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jimlingss · 4 years

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Moirai [2]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

➜ Words: 6.2k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

You turn the corner and dart down the hall. “My lady!” There’s a parade of maids chasing after you, Joan included in the bunch, and a frightened guard whose metal armour clanks with each movement. You grin, swinging your wooden sword around at them with a ‘huzzah!’. Pretending you’re a champion, you twirl around the pillar with one arm. But even with your theatrics, they’re still meters away and out of reach. “Please! Come back! You have your dance lessons!” You stick out your tongue. “Then catch me!” It’s been one full year since you’ve started learning swordsmanship and admittedly, it’s become one of your most favourite times of the day. It beats sitting at a desk with the old fart droning on and on about dumb things you already know or having your posture criticized over and over again during dance lessons. You’re frankly getting tired of having information and insults shoved down your throat. Sword lessons are the only time you can be out in the sun and do whatever you want. You can tell that you’re improving too. It’s a pain in the ass to get the guards to take you seriously, but sometimes the tips and tricks they give are pretty helpful. It’s fun. Especially when there are people desperately chasing you. “P-Please!” one of the girls cries out, running out of breath. One of the best perks about being a five-year old is having endless energy in your body. And you’ll happily take advantage of that while you still can. “Pirates never give up! Argh, matey!” But your play time is unfortunately interrupted by a deadpanning voice— “What are you doing?” The familiar sharp voice sends shivers up your spine and you freeze. Your parade halts on their heels as well, immediately dropping their heads to the ground and placing one hand over the other reverently. “Your grace.” “What is going on here?” Your mother’s footsteps echo through the marble hall, ball gown dragged behind her as her scrutinizing eyes lay on the help, the knight and then to you. “I’m so sorry,” Joan is quick to confess, “The lady refuses to attend her dance practices.” And she’s quick to throw you under the bus. If you could, you’d stick up your middle finger at her. Your mother turns, her glare laid upon you. You brace yourself. “This is not how the future Devereux head should act.” Her voice is above a slight murmur, yet chilling and heavy. Her narrowed eyes have dimmed as they look upon you. She doesn’t need to yell to be frightening. “The Chevalier household has their youngest daughter playing piano and they recently went to the castle to show her talent. How will you compete, Anastasia?” “I—” “Or will you continue to tarnish our family’s name by being a child?” You are a child. Technically. The woman looms over you, her demeanour imposing and the burden of the household’s name lays upon your shoulders. You can’t help but feel small. It’s no wonder Anastasia took the Prince’s kindness as love and fell for him so quickly. Moments with him were her moments of freedom. You stay quiet, solemn, knowing it’s not worth arguing. Your eyes instead focus on a younger maid who’s silently snickering to herself and before you can make note for later, your vision blurs. “From now on, your swordsmanship lessons will be retracted until you’ve caught up with the rest of your lessons,” she says while looking straight ahead, not sparing you a glance. “The only places you are to be permitted in for the next month is your room and the study—” It’s unfair. A punishment that doesn’t fit the crime. But your voice doesn’t come out of your mouth. The world tilts on an axis. It swirls. Your head is lightweight. And before you could figure out what’s happening, there’s a shrill cry for you — “my lady!” — and you feel yourself falling back before the universe becomes pitch black. An abyss of nothing. // “Why did she faint?!” When you come to, your first thought is that you’ve died. Again. Illness. Heart attack. Maybe from the plague. Fuck. It’s frightening and you feel an urge to cry, knowing that you yet again didn’t complete your goal of living a long and fruitful life. That the years spent fighting for your survival were ultimately useless. But then you hear far away voices and realize your fingers can twitch. The soft mattress underneath you registers soon after and it sinks in that you’re in your room, bedridden. “Well….your grace…” “On with it! I didn’t bring you here to waste my time!” “Herrick…” Oh right. It’s the Eve of the Solar Festival, isn’t it? A day where commoners celebrate the empire and wish for its everlasting prosperity. You remember since you’ve never gone before. Around this same time last year and the year before that, you fell ill in the exact same way — cold, chest aching, dizzy spells. It’s odd. Usually you aren’t so weak and yet somehow, you always get better in the morning once the festival is over. You don’t remember this ever being mentioned in the original game either. Or at least Anastasia never said anything about it and she would’ve totally milked it for the Prince’s attention if she could’ve. But maybe it’s an outside detail. Something the game developers were going to include in a future DLC. “We don’t know what’s happening to the lady, your grace,” the healer says. Your father bellows from his stomach, “Excuse me?!” “H-Her pulse reads well and she has no fever either. I-It’s a very unusual case.” In your half-consciousness, you perceive the bitter silence. “Heal her at all costs.” Your father’s footsteps fade and your mother sighs. You wish you couldn’t hear. Otherwise, it would be easy to demonize the pair as unsympathetic, psychopathic parents who only consider their daughter a chess piece. You’re sure the only reason they’re expressing so much concern is because you are the only heir after all. They really have no future if Anastasia dies. But it’s still hard to quell the hope that they actually care for your wellbeing. Still, you wish you couldn’t hear their desperation. It wouldn’t have to be so conflicting. Or bittersweet. The only time they show an ounce of their affection is when you’re on your deathbed. You muster the strength to open your eyes once everyone’s left the room. Most likely, you’ll live through this. You still have yet to have any of the game’s encounters or even start. Anastasia was alive for most of it, enough to terrorize the main character, so you’ll live too. Shit. When does the game start again? The opening scene was right before the debutante ball was held for all the girls in the empire. You count on your fingers — give or take, there’s twelve or thirteen years left…. But you remember from the wiki fan page that Anastasia became engaged to the Crown Prince when they were kids. Oh god. If you weren’t so weak, you’d roll over and scream into your pillow. There’s an unsettling feeling boiling in the pit of your stomach. No matter how much effort you put forth, you don’t know how you’re going to avoid that arrangement.

Turns out, it’s unavoidable. It begins two years later at seven years old, the D-day that you were dreading, the first domino that begins all the others. “No! Please!” The entire household is stunned at how you’ve grabbed onto the Duke’s leg and wrapped your limbs around his appendage, practically dead weight and not allowing him to move a single step. All your life, you’ve kept a good amount of distance between your parents — never daring to overstep your boundaries or sass them back no matter how much you wanted to. It’s more trouble than it’s worth anyway and it’s better to play on their good side. But you’ve thrown in the towel. This is your last desperate attempt. “I’ll be good, I promise I’ll go to all my dance lessons and all my history lessons and all my math lessons. Please, papa! Please!” You’re practically crying aloud. You wish someone would help you. “I don’t want to go to the Royal Palace!” Edith is shaking her head while Joan is mortified at the sidelines. Your mother’s expression is twisted in disgust while your dad is wholly aghast. Hey — it’s not like you wanted to do this either, alright?! But your pleas fall on deaf ears. To them, it’s merely the whining of a child. A temper tantrum. “My lady, please stop this,” Joan harshly whispers and rushes to pry your grip off of the Duke’s leg. Several others come too, maids and kitchen staff alike. Your strength is no match for theirs. “My stomach hurts!” Your father has no sympathy. “We’ve delayed enough times, Anastasia. If we postpone the meeting with the King again, it would be shameful to our house. Now get up.” He’s done hearing the excuses — and while you’d usually internally call him out for being an ass, the moment you heard he wanted to take you to the palace, you did claim you have a fever. Then you claimed diarrhea. A cough. Hid for several hours. You’re actually surprised you managed to delay it for this long. “There’s no choice, my lady,” Joan mutters quickly as she fixes the ribbons in your pretty hairdo. “You must go with the Duke today.” Deep down, you know it’s true. You’ll be pulled along anyhow. But you wish they would understand that this is a matter of life and death for you. Your silence is a sign of raising the white flag and Joan retracts back to her place as your dad turns to leave the manor. He adjusts his hat as he’s escorted to the carriage and you’re about to trail after him, but your mother stops you. You expect her to reprimand you, give an earful of what you should and shouldn’t do. But you’re surprised when she lowers herself down to your eye level. She catches you off guard when she reaches out to button up your pea coat, attentive and careful in each swift movement. “This is a really important meeting, Anastasia. Do you understand?” Her voice is soft, quiet enough that no one else aside from you can hear. You nod. “You must be on your best behaviour. Your father, me, all the workers here, and the whole House of Devereux will be relying on you.” Wow. Way to not pressure a seven year old. “Today is the day that might change our lives for the better.” As she finishes buttoning, her hands stroke your shoulders down your arms. The Duchess smiles gingerly, tiredly. For a moment, you feel guilty for being so selfish — for prioritizing your own survival and desires when everyone else was quite literally relying on you for their livelihood. You find yourself swallowing hard before nodding again. You get into the carriage without another word. Well fuck. What now? A part of you wishes you ran away when you had the opportunity — even though there was a good chance you would’ve been kidnapped and sold at an underground market or gone hungry or be shipped back right to your parents. Ashea, like any other place, doesn’t take kindly to wandering children. But at least then you would’ve had more control and choice. You know this isn’t just a fun field trip to the palace. The only reason the Duke and the King would meet like this is to seek an engagement. Your engagement with the Prince’s. Half an hour later, you peek out the carriage windows to see the castle at the horizon. Stone walls, seven towers, lookouts, the empire’s flag fluttering in the breeze — it’s a beautiful place with rolling green hills and beds of flowers that wind up the path. It’s a hundred times more grand than the Devereux estate and ten times the size too, stretching across for miles. But it’s also the location where all of it happens. The beginning. The climax. The end. “Anastasia.” Your attention is taken when your father steps off the carriage. You take the servant's hand and hop down onto the cobblestone, following your father closely. He greets an important person or two and you lower your head to them in greeting as they complement how mannerly you are. The two of you are led through open, lavish halls full of life-sized portraits and marble statues, and then through the garden. Even in both your lifetimes, you’ve never seen so many different kinds of flowers and vivid hues in one place. Pansies. Orchids. Marigold. Magenta. Lavender. Marmalade. But you don't get to admire it for long. Not when the gazebo comes into sight. A man with straight posture, dark hair streaked with gray to show his age and deep set eyes sits at the rounded table. Even with the absence of his crown, his status is shown through his navy cape ornate with golden swirls held together by an emerald jewel embellished with the royal crest. Wrinkles around his mouth, he has a fiercely stern expression until he cordially smiles as your father approaches. Beside him is a spitting image, a smaller boy slumped in the white chair, visibly bored. “Herrick! Good to see you, my old friend.” “Your Majesty.” Your father bows and you follow suit, giving a curtsy and lowering your head. But at the same time, you can’t help peeking at the boy. His eyes meet yours and you look away. Oh fuck. It’s the first meeting between the Prince and Anastasia. You’re sure for her it was impactful, nerve wracking, life changing. And it’s like that for you as well, but not so much on the positive side. “Please, the formalities. Is this the daughter you've been speaking so highly about?” “Yes, this is my only child, Anastasia.” You plaster on a perfect, little smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.” The King hums. “A very lovely child indeed. The Devereux House is blessed.” The Duke smiles. “Thank you.” “Please sit and make yourselves welcome.” The King gestures and the servants nearby scurry over, pulling out your chairs, pouring tea and placing plates of biscuits on their table. In a blink, they’ve finished and you can’t help but muse how much better they are than the servants back at home. The King smiles and looks at his son. “Jungkook, don’t you have anything to say?” “Nice to meet you,” he deadpans before his doe eyes wander out to the gardens. Jungkook is wholly disinterested in you and this entire affair — you don’t blame him. You bet any seven year old would be itching to get out of their seat. But looking at him, you can’t believe you liked him so much in the game. You even had him as your phone wallpaper for a few months. But from the perspective of Anastasia and knowing your outcome and your impending demise, he’s not even cute as a kid. If anything, sitting across from him stresses you the fuck out. You weren’t supposed to even meet him. This was the exact opposite of your battle plans. And yet the engagement is going to happen whether you like it or not. The greatest irony of all is that you know he’ll end up falling in love with the main character anyway instead of you. Aka. the orphaned girl who ends up adopted by a baron. This whole ordeal only serves to make you suffer. The only way you could sabotage this meeting now is by slamming the teapot over Prince Jungkook’s head. And that would either get you thrown in jail for treason and executed or sent back to the Devereux estate on house arrest where your mother would kill you. Oh god. It’s death either way. “Are the sweets not to your liking?” It takes a second for you to register that the King is looking at you. That he’s speaking to you. You go wide-eyed, realizing you haven’t had a bite of the cakes, the biscuits or sipped on any tea. You’ve completely tuned out their conversation. But he’s been watching you and Jungkook from the corner of his eye, assessing your interactions closely. Your palms go clammy as you open your mouth before closing it. “She’s just shy,” your dad swiftly informs with a polite smile. It’s a complete lie, but one the royal monarch believes. “Ah. We shouldn’t bore them with adult talk then.” The man turns to his son. “Jungkook, why don’t you go off and play with Anastasia here?” “Okay,” he mumbles and slides off his chair. You follow suit, a bit relieved that you were dismissed from the overly formal atmosphere. The two of you go deeper into the gardens until the gazes of your father and the King’s fade from view. Jungkook is wearing a white ensemble with a cape which he dirties with the way he’s kicking rocks in his path. He seems burdened that you’re beside him. “What do you like playing?” he asks. You’re perplexed on how to answer. You’re not sure how you should play with an actual seven year old. Then again, you like to run away from the maids and swing your sword around on your down time. But that’s just because you like their reactions. “Sword fighting.” Jungkook blanches as if he just bit into a lemon. “What kind of girl plays with swords?” Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with an urge to kick the royal prince right in his shin. But as the annoyance floods you, an epiphany comes along with it — if you can’t avoid Jungkook, maybe it’s time to switch strategies. Maybe you can start sowing the seeds of your future survival right here, right now. If one day, he’ll be condemning you of countless crimes and looking down at you as an evil villain, maybe you can turn his perception in the opposite direction. Harmless. Overbearingly nice. Arrows that practically point ‘I’M NOT A THREAT WHATSOEVER!’. You’re a genius. You force the highest pitched giggle you can. “Really?” Jungkook kicks another rock. “Girls have flimsy arms and trip every time you touch them.” Ah. The ancient version of: girls have cooties and so you should stay away from them. Alright, alright. You can work with this. “What do you like playing, Your Highness?” “Anything that’s not with girls.” You pause and laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff. Jungkook suddenly lifts his head and turns to you with the swivel of his heel. You stop as well and his index finger juts right in your face. “Since I’m the prince, I’ll have mercy on you. We can play servant and king.” “What’s servant and king?” “I’m the king.” His thumb pokes himself and then he’s back to pointing right between your eyes again. “You’re the servant. You have to follow me and all my orders or off with your head!” What a little shit. How is this going to be any fun for you?! But you draw an enormous grin on your face, left eye twitching in the process. “Sounds like fun, Your Highness!” He strolls off. “Let’s go, dumb dumb.” Your teeth grit and you inhale a deep breath. It hurts your pride to be insulted by a literal seven year old, but you can handle it. When it comes to life or death, you’ll easily befriend the hero. “Fetch that stick, peasant!” The prince points at the distance and looks at you expectedly. Your teeth grit. But you muster a smile and dash forward. When it comes to life or death, you’ll befriend the hero……….probably. “Here you go, Your Highness.” You present the stick to him with both hands and the brat smirks. A rush of air leaves his nose and then he takes the stick. You’re not sure what to expect, but your entire body freezes when he hurls it as far as his arms can go. He points between your brows a second later. “Go get it!” Motherfucker. “Yes!” Once Jungkook’s tired of having you fetch like a dog, you trail after him closely. The green hedges are triple your size, acting like corridors of the garden before they open up to certain areas filled with beds of flowers or a fountain. Some paths are unpaved, so you listen to the crunch of rocks underneath his shoes amidst the quiet. When you’re not out of breath and running at his command, it finally sinks in that it’s the first time you’re with a main character of the game. For the seven years of this lifetime thus far, there was only really you. Your parents were supporting characters at best who just took the opportunity to slyly diss the main heroine a few times at royal gatherings. But other than that, you’re currently facing the backside of someone you know a lot about. Who he will become. What his future holds. What his desires are. You pipe up, “Prince Jungkook—” “That’s Your Highness, peasant!” You clench your jaw. “Your Highness…” “What?” You quicken your steps until you’re beside him and he turns his head. “I’ll support you forever if you want to fall in love with anyone! I don’t care about being the crown princess or the queen!” For good measure, you flash a wink and a thumbs up. “What?” His boyish face is twisted up in disgust. “Why would a peasant be a queen?” You hold in your sigh. “I’m just saying. If we ever get engaged or something, it can always be annulled when we’re older. So feel free to love on, Your Highness. Make love, not war!” Your words completely fly over Jungkook’s head. His face reads that he has no clue what you’re talking about. And he turns away from you. “You’re weird.” You scoff. You’re not sure how you can become friendly with a seven year old when you’re internally twenty years older than he is. If you had chocolate on you, you’d use that as a bargaining chip. But clearly, you only have your body, brain and the surroundings at the moment…. What do seven year old boys like? What do they like? As you scan your surroundings, your eye catches something in the bushes. You stop and get closer. At the same time, Jungkook realizes you’re not following him anymore and turns around. “What are you doing, peasa—” His words are cut short by a shrill shriek of absolute terror. Your brows furrow and you thrust your hand closer to him. “It’s a ladybug.” The tiny red and black polka dotted bug is crawling in your hand. Jungkook screams again. He’s stumbling back, nearly tripping onto his butt, doe eyes reflected with complete horror as if you just chopped off his mom’s head. “Get that thing away from me!” his voice cracks up and down two different octaves and realizing his weakness, you grin. You know your plan was to seem as harmless as possible, but it’s just too much fun teasing him. “What thing, Your Highness? Your servant is merely showing you a small forest creature.” “No! Stop!” He scrambles and starts running away. You chase after him while giggling manically. “Prince Jungkook! Where are you going!” “Get the bug away from me!” He turns over his shoulder with eyeballs nearly falling out of their sockets, face bright red, and you take the opportunity to toss the ladybug at him. Jungkook’s shrieks echo, pitched and earsplitting. You’re forced to stop with how hard you’re laughing and by then, he’s ran for the hills, completely gone from sight. Oh god. You can’t believe he’s so scared. You can’t believe you were so scared — he’s just a kid. Your giggles taper off as you wander the gardens by yourself. It’s freeing to stroll at your own pace without a brat demanding you to fetch sticks or barking at you to do this and that. It’s a chance to finally admire the surroundings. You’re sure the first time Anastasia saw the castle, it became her dream home. The place is similar to the aesthetic background graphics of the game and it was always described as beautiful by all the characters. And it really is that way. But this is also the place of her demise and possibly yours. You’re sure the only time you’ll be able to enjoy the palace and be this carefree is right now. You’re admiring the blooming carnations, peony and roses as you turn the corner. The figure standing by the sprouting fountain doesn’t register until after a delayed moment and your eyes lift to see a woman — mysterious in her gray dress. It’s simple attire, but the fabrics are layered on top of one another, light enough that they drape down and flow to the breeze. Her brunette hair is tied into a bun and as if she feels the pressure of your eyes, her bright irises turn towards you. You realize you’re staring and you blink several times, approaching her politely. She pulls her charcoal shawl closer to her and smiles. The light wrinkles around her kind eyes crease. “Are you lost, child?” You shake your head. “No. I’m just looking.” She crouches down to match your height, gazing at you tenderly. “Where are your parents?” “My dad’s talking to the King.” You point off in the distance as curiosity eats at you. She doesn’t look like an ordinary worker but not a visitor of the castle either. “I’m Anastasia.” She searches your expression as if she’s endeared by you. “That’s a beautiful name.” “Thanks! Who’re you?” She’s soft-spoken, voice above a quiet murmur, “My name is Erena Robane.” You frown. The name rings a bell. “Lady Robane?” “No.” Her laugh tinkles. “I’m no lady.” Before you can press your mind any further and pick apart your brain at why her name sounds so familiar, she reaches into the small pouch she was carrying and hands you a wrapped piece of candy. “Would you like one?” Your eyes light up at the pink square. “Yes, please!” You know better, as an internal twenty seven year old, than to take candy from strangers, but the Duke and Duchess never give you any sweets. So you’ll happily take what you can. Erena smiles and drops the treat into your outstretched palm. Not wanting to risk getting it confiscated by Edith, Joan or your mother if you brought it home, you quickly unwrap it and throw it into your mouth. It’s peppermint and it’s pretty damn good. The woman looks at you patiently, waiting for a reaction, so you give her a thumbs up and a “Yummy!” She laughs faintly. “Do you like candy?” “Yep!” You hold out both hands as if you’re trick-or-treating. “Can I have another one, please?” Might as well seize the chance while you can. It’s a dog-eat-dog world. “You have very good manners.” She smiles, taking another out of her endless pouch and dropping it in your hand. Oh man, you’re starting to really like this lady. “My son likes chocolate, but I only managed to get candy for today.” You chew the hard candy in your cheek, crunching down on it. You hope it rots your teeth and makes Edith’s life a living nightmare when she has to deal with it. “Your son?” Her lips part to speak. But she’s interrupted— “Mom?” By sheer coincidence and coincidence itself, a boy with floppy, brown hair turns the corner of the garden. Thin lips, but chubby cheeks and bright eyes of deep mocha. You’ve known him the second your eyes have laid on him. A younger form of the person you fear most. Taehyung. You gasp and immediately spin around, hoping he didn’t see you, pretending you didn’t see him. “I have to go now!” Before Taehyung’s mom can utter another word, you run away. You don’t notice how Taehyung slows as well, brows furrowed at your receding form. To see Jungkook is one thing. But to see Taehyung, the one who will use, coerce and lead you to your doom, is another. Jungkook handed down your judgment, but Taehyung is the one who led you there. He’s the villain. // “You did decently,” your mother informs a few days after the whole affair. “We might have to go to the palace more often from now on.” You nod, unable to dwell in her approval, mind still lost in a daze. Taehyung — a half prince born a year before Jungkook. He has the blood of a royal with his father as the King, but his mother is merely a palace maid. You remember that he seeks revenge for her death after she’s poisoned by the jealous Queen. But if she’s still alive, that means it’ll happen soon. This year. Springtime. You’re slowly recalling the details of the event, the catalyst that begins Taehyung’s descent into madness, how he became the game’s villain. But you can’t involve yourself. You just can’t. You shouldn’t have met any of them in the first place. You shouldn’t get entangled in their story, in their lives. If you want to live, if you want to survive, you have to avoid Taehyung at all costs. So you can’t. You can’t. Can’t. A day passes as you focus on your studies. You can’t. Another two days goes by, six meals eaten. Can’t— On the seventh, your silver spoon clanks noisily against the porcelain bowl, slipping from your grasps, dropping downwards in your deep trance that throbs your temples. Joan turns at the ruckus and you look at her, already standing up. “I have to go to the castle.” The guilt eating at you has won its battle. “Pardon me?” “Today. Right now.” You rush out of the room and down the hall, determination set in your strides. Maybe you can avoid this. Maybe if you do, he won’t become the game’s villain. Then he won’t be a threat to you, and you won’t be a threat to anyone. You’ll live and so will his mom who’s done nothing wrong. The maid struggles to catch up to you. “My lady! Please! Wait! What do you mean?” “I forgot something really important!” “Y-You can’t just go. My lady! You must ask permission from the Duke and Duchess!” “There’s no time to.” You’ve never been more serious and somber. There isn’t an inch of mischief, no childish selfishness. Twenty seven years has amounted to this very moment. And you use your status as the Duke’s daughter to command the girl. “Come with me. If the Duke or Duchess gets mad, I’ll take the blame.” Joan sighs, annoyed as she looks around as if someone else could reason with you. But as you turn to her, looking her dead in the eye, she shifts on her feet and hesitantly calls for a carriage. You’re in it before you can blink again. There must be time. There hasn’t been any news yet. No reports of a death in the castle. You can warn him. You can avoid this tragedy. “We’re here, my lady,” Joan informs, peering out the window at the enormous stone walls and towers looming high above the clouds. The carriage doors open and she guides you out. Your feet land onto the cobblestone. But there isn’t any welcome. No guards that ask what your business here is. No servant passing by. Instead, there’s chaos in the distance. Your head whips to the noise and Joan shouts as you dash off towards it. Yet no one notices you in the midst of the pandemonium. No one would pay mind to a small child. You’re left to linger in the open halls, butlers that quickly walk past, maids whispering amongst themselves— “Did you hear?” Your head turns towards two girls. “The King’s mistress just died!” You came a moment too late.

