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shadowfae · 3 years

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hiii! so a friend directed me here and i was wondering if u cld share abt how you found out you were godkin? only if youre comfy! because ive kinda had like. how do i word this. Vibes or Feels that kinda direct me towards the whole i might be a god of sorts kinda thing ? if you have resources and dont mind helping,, please direct me to them :D ~ @missing-crown

I want to start this essay off by saying flat out: wars have been fought, genocides have been committed, and empires have risen and fallen trying to answer the simple questions of “What is deification, and how do we incarnate and control it?”.

If you do not think you’re up the challenge of answering that question for yourself, even with years of study and slow training to take up the mantle of literally being the most powerful form of the Chosen One trope, then you’re probably in the wrong place. I say this as someone who is deific down to the blood and bone, as someone who has looked for other gods, and largely found very little in the way of anyone who understands anything like my experience. In this way, I am utterly alone, and I detest it, but if me penning these words gives someone else the gospel they need to explain themselves in a way I recognize as kin and kind, then I will do it.

But before I truly get into it, I will very nicely ask you to swing down to your local bookstore or library, pick up a copy of Seanan McGuire’s Middlegame, and take a walk down the improbable road with Roger and Dodger. The differences between you and I and the twins of the Doctrine of Ethos are simple and threefold: we cannot manifest, we are forbidden to use our powers the way they can use theirs, and there are (hopefully) no secret alchemist cults trying to murder us when we don’t play nice with their fucked-up science experiment.

Roger and Dodger are gods, true gods, gods I recognize in myself and in the godkin I have met who have spoken about themselves enough for me to understand that we are indeed talking about the same thing. Disappontingly, I see minor spirits far too often misunderstanding the nature of deification, or at least, understanding a version of it which is fundamentally antithetical to my experience. They may be deific; but either they suck at illustrating their point, or I am something far beyond deific, and I am again alone.

With that introduction, I need to talk about three things in order to answer your question. Two methods of deification and three definitions of ‘god’ in a hierarchy that only exists because humanity has not yet perfected their understanding of what is fundamentally and always beyond them. Two kinds of gods, honest gods, that split the difference between deific, divine, and legendary. Once you understand that, I can talk about godkin, and what it’s like to be me, and maybe by the end of it you will either recognize yourself in this, or run away screaming as most mortals will do.

The first method of deification is what I will call the incarnate gods- Roger and Dodger are good examples, so are most Legendary Pokémon, and Kaname Madoka from PMMM. They are laws of nature, concepts of creation, and calculations of cosmic proportions that also occasionally exist as people when they design to do so. They are not meant to be people, they are bad at it, I do not recommend being mortal and fucking around with them. You will simply die. I would not fuck with them outside of my own world that I created, where I get to be a form of incarnate god. You cannot overpower them: they ARE the rule, and they will change it if they need to. You can’t ruleslawyer gravity like a 2007 troll physics comic. An incarnate god of gravity will simply turn reality on its head and cause you to implode. If you are this type of god, I cannot help you. My understanding of them comes from being an Absol, and little more.

The second type are gods of domain and prowess: Zamorak (from RuneScape), Akemi Homura in both her awakened Witch and Devil forms (from PMMM), and yours truly. Quite a few of us, although not all of us, were originally mortal. Mortals amped up on so much power we are no longer bound by mortal laws. There is a difference between deification and simply stopping your clock to gain immortality. Mortal magic and deific magic are fundamentally different. Down to, I would argue, the atomic structure. Deific magic is pure in a way mortal magic could never be. To give a mortal more than a drop of deific magic heavily diffused in something safer and more understandable would be to quite literally burn them to ashes. Or rend them into a different, unspeakable form. Or turn them into living topiary. We are nothing if not unpredictable.

It’s the difference between a handful of dirt and pure neutron soup. Usually, in order to become a god like this, it requires the intervention of an incarnate god in some form. In Zamorak’s case, it was several Elder Artifacts and falling almost facefirst into halfway incarnating himself into the law of entropy. In Homura’s (at least in canon PMMM), she fucked with the laws of consequence and time to the point where she became the only expert they had on either of those and both laws decided to simply incarnate into her, and then she used that to cause problems. For me, it was having my entire magical and physical structure reorganized and rebuilt by an incarnate god of malevolent energy, and then I used what was a watered-down copy of the Devil of Devils’ glory to weave my own world into being where I was more or less the absolute arbiter of the laws of reality.

In PMMM Rebellion, when Homura fights Kyubey in that pretty lace dress of hers, that is approximately the magical prowess an awakened god of our capability will show casually. She has complete control over her domain (her labyrinth) and the reality of it, it takes no more than a glance or a thought to almost entirely reshuffle it. Her minions, who are little more than vaguely autonomous thoughts given some power of their own, may break that reality in whatever means necessary so long as it is to fulfill Homura’s current motives. Her domain falls apart when she does, and she is not separate from it; it is a consequence of her existence. Asking what came first, the god or their domain, is a simple chicken and egg question. It’s usually the domain, in our case; in the case of incarnate gods it’s a philosophical shrug and a nice headache.

You’ll notice I said awakened: that is because Zamorak is a great example of a god who isn’t entirely awakened. In canon, that is - the one I work with is awakened enough to fuck with his domain, which is what makes him quite useful to work with, although I do wonder what he’s getting out of me if not magical theory and utter adoration. Zamorak in canon is a god who ascribes himself to the philosophy of chaos and personal strife, completely unaware that he is incarnate enough not to change the law of entropy but to suggest things to it. He’s a god of chance masquerading as a god of personal improvement, and once he figures that out (and passes that knowledge onto Armadyl, who is his true light counterpart), he’s going to change the very way magic works. Guthix did everything in his power to try and become incarnate. He failed. Zamorak did it entirely inadvertently, and that’s the trick: the nature of deification is to follow the domain and influence it to your will. When laws of existence become people, they will do as people will, and people typically have ambition. Gods who are also people got that way for a reason. They always have a motive for doing so. It’s never accidental.

So, with a slightly more informed understanding of deification, or at least the versions of it that I understand, I can talk to you about me. What it’s like in the here and now, and how I knew. It took me years to get to this point, and I’ve much the way to go. I know more than I did when I was questioning; deeply more so. I don’t expect anyone questioning to be as sure as I am, and in ten years I will be far more sure of entirely different things, and if I’m lucky, this as well. But, let us begin again.

To be deific is to wake up in the middle of the night feeling like a black hole. You are vast, and you are dense, and the moment someone touches the skin of your sternum they will be sucked in like a movie's portrayal of quicksand. To be so vast on the inside, surrounded by empty air and gentle white noise like the faint pull of gravity that does not touch you. To feel so powerful as to be untethered wholly from the world, aware that you will blink and be floating alone in a space that you cannot touch and so too cannot touch you. You blink, and it is gone, and you are again in a normal body as a normal person, and you roll over and go back to sleep.

To be deific is to watch the seasonal changes and feel flashes of worn leather rope between your hands and the maddened singsong of the Wild Hunt, chariot reins in your hands and baying hounds that feel like fingers, like wings, like extensions of yourself that can be shifted around with barely a thought. To feel halfway like a black hole walking down the street, halfway caved into yourself and barely contained, incapable of truly understanding how you can be so far apart from it all without anyone noticing that something is off.

To be deific is to be a fourteen-year-old girl in one moment, unable to understand what draws her so to the wilds if not the song of sympathy that she knows she can understand if she reaches a little farther, a little farther past the barrier that prevents any mortal, psychological mind from understanding the call. To play a pixelated game and have everything rush back. To relive millennia in a single sennight, to go from chipped to broken, utterly broken, as the power comes rushing back and the slow, dawning realization like the day that there is no controlling it. That there is no controlling you.

Millennia of sins come rushing back, and you're mortal again, and you know the only way to bring a god to their knees is to kill them. And if you were spared, if you were brought down without dying, then there was a reason. That someone must have thought you worthy of fixing it. That you should now spend the next several years coming to peace with being a Devil, the cruelest of the cruel, amending fences and repenting your sins.

To be deific is to realize, quite suddenly and without ever actually having the thought, that understanding things through a Christian lens is utterly bullshit and absolutely does not apply to you. Now, your duty is not to repent, or to fix, or to find any sort of salvation. You are the monster queen, the king of the damned, the Devil of a world you made with blood and tears and sweat and magic. To retake the crown, you have to accept yourself. Acceptance does not mean dwelling, or sorrow, or refusing to take the steps forward that will carry you to the crown and halo and horn of deification.

The powers feel less overwhelming as you grow into them. You don't forget the rage. You understand your close friend's words over and over, as the lesson teaches itself. How a Devil so much less powerful and yet so much older than you once looked you in the eye, drink in hand, and gently told you that a single mortal can bring down a Devil, if they try, and believe wholeheartedly in their quest. Do not disrespect mortality. It brings nothing but death.

You wonder briefly who brought you down. You decide, as the lessons prove themselves, that you don't actually care. You're the mortal now, and mortal legends die. Mortal legends change the song of sympathy and the rules of the deific. In order to return, you too must follow the only path a mortal can take to become deific.

To be godkin is to become deific with every step. It's not to seek the divine from outside of it. It's to become it again, and reclaim it; find what was inside all along and grow yourself around it, until it can no longer be pulled from you again without scattering your ashes and stardust among the cosmos, never to return.

To be godkin is to never forget the moments of pure rage that none but powerless fourteen-year-olds can manage. To be godkin is to be an adult with their memory pressed into your skin. To be godkin is for that rage to never truly leave you.

We stand up again and stare at the emotions that are awake when we are not. We wonder what it will take to manifest again, to only twitch a thought in any direction and reshape the reality around us. It is an extension of our being, and the less aware we are of it, the less effort it takes us to remake the world. It is the nature of deification, to change the laws of reality at our whim and will.

To be godkin is simply a matter of knowing that, and forever reaching to do that once more. If only to feel whole and vast, as we always have been.

#luteia laments #otherkin #godkin #actuallydeific #actuallydivine #essays of the skyrose garden #perks of being luteia #I should post this on my website shouldn't I #I wrote most of this last night on my phone actually though

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santigarcia · 4 years

Text

fly away with you

an ezra x reader fic~

rating: m for smut; virgin reader; some violence

word count: 6,780

summary: Waking up with no memory after a head injury, you find yourself in the presence of your rescuer - a handsome stranger named Ezra.

a/n: I AM SO SORRY i’ve had this fic like...finished but i just never got around to posting it. i had it broken up in chapters, but i just decided to post them all here w/ breaks to signify where the chapter would have ended. (im also adding the first two parts - so if anything seems familiar this is why!)

Ringing. There’s a loud ringing in your ears. Your vision is blurry, and that ringing won’t stop. You can’t hear anything else, and you’re not sure what you’re seeing. The color brown and green seem to blur together. What happened? Did you hit your head?

Reaching up to touch your temple, you feel wet. Your hair having been matted down with something sticky. Pulling your hand away, you look at it. Not that it does any good because your vision is still blurred. But there’s enough red on your fingertips to know it is blood.

Suddenly you smell it, your blood. And dirt. And earth.

Something else is mixed in, maybe smoke? Something in the air is foul.

The air.

You panic. Where’s your helmet? How long have you been breathing in this air? It’s the air you smell that’s foul. What if it’s toxic? Frantically you try to get up, but you can barely get your legs under you. You’re still too dizzy.

When your vision finally clears, you see your helmet on the ground next to you. There’s a large crack leading to a hole. Shards are everywhere. Some have blood on them, and you assume this is where your head injury is from. But upon further inspection, you see blood on the rock nearest you.

What happened?

It’s still foggy, but you try and retrace your steps from the day.

You had been with your cousin, whose whereabouts now you have no idea. It wasn’t even your choice to come along. But he claimed that your hands were the steadiest, and you’d be best for the harvesting. You had no idea what he was even talking about. You only agreed because your home world is the last place you want to be right now. And hey, he said he’d pay you so why not?

The ship ride over was a nightmare. It was smooth sailing quite frankly, but you’ve never been a fan of space travel. You like it on the ground. Though at the present moment the ground is covered in your blood, what a day it’s been. And you can barely remember it.

You do remember harvesting a couple of those things, you can’t even think to remember what your cousin called them. It wasn’t easy but it wasn’t hard either. You did just fine.

You also remember some arguing? Something was happening? There were these other people?

It’s starting to come back to you, but this air is getting to you. How long have you been walking? Are you even going in the right direction? You feel dizzy again and things are starting to spiral.

Then everything goes black.

A voice this time brings you out of your stupor. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but you can make out it’s a male voice. It’s not your cousin, this voice has a thick accent.

You blink several times to clear your vision again, and you take in your surroundings and this stranger.

First you notice you’re inside laying on a cot of some sort. Everything in the room is an olive green. An ugly yellow light shines overhead. It’s very dim. The space is small, it seems to be a large tent. There’s medical supplies and strange photographs on the wall. Where is this?

The man is sitting near you in a metal folding chair. He’s got no choice but to sit close to you, there’s not any room in this area.

He’s in a suit not unlike your own. His face is kind. His voice is deep, but nonthreatening. Light scruff dusts his cheeks and jaw, and his eyes are pleasant. There’s a small blond streak in his brown hair. And a haggard scar on his cheek. His kind eyes and kind smile almost seem out of place next to that scar.

He’s still talking, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. He’s gesturing with his hand. Just one. It’s only then you realize he’s missing his right arm. You feel dizzy again. What if this man is dangerous? Or did he just lose that arm in some accident?

You reach up to touch your temple again, and you feel cloth. A bandage has been wrapped around your head. And you notice, other than a slight headache, you’re not in any pain.

“Where am I?” you wonder aloud. Your throat is so dry your voice croaks.

“At last, the lady is with us!” the man speaks and this time you understand him. His voice sounds nice. That accent is so strong. “Alas, I must admit, I myself do not know where this is. But I was out and about on my harvest when I saw you lyin’ unconscious on the ground. You were gaspin’ for air. So, I took it upon myself to bring you to shelter and here we are.” he gestures with his arm while he looks around the room. That ugly yellow light shines on his face, and suddenly the light is not so ugly on his tan skin.

“Thank you,” you tell him sitting up a little. You’re still feeling dizzy, but you feel safe. “What happened?” you think aloud again. And where is your cousin?

“I heard what sounded like gunfire off in the distance,” he explains, “that’s how I came to find you.”

“I was with my cousin; did you see anyone?”

“I am afraid I only saw some bodies, miss. You were the only one I saw alive.”

Your cousin, and whoever attacked you must have been near where you first woke up. But in your daze, you started walking and missed the bodies entirely.

You were warned this was dangerous work. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Grief and shock are setting in. Your cousin is gone, and your harvest.

“I’m stuck here,” you whisper.

“Nonsense,” the man smiles, it’s a warm smile. He seems so kind. You want to trust him. You may have no other choice. “I could not in good conscience leave you behind. You have suffered a mighty fine wound to your noggin, and your poor lungs have breathed in this nasty shit air we got around here.”

He is talking so fast that you can barely keep up.

“Now, I’m sure you’re a-wonderin’ if you can trust me. And right now, little birdie, I’m all you’ve got.”

In any other situation, if a stranger called you a pet name, you might recoil. But he says things so casually, you don’t feel any malice or perversion behind it.

“You can help me harvest, and I can get you outta here. There is my offer plain and simple. You can surely decline, but if your cousin is gone, my condolences. And you have no way to get home.”

Home. You don’t want to go home. You don’t want to stay here, but you don’t want to go home.

“What’s that?” he leans forward, his eyes squinting. He’s trying to hear; you didn’t realize you’ve just said that out loud. “Where are you from?”

“Zulara,” you mumble.

He winces, clenching his teeth, “I do not blame you one bit for not wantin’ to head on back to that planet. I am currently residin’ on Anvarvis V, and I’d be glad to take you along with me.”

You sit for a moment weighing your options. You’ve heard good things about Anvarvis V. or was it IV?

“We’ll split the harvest 50/50?” you ask.

He nods.

“Ok. It’s a deal,” you nod and stick out your hand.

“Alright,” he grins. “I’m Ezra, what can I call you?”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

And that’s how you began a partnership with Ezra. You worked well together. Tuns out you were really good at the harvesting part, and Ezra’s wit and charm made him a good salesman. He brokered deals and sold the product you’d harvested for a lot of money.

You’ve been so busy; you’ve not even gone to his home planet yet. But somehow you liked this life with him. There’s space enough of his ship for you, and you quite enjoy his company.

Truth be told you enjoy his company more and more each passing day. Your cheeks warm now when he calls you “little bird.” Your heart leaps into your throat if he ever touches you.

That first week with him he touched you a lot. Yes, okay he was checking the bandage on your head, but his fingers would graze skin and he was standing so close to you.

That’s when it first started you think. Being so close, seeing his soft lips surrounded by a dark stubble. His gentle brown eyes looking over your wound.

Maybe you were just lonely. Or maybe it was sharing such a small space with your rescuer. But you had a crush that only seemed to grow.

It started to suffocate you being so close to him and not being his.

The two of you fell into a natural routine and you grew accustomed to seeing him shirtless. That first time seeing him without a shirt almost sent you over. You ached to touch his olive skin. He looked so warm. You had to force yourself not to stare.

He thought you were looking at his right shoulder, where his arm used to be. And he began to ramble on about how it happened. You were embarrassed because that’s not what you were looking at, but you listened to his story all the same. He was opening up to you.

Ezra has the gift of gab, and he talks nonstop. But if you ever have anything to say, he listens with a deep interest. You’ve never felt so heard before. He never talks over you. His constant talking if often stories or little tidbits of trivia, but after that night of him opening up about his arm, things changed.

He was almost always in a good mood, but when he couldn’t complete a task due to his arm, he’d be a little grumpy and frustrated. But after telling you what happened, he let you help him without protest.

Maybe he got the feeling he could trust you back.

“Thank you, little bird,” he always said. And the last time he said it, you know he saw your cheeks turn red.

You figure at some point he’ll ask, or you’ll admit your feelings. You’re not sure which, but both options scare you. You’ve never done this before.

Back at home, you spent most of your life in school or working. There was no time for relationships, as much as you wanted one. You read stories of lovers, you kept them hidden under your mattress. The want was there, but no experience to fulfill that big question in your mind of what it’s like.

