for any additional fighting. I wanted him to say it. I wanted him to say he wants to have a child, or to say that he doesn’t, or to trot out his usual line about not thinking about it yet. I don’t know WHY I want to know since all of the answers would upset me, but I still want to know, damn it. Yes, I would feel guilty and terrible if he said he wants to make babies with me. Yes, I would feel disappointed if he said he didn’t. Yes, I would call him a liar if he said he wasn’t thinking about it, because you don’t make snide comments about contraception and come back with “What should I do instead?” if you’re not harboring some baby-related resentment.

“Chris?” The purveyor of her torment patted her shoulder since she was still facing away from him, staring at the shrouded windows. This is going to be a wonderful day and I’ll only ruin it if I fight with him, or make him tell me something that will haunt me all day long. She turned over onto her back.

“I’m not hungry but I will be. Can we get coffee and a banana or pastry or something on the way?”

“Yes. Come here.” Juan waved her closer, so she completed the 180 and turned on her right side. It didn’t really bring her any nearer to him, but the change in body language made her metaphorically closer at least- more receptive, less shut off. He leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I was just joking with you. Promise.”

“Mhm.” Her slightly bloodshot blues dropped down away from his, mostly because she didn’t believe him and didn’t want the temptation to call him out. Looking at him would only egg her on.

“Make sure you do your hair however you like it when you wear caps. We’re going to get you a Vettel Ferrari cap, yes?”

“Mhm.”

“Why are you upset?”

“Because a few hours ago all that mattered in the world was loving you, and this morning the rest of the world is real again.” With that nugget of truth exposed, the Vettel fan got up and went to her overnight bag to get her outfit for Monza, planned meticulously and with consideration for that cap she wanted, and then took it to the bathroom to freshen up and put it on. What she said was the real truth- not the sideshow of semen and babies and intellectual jousting. The middle of the night was love and lust and overwhelming goodness, and the morning was the reminder of all the things in her life at work to constrain and hinder that love and lust and good, most of which was her own doing.

Her grand prix companion let it go. He often knew when best to leave her issues alone, and unexamined, just as he usually knew when best to extract her thoughts and feelings from her by any means necessary. A Formula 1 race with paddock credentials at the sport’s “Temple of Speed” was no occasion to push her through the crucible. It was a day for fun and excitement, and his attitude and demeanor were in line with that. They raided the continental breakfast since it was included in the room charge, and hit the road with coffees, two paper cups full of fruit, and croissants wrapped in napkins. The buffet really wasn’t meant for takeout. The player did the driving on the off chance Christina might pass out and get a little more sleep, but she was much too excited and talked the whole way about a change in the oil burn regulations. She explained that the sport’s governing body, the FIA, announced that Monza would be the first round at which the new rules limiting the burn rate would go into effect, and that the limit was only imposed on new engines taken from then on. Old engines would see their established oil burn rate grandfathered in. Mercedes duly installed their fourth and final engines at the previous round, in Spa, and intended to make them last through the end of the season, taking advantage of the burn rate. Ferrari would take new engines closer to the end, in Malaysia most likely, and have to switch to the new lower limit. Mercedes’ move was clever, but Christina said it could come back to hurt them later because there was just too much of the calendar left to have taken their last engines so early. They could lose performance in the home stretch due to wear, or even suffer failures. If they opted to take a fifth engine for either of their cars, the penalty was a hefty grid drop.

“If we see Jon Snow, you have to try to get a picture of me with his butt,” she whispered to Juan just a moment into their paddock experience, when their escort from Ferrari’s press office stopped their journey to the motorhome to have a word with another girl in all red. Christina’s head was on swivel, and covered with her new hat. She was looking for famous people, of motorsport origin and otherwise. The crowd outside the paddock was 185,000 strong, and the much smaller number inside moved about with purpose on race day morning giving the illusion of the same kind of density.