No one cries. The arrangement is short and unluxurious, the bare minimum of what would be acceptable for a royal family. A priestess in front drones on impassively about the afterlife, but as you look around, no one grieves. After all, they wouldn’t shed tears for a mere maid. This is merely a charade to quell away scandalous rumors and to give nobles an excuse to come to the castle and be acknowledged. You’re overwhelmed in black, a tulle skirt and puffed sleeves. Your parents stand on either side of you, your father in a jacket with the house’s emblem and your mother with a veil covering the right side of her face. Like many others, your family has come for appearance sakes. But for you, it’s different. The woman inside the closed casket has shown you a kindness that you so seldom receive. And because of your hesitation, because of your self-preservation and selfishness, this happened. Once the burial ceremony is over, your parents mingle amongst the nobles, laughing cordially behind gloved hands as you follow after them and cutesy. It feels like you’re a show pony, brought around to show what the future of the Devereux looks like. But after a while, you manage to slip away from the scrutiny. And by sheer coincidence and coincidence only, you find him. At first it’s the noise of heart wrenching sobs. It’s unrestrained wails and choked hiccups in between that attracts your attention. You twist through the familiar hedge corridors and the moment you turn the corner, your eyes lift to a small figure underneath an oak tree. He sits alone. He cries to himself. The boy with floppy, brown hair has his knees pulled together. He incessantly rubs at his eyes as if that alone could stop the tears that well and pour. He cries enough for the tens of people at the funeral, substituting their apathy with his anguish. His entire body wracks and the moment he whimpers “m-mom” in-between, it’s shaking to your core. This is the beginning. The start of his path of destruction. In this entire castle that stretches across the horizon, only his mother ever loved him. The half-prince. The Forgotten Prince. The one dirtied by regular red blood, not blue enough for the golden crown. Taehyung mourns, vision blurred by his grief. But as he rubs his eyes with his small fists, black shoes appear between the gaps of his hands. He looks up. Your arm is extended in front of him. Taehyung looks down to your folded, pink handkerchief. He looks stunned for a moment, as if he’s surprised that there was someone here. That someone actually heard him. That someone came. He takes your handkerchief and sniffles. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. Sorry that she passed away, that he has to endure this, that you didn’t save her when you could’ve. This isn’t just a game you’re playing anymore. All these people aren’t just characters. You’re living a new life. And all these people have emotions, desires, thoughts of their own. You’re not sure how you can comfort Taehyung. What you can say to make it better. “Your mother loved you a lot. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to be crying so much by yourself.” He hiccups, snivelling uncontrollably. “B-But if I don’t cry for her, who will?” You don’t know what to say. Tears continue to slip down his cheeks and as you linger awkwardly, you decide there isn’t much that you can say. So you sit beside him. You sit underneath the canopy of the tree and branches of rustling leaves, on the soft bed of grass, looking out at the garden. This is all you can do. You don’t notice the way Taehyung looks up in-between his mourning, glossy eyes pinpointed on the profile of your face. The pair of you sit next to one another in the silence of his sniffles until it levels. Until he can breathe again— “Anastasia!” There’s a sharp call of your name, one that can only belong to your mother. You immediately come to your feet again as if a dog whistle has been blown. But as you hurry away, you turn over your shoulder. Your eyes connect with Taehyung’s brown ones, and for a moment you slow. You leave a second later. You twist down the hedges and turn the corner, nearly bumping straight into her. She looks down at you with her brows furrowed. “Where did you go?” You smile. “I got lost.” It’s futile. You know it now. Trying to avoid the three that will lead you to your demise is like trying to wish you’d suddenly vanish off these lands. You know it won’t be the last time that you see Taehyung. It won’t be the last of Jungkook either. Or whoever the heroine will be. It seems like the more you try to run, the more you inadvertently become involved. But you’ll hold your head up high and face whatever is to come head on.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook scenario #taehyung scenario #jungkook fluff #taehyung fluff #BUT WHO'S GONNA BE THE ENDGAME GUY HMMMM?

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tttrashmouth · 4 years

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moonstone!varian au

- varian’s dad found the moonstone flower when his wife was dying and thought it might heal like he heard the sundrop did

- spoiler alert: it didn’t

- but now varian was born with a blue streak in his hair so he’s now the moonstone

- the baron gets word of a child who was born to a flower that was similar to the one the lost princess was and thinks oh well, guess i’m gonna kidnap a child

- so the baron plans to just take him like rupunzel was taken but quirin waskes up in the middle of the night and catches him in the act

- because they don’t live in a castle theres no window to jump out of, so to escape the baron murders quirin

- because varian is so young we keeps him in his own home, locked in a tiny room, until he can find a place to keep varian

- when varian is like a year old old he finds an abandoned tower near his home and decides to keep him there

- so varian ends up there and the baron uses varians magic to create unbreakable weapons by using the moonstone incantation (the one cass sings in cassandra’s revenge)

- growing up varian doesn’t really know the extent of his powers because he’s only ever used them to make weapons for the baron out of the black rocks

- the baron wants to keep varian on his good side so he gets things varian wants and does a lot for him, he just warns him to never leave the tower because people would kill him for his magic

- varian thinks his parents abandoned him and the baron took him in after the fact

- so he’s still super into alchemy and when he’s 13 he’s reading a book that the baron got him about a certain type of plant that will bloom for the first time in 200 years and is like i NEED to try this

- and of course he’s 13, going on 14 in like 3 days, so he decides well i’m sure if i’m only gone like two days dad won’t mind

- (at this point for raps and the gang the same amount of time from the series has passed, except without the events because the black rocks don’t exist for them)

- so he uses his powers to create a way out of the tower and goes on his merry way with a bag of essentials (read: almost all alchemy stuff with little food) and ruddiger, who varian got as a pet when he was like 10

- the baron is obviously very pissed when he finds out and sets out after him, but since the baron isn’t always at the tower varian has about a days headstart on him

- so the plant blooms in corana and on his way there he finds his way to old corana

- he asks around to see if theres any places i the town where people do alchemy and doesn’t find any, but he meets an old man who tells him about a woman who studied alchemy before she died

- the old man tells him where she used to live and varian is like well maybe i’ll just take one tiny peek inside and see if theres anything useful in there

- once inside he starts looking around and finds it empty, he was just gonna leave but something bright flashed in his eye and he found a secret entrance to a basement under the house

- so he goes down and sees all of this alchemy stuff this woman used and starts to investigate what everything is

- he finds her journals and starts to read them, but realizes he needs to sleep and then get going again in the morning, so he puts them in his bag to read later

- during the night the baron catches up to him and of course the people of the town know who the notorious kingpin The Baron is so they are terrified

- he gets told that they saw the kid, but he left hours ago, which they don’t know is true but they haven’t seen varian in awhile so they just guess

- the baron and co. search the houses and find no hint of him so they leave town and head closer and closer to corona

- so varian wakes up the next day and heads out, not really sure why people kept avoiding him

- he soon finds himself in corona and is really surprised by how nice everyone has been on the journey so far considering the horror stories he heard from the baron

- so rapunzel sees varian and is like oh a person i haven’t met before and also a child wandering the streets oh no

- she introduces herself to him and she shows him around and since he’s very obviously a traveler, asks him what he’s doing there so he just explains the plant and everything

- because she didn’t really have anything to do that day she offered to go with him so he wasn’t alone and she knew her way around better then him

- so varian makes every bone in her body Scream protect this child so she offers him lunch and a place to clean himself up so off the the castle they go

- because of who they are eugene and cass are like i’m not sure about this one blondie

- she ignores them

- so varian gets all cleaned up and him, rapunzel, eugene, cass, and lance sit down together for lunch

- yea i’m totally 16 years old, 100% not 13

- so they eat and chat and all is well until rupunzel gets called away and when she comes back she’s like stressed out because of course they can’t just have one relaxing day

- she informs them that someone from old corona pulled up and was like umm the baron just came to our city looking for this boy and the kid might be in trouble

- varian hears and is terrified because if his dad and co. were looking for him he was in huge trouble for leaving

- so when raps and co. go to handle the situation rapunzel tells varian to stay there and he just smiles and nods, but the second that they’re gone he Books It

- he finds his way to an abandoned building and sets up shop for the night

- he takes out the journal and starts to read and of course the womans journal eventually start talking about a flower that fell from the sky, the brought unbreakable rocks, and that could shield people from death

- at the same time the group got the small group of people from old corona to give a description of the boy and the group realizes its varian

- so they race back to where it is and realize he’s gone and cass and eugene jump to the conclusion that varian is working for the baron and was there to get information from them

- rapunzel doesn’t believe that because he’s a child, a child who very clearly is lying about his age

- she realizes that no matter what, he was too excited about the plant to not go harvest some, so rapunzel, lance, cass, and eugene go hide in wait for him

- back with varian he realizes that the flower this woman is talking about has the powers he has

- towards the middle of the journal the handwriting changes, it talks about a man whose wife died in childbirth, but she gave birth to a child who had blue eyes, and when he was upset unbreakable black rocks would form around him

- it got more and more paranoid as it came to a close, about how he thought he saw a large man with blonde hair watching their house, how he swore one day after him and his child came home the house had been broken it to

- varian is panicking at the end because the journal stops so suddenly when talking about this thing, the moonstone

- he decides to internalize it and not think about it

- he stays there until it gets dark and then goes to get the plant, if he was quick enough his father might not catch him and then he could get back to the tower

- he approach’s the area where he knows some of the plant will be and then he gets chills

- he hears footsteps behind him and when he turns around he is face to face with the baron

- so raps and the gang watch from a far, waiting to swoop in and save varian, but varian and the barons conversation stops them

- the baron is all like i told you to never leave the tower, the world is dangerous and people will just take advantage of you

- varian gets mad because he spent 13, no 14 years of his life trapped in a tower because he thought it was dangerous and most people were so nice to him

- so varian calls him on it

- so they end up in a weird screaming match and the baron goes to grab varian and rapunzel goes in to fight or flight mode and is like leave him alone

- varian is confused because she was there, she was furious because it looked like this grown man was gonna hurt a child, and the baron was angry because they were interfering with his plans

- cass, eugene, and lance bust out after her and get ready to fight and the barons crew comes to help him, all while varian is on the verge of a panic attack because the world is so much better than he thought, his dad (???) might be a terrible person, and his parents might not have abandoned him

- his powers might also make him evil

- so almost at the same time the baron and rapunzel try to grab him to bring him to their side and he loses it

- black rocks shoot out of the ground at both sides, sending them flying and varian’s just like

- fuck

#moonstone!varian #except hes born with the powers like rapunzel #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #rapunzels tangled adventure #varian #varian tangled #rapunzel #eugene fitzherbert #cassandra tangled #lance tangled #the baron tangled #moonstone #long post #tl;dr #varian is the moonstone and is Fucked Up #fic ideas #theos moonstone!varian verse

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nocturna-iv · 4 years

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Descendants & Beauty and the Beast (2017)

This is one of the reasons why I think that in part (if not totally) Descendants is based on the Disney Remakes than the original movies (and I know D1 came before... But, you know. Just makes sense):

For me, King Adam and Queen Belle are the best examples.

We all remember the original movie. For many, this was the movie that marked them for a long time in their childhood. And it was the movie that revolutionized Disney in hundreds of ways. Belle in the original movie is a very kind-hearted and intelligent character. An intellectual who uses compassion as one of her best weapons. And Beast is a character who succumbed to pain, loneliness, and abandonment that constantly haunts himself until Belle comes into his life and makes him feel human again. This is the kind of movie that can be analyzed in hundreds of ways and many people have done better than me.

But ... the Belle & Beast from the remake seem to be Ben's parents.

Let's start with Belle's town. In the remake, they are indifferent, ignorant, and even malicious people in front of someone good and intellectual. They don't even have a real bookstore/library. Belle is the only girl who reads there. The attitude of the people in the town is very similar to the attitude we see in the people who live on the Island of the Lost. And it is a good example of how a lack of interest in education is normal in Adam's kingdom and you can see it on the island too. In Descendants, Beast sent a good teacher there and only because he wanted the descendants to learn to use technology. And at the same time, he completely nullified access to good technology in there. But that's another topic. The rest of the teachers are villains. There wasn't even a guarantee that the descendants had an education. Belle's town (from Adam's kingdom) and the island are similar.

Next, let's think about Belle from the remake. She's not very expressive. And I don't mean the performance level or the acting. I'm talking about the character. Her temperament is more docile and resigned. In the town, the people constantly push her and she accepts it. When in the original movie, Belle was too deep into her world to see the quiet country life. The Belle from the remake doesn't think a lot. From the second she offers to stay at the Beast's castle looks pretty chill about it. I mean, this Belle knew that the servants would become inanimate objects and die, but still, she continued to live relaxed in the castle and then totally abandoned them. With that in mind, it's more credible that the Belle from the remake wouldn't stop her husband from doing everything he did with Auradon and the island. She may argue with her husband, but just like in the movie, she wouldn't be combative. Not even for compassion.

And... this Beast/Adam. From the beginning, you see the huge difference between the character in the original movie and the remake. In the original movie, when Beast is deciding to make Belle stay in the castle, he is seen to hesitate. This is his opportunity, but he understands the complications of the matter. Belle, in the original, is also slow to accept, considering all angles before offering her life. In the remake, Belle immediately offers to take her father's place and Belle locks herself up. And Beast doesn't stop her. He didn't even think about the ramifications of this. In the original movie, it's Beast who, seeing Belle sad, offers her a better room and he really tries to be nice and sympathize with Belle until they talked about the West Wing. From the beginning, we know that the Beast is a character who has been through a lot. He isn't the villain. We know that. In the remake, it's Lumiere and Cogsworth who take Belle and give her a better room. This Beast was very willing to leave Belle in a cell. Remember this, the Beast of the remake was outraged that the daughter of a thief was in a good room. His servants had to remind him that she could break the spell. If you tell me that this is the same character who believes that the descendants of villains also deserve to be locked up in deplorable conditions, I would believe you! Also, the Beast of the original has a human side, he will be a brute for isolation, but he has feelings. The Beast of the remake is pushy, self-centered, and violent many times. This Beast was molded from a young age to be selfish and twisted like his father. Which would make sense for King Adam, even with good intentions, believe that his son Ben must be like him in every aspect. And another thing, the Beast from the remake doesn't give Belle the library as a gift, to make her happy. No, he brags of his library and criticizes Belle's taste in literature, so he decides to "educate her better" because obviously, he knows more about what is better for her. Doesn't this ring a bell in your heads with all the reign in Descendants? King Adam thinks he knows what is best for everyone and every kingdom.