What it feels like to be loved by someone, to be held. You always were a little shy about the sexual parts of the book, yet those were the parts you couldn’t tear your eyes away from.

“What are you thinking about over there?” Ezra’s voice cuts in. A deep blush stains your cheeks. You’d been remembering of a story you’d read where a man pleasures a woman with his mouth. You look at Ezra’s mouth and feel your stomach drop and pray he can’t read your mind.

“Nothing,” you chirp at being caught.

“From that look on your face, I’m gonna wager a gamble and say it’s definitely something clanking around in that head.”

Scrambling, you try to think of anything to change the subject. He’s watching you squirm, and he’s delighted in it. Maybe it won’t be too hard after all to tell him if he can already see it.

“When’s the next sell?” you ask, nibbling the skin off your bottom lip.

“Pretty soon,” he replies. “I will head out soon. Won’t be gone long. Will you be alright to wait here until I make a triumphant return?” he grins.

You nod, returning his smile. You feel a heat pooling in between your legs. You shift a little in your seat trying to relieve the pressure. As soon as he’s gone, you’ll do something about it.

Two nights ago, you touched yourself thinking of him. That was the first time. You’d seen his bare ass when he was exiting the shower area. He had to have known you might see, and you couldn’t decide which thought thrilled you more. But the image of him naked was seared into your mind. And that night while he slept soundly, you touched yourself - wishing it were him.

You’d come up with a dirty fantasy, one you will play out again as soon as he leaves. And he can’t leave soon enough.

Normally, you’d go with him. But this buyer is a familiar one and can be trusted. You’re not worried about Ezra taking care of himself in a fight. He’s been in plenty of a scrap or two.

But if you’re honest, your brain is so clouded with the thought of getting a release you’re not worried about him in the slightest.

The thought passes in your mind you don’t know how long he’ll be gone, so you elect to leave your pants on. You lay down on your bed in your little corner of the ship.

The main hanger is around room, your beds are on opposite walls but still in the same room. So, you can see his bed from yours, and you consider going over to his bed, but you’ve already got your hand down your pants thinking about him on your bed.

You begin to tease yourself and you’re already wet from your own imagination. You think of him naked. What he looks like from the front. What he must look like when he’s hard for you. You think of his lips, and how his hand feels. What they must feel like on sensitive skin. You think of his stubble scraping your thighs. How good his long thick fingers would feel like inside of you. How he’d be gentle taking you for the first time.

Your thighs shake and you clench around your fingers wishing it were him.

The release hits you hard, and you gasp. It echoes through the ship. Your breathing is heavy but beginning to calm, when suddenly you hear:

“Well hello there little birdie!”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Horror floods through your veins and your heart is pounding in your head. You’re still coming down from your high, while fear spikes within you. Your eyes are wide, and you’re frozen staring at him. Your mouth is hanging open, and his mouth is curved in a playful smirk.

When tears begin to fall from your eyes, his expression softens completely.

“Little bird, I-,” he sticks his hand out trying to demonstrate he didn’t mean to embarrass you, but it’s too late. Tears pouring down your cheeks you run into the bathroom chamber and push the button to close the door harshly. It hisses loudly, and the moment it closes you sink to the floor. Cheeks red with embarrassment.

In those books you’ve read, maybe the character wouldn’t have cared. And would have let the man know what she was doing. But this just isn’t how you wanted this to happen. As much as you do want Ezra to know you want him. The shock of the moment startled you.

Ezra outside in the main hangar is uncharacteristically quiet. You can hear him rummaging around. From the sound of it, he’s taking off the bulky outer suit. It takes him a moment since he only has the help of one arm.

He’ll be sitting down on his bunk and unfasten the clips and zippers. He grits his teeth sometimes, other times he bites his lower lip. You tease him about the different faces he makes when he’s concentrating on something.

Deciding to clear your mind further, you turn on the shower. For a moment you hope he doesn’t need to take one after being outside, but you imagine he’s letting you have your space for a moment.

While you shower, you try to decide what you’re even going to say.

“Hi Ezra, I was touching myself thinking about you.”

Well. That might not be a bad way to start. But that feeling of nerves hits your gut. What if he doesn’t want you back? What if he does want you?

You mull this over in your mind and wash yourself clean. Normally the thought of being naked in here while he’s out there has sent you a thrill. Now you’re even more aware of him.

You decide you do want him. But you don’t know where to start. Him seeing you is one way to break the ice.

Gathering your courage, you wrap a towel around yourself and exit the bathroom into the main hanger. Your eyes fix upon him, and every nerve is on fire.

As expected, he’d changed out of his suit. He’s sitting on his cot in comfortable pants, a worn black Henley, and some socks. His hair is sweaty, but it’s sticking up in multiple directions from obviously running a hand through it. His right arm sleeve is tied in a knot near his shoulder to stay out of his way. He’s got something propped up on his left knee, and he’s practicing his hand strength with his left hand. He pauses when he sees you, he doesn’t speak.

He’s waiting for you to say something first. He can read the terror in your eyes as you step closer. Giving you full attention, he frees his hand, and watches you approach him slowly.

When you’re right in front of his spread legs, he reaches out a hand to grab yours.

“You doin’ alright there little bird? You are tremblin’ like a leaf on a tree with strong winds blowin’ every which way.”

You open your mouth trying to think of what to say. You’d forgotten your entire plan you’d cooked up in the shower. Now that you’re here in front of him and he’s looking at you with those soft eyes, your mind is blank.

You almost wonder if you should just drop the towel and climb on him, but you can’t help but want some romancing.

“Say what’s on your mind little bird, I see the wheels turning in your head.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” is all you can think to say. But are you sorry? You don’t know what’s going on.

“I’m not,” he grins, but the grin softens, and his eyes are gentle. He stands and presses his palm to your cheek. Shaking a little from the touch, you lean into his hand. “But I am sorry that my presence startled you so, and that I saw such an intimate act without your permission. I admit I was only present for the uh, grand finale as it were, but on my honor, I will not speak of this again if you would prefer it.”

Your cheeks darkened as he spoke, and you can see the look in his eyes. It’s a gentle attraction.

“I-” you start but only blush deeper under his gentle gaze. His eyes are big, he’s listening intently.

“I understand your profound embarrassment, but there is nothing to be ashamed of seeking a fine release such as that. If I may say little bird, I’m only sorry I was not the one to give it to you.”

Your eyes widen at the last sentence. You swallow hard.

This is it.

“You want me?”

“I do little bird. I have for a quite a spell now. You are, simply put, the sweetest thing I have ever had the pleasure to know, and you have brought a light into my dark life I did not know I was needin’.”

His hand is still on your face, his thumb brushes you bottom lip.

“I want you too,” you give him a shy smile which he returns, “only I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You surely seemed to know a few moments ago,” he winks.

“Ezra,” you groan and bury your face in his shoulder.

“My sincerest apologies,” he teases, “I already broke my promise.”

He’s trying to make you laugh, which it does. And the two of you share a moment of laughter before you pull back to look up at him again.

“I’m serious though, Ezra. I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never-”

“Never what?” he repeats, thumb rubbing your flushed cheeks.

“I’ve never even been kissed,” you tell him.

“Well, little bird. It would seem the honor has been bestowed to me to teach you the lovely ways of liplockin’.”

“What do I do?” you whisper, which he seems to find amusing.

“You know something, I have never once been in situation quite like this in my lifetime.”

That coaxes a smile from you, and you’re already feeling relaxed.

“I can’t say that I have either,” you laugh.

“First step, is to close those pretty little eyes of yours.”

You close your eyes, and smile, you trust him. You think back to when you met him all those weeks ago when he saved your life. You certainly didn’t imagine this happening then.

“Now, tilt your head just a little,” he pushes a little with his hand guiding you. “And open that mouth of yours, just a smidge.” He pushes down your bottom lip with his thumb.

His voice stops, and you feel his breath on your face. He smells like mint and sweat. You decide it’s a good smell.

You feel the tip of his nose first press against the top of your cheek. Then his lips gently press against yours. His tongue just barely touches your lips. His stubbly chin and upper lip scrape on your skin in a way you didn’t know you’d love this much. His hand holds your face gently, and what he doesn’t say, or can’t say during this kiss, is he wishes he could wrap his other arm around you.

Your knees buckle, and you let go of the towel that’d you’d been holding on to so tight and mold your body to his. A strong thigh is in between your legs, your hands cup his face and you pull away gasping. Your heart is fluttering.

He’s slow to open his eyes, the smile splits his face before his eyelids even flutter open.

“Now that,” he licks his lips, “was simply divine.” He leans in and places a couple quick pecks to your lips getting a laugh from you.

You take a step back, and the towel is going to fall. And you were going to let it. But much to your surprise, his hand stops it by pressing his hand against your chest, keeping the cloth from exposing you to him.

“Hold on now,” he breathes. “That little heart that’s fluttering under my hand has surely had enough excitement for one day. And as much as I would love to see that body of yours, I am not wanting to take you to bed in this dirty old ship. I would rather take you home. Since I am unfortunately missing a tool of the trade, I am not experienced in taking lovers into my bed with ol’ lefty here. It’ll be a learning experience for us both little bird. You alright with that?”

You nod, putting your hand over his on your chest.

“Then let’s get you home.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Your head is pounding, and you can see him. Your cousin. It’s like you’re on the outside looking in. You see the clearing of trees and two men with your cousin. It’s a standoff, everyone is frozen. There you hear a sharp crack somewhere in the woods, causing the men to take fire. One man shoots your cousin, the other steals the harvest from your cousin’s dead hands. Then that man is shot, he killed his own partner and took the harvest from his hands. He turned around to face you, and you saw his face.

It was Ezra.

With a sharp gasp, you jolt awake. Sweat is on your brow, your heart is racing, and you feel sick to your stomach. Panic sets in because you can’t remember where you are.

Looking around you realize that you’re home, with Ezra.

After your kiss with him, he got the ship ready and punched in the coordinates to head home. His home, but now it would be yours. You expressed to him your apprehension of space travel, and he took down the med pack to give you a medicine to calm your nerves.

“Fear of flying is not uncommon,” he’d told you warmly with a kiss on your cheek.

After the flight and landing, he gave you another medicine to help your lungs adjust to the air of this planet.

You were so nervous, but full of excitement! You have a new home with this wonderful soul.

The planet is gorgeous. The ship landed out the outskirts of the city. It’s nighttime so you can see it’s all lit up, and it’s blue. Every light is a twinkling blue.

“It’s beautiful!” you’d gasped. Ezra was proud to show you his home.

He was not originally from this planet; this is where he lives now when he isn’t prospecting.

He owns a small house is near the outskirts. He could afford a city apartment if he wanted, but he preferred living out away from the hustle and bustle of city life. He likes his view of the trees from his living room, which are also blue.

His house is humble. One bedroom, one bathroom, a quaint kitchen, a small table, and a sitting area. The shelves and walls are covered in artifacts and trinkets from other world’s he’s visited. You love it. It feels like a lived-in home.

“We will have to share this bed unless you want me to take the couch?” Ezra tells you when you collapse onto his bed. It’s been too long a day with all the space travel.

“I don’t mind,” you tell him, and he grins easily.

“No gettin’ to business tonight little bird. I gotta rest, you do too.”

You nod, you’re too tired for that. Though if he wanted to, you wouldn’t have said no.

You fell asleep that night with his body close to yours.

He’s still close by when you wake up from your dream.

“Little bird?” he asks waking up, rubbing his eyes with his hand. “You alright?”

You scramble out of the bed to get away from him. Your heart is beating so fast.

“It was YOU,” you gasp, tears are beginning to fall.

“Me? Birdie, I do not have a damn idea what on this planet you are referring to.”

“You shot and killed my cousin! I saw it in my dream!!”

He sits up and tries to calm you down.

“Little birdie-”

“Stop calling me that!” you cry. You hug your arms around your waist.

“Look at me. Look at my face.” He waits til you look at him, there’s no joke or smile on his face. His eyes are wide, and you can tell he’s upset you’re upset. “I did not kill him. I didn’t even have my gun with me when I found the bodies.”

You think back to when you first met him, and what you can remember from then, he didn’t have a gun on him.

“But it looked so real,” you sniffle.

“I had hoped this would not happen to you, but one of the side effects of the medicine I had given you is nightmares. You’re on a new planet, in a new place. It would not be a surprise to me if you had weird dreams. Now as to your cousin, I do not think you will ever uncover the mystery of his death. I can recall to you what I saw again if it will ease your mind.”

You sniffle again and nod.

He tells you what he remembers, and you do trust him. But that dream still felt so real.

You had been finishing up a harvest when your cousin went to look for another. Your memory is hazy after that.

Ezra fills in the gaps based on what he saw. He’d seen two bodies; one was your cousin and then another man. Your harvest was gone, and there were footsteps leading in another direction. Ezra, not wanting to get into it with this guy, went the opposite way. Which is when he found your shattered helmet and blood. He followed your footprints which led him to you.

“So, I killed my cousin,” you bury your face in your hands, sitting down on the bed.

“You are making less and less sense,” his eyebrows crease.

“You said there was a large branch and I must have tripped, so me tripping sounded the alarm causing the gunfire to go off,” you being to cry into your hands.

Ezra scoots closer to you to wrap and arm around you. He holds you close to him and kisses your hair while he shushes you.

“That was a whole tricky situation and no one’s fault. I have been in a sticky situation like that before and it would seem that people who are trigger happy need no cue to fire away. You are not at fault. Besides, if all this had not occurred, I might not have met the love of my life.”

You look up from your hands, tears still in your eyes.

“What?”

“You heard what I said,” he kisses the shell of your ear.

Crying now tears of joy, you throw your arms around his neck and kiss all over his face. He topples backwards, laughing the whole way down.

“I love you too,” you say between kisses. “I’m sorry I accused you of murder,” you laugh.

He laughs, rolling over so he’s on top of you. He kisses your face and dries your tears. You start to writhe under him when you feel him beginning to harden on your thigh.

“What do you say to some breakfast and then we come back to this bed huh?”

Feeling a little bold, you reach down to cup him through his sleep pants. He gasps out in surprise and buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“Why leave?” you ask, unsure of what to do, but you like touching him. You continue to, until your stomach rumbles loudly. He raises an eyebrow teasing you, even though you still have your hand around his cock. “Fine,” you laugh, “breakfast first.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

While Ezra makes breakfast, you look around your new home. Since the house is small and his voice carries, you ask him questions about different objects, and he rambles on from the kitchen.

There are photographs of him when he was younger, those are your favorites. You’re looking at one particular photograph, when he had both arms and no blond streak. He looked like a completely different person.

Your thoughts are torn away when you hear him call your name.

“Could you reach that spice for me off the shelf?” His one hand is too busy to stop and reach. “Just set it down on the counter there,” he nods. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smile and wrap your arms around him from behind. Kissing his cheek, he hums. “I’m sorry I’m acting so strange, I think I’m a little nervous,” you admit kissing his shoulder blade.

“Well birdie, it is no small feat to be joined in a union with another person in such an intimate fashion, especially when one is not experienced. It is a lovely thing but can be an overwhelmin’ experience. I am glad to assist and ease the knot in your belly of nerves.”

“I love the way you talk,” you smile kissing his shoulder again.

“And I quite love the way you are holdin’ me right now.”

“I’m sorry again about this morning. I’m sure that’s not the morning you had in mind.”

“No to worry. Grief and change do a wonder on your mind. I know that from losing my arm.”

“Tell me how you got that blond streak in your hair,” you murmur and lean your cheek against his shoulder.

“Now that is an interesting story!” One of which he tells for the rest of the morning. And when he’s done, you’re still not sure what exactly happened. But you laughed and all but forgot about the nerves in the pit of your stomach.

So much so that when he stands and reaches out his hand for you, you’re not sure what he’s doing.

“You ready?” he asks, motioning his head toward the bedroom. Your heart skips, but you nod, yes.

He leads you back into his room, and has you sit down on the bed. He moves around the room setting the mood. First, he pushes a button on the wall that lowers the curtains, dimming the room. He closes the door behind him and sits next to you on the bed.

“How does this work?” you ask a little timid, but very eager.

“Lay back,” he tells you. He lays down on top of you and begins to kiss your face and your lips. Anywhere his lips can kiss, he kisses. Your cheeks, your ears, your eyelids even. The tip of your nose.

Then he moves to your neck and chin and jaw. He adds some bites to your neck, and sucks on your clavicle.

“Can I?” he asks tugging on the hem of your shirt. You nod, and with his help, you pull it off exposing chest to him now. You swallow, feeling a little shy watching him eye your breasts.

You’ve never seen him so speechless. Instead of talking, he puts his mouth to use and suckles your perked nipple into his mouth. His hand cups your other breast and thumbs over your nipple. When you gasp, he sucks harder and pinches his fingers harder. Your hands fly to his hair and you pull. He growls a little and you feel slick between your legs.

“Ezra?” you whine. Your breast is shiny with his saliva, and there’s a sting left behind from his teeth and grit from his facial hair.

“What do you need birdie?” He murmurs into you flesh. His hand smoothing down your skin and gliding over your tummy and to the waistband of your pants.

“Ezra wait,” you gasp.

“Are my ministrations too fast for your likin’?” he questions, lips dragging along your stomach. He’s trying to make you laugh again, or at least relax you further.

“I-” you pause.

“It’s ok,” he smiles and kisses your tummy. “Help me?” he says tugging on your pants a little. You help him push your pants and underwear down, and you watch in equal parts arousal and embarrassment as he sees you.

He touches a pointer finger to your entrance, touching the slick gathered there. He dips inside and you arch your back feeling the drag of his finger inside. His thumb brushes your clit and you jolt.

“Now remember, I am not as well practiced with my left, so you’ll have to excuse any inexperience on my part, though I do know how to please a lady.”

“Ezra!” is all you can think to say when he slides a second finger in.

“But as it seems, you’re enjoying this regardless. That’s good,” he smiles and presses a loud kiss to your thigh. He doesn’t stop the toying with your clit. Even after you hit that first high and come around his fingers. He keeps going. Teasing you just a little more. “You are doin’ so well my girl,” he purrs.