“I am definitely not helping you photobomb an actor’s behind,” Juan informed her. “Unless you talk to him and ask his permission.”

“Oh, yeah, because guys always ask girls if it’s okay before taking sneaky pictures of their ass.”

“He probably uses a professional butt stand-in anyway.”

“Only the first time. Not in the one a few weeks ago.”

“You know way too much about this.”

“I’m sorry for the delay,” their host, Antonella, smiled after the other woman departed. Her accent was noticeable but not overwhelming, and most importantly her desire to please was just the right side of ridiculous. Both athletes were familiar with press, public relations, and communications people who were so overly accommodating and smiley that they came across as wholly inauthentic. Her smile was genuine when she handed them their credentials and caps and saw how excited they made the rider, and it grew even larger when Christina asked where she could get a little one for Lukas.

Their tour began in Ferrari’s motorhome, where they had espresso, met a few other guests, chatted with the head of the press office, posed for a few photos, and geeked out over a steering wheel retired from service. Next they visited the garage and received an explanation of how everything worked in there, which one of them certainly didn’t need, got to “pull the trigger” on some wheel guns, and even got a peek into the cockpits of Sebastian Vettel and Kimi Raikkonen’s racing cars. Sebastian’s biggest fan had her picture taken sat on his stool in his personal space at the back of the garage. Antonella told them they could return there just before the race and don some headsets to listen to the team chatter while the cars were on their way to the grid, and then they’d be escorted out onto the starting grid themselves to see all the other cars up close. In the meantime, someone from Liberty Media, the controlling owner of Formula 1, took over as host for a little while. He showed them the Paddock Club- a hospitality center for VIP’s from all teams as well as any fan willing to shell out for it, took some photos, apologized profusely for not being able to arrange for them to go for a ride in the two-seater Formula 1 car, showed them the viewing deck from which they could watch the cars on track at the beginning of the race, and fed them lunch, after which they were handed back to Antonella, who had a great treat for them.

“Let me see! Do I look like an idiot?” the gearhead girl asked anxiously, reaching for Juan’s phone. They got to meet Sebastian in the motorhome before he had to make a run for it for the drivers’ parade. The four-time world champion was very friendly and gracious, and he signed Christina’s hat and the two hanging from her little backpack. They did his trademark finger pose together for the requisite photos. She was very proud of herself for not being too starstruck, but very jealous of Juan because Sebastian actually knew who he was.

“No, you look fine. Very happy,” he laughed after he handed over the device. A team photographer took pictures with a real camera too, but he knew she wanted to be able to see one right away, and share it with everyone she knew.

“I’m glad I touched up my lipstick. Faded Ferrari red lips would not have been a good look. He looks like he didn’t mind meeting us, right? I hate when you see pictures with famous people and they look aggravated or like they’d rather be anywhere else but in the frame with you.” I’m in a picture with Seb and he’s smiling! Best day ever, the Olympic medal winner concluded, perhaps having forgotten about her titular achievement.

“You made him laugh when you said you jump horses over very tall things,” her friend assured her. He had squeezed her wrist tight when the Formula 1 pilot asked during their introduction what kind of riding she did and she followed her answer with “I know your sister does vaulting”. She wouldn’t have wanted to embarrass herself by hastily dropping random and very little known Seb knowledge on Seb himself.

“Did I wish him luck? Crap, I think I forgot to say good luck!”

“You definitely wished him luck, cariña,” her trusty travel companion laughed. She was hurrying to send herself the picture so that she could show it to André, who, despite all evidence adding doubt, was still her person and the one she needed to share things with, at least when she wasn’t already sharing them with Juan, and to post it on social media for all to see. “Like four times.”

“Okay good. Gimme a hug.”

“What?”

“Hug.” The jumping rider returned his phone and stretched up on the toes of her Stan Smiths to wrap her arms around his neck, and he wrapped his around her body. “That was so cool. Thanks so much for suggesting we come.”