Not to mention that in the remake the Enchantress not only turned the servants into objects that could die. Rather, she separated them from their families for years and erased their memory. When your Enchantress (one of the good ones) is so twisted and evil, it's no wonder that the Island of the Lost was born. I can almost imagine Adam consulting the Enchantress if the place is a good idea. And she said “Do you know what an excellent idea would be? Revive the dead villains and lock them up.”

Oh! And in the remake, Adam maintains certain characteristics of when he was a beast (like when he growls coquettishly at Belle). In Descendants both, Adam and Ben, have that.

For me, there is no doubt that Ben is the son of this Adam and Belle. Honestly, it's a miracle that our boy turned out the way he did.

#descendants #d2 #descendants 2 #descendants 3 #d3 #beauty and the beast #King Adam #Queen Belle #ben descendants #ben florian #king ben

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allisondraste · 4 years

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Temperance 32/42

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary: Liss makes an important decision.

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

[AO3 LINK]

Highever, 9:27 Dragon

Dear Nate,

Every year I tell myself that this will be the last year I write to you, but here I am writing another hopeless letter, wondering if you’ll even read it, wondering if you even care. I’ve started to question whether you ever cared. This is not how friends treat one another... unless they’re imaginary, of course.

Andraste’s arse. Nate, are you imaginary? No, no. My imaginary friends still write to me.

Kidding.

Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be utterly shocked to know that I miss you. I thought I would stop eventually, but no such luck. The pain dulls each year, but I don’t think it will ever go away completely. I pray that you are well, and far happier than I am, out on your glorious adventure. I’m envious of you, and I’m envious of those who get to be near you.

I know I shouldn’t feel that way, that I should be angry and resentful that you’re ignoring me, but that’s not me. The day I stop caring about you is the day I die. I just wish that weren’t such a lonely thing to feel.

Have a good year, Nate.

Love,

Liss

Liss dropped her quill, and lifted the parchment from her desk, biting her bottom lip as she reread the letter. More and more tears welled in her eyes with each word, grasp on the page tightening, fingers crumpling the edges. She debated wadding in up entirely and tossing it into the fireplace. Why not? It would save Nate the trouble of doing it himself. Then again, she was stubbornly devoted to not giving up on him.

Taking a deep breath, she sat the parchment down and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes and scrubbing the tears from her cheeks. Suddenly a chill rushed up her spine as a presence appeared behind her, hot breath on her neck, hands on her arms, a trail of soft kisses from her shoulder to her ear.

“It’s too early,” whispered a low voice, “Come back to bed.”

She couldn’t remember his name, some second son of some minor lord from some small town in the bannorn, but he nipped at her ear again, and she bit back the urge to slap him. She’d been a little drunk—and more than a little sad— the night before, and he happened to be visiting Highever, willing and eager to distract and entertain the daughter of one of the most powerful men in Ferelden. Liss had learned that most people were, a fact of which she had taken complete, unapologetic advantage.

“Give me a moment,” she said, painting on a smile and turning around to look at the frustratingly nameless man. Why couldn’t she have had the decency to remember it? Even without the lens of intoxication that so often made people attractive, he was beautiful. So much so, that he should have been carved in marble and used as decoration in the home of some posh Orlesian widow. He was tall and fair, with dusty brown curls and green eyes that were perfectly symmetrical, and should definitely be painted on the cover of some risqué book like those Mother kept hidden around the castle, pretending she was discreet. Liss should have been thrilled at his tender attention, and yet in the dim rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains, he wasn’t who she wanted him to be.

The marble statue man lingered behind her, very obviously attempting to read what she was writing. “A letter?”

“No,” Liss teased, “It’s a shopping list.”

“A shopping list that says ‘Dear Nate’ at the top?” He tilted his head and smiled at her good-naturedly. Thank the Maker this one actually seemed nice.

Pulling the parchment in toward her chest to protect it from the nosey man Liss asked, “Do you make a habit of reading people’s postage?”

“Just when it is keeping a beautiful woman from lying beside me.” He ran his hand along the side of her face, wiping away a stray tear she’d been unable to dry herself. “And causing her to cry so early in the morning.”

“You noticed.”

“I am an observant man, my lady.”

Relaxing, Liss eased the letter down from her chest and sat it on the desk. “Don’t ever fall in love, uh—“

“Dareios.”

“How could I forget a name like that?”

“We didn’t exactly talk about it.” Dareios smirked.

“Right,” Liss said, clearing her throat as the heat rushed to her face. She shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“You’re not the first person I’ve slept with to make myself feel better,” she explained, rising from her chair and turning to face him, “But you’re the first person who’s been kind enough that I feel guilty about it. So, I apologize. If you wish to leave, and spread horrible rumors about me, I wouldn’t blame you.

“Did it work,” Dareios asked, reaching forward and taking her hands in his.

“What?” She eyed him with confusion and he only smiled, revealing the dimples in his cheeks.

“Did it make you feel better, my lady?”

Liss met his eyes and returned his smile. “Not really.”

“Then it seems I have not done a proper job.” He brought her hands up to his lips and pressed a kiss to each of them. “I still have a few hours until I leave, if you’ll have me.”

She knew she should decline, send him on his way, but loneliness echoed in her chest, one name, one person over and over again. Her heart would hear nothing else. Still, perhaps a kind stranger with a warm embrace and gentle touch could drown it all out for a few more hours, just long enough so that she might feel like herself again. She nodded and closed her eyes, allowing him to move in more closely and kiss her and lead her back to bed.

Then, there was a knock at the door, several haphazard raps followed by a, “Sis?”

Liss shot up, eyes widening and turned to Dareios. “You have to hide,” she whispered and began to look around the room.

“Why?”

“My family will not be pleased that I slept with another of our guests.” She stood up and pointed at the floor beneath the bed. “Here, you should be able to crawl under here.”

“Are you serio—“

Liss shushed him and pressed a finger to his lips. “Please?”

He laughed and crawled out of bed, and she realized he was wearing nothing but his smalls—even more incriminating were Fergus to find him. He got down on the floor and slid under the bed. It was a tight squeeze, but it would only be a moment. At least, she hoped.

“Liss, I know you’re in there,” Fergus called through the door, “Open up.”

“Coming,” she shouted as she grabbed a robe, tied it around her, and rushed to answer the door. She swung it open forcefully and glared at her brother, unable to hide her annoyance. “Can’t a girl take a bath in peace?”

Fergus grinned and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it these days?”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” she huffed indignantly.

“The visiting Bann is looking for his son,” he said, words pointed directly at her.

“Are you suggesting that I would know where he is?” It was a flimsy defense, and she knew it.

“ Liss. ”

“ Fergus.”

“I am only suggesting that if you happen to see him— oh, I don’t know— when he crawls out from under your bed, it might be a good idea to tell him to find his father before his father finds him,” Fergus raised his eyebrows and lowered his voice, “And before our parents find him.”

Liss nodded slowly, looking her brother directly in the eyes, and he offered her a reassuring smile as a promise her secrets were safe with him. They always had been. “If I see him, I will certainly let him know.”

“I will do my best to make sure your future baths are not interrupted.”

“Thank you, brother.”

“Don’t mention it.”

With that, Fergus turned and walked back down the corridor leaving Liss to close the door. Behind her she could hear Dareios crawling from under the bed and shuffling about, most likely in search of his clothes.

“I suppose you heard that,” Liss asked giggling as she turned to face the now half-dressed man.

“I did,” he replied with a sheepish smile, as he laced up his breeches, “My father seems to have forgotten that I am no longer a little boy.”

Liss sighed. “I know how that feels more than you know.”

Dareios pulled on his shirt and sat down on the edge of the bed to pull on his stockings and boots. “Your brother seems to be a good man.”

“He’s always had my back, even when I’m completely wrong, totally reckless, and having my back is the worst idea,” she admitted, “He’s the best. But don’t tell him I said so.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said earnestly as he finished lacing up his last boot. He stood and walked over to Liss, placing his hands first on her shoulders before bringing them up to cradle her face. “You are a beautiful person, Lady Elissa, inside and out. The only thing I regret about our night together is that there won’t be another.”

Liss’ breath hitched in her throat, and she fought back the tears that welled in her eyes. He was perfect, in every single way. She should have been begging him to stay, she should have promised him another night, many other nights. Yet, she couldn’t. She was neither worthy nor wanting of perfect. Instead, she smiled and brought one of her hands up to cover his. “Thank you for spending time with me Lord Dareios.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, kissing her forehead before taking his hands from her face and moving to exit the room. He stopped in the doorway and turned back to face her. “I hope that ‘Nate’ of yours wakes up and realizes what a treasure he has.”

“I am no treasure, but I appreciate your words all the same,” Liss said weakly, “Thank you.”

She waved as he left, and closed the door quietly behind him, pressing her back to it and sliding down until she sat on the ground. She let her face fall to her hands, tears dripping from her eyes. It would be so much easier for her if she could just love someone else, but she did not know where to start, or how. Her first and only experience with love had happened so organically and subtly, it had woven itself into every part of her life that it was impossible to tell where it began or when it ended. She could not even be bothered to consider another person, even a person as wonderful as Dareios was.

This was Nate’s fault, she thought, looking up and catching a glimpse of the bow her family had crafted for him propped up in the corner of the room. If he could just write her back, and tell her once and for all that he didn’t love her. If he could just confirm that he found her letters annoying and unwelcome. If he could just be blunt and honest for once in his life, then maybe, just maybe she could let him go. As it was, she knew him too well to be so certain that his silence meant rejection. She’d seen his face light up too many times when she’d forced herself into his presence after he’d told her to go away to think that the same couldn't happen still. Sacrifice of her dignity though it may be, she knew she wouldn’t let go or move on truly until he released her. Thus, her current agony was his doing alone, and the realization allowed for anger where before there’d been only sadness. Damn him.

Liss stood abruptly and rushed to the desk, pulled out a fresh piece of parchment, and penned an entirely new letter to Nate.

Dear Nate,

Every year I tell myself that it will be the last year I write a hopeless letter to you as if you will read it. Every year, I tell myself that even if I don’t hear from you, it still matters. It’s something I should do as your friend, and as someone who cares about you. I am writing to you this time, to tell you that I won’t be doing that anymore. I am tired of writing letters into the void and wondering if you still care about me like I still care about you.

This is not how friends treat one another, Nate. You know that. I can’t even begin to understand how someone I grew up with, someone who I’ve known my whole life could ignore me. Unless it was all a lie. Unless you were just some figment of my imagination. Andraste’s arse. Are you imaginary?

Kidding.

If you ever decide that you care about me after all, you know how to reach me.

I wish you all the best.

Love,

Liss

With one quick read of the letter, feeling confident in her words, Liss folded it and placed it in an envelope for Papa to send out later. She threw on a shirt and breeches that hung so loosely she knew they must have been old clothes that Fergus had grown out of. Good enough, since she was in no mood to be uncomfortable in some dress. Then, she trudged over to the corner of the room, picked up his bow, and headed out into the corridor.

It took no time for her to reach Nate’s room, or at least the one that used to be his. For so long, it had been a place of refuge and comfort for her, yet it had been so long since she’d even visited it. She couldn’t bring herself to go inside and only see ghosts of him, shadows of his smell, the dusty untouched books, the chest that still had a few of his things in it. She’d feared it would overwhelm her if she opened the door, as if a wave of sadness would burst forth from behind the wood and drown her. She would not be scared anymore. She’d leave his bow there, with all the other disparate pieces of him and close it away, out of sight unless she wanted to see it again.

Gripping the bow so tightly her knuckles turned white, Liss entered the room. It looked exactly as it had the last time she’d been in it. Tidy. Empty. Cobwebs collected in corners and the sconces were all flameless. She sat the bow down on the bed and grabbed a torch from the hall to light those in the room. She walked about the space, taking everything in, remembering the times she’d spent sitting on the floor with him, talking, laughing, crying. She remembered the night they first met. She remembered all the times she’d come there to hide from the world, to just be herself.

Plopping down on the edge of the bed, she took the bow in her hands once more, running her fingers along the engravings in the wood, the letter “N.” Anger swelled in her chest and she tightened her grasp around the bow. She’d done nothing but care for him, and she knew it wasn’t his choice to leave, but he couldn’t even have the decency to write her back. He left her hanging out on a limb for him and her arms were getting so tired. She still loved him and yet she was so angry with him and it felt so much better than empty. She held the bow up and out in front of her before slamming it down against her knee. It snapped in half, and she tossed it across the floor.

Almost immediately, she regretted it, as she stared at the jagged pieces of wood, once whole, now connected only by the string attached to each piece. It could be repaired, of course. All of the parts were still there, but it was no longer what it was, and it would never be the same again. It was oddly poetic.

This was the kind of situation where Liss would have typically cried, dropping her head and letting the sobs shake her body, but she couldn’t. She felt numb, as if by breaking that bow, she had broken herself completely. She sat staring blankly at the stone of the floor for sometime, until there was a polite knock at the door before it swung open. It was Fergus, again, Oren in his arms and Bear at his side.

Bear immediately pushed past the door and sat near the bed, tilting his head and looking up at Liss. Oren shouted “Auntie,” and Fergus let him down so that he could run to her. Smiling vacantly, she picked him up and sat him on her lap.

“I think Bear saw you come in here. Wouldn’t let me have any peace ‘til I let him in. Oren wanted to tag along,” Fergus said with a laugh, and then he noticed the broken bow on the ground, eyes widening before he looked back up at her. “You okay, Liss?”

“No,” she answered flatly, wrapping one arm around Oren tightly, cuddling him up close to her until he giggled. With her free hand she reached down to pet Bear. “But I will be.”

It was not only an acknowledgement of the one-way trajectory that led from rock bottom, but also a promise to herself, to her family, that the past would be exactly what it was meant to be: the past.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age awakening #nathaniel howe #nathaniel howe x cousland #cousland #temperance #update #my writing #ONLY TEN CHAPTERS LEFT AHHH

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constantlyconfusedvi · 4 years

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Y’all wanna know what my updated thoughts on Reylo are? No? I don’t care.

Rey and Kylo Ren met for the first time in the middle of the First Order invading Maz Kanata’s castle. Then he kidnapped her and proceeded to prod and torture her for information on BB-8. Torture. Her. It ain’t romantic y’all. Then he killed her father figure, and his actual father, Han Solo, in front of her, before chasing them outside and battling her and Finn. He throws her against a tree, guys. And manipulates her into trying to join him. She defeats him and leaves him for dead.

The Last Jedi. They meet during Force Skype and she tries to kill him. More Force Skype. She calls him a murderous snake. He tells her to find the real truth. Force Skype pt. 3. Shirtless Kylo telling her to come to him after she gets into a fight with Luke about Kylo’s turn to the dark. In the elevator, she persuades him to join the light, calling him Ben. Throne room. They fight together against Snoke’s guards after Kylo kills Snoke for still unknown reasons. Kylo persuades her to join him again. They attempt to each get the Skywalker saber. Rey leaves while Kylo is unconscious.

They have had 9 encounters over two movies, 4 of which are non violent towards each other, and 3 being the main evidence for Reylos. Even if the non violent encounters, most are still iffy on the moral scale. She obviously hates him in the beginning of TLJ and throughout TFA, but when she learns the truth, she discovers something else in her. There is no possible way, however, for a human to go from blood-boiling, shoot-on-sight hatred, to “ILY sooo much I want your babies” in a few days. Rey would, using common sense, only be interested in him to join the light side. I see it as what it is, someone finds out their enemy is broken and hurt and wants them to become better through friendship and maybe therapy, but also paying for what they’ve done. I think that Reylo is a complicated situation for what it is portrayed as. In a morally right world, it would not be canon ever, but portrayed as someone guiding a lost soul back to the light, PLATONICALLY.

*However, there are extreme amounts of sexual tension in TLJ, and I totally over looked that. They do have some form of physical attraction to each other, and why not? Idk. The elevator scene has so much tension that it could be cut with a light saber. Not to mention the throne room fight. Rian Johnson had an idea for their relationship and ran with it. That movie was more full of sexual tension than Titanic.*

That “Bad boy is restored to good with a kiss by a good girl” trope is unbelievably toxic. Relationships like that are not sustainable or healthy by any means, as they often end in abuse or neglect. Not even to say that Rey has plenty of other relationship options, like Finn(*ok maybe not Finn*)

Reylo is totally fine as an offscreen, crackship that is not portrayed like Twilight, especially to all the little girls who look up to Rey as a role model. What do you think they are gonna do when they are faced with a man like Kylo Ren when they grow up? Fall in love because “oh its okay, its so cute”. Media does influence us, especially as kids and young teens. Seeing a relationship on screen can influence us to think it is okay, especially if it is written to be okay.

Now, the fandom. Jesus Christ on a cracker. Can you all chill the fuck out? Please? You are making this place so hard to have fun in. (*Referring to the people who take it way too far, everyone else is cool*)

I’m into Reylo as a crackship. Yes, I ship it. I think they, aesthetically, are cute together, because I am a bi mess and they are hot as hell. Now, do I want them to be canon? Absolutely fucking not. Fanfics and edits are fine with me, but please keep this ship off the big screen. I feel the same way about Kylux. Crack ship up the wazoo. Do I think they’re cute? In certain fanfics and AU’s, yes! Canon wise? NOOOO.

*But you guys have fun and ship and let ship, I just wanted to rant and put my opinions up on the inter web.*

So, TL;DR

Reylo is fine as a ship if it stays away from the big screen. I ship it too, but in the same way I ship Bubba and Stretch, Momo and Todoroki, and Kylux.

Please debate in the notes

#reylo #anti reylo #star wars #controversial #kylo ren #rey #anti kylo ren #anti bs #shipping #fluff talks #ben solo #bendemption #ships #fandoms #anti

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ijustwant2write · 5 years

Text

Second Impressions-Merlin x Reader

(GIF credit to @fyeahcolinmorgan)

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/N) was raised by witch hunters, she had always been told that the were evil. Having known nothing else but this, (Y/N) carries on her family’s legacy of witch hunting, until she meets one particular sorcerer that could change her mind forever.

Characters: Merlin x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: mentions of death/death penalty, slight violence, arguments, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You remember everything I taught you, alright?” father said, brushing back my hair that fell over my face.

“Yes, it will stay with me forever. If I ever spot a sorcerer I will report them to the king, he deserves to know what is happening within his kingdom. The people need to be safe.”

He sighed with a smile.“I’m proud of you.”

“I’m only going to be a servant in the castle, I’m not of any importance there.”

“No, you are of great importance. You’ll do amazing things no matter what you’re ranking is in life. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I thought back to that moment, smiling fondly. Father had always taken great care of me, especially after mother died. I only left to earn more money for us, there was no good pay in our town, and I wanted to go somewhere new. This was my own story, and I was going to choose the right paths to make my life the best it could be.

However, Camelot seemed to have a lot of problems involving magic, and I couldn’t help but think that I was drawn here for a reason, maybe it was some type of destiny. My town was notoriously known for hunting down and catching people who possessed magic, punishing them in the process. All children knew that sorcerers were manipulating, evil people, that they wanted to take over the world and rid of those who did not have the same curse as them. I had always felt protected by my family, they always helped to hunt down the wrongdoers, and taught me how to defend myself as well as spot someone with magic.

I was never sure if I agreed with the punishments handed out. It used to be death, though now things seemed to be twisted. Some people were let go, others ran away, some ended up being proven innocent. I used to always agree with Uther’s ways, but seeing these people up close, seeing the terrified looks on their faces made me question my beliefs. Then someone would come along and do something undeniable terrible, making me forget any other new feelings I had.

“Merlin, I’m surprised to see you up so early.” I chuckled as he walked into the linen room.