He looks up at you when he pulls his hand away, his grin is pure lovesick. Your eyes are hazy from the high you’ve just been given, and there’s still more to come.

“I want just one more from you before we get down to it alright?” He tells you. He’s working his way up the bed, and you’re not sure what he’s doing. He pulls the pillows together, and he flops down on his back, his head on the pillows. “Alright little bird, c’mere,” he says and taps his chin.

Taking his meaning with heat covering your body, you climb up and carefully lower yourself onto his face. His tongue and mouth ready to accept your heat. You groan in unison as he makes the first lick. You’re still so sensitive from before, but wow it feels good.

Oh.

This is really good.

His mouth, of course, of course his mouth is as skilled in pleasure as it is in talking. His tongue moves expertly on your flesh as if he’s done this to you a million times. You’re coming on his tongue in mere minutes.

His arm is tight around you, and you buck against him as you come down.

His eyes open, and he looks up at you, he’s quite pleased with himself.

“Now if this isn’t the best view a man could have then I don’t know what is,” he smiles, his eyes lingering on your breasts for a beat, then back up to your face.

Carefully, on wobbly legs, you lay down on the bed, and Ezra works to take off his pants. You lean up to look at him, he’s on his knees now, naked. He’s stroking himself lazily, getting ready for you.

“Can I?” you sit up reaching for him.

“Be my guest,” he reassures, and you wrap your fingers around him. He winces and groans a little. “It has been far too long since I’ve been held but someone other than my own hand.”

He feels nice, and you have the desire to keep moving your hand until he finds his high. But he pushes your hand away.

“I do appreciate the eagerness, but if you keep that up, we won’t get to all the fun. Lay down for me alright?”

You do as he asks, and he pauses for a moment. He’s thinking.

When he gets the idea, you see it come across his face with a little “oh!” and a grin. He lays down on top of you, you’re chest to chest.

“Little birdie, I need you to wrap your legs around me? Got it?” You nod and do as he asks. From this position you can feel the tip of him at your entrance. Putting his weight on you for a moment, he reaches down between your bodies and lines himself up with you. “There might be a little bit of a pinch, but we’ll work ya through it alright?”

You nod again, and he pushes inside. He moves his hand back up to smooth your hair out of your face. He moves slowly, watching your face, kissing you more to get you relaxed. Once he’s fully inside, he waits.

He gives you a moment to breathe, then when you give the ok, he moves. His arm is up by your head now, keeping him from putting his whole weight on you and giving him some leverage. His thrusts are steady, and your body moves with him, gasping each time he hits that spot in you.

“It pains me that I cannot reach down to tease that lovely pussy of yours, but birdie, you gotta touch yourself for me. Can you do that?”

You slip your hand between your bodies and touch yourself in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Good girl,” he coaxes. “Don’t stop,” he tells you nibbling your ear. And you don’t. You keep going until you feel the high approaching. When it hits you, he’s not far behind. His cock twitches and pulses, and he comes deep inside you.

Exhaustion hits him and he puts more of his weight on you. Now with a free hand, he pushes your hand away and touches your clit again just to touch you a little one more time. That touch has you jolt, and he laughs darkly in your neck.

“Ezra?”

“Mmm?” he looks up at you, and you start to smooth his hair back.

“Can we do this again? Tonight?” you bite your lip.

“Hmm,” he pretends to think. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Ezra!” you laugh and playfully hit his chest.

“Okie,” he shrugs and begins to blow raspberries on your chest.

You stay with him then, tangled in the sheets all morning. And all afternoon, and into the evening. You can barely keep your hands off one another. And there’s not much desire to go prospecting any time soon, not when you’ve discovered something much richer in each other.

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#ezra x reader #ezra (prospect)#ezra #prospect #my writing #mine #SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER OMG

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windsweptlassie · 3 years

Text

On Love

So as you know I made this uquiz with an open-ended question at the end, tell me something about love, and I’ve gotten the most wonderful responses! They range from descriptions of wonderful partners:

Lauren: oh, how long I went without being myself until I met him and he showed me who I truly was and that my worth was higher than I ever thought was possible

Levi: I love who we are with each other. I love who I am with you. In your company I am me. In your company I am the best of me. The best with the best, I've told you. I wouldn't give you up for anything

Daniel: i fell in love for the first time when i was 17... at the time, i didn’t realize it was the first time, i thought i’d been in love before, a couple times actually, but falling in love at 17 was such a fulfilling experience, it felt so forceful yet so right. it’s when i first truly understood what love was. never before had i felt so understood and so cared for as i did when i was in love with her, and she was in love with me. it’s been nearly 4 years since then, and nearly 3 years since we broke up and stopped talking, and still, i think about her almost every day. i’ve never known anyone like her; to me, she was love itself.

El: oh i’m in love with everyone that i know op!!! especially my girlfriend, of course ,but also my friends and my family and random people on the street and uh

Grace: i’ve met my soulmate and we plan on getting an apartment and marrying after college

A: I’m going to ask the woman I love to marry me and I just wanted to tell someone because I am so excited

Jeremy: you ever have that feeling where basically after years of denying that someone couldnt understand you in a way or love you and then the next thing you know you happen to find that person and its just great from then on out? idk how to explain it anyways I love my boyfriend so much he means the world to me

Lucy: i am so happy i have found the one i love

to descriptions of best friends and favorite people:

Nightbyrd: Love is a hug from an alzheimer's patient who hasn't the foggiest idea who you are, but they know you're worth hugging.

H: I have been doing so much yoga with my roommate recently!! It's a great way to center my mind for an hour

Riv: [platonic] i’ve literally never met anyone who understands me in the way that my best friends do. they’re literally the best people in the whole world and i genuinely don’t know what i’d do without them. i love them with my whole heart

Cillian: when i talk about how much i love my best friend i get so teary eyed because i cant believe that such a genuinely wonderful person wants to speak to me every day - i care for her more than anyone else on this planet

O: my two besties are my sources of happiness and they’re so pretty i would die for them :D

to beautiful quotes:

Kai: "you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on." DARCYYYY PLS MY HEART CANT HANDLW THIS PAIN

Dorian: When the plane went down in San Francisco, I thought of my friend M. He’s obsessed with plane crashes. He memorizes the wrecked metal details, ____the clear cool skies cut by black scars of smoke. Once, while driving, he told me about all the crashes: The one in blue Kentucky, in yellow Iowa. How people go on, and how people don’t. It was almost a year before I learned that his brother was a pilot. I can’t help it, I love the way men love. (accident report in the tall, tall weeds- ada limon, bright dead things)

Adam: every day I think about lemony snicket I will love you if I never see you again I will love you if I see you every Tuesday or however it goes. and it KILLS ME. love only fits in small things

Hero: “Your heart beats in my ribs and mine in yours, and both in God’s… The divine magnet is in you, and my magnet responds.” - Herman Melville to Nathaniel Hawthorne

Mary: "Love is watching someone die."

Alex: "meet me at blue diner, i'll take coffee and talk about nothing baby"

Sparrow: "How dare you love me like you've never known fear?" and "For you, the world," and "Darling, I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades," and "Will you start where I end?"

V: " You want to die for love. You always have. " and "someone will remember us, I say, even in another time" are living rent free in my mind 24/7 and I'm shaking. When will I finally be not the only one falling ?

Sahar K: To love another person is to see the face of god!!!

Miriam: all the love in the world is useless when there is total lack of understanding- kafka

Juls: Don’t you think they are maybe the same? Love and attention

to practices of love:

Leo; i love feeling happy bc somebody that i love is happy and comfortable....like its not about me i just love seeing you smile. we are safe together...idk i just feel it bro

A: I like to think love is leaning on each other during the light or dark days. Its a personal mission of mine to find out who I am and what I want. Yet I never seem to find my place in this world and as I look and look , I realise the only place I can be myself even with or without the efforts to find myself was done on that day or not, I am always tired so shall I lean on you? And you can lean on me as well. I shall be your fig tree and you shall be my favourite willow tree.

L: It's too late at night to be soul searching, but it's a journey we all seem to find ourselves on these days.

Anthi: feeling safe and at home, I guess (also I love frogs)

Julia: ive found that loving someone is like becoming your own thesaurus. you have to find or come up with infinite ways to say, you’re beautiful, or, i love you. it’s a gift

Galexies: ive been writing letters to the person i'd love one day since i was 14. i write them in a little journal usually, but i've been digitizing them into emails and sending them to one account that i'll give to them someday. i'd like to put pictures, but i haven't been outside much recently so theres that. i wonder if they'd like the sunsets i have on file, or if they'd find my cat cute in a bowtie.

Caeles: Love is sharing fruit slices and making someone tea at random

Dundy: Love is sending your friends cursed shit and watching them react in horror

to crushes and potential loves:

Jess: I have a crush on my roommate. It sucks, but it's also wonderful. I get to be around him all the time when we're at school. we share a life together; it's rather domestic. I think a lot about marrying him and being domestic with him forever. It won't happen, and I'll move on eventually, but I'll be happy with him for as long as I can. I hope you feel loved tonight, because you are. Sleep well.

Aki: I so desperately want to believe that love is fake because I’ve seen what happens when loved ones leave but whenever I start to convince myself that I’ll never love anyone my best friend messages me telling me she loves me. She’s the only person I’ve ever pictured having a future with but love scares me and I don’t really know what to do but I think as long as she’s with me in some way, I’ll be fine

Hi: her her i keep thinking abt her.... gonna see her in 8 days or so i really miss her. its ok if shes never gonna love me like i want her to really being her friend spending time with her makes me the happiest girl on earth.... outsold antidepressants

Kit: this guy i have a crush on has hypnotically dark brown eyes and he's wonderful and shows me kindness like no one else

Juno: my crush has all the stars in his eyes

Mads: When I have the courage to meet my eyes with hers, the world stands still

Be Nice To Me: Look bro I never do these but I am yearning to hold them SO badly right now and someone needs to know it besides me

to the trials of love:

Pppppp: I just wanna love like from the movies and what I read about.. but everyone tells me that that’s fictional and rare to find in the real world and it sucks bc it seems like all the guys I’ve met are terrible and the norms of society are all about not respecting women and uthdjdjdk

Manny: I have been in love before and I will be again but I’m not now and I miss it

Ok: I don't think I've ever been in love, though I love many people. I am waiting for the day I look at someone and can say, YES. IT'S YOU.

Chloe: idk rn i'm like okay with my love and i'm happy so we'll see i'm just a little cautious rn bc my last partner told me i didn't know how to love

L: love is so fucking complicated I don't even know where to start

Corrin: He’s not real and it worried me that I will never allow myself to live or be loved because I will always be waiting for him

Sean: Good luck it dont exist

Serena: i want 2 b in love :(( </3

13: I don’t know anymore

M: I just really don’t like dealing with it lol

to beloved characters:

Janaya: I’m madly in love with my comfort and kin character and I hope maybe in the afterlife I can relive a life with him in some sort of dimension

Jhgjdf: when i was a kid i had a crush on ash ketchum from pokemon and id always daydream about being a female pkmn trainer and meeting him and we fall in love

to advice and prose:

Mikolai: Love is earth, gentle and soft at first flight but upon being broken, drowns you in the dry choking wastes of its consequences...

Thex: Your hands will not go cold without someone to hold them. I am here. I will be here.

Kat: it is the nearest proof to god that i find myself surrounded by people who love in a way that complements so wonderfully the way i love

H: believe in love out of spite believe in love to prove everyone wrong believe in love because you were told not to and we will not do what we’re told anymore believe in love because it’s the strongest act of teenage rebellion we have left believe in love because it’s easier not to and when is easy worth doing? believe in love because everything says otherwise but you are untouchable, you are your own, you are not made by their design believe in love because, perhaps, you are love

Ali: I used to want a kind of love that feels like coming home and now I want nothing more than to be away from home on many different adventures

Em: you dont need to love yourself to accept it from others

to the small, the simple, and the sweet:

Ireal: Poems

O: Flowers

Fay: ah im sorry that i’m feeling unmotivated but you are very kind.

Ad: we love LOVE

A: <3

Isak: small things

H: intense

Hey: Listening to a clock ticking away

S: her

E: <3

Hania: Amorous, I adore that word ^^

Catboy: wholesome

J: i love love so much it hurts

Emmy: hi i love the song darkest of discos!! try and give it a listen!! <3

Nora: Love is painful, but most of the time love is great

Ariel: i like the comfort it can bring

M: i love love

to food!

Cool Whip: Matzoh ball soup!!

Woop: I love sausages.... I hope that's ok with you?

and animals too <3

Nee: hmm i have pet geckos and i love them very much!

96: raccoons ????

DJ Big Penis: cats

:3: I Love frogs,,, love is stored in the frog,,,

I hope that this serves as a sweet compilation of what love means! Love to all of you, it warms my heart so much to hear about your people and your geckos and your characters and soup and all the songs and quotes you love. <3 Strength to all of you who are figuring out to do about your feelings for your crush, and congratulations to you who are proposing or moving in with your person! Your words are a source of light to me, truly.

#on love #love files #uquiz #mine #shut up queenie #long post

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

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hello, my lovely !! i was hoping to get a matchup with one of the creepypastas. I’m hoping this is all okay for you. Thank you, you are the light of my life.

soo,,,i’m around 5’2 from when i last checked. My figure is hourglass and curvy, I often do that thing where you just kind of hold your tiddies for no reason. I’m one of those people who tans really well and never burns but goes quite pale when I’ve stayed hibernating in my room for only a couple days. This results in me always having pretty dark circles like a beaten up raccoon due to both my lack of sleep and when i oversleep. This always leads to me being ‘relaxed’ which is actually me being lazy and tired. I have naturally waved hair, that straightens and feels all soft/fluffy when i hair dry it, just touching my shoulders since i cut it recently. It’s currently my normal hair colour which is sort of chestnut brown and sometimes dyed different colours, ooh i have green hazel eyes too (my eyes happen to be my favourite features). Uhh, I hate showing my teeth when smiling so you’ll usually get a soft closed mouth smile or my grins where i struggle to keep my mouth shut.

My style, a lot like yours truly, can change. The most frequent styles i go for are dark academia and gothic, these just show my interests off a bit. Like, I’m all for libraries, my earrings in my lobe and around my helix because i have a small obsession for jewellery like rings, also genuinely living for my playlists that i have for every situation out there. Oh, you need music because your now ex boyfriend just ate your dog ? You don’t already have one?? Well, you’re in luck, i do.

My zodiac (some say sun) sign is a Capricorn, my moon is Sagittarius and my rising is also Capricorn. How far i agree with them? I’m not too sure about half of it tbh.

In short, my personality tends to vary quite a bit, depending on my surroundings or who I’m with. It takes quite a long time for me to even become comfortable with people, but that doesn’t stop me from being considerate to most people or being an absolute mum friend when necessary (not overbearing though, because ik people dont always react well with that). Ig that makes me pretty careful/gentle with both people and objects.

I’m afraid I can’t go too into detail, my lovely, but i can say that my humour is extremely dry and filled with innuendos- some unintentional.

relationship wise~

okay, so, um, I’m an omnisexual with she/they pronouns (afab).

I’m a switch. So, yk when i’m in a dom mood because i will have my suit or shirt on. I quite enjoy seeing my partner whining for me, all needy and praise is just- yes. yes please. this is prolly because i’ve always been raised to be well-mannered. Same goes for when I’m being topped, i like having a soft dom and occasionally rough when im feeling particularly spicy.

I’m fairly open to experimenting as long as i know what we’re doing. I do draw a line at being degraded or humiliated since I hate feeling embarrassed and helpless. This is why im not too keen on hate/angry sex. The only harming i’ll allow is biting and a bit of scratching. It’s an intimate moment, let’s keep it that way please.

Outside of that, I’ve always been awkward. Whenever someone holds their hand out for a hug or hand hold, i high-five them :| call me touch-starved i dare you. I’ll manage eventually though.

I’ve got a list of things i’d die for (giving and receiving) <3

leaning into s/o for cuddles or headpats, playing with hands/hair, being dragged by the hand to do smthn, reading to s/o, playing games, ive always been one for giving nicknames and the usual shenanigans we could get up to. like, baby, we could go out into the woods for an adventure dressed as trees to steal juice and collect cool rocks or stay in do karaoke and make fun of bad films. I’d just love having that one person to be my everything and them feeling comfortable to talk about stupid random stuff with me or open up, i pride myself in being open and good with listening. i will take care of them as usual and perhaps roll them into a burrito if necessary.

Your matchup is… Toby!

Read more because of NSFW :}

In general:

So, I read over this and had a few people come to mind for this. It honestly took me a hot minute or so to finally come to a conclusion on who I wanted to pair you with and a few things bounced around in my head before I finally came to the conclusion yes: this is Toby territory.

What he likes about you:

So, physically, just to begin with, Toby really likes your figure! I get the vibe that Toby actually really likes full figured people, who like, this matches up pretty well imo. He thinks your hair is absolutely beautiful and will spend his time running his fingers through it and talking about how beautiful he thinks it is. He also really, really loves the color! And come on this man finds your smile absolutely adorable, regardless if you show teeth or not. All of your smiles are good ones, especially if they’re genuine. Furthermore, he’s gonna hype up your teeth. Whether you accept that or not, take it up with him lmfao Toby is really good for making people feel like gold. He really likes your changing senses of style too because he’ll just,,,, fall into them entirely. Thinks you can pull off everything so well. He LOVES your piercings too!! Also finds it really cute that you have playlists for everything lmfao. I also think he likes your sun sign (I have a small bias towards Capricorns lmfao, I’m sorry, it’s the Virgo in me). Toby really isn’t concerned with zodiac/natal chart stuff so like, but I do think he’d get along with you very well. He thinks you being 5’2 is cute too-. He thinks you being a mom friend is also super sweet too. Also likes that you’re gentle with both people and objects. Furthermore, your sense of humor just,,,,, like it just lines up with him y’know,,,, While I don’t think Toby’s humor is childish, it’s definitely try and full of innuendos as well.