“Thanks so much for letting me stand next to Sebastian when we took the picture together,” the Spaniard teased. He let go of her when she slid back to the flat of her feet, and then mocked the way she had to pull up her white cutoff shorts. She went white shorts, black v-neck tee, and yellow leather backpack knowing that she’d have a red hat too and thus represent all the essential Scuderia Ferrari colors.

“Do you want to go wander into McLaren and introduce yourself so you can catch Fernando after the drivers’ parade now since we’re free from our minders?”

“Sure. Are you concerned that I should get to say hello to Fernando, or have you checked Twitter and verified that the butt guy is still in McLaren?”

“Both? Actually I don’t know if he’s still there. Their tweet about him was hours ago. He could be anywhere.”

“If the parade is just beginning, we have some time. Want to walk around and see who or what we find?”

“Yessssss.” Christina slid her smallest aviators back on her face and followed Juan out of the mini HQ. Once out of the three-storey structure she took a hold of his arm and let him lead their wanderings. She knew she couldn’t hold his hand, but friends could walk that way. As if to remind her to remain careful, André replied to her picture text before they were even past the next fancy pop-up homebase in Renault’s black and yellow, fittingly.

“You look very pretty today, Prinzessin. I hope you’re having the best time.”

The Dortmund player was not quite blissfully but certainly blithely unaware of the effect of his behavior on his wife. He had no idea that she couldn’t wait to get to Italy because she wanted away from him and his moodiness and shortness, nor that she was desperate to feel the way she did with his former teammate, or that he wasn’t making her feel that way himself anymore. He just didn’t see that there was anything wrong, so he didn’t mind that she went away for the night, or that she appeared to be overflowing with joy while she did something without him. Her pictures and Instagram stories captured a happy girl loving life, and he didn’t know she wasn’t loving it the same the day before. And it couldn’t all be the buzz of the Formula 1 paddock.

“That’s the guy with the butt your mama is in love with,” André told his son, who was busy driving around the living room in his battery powered Ferrari- the one Juan gave him for Christmas. Dad was watching the build-up coverage to the race, with an eye out in case Christina was interviewed or caught in the back of shot. Unlike her, Kit Harington was getting a ride in the two-seater.

“Who isn’t in love with his butt?” Espen questioned incredulously. There was absolutely no reason for her to still be at the house, and yet she was. André asked her to look after Lukas for a couple of hours earlier in the morning so that he could go to Brackel for treatment. He’d been home a while though, on the sofa with her and the dogs.

“Me? Mausi? All the people who don’t watch that show?”

“That’s just because they don’t know about his bum. His face isn’t bad either.” The nanny tilted her head and nodded at the screen, and he rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell Chris- she’ll kick herself- he’s just done a major ad campaign for Dolce. She probably could have been in adverts with his bum if she hadn’t bailed on them. At the very least, she’d get to meet him at company parties.”

“Yeah definitely don’t tell her that.” The player shook his head vehemently and sunk down the cushions on the chaise part, his usual spot, so that he was flatter, and as a consequence, more level with Espen on the next part of the sectional. Lucky yawned, stretched his front paws out straight, and kind of rolled over onto his back so that he was aligned with André’s hip. Both humans reached to scratch his tummy at the same time.

“You can do it,” the Dutch girl smiled. “I have this little cutie to pet.” Spencer, in her lap, opened one eye when she rubbed his head.

“They’re spoiled rats.”

“Their mother says they earn their keep!”

“She’s spoiled too.”

“Lucky her.”

“How sick do you think that guy is of hearing people tell him winter is coming?”

“The amount is probably inversely proportional to the millions of dollars in his bank account, no?”

“I guess. I wonder what terrible, embarrassing thing Chris said to Vettel.” It looks like he was nice to her, André thought, unlocking his phone to look at the picture again. She’d be upset for weeks if her idol let her down. Or worse, if she thought he didn’t like meeting her or something. I’d never hear the end of that.