“Why’s that?” he asked, confused as he bundled up bed sheets.

“Gaius said you were in the tavern all night, don’t you have a hangover?”

“Uh, no. No not really. Don’t really get those.” he stuttered slightly, trying to laugh it off.

“Oh, you’re quite lucky then. If I’d spent that much money on booze, my father would kill me.”

“Well, I didn’t spend all my money, some people got rounds in for me too.”

“Hm, OK. I’ve got to get bed making, so I’ll see you later.”

As I brushed past him, neatly folded sheets in my arms, I thought over Merlin’s words. Whenever he disappeared, his excuse seemed to always link back to the tavern. I couldn’t understand how a servant (earning the same amount of money as me) could spend so much and have some left over; and the fact that he never came in with even a small headache seemed suspicious. Gaius was always there with an excuse, as if he had rehearsed it or been told what to say.

And come to think of it, he always came back from quests unscathed (a majority of the time anyway) and he was a servant who knew nothing of fighting; some people were lucky, sure, but after hearing of all their adventures, I would have thought he would have some sort of injury by now, especially as a lot of them involved magic.

I had been taught how to spot a sorcerer from a mile away, however my instincts were being conflicted with personal feelings. Merlin was a kind person, he helped whoever he came across, and had a good judgement. All of the signs were there, I had reasons to believe he had magic. Though I was starting to believe it, I wanted to doubt myself, I didn’t want Merlin to be one of them. If he turned out evil, I didn’t know what I would do. Perhaps he was cursed, maybe he wasn’t born with it and was suffering! For some reason, my conscience wouldn’t accept the fact that he might have magic, that my usual actions couldn’t proceed because he was my friend, because he was a kind soul that had never done anything wrong; and I believed that he couldn’t do so either.

The warning bells suddenly sounded, startling me as I wondered why they were ringing. Sometimes these things were small, other times they could be fatal, but all the time we were never told what was going on. Poking my head out of the chambers I was currently cleaning, I went to ask a guard what was happening but none were there. Unsure of whether to scatter and hide or stay put, I looked down the hallways, hoping that there was someone around to help me. The fact that there was no one around made me anxious, was I supposed to be somewhere too?

“Sir Percival!” I shouted down the hall as I spotted him.

He turned when he heard his name, us both meeting in the middle as we scattered towards each other.“(Y/N), are you alright?”

“Yes, what’s going on?”

“We’ve caught a sorcerer trying to sneak in through the castle walls, he hurt some of our men in the process.”

“Are they alright? Where is everyone?”

“They’re hiding, I’ll take you to them.”

He took my hand as we ran, his sword in the other and his senses heightened. He lead me underground, scurrying down the spiralling, stone steps, only a few torches lighting the way for us. I could hear a crowd of people in the distant as we finally got off the stairs and descended down a long corridor. As we entered a grand hallway, I saw temporary hospital beds, some soldiers lying down with various injuries as servants tended to their wounds.

“Where’s Merlin?” I asked Sir Percival, but he was already gone.

I wasn’t sure where to place myself in all the commotion. This must be serious if we were hiding underground, and by the look of the soldiers injuries, it was easy to see that this sorcerer was powerful. I spotted Gaius mixing up remedies, and knew that it wouldn’t be easy for him to lie his way out of this one. Although I felt bad for taking advantage of the terrible situation, I wasn’t going to have many opportunities to catch him off guard.

“Gaius!” I called out, catching him before he attended a patient.

A wave of relief washed over him“(Y/N), thank goodness you’re alright! Here, you can help us with the soldiers-”

“Where’s Merlin?”

I only just caught the glimpse of hesitation in his words.“Well, he’s probably helping Arthur. You know the boy always gets himself in dangerous situations at times like these.”

“Shouldn’t he be down here helping too?”

“I understand you’re alarmed, but we can’t let worry take over. These men need our help, and with the little supplies I have, I’m not sure all of them will make it.”

“I’ll fetch you more supplies! We’re not far from your infirmary.”

“No, it’s too dangerous-”

I sprinted away from him, pushing past crowds of people and ignoring their pleas for me to stay. Already out of breath as I reached the top of the stairs, I found myself staring at the door that kept me hidden from whatever monster was terrorising Camelot. Was I really this desperate to find out if Merlin had magic? Could I really risk my life for this moment? Images of my parents flashed before me, how strong they looked when they returned from a witch hunt, how proud they were; wait a minute, my weapons!

Sneaking out of the door, I looked down both hallways, the sudden darkness of the night giving me chills. It was too quiet, there didn’t seem to be any sign of fighting. Although this put me on edge, I continued on, slipping down staircase after staircase to reach the servant’s quarters. As I entered my shared room, I could feel the tension within me build. How did I not encounter anything or anyone yet? Grabbing my sword and bow and arrow, I tiptoed back out, only to hear the sound of hurried footsteps. Retreating back into my room, the door slightly ajar for me to see through, I spotted a cloaked figure running down the hall. I did not recognise this man, assuming that this was the sorcerer. As I followed his confusing path, I readied my bow and arrow, prepared to strike at any moment.

“You should leave the past behind you.” he suddenly said, stopping dead in his tracks.

“I will not listen to you, your evil lies will not tempt me.” I firmly stated, pulling the string back more.

“Think about this, young witch finder, would you really kill someone for being born this way? Something they couldn’t control?” He slowly turned around, his sparkling, amber eyes glowing in the dark.

“Yes, because all your kind ever does is bring murder and terror wherever they are.”

“Now we know that’s not true.”

“Y-yes it is!”

“Then I guess, after you kill me, you’ll be killing Merlin too? He should be on his way here soon.”

“Stop this! I won’t personally kill you, you must stand before the king and answer for your crimes.”

He chuckled.“Crimes, yes. The crime of being hunted down and almost killed, just because I’m slightly different. Makes total sense. And I suppose it makes you feel better that you won’t actually kill me, you’re just aiding in Uther’s terrible reign.”

I fired a bow at him, purposefully missing as a warning. It irritated me that he didn’t even flinch as it skimmed past his face.

“This is a dead end, give up, you knew this day would come.”

He looked behind him at the steel bars that blocked an old emergency tunnel, now shut off due to how unsafe it would be to pass through there.“You really think a bit of metal would stop me?”

“(Y/N) get down!” I heard Merlin yell, before the sorcerer threw his hand towards me, the bars flying out of the stone they were built in.

My eyes widened as I had no time to react. Before I could even blink, the four metal bars blasted into smithereens, no longer harmful to even a fly. They sprinkled down like delicate snowflakes right before my eyes, until I noticed that the sorcerer had escaped. Merlin grabbed me before I could take one step after him, having to control me thrashing around in his arms.

“Let go! Get your hands off of me!” I screamed.

“You can’t go after him, he’s dangerous!” he argued back.

“So are you!”

That seemed to shock him, and I was able to get out of his grip. Our breathing was heavy and quick, and all we could do was stare at each other.

“What?” he whispered out.

“What you just did there, you’re....you’re a sorcerer.”

“That wasn’t me, that was clearly-”

“Merlin! He wouldn’t threaten to hurt me then save me.”

“(Y/N), I-”

“I’m a witch hunter. I have been my whole life, my family has been doing this for generations. I can’t believe that I’ve been friends with a sorcerer.” I threw my bow and arrows down in frustration.

“A what? You can’t be one of them.”

“Well, I am. My family were helping get rid of them, to make this world a safer place.”

“You don’t understand, we’re not all your enemy.”

“Yes you are. I really didn’t want this to be true, I couldn’t face it if you turned out to have magic.”

“Why? Why would it matter so much to you?”

“B-because....you’re my friend and I care about you. But now, I can’t be that with you.”

“What will you do now?”

I couldn’t give him an answer, instead shaking my head and beginning to walk away. Merlin reached out for my hand, but I quickly snatched it away from him, hurrying my pace so he did not see my tears. What was I to do? All I knew about sorcerers was that we were to get rid of them, though now I was conflicted. Merlin was my friend, and I couldn’t face turning him in, let alone kill him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The city soon got back to normal after the sorcerer escaped. Thankfully no one died and everything was in one piece; well, everything but my mind. All I could ever think about was Merlin, and reflecting back on it, how he saved me with his magic. I had avoided him ever since, not sure how we would speak or if he would even want to look at me after confessing what my family were known for. However, I found that I was missing him, even his smile. If Merlin ever died....

“(Y/N).” a hushed voice called me. I looked around, confused where it was coming from.“(Y/N)!”

I looked to my right, spotting Merlin down an alleyway beside the castle. He gestured for me to follow him, and without hesitation I did. Nothing was said between us as I let him guide me, leading us out to the fields surrounding the back of the castle. I noticed him hiding something in his jacket, hidden from sight.

“I wanted to show you something, something that might change your mind.” he said, kneeling to the ground.

“Merlin, I’m sor-”

He shushed me, opening up his jacket to reveal something else bundled up in a handkerchief. I sat beside him, my heart aching as I saw a small bird, clearly in pain with a broken wing. Its breaths were rapid, scared for what was going to happen to him.

“Watch.” Merlin instructed.

He slowly lowered his hand over the bird, hovering above it as he chanted strange, unrecognisable words. I couldn't help but watch his eyes turn amber like the other sorcerer, but he made it seem beautiful, enchanting even. His head turned to me as he stopped speaking, and I felt that I couldn’t look away. We broke eye contact when we heard the bird chirp, seeing that it was back on its feet, flapping its wings as if nothing happened. The bird hastily flew away, Merlin and I smiling and laughing as we watched.

“Do you see now that there is good in magic?” He asked, slight uncertainty in his voice.

I sadly smiled at him.“Yes. I’m sorry for my behaviour towards you, that I started treating you differently, as if you were the bad person. That’s how I was raised, but now I see that my parents weren’t completely right.”

“Why didn’t you turn me in?”

I looked away, feeling more and more guilt.“I couldn’t stand to even think about you dying. I was confused, angry, everything I thought I knew was flipped upside down. But what sort of friend would I be if I told everyone your secret? Put you in danger?”

“Thank you. That means everything to me. I’m sorry I had to hide it from you.”

“Does Arthur know?”

He shook his head.“He can’t know, not ever.”

“I won’t say anything to anyone, not ever.”

We smiled at each other, a new found peace between us. I lunged over on top of him, giving him the biggest hug I could muster. I had to hold him close, just for a while, just so I knew that he definitely was still here. Nothing but happiness filled my brain as he hugged back, feeling the same relief as I did. Merlin had changed my outlook, changed the way I viewed the world. There were still evil people out there, some with magic and some not, but those who did possess such a gift were going to change the world someday, even if it was centuries from now. And it was all going to start with Merlin.

#merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin imagine #merlin imagines #merlin one shot #merlin x reader

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admittedlynotspartacus · 5 years

Text

“Game of Thrones” Season VIII: Episode 1 - Eighth Verse, Same as the First

All right you sons of bitches, here we motherfucking go. The last six episodes. I want to see you wrapping yourselves up in fur, hopping on your nearest dragon, and shaking your asses... because winter? She’s here.

WARNING: Spoilers for the latest episode below, so if you haven’t seen it and don’t know yet who dies, who fucks who, and just how many times Bran was creeping in his wheelchair, turn back now.

WINTERFELL

Okay, so after the credits are like -

we see this rando little boy running around and we’re kinda like, “Little Boy, what the fuck are you up to?” And he’s like -

And it’s kinda like “Okay, little boy, chill the fuck out because D-Baby and J’Snow are COMING. TO. TOWN.” So they’re strutting in like -

And Arya’s watching like -

but also a little like -

And meanwhile during all this, Barack and Michelle are looking around all -

Anyway, the whole thing is like kinda gorgeous and super nostalgic but like in a good way and we’re kinda like, “This might actually just be really fucking great.” But then D&D are like, “Boy, do we have a fucking treat for you guys, ‘cause the first line of the season? Yeah, it’s gonna be a joke about how Varys doesn’t have a dick!”

And what’s more constant on Game of Thrones than dick jokes? No, aside from gratuitous nudity. No, also aside from sexual violence against women. Yes, that’s right. Dragons. The lone survivors come flying over Winterfell, and Arya’s like -

while Sansa is all -

Truly not having it. Okay, so finally J-Snow winds up in the Winterfell courtyard and we see somebody creeping in the corner of the frame like -

SURPRISE! IT’S BRAN! And J-Snow’s all, “Yo little bro, it’s so crazy to see you. You’re totally a grown ass man now.” And Bran is all -

And we’re like, “Cool, so he’s like TOTALLY just a fucking meme now, got it.”

Meanwhile, tensions are HIGH inside the Meeting Hall when Lady Sophia Grace reads. J-Snow. To. Filth.

And so it’s like drama, drama, drama, but like none of it ultimately matters because guess who’s fucking back with like a REAL White Supremacist haircut?

That’s right. Hide yo kids. Hide yo wife. And also minorities, because... that haircut is a little concerning.

He’s basically like, “Gotta have more coal, gotta have more coal,” while P-Dinky and Sansa have That Awkward Remember When We Got Married talk and Bran watches from the courtyard like -

Then for Reunion #5,765 we’ve got Arya and J-Snow. Arya is all, “You used to be taller,” and J-Snow is like, “You used to seem less like a sociopath.”

Anyway, they bond over Arya’s sword and he’s like, “Have you ever used it?” And she’s just like -

And then J-Snow is like, ‘Look at us, we have swords, we have so much in common, also ISN’T SANSA A BITCH?” And Arya’s just like -

KING’S LANDING

So Cersei is literally dressed like this.

when Uncle Freddie Mercury struts into the Throne Room, and this time he’s brought Jon Bon Jovi along for the ride.

HEY, GURL! So Cersei’s pretty stoked that she has Bon Jovi’s army, but also a little bit like -

Meanwhile, Uncle Freddie’s just got one thing on his mind.

And after putting up a little bit of a fight, Cersei is just like -

And then we just cut to Bronn Piece of Fucking Shit in the middle of this -

when Maester Frankenstein bursts in all -

So the Boob Ladies have gotta go, but not before one of the craziest things ever to happen on this show goes down. First one of the Ladies goes to Maester Frankenstein all -

And then he literally says, “Poor girl. The pox will take her within the year.”

Yeah, glad we’re spending time on this. Anyway, I guess Cersei like... wants Bronn to kill Jaime and P-Dinky. Sure. Next.

Cersei is post-coital and all she can think about is -

While Uncle Freddie is just like, “Girl you make me wanna get you pregnant,” and she’s just like -

Meanwhile, outside on Uncle Freddie’s ship, all the guards are suddenly like -

except legit one of them already has a fucked-up eye before he gets shot. I’m not even kidding, check it back... so I guess, no harm no foul? Anyway, it turns out it’s Theon rescuing his sister. And clearly we’re supposed to all be like -

But instead it’s kinda like -

Like. So easy that they steal a bunch of Uncle Freddie’s ships. Again. Like, Freddie. Get on your shit.

WINTERFELL

Back here, Varys is singing my favorite Harry Styles song.

While D-Baby and J-Snow are running around like -

Like truly has there ever been a piece of entertainment so sure we are invested in a couple and so wrong as Thrones is with these two?

But gird your loins, people because D-Baby is like “If you wanna be my lover, you gotta RIDE MY FUCKING DRAGON.” So J-Snow is like -

and then it just turns into this -

meets this -

Because when your lead actors don’t have chemistry, it’s best to surround them with CGI gobbledegook and then make them say the most fuckboy of fuckboy things ever. J-Snow: It’s cold up here for a southern girl. D-Baby: So keep your queen warm.

Anyway, back to the real show.

Much better. So it’s time for the second leg of the Arya Reunion Tour. We’ve got the Hound. We’ve got Gendry. And the Hound is all, “You left me for dead.” And Arya’s all, “Nuh-uh, first I stole that PAPER.” And the Hound is like -

“Peace.” So then it’s just Gendry and Arya. And Gendry’s all, “Gurl you look GOOD.” And Arya’s like, “Yo I hate being called milady except when it’s YOU ON THE OTHER END.” And I’m literally like SALIVATING for these two to just BONE already.

But first Arya shows him some shitty drawing and is like, “Can you make this?” And he’s like -

So then we get to what winds up being the best part of the episode, which is the only time that term can be applied to anything relating to Samwell Tarly. I know, I’m just as surprised as you. So D-Baby struts in to see him and she’s all, “You’re the man.”

And she’s like, “Sure. I mean the man who healed Ser Jorah! THANKS FOR THAT!”

“Oh, also, by the way. I literally burnt your father alive.” And Sam’s all -

But then he’s like, “Wait, but now I can move back in with my brother!”

And she’s like, “Okay so I burnt him alive as well.”

So Sam’s like -

So he’s having a bad day, right? Like it’s horrible enough that he has to deal with this shit, and when he goes outside he almost gets hit by a fucking wagon, but the worst of the worst is that he winds up running straight into -

And it’s like BRAN! WHY HAVE YOU BECOME THE WEIRD WALDORF KID WHO CUTS HIS OWN HAIR AND LISTENS TO WAY TOO MUCH COLDPLAY?!?! AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST SITTING HERE?!?!

Ugh, whatever. So he’s like, “Sam. It’s time to tell Jon the truth.” And Sam’s like, “Oh, bitch, you bet it fucking is.” So he storms down to J-Snow and tells him the two words he needs to hear most.

THE LAST HEARTH

So Ginger Wildling and Eyepatch Dude somehow survived the Wall falling.

And they’re wandering around this place we’ve never been before all -

When suddenly they run into a bunch of Night’s Watch people and That Night’s Watch Dude Who’s Been Around forever shouts the thing I thought all Oscar season about Bradley Cooper -

“STAY BACK! HE’S GOT BLUE EYES!”

But then everybody chills the fuck out and they go into this room where this little dead boy is the centerpiece of some bizarre art installation by the Night Queen.

And they’re like, “Notice the use of light” when suddenly the dead little boy is like -

and they’re like -

Which makes for Child Burning #2 on this show. So that’s good.

WINTERFELL

Okay, so then we’ve got Mysterious Hooded Figure approaching the castle. And I’m like... “Melisandre?” And the show’s like...

And I’m like... “Littlefinger?!?” And the show’s like...

And I’m like... “Beyonce?!?” And the show’s like...

And I’m like -

Until he looks over. And who else should he see but -

This fucking kid.

BOOB COUNT: 3 pairs BODY COUNT: 1 (RIP Ned Umber, whoever the fuck you are) EPISODE GRADE: B-

Okay, so this spot used to be reserved for SER POUNCE’S STRAY THOUGHTS, but then D&D announced Ser Pounce is dead because they’re cruel bastards. So I announce the installation of:

THE SER POUNCE MEMORIAL FOR STRAY THOUGHTS

I was one hundred percent down with the echoes of the pilot episode - Arya clocking the little boy watching the procession just as she had, the scoring. I typically hate when movies or shows repeat earlier stuff in their home stretches, but this was well-done and satisfying nostalgia porn.

Why do we continue these ball jokes? Does anybody genuinely think they’re funny anymore? ANSWER ME!!!

There’s a long linger on Bran’s first look at Daenerys. I suppose this could be because he knows she’s Jon’s aunt, but maybe he knows something else in her future. But also who gives a fuck, Bran’s nuts.

Okay, so this Tyrion trusting Cersei shit - there’s gotta be something going on here, because I don’t believe for a second Tyrion would believe she’d actually come unless he, as suspected, struck some kind of deal with her. He says, “She has something to live for now,” which ties back to the moment we cut away from their scene last year. Could he have made some sort of deal about the baby? As in he will fight for the Lannister lineage? I don’t know what this means yet, but I will justify hardcore when the show starts making Tyrion look like a fucking dumbass.