General cute stuff:

I think Toby would be super sweet with you regardless, and wants to hold you but that’s just because he himself is super touch starved. He would… He would high five you lmfao. He understands what it means to be awkward and is one of those “let’s be awkward together” kind of guys. He’s also super into the leaning in for cuddles. When is he not cuddling with you? Always wants to curl up in bed or on the couch as the rain falls and just hold you, humming softly and whispering little secrets about the world and everything in it. Is ready to headpat you whenever, will compare hands with you and do all that kind of cute stuff. Toby loves to go out on little adventures so like, this man is ready to do it all with you. Grocery runs where you just push each other in the carts? Doing donuts in the parking lot at midnight? Wandering the city at high noon and just existing? Little chain restaurant dates, little car rides, traversing the woods and seeing cool mushrooms, watching movies, y’know all that wholesome stuff. Toby would give you just as many nicknames! You will never out nickname him. He’s also really bad at karaoke but he would have fun doing that with you. You could,,,,,, you could roll him into a burrito if you’d like,,,,,,,,

You two as a couple & NSFW:

Toby is really patient and understanding when it comes to his romantic partners. He understands that people are different and some take their time and he’d never rush you for anything. But I feel it would be super easy for you to warm up to Toby. He’s just a pretty mellow people person, y’know? He will also gift you jewelry!! I imagine your relationship is nothing but fun and good love. Just that really wholesome stuff where everyday feels like an adventure. Toby is admittedly kinda awful at taking care of himself so please,,,,, please help him out with that sometimes. Also will get lost looking into your eyes. Just nonstop, “they’re jewels.” He finds you so sweet and so adorable, just let him love you and absolutely adore you. Also he will show you off sometimes! He’s a bit cocky at times so like, if you’re looking fine as hell (which is ALL THE TIME) I swear he is ready to be like “look at my BABY.” Toby will collect cool stuff with you. I can honestly see thrifting dates being a thing between you two, taking time to just explore and stuff. Toby has a hard time opening up about stuff so like, please, help him with that. He will eventually feel so at peace with you and so safe that he’ll just let it all out. I can also see nap dates being a thing between the two of you as well.

This was a big part of how I matched you with someone. I think Toby is a switch! Which is great, because he actually liked being dominated once and a while. He is such a whiner lmfao. He sometimes wants someone to just take over and make him melt entirely. Do that for him. Make him beg for you. Make him writhe under your touch and make him cry out in ecstasy for you. He’ll just be a mess of “please, please please - tell me I’m a good boy” and that kind of stuff. Like YES. Luckily, Toby isn’t that dominant of a person? Like, he’s cocky and definitely likes stuff a certain way but he’s not too rough or too out there most of the time. He’ll always respect your boundaries and he’s just, y’know, a good soft dom. He can do praise really, really well. I also don’t think Toby liked being degraded or that he’s particularly good at degrading people either, so like, I don’t think you have to worry about that. Toby is kind of a scratcher? But nothing off the wall. He’s not too big into biting either. I think he’s big on intimacy as well. So, I really don’t think you need to worry about angry or hate sex. He’s a tad possessive?? But honestly just tell him what you will and won’t allow and he’ll follow through with that. He’s honestly so thrilled you’re letting him touch you.

Closing Thoughts/Other Things:

Hi love bug, you are really really sweet oh my goodness? I'd love to get to know you better just by what you wrote here omfg, flattering me silly. Though, I don’t think you actually gave me your age, I am trusting you immensely-- partly because you included kinks. And the other part just said,,,,, okay,,, I'm trusting you (and it didn't feel right to just make this one platonic.) That's all. Other than that, no, tell me about your humor! Tell me about it and your playlists, and whatever else you find fun and interesting with the world! This blog is just one giant “I will soak up everything bc ily.” You sound like such a sweet person, very sunshiney and just really - like my heart reading this stuff made me happy. I was happy reading this. Other than you being such a lovely person, as always, let me know what you think and I hope you enjoyed! <3

#ticci toby #ticci toby headcanon #creepypasta matchup #matchup #ticci toby creepypasta #nsft #conversations with a fish woman

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aboveallarescuer · 4 years

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What we know that Dany knows of her ancestors, dragonlore and history

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and empathetic) or aspects of hers that are usually overblown (e.g. that she's violent and ambitious). Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take.

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend Dany's character in analysis or even conversations.

*Well, at least all the passages that I could find.

Also, people may interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages, so I'm not arguing that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books!). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully cited, sometimes not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm sparing people from inaccurate (or plain wrong) opinions about Daenerys. I made this list simply because I wanted to know all that we find onpage that Daenerys knows when it comes to her ancestors, dragonlore and history.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

The dragonlords of old Valyria had controlled their mounts with binding spells and sorcerous horns.

She wondered how the ants had managed to climb over it and find her. To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he’d built it himself.

Viserys told her tales of knights so poor that they had to sleep beneath the ancient hedges that grew along the byways of the Seven Kingdoms. Dany would have given much and more for a nice thick hedge. Preferably one without an anthill.

In Westeros the dead of House Targaryen were given to the flames, but who would light her pyre here?

ADWD Daenerys VIII

“Sunspear has never been a sea power, Your Grace.”

“No.” Dany knew enough of Westerosi history to know that. Nymeria had landed ten thousand ships upon Dorne’s sandy shores, but when she wed her Dornish prince she had burned them all and turned her back upon the sea forever.

The bones on the floor of the pit were deeper than the last time she had been down here, and the walls and floors were black and grey, more ash than brick. They would not hold much longer … but behind them was only earth and stone. Can dragons tunnel through rock, like the firewyrms of old Valyria? She hoped not.

“You ... you mean to ride them?”

“One of them. All I know of dragons is what my brother told me when I was a girl, and some I read in books, but it is said that even Aegon the Conqueror never dared mount Vhagar or Meraxes, nor did his sisters ride Balerion the Black Dread. Dragons live longer than men, some for hundreds of years, so Balerion had other riders after Aegon died ... but no rider ever flew two dragons.”

“I ... I have the blood of the dragon in me as well, Your Grace. I can trace my lineage back to the first Daenerys, the Targaryen princess who was sister to King Daeron the Good and wife to the Prince of Dorne. He built the Water Gardens for her.”

“The Water Gardens?” She knew little and less of Dorne or its history, if truth be told.

“My father’s favorite palace. It would please me to show them to you one day. They are all of pink marble, with pools and fountains, overlooking the sea.”

“They sound lovely.”

“Tell me of this other Daenerys. I know less than I should of the history of my father’s kingdom. I never had a maester growing up.” Only a brother.

“It would be my pleasure, Your Grace,” said Quentyn.

ADWD Daenerys VII

When Dany told him how Serwyn of the Mirror Shield was haunted by the ghosts of all the knights he’d killed, Daario only laughed.

“Tell me,” Dany said, as the procession turned toward the Temple of the Graces, “if my father and my mother had been free to follow their own hearts, whom would they have wed?”

“It was long ago. Your Grace would not know them.”

“You know, though. Tell me.”

The old knight inclined his head. “The queen your mother was always mindful of her duty.” He was handsome in his gold-and-silver armor, his white cloak streaming from his shoulders, but he sounded like a man in pain, as if every word were a stone he had to pass. “As a girl, though … she was once smitten with a young knight from the stormlands who wore her favor at a tourney and named her queen of love and beauty. A brief thing.”

“What happened to this knight?”

“He put away his lance the day your lady mother wed your father. Afterward he became most pious, and was heard to say that only the Maiden could replace Queen Rhaella in his heart. His passion was impossible, of course. A landed knight is no fit consort for a princess of royal blood.”

And Daario Naharis is only a sellsword, not fit to buckle on the golden spurs of even a landed knight. “And my father? Was there some woman he loved better than his queen?”

Ser Barristan shifted in the saddle. “Not … not loved. Mayhaps wanted is a better word, but … it was only kitchen gossip, the whispers of washerwomen and stableboys …”

“I want to know. I never knew my father. I want to know everything about him. The good and … the rest.”

“As you command.” The white knight chose his words with care. “Prince Aerys … as a youth, he was taken with a certain lady of Casterly Rock, a cousin of Tywin Lannister. When she and Tywin wed, your father drank too much wine at the wedding feast and was heard to say that it was a great pity that the lord’s right to the first night had been abolished. A drunken jape, no more, but Tywin Lannister was not a man to forget such words, or the … the liberties your father took during the bedding.” His face reddened. “I have said too much, Your Grace. I—”

ADWD Daenerys IV

“You saw my brother Rhaegar wed. Tell me, did he wed for love or duty?”

The old knight hesitated. “Princess Elia was a good woman, Your Grace. She was kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit. I know the prince was very fond of her.”

Fond, thought Dany. The word spoke volumes. I could become fond of Hizdahr zo Loraq, in time. Perhaps.

Ser Barristan went on. “I saw your father and your mother wed as well. Forgive me, but there was no fondness there, and the realm paid dearly for that, my queen.”

“Why did they wed if they did not love each other?”

“Your grandsire commanded it. A woods witch had told him that the prince was promised would be born of their line.”

“A woods witch?” Dany was astonished.

“She came to court with Jenny of Oldstones. A stunted thing, grotesque to look upon. A dwarf, most people said, though dear to Lady Jenny, who always claimed that she was one of the children of the forest.”

“What became of her?”

“Summerhall.” The word was fraught with doom.

Dany sighed. “Leave me now. I am very weary.”

ADWD Daenerys III

The cedars that had once grown tall along the coast grew no more, felled by the axes of the Old Empire or consumed by dragonfire when Ghis made war against Valyria. Once the trees had gone, the soil baked beneath the hot sun and blew away in thick red clouds. “It was these calamities that transformed my people into slavers,” Galazza Galare had told her, at the Temple of the Graces. And I am the calamity that will change these slavers back into people, Dany had sworn to herself.

ADWD Daenerys II

“A true knight is worth ten guardsmen. The men at the gate were taken by surprise. I rode one down, wrenched away his spear, and drove it through the throat of my closest pursuer. The other broke off once I was through the gate, so I spurred my horse to a gallop and rode hellbent along the river until the city was lost to sight behind me. That night I traded my horse for a handful of pennies and some rags, and the next morning I joined the stream of smallfolk making their way to King’s Landing. I’d gone out the Mud Gate, so I returned through the Gate of the Gods, with dirt on my face, stubble on my cheeks, and no weapon but a wooden staff. In roughspun clothes and mud-caked boots, I was just one more old man fleeing the war. The gold cloaks took a stag from me and waved me through. King’s Landing was crowded with smallfolk who’d come seeking refuge from the fighting. I lost myself amongst them. I had a little silver, but I needed that to pay my passage across the narrow sea, so I slept in septs and alleys and took my meals in pot shops. I let my beard grow out and cloaked myself in age. The day Lord Stark lost his head, I was there, watching. Afterward I went into the Great Sept and thanked the seven gods that Joffrey had stripped me of my cloak.”

“Stark was a traitor who met a traitor’s end.”

“Your Grace,” said Selmy, “Eddard Stark played a part in your father’s fall, but he bore you no ill will. When the eunuch Varys told us that you were with child, Robert wanted you killed, but Lord Stark spoke against it. Rather than countenance the murder of children, he told Robert to find himself another Hand.”

“Have you forgotten Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon?”

“Never. That was Lannister work, Your Grace.”

“Lannister or Stark, what difference? Viserys used to call them the Usurper’s dogs. If a child is set upon by a pack of hounds, does it matter which one tears out his throat? All the dogs are just as guilty.

“They are larger.” Dany’s voice echoed off the scorched stone walls. A drop of sweat trickled down her brow and fell onto her breast. “Is it true that dragons never stop growing?”

“If they have food enough, and space to grow. Chained up in here, though …”

Viserys had told her all the tales when she was little. He loved to talk of dragons. She knew how Harrenhal had fallen. She knew about the Field of Fire and the Dance of the Dragons. One of her forebears, the third Aegon, had seen his own mother devoured by his uncle’s dragon. And there were songs beyond count of villages and kingdoms that lived in dread of dragons till some brave dragonslayer rescued them. At Astapor the slaver’s eyes had melted. On the road to Yunkai, when Daario tossed the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn at her feet, her children made a feast of them. Dragons had no fear of men. And a dragon large enough to gorge on sheep could take a child just as easily.

ADWD Daenerys I

Dragons are fire made flesh. She had read that in one of the books Ser Jorah had given her as a wedding gift.

A crown should not sit easy on the head. One of her royal forebears had said that, once. Some Aegon, but which one? Five Aegons had ruled the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. There would have been a sixth, but the Usurper’s dogs had murdered her brother’s son when he was still a babe at the breast. If he had lived, I might have married him. Aegon would have been closer to my age than Viserys. Dany had only been conceived when Aegon and his sister were murdered. Their father, her brother Rhaegar, perished even earlier, slain by the Usurper on the Trident. Her brother Viserys had died screaming in Vaes Dothrak with a crown of molten gold upon his head.

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

“I am no maester to quote history at you, Your Grace. Swords have been my life, not books. But every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. Your father was not the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, he said, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.”

Jaehaerys. This old man knew my grandfather. The thought gave her pause. Most of what she knew of Westeros had come from her brother, and the rest from Ser Jorah. Ser Barristan would have forgotten more than the two of them had ever known. This man can tell me what I came from.

“Bring me the book I was reading last night.” She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children’s stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful.

ASOS Daenerys V

Her captains bowed and left her with her handmaids and her dragons. But as Brown Ben was leaving, Viserion spread his pale white wings and flapped lazily at his head. One of the wings buffeted the sellsword in his face. The white dragon landed awkwardly with one foot on the man’s head and one on his shoulder, shrieked, and flew off again. “He likes you, Ben “ said Dany.

“And well he might.” Brown Ben laughed. “I have me a drop of the dragon blood myself, you know.”

“You?” Dany was startled. Plumm was a creature of the free companies, an amiable mongrel. He had a broad brown face with a broken nose and a head of nappy grey hair, and his Dothraki mother had bequeathed him large, dark, almond-shaped eyes. He claimed to be part Braavosi, part Summer Islander, part Ibbenese, part Qohorik, part Dothraki, part Dornish, and part Westerosi, but this was the first she had heard of Targaryen blood. She gave him a searching look and said, “How could that be?”

“Well,” said Brown Ben, “there was some old Plumm in the Sunset Kingdoms who wed a dragon princess. My grandmama told me the tale. He lived in King Aegon’s day.”

“Which King Aegon?” Dany asked. “Five Aegons have ruled in Westeros.” Her brother’s son would have been the sixth, but the Usurper’s men had dashed his head against a wall.

“Five, were there? Well, that’s a confusion. I could not give you a number, my queen. This old Plumm was a lord, though, must have been a famous fellow in his day, the talk of all the land. The thing was, begging your royal pardon, he had himself a cock six foot long.”

The three bells in Dany’s braid tinkled when she laughed. “You mean inches, I think.”

“Feet,” Brown Ben said firmly. “If it was inches, who’d want to talk about it, now? Your Grace.”

Dany giggled like a little girl. “Did your grandmother claim she’d actually seen this prodigy?”

“That the old crone never did. She was half-Ibbenese and half-Qohorik, never been to Westeros, my grandfather must have told her. Some Dothraki killed him before I was born.”

“And where did your grandfather’s knowledge come from?”

“One of them tales told at the teat, I’d guess.” Brown Ben shrugged. “That’s all I know about Aegon the Unnumbered or old Lord Plumm’s mighty manhood, I fear. I best see to my Sons.”

“Go do that,” Dany told him.

She could see her ships standing out to sea. Balerion floated nearest; the great cog once known as Saduleon, her sails furled. Further out were the galleys Meraxes and Vhagar, formerly Joso’s Prank and Summer Sun. They were Magister Illyrio’s ships, in truth, not hers at all, and yet she had given them new names with hardly a thought. Dragon names, and more; in old Valyria before the Doom, Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar had been gods.

ASOS Daenerys IV

“You must be my children,” she told the dragons, “my three fierce children. Arstan says dragons live longer than men, so you will go on after I am dead.”

When the old man came, she was curled up inside her hrakkar pelt, whose musty smell still reminded her of Drogo. “I cannot sleep when men are dying for me, Whitebeard,” she said. “Tell me more of my brother Rhaegar, if you would. I liked the tale you told me on the ship, of how he decided that he must be a warrior.”

“Your Grace is kind to say so.” 

“Viserys said that our brother won many tourneys.”

Arstan bowed his white head respectfully. “It is not meet for me to deny His Grace’s words ...”

“But?” said Dany sharply. “Tell me. I command it.”

“Prince Rhaegar’s prowess was unquestioned, but he seldom entered the lists. He never loved the song of swords the way that Robert did, or Jaime Lannister. It was something he had to do, a task the world had set him. He did it well, for he did everything well. That was his nature. But he took no joy in it. Men said that he loved his harp much better than his lance.”

“He won some tourneys, surely,” said Dany, disappointed.

“When he was young, His Grace rode brilliantly in a tourney at Storm’s End, defeating Lord Steffon Baratheon, Lord Jason Mallister, the Red Viper of Dorne, and a mystery knight who proved to be the infamous Simon Toyne, chief of the kingswood outlaws. He broke twelve lances against Ser Arthur Dayne that day.”

“Was he the champion, then?”

“No, Your Grace. That honor went to another knight of the Kingsguard, who unhorsed Prince Rhaegar in the final tilt.”

Dany did not want to hear about Rhaegar being unhorsed. “But what tourneys did my brother win?”

“Your Grace.” The old man hesitated. “He won the greatest tourney of them all.”

“Which was that?” Dany demanded.

“The tourney Lord Whent staged at Harrenhal beside the Gods Eye, in the year of the false spring. A notable event. Besides the jousting, there was a mêlée in the old style fought between seven teams of knights, as well as archery and axe-throwing, a horse race, a tournament of singers, a mummer show, and many feasts and frolics. Lord Whent was as open handed as he was rich. The lavish purses he proclaimed drew hundreds of challengers. Even your royal father came to Harrenhal, when he had not left the Red Keep for long years. The greatest lords and mightiest champions of the Seven Kingdoms rode in that tourney, and the Prince of Dragonstone bested them all.”