“Do you think she ever realizes that her husband and most of her best friends are famous the same way the other athletes she idolizes are? I think that’s so funny about her. That and her reaction to attractive people,” Espen chuckled. “She acts like she doesn’t share a bedroom with a guy just as fit as Kit Harington. She acts like she doesn’t know anyone like that.”

“I think he has all the millions of dollars in the bank account because millions of women find him a lot more attractive than me.”

“Yes, the acting in the biggest hit TV program has nothing to do with it.”

“He wouldn’t get the part if he were fat and ugly!”

“Yes, sure, of course, but he is not a unique, Adonis of a man. That’s all I’m saying. Chris acts like he is. Not just him, obviously.”

“So? This is a silly hill to die on.” André found the debate with his son’s nanny highly entertaining because he couldn’t understand her point, and she seemed so adamant and even bitter about it. She wore her bitterness in a sort of cute flaring of her nose and widening of her eyes. “Do you think Jon Snow’s friends who are girls don’t think anyone else is hot? They just say, “Oh well I know Jon Snow and therefore no one else is attractive”? That makes no sense. I have a sexy and adorable wife and many friends with other sexy wives and I still say that Scarlet Johansson is god-level sexy. As a matter of fact, I think the dragon queen lady is really attractive. She’s sort of like Chris- tiny and feisty and soft and hard at the same time.”

“But you wouldn’t binge-watch 67 episodes of her television series and act like you’ve never known such a beautiful woman,” Espen countered, gesticulating at the screen on the wall because Sebastian was on it. Christina idolized the driver for his mind and his heart, but both people on her couch knew she also swooned over his face.

“Neither does Chris!” One of the people on the couch was still laughing and dismissive. “She loves the story. Do you know how long it’s been since she’s had the time in her day and the space in her head to watch a full TV show and follow the plot through an entire season? I think it’s been at least 5 years. It’s great for her that she can get into something that takes her away and makes her sit still here on the couch or in bed for hours at a time without a single thought about herself or her life. Her imagination gets so starved for an outside stimulus when she doesn’t have time or the ability to focus on reading, or a series, or a project to work on, even, that it manufactures its own stories, and that’s not so good for her. She gets all...confused.” I’m not sure that’s the word but I think it is, he continued to himself. She finds things to get upset about, or imagines something that tells her reality isn’t good enough, or not the way it’s “supposed” to be. I don’t know. But it’s not good for her, or us. I’d rather have to hear her talk about a TV show nonstop, or a horse’s pedigree that poses some mystery to her, or her thoughts on whichever political issue she’s following. That’s much better than “Babe, I’ve been thinking, if you can’t read my mind and know which mood I’m in before you even get home, it must mean we’re not connected anymore,” or whatever other crap sprouts in her head when that imagination of hers is left to its own devices. It’s a blessing for both of us that she doesn’t have a problem or a competition to obsess over and instead has time to obsess over something of no consequence. “I’m for anything that she finds de-stressing. There isn’t a lot in life that she does.” I’m especially for de-stressing activities that are free, harmless to her body, can be shared with me, and have nothing to do with Juan. Or cauliflower. I hate it when she de-stresses by turning cauliflower into things that shouldn’t be cauliflower.

“Everyone who watches that show complains that it drives them crazy and causes them so much stress!”

“That’s different. Stress over fictional people is different from stress over World Cup campaigns. Trust me, I know.”

“Her life is sooooo stressful between weeks on her sailboat and weekend getaways to Mallorca- with sports cars, and a talent agent, and more handbags than most people have clothes.”

“Weeks on a sailboat are surprisingly meaningless when you’re competing for Olympic medals in the weeks after.” André dropped his gaze down to the black and white terrier at his side, and felt somewhat irritated that his nanny- hired help but considered part of the family- would harbor so much obvious jealousy in regards to his wife, and be so out of touch. “You’re with her so often. You should know what it’s like for her. Just because she smiles and does the work doesn’t mean it’s easy. You’ve seen when she can’t smile, and when she struggles with the work.”