It’s so frustrating that Jon is right - everybody does need to work together - and yet he seems to not accept that it’s completely valid that people should be challenging his leadership tactics after botching two military operations the last two seasons. I’m so over him.

Harry Strickland’s entrance with 6 episodes left feels suspect. Let us not forget that in the books there is the other Aegon who is represented by the Golden Company. We don’t know where that plotline is going, but it’s very possible Strickland is this character incognito, and that he will ultimately be the one to kill Cersei. He has only a few moments in this episode, but his looks at Cersei and the Red Keep are quite loaded.

I hate no character more than Bronn and I am also certain no character will survive more than Bronn.

Moments like the elephant shit turn these characters into campy weirdos that make me wonder if D&D even like these people at all.

I suppose I’m mildly interested in the fact that Cersei has so alienated herself from everyone that she has to turn to Euron for the tiniest bit of comfort. But then I remember that Euron is one of the most lazily-written villains ever and I stop caring.

Boy, the buildup for the Theon rescue mission was so great and boy, the payoff was lousy.

“I don’t know how to ride a dragon.” “Nobody does, until they ride a dragon.” Television writing - so easy a fourth grader could do it.

Dragon doesn’t like Jon kissing Daenerys. Does dragon want to fuck Daenerys?

As much as Sansa is calling Jon on the carpet about his allegiance with Daenerys and his seeming ineptitude at leading, she has even more grounds to be pissed off than she’s showing here. I’m hopeful that we are meant to side with her and that it isn’t the show just giving Jon another free pass for being the de facto “hero” of the show.

And the MVP of the episode shockingly goes to John Bradley, who is heartbreaking in his scene with Daenerys. Moreover, combining the Targaryen reveal to Jon with the notion that Jon may be turning a blind eye to Daenerys’ more psychopathic tendencies sets up a really interesting conflict that hopefully the rest of the season cashes in on. And having it come from the one person Jon knows wouldn’t lie to him made it all the more powerful.

“My father was the most honorable man I ever met” - the words of denial

“You gave up your crown to save your people. Would she do the same?”

So obviously the Bran stuff is just a fucking lost cause at this point. But even I will admit the symmetry of the ending with Jaime took me by surprise and gave me chills. I’m not a monster.

NEXT WEEK: Jaime’s got some ‘splainin’ to do.

#gameofthrones #forthethrone #winterfell #jonsnow #daenerys targaryen #season8 #hbo

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anghraine · 5 years

Note

⭐⭐⭐ :)

Three stars! Well, then.

#1: from the words are all escaping (Tumblr / AO3)

Even in bed, they slept tangled up instead of sticking to the careful distance they once maintained. They’d been too starved and nervous to dare more, at first. But when they had nightmares, or worked themselves into dead exhaustion, or got sedated for some reason or another, Cassian would curl himself about her, and Jyn started to feel cold and uneasy when he didn’t. She didn’t say so; that stayed the same. Instead, she yanked him hard enough that he ended up sprawled over half her body, face against her shoulder and arm braced over her waist. They both laughed, but they did sleep that way more often than not, mostly because Jyn rested better with an arm over his unguarded head or back, and Cassian with her heart beating against him.

Huh, never realized this paragraph was that long. Anyway:

I am (obviously) a total sucker for the bed-sharing fanon, and since the now you’re the future series (/Script AU) is kind of the core post-Scarif storyline for me, I definitely wanted it there. And I wanted touch starvation alongside it, because it’s pretty probable, but I wanted it to be deeper than just saying the phrase.

And I always see them as a bit codependent (especially in this universe), so I tend to like the idea of not just sharing the bed but wrapping themselves up in each other. And I wanted to highlight that as a character thing—have it not just mentioned in passing but to go over its evolution and their reasons for it.

But I can’t say it wasn’t mostly influenced by @sempaiko’s lovely picture here.

#2 from First Impressions (Tumblr | AO3)

And of this place, I might have been master. With these rooms, I might now have been familiarly acquainted. Henry looked around in a sort of daze. Instead of viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them as my own, and welcomed to them my uncle and aunt. But no—he caught himself—I should have had to force her to invite them.

This passage existed in my head from very early—before I really even started brainstorming in earnest. It was one of the things that made me want to write it, actually, because FI is partly my gay love letter to Darcy, but partly playing around with gender roles and expectations. I retold the story as much like the original as I could specifically so the changes due to gender would jump out. And this was definitely one of the main ones for me.

In the original, of course, Elizabeth thinks that she would not be allowed to invite them and her family would be lost to her. And she thinks that because she still thinks Darcy is a controlling, bad-tempered asshole in his domestic capacity, as well as merely snobbish—that’s why Mrs Reynolds’s testimony matters so much. Some of that is there with Henry’s view of Catherine.

But the idea of Henry meekly accepting Catherine’s dictates (even if coming from the same fundamental inclinations on her side) was ludicrous. They’re his family; of course he’d insist on them being invited to Pemberley, whatever Catherine privately thought about it.

Understandable as that might be, though, the shifting framework of power and control made this straightforward reversal of the original passage pretty nasty to me. Forcing Catherine to do anything is a pretty repugnant thought—even something she should do. And I wanted it to be a little chilling in that way.

#3: The Jedi and the Sith Lord (Tumblr | AO3)

Spoilers for … idk, anyone who might read my f!Luke series but hasn’t gotten to this?

It’s the third part of the series, which has mostly followed canon in plot. However, at the end of the second, Vader convinced Lucy to surrender and go into carbon freeze as the price of Leia et al’s lives. They are now en route to his castle.

The girl couldn’t be expected to see reason, not yet; she couldn’t be permitted to remain with her Rebel friends; she certainly couldn’t be left to the tender mercies of the Emperor. It’d been all Vader could do to convince him that a daughter might be of any use at all. At the slightest inconvenience, Palpatine would end her life and her great potential.

No, there had only been one alternative. She must be kept here, within his own stronghold on Vjun, safe from the rest of the galaxy, and under his control.

He would have liked to test her, but his first priority had to be capturing her, and that accomplished, transporting her to Bast Castle, out of sight of the Emperor.

So. I wrote the end of the second fic in a rush (to meet the deadline for the exchange it was part of), which is … probably apparent. In particular, I didn’t really develop the rationale for the twist ending of The Imperial Menace, and that’s what I was trying to do here.

The thing is, I usually prefer to accept and confront aspects of canon I don’t like rather than headcanoning them away. So the premise of the Lucyverse (beyond f!Luke) is that the extreme male domination of the OT (+RO, later) reflects a very real male domination in the GFFA, especially in the Empire.

That has to square with the PT, where we did see a lot more women, but it wasn’t difficult; the whole idea of the OT is that things have gone drastically downhill with the rise of the Empire. A new government sweeping away the moderate achievements of the previous one was not difficult to imagine, even back then. And it seemed most likely that a drastic shift in policy would come from the top down.

So the change operated on the assumption that Palpatine is profoundly misogynistic, while Anakin/Vader thinks it’s one of the many ways in which Palpatine is wasteful and inadequate. And that’s what’s going on in his head now—he would have preferred an elaborate trial, but his main goal was removing Lucy from both the Rebellion and the Empire until he could turn her to the Dark Side.

And take over the galaxy as father and daughter, obviously.

#ladytharen #respuestas #meme prattle #fic talk #/#//#///#script au #first impressions #lucy skywalker #star wars #austen blogging #otp: welcome home #otp of otps #cleft chins psychotic rage and cyborg hands

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galfridus1 · 6 years

Note

First of all, congratulations! You deserve it 😊! Can I request 6 for Monspiet and younger Estarossa please, thank you! 😃

Thank you! And thank you for the ask Kat! And thanks for all your own work on this pair. I hope you like this.

Monspeet was sure something fishy was up. He had been bored that day so had gone for a stroll through the palace grounds, listening to the soothing wails of the hydra and counting the windows of the Demon King’s castle. And there were exactly forty-eight of them on the first floor. This had surprised him. Last he had visited the building interior he had only counted forty-two from the inside. So where were the missing six?

Lips pursed, Monspeet took a step closer, trying to figure out the lie of the land. The ones on the end, at the very easternmost edge of the palace appeared to belong to a self-contained annex. The windows were blacked out but that was not necessarily suspicious of course; there were plenty of rooms that required total darkness at all times in the demon realm. But nonetheless Monspeet got the feeling something was wrong. He stared upwards, eyes fixed on the panes, wondering what the Demon King was keeping secret behind them.

Well, he had nothing better to do so why not find out? The others were always telling him he was too curious for his own good but this was too intriguing to pass up. The question was, how to do it? Entry from the outside would surely be noticed, so Monspeet would have to try and find the way in from the inside. There must be one. Mind made up, the soldier started on his way towards the castle, his senses on full alert to ensure he was left alone. The realm was full to the brim with spies; the Demon King did not trust his people, not even his own sons, both of whom were kept under constant surveillance, though Meliodas and Zeldris could fend for themselves of course.

With a nonchalant wave to the guards, Monspeet made his way inside the castle, taking the central staircase up to the first floor. There were some benefits to being in training to join the elite Ten Commandments; it was gruelling work, the missions were of questionable validity and Meliodas was a hard task master, but it did open doors. Quite literally in this case. It would not be long now before he received his decree and he occasionally wondered which one he would get.

Quietly, doing his best not to draw any suspicion, Monspeet examined the paintings on the wall, his eye running over generals of old. The fashions of the realm had changed considerably, and it took a while as he walked down the hallways until he arrived at the familiar high collars which were popular in the present. He passed a few guards on patrol along the way, but they paid him no heed. This was unsurprising. Commandments were the highest ranked soldiers in the realm, apart from the princes and their tutors, and were generally left to themselves by all and sundry. It did get lonely sometimes; Monspeet had been courting a woman, sister of a fellow trainee, but he had seen her enthusiasm wane as his power expended. She herself was not of the bloodthirsty ilk.

He reached the end of the corridor and stopped, checking he was alone before starting his investigations. Close examination of the stonework confirmed his suspicions; the eastern wall of the castle had been built recently, likely in the last one hundred years or so. Something was definitely being hidden behind it, he just needed to discover what.

With great care, Monspeet began to tap lightly on the stones, listening for a change in the timbre of his knocks. It was cleverly done - the wall was protected with a magical barrier - but Monspeet could feel where the weakness was. Fingers grazing lightly over the stones, he searched for the opening, his hearts soaring with triumph as he pressed on a hidden switch and a door swung open. Looking inside, Monspeet could not but help shiver slightly; the room within was pitch black and carried the notable tang of pain and despair. A torture chamber perhaps? He told himself that, if so, it would do no harm to investigate further. He would ideally want to know about the place so that he could threaten the enemy with incarceration in the no doubt gruesome chambers. But as he entered the room, the atmosphere freezing his skin, he knew that this was not somewhere he should be exploring.

Eyes adjusting to the gloom, Monspeet stilled his breathing, treading on light feet to make as little noise as possible. This had always been a skill of his, the ability to move in silence. He wrapped his cloak more tightly around his frame to ward off the cold; it was absolutely freezing, and if there had been light enough Monspeet was sure he would have been able to see the steam of his breath.

“Who’s there?” a small voice called from the gloom and Monspeet nearly jumped out of his skin with the shock. Just a torture victim he told himself, forcing his feet to continue their path. Nothing to worry about. Whoever it is will be behind bars, or worse… The thought caused another chill to slide down his spine as he stepped closer towards the source of the noise.

All at once, he was in a large, well-lit chamber and Monspeet squinted involuntarily against the sudden onslaught of light. Shielding his eyes, he tried to make out the interior of the room, noting rich fabrics and ornate furniture. The room was warm and clean, but smelled slightly musty, as if no fresh air had been permitted entrance for several years. It took some seconds for Monspeet’s vision to become up to the task, at which point they focused on a small boy in the centre of a massive bed, an oversized jacket draped round his shoulders.

“Who are you?” the boy quavered, fear evident in every word that he spoke. “Has Meliodas sent you?”

Monspeet bit his lip at this. If the prince was involved he was out of his depth. Brain working furiously, the soldier tried to think of how best to respond in a way that could extricate himself from this situation.

“No… and best not mention my visit to him,” Monspeet murmured, forcing himself to meet the boy’s eyes. They were the familiar coal black of the rest of his clan, but try as he might to sense it there was no sign of power. This was highly unusual; occasionally demons were born without magic or strength but it was extremely rare, and the children were invariably terminated at an early age for their own benefit. Weakness was not tolerated in the demon realm. “It was a mistake for me to come here, I merely took a wrong turn. If you will excuse me, I will trespass on your time no longer.”

The boy giggled, his face lighting up in an instant and Monspeet felt his chest squeeze. It was a gentle sound, one devoid of the usual cruelty, and it warmed his soul. “I know that’s tosh,” the boy blurted put through his laughter, “there rooms are really well hidden. No one wants…” The boy broke off, biting his lip and Monspeet suddenly felt an overwhelming pity swell in his breast.

“Please, stay for a bit,” the boy murmured. “Mel does his best but it’s really lonely here. He can’t see me that often, he’s so busy. He’s leading the war you know!” he finished proudly.

“Who are you?” Monspeet asked gently, moving closer to the boy, noting with shock the royal insignia on his clothing and his striking resemblance to his future leader. Even the hair was the same, two unruly strands sticking out of the top of his head. “You… you can’t be…”

“I’m Estarossa,” the boy said with a grin, “Meliodas’s younger brother. But I have to stay here,” he added regretfully. “I have no power you see, not yet, but I’m working on it!” he protested and Monspeet cursed himself. Obviously the horror he felt was showing plain on his face.

“Mel says once my power is awakened I can come out for real,” Estarossa continued, his eyes shining with his enthusiasm. “He takes me up to Britannia sometimes, but I’m not allowed out here. He says…” Estarossa halted, his eyes suddenly wary as he looked closely at Monspeet. “You’re not here to kill me are you?”

“N-no,” Monspeet stuttered, his hearts squeezing in his chest as the boy visibly relaxed. “But your brother is right,” he added thoughtfully, suddenly seeing the lie of the land. The boy was evidently shut up for his own protection. “You would likely be killed if you were found in the demon realm.”

“That’s what Mel said.” Estarossa sighed, his eyes cast down towards the velvet coverlet. “I knew he wasn’t lying. He never does.” Monspeet practically chewed his lip off at this; the one thing the General was known for was his ability to play fast and loose with the truth.

“I… I have to go, sorry,” Monspeet murmured, rushing on as Estarossa’s face fell, “we’ll both be in trouble if I’m found here.”

“You’ll come back and see me again?” Estarossa said timidly, his voice very small. “It really is lonely and you’ve been so nice.” Against his better judgement Monspeet managed a nod and a slight bow before taking his leave. Power or not this boy was part of the royal family, and was his liege by birth. He practically ran back through towards the castle, his breath coming quick in his haste; he no longer wanted to hide, he wanted to leave. Relief washed over him as the gloom subsided and the light of the castle came into view.

“Monspeet! What a pleasant surprise!” His hearts sank to his boots as he looked at the boy, so similar in features to the one he had just left. But this one was different, power rolling from him in waves, the mark of his accomplishment emblazoned on his forehead. He was done now; no way the General would permit this transgression to go unpunished.

Monspeet was just deciding whether to surrender or fight when Meliodas let out a bark of laughter. “You have found out my family’s secret. Now why would you do that? I told you that curiosity of yours would be your undoing.

“Well, you’re in real trouble this time,” Meliodas continued, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Father will not permit you to walk free with the knowledge of what you have seen. But don’t worry, your training is nearly complete. You are a valuable asset to the war, and I think I see a solution. I know a way to ensure your eternal silence.”

With that Monspeet allowed the prince to lead him away, fingers digging tightly into his elbow as they headed towards the Demon King’s throne room.

#nnt #prompt collab #fanfiction #monspeet #estarossa #meliodas #younger Estarossa

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girlygameofthrones · 7 years

Text

The Game of Thrones Fanfiction Nobody Asked For

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairing: Eventually it will be Roose x Reader

Warning: None for now...except maybe foolishness

Summary: You are completely in love with this wonderful new HBO show Game of Thrones. You’ve read all the fanfiction and know exactly how they should go, but when you find yourself in Game of Thrones, you find out that being the “Original Character” isn’t exactly how you thought it would go. Story takes place before Season 3 was released, so Reader only knows Seasons 1 & 2.

Author’s Note: Okay guys, this shameful idea popped in my head probably at some ungodly hour of the morning. It’s totally stupid, and I apologize in advance for it.

Word Count: 2900

You adored this new show on HBO, Game of Thrones. You’d never seen anything like it before. It was dark, it was sexy, it was gritty, and the costumes were absolutely gorgeous. So far you had both laughed and cried, cheered and booed, and you’d even taken your socks off and thrown them at your television. The first season sucked you in, and the second season made sure you stayed there. Now that the third season was rapidly approaching, you could barely handle your excitement. By far, Game of Thrones was your new favorite show.

To quench your thirst of the show, while you waited for season three, you busied yourself by reading fanfictions. You generally kept these hidden, reading them on your phone, glancing around to make sure no one knew what you were reading. You had ships for everyone, and many of the boys you secretly shipped with yourself. To put it lightly, you were completely obsessed with it.

So the day you woke up in a strange new world, dressed up in a funny gown that looked like it was made from the same material as a potato sack, your immediate thought was: “I’m in Game of Thrones!”

As much as you wished it, you knew it couldn’t possibly be true. It was just a television show, and girls in real life weren’t like the OCs you found in fanfiction. You had school, homework to work on. You were finishing up your senior year in high school. Clearly you were dreaming, probably having a vivid one thanks to all the extra Mountain Dew you chugged before going to bed.

But it was so real!

“The Starks are requesting these men fight for them.”

“The Lannister forces left the battle, completely defeated. The Young Wolf had them on the run with their tails between their legs.”

You sat up, noticing you were in a lumpy bed. You took a look around, seeing dusty stone walls and flickering candles around you. Everything was so clear to you; you couldn’t possibly be sleeping. As if to prove this to you, when you put your feet down on the stone floor, you yelped at the icy cold stone. Yep, for some reason you were in a castle. For some reason you were dressed up in a hideous potato sack dress.

And for some reason, you were inside Game of Thrones.

Your first reaction was to grab your face and panic. What would you parents say? Game of Thrones was a terribly brutal show! It was gory and violent yet sexy in certain scenes. People died left and right in it! Was this really the sort of world you wanted to be in? Watching it was one thing, but living in it? How long would you last? What would happen when you breathed too heavily on Joffrey or trodded on the Mountain’s foot, and they retaliated by killing you?

But then (you were ashamed to think it) you thought of all your favorites. There was Robb Stark, Ned Stark’s eldest and very handsome son. After him was Jon Snow, the shy sweet virgin character up at the wall. He got extra woobie points for being a bastard. You wanted to like Jaime Lannister, as he was undeniably handsome, but he was an asshole who was sleeping with his sister. Oh, but there was Tyrion! You never thought you’d find a dwarf so charming. And that was just the boys! What of the girls? Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons! Or there was Arya, a tiny badass that stuck out in your mind. Even Sansa, who you didn’t like first season, was growing on you as she handled captivity in her subtle way.

But the question really was, where were you now? Winterfell? Would you see the Starks come out and would they greet you? You’d heard them refer to Robb as the Young Wolf, so this had to have been past season one at least. You knew you weren’t at the Wall. Girls couldn’t go there anyways (though they always seemed to find their way there in the stories) and judging by the dusty room you were in, it wasn’t King’s Landing.

Maybe you were with the Doth Wraki?