“But that was the tourney when he crowned Lyanna Stark as queen of love and beauty!” said Dany. “Princess Elia was there, his wife, and yet my brother gave the crown to the Stark girl, and later stole her away from her betrothed. How could he do that? Did the Dornish woman treat him so ill?”

“It is not for such as me to say what might have been in your brother’s heart, Your Grace. The Princess Elia was a good and gracious lady, though her health was ever delicate.”

Dany pulled the lion pelt tighter about her shoulders. “Viserys said once that it was my fault, for being born too late.” She had denied it hotly, she remembered, going so far as to tell Viserys that it was his fault for not being born a girl. He beat her cruelly for that insolence. “If I had been born more timely, he said, Rhaegar would have married me instead of Elia, and it would all have come out different. If Rhaegar had been happy in his wife, he would not have needed the Stark girl.”

“Perhaps so, Your Grace.” Whitebeard paused a moment. “But I am not certain it was in Rhaegar to be happy.”

“You make him sound so sour,” Dany protested.

“Not sour, no, but ... there was a melancholy to Prince Rhaegar, a sense ...” The old man hesitated again.

“Say it,” she urged. “A sense ...?”

“... of doom. He was born in grief, my queen, and that shadow hung over him all his days.”

Viserys had spoken of Rhaegar’s birth only once. Perhaps the tale saddened him too much. “It was the shadow of Summerhall that haunted him, was it not?”

“Yes. And yet Summerhall was the place the prince loved best. He would go there from time to time, with only his harp for company. Even the knights of the Kingsguard did not attend him there. He liked to sleep in the ruined hall, beneath the moon and stars, and whenever he came back he would bring a song. When you heard him play his high harp with the silver strings and sing of twilights and tears and the death of kings, you could not but feel that he was singing of himself and those he loved.”

“What of the Usurper? Did he play sad songs as well?”

Arstan chuckled. “Robert? Robert liked songs that made him laugh, the bawdier the better. He only sang when he was drunk, and then it was like to be ‘A Cask of Ale’ or ‘Fifty-Four Tuns’ or ‘The Bear and the Maiden Fair.’ Robert was much—”

ASOS Daenerys II

The harpy of Ghis, Dany thought. Old Ghis had fallen five thousand years ago, if she remembered true; its legions shattered by the might of young Valyria, its brick walls pulled down, its streets and buildings turned to ash and cinder by dragonflame, its very fields sown with salt, sulfur, and skulls. The gods of Ghis were dead, and so too its people; these Astapori were mongrels, Ser Jorah said. Even the Ghiscari tongue was largely forgotten; the slave cities spoke the High Valyrian of their conquerors, or what they had made of it.

Yet the symbol of the Old Empire still endured here, though this bronze monster had a heavy chain dangling from her talons, an open manacle at either end. The harpy of Ghis had a thunderbolt in her claws. This is the harpy of Astapor.

“When Aegon the Dragon stepped ashore in Westeros, the kings of Vale and Rock and Reach did not rush to hand him their crowns. If you mean to sit his Iron Throne, you must win it as he did, with steel and dragonfire. And that will mean blood on your hands before the thing is done.”

ASOS Daenerys I

“How big will he grow?” Dany asked curiously. “Do you know?”

“In the Seven Kingdoms, there are tales of dragons who grew so huge that they could pluck giant krakens from the seas.”

Dany laughed. “That would be a wondrous sight to see.”

“It is only a tale, Khaleesi,” said her exile knight. “They talk of wise old dragons living a thousand years as well.”

“Well, how long does a dragon live?” She looked up as Viserion swooped low over the ship, his wings beating slowly and stirring the limp sails.

Ser Jorah shrugged. “A dragon’s natural span of days is many times as long as a man’s, or so the songs would have us believe ... but the dragons the Seven Kingdoms knew best were those of House Targaryen. They were bred for war, and in war they died. It is no easy thing to slay a dragon, but it can be done.”

The squire Whitebeard, standing by the figurehead with one lean hand curled about his tall hardwood staff, turned toward them and said, “Balerion the Black Dread was two hundred years old when he died during the reign of Jaehaerys the Conciliator. He was so large he could swallow an aurochs whole. A dragon never stops growing, Your Grace, so long as he has food and freedom.” His name was Arstan, but Strong Belwas had named him Whitebeard for his pale whiskers, and most everyone called him that now. He was taller than Ser Jorah, though not so muscular; his eyes were a pale blue, his long beard as white as snow and as fine as silk.

“Freedom?” asked Dany, curious. “What do you mean?”

“In King’s Landing, your ancestors raised an immense domed castle for their dragons. The Dragonpit, it is called. It still stands atop the Hill of Rhaenys, though all in ruins now. That was where the royal dragons dwelt in days of yore, and a cavernous dwelling it was, with iron doors so wide that thirty knights could ride through them abreast. Yet even so, it was noted that none of the pit dragons ever reached the size of their ancestors. The maesters say it was because of the walls around them, and the great dome above their heads.”

“If walls could keep us small, peasants would all be tiny and kings as large as giants,” said Ser Jorah. “I’ve seen huge men born in hovels, and dwarfs who dwelt in castles.”

“Men are men,” Whitebeard replied. “Dragons are dragons.”

Ser Jorah snorted his disdain. “How profound.” The exile knight had no love for the old man, he’d made that plain from the first. “What do you know of dragons, anyway?”

“Little enough, that’s true. Yet I served for a time in King’s Landing in the days when King Aerys sat the Iron Throne, and walked beneath the dragonskulls that looked down from the walls of his throne room.”

“Viserys talked of those skulls,” said Dany. “The Usurper took them down and hid them away. He could not bear them looking down on him upon his stolen throne.” She beckoned Whitebeard closer. “Did you ever meet my royal father?” King Aerys II had died before his daughter was born.

“I had that great honor, Your Grace.” “Did you find him good and gentle?”

Whitebeard did his best to hide his feelings, but they were there, plain on his face. “His Grace was ... often pleasant.”

“Often?” Dany smiled. “But not always?” 

“He could be very harsh to those he thought his enemies.” 

“A wise man never makes an enemy of a king,” said Dany. “Did you know my brother Rhaegar as well?” 

“It was said that no man ever knew Prince Rhaegar, truly. I had the privilege of seeing him in tourney, though, and often heard him play his harp with its silver strings.”

Ser Jorah snorted. “Along with a thousand others at some harvest feast. Next you’ll claim you squired for him.”

“I make no such claim, ser. Myles Mooton was Prince Rhaegar’s squire, and Richard Lonmouth after him. When they won their spurs, he knighted them himself, and they remained his close companions. Young Lord Connington was dear to the prince as well, but his oldest friend was Arthur Dayne.”

“The Sword of the Morning!” said Dany, delighted. “Viserys used to talk about his wondrous white blade. He said Ser Arthur was the only knight in the realm who was our brother’s peer.”

Whitebeard bowed his head. “It is not my place to question the words of Prince Viserys.”

“King,” Dany corrected. “He was a king, though he never reigned. Viserys, the Third of His Name. But what do you mean?” His answer had not been one that she’d expected. “Ser Jorah named Rhaegar the last dragon once. He had to have been a peerless warrior to be called that, surely?”

“Your Grace,” said Whitebeard, “the Prince of Dragonstone was a most puissant warrior, but ...”

“Go on,” she urged. “You may speak freely to me.”

“As you command.” The old man leaned upon his hardwood staff, his brow furrowed. “A warrior without peer ... those are fine words, Your Grace, but words win no battles.”

“Swords win battles,” Ser Jorah said bluntly. “And Prince Rhaegar knew how to use one.” 

“He did, ser, but ... I have seen a hundred tournaments and more wars than I would wish, and however strong or fast or skilled a knight may be, there are others who can match him. A man will win one tourney, and fall quickly in the next. A slick spot in the grass may mean defeat, or what you ate for supper the night before. A change in the wind may bring the gift of victory.” He glanced at Ser Jorah. “Or a lady’s favor knotted round an arm.”

Mormont’s face darkened. “Be careful what you say, old man.”

Arstan had seen Ser Jorah fight at Lannisport, Dany knew, in the tourney Mormont had won with a lady’s favor knotted round his arm. He had won the lady too; Lynesse of House Hightower, his second wife, highborn and beautiful ... but she had ruined him, and abandoned him, and the memory of her was bitter to him now. “Be gentle, my knight.” She put a hand on Jorah’s arm. “Arstan had no wish to give offense, I’m certain.”

“As you say, Khaleesi.” Ser Jorah’s voice was grudging.

Dany turned back to the squire. “I know little of Rhaegar. Only the tales Viserys told, and he was a little boy when our brother died. What was he truly like?”

The old man considered a moment. “Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded. There is a tale told of him ... but doubtless Ser Jorah knows it as well.”

“I would hear it from you.”

“As you wish,” said Whitebeard. “As a young boy, the Prince of Dragonstone was bookish to a fault. He was reading so early that men said Queen Rhaella must have swallowed some books and a candle whilst he was in her womb. Rhaegar took no interest in the play of other children. The maesters were awed by his wits, but his father’s knights would jest sourly that Baelor the Blessed had been born again. Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms, and said, ‘I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.’”

“And he was!” said Dany, delighted.

“He was indeed.” Whitebeard bowed. “My pardons, Your Grace. We speak of warriors, and I see that Strong Belwas has arisen. I must attend him.”

In time, the dragons would be her most formidable guardians, just as they had been for Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters three hundred years ago.

“Illyrio Mopatis wants you back in Pentos, under his roof. Very well, go to him ... but in your own time, and not alone. Let us see how loyal and obedient these new subjects of yours truly are. Command Groleo to change course for Slaver’s Bay.”

Dany was not certain she liked the sound of that at all. Everything she’d ever heard of the flesh marts in the great slave cities of Yunkai, Meereen, and Astapor was dire and frightening. “What is there for me in Slaver’s Bay?”

“An army,” said Ser Jorah. “If Strong Belwas is so much to your liking you can buy hundreds more like him out of the fighting pits of Meereen ... but it is Astapor I’d set my sails for. In Astapor you can buy Unsullied.”

“The slaves in the spiked bronze hats?” Dany had seen Unsullied guards in the Free Cities, posted at the gates of magisters, archons, and dynasts. “Why should I want Unsullied? They don’t even ride horses, and most of them are fat.”

“The Unsullied you may have seen in Pentos and Myr were household guards. That’s soft service, and eunuchs tend to plumpness in any case. Food is the only vice allowed them. To judge all Unsullied by a few old household slaves is like judging all squires by Arstan Whitebeard, Your Grace. Do you know the tale of the Three Thousand of Qohor?”

“No.” The coverlet slipped off Dany’s shoulder, and she tugged it back into place.

“It was four hundred years ago or more, when the Dothraki first rode out of the east, sacking and burning every town and city in their path. The khal who led them was named Temmo. His khalasar was not so big as Drogo’s, but it was big enough. Fifty thousand, at the least. Half of them braided warriors with bells ringing in their hair.

“The Qohorik knew he was coming. They strengthened their walls, doubled the size of their own guard, and hired two free companies besides, the Bright Banners and the Second Sons. And almost as an afterthought, they sent a man to Astapor to buy three thousand Unsullied. It was a long march back to Qohor, however, and as they approached they saw the smoke and dust and heard the distant din of battle.

“By the time the Unsullied reached the city the sun had set. Crows and wolves were feasting beneath the walls on what remained of the Qohorik heavy horse. The Bright Banners and Second Sons had fled, as sellswords are wont to do in the face of hopeless odds. With dark falling, the Dothraki had retired to their own camps to drink and dance and feast, but none doubted that they would return on the morrow to smash the city gates, storm the walls, and rape, loot, and slave as they pleased.

“But when dawn broke and Temmo and his bloodriders led their khalasar out of camp, they found three thousand Unsullied drawn up before the gates with the Black Goat standard flying over their heads. So small a force could easily have been flanked, but you know Dothraki. These were men on foot, and men on foot are fit only to be ridden down.

“The Dothraki charged. The Unsullied locked their shields, lowered their spears, and stood firm. Against twenty thousand screamers with bells in their hair, they stood firm.

“Eighteen times the Dothraki charged, and broke themselves on those shields and spears like waves on a rocky shore. Thrice Temmo sent his archers wheeling past and arrows fell like rain upon the Three Thousand, but the Unsullied merely lifted their shields above their heads until the squall had passed. In the end only six hundred of them remained ... but more than twelve thousand Dothraki lay dead upon that field, including Khal Temmo, his bloodriders, his kos, and all his sons. On the morning of the fourth day, the new khal led the survivors past the city gates in a stately procession. One by one, each man cut off his braid and threw it down before the feet of the Three Thousand.

“Since that day, the city guard of Qohor has been made up solely of Unsullied, every one of whom carries a tall spear from which hangs a braid of human hair.

“That is what you will find in Astapor, Your Grace. Put ashore there, and continue on to Pentos overland. It will take longer, yes ... but when you break bread with Magister Illyrio, you will have a thousand swords behind you, not just four.”

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys V

“The dragon has three heads,” she sighed. “Do you know what that means, Jorah?”

“Your Grace? The sigil of House Targaryen is a three-headed dragon, red on black.”

“I know that. But there are no three-headed dragons.”

“The three heads were Aegon and his sisters.”

“Visenya and Rhaenys,” she recalled. “I am descended from Aegon and Rhaenys through their son Aenys and their grandson Jaehaerys.”

“His is the song of ice and fire, my brother said. I’m certain it was my brother. Not Viserys, Rhaegar. He had a harp with silver strings.”

Ser Jorah’s frown deepened until his eyebrows came together. “Prince Rhaegar played such a harp,” he conceded. “You saw him?”

She nodded. “There was a woman in a bed with a babe at her breast. My brother said the babe was the prince that was promised and told her to name him Aegon.”

“Prince Aegon was Rhaegar’s heir by Elia of Dorne,” Ser Jorah said. “But if he was this prince that was promised, the promise was broken along with his skull when the Lannisters dashed his head against a wall.”

“I remember,” Dany said sadly. “They murdered Rhaegar’s daughter as well, the little princess. Rhaenys, she was named, like Aegon’s sister. There was no Visenya, but he said the dragon has three heads. What is the song of ice and fire?”

“It’s no song I’ve ever heard.”

ACOK Daenerys I

Such little things, she thought as she fed them by hand, or rather, tried to feed them, for the dragons would not eat. They would hiss and spit at each bloody morsel of horsemeat, steam rising from their nostrils, yet they would not take the food ... until Dany recalled something Viserys had told her when they were children.

Only dragons and men eat cooked meat, he had said.

“Aegon’s dragons were named for the gods of Old Valyria,” she told her bloodriders one morning after a long night’s journey. “Visenya’s dragon was Vhagar, Rhaenys had Meraxes, and Aegon rode Balerion, the Black Dread. It was said that Vhagar’s breath was so hot that it could melt a knight’s armor and cook the man inside, that Meraxes swallowed horses whole, and Balerion ... his fire was as black as his scales, his wings so vast that whole towns were swallowed up in their shadow when he passed overhead.”

The Dothraki looked at her hatchlings uneasily. The largest of her three was shiny black, his scales slashed with streaks of vivid scarlet to match his wings and horns. “Khaleesi,” Aggo murmured, “there sits Balerion, come again.”

If I had wings, I would want to fly too, Dany thought. The Targaryens of old had ridden upon dragonback when they went to war. She tried to imagine what it would feel like, to straddle a dragon’s neck and soar high into the air. It would be like standing on a mountaintop, only better. The whole world would be spread out below. If I flew high enough, I could even see the Seven Kingdoms, and reach up and touch the comet.

“Tell me the name of your ghost, Jorah. You know all of mine.”

His face grew very still. “Her name was Lynesse.” “Your wife?” “My second wife.”

It pains him to speak of her, Dany saw, but she wanted to know the truth. “Is that all you would say of her?” The lion pelt slid off one shoulder and she tugged it back into place. “Was she beautiful?”

“Very beautiful.” Ser Jorah lifted his eyes from her shoulder to her face. “The first time I beheld her, I thought she was a goddess come to earth, the Maid herself made flesh. Her birth was far above my own. She was the youngest daughter of Lord Leyton Hightower of Oldtown. The White Bull who commanded your father’s Kingsguard was her great-uncle. The Hightowers are an ancient family, very rich and very proud.”

“And loyal,” Dany said. “I remember, Viserys said the Hightowers were among those who stayed true to my father.”

“That’s so,” he admitted.

“Did your fathers make the match?”

“No,” he said. “Our marriage ... that makes a long tale and a dull one, Your Grace. I would not trouble you with it.”

“I have nowhere to go,” she said. “Please.”

“As my queen commands.” Ser Jorah frowned. “My home ... you must understand that to understand the rest. Bear Island is beautiful, but remote. Imagine old gnarled oaks and tall pines, flowering thornbushes, grey stones bearded with moss, little creeks running icy down steep hillsides. The hall of the Mormonts is built of huge logs and surrounded by an earthen palisade. Aside from a few crofters, my people live along the coasts and fish the seas. The island lies far to the north, and our winters are more terrible than you can imagine, Khaleesi.”

“Still, the island suited me well enough, and I never lacked for women. I had my share of fishwives and crofter’s daughters, before and after I was wed. I married young, to a bride of my father’s choosing, a Glover of Deepwood Motte. Ten years we were wed, or near enough as makes no matter. She was a plain-faced woman, but not unkind. I suppose I came to love her after a fashion, though our relations were dutiful rather than passionate. Three times she miscarried while trying to give me an heir. The last time she never recovered. She died not long after.”

Dany put her hand on his and gave his fingers a squeeze. “I am sorry for you, truly.”

Ser Jorah nodded. “By then my father had taken the black, so I was Lord of Bear Island in my own right. I had no lack of marriage offers, but before I could reach a decision Lord Balon Greyjoy rose in rebellion against the Usurper, and Ned Stark called his banners to help his friend Robert. The final battle was on Pyke. When Robert’s stonethrowers opened a breach in King Balon’s wall, a priest from Myr was the first man through, but I was not far behind. For that I won my knighthood.”

“To celebrate his victory, Robert ordained that a tourney should be held outside Lannisport. It was there I saw Lynesse, a maid half my age. She had come up from Oldtown with her father to see her brothers joust. I could not take my eyes off her. In a fit of madness, I begged her favor to wear in the tourney, never dreaming she would grant my request, yet she did.”