“Of course.” Espen seemed to sense that she was wading into dangerous waters with her words and in particular her tone. Being part of the family could apparently lead her to forget that she was speaking to one of her bosses about the other.

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The 9 Best Things to do in Anaheim with Children 2020

Living in Anaheim, I have spent a great deal of time exploring every nook and cranny of the popular city. My knowledge goes way beyond Disney! If you are seeing Anaheim (or currently planning a trip ), chances are that you'll be checking out a Disney Park or 2 while you are here. That is great! However, I wish to let you in on a little secret... There are sooo many things to do near Anaheim with children (besides Disney), you might choose to plan several added times to truly get the most of your household trip to sunny Southern California. So to help ensure your trip to my hometown truly stones, I'll share with you some of the latest things to do in Anaheim and the surrounding region with kids of all ages. 1. Knott's Berry Farm 8039 Beach Boulevard, Buena Park, California 90620 Knott's Berry Farm is a 57-acre amusement park in Buena Park having a history. Dating back to the 1920's as a roadside attraction in which Walter Knott sold his famous boysenberry solutions. He had a passion for California history he added a replica ghost city and the park continued to grow into what it is now. 2. Medieval Times Medieval Times in Buena Park, is like stepping back into a time when knights were heroes, testing their strength, endurance and coordination in front of a cheering crowd. Families get to float on a four-course medieval-style meal since they root for their delegated knight in this two-hour tournament as he assesses his might in jousting, swordsmanship, falconry, horsemanship and much more. 3. Discovery Cube & Science Center Discovery Cube Orange County is a hands-on science instruction center which helps children with STEM proficiency, ancient learning, healthy living and environmental stewardship through interactive displays. 4. Pretend City Children's Museum Pretend City Children's Museum is an interactive museum which resembles a child-size town where kids can assume real world roles while researching what it means to be part of a community. 5. Adventure City Related posts: - Disneyland Anaheim - Do Go Noi That - Mu Dep - Non Luoi Trai - Mu Snapback 1238 S Beach Blvd, Anaheim, CA 92804 Adventure Town in Anaheim is a small amusement park aimed at large fun for families, complete with rides, petting zoo and family dance parties. In my opinion, this park best suited to younger children (not teens). 6. Orange County Fair 88 Fair Drive, Costa Mesa, CA 92626 OC Fair runs during the summer months beginning mid-July and goes until mid-August. The fair features exciting exhibits, animals, concerts, food vendors, rides and more. After the fair is not in the town, the OC fairgrounds are utilized for the OC Marketplace where you can still enjoy shopping, food and live music. 7. Orange County Beaches There are a few great Orange County beaches near Anaheim, such as Laguna Beach, a coastal resort city made famous to mass public thanks to various tv shows. Then there's Newport Beach, a lux beachside city famous for the Newport Harbor, Balboa Fun Zone and Balboa Island. Huntington Beach is California's cool Surf City and home US Open of Surfing every summer. On the other hand, the original California surf city award goes to Dana Point, a casual yet sophisticated seaside town that is packed with adventure. For more information about arranging a trip to those Orange County Beaches near Anaheim. 8. Aquarium of the Pacific 100 Aquarium Way, Long Beach, CA 90802 The Aquarium of the Pacific is a huge public aquarium located on Rainbow Harbor in Long Beach.The volcano has over 11,000 animals on screen throughout the numerous exhibits including whales, penguins and sea otters. 9. Angel Stadium of Anaheim 2000 E Gene Autry Way, Anaheim, CA 92806-6143 The air is always fun for the kids and the Angels' Arena really caters to families with a household centre with games, terror on Friday and Saturday nights and even a mini-firework screen when our boys hit a home run. Go Angels!

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