But Doth Wraki didn’t have castles. They moved around and stayed in tents. As you pondered for a moment where you had found yourself (you felt ashamed in the back of your mind for enjoying this instead of panicking) the door to your room opened and in came two grubby looking men.

And grubby was an understatement! You wrinkled your nose as a certain stench wafted in with them. Were they servants? The two of them were unkempt and wore widow peaked skullcaps that hung down their bony faces. As you looked closer, you realized they were wearing jackets made from the same material as your potato dress.

“Sister,” one said with a thick accent. “You’re not even dressed! Father is waiting for you!”

Your jaw dropped open.

“Um, excuse me, but what?” You said, gaping like a fish.

“Come on,” the other man said. “Out of bed you! You gotta get prettied up! The Lord’s comin’ by to choose himself a wife!”

What lord? Maybe it was Robb? Your heart sank; he’d married that nurse girl, Talisa, at the end of season two. She was alright, but you still liked fantasizing about him. What other lords were there? Then again, this was like a crazy fanfiction, so maybe Robb hadn’t married her…

“Uh, well, if I’m going to get ready to meet a possible future husband, shouldn’t I at least wear something nicer than this?” You fingered the fraying gown, several loose threads poking out here and there.

The men, who apparently in this world were your brothers, blinked a few times.

“Are you ill, sister?” One asked. They looked kind of familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You’d seen them in the show, but they hadn’t made a lasting impression on you.

“No, I don’t think so,” You said confusedly. “Really though, I must have something nicer in my closet…”

“That’s what you always wear,” your new brother said. “Nicer clothes? Really, Father has other matters he needs to take care of with the family’s gold. You can’t expect nice clothing. Where do you think we are? In King’s Landing?”

Your head spun. Maybe you were in a poor family. But that didn’t make sense either, because you were being lined up for a lord to choose a bride. You were part of some noble house… You mentally pouted, thinking of all the gorgeous dressed and costumes they had on the show, and you were stuck in this horrible thing!

“Silly me,” You said broodily. You hopped up though and went over to the foggy mirror to fix up your hair. You were put off when your other brother handed you a brown skull cap just like his. “What’s this?”

“Your cap,” he said. “For your hair.”

Well, if there was any way to make the outfit that much uglier, they had found it. They were trying to be helpful, you thought. You took it from him and placed it over your hair, the sight of it making you choke up with disappointment. If you were going to be the OC in a fanfiction, why couldn’t you dress like Daenerys, or hell, even Cersei?

“Come on now, they’re all waiting for you,” your brother said to you and took your hand. He didn’t wait for you to say anything as he led you out the door.

The rest of the castle was just as utterly depressing as the room you woke up in. Whoever owned it seemed to be cutting back on candles. There was a thick layer of dust that wafted around no matter where you went. There were a few fireplaces, but most didn’t have fires in them, giving the fortress a constant chill, and the windows, when you found them, were foggy and yellowing. You knew deep down you weren’t in Winterfell, but this was definite proof you weren’t. Winterfell was never as fancy as the Capital, but it at least had its own kind of charm. This place had nothing of the sort.

You were brought inside a room with one long table at the front and several girls (your sisters? But there were so many of them!) standing in a row. They all wore various styles of the potato sack dress and those awful caps. There had to have been twelve of them though. Plus there were your two brothers. Each girl had her eyes downcast.

“Father, we present to you Y/N,” one of your brothers announced.

You looked at the front table, which had a large chair, and your heart sank. It appeared that all the kingdom’s money went into buying this chair your father sat on. And what an awful father he was!

You knew who he was, even though he hadn’t played much of a role so far in the show. Walder Frey, Lord of the Twins, was one of Catelyn Stark’s father’s bannermen. You remembered his big scene, the one where he bragged to Cat about being married to a fifteen year old. You had gagged when you saw it. That’s when you saw the mousy teen sitting beside him, eyes darting around nervously. Somehow in real life he was even more repulsing than he’d been on your living room television.

All the families in Westeros to be adopted into, you thought bitterly, and I’m a stinky Frey!

Walder Frey studied the group of daughters and wrinkled his nose. “Well, you’re certainly an ugly lot. It’s a good thing you were born into this family. If not, what man would ever take you?” His mean eyes scanned the room, jowls quivering, his yellow teeth peeking out from his thin lips. When he saw you, his eyebrows rose a hair. “What’s this? I don’t remember having a daughter this pretty! What was your name again?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Who forgot they had a daughter? He couldn’t even remember your name!

“Father, that’s Y/N,” one of the brothers that retrieved you said. “You remember, right?”

Walder settled back in his chair and chewed his lip a moment. “Hmm, well then, I guess the whole lot of you isn’t so ugly after all. Maybe one of you will impress the lord and you’ll become a real lady.”

What lord was even coming?

“Catelyn Stark said her son Robb, the King in the North,” (he tacked on the extra title mockingly) “would marry one of you.”

Your eyes widened, and you bit your lip, holding back the squeal. You knew in the show that Robb didn’t marry one of the Freys, but maybe if he came, maybe if he saw you...maybe it would be love at first sight! Wouldn’t that be wonderful? You could be lady of Winterfell! You could be a queen, the Queen in the North! You chewed your lip as your eyes wandered, completely lost in lalaland.

“Unfortunately for you, King Robb is too important to keep his promises.” He made a hideous sound. “When you’re king, commitment clearly isn’t honored!”

Your face fell, the fantasy being knocked right out of you. Some fanfiction this was. Robb was doing exactly what he did in the show...marrying another girl. And why wouldn’t he? Talisa was pretty and kind and talented. He’d probably heard about the weathered Frey girls. As disappointed as you were, you still hoped the best for Robb. He and Talisa were cute together after all.

Again, though, you wondered: Which Lord was coming here to find a new bride?

“But one of you at least will marry the second greatest lord of the North,” Walder went on. “Lord Bolton will be arriving soon, and one of you lucky girls will be going with him.”

All your sisters refused to make eye contact, but as for you, you looked up and met Walder’s eyes. Who was Lord Bolton again? A northerner? Did he have many scenes? You wished more than anything you could google House Bolton on your phone. You couldn’t even remember what sigil they had. Was this lord old, young, handsome, cruel? Well, if he was a Northerner, that meant he was one of Robb’s bannermen.

And apart from Tyrion down south, everyone knew the Northerners were the good guys, so if you were picked, you’d be fine, right?

Just then a Frey servant came inside to tell Lord Frey that Lord Bolton had arrived. Your ears perked up. You hoped he was handsome and young like Robb was.

“Peh, bring him in,” Walder said carelessly.

The doors opened and you finally caught sight of your potential husband.

And you were not impressed.

Actually, it wasn’t that you were unimpressed, it was just Lord Bolton wasn’t the idea you had in mind. He certainly wasn’t unattractive, but he wasn’t young, strong, handsome like Robb. He was slender, definitely older, and had short greying hair. What got your attention were his cold eyes. Were they cold, though? You couldn’t tell. You could read him just as well as you could read a book written in Mandarin. Lord Bolton dressed exclusively in black, and his wardrobe made him look almost sinister.

“Welcome to the Twins, my lord,” one of your brothers said pleasantly, nodding his head.

Lord Bolton’s eyes scanned the line of your sisters, including you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be chosen by him or not. This was not the fanfiction you had in mind, but you also didn’t want to spend any more time with the Freys. As you thought about what you really wanted, Lord Bolton gave a curt nod to Walder and then went back to studying you. None of your sisters could make eye contact with him, but as for you, you made sure to keep your head high, curiosity bubbling up inside you.

“As you can tell there’s plenty to choose from,” came Walder’s cruel voice. “Pick whichever. Pick two of if you’d like. I can’t find husbands for all of them. One can be your wife, the other a whore for all I care.”

Your cheeks burned, and before you could really think about what you were doing, you took a step forward and snapped at the old lord: “Are you freaking kidding me? What an awful thing to say! They’re your daughters, not some whores to do whatever you please with!”

At first Walder visibly stiffened, saggy chin shaking as he took in what you’d just said. Lord Bolton’s eyebrows raised just a fraction as he watched the scene before him the way you sometimes watched television. Was he amused by your outburst or annoyed? On top of that, your sisters heads dropped down even further, like they wanted desperately to hide from Walder’s wrath. You stood your ground though, fed up and unwilling to back down. After a tense moment, Walder choked on a bit of laughter.

“Well isn’t she feisty,” he said to Lord Bolton. “Couldn’t even remember her name this morning. Come to think of it...can’t even recall who her mother was. Some spirited whore, probably.”

Lord Bolton ended up smiling, which made your blood boil. “Yes, yes, I know a little about spirited children.”

You were a little taken aback by the Lord’s cold, smooth voice. It was the kind you would have fangirled over in any other circumstance.

Lord Frey grumbled something before taking a big swig of his wine. He grinned, the purple drink having stained his already yellow mouth. “Well, see anything you like? Like I said, take whichever one you’d like!”

“It’s a difficult decision, my lord,” Lord Bolton said casually. He showed absolutely no interest in any of the girls, except for you, but it wasn’t the kind of interest that said he wanted to marry you. “Perhaps I should think on it, get a feel for your daughters before making my decision. It won’t be easy becoming a Bolton.”

“No, that reputation of yours has stuck,” Walder grumbled. He waved a hand dismissively. “Fine. Stay here a night or two. Keep an eye on them and marry the one you want. I can wait a few days.” He turned to your brothers first. “Find a room, for Lord Bolton.” Then he snapped at his daughters. “And you lot, out! Out of here now!”

Everyone stumbled and ran into each other in an attempt to get out all at once. You didn’t budge, catching the gaze of Lord Bolton. You hoped to be able to read something of his expression this time but still you weren’t able. Then one of your sisters grabbed your arm, and before you knew it, you were being dragged out of the room with the rest of them. The whole time your head spun as you made sense of your options and what you wanted to happen.

On one hand, compared to Robb, Lord Bolton was a major disappointment. Not that he was bad looking, but he just wasn’t Robb. Your fantasy was crashing down around you.

But on the other hand...anything was better than the Freys.

So you crossed your fingers, hoping that out of the Freys, Lord Bolton would choose you to marry.

#weird fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones imagines #got imagines #roose x reader #eventually #i shouldn't be allowed to write #humor me #utter foolishness

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mabotomo · 7 years

Text

ALL OUR LIVES | Gob/Michael pre-slash, G. | 4,412 words Gob was worried. But then, being worried about your little brother after his wife died--that was normal, wasn’t it?

The grass rustled with cool winter air when Michael's wife was lowered into her final resting place. George Michael clung to his father's hand as he said his goodbyes--he was only eleven, but already he had the eyes of an old soul.

The cancer came out of nowhere, as these things were prone to. Tracey didn't even have any family history of it, and she was relatively healthy as far as Michael knew, but it wasn't like the world was nice enough to warn you every time something bad was going to happen. Even if, in the grand scheme of things, you were supposed to be a good person (and Tracey was one of the best people Gob knew). In any case, good person or not, it didn't change the fact that Michael was now a single parent. A single parent to an eleven year old boy.

Gob remembered the phone call. How could he not? It happened less than a week ago, at three a.m. on a cold December morning. The details were burned into his brain: the fading scent of sex lingering in the air, the nameless woman snoring on his pillow, the calmness to Michael's voice, the early December chill creeping its way through Gob's bones, the fact that it was going to be Michael's birthday in less than twenty-four hours. It was one of the worst experiences of his life, hearing Michael crumble the way he did, but as he watched George Michael cling onto his father's hand, his cheeks pink in the cold, he told himself there had to be hope left in this world somewhere.

Click.

A few weeks later, Michael told him: "She wanted to divorce me."

"I'm sorry--" Gob was blindsided for a moment, certain Michael and Tracey were supposed to be the happy couple in all of this. "--what?"

Michael didn't enjoy Gob staying around George Michael too often, claiming him to be a "bad influence", but the sitter cancelled and George Michael was too sad to be alone, so he called Gob to take over while he handled a few late night things at the company. The past few times he babysat for George Michael, they'd watched Star Wars without fail, and Gob was getting so tired of it he caved and bought George Michael some Monopoly pieces. He thought he'd get him the rest of the board game another time, but that the pieces would at least be enough for some make believe.

It wasn't so bad, though, babysitting. George Michael was a good kid, if not like an awkward photocopy of Gob's baby brother as they grew up, but he liked the same ice cream flavours Gob did and didn't mind when Gob took him out to impress the ladies as a "good single dad". They did, of course, have a tacit understanding that Michael wasn't supposed to know about the ice cream and pick-up game, and it was working pretty well so far.

Anyways, Michael shrugged and tossed one last piece of dirty laundry into the hamper. Gob was asked to do the washing, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't. "She hated that I had to wait for her to get better." He paused. "That, you know, being married to... to, to a sick person was weighing me down.

"She said--we haven't even lived together in months. That this was how she could make it right for me."

Gob's mouth was hanging open, but he couldn't find the energy to snap it shut. Who would divorce Michael?

Glancing up at him, Michael smiled sadly (as he so often did, Gob noticed) and chuckled. "I know," he said, then let out a sigh heavier than Gob thought he could carry. "Believe me. I know."

Then he left for work and Gob was left with George Michael. It turned out that Monopoly was useless without the board, but Gob decided to pull out all the stops as they played Return of the Jedi on the television: he held the lightsabre and all, made the schwoom schwoom noises as he fought his nephew. George Michael used to be really good at this, Gob supposed, as he wasn't sure what 'good' constituted in nerd world, but he was sure that having George Michael all distracted and a little sniffly was not what a good fight constituted. By the end of it George Michael decided to curl against Gob's side and pass out a full half hour before bedtime, and he wasn't even all that tuckered out.

Instead of waking George Michael up for their promised ice cream and pick-up game, Gob deposited him into his bed, awkwardly stood by the side of it, and then flipped the light off. He took a moment, however, to stand in the doorway and watch him sleep peacefully; Gob never had any particular want to make babies, but if he did, he thought a kid like George Michael wouldn't be the end of the world.

Click.

Rollo wouldn't stop bitching at him about the lack of magic practise, and if he weren't so fucking scary, Gob would definitely punch him in the kidney. The thing is, Rollo could probably take him (or at least match him punch for punch) and they had some Chinese New Year show coming up, so really, maybe they should try to smush in at least one more final practise before the actual gig.

If there was one thing Gob wanted as a kid, it wasn't to be a magician, but little Michael used to watch him with sparkling eyes every time he did it, and in the end it turned out that doing magic would help get him out of P.E., so it became a dream. What little Gob really wanted was a train set big enough to ride, but since that was more difficult, he was working on the whole being a magician thing, even though Michael didn't admire him any more and Gob had to demand to be taken seriously.

For the moment, he was the second half of a magic duo called The Magicians Named Gob and Rollo, and they were good at explosions and dancing and handkerchief shit and sometimes doves. It wasn't glamorous (yet, but Gob couldn't find a right set of legs for that level up) and they didn't make much money (yet, but Gob had dreams of starting a Magician's Alliance, and he felt if he kissed his dad's ass enough he could get some cash from him), but either way, Gob loved getting up on stage and blowing people's minds, even if it meant his family thought he was an idiot. At least he got free drinks at the Gothic Castle. (Gob was a man with his priorities in order.)

They finalised their third song's choreography for the show (to It's My Life by Bon Jovi, which was too slow for Gob's tastes, but Rollo was sick of The Final Countdown) when they took a break.

"So, your brother’s wife wanted to divorce him?" Rollo asked, dice flicking between his long fingers.

Gob sipped his water, nodding. "Yeah. Something about how dying made her a shitty wife."

"That's like some E.R. level shit," Rollo replied, flicking the dice out onto the stage.

"Worse is that my brother's pretending it didn't matter to him." Gob pressed the bottle of water against his lower lip and pondered, leaning against the speaker on the floor. "I mean, come on, his wife was dying and now she was talking about leaving him? Christ..." He trailed off for a moment, looking elsewhere with a sigh. "He gets this sad little smile sometimes, and it's like. Just cry already, for Pete's sake. Fucking robot."

Rollo snorted, then moved to gather their dummy doves up, if only because they didn't want to kill any more doves practising before the actual show. It took a few moments before Gob returned to planet earth and watched Rollo do what he did best for a minute, and then he smiled and picked the last dove up to go back to him.

Click.

"What is that? What are you doing with your hands?"

Gob jumped, startled out of his skin and nearly dropping his champagne flute. He was never that fond of champagne--it was too girly, really--but hey, it was free, and he was never the type to turn down a free drink, even if it came from his mother.

"God, mother, you scared me." Gob scowled and looked away from her.

Lucille straightened, reaffirming her spot next to Gob and brushing imaginary dust from the shoulders of his suit. It was the fourth year in a row that she was hosting this annual Valentine's party, and Gob was having a hard time remembering why he always went along with her. Didn't he move out of Balboa Towers, like, six years ago? And yet Gob still found himself returning to her stupid parties whenever she invited him. He could admit that sometimes his mother was amusing, but that was only when she wasn't being a total bitch to him.

"That horrible thing with your hands, what was that about?" she asked again, holding her own hands up in mockery.

Gob frowned deeper. "A picture."

"I'm sorry," Lucille began, crinkling her nose at him. "What was that?"

"I was taking... a picture, mum," Gob replied, irritated. He lifted his hands again as if holding a camera, framing a shot of George Michael in a sweater that matched Michael's while his father poured juice for him. The two of them were talking, Michael looking like he was scolding him a little, and George Michael looking panicked because his father was pouring him juice and he didn't know how to hold the plate of cake he had with just one hand.

Lucille looked at him blankly for a moment, then rolled her eyes before leaving, muttering, "Don't even have a camera with you--who dropped you on the head as a baby?"

Gob drank the last of his champagne, dropping it on a waiter's tray, then scowled as he crossed his arms in annoyance. He just wanted to make a memory, was that so bad?

"If mother was in a sweater like that, I'd want to make a memory of it, too," Buster piped up behind him, hands landing on Gob's shoulders and massaging him until Gob smacked him away in protest. "But only because it'd really go with her hair, I think, just like how it goes with George Michael's, while on Michael it's more..."

"Oh my God, why are you people trying to talk to me?" Gob groaned, exasperated. "Would you leave me alone, please?" He really needed another drink, and now that he thought about it he wanted some of that cake that George Michael was having, and he didn't want it to run out before he got to it.

An hour later, George Michael was passed out, his arms folded atop a table and his cheek resting on them. Michael rubbed a hand lightly up and down his back.

Gob, unsure why he was still at this party, stood across the room, and managed a small smile as he brought his hands up once more. This time, he made sure he was out of his mother’s eye-shot.

Click.

"I was in a gay movement once," Tobias told him, apropos of nothing during a rare visit to Newport Beach. Maeby and Lindsay were at the banana stand with George Michael and his father, leaving Gob here to test out his brand new Segway while Tobias was... Tobias.

Gob coughed, turning slowly with wide eyes that likely betrayed him. Tobias was smiling, rocking on the balls of his feet as if announcing he was some gay protester to his brother-in-law was no big deal. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Oh, it was wonderful," Tobias continued, smiling off into space. "They had all the best parties! I met a lot of beautiful women there, but, well, it turned out they were more into other women--except Lindsay, who, I think, liked this man named Robert who had the strongest arms..."

"Uh. Okay?" Gob turned away from him again, shaking his head. He'd always suspected Tobias of it, had done so for years now, but an actual gay experience was news to him.

Wait. Lindsay was with lesbians?