“I fight as well as any man, Khaleesi, but I have never been a tourney knight. Yet with Lynesse’s favor knotted round my arm, I was a different man. I won joust after joust. Lord Jason Mallister fell before me, and Bronze Yohn Royce. Ser Ryman Frey, his brother Ser Hosteen, Lord Whent, Strongboar, even Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard, I unhorsed them all. In the last match, I broke nine lances against Jaime Lannister to no result, and King Robert gave me the champion’s laurel. I crowned Lynesse queen of love and beauty, and that very night went to her father and asked for her hand. I was drunk, as much on glory as on wine. By rights I should have gotten a contemptuous refusal, but Lord Leyton accepted my offer. We were married there in Lannisport, and for a fortnight I was the happiest man in the wide world.”

“Only a fortnight?” asked Dany. Even I was given more happiness than that, with Drogo who was my sun-and-stars.

“A fortnight was how long it took us to sail from Lannisport back to Bear Island. My home was a great disappointment to Lynesse. It was too cold, too damp, too far away, my castle no more than a wooden longhall. We had no masques, no mummer shows, no balls or fairs. Seasons might pass without a singer ever coming to play for us, and there’s not a goldsmith on the island. Even meals became a trial. My cook knew little beyond his roasts and stews, and Lynesse soon lost her taste for fish and venison.”

“I lived for her smiles, so I sent all the way to Oldtown for a new cook, and brought a harper from Lannisport. Goldsmiths, jewelers, dressmakers, whatever she wanted I found for her, but it was never enough. Bear Island is rich in bears and trees, and poor in aught else. I built a fine ship for her and we sailed to Lannisport and Oldtown for festivals and fairs, and once even to Braavos, where I borrowed heavily from the moneylenders. It was as a tourney champion that I had won her hand and heart, so I entered other tourneys for her sake, but the magic was gone. I never distinguished myself again, and each defeat meant the loss of another charger and another suit of jousting armor, which must needs be ransomed or replaced. The cost could not be borne. Finally I insisted we return home, but there matters soon grew even worse than before. I could no longer pay the cook and the harper, and Lynesse grew wild when I spoke of pawning her jewels.”

“The rest ... I did things it shames me to speak of. For gold. So Lynesse might keep her jewels, her harper, and her cook. In the end it cost me all. When I heard that Eddard Stark was coming to Bear Island, I was so lost to honor that rather than stay and face his judgment, I took her with me into exile. Nothing mattered but our love, I told myself. We fled to Lys, where I sold my ship for gold to keep us.”

His voice was thick with grief, and Dany was reluctant to press him any further, yet she had to know how it ended. “Did she die there?” she asked him gently.

“Only to me,” he said. “In half a year my gold was gone, and I was obliged to take service as a sellsword. While I was fighting Braavosi on the Rhoyne, Lynesse moved into the manse of a merchant prince named Tregar Ormollen. They say she is his chief concubine now, and even his wife goes in fear of her.”

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys VIII

The child kicked inside her, as if he had heard. Dany remembered the story Viserys had told her, of what the Usurper’s dogs had done to Rhaegar’s children. His son had been a babe as well, yet they had ripped him from his mother’s breast and dashed his head against a wall. That was the way of men. “They must not hurt my son!” she cried.

She told herself she would die for him, if she must. She was the blood of the dragon, she would not be afraid. Her brother Rhaegar had died for the woman he loved.

AGOT Daenerys III

“Have you ever seen a dragon?” she asked as Irri scrubbed her back and Jhiqui sluiced sand from her hair. She had heard that the first dragons had come from the east, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai and the islands of the Jade Sea. Perhaps some were still living there, in realms strange and wild.

“Dragons are gone, Khaleesi,” Irri said.

“Dead,” agreed Jhiqui. “Long and long ago.”

Viserys had told her that the last Targaryen dragons had died no more than a century and a half ago, during the reign of Aegon III, who was called the Dragonbane. That did not seem so long ago to Dany. “Everywhere?” she said, disappointed. “Even in the east?” Magic had died in the west when the Doom fell on Valyria and the Lands of the Long Summer, and neither spell-forged steel nor stormsingers nor dragons could hold it back, but Dany had always heard that the east was different. It was said that manticores prowled the islands of the Jade Sea, that basilisks infested the jungles of Yi Ti, that spellsingers, warlocks, and aeromancers practiced their arts openly in Asshai, while shadowbinders and bloodmages worked terrible sorceries in the black of night. Why shouldn’t there be dragons too?

“No dragon,” Irri said. “Brave men kill them, for dragon terrible evil beasts. It is known.” “It is known,” agreed Jhiqui.

“A trader from Qarth once told me that dragons came from the moon,” blond Doreah said as she warmed a towel over the fire. Jhiqui and Irri were of an age with Dany, Dothraki girls taken as slaves when Drogo destroyed their father’s khalasar. Doreah was older, almost twenty. Magister Illyrio had found her in a pleasure house in Lys.

Silvery-wet hair tumbled across her eyes as Dany turned her head, curious. “The moon?”

“He told me the moon was an egg, Khaleesi,” the Lysene girl said. “Once there were two moons in the sky, but one wandered too close to the sun and cracked from the heat. A thousand thousand dragons poured forth, and drank the fire of the sun. That is why dragons breathe flame. One day the other moon will kiss the sun too, and then it will crack and the dragons will return.”

The two Dothraki girls giggled and laughed. “You are foolish strawhead slave,” Irri said. “Moon is no egg. Moon is god, woman wife of sun. It is known.”

“It is known,” Jhiqui agreed.

AGOT Daenerys I

Somewhere beyond the sunset, across the narrow sea, lay a land of green hills and flowered plains and great rushing rivers, where towers of dark stone rose amidst magnificent blue-grey mountains, and armored knights rode to battle beneath the banners of their lords. The Dothraki called that land Rhaesh Andahli, the land of the Andals. In the Free Cities, they talked of Westeros and the Sunset Kingdoms. Her brother had a simpler name. “Our land,” he called it. The words were like a prayer with him. If he said them enough, the gods were sure to hear. “Ours by blood right, taken from us by treachery, but ours still, ours forever. You do not steal from the dragon, oh, no. The dragon remembers.”

And perhaps the dragon did remember, but Dany could not. She had never seen this land her brother said was theirs, this realm beyond the narrow sea. These places he talked of, Casterly Rock and the Eyrie, Highgarden and the Vale of Arryn, Dorne and the Isle of Faces, they were just words to her. Viserys had been a boy of eight when they fled King’s Landing to escape the advancing armies of the Usurper, but Daenerys had been only a quickening in their mother’s womb.

Yet sometimes Dany would picture the way it had been, so often had her brother told her the stories. The midnight flight to Dragonstone, moonlight shimmering on the ship’s black sails. Her brother Rhaegar battling the Usurper in the bloody waters of the Trident and dying for the woman he loved. The sack of King’s Landing by the ones Viserys called the Usurper’s dogs, the lords Lannister and Stark. Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar’s heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. The polished skulls of the last dragons staring down sightlessly from the walls of the throne room while the Kingslayer opened Father’s throat with a golden sword.

She had been born on Dragonstone nine moons after their flight, while a raging summer storm threatened to rip the island fastness apart. They said that storm was terrible. The Targaryen fleet was smashed while it lay at anchor, and huge stone blocks were ripped from the parapets and sent hurtling into the wild waters of the narrow sea. Her mother had died birthing her, and for that her brother Viserys had never forgiven her.

She did not remember Dragonstone either. They had run again, just before the Usurper’s brother set sail with his new-built fleet. By then only Dragonstone itself, the ancient seat of their House, had remained of the Seven Kingdoms that had once been theirs. It would not remain for long. The garrison had been prepared to sell them to the Usurper, but one night Ser Willem Darry and four loyal men had broken into the nursery and stolen them both, along with her wet nurse, and set sail under cover of darkness for the safety of the Braavosian coast.

She remembered Ser Willem dimly, a great grey bear of a man, half-blind, roaring and bellowing orders from his sickbed. The servants had lived in terror of him, but he had always been kind to Dany. He called her “Little Princess” and sometimes “My Lady,” and his hands were soft as old leather. He never left his bed, though, and the smell of sickness clung to him day and night, a hot, moist, sickly sweet odor. That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever.

They had wandered since then, from Braavos to Myr, from Myr to Tyrosh, and on to Qohor and Volantis and Lys, never staying long in any one place. Her brother would not allow it. The Usurper’s hired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one.

At first the magisters and archons and merchant princes were pleased to welcome the last Targaryens to their homes and tables, but as the years passed and the Usurper continued to sit upon the Iron Throne, doors closed and their lives grew meaner. Years past they had been forced to sell their last few treasures, and now even the coin they had gotten from Mother’s crown had gone. In the alleys and wine sinks of Pentos, they called her brother “the beggar king.” Dany did not want to know what they called her.

“We will have it all back someday, sweet sister,” he would promise her. Sometimes his hands shook when he talked about it. “The jewels and the silks, Dragonstone and King’s Landing, the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, all they have taken from us, we will have it back.” Viserys lived for that day. All that Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known.

“Drogo is so rich that even his slaves wear golden collars. A hundred thousand men ride in his khalasar, and his palace in Vaes Dothrak has two hundred rooms and doors of solid silver.” There was more like that, so much more, what a handsome man the khal was, so tall and fierce, fearless in battle, the best rider ever to mount a horse, a demon archer. Daenerys said nothing. She had always assumed that she would wed Viserys when she came of age. For centuries the Targaryens had married brother to sister, since Aegon the Conqueror had taken his sisters to bride. The line must be kept pure, Viserys had told her a thousand times; theirs was the kingsblood, the golden blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon. Dragons did not mate with the beasts of the field, and Targaryens did not mingle their blood with that of lesser men. Yet now Viserys schemed to sell her to a stranger, a barbarian.

#daenerys targaryen #dany passages #a dance with dragons #a clash of kings #a storm of swords #a game of thrones

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maviemesregles · 5 years

Text

Once I was an Eagle

Thank you all who keeps following this story, who hits Kudos on AO3, likes and reblogs and gives a kind word in the comments. It means a lot <3 I am still genuinely surprised somebody finds it interesting but I DO appreciate each and one of you for that.

This chapter has been much saved by my trusty beta Anne. Thank you! She's been my source of any possible and impossible medical info I need, patiently answering all of my questions, giving me advice and just generally making this story so much better!

Read on AO3.

Chapter I: The beginnings

Chapter II: Sassenach

Chapter III: Catharsis

Chapter IV: Lovestruck. Part I

Chapter V: Lovestruck. Part II

CHAPTER VI: Flecks of sun

Saying goodbye was something Jamie and I were very bad at. The moment we would part with a kiss (so soft that it leaves a lingering tenderness float over the lips) we text or call in a space of an hour again. We were inseparable and I could not even remember anymore how it was to live without Jamie’s constant presence in my life.

Without him making the best coffee I’ve ever had.

Without the heavyweight of his arm over my waist that kept me imprisoned in the mornings in our bed.

Without our hours-long calls when we both were in our beds on different sides of Edinburgh.

Without his solid body and warmth on my couch with a bowl of crisps and Netflix on.

Without his lips on my skin and his hands knowing every inch of my body better than anyone.

Without Jamie cuddling Adso but next moment cursing in Gaelic when my cat decides to scratch him.

Without Jamie’s quiet reassurance and gentleness when my days are particularly hard at work and he’d come with me in the shower, working out the tight muscles in my back.

Without him just being there.

Our absolute inability at saying goodbyes was one of the reasons I was invited to Broch Mordha. After I was away for a week in Boston for a medical conference, Jamie simply asked me to meet his family. So now I found myself in the kitchen next to Jenny who was making dinner. Jamie had gone to the stables to check on the new horse Brian bought before he left for Glasgow. Ian was away at work and all the children were visiting his parents. I was left alone with Jenny and somehow I felt more nervous than I anticipated. She was Jamie’s older sister and nothing escaped her eye. I’ve felt like under the microscope.

* * *

Claire’s cheeks were positively glowing when she realised it was a selfie of her and Jamie snapped on his phone during their hiking two weeks ago. It was a silly one. Jamie was smiling from ear to ear. He looked as if he received the best news ever while Claire gave him a smooch on the cheek. Her hair loose, framing her face. She had the look of a woodland faerie wild and free.

Jenny snorted noticing Claire's face had become a lovely shade of scarlet.

“Jamie put it there right after yer wee hike adventure,” Jenny adjusted a magnet (that she and Ian brought from Greece) that held a small square photo. “This is our fridge of ridiculous family photos.”

A lopsided smile touched Jenny’s lips as she turned back to the salad she was preparing. No longer under the curious gaze of Jamie's older sister, Claire looked at the numerous pictures of the Frasers gracing the refrigerator.

There were childhood photos of all siblings, including William. One captured all three of them playing in a small swimming pool outside on a particularly sunny day. A little girl about six-years-old, with two dark ponytails, was laughing while she was held high up by her father. Her brother Willie, accompanied by his red-headed brother Jamie, seemed fascinated by a yellow ball he held in his hands. Jamie clearly made an effort to relieve his brother of the toy.

Claire’s eyes moved up finding a picture of Christmas day.

In that picture, Ellen Fraser sat with a little swaddled baby in her arms, (it was Jamie, Claire assumed), on a carpet by the huge Christmas tree surrounded by her other two bairns, who proudly held their new presents, with ripped wrapping paper scattered around them.

A black and white photo captured their wedding day showing the happy faces of Frasers standing outside the church in Inverness. Another one of Jamie all dressed up at his High school graduation. One of Jenny holding her university diploma, both parents proud at her side. Ian and Jenny on their honeymoon in Spain, ridiculously tanned. Pictures of all the family members outside the hospital commemorating the birth of Jenny and Ian's first born. Ian looked overwhelmed as he held his newborn son, Jenny drowning in bouquets of flowers with a blue balloon floating over her head that said: “It’s a boy!”.

And now there was a picture of Jamie and Claire. Somehow she felt thrilled by the fact that Jamie decided to put their photo there as she belonged to this family. Showing that Claire was part of their family seemed important to him. As she turned to ask if Jenny needed any help, Jamie’s sister picked up a phone that was ringing for the second time already. Claire never knew that colour from someone’s cheeks can drain away that quickly.

“Jenny?” She tentatively touched her shoulder watching her face become paler and paler. Something frighteningly awful happened to cause a cold feeling to rise from deep within Claire's belly.

“It’s Jamie. There’s been an accident.”

* * *

When people experience sleep paralysis they often describe a feeling of choking, as if some supernatural creature would sit on their chest purposely cutting an airflow in their lungs. I felt that and more. When Jenny slid down the barstool, her hand still holding a phone I stepped closer. Her face became paper white. I managed to compose myself adopting that professional mask I always used in the hospital in spite of my breathing becoming harsh and uneven.

“Jenny, what happened? Tell me.”

She raised her head, eyes fixed on my face but not actually seeing me.

Jenny tried to stand up but shifted and almost dissolved into my arms. “Jamie had fallen from a horse. He doesna move.”

He doesna move.

Each syllable ran through my head as a manifesto cutting deep into the tissue of my brain.

Jenny sobbed, chin quivering.

“Jamie is good with horses but…” She gulped and escaped from my hand that was tight on her shoulder. “Dear God, I canna lose another brother.”

She spoke in a trembling voice and her hands shook causing me to feel the weight of a ton of bricks pressing down on my chest. With each shallow breaths, I thought I could actually feel my sternum crush. Like Jenny, my legs became weak, numb lacking the strength to carry me. My mouth became dry, my eyes burned but no tears came and I gasped for breath like a fish removed from its watery home.

“Christ, what if he’s dead” Jenny whispered flying out the door into the misty evening.

“He’s not.” I tried to sound confident but inside I just wanted to shake her and scream “Of course he’s fucking not!”.

I never knew I could run this fast. I never thought I would feel that terrifying paralyzing fear of losing someone again, not so soon after learning about Uncle Lamb's heart condition. With each meter closer to the stables my stomach clenched and the coffee I had an hour ago threatened to escape, rising up in my mouth. I tried not to imagine all the possible images of Jamie’s injured body. Jenny’s gasps and cries were crawling inside me waking my own fears, making me sick. When my eyes caught the side of Ian’s figure crouched down next to still Jamie the tears snaked down my cheeks. Sniffing, I dried the salty paths away with the back of my hand.

Suddenly I remembered when a young nurse had asked me if I could perform surgery on someone I love, on someone significant. I said I wasn’t sure. In fact, I could not. She asked me if I felt the pain when I lost a patient’s life. My answer was that of course, I did. But not without reason some people call doctors cold-hearted. If we were allowed to show our true emotions it would become a mess. There were times I had to tell that terrible news to relatives and then afterwards in the company of my cat I could allow myself to feel that pain and sadness.

But now it was Jamie. This very moment I knew true fear. The reality suspended around me and the only thing I tried to think of was the severity of the fall from the horse.

Jamie’s skin was pale and there was sweat glistening along his forehead as far as I could see. My heart was beating erratically as my trembling fingers searched and found the carotid artery on his neck. I exhaled feeling the steady pulse at his clammy skin.

“Have you called the ambulance?”

“Aye, I did the second I’d found him like this.” Ian ran his hand through hair, biting his lip nervously.

“Is he alright? He’ll wake up, right? Claire?” Jenny was squeezing Ian’s hand with such force that I was afraid she would break it.

Her voice was a mixture of hope and fear, projecting her worried state of mind and confusion on me. My eyes closed as I willed myself to concentrate pushing my emotions aside.

“First of all, we need to get him to Emergency. He fell from a height and I am not sure whether he hit his head, for that he must have CAT scan.”

Jenny nodded as she clung to her husband.

“He’ll likely regain his consciousness within the minute but if not please, don’t panic. He’ll be alright.” My voice shook at those last words. Slow but steady rising and falling of Jamie’s chest was a reassuring sign of him breathing. And I smoothed his red curls back with my palm. “You’ll be just fine. I'll make sure of it”

And that same moment Jamie’s hand stirred slightly, a little twitch but enough for my eyes start to water again. This time with relief.

His eyes fluttered open. Jamie looked disoriented and the way his lips curled into a tight line I could tell he was in pain.

“Hi there,” I whispered my palm cupping his cheek gently. “You fell off a horse, honey. But you’re going to be okay.”

He made an effort to nod, his eyes closed again.

“Jamie, are you hurt?”

“My shoulder-”

I saw his Adam’s apple bob under his skin as he swallowed.

“Hurts like hell. And I feel dizzy.” It took a great amount of exertion for those words to come out.

“Be still now.” I shushed him seeing the lights of the ambulance arriving, blue lights ablaze.

* * *

Jamie had been put onto the stretcher with me sitting beside him holding onto his hand. Finally, we arrived at the hospital where I was relegated to wait in the hospital waiting room.

The hospital of Inverness was about three times smaller than the one in Edinburgh where I worked every day. The manicured hand of the receptionist pointed me to the waiting room. That room reminded me of a train station with its plastic chairs, grey painted walls, and a sad lonely ficus. The ficus failed at an attempt to brighten and lend some coziness to the room. My imagination seemed to be running wild, as I thought that even the radiators shivered from the starkness of the place.

Picking up an old issue of Elle magazine from the colourful stack I flicked through it without actually paying attention to the content. In about twenty minutes after becoming quite sick of the TV programs playing along with their obnoxious commercials, I heard footsteps coming down the hallway. A nurse, Laura as her name badge indicated, peered at me as she tapped her clipboard with a pen.

“Ma’am are ye a relative of James Fraser?”

“No-,” I shook my head, standing up. My knees painfully jerked on the table that stood in front of me sending pain down my legs.

The nurse quirked her eyebrow in a question and before she made a guess I blurted the first thing seemed logical.

“A girlfriend.”

Laura clicked her tongue as if she did not believe me and after scribbling something down with a blue and white pen she guided me to the hallway. Her hand felt heavy and cold on my back and her accent made me replay her words in my mind at least twice.

“Mr Fraser has a severe concussion. CAT scan hasn’t shown any bleeding but we advise the patient to stay overnight to monitor the symptoms.”

I just nodded walking over the sleek floors in the hallway space where my eyes started to hurt from all shiny steel and bright white walls.

“The dislocated shoulder was treated and we’ve given him ibuprofen for the pain but he’ll need rest and peace. Mr Fraser has asked about ye. Do ye wish to stay over the night, Ma’am?”

* * *

When I entered Jamie’s hospital room he was asleep. Worn out by the accident and all the procedures that followed. Jamie rested quietly in the realm of Morpheus now. Giving my eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness I reached the bed where he laid as quietly as I could. My lips softly brushed over his forehead before I slid down the chair next to him.

Just then I allowed myself to exhale deeply, all the feelings catching up with me.

I sat there in the darkness of a late November evening watching the lights of lonely passing cars draw lines over Jamie’s face. My previous organised state of mind turned to dust in the revelation of the night creeping in. Tears stained my cheeks sliding down into the valley of my neck and finally creating a damp stain on my sweater.

I wasn’t sure where it came from but the slightest idea of losing Jamie, losing us created a hollow aching space inside my heart. It made me wrap my arms around myself for comfort as I shook my head reminding myself to breathe.

Just breathe.

You can never learn how to lose someone you love.

I’ve lost both of my parents. I was five at the time and maybe I didn't quite understand the idea of death but that evening I not only lost my parents, I also lost my childhood and old carefree self. I never got a chance to say how much I love them one more time. I’ve regretted it all my life. No matter how often I would repeat those words visiting their grave each year it would never fill that endless hole inside me.

I never got a chance to say those words to uncle Lamb. How many times did I let this sense of regret eat the flesh of my heart like a vulture devouring carrion? I knew about the poor state of his health during his last years. And I berated myself for not saying "I love you" enough.

The slightest idea of losing Jamie now slashed a deep, bleeding scar over my heart. The tears burst like a water dam, lashes heavy with dampness, my hand pressed over my lips afraid to wake Jamie with my cries.

The fear was ripping through my heart, my very being, coming out it wrenching sobs, turning my guts out. Everything became a blur as the sounds became muffled leaving me in complete silence with the only echo of my own quiet confession.

“I love you”

* * *

“I love you.” My lips repeated those three simple words again as if I was not sure I’d said them a minute ago. Sniffling into the sleeves of my sweater and smearing the remains of mascara I leaned to Jamie.

“You scared the hell out of me,” my whisper sounded hoarse and raspy. “I know you’d laugh at me. You’d say I’m a doctor and you’re in good hands. But Jamie…”

A nervous chuckle came out as I took his hand in mine, my thumb placing gentle caresses over his warm skin. Maybe I was a coward but it was easy to tell him all this while he slept.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t”

I kept repeating those words until the rivers on my cheeks dried out and all the sounds around came back to me. Soothed by Jamie’s quiet breathing my fingers caressed his stubbled jaw.

“It’s as if my soul that’s been torn and reborn started breathing from the moment you found me.”

His hand slightly twitched in mine, fingers seeking that contact. But he was still asleep. Bringing his palm to mine I pressed my dry lips to it. The same as he did on our first night together.

“Good God, I know it’s dangerous. To let myself having someone I’m afraid to lose. But it’s you that I need.”

I smiled.

“You know, when I went to that medical conference in Boston I swear I kept thinking about you each minute.”

After our ‘wee’ getaway to the Highlands life resumed its chaotic rhythm and swayed us away into the depths of it. Joe and I had to leave to the medical conference in Boston for a week. Jamie also had an urgent business he needed to deal with together with his uncles at the brewery.

We said our goodbyes with sloppy kisses at the airport and fifteen minutes rushed sex in the men toilet (where firstly I wiped the toilet seat before Jamie had settled himself down and then me on him). He laughed saying that I am ridiculously hygienic (calling me Dr.Beauchamp as he bit my earlobe gently). After moderately satisfying goodbye sex we parted promising to call each other each evening. In fact, we spoke only three times during that week and I ached for Jamie.

When day six arrived I was so ready to come back to beloved rainy and windy Scotland. Jamie and I chatted on Whatsapp for an hour creating so many plans for when I come back (it included a sex marathon to make up for the time apart, eating our favourite Chinese takeaway, going to see the new Marvel movie, Jamie promising to fix the dripping sink in my bathroom and me coming to Broch Mordha).

It was something I did not expect but something I was no longer wanting to reject. As I folded the last piece of clothing into my suitcase Jamie’s voice message popped on the app.

“Claire, there’s something I wanted to ask ye. But firstly I want ye to know there’s no pressure or anything like that. And ye can say no, I willna be offended. But it is important for me and I would be glad if ye agreed.”

His tone became a bit quieter then.

“I would love ye to come to Broch Mordha. To meet Jenny and Ian, to meet my Da. I could show ye around. Maybe ye could stay for a night?”

I recorded a message back.

“I would love to visit your hometown. Or rather home village should I say? I don’t mind that, Jamie. Especially, when I think of all the things you’d promised to do to me.”

I joked but in fact, I felt the butterflies in my stomach. Though I knew it must mean something more than we both anticipated at the beginning I was nearing that point. The point that I was ready to be in love with him. The point when my heart longed for him so much it hurt. The point where I thought I must already love him.

And when the last day opened its door my phone buzzed with a text that was trying to find its way to John Grey but ended in my jeans back pocket.

“Sorry, man, no pub this weekend. My girlfriend comes back from Boston and we have plans at home.”

My fingers typed back.

“I hope my boyfriend has good plans for me.”

The stupidest smile appeared on my face and I spent an additional five minutes at the airport security control because certain James Fraser called me his girlfriend and I knew he’d be the end of me.

“You should have seen the face of that officer, Jamie. He thought I was mad.” I whispered smiling. “But that’s the most unusual way I’ve become a girlfriend so far.”

I remembered arriving home in Scotland waiting for him to meet me there.

Something was rising in my chest when I saw him through the window walking up the front porch. God, I longed for him. I could almost cry with the want to be held by those hands again, to feel his body move against mine. But mostly I just wanted him near. To simply exist together in one space, to see his face when he wakes up and to listen to his untuned humming in the morning to the radio. To be with him. My breath hitched when the doorbell rang. Suddenly the blush crept in all the way on my neck to my cheeks. When my hands unlocked the door and Jamie entered our eyes settled on each other my heart pounded in my chest so hard I thought it’ll break free.

We haven’t seen each other for a week but it felt like years passed by and I couldn’t live without him any longer.

Jamie moved first, making two solid steps towards me before I myself wrapped my arms around him letting my head rest against his chest.

“A Leannan” He whispered softly pressing a kiss at my brow.

"I missed you” I confessed quietly, Jamie’s jacket muffling my voice.

“So did I” He smiled when his thumb raised my chin and our lips collided.

I remembered when finally we went to see that Marvel movie but in fact, I had seen only the first twenty-five minutes of it. The rest will be forever be imprinted as a memory of Jamie’s hands roaming over my body and the fact that I could never tell this story to my children.

I remembered watching Jamie fixing my bathroom sink, cursing in Gaelic every now and then. It stirred something sweet and undeniable inside me and I walked over to him pressing at least a hundred kisses to his bare back.

I remembered a time when Jamie waited for me to finish my shift at the hospital and on our way out the new (and very nosy nurse) said with mischief in her eyes that we would have “verra bonnie bairns”. It made the tips of Jamie’s ears become red and causing me to cough forcefully.

I remembered when it was time to finally come to Broch Mordha.

“Jamie, I know you cannot pick me up, I’ll take a train, it’s fine,” I started scrolling through the timetable of trains on the Edinburgh-Inverness route.

“Let Ian bring ye from the station at least, I’ll ask him,” Jamie wouldn’t drop the topic of my safety.

I smiled chewing on my lip.

“I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary. I don’t want to be a bother. You know that I can fend for myself”.

Jamie snorted but the words came out serious.

“I ken that very well, Sassenach. Yer a fierce one. But I wouldna wish for ye even to try to do that. So just agree. Aye?”

“Aye,” I mimicked him but had to admit my life now was under a guard. In every sense.

I talked a lot to him until I lulled myself to sleep in that chair.

* * *

When Jamie woke his head was spinning and he had to blink several times for his vision to adjust to the darkness of the room. He felt as though his head was splitting in two. Then that nagging pain was running down his neck all the way to his shoulder.

He could feel a familiar warmth. Claire’s hand remained curled over his. She was a fragile figure covered in shadows, crouched on that hospital chair, her head dropped down her chest. The image of her, tired, asleep and so delicate made him want to cradle her and keep her safe inside himself, with his soul being her comfort. The words echoed in his fevered memory and crawled into his heart. Taken away from his dream that was put there by Claire’s voice before.

“Tha gaol agam ort”

Claire stirred and then rose in a swift motion woken up by Jamie’s voice.

“What did you say?”

She blinked still being half drowsy.

“I said I love ye”

#fanfic #outlander fanfic #modern au #claire and jamie #the frasers #maviemesregles #once i was an eagle #flecks of sun #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #slow burn #angst

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quentinblack · 3 years

Photo

Smoke and Mirrors

Word Count: 8.5K words

Chapter 15 - Ron IV: Australia Magizoo (link to full story on FF.net)

Featuring: Ron Weasley & Hermione Granger

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. 18+/Rated R.

Author’s Notes: At the time of writing this was pretty much the longest chapter I’d ever written. I’ve read a lot of fluff/sex scenes in fanfic over the years, some good, some bad, some ugly, so whilst writing my first proper long-running fic I was somewhat hesitant about including it. I didn’t want to have it just in there for the sake of it, but if I could find a scene or chapter where I felt like it would work well for the story and the arc of, in this case Ron’s story, then I thought I would throw it in. The cool thing about this chapter I felt was playing around with subverting people’s expectations upon reading at the start, then have it go full circle towards the end of the chapter. It’s probably not the best chapter I’ve ever written, but it was one of the more entertaining ones to actually write.

A warm breeze brushed across Ron’s face, as he felt his fringe pushed to the left hand side of his face by the summery wind.

He leaned forward casually on the white marble railing towards the end of their hotel balcony, wearing just his sky-blue swimming trunks, whilst he watched the stunning sunset taking place across the scenic artificial beach that lay not far from their room.

Ron was not quite sure what kind of magic the Australians were using to conjure up such a relaxing ambience, but he was very impressed by it all the same.

There were entire geo-magical landscapes and weather-enchantment spells surrounding the inner walls of the hotel, which were all very carefully adapted for the preferences of different guests. Their part of the hotel had a tropical theme, equipped with a synthetic summer climate, palm trees and a beautiful beach, with the clearest of seas that one could imagine.

The hotel’s colossal size was such that Ron and Hermione had not managed to venture out to any of the other geo-magical landscapes yet. However, Ron read in the glossy brochure (entirely devoid of any magical moving images in full faux-muggle style) that there was also a secluded woodland retreat theme for lovers of nature, as well as a winter wonderland, equipped with a massive mountain for skiing - and there was even a newly built and increasingly popular section entirely based on muggle Britain’s royal heritage.

Brad hadn’t been joking when he’d said that Wizarding tourism was booming in Australia – and they were even taking advantage of people’s reluctance and fear to travel to Britain too. Ron wondered how long they would be able to capitalise on that particular niche, as Kingsley’s new government was hopefully going to help usher in a new era of peace and prosperity in the coming months and years.

“Ronald!”

Ron heard Hermione’s faint call of his name, which was barely audible above the gentle whirl of the simmering bubbles in their enormous en-suite hot-tub.

He stared down into the bubbles for a brief moment.

There was something about the water that did not look quite right, but he could not put his finger on what it was that was off about it.

He was, for a brief moment, utterly mesmerised by the relentless pulse of the bubbles and he very nearly hurled himself into the warm and inviting water, but then thought better of it.

“Ronald! Oh do hurry up, it’s urgent!”

There was a more frantic tone to his girlfriend’s call this time – and it was much louder too.

Perhaps she had received word that they had found her parents.

He paced quickly across the paved floor of their balcony and back into the room to see what it was that she wanted and… and…

Hermione was laying on her back, facing the balcony door… but her eyes were closed.

Ron looked at her in complete shock.

He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

She was completely naked, except for a black lace bra that slightly covered her small, firm breasts.

Her eyes were closed, but not in a state of sleep – no, quite the opposite in-fact, they were closed in a state of pure pleasure, as, with the fingers of her right hand, she softly played with herself.

Ron felt his cock harden slightly and it began to bulge in his swimming trunks as he watched her caressing her completely shaved cunt.

Hermione opened her dark, brown eyes and she grinned devilishly as they met his own.

She bit her lip slightly and motioned with her spare left hand for him to join her on the bed, whilst she continued to masturbate with her favoured right.

Ron could not quite believe his luck and momentarily paused in panic.

He had been dreaming of this moment for months, or years really.

He had secretly hoped once it was confirmed that Harry was no longer coming with them to Australia that this moment might somehow present itself, but to have it fall into his lap this way really was like a dream come true.

Ron excitedly pulled down his trunks and discarded them to the floor, letting Hermione have her first look at his now fully erect penis, which burst out from a bushy bed of red pubic hair.

“Oh fuck,” Hermione moaned, as she bit her lip once more and began playing with herself with increased vigour.

Ron had never heard her say fuck before.

It didn’t sound quite right coming out of her pure, pretty mouth, but it turned him on and made his cock swell up even more, as he began to pull himself onto the bed towards her.

“Quickly Ron,” she sighed desperately, as he clamoured towards her gorgeous naked body. “I need you inside me… please… I’ve been waiting so long for you to finally fuck me!”

Ron began to slowly pull his bulging dick towards her tight, wet vagina.

This was it.

The moment of truth.

The moment he had waited so long for.

He thrust his cock towards her, but just as he was about to enter her everything went black and faded away.

Ron woke up in a panicked, nervous sweat, breathing heavily as he came to terms with the fact he had just been dreaming.

His arms were clutched around Hermione’s waist, with the pair having slept cradled together in their pyjamas in the lightly air-conditioned room.

He felt Hermione stir slightly – and, to his absolute horror, he discovered that the erect penis part of his dream had in fact been based on reality.

His crotch was positioned in such a way that his bulging erection, which was pressing mercilessly into his pyjama bottoms, was also pressing mercilessly into Hermione’s bottom.

He thought that there was no way that she could not feel it.

Ron adjusted the positioning of his thighs slightly so that he was no longer making direct contact with her with his lower body, but just as soon as he had done that she had wriggled herself backwards a bit, which meant his cock was now pushed up against the back of one of her thighs instead.

He wriggled slightly to get away from her again, but after a few moments she once again moved back towards him, inadvertently nudging his hard-on in the process.

It was almost as if she was doing it deliberately, but she was still half-asleep and probably hadn’t even noticed what was happening.

Ron lay awake in their king-sized bed still spooning Hermione for another ten minutes, with it gradually becoming less awkward as his erection slowly subsided.

It soon became apparent though that he would not fall back to sleep any time soon, so he relented and decided to get up and shower

The hotel bathroom was state-of-the-art, even by muggle standards according to Hermione – and it was all very impressive, with the hot water jets blasting against his fair-skin soon ensuring that he was fully awake and energised.

Ron spent a considerable amount of time in the shower, as once he had fully washed his hair and body he slowly lathered himself up once again and masturbated, thinking of the naked Hermione from his dream as he relieved himself and eventually climaxed.

It took several minutes to ensure the last of his cum had trickled down the drain… then, just as the last of it was washing away there was a knock on the bathroom door.

He ignored the knock as he meticulously watched the final traces of his semen slide out of sight.

There was another knock on the door, but this time it was a fair bit louder.

“Ronald! Are you alright? You’ve been absolutely ages in there!” Hermione remarked, with a slight sound of worry in her sleepy sounding voice.

Ron quickly wrapped himself in a towel and in a slightly panicked fluster he opened the door.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just enjoying myself in the shower,” he blurted out.

“Oh, I see-

“Enjoying myself because it’s bloody brilliant!” he quickly added. “I mean, as shower’s go, its right up there… it’s really good… wakes you right up… you should try it!”