"Well, I'm just saying," Tobias commented just over Gob's shoulder, making him jump and squeak a little and nearly fall off his Segway. Tobias placed a hand on his back to steady him, chuckling. "Maybe you should take Michael to one, what with how worried you've been. They're really quite fun, and someone of his dry humour would be well appreciated. Maybe you can even do that today! I'll take George Michael off your hands, and--"

Gob stared at him for a long moment, confused as all fuck about why George Michael would be his responsibility. Then he remembered that Michael had been calling the sitter less and Gob more and. Huh. When was the last time Gob actually played ice cream and pick up?

"--it would be fabulous, just fabulous." Tobias clapped his hands together, smiling.

Click.

George Michael's friends took him out for the weekend, so Michael was taking a break and trying to be happy that his son's friends were making him feel better as much as they could. Gob knew that Michael appreciated these efforts, even if he worried about his son all the time and not enough about himself. The world might be shitty, what with Tracey passing on, but at least Michael still had George Michael, and from the way Michael treated him and looked at him and talked about him, George Michael was probably the greatest thing he could ever have in his life.

Gob arrived at Michael's door at 7 p.m. with a case of beer and an action/thriller/semi-romance film, even though the romance was really just gratuitous D-cups with a muscled man. It was weird not having George Michael around, which he noticed every time Michael turned to where George Michael would often sit on the sofa as if he had to tell him to cover his eyes at the sex scenes, and then turned back at the television looking humbled.

George Michael's birthday was in a few weeks. Gob was continuing watching movies with him for reasons he couldn't quite figure out, but since Michael's decision to overwork meant he'd finished months' worth of it in a few weeks and also got himself some free time, sometimes Michael was initiated into the league of rebels as well (awful Darth Vader voice and lightsabre sound effects and all). In the back of his mind Gob thought that it was almost like they were a normal family, except for the fact that Gob was Michael's brother, and they both had dicks, and also Gob was pretty sure he was only thinking about Michael all the time because he was worried about Michael's well-being and nobody ever seemed to worry about the most functional Bluth in the family.

Whatever--he shrugged when the thought came to mind and grinned through it. Families were what you made of them, not what you were born with, so even though Michael was born his brother, they could be co-parents if Michael wanted them to be. Not that that would be a thing, Gob supposed, since even though he'd been concerned about Michael raising George Michael alone, a few months in showed his baby brother doing just fine.

At least, until they started drinking.

It was four beers and thirty minutes into the film when Michael lost it. Gob had never seen him cry and he wasn't sure what to do with himself--hug him? Pat him on the back? Awkwardly sit at the other end of the couch and wait it out? Yeah, he figured, he'd go with that one. Unfortunately, he survived only thirty seconds of silent weeping and watching Michael's back shake with the effort, curled up into himself, before he broke and slid back to pull Michael close to him.

"It'll be okay," Gob said, patting Michael awkwardly on the back. Of course, now wasn't the time to be thinking about how nice Michael smelled or, Jesus, how Michael used to hold Gob like this when he cried because of their parents, and how Michael had always been there for him, and how Gob was being there for him now, and how much he loved his brother and how being there for him the past few months had given him a weird sense of purpose. Now was the time to be comforting Michael, he told himself, even though Michael lifted his head to look at him with puffy eyes and tears streaming down his face...

And Gob thought, Oh, shit. I'm going to swoop on him.

So their lips met somewhere in the middle of all that, like some rift opened up in time and space and Gob was falling through it slowly. Part of him felt bad about taking advantage of his innocent brother in need, but Michael's lips were softer than he thought they would be (not that he imagined such things any more, no, of course not) and he wasn't exactly forcing himself onto said innocent brother. If anything, Michael was... kind of enthusiastically returning Gob's every kiss, every breath, every sigh. And then they pulled apart in tandem and Gob was frozen in the moment, torn between laughing with joy and screaming with terror.

What the hell did he just do?

Oh, right, he just made out with his baby brother. That was it.

Michael smiled a bit hazily for a moment, sending Gob's heart into a leap... before it plunged into darkness at the same time Michael's expression fell.

"Shit," Michael breathed, bringing one hand up to rub at his face.

"Yeah," Gob agreed. He wasn't sure what he was agreeing to, but he really wanted to get back to that part where they were kissing.

Michael stood, moving away, clicking the television off. He refused to look at Gob's face, and for one fleeting moment, Gob thought: holy crap, shit just got real. But then Michael turned and it was like all the joy had been sucked out of the room--Gob had a fleeting moment of wondering where the fucking Dementor was when he realised, no, it was just Michael staring him like that with a look Gob was all too familiar with.

"We can't do this," Michael said, and Gob could practically do the speech along with him.

"You're my brother," Gob said flatly, looking down at his hands. "You can't make a living as a magician. You're my brother. How do I explain it to George Michael? You're my brother, Gob, and I appreciate you being here for me, but we're brothers and we stopped doing this in high school for a reason, and..."

Looking back up, Gob saw the battle raging behind Michael's eyes for the first time in his entire life. There was want there, and need, and desire, and confusion, and sadness, and rage, and Gob always figured he'd only ever see that Molotov cocktail of emotion whenever he looked into the mirror, so it threw him off more than he wanted to admit.

But he grinned. "Hey, Mikey. It's okay. I get it."

He was at the door when Michael caught his arm.

"Listen, Gob," Michael said quietly. "I can't. I want to, but I can't. I have to think of George Michael. I have to be a mother and a father, and this is wrong, and I just... I can't."

Gob laughed, pulling his arm away. "I know," he replied. "George Michael comes first--needs good role models or something, right? Look, let me know if you want me to have him next week for Star Wars. Or not, 'cause I get it either way."

Holding up his hands, Gob fought back the tears burning at the corners of his eyes.

Click.

It's almost Christmas! Gob wrote in scribbly, awkward lettering. Hope you've been a cool kid. You write to Santa yet? Do you still do that? I'll be home in time for Gangy's Christmas party, so you better be there, kiddo. It's been way too long.

Gob finished the letter off and stuffed it in an envelope. It was the latest in a long string of pen pal letters to his favourite guy. Sometimes he asked about Michael, but he kept it as light and fun as possible. George Michael was going to be in middle school soon, too smart for his own good and not confident enough to make friends. Gob missed him everyday.

He sighed, leaning back in his especially comfy seat. They were cruising at about ten thousand or so metres above the ocean, coming back from a show in Denver. Following "the incident" (as Rollo named it), The Magicians Named Gob and Rollo had a good show, received sponsors, and earned enough for Gob to start the Magicians' Alliance. Gob threw himself into magic, making new tricks with even better music, but creative differences with Rollo had them splitting as a duo a few months in. He said something about how Gob shouldn't reference Star Wars so much in his tricks on his way out, and Gob had only countered with the Force being the most magical thing the world probably had to fucking offer.

Either way, his new manager, a pretty girl named Marta trying to make her big break in acting, curiously looked on as Gob sealed his latest letter to George Michael. The return letters had all been wonderful, pictures of George Michael and his father as they went through their year littered throughout. It'd been months since Gob last saw him... since he last saw his dad.

"You're becoming famous now, Gob," Marta said, head cocking slightly. Gob wasn't sure how to deal with her, because his instinct told him to flirt with her and fuck her, but Marta had two kids, and experience told him that wanting to fuck anyone with a kid would probably end in disaster. "You might have to be more careful about what you put in your letters."

Gob snorted, reclining in his chair. "I doubt the press'll be real interested in my twelve year old penpal," he replied. He could hear Marta breathe a quiet sigh of relief, then wondered what it was she thought of him if she thought Gob was writing dirty or inappropriate letters. Granted, Gob didn't have the best image, but still--he was an all right guy. Gob Bluth, upstanding citizen! (Never mind the fact that she'd seen him bring girls back to his hotel room, and...)

By the time they were back in Newport Beach, Gob had one more show, another woman in another hotel room, bad food, and a midnight run to get himself some booze. More than once he'd found himself missing Star Wars night--even the lightsabres. He told George Michael this in one of his letters and even went out to buy a Stormtrooper sticker for the seal.

It was Christmas Eve when he actually found himself a spot of free time. Gob couldn't believe it'd been over a year since Tracey passed, and that it'd been nearly a year since he last spoke to Michael. Nine months and fourteen days, to be exact, but who was counting?

His mother's party was already in full swing when Gob got there, fancy wine in hand. Marta tagged along this year, both her sons excited about free food and unlimited juice and the chance to relax with their mother for a few days. They weren't even totally through the door when Buster found himself startled by Marta, and then enchanted by her, and Gob had to reach out to grab his shoulder and say: "Yeah, I'll forgive you for not saying hi to your brother first, but try not to scare my manager off with your weird, huh?"

Marta tilted her head, looking back. "What was that?"

"Oh!" Buster jumped, half hiding behind his hands as he glanced away. Gob released him, watching as Buster stumbled away, and Marta was left doing the same for a moment before her sons tugged her along. Shaking his head, he scanned the room for his own special people, and--

There they were, like no time had passed at all. Except George Michael was taller, his hair was cut shorter, and those god-awful dental equipment was finally out of his mouth. He was wearing a suit, as he tended to for Christmas things, but Gob could tell this one was new--he was growing up now, the nerd, and he needed new suits and. Gob's heart was in his throat, weird enough, and when he heard George Michael call "Uncle Gob!" before heading over to him and giving him a hug, he swore to God he was going to start crying somehow.

Gob laughed, though, and returned it. "It's good to see you too, kiddo." And he meant it, because as they pulled back he could see George Michael was doing much better than he was when Gob had last seen him. The chubby was back in his cheeks, in the same way that Michael's cheeks were when he was a kid, and...

A voice he'd been waiting for said, "Click."

So Gob turned, looking at Michael, who was smiling at him with hands raised in camera formation. Gob's stomach went tight as feelings came rushing back anew: the want, and the need, and the fear of the unknown. But all these were pushed away as Michael wrapped an arm around George Michael and used the other to pull Gob's head down into his shoulder, his lips brushing over his temple.

"Welcome home," he said, bringing his hand down to grasp Gob's free one. "It's good to see you again."

George Michael looked between them, confused for a moment, but then settled for taking Gob's other hand in the same way Michael's did. "Yeah, like dad said."

"Like dad said," Gob echoed, his fingers squeezing over the two hands he wanted to hold most. He'd never thought himself to be the clinging type, but found that it was more comforting than its vulnerability would ever lead anyone to believe.

#ooc prob? lol #bluthcest #gob x michael #*#*fics #*f: ad #otp: i do it for you

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ashroseevans · 7 years

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How Far Will You Go? 2

When we entered her room, the door clicking shut behind us, I spoke.

"You don't have to do this, you know," I said.

Momo sighed. "Yes, I do," she said and looked at me. She had a sad sort of look on her face.

"Can't you just tell father that men aren't exactly your cup of tea?" I pleaded. "He might not get angry if it's you."

"I don't want to take that chance," she turned and started pulling clothes out of her wardrobe and leaving them on her bed for the maids to come in and pack them up for her.

I sighed. "You really don't have to do this," I said again.

"The more you say it won't make it true," she replied and looked at me. "I'm the eldest. I have more responsibility placed upon me then you."

I groaned. "Father just doesn't want to go against your mother and place any sort of that responsibility on me, you mean."

"Be that as it may," she said. "It doesn't change the fact that it's my duty to get married to Shoto Todoroki."

"If you just came out to them, maybe Father would stop picking out the incredibly attractive men for you and throw them my way," I muttered mostly as a joke.

I was rewarded with a laugh from Momo. "I see, so that's why you want me to come clean to father," she said.

I smirked. "I mean come on. He matched you up with Katsuki Bakugo and he was very attractive if not a total hot-headed jerk," I said. "While he brought Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu over for me. I mean, come on, really?"

"You and Katsuki would have gotten along swimmingly if you didn't keep glaring at each other every time you were in the same room," Momo mused.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, yeah. I could tell that he wanted me. Every time he said I'll kill you that murderous gaze was just so... lust-full," I said sarcastically.

She laughed. "I'm sure you could have made him want you if you stopped being so sarcastic."

"Mhmm. Because everyone wants a rage monkey at their side for the rest of their lives," I said.

"Yeah, yeah," Momo said. "That's not really the point."

"What is your point then?"

"No matter what we do, we can't change fathers mind," she said sadly.

I sighed. "Have you even heard anything about this Shoto Todoroki?" I asked.

Momo shrugged. "I know about as much as you do, which is just that he's the prince I'm to marry because Father said so."

I sat down at the edge of Momo's bed. "I guess we can look forward to meeting him and finding out for ourselves, then," I said. I ran a hand through my hair. "At least one things for certain."

"And that would be?"

"He's probably really attractive," I said and looked at my sister. "Father did pick him out for you and he gives you all the good ones," I added in a mock jealous tone.

Momo rolled her eyes. "We never know. It's a diplomatic marriage. He could be totally gross," she said and a smile on her face.

"You'd think that anyway," I said with a grin.

"Not my fault I was born this way," she joked back.

I rolled my eyes. "I should probably pull out my wardrobe for the journey," I said and stood up.

Momo nodded. "I'll meet you in your room when I'm done here."

* * *

The rest of the day passed without much incident and the next morning, Momo and I were hustled from our rooms and to the front of our castle. I looked tired. I was tired. My hair was messier then normal and I looked ready to pass out. I wasn't exactly a morning person.

My fire quirk, Phoenix, made it easier to me to stay up into the early hours of the morning and I abused it with reckless abandon to read books that my father and step mother didn't want me to read because they were "frivolous and unrealistic."

Momo on the other hand, looked well rested. Her hair was done up the way it always is. Her dress was pristine and she was wide awake. More so the even me. Another reason why she's my better half.

A carriage stood waiting for us in the path leading up to the doors of our home. Our trunks were packed and tied to the back. A coachman sat on the top with the reigns in his hand. Momo and I shared a glance before we turned to our parents behind us.

"We'll be traveling up there in the early spring for the wedding," Father said.

Momo nodded. "Yes. I understand," she said. "I look forward to seeing you there."

Father smiled at her as she curtsied to him and turned to get into the carriage with the help of the coach man. When he turned to me, he lost his smile. I didn't say anything and just curtsied to him as well before I too walked towards the carriage.

It wasn't something I wasn't used to. But sometimes I wish I knew the unconditional parental love that Momo got from our father and her mother.

Once inside the carriage I took my seat. When the doors closed the carriage started moving and Momo started fussing over my hair.

"You really should learn to sleep earlier then you do," she sighed at me.

"My sleep schedule has already been indoctrinated," I said and let her fix my bedstead. "If I change now and woke up all chipper in the morning, people will wonder if I've been possessed."

Momo rolled her eyes and when her fingers weren't quite doing the trick in getting the knots out of my hair, she waited a moment until a hairbrush materialized from her arm. She pulled it out and brushed my hair. I just let her and yawned.

"What's even the point of making me look presentable now?" I said. "We won't even arrive until the day after tomorrow. My hair is just going to get messy again."

"We're representing our kingdom," Momo said. "We have to look pristine when we stop at the inns we are to stay out overnight."

I groaned. "I just hope that we can hear some rumors about Shoto from the inns in the next kingdom. I want to know what you're getting into."

Momo sighed. "It's Prince Shoto," she chided lightly. "And rumors aren't always true."

I rolled my eyes. "If he's Prince Shoto then why does no one address us as Princess?" I said. "It's always Lady or milady."

"You get hung up on the weirdest things," Momo said with a laugh.

"I'm tired. I bet in an hour when I'm awake, I won't even remember what I said right now," I said.

* * *

The trip out of the kingdom was boring. We were treated like what we were, Princesses, in the inns we stayed at just before we left our kingdoms boundaries. It was definitely more interesting once we entered King Enji's domain. The scenery seemed different, though I knew in my mind that it was all the same in a way. The forests that bordered our kingdoms were the same but once we passed through, I felt like I wasn't home anymore.

The inn we stayed at was nice, though we had to show documentation that we were who we said we were. Everyone seemed to know about Shoto and Momo's engagement so the maids of the inn treated Momo like she was already a queen while I got treated like her maid rather than her sister. It took some explaining before they treated me like the princess that I was.

At least I had heard some interesting things on the boy that would become my sister’s husband. As I had suspected, he was considered very handsome, though there was an ugly burn scar on his left eye. Many of the women I talked to told me that it didn't take away from his beauty. I also heard that his quirk was unparalleled in power. Not even his father had a quirk as powerful as his. I was rather curious to know if this was true. I'd have to see that one for myself.

The last thing I heard that was probably the most intriguing was that he and his father didn't have a good relationship. Not since his mother, the Queen had disappeared. And while he looked otherworldly in his beauty, he was cold and driven and was a contrary person. He was the type to refuse something just because his father was the one behind the idea. It had me wondering what his thoughts were on the engagement to my sister. I started to worry about her.

I, of course, relayed the information I gathered to my sister during the last leg of our journey, but she told me that she wasn't going to let rumors cloud her judgment on her husband to be. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and see for herself what kind of person he was. Even though it wouldn't matter one way to the other what he was like because regardless of if they didn't want to, the marriage was going to happen.

Needless to say, I didn't bring the rumors back up again. When we finally arrived at King Enji's castle, we were helped out. Our coachman knocked on the door. When the doors opened, King Enji was standing there already waiting. He gave us a smile that sent chills down my spine.

"Princess Momo Yaoyorozu and her sister Princess _____ ________. We've been expecting you," he said. "Please, come in."

"We're happy to have finally arrived," Momo said and we both politely curtsied to King Enji before we stepped inside. The doors closed behind us.

"I trust the journey wasn't too hard on the both of you?"

"We both fared well," Momo replied.

"Good. Then come with me. My children are eagerly waiting to meet you," King Enji said before he led us through the foyer of the castle and to another room that reminded me of a lounge.

When the doors opened, I saw five people standing all in a row. King Enji walked up to them and started to introduce them. I only barely paid attention until he spoke he name of his only daughter.

"This is Princess Fuyumi," he said and then put his hand on the young man standing next to her. His hair was red and white, split down the middle. His eyes were two different colors as well and when I noticed the scar on his face, before Enji even spoke, I knew what he was going to. "And this is Prince Shoto. As well as his personal knight, Kyoka Jiro."

Momo curtsied and bowed her head. "It's a pleasure to meet all of you," she said.

I did the same before straightening up. "I hope that you regard us kindly while we are guests in your home," I added, deciding it best to keep my manners about me.

The two boys walked up to us and gave us kind greetings while kissing the back of our hands. Fuyumi smiled sweetly at us and curtsied as well until the three of them were ushered out of the room, leaving just me, Momo, Kyoka, and Enji and Shoto Todoroki. An awkward silence descended upon us. Shoto was leering at me and I felt the distinct urge to leave the room. I felt uncomfortable and I took it as he would prefer to be alone with his fiancée. So naturally I glared right back at him. I was welcome here just as much as she was and no amount of childish stares from an ungrateful prince was going to scare me away.

Kyoka was sizing up Momo and I knew that Momo was looking around at the three faces wearily, waiting for someone to speak. Finally Enji cleared his throat and Shoto made a move. He walked up to my sister and placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you as well," he said, his voice carefully neutral. Then he moved on to me and kissed the back of my hand politely.

"Happy to make your acquaintance," I said, adding a bit of a cold edge to my voice. I did not appreciate the way he was leering at me and I'll be damned if I didn't let him know it.

Kyoka then walked up to us and bowed. "I'll do my best to protect the both of you while also fulfilling my duties to my prince," she said.

Momo smiled sweetly at her. "That is very kind of you," she said.

Kyoka straightened up and nodded to Momo before stepping back to stand behind Shoto. Enji clapped his hands once to try to defuse the rest of the awkward atmosphere before he spoke.

"All right. I'll have the maids escort the two of you to your rooms and let you get settled before supper," he said. "I hope you find your rooms to your liking."

"Thank you very much, your highness," Momo said and curtsied to him.

I did the same as well and the two of us let the maids lead us from the room and through the castle.

Read more My Hero Academia Stories (and others) here

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #todoroki #todoroki x yaoyorozu #yaoyorozu #how far will you go

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pointy-eared-muse · 7 years

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Graham... what have you done?

Quick poll, show of hands. How many of my fellow King’s Questers were emotional wrecks by the end of Chapter 5 of King’s Quest 2015, thinking about how sad and beautiful and right-in-the-feels it was? Most of you? OK, that’s totally fair and reasonable. You can put your hands down. Now, how many of you, at the end of Chapter 5, were staring at your screen in dawning abject horror because you realized that Graham’s final act may have destabilized the political futures of multiple countries? ...is it just me? Maybe one person there in the back? Anyone else? OK, let me explain. Spoilers ahead.

Now, I’m going to preface all this by saying I genuinely believe that Graham’s final decision was well-intentioned and motivated by love. I think he saw a great deal of himself in Gwendolyn and honestly thought that she would make an excellent queen. And, I do agree. I think Gwendolyn has the potential to be a great ruler one day.

Key phrase there: one day.

Because Graham literally just left his entire kingdom in the hands of a ten-year-old. (OK, I don’t actually know how old Gwendolyn is, but ten seems like a reasonable estimate.)

Now, I don’t doubt that Gwendolyn would be as well-supported as possible in her new role as queen. I don’t doubt that Valanice, Rosella, her parents, and pretty much everyone in the Daventry castle would be right there to help her. But still. She is a young girl. She has not yet developed the experience and maturity to be in that position. Both her father and grandfather were pretty young when they each became kings, and she is roughly half the age they were at the time. Look, I have a child about Gwendolyn’s age and I wouldn’t leave him in charge of breakfast, let alone a kingdom, and that’s under the best of circumstances. Well-intentioned as it may be, the chances of this ending well for Daventry aren’t very good, even with help. Somebody somewhere is bound to try and take advantage of her. But it’s more complicated than that.

See, the game strongly implies that both Gart and Gwendolyn are only children and don’t have any siblings. And if that is true, well, now, we have a problem. Because, with Gwendolyn becoming queen of Daventry... the Land of the Green Isles no longer has an heir-apparent. Whoops.

OK, I know what you’re thinking. Why not just have Gart and Gwendolyn swap places? She becomes queen of Daventry, and he becomes the future King of the Green Isles. Problem solved, right? Eh... maybe. Because that’s definitely going to make an uphill fight for the both of them. It’s unclear how much Gwendolyn has been coached at this point to lead a kingdom, but Gart has been being trained practically since birth to lead Daventry as the clear heir-apparent. He knows Daventry well, can easily identify addendums by number, understands the people, history, geography, dangers, and culture of Daventry. It’s his home. But chances are, he doesn’t know all that much about the Green Isles---it’s unfamiliar territory at best and bound to be a culture shock. And, to be honest, Gwendolyn will probably face similar struggles adapting to the Daventry way of life. But, here is a key difference between the two realms: on the whole, Daventry has been pretty chill about welcoming outsiders (goblins and evil wizards not withstanding). Land of the Green Isles, though? Land that is xenophobic enough that, by the request of its prior leaders, many maps either actively deny its existence or else deliberately misplace it so it is nearly impossible to find? Land where almost any ship that attempts to sail there and actually finds it ends up wrecked? Land of every island prepared to inventively kill any stranger who attempts to walk more than 5 feet inland from the shore? (If you’re wondering if I died a lot playing KQ6 as a kid, the answer is yes. Yes, I did.) Yeah... Even in the best possible circumstances, Gart’s going to need a lot of luck if he’s going have any hope of succeeding as the next heir to the Green Isles, assuming he even gets the position.

But wait, you say, during KQ6 wasn’t there a lot of instability and turmoil going on because of Alhazred’s meddling? And hasn’t he been gone for 30-ish years? You are correct, but that still doesn’t change the fact that the Green Isles is pretty inherently hostile to outsiders. Maybe some of that has changed under Alexander-Gwydion’s reign, but that kind of widespread cultural change is difficult to accomplish in one generation. Xenophobia and mistrust rarely ever truly go away---they’re more likely to just go underground for a while and then pop back up at the first favorable opportunity. And we actually don’t know how effective a ruler Alexander-Gwydion is. Yes, he earned the respect of the various island leaders during his adventuring there, but he wasn’t brought up being taught how to govern. It’s far more likely that Cassima is the true power on the throne of the Green Isles with Alexander-Gwydion being more of a figurehead. We like to assume that the two of them ushered in a new era of peace and prosperity for the Green Isles... but what if they didn’t? What if the situation there is still politically precarious?

Because, see, as previously noted, there are some conspicuous and unexplained absences in the newest King’s Quest game. One of them is Queen Cassima herself, and while we don’t actually know where she is or why, my guess is that she stayed behind in the Green Isles instead of following her family to Daventry because things may well fall apart without her maintaining a presence. And now, thanks to Graham, it’s just her there. With Gwendolyn being queen of Daventry, we don’t know when or if Alexander-Gwydion will return to the Green Isles (I’m thinking more likely “when,” but it could take a while, be it weeks, months or even years). And if the other islands perceive weakness or instability in the leadership of the Isle of the Crown, I’m pretty sure peaceful co-existence is not going to be the order of the day. Whether this means each island becomes more insular, or the bickering and in-fighting between them flares up and intensifies, or there are threats of an all-out coup, I don’t know, but all in all, more than likely, things aren’t going to be smooth and peaceful.

And then there’s Edgar, also conspicuously missing with no explanation as to where he is or why, or even a definitive canon answer as to whether or not he’s a part of the Cracker family tree. But for argument’s sake, let’s go with the generally-assumed belief that he is Gart’s father. That would mean Gart would have as much (and probably more, actually) claim to being part of the Etherian court as he would that of the Green Isles, since there he’s a direct descendant of the ruling family, rather than just the king’s nephew. And if you thought Green Isles politics and culture shock were hard... welcome to Faerie.

Now, the good news is that Oberon and Titania are effectively immortal, so the chances of Gart ever actually inheriting the throne and/or needing to lead are pretty small. If he did find his place in the Etherian court, it’d most likely be as a courtier, a liaison, an ambassador or something like that. At least, once he’s an adult. As a kid, especially, though, probably every fairy and their dragonet is going to want to get their grabby little hands on Gart, especially the dark ones. Because fairies are just weirdly obsessed with children in general, it’s far from the first time that wicked Etherians have tried to strike at Oberon and Titania through a child of their bloodline, and I still think it would be incredibly naive to assume that Lolotte and Malicia are the only threats to ever come out of Etherian society.

Again, we don’t actually know what happened to Edgar, but of the various theories I came up with, the one I like best is that Edgar has voluntarily (and heart-wrenchingly) separated from Rosella and Gart in an effort to keep them safe from the more dangerous factions of Etherian society. I firmly believe that Edgar is motivated by the desire to Do The Right Thing, but growing up under Lolotte and being brainwashed by Malicia have left their mark on him. He’s learned that the ends justify the means, he’s learned how to manipulate and deceive, how to plot and carry out plans in secret, how to literally get away with murder, and, most importantly, he’s learned how dark fairies generally think and behave. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, and he hates it, but he can’t think of a better solution to protect the people he loves most, so, while they stay in Daventry, he returns to Eldritch and Etheria, and at first, he tries lying. He denies he still has feelings for Rosella, denies that they have a child together. They can’t hurt his son if they don’t know he exists, after all. But Edgar’s more the type to deceive through misdirection and omission, and outright lies don’t spin easily off his tongue; he stammers and falters when he tries. Not to mention that any fairy with sufficient means, skill and determination can use Daventry’s cherished Magic Mirror as a window into the kingdom (if Genesta could, surely there are others, after all). Rumors spread quickly among fairies, and the idea of a precious half-human prince who doesn’t realize what he’s capable of and being poised to lead a kingdom one day is a terribly tempting target. Imagine what they could do with that impressionable mind, that untapped power... And if this sweet little prince could be taken... Etheria remembers the chaos that followed in the wake of losing their own Prince Edgar---how would Daventry handle the disappearance of its own heir? King Graham is growing older and fears dark magic... Goblins have been able to throw Daventry into disarray, and, overall, they’re downright primitive compared to the dark fairies of Etheria. If the forces of dark magic took their prince, there would be war, surely. And the humans would be no match against the fairies. Daventry would become theirs.

So, now Edgar has to switch tactics, because simple denial is pointless. It becomes a cat-and-mouse game, where the best defense is a good offense. It’s his fault that Daventry is at risk, so it’s his duty to prevent both personal tragedy and war between the realms. He’s on the proverbial front lines, rooting out the places where evil flourishes, doing all he can to quash the ambitions of those who would hurt Gart or Rosella and/or cause a war. Once in a while, maybe, he slips away to visit Daventry, to catch a glimpse of his son and his beloved Rosella. Quietly, he encourages sending Gart on adventures, to keep him away from the Magic Mirror where he might be spied upon, to hone the skills of survival, resourcefulness and handling adversity, because he will need them one day. Maybe out in the wilds, the magic in him will awaken, and he can practice it away from Graham’s potential worry and disapproval. Perhaps, just perhaps, it is Edgar who fervently pleads with Graham in hushed corners to not let Gart grow up too soon, to let him be a boy, to keep him sheltered from too much public attention. Don’t let him become king until he is too old to tempt those who would corrupt him. And Graham doesn’t---he ends up choosing his other grandchild to succeed him.

Meanwhile, Gart is being raised human. It’s a bittersweet prospect in Edgar’s eyes, having known what it’s like to grow up not knowing the truth of what you are, but, for now, it’s for the best. Gart doesn’t yet understand the sacrifices his father is making on his behalf, or the power that lies sleeping in his veins. He grows to believe that Daventry is his birthright, not realizing that someday his father’s battles may become his own. One day, he will understand, but that day may come sooner than expected with his younger cousin now the acting queen. There’s a chance the dark fairies may try to use her to get to Gart, appealing to her youth, her innocence, her own fascination with magic.

Daventry has never been more vulnerable in living human memory. And two other nations may be on the brink of open conflict because of it.

...long story short, if there’s a follow-up game to this, I really hope it’s about Gwendolyn and Gart trying to navigate the political hellscape they’ve just inherited.

#kings quest #kings quest 2015 #spoilers #theories #graham no #Daventry is in so much trouble

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aroundtheworldin18years · 5 years

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Well….we have only gone and won £100k on a scratchcard!!!!

That’s right…ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND smackaroonies!

Lynne went out yesterday morning to drop Lily-Belle at school and popped into the local shop for ‘essentials’. As she queued she thought, ‘do you know what, if that couple down the road can win £115 million, surely we might get lucky and win a few quid that could pay for our next holiday’. A few scratches later, winner winner chicken dinner…£100k…we’re still letting it all sink in! Madness!

Now, some of our readers already know that Mummy is the budget Queen but lover of all things holidays! Not content with the cold-cash making a cosy home in our bank account, she has come to the conclusion that life is far too short and has decided to blow the lot on seeing those places that we have dreamed of for so long. After a long night checking out villas on Clickstay, we now have our TOP 10 TRAVEL GOALS 2019 plans in place.

So here goes, our TOP 10 TRAVEL GOALS 2019…..excited!

February

It’s the middle of winter here on the island of Ireland and snow has fallen across the province, so we’ve decided the first trip of 2019 should be to somewhere warm, a place where we can rid ourselves of our pasty white skin…Australia it is then. Our first trip will take us to the beautiful town of Cairns to see one of the Seven Wonders of the Natural World; the Great Barrier Reef! Sea Temple 205 Palm Grove looks stunning and the girls are going to love the pool. Mummy is looking forward to some R&R in the onsite Spa, and daddy, well…I’m just hoping to join up the freckles to get a ‘ginger’ tan!

Sea Temple 205 Palm Grove: click to view Cost: very reasonable at £3,857 dingo dollars.

March

March 2019 is a BIG month in the Callaghan household; it’s Mummy’s big 4 0 birthday and also our 15th wedding anniversary! We spent our honeymoon in the Maldives so the beautiful Olana Beachfront Apartment that we have chosen is right on the beach in the Black River region of Mauritius. Perfect location to explore the beautiful Black River Gorges National Park. There are so many wonderful things to do on the island but we are especially looking forward to snorkelling in the crystal clear water and watching the dolphins go by whilst eating breakfast!

Olana Beachfront Apartment: click to view Cost: prepare to be amazed…only £3,108 which is equivalent to a large bucket of sea pearls.

April

It’s still cold on the island of Ireland so we are sticking with a warm sunny destination. Well, why not, we have just won £100k on the lottery! Although we love our holidays, neither of us have done the backpacking craze, and in all honesty, we are not about to start! Thailand is one of those places loved by backpackers so we thought we must pay it a visit! Booking a Villa in Koh Samui seems to be very popular and now we can see why! Absolutely stunning, and we’re sure you’ll agree that the Exclusive Five Bed Beach Front Villa on Koh Samui is also absolutely stunning too! What are you planning on seeing and doing I hear you ask…SO MUCH! Swim with turtles at Koh Tao, check out the Big Buddha shrine and take in the spectacular Namuang Waterfall.

Exclusive Five Bed Beach Front Villa on Koh Samui: click to view Cost: definitely not for budget conscious backpackers, £17,412. That’s a lot of wonga!

May

For those of you who follow our blog, you will know that we amor Italy and find it impossible to stay away. Winning so much money on the lottery is never going to change that! Last year we stayed in a fantastic campsite in Tuscany. We also spent an afternoon in the beautiful city of Florence which was far too short. I remember driving up to Piazza Michaelangelo and going past the most amazing houses so we thought, ‘why don’t we stay somewhere like that’. Not the cheapest but how amazing does this Florence Dream Villa look…Mummy is really hoping it comes with a live-in Chef to make her favourite Penne Arrabiatta..don’t ask! The ‘Penne Arrabiatta’ is a whole post by itself!

Florence Dream Villa: click to view Cost: not campsite rates at a whopping £18,475

July

As parents we try our best to not have the girls miss school so we plan on making the most of the 2019 summer holidays! The girls have always wanted to visit Disney so we’ve seen that there’s a great Villa To Rent In Four Corners, Florida. It’s my (non-disclosed age) birthday on the 1st and of course Independence Day is on the 4th July, so I’m sure it will be a truly memorable holiday. Disney is definitely on the ‘visit’ list and we also need to head over to Clearwater Marine Aquarium to see Winter from Dolphin Tale. Lily-Belles ultimate dream is to swim with rescued dolphins Winter and Hope!

Villa To Rent In Four Corners, Florida: click to view Cost: cheap(ish) at £5,232, we aren’t going to spend much time here apart from chilling in the pool.

This next trip isn’t terribly exciting but we have been asking Mummy’s parents to have a holiday with us and the girls for quite some time. Mummy really doesn’t understand why they don’t want to travel with us; but if I was them, I wouldn’t want to travel with us either! The Callaghan Posse are ALWAYS late, The Maclaine Crew are ALWAYS early! And who needs the added stress of being late when on holidays (Lynne, she thrives on it). Anyway, her Dad finally agreed that we would all go on a short holiday to Scotland! If we are going to Scotland I have decided that we should become King and Queen in a Timeless Castle. What do you think of this beautiful Scottish Castle located in the Scottish Borders? Perfect for us all to have our own space; if you know what I mean, and for Father-in-Law to enjoy the rolling hills and local heritage.

Timeless Castle: click to view Cost: this trip will empty the sporran of £8,567 but I’m certain it’ll gain me a few Brownie points!

August

Historically, most August’s in Ireland the weather is shocking and wet! Irish summer is normally over before it has even begun, so we have decided that we will probably need to catch a few rays after our trip to bonnie Scotland! Greece is a country that we have never been to; it looks absolutely stunning in photos and we love the beautiful white washed villas. Oh yes, we are also very fond of falafel, so where better than Greece to get the authentic deal! As we are not expecting for the ‘in-laws’ to have had a change of heart about travelling with us after their Scottish stay, a little villa for four is all that is require.d or desired. The Zephyros Guesthouse in Santorini looks perfect with it’s white-washed walls and tiled terraces. We especially love the outdoor seating area and I think you will agree that it is definitely ‘insta-worthy’. In a word…wow!

Zephyros Guesthouse: click to view Cost: £6,270 I’m getting seriously concerned about what is left in the ‘scratchcard’ money pot!

Our Top 10 Travel Goals 2019 list would not be complete if we didn’t live it up in the South of France. The town of Molleges is calling to us and we have totally fallen in love with this rustic villa named Water Lily House. Picture perfect! This ‘gorgeous gaff’ is just how we would expect a dreamy French villa to look. Astonishing and just perfect to relax in before the start of the new school term. The grounds are like something from a 1930s movie and have you seen the cooker…not that I/we plan on cooking! Lily-Belle and Matilda can’t wait to take a dip in the pool and tackle the climbing frame. No trip to the South of France would be the same without ‘rubbing shoulders’ with the rich and famous in Saint-Tropez…don’t mind if we do!

Water Lily House: click to view Cost: £14,561, well it is the South of France. Not known for cheapy-cheapy!

December

I have to admit that I’m not a big fan of Christmas or New Year. Personally I would prefer to go away for 2 weeks at this time and come home when it’s all over and normality has returned to the home. Mummy always refuses to holiday at this time due to the excessive cost. There’s no excuse now, we’ve just won mega-bucks on a scratchcard. Val d’Isere here we come. This delightfully characteristic French ski chalet is what dreams are made of; just look at those views!

Chalet Mont Blanc: click to view Cost: £18,733 so I don’t think Santa will be coming this year….he’s skint!

Last, but by no means least, New Years Eve in (drum roll please…drrrrrrr) NEW YORK CITY! What better way to end 2019, fabulous year of travel; than by ringing in the New Year in Times Square. There are no villas in NYC but we have are really lucky to have found this Gorgeous 2 Bedroom Duplex In Manhattan. A lovely apartment that is centrally located. There will be lots of clothes shopping of course; not by Mummy, but me, one can never have too many shoes you know…that is if we have a penny left in the pot!!

Gorgeous 2 Bedroom Duplex In Manhattan: click to view Cost: Saving for the shoe shopping spree so £3,093 all in…bargain!

Ok, if you’ve got this far we have a HUGE CONFESSION to make…….

….we haven’t actually won the £100k on a scratchcard…fooled ya! This post is our entry into the Clickstay Travel Blogger Competition for the chance to win a £600 Clickstay™ voucher!

We apologise for trying to pull the wool over your eyes, harmless fun, but we also hope you enjoyed reading our Top 10 Travel Goals 2019 post. Rest assured, if we do win £100k or more, then these ‘fantasy’ trips will become a reality. If you tally up above, these trips come to £99,308… a little left over for Daddy to buy shoes in New York City. Win a £100k on a scratchcard…if only…in our dreams!

Around the World In 18 Years would really appreciate your VOTE for us to be in with the chance of winning a £600 holiday voucher from Clickstay. It’s not going to pay for that stunning Italian Chateau or the beachside villa in Koh Samui, but out of this world accommodation is not what is important to us for our holidays. What is? Spending quality time together as a family when we travel!

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TOP 10 TRAVEL GOALS 2019 Well….we have only gone and won £100k on a scratchcard!!!! That's right...ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND smackaroonies! Lynne went out yesterday morning to drop Lily-Belle at school and popped into the local shop for 'essentials'.

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