“Right, yes… well, I will have to, when I have a wash myself…” she replied, perhaps a bit confused at his feigned enthusiasm for the shower. “I was just a little worried that’s all, I know, I was just being a bit silly, but you don’t usually take that long and you locked the door and…

“You’d get used to locking bathroom doors too if you grew up living in a house with Fred and George!” he replied softly, with what he thought was a well-timed save, as he remembered the countless times that his older twin brothers had tormented him and caused many a toilet-related mishap, which were now nothing more than bittersweet memories.

“Yes, of course,” Hermione retorted. “And I know you would never wish for me to intrude or invade your privacy-

Ron momentarily considered correcting her on this point, as, on the contrary, he would’ve loved nothing more than for her to walk in on him naked, but he swiftly decided against it.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I just wanted to make sure that you were alright,” she said, as she blushed slightly.

“As always I appreciate your concern,” he joked, before leaning forward and kissing her on the lips, which caused his soaking wet hair to press right up against her dry, bushy mane.

She was slightly taken aback at first, but then soon pressed her lips back to his – and she even briefly parted them, to allow him to slip his tongue into her mouth, before she reached back and broke free.

“Oh and can you believe this?” she demanded, instantly killing the moment, as she then reached down towards the bed and picked up their daily newspaper, which must have been delivered whilst he was washing.

It was The Sydney Spell, which seemed to be the Australian equivalent of The Daily Prophet.

“CROOKED KRUM SEIZED AS MATCH-FIXING SCANDAL ROCKS THE QUIDDITCH WORLD!” read the headline, which was accompanied by an animated picture of Viktor Krum catching the snitch in the World Cup final they’d seen live all those years ago, before the Death Eaters had wreaked havoc on the camp-site.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed.

“My thoughts exactly,” Hermione added in a glum tone. “You’re obviously a lot more clued up on the nuances of a Quidditch match than I am…” she added, as Ron reflected on whether this was the first time she had ever admitted that he was more clued up on something.

“You watched that match… do you really think it’s possible that it was fixed?” she asked.

“Well… I dunno,” he began, as he thought back to it. “I mean, it was a little odd that he caught the snitch in a losing position, but it does happen… it’s a very fast-paced sport so he could well have missed something or thought the score was closer than it actually was… and… well, Quidditch players aren’t exactly renowned for being the most intelligent of people -

“You know full well that Viktor is not stupid!” she hissed slightly.

“Well… no,” he conceded. “But if I remember rightly both Krum and Lynch spotted the snitch at the same time, so if Krum hadn’t have caught it when he did then they would’ve still lost anyway, just by an even bigger margin.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought,” Hermione replied, deep in contemplation. “Although Krum was, or rather, still is considered one of, if not the greatest seeker of his generation, is he not?”

Ron felt a slight flush of jealously at hearing her talk about Krum with such high regard.

“Well… I mean, some would argue that to be considered the greatest seeker of a generation you would have to win a World Cup, which Krum has never-

“If not the greatest, then one of the greatest then?” she sternly replied.

“Yes, one of the greatest, of course,” he quickly conceded.

“Then wouldn’t one of the greatest seekers of his generation always be aware of what the current score was? And wouldn’t one of the greatest seekers of his generation do everything that was physically possible to avoid catching the snitch until he was absolutely sure it would win his country the World Cup?” she asked rhetorically, perhaps now questioning herself more than Ron.

“I… I suppose-

“Think back to our 3rd year… the final game of the season against Slytherin, when Harry caught the snitch to win the House Cup,” she said, once more deep in thought.

“Oh yeah – that was brilliant!” Ron exclaimed, as he remembered the moment Harry had captured the little golden-snitch with both hands off of his broom.

“Think harder!” Hermione urged. “You remember, don’t you? Gryffindor had to win the game by at least 210 points, otherwise Slytherin would have still won the Cup on point’s difference.”

“Yeah… yeah I do remember, of course,” Ron said, as he thought he began to grasp what she was getting at.

“Wood drilled it into Harry for ages… whatever you do, Harry, do not catch the snitch whilst it is mathematically impossible for Gryffindor to win the Cup. You do remember that, yes?” she demanded.

“Yes… yes of course I remember. So what are you saying then? You actually think that this stuff about Krum is true? That he really did agree to throw the final?” he asked, slightly bewildered at what she seemed to be insinuating.

“No. Of course not!” Hermione snapped back.

Ron was completely lost now.

“But I thought you were saying-

“I don’t think for one moment that Viktor agreed to throw the match. His professional pride, desire to win and love for his country would prevent him from doing that,” she said solemnly. “However, I do think there’s a very good chance that it was fixed and that somebody may have been controlling him... but who… how… and to what end?”

Australia Magizoo really was quite something.

Their day had begun with an extremely filling breakfast that could’ve possibly put even Hogwarts to shame, as Ron loaded up on copious amounts of poached eggs, bacon and sausages.

Hermione had settled for a few freshly made French pastries and a slice of toast with something called Vegemite spread onto it. Ron was not sure what exactly Vegemite was, but it had an awful smell to it and did not look up to too much cop either – his girlfriend reassuring him that it was just a type of yeast extract did not particularly sell it either. It looked like it had been scooped out of the bottom of a cup in one of Professor Trelawney’s tea-reading classes.

Following their stomachs being filled by their respective breakfasts, they had spent nearly the entire day exploring the gigantic grounds of Woollahra’s wizarding tourist attraction – and Ron could see why it was such an attraction.

The park was filled with almost every creature that you could possibly name, with a large section even being dedicated to housing non-magical creatures of interest too - such as lions, giraffes and even wild polar bears in a sub-zero arctic section!

A lot of the magizoo’s star attractions were dedicated to beasts that Ron and Hermione had been fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to encounter before. He had never really considered how lucky they’d actually been over the last seven years, at least in terms of seeing such a wide array of creatures.

Children and adults alike were crowding round for a glimpse of a phoenix in the flesh, which Ron shrugged off as nothing too exciting, as he’d seen Dumbledore’s one countless times before in their former headmaster’s office– and he’d even been flown out of the Chamber of Secrets by it in second year.

They balked at a massive queue that had formed for rides on the thestrals, with many lucky adults and children very excited at the prospect of riding on a beast that was invisible to them. Hermione read on a sign that outside of Britain the wild populations of thestrals were dwindling quite a lot, so for many non-Brits this would be their first and possibly only chance to ever see, or indeed, not see a thestral, which any British student would obviously just take for granted - they were even used as a mode of transport at Hogwarts!

If they had thought that the queue for the thestrals was large then that paled in comparison to the one for the hippogriffs, as everyone longed to receive a bow from one of the delightful, but deadly part-horse, part-eagle creatures. They did not linger there too long, as again, unlike much of the world’s population they had also had their fair share of experiences with hippogriffs.

The next portion of the park following the hippogriffs was dedicated to the world’s deadliest beasts – and after Ron hastily hurried Hermione away from the acromantulas, they spent a while looking at the magnificent Antipodean Opaleye dragon. The purple dragon was a New Zealand-native and as such, one of the more locally sourced creatures in the entire magizoo, although they soon noticed that the next part of the tour was actually dedicated entirely to the magical creatures of Australia.

At first they were introduced to the bunyips which were based in a large swamp. They were peculiar creatures, with big tusks, flippers for feet and large bushy tails. A sign near them spoke of how over the years there had been several infamous incidents where rogue bunyips had got loose and attacked muggles, with the beasts coming out at night in the cover of darkness to attack small children, women or defenceless household pets.

One of the world’s last living muldjewangk was housed in a lake not far from the bunyips. The muldjewangk, who did not surface whilst they were at the lake, were described as kind of like a cross between giant squid and merpeople.

It was said that in centuries gone by hordes of muldjewangk terrorised muggle fisherman all over the Indian Ocean, but in the last hundred years they had become an endangered species thanks partially to pollution in muggle waters, but mostly due to wizarding-poachers hunting them for their teeth and blood, with both apparently fetching a pretty penny due to their rarity and variety of uses.

It was just as they were walking away from the lake, somewhat disappointed at not glimpsing a sight of the muldjewangk, that they bumped into Tezza, who was the porter that had taken their bags upon arrival and asked about You Know Who’s nose. It seemed that Tezza performed an array of roles at the hotel, one of which also seemingly involved working with the creatures themselves.

“Alright guys?!” he chirped excitedly when he spotted them, as they said hello and made some small talk.

“Didn’t get to see the muldjewangk? Don’t be too down guys, they don’t like coming out during the day much anyways. The kids here are always devo at missing out like, but let me show you some little buggers that I think you’ll both be stoked on seeing.”

They followed Tezza over to some large gum trees, which had magical protections placed just in-front of them, indicating how dangerous whatever beasts they housed must be.

“Now these little ones might look cute, but trust me, they’re fierce little bastards especially if they’re after a bit of grub,” he said, as he pointed to what looked like a tiny little bear climbing the tree nearest to them.

“Isn’t that a koala bear?” a confused Hermione asked, as Tezza burst out laughing.

“They might look like koalas, but take a look for yourself,” Tezza said, before waving his wand and erecting a human-like mannequin on the ground about 10 metres directly below the creature. It noticed and after a brief second of contemplation it instantly threw itself down through the sky, claws first, soon landing on the head of the mannequin, tearing it apart with both its paws and teeth.

“Bloody hell!” Ron swore.

“You can say that again, mate!” Tezza replied. “That little bugger is called a drop bear and well… it lives up to its name,” he added, as the little beast tore furiously at the prop, before Tezza conjured it up a few dead rats for it to feast on instead as a treat for its part in the show.

“Do they mind being here… at the magizoo… with all these people ogling at them?” Hermione asked Tezza.

“The drop bears?”

Ron felt a little awkward as he guessed the train of thought and line of questioning that his girlfriend would have for Tezza.

“Yes, the drop bears, but, well, all of the creatures and beasts you house here really. Do they like it here… rather than being in the wild?”

“To tell you the truth Miss Granger,” Tezza said, as he paused for a brief moment before continuing. ”For most of them now there ain’t no wild no more anyway... what with all the poachers like, and it ain’t as easy as it was years ago keeping ‘em away from exposure to muggoes neither. It’s the same way most the muggo animals are going too. Woollahra’s the best place for ‘em I say.”

Hermione seemed content enough with Tezza’s response, although Tezza was hardly going to turn round and admit the creatures all hated it there if they did anyway.

The magizoo worker began guiding them away from the drop bear enclosure and further along to a stretch of grassland in the distance.

“Course, we don’t house any beasts that are sentient,” Tezza continued, as Hermione nodded along in approval. “You won’t find no centaurs, vampires or werewolves here… ‘tho all the guests would be clamouring to see ‘em if they were, as you can imagine, like.

Fancy that ehh? Seeing an actual centaur or werewolf in the flesh, now that would be proper gnarly!”

Ron was once more left feeling a bit spoilt by his education.

He couldn’t quite believe that Tezza had never seen a werewolf or centaur in the flesh, at Hogwarts they’d had a werewolf and a centaur among the faculty at varying intervals of his stint at school.

“What about house elves?” Ron asked nervously, as he stole a quick glance at Hermione, who looked even more interested in Tezza’s response to the latest question posed to him, as they walked past a giant, yellow warning sign that read:

“CAUTION: YOU ARE NOW APPROACHING THE YARA-MA-YHA-WHO ENCLOSURE. THIS BEAST IS EXTREMELY DANGEROUS! DO NOT ENGAGE IT IF IT ESCAPES! CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF 15 MUST BE ACCOMPANIED BY A RESPONSIBLE PARENT OR GUARDIAN!”

“You certainly won’t find no house-elves here!” Tezza said in a slightly bemused tone. “Not working for us anyway… course we get lots of rich families from America, India and France come and visit who bring theirs along for the trip… ya’ kno’, funny thing is I’d never even seen one in the flesh before I started working here myself!”

“Why is that?” Hermione asked. “Are house-elves against the law in Australia?” she added, with a hopeful tone in her voice.

Tezza audibly chuckled.

“Against the law? We’d have to bloody have some for ‘em to be illegal! Never really caught on down here since nobody could bloody afford one. I’m sure whoever cooked up the idea for this place could have their pick of them now though, like, you know I-

“WHAT’S THAT?!” Ron burst out, as Hermione instinctively grabbed his hand, as she too saw a giant bear-like creature waddling towards them.

It was just their luck.

The one time they visit the magizoo was the time that the extremely dangerous creature broke out.

Why was it always them?!

At least Tezza would know what to do.

He didn’t look in the slightest bit afraid, which reassured Ron that he must know how to handle the very dangerous looking beast heading towards them.

“What’s what?” a bemused looking Ted asked them, as Hermione and Ron both drew their wands, which confused him even more.

“Over there!” Hermione gasped, as she pointed over to the furry giant which was getting closer to them, albeit at a fairly slow pace.

“HA-HA! You can’t mean… oh you think that silly bugger is the dangerous beast that sign was warning yous about?” he asked with a patronising look on his tanned face, as Ron nodded awkwardly.

“HA-HA! You wait until all of the lads hear about this one!” he blurted out, with a furious grin washed across his face. “Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger frightened off their rocker by a silly old yowie! COME HERE YA BIG WALKING CARPET!” Tezza shouted, as the yowie responded to his call and quickened his pace, although only slightly.

“They’re clever creatures, yowie’s, but they’re bloody pussies. Wouldn’t hurt a mozza, even if it was biting on one of their balls!” Tezza joked, as he stretched his arms out for the yowie to give him a hug.

The yowie towered over him, it must’ve been at least seven foot, but he showed no fear when it barked softly and wrapped its furry arms right round his thin-frame, almost lifting him off of the ground with enthusiasm as it hugged him.

“We call him Chewy,” Tezza said excitedly, as the yowie released him. “You know, like the wookie from Star Wars.”

“What’s Star Wars?” Ron asked blankly.

“Only one of the greatest bloody movies of all time, mate!” Tezza replied indignantly.

“I’ve never watched any movies,” Ron responded.

“You ain’t ever seen a single movie in ya’ life?”

Tezza looked in a state of shock, perhaps he was a half-blood or a muggle-born and had grown up with the muggle television.

Ron shook his head in response.

“Blimey. Where did you find this guy?!” Tezza quizzed Hermione.

“It’s kind of a long story,” she replied, before smirking a little at both Tezza and then Ron himself.

“Now you run along now Chewy,” Tezza ordered to the yowie. “Shouldn’t be out here near the yara-ma-yha-who anyway you daft git,” he added, as he poked his bear-like companion. The yowie obeyed, sauntering off in the opposite direction after uttering what sounded like it could only be a laugh at Tezza.

“Oh my goodness,” Hermione mouthed, seemingly noticing something in the distance. “Is that… is that…

“Too right-o, Miss Granger,” Tezza replied. “That is a yara-ma-yha who.”

Ron saw it out of the corner of his eye, rested on a similar tree to the one that the drop bear had been grasping to before it flew out of the sky.

The yara-ma-yha-who was a slightly slimy, amphibious looking red creature that can’t have been much bigger than the average goblin.

Its dark blood-red body resembled a frightening cross between a frog, an octopus and a common garden gnome.

It was truly hideous.

It hung to the tree by its tiny red hands, but it also had thin, slippery suckers on the rear of its body which it used to swing around the tree too, almost like a monkey would do with its tail.

“That little bugger is damn-near the most deadly beast in this entire magizoo. If I had to face the dragon or that thing without a wand – I’d choose the dragon every bloody time… you wanna kno’ why?” Tezza asked, pausing slightly for effect.

Ron suspected that he would tell them the answer whether they wanted to hear it or not, but nonetheless he humoured Tezza all the same.

“Alrite, I’ll tell you why… you run into a hungry dragon on a bad day, it’ll smoke you alrite… but dragons don’t play with their food… a dragon will roast ya’ long before it thinks about eating ya’ to stop ya’ from runnin’ away… but these things… mate… ya kno’ what these things do to ya? It uses those suckers to drain you of your blood, but not enough to kill ya’… na’, it takes just enuff to weaken ya’ and keep ya’ within its grasp… then it will swallow ya’ whole… they can swallow up to four time their body weight… but that’s not the last of it, oh na’, wouldn’t be so bad if it was, like, but that’s only the start of it… ya’ see once it falls asleep it pumps oxygen right through the victim’s brain and airwaves… acts kinda like an oxygen tank in there… to try and keep ya alive… then as it gradually comes out of its slumber it slowly regurgitates ya’… then… when it wakes up… it starts the process all over again. They can sometimes keep their prey alive for over four days before finally killing it for good.”

Hermione said nothing, but she had a look of utter disgust and horror on her face.

“And has one of those…things… ever actually escaped?” Ron managed to muster.

“Oh Christ no!” Tezza jibed. “They’d probably shut the whole place down if one of those got out and killed a poor little ankle biter or somethin’. Can you imagine the bad press we’d-

“ATTENTION ALL STATIONS!”

A loud, slightly muffled booming voice came out from what looked like a small, portable muggle radio on Tezza’s belt.

“WHO WAS THE LAST OF YOUS TO HAVE SEEN OUR BRITISH VISITORS? I REPEAT, WHO WAS THE LAST OF YOUS TO HAVE SEEN OUR BRITISH VISITORS? OVER!”

Tezza smiled slightly.

“Funny you should ask that, Zoe,” he said into the radio. “I’m with ‘em right now. Over.”

“Is that you Terrence? Over.”

“Sure as hell is, Zoe, you see-

“What’s your nearest assembly point? Over.”

“Well… we’re just by the old Yara-ma-yha-who enclosure… so I’d say…erm… ah ya! The Great Barrier Reef café. Over.”

“That’s great. Head over with them now… I’ll meet you there in ten minutes. Over.”

“No worries, Zoe, mate. I’ll bring ‘em right down. Over,” he said into the radio, as he started heading east, then motioned with his hand for them to follow him.

The Great Barrier Reef café turned out to be a massive muggle-style aquarium, with a sizeable restaurant in the back serving up mostly seafood-based cuisine. The aquarium hosted mostly exotic fish found in the seas of Sydney, but there were also other creatures like sharks and turtles housed there too.

Tezza stayed with them in a waiting area of the main reception, which housed a large open-tank filled with different types of rays, which people, mostly children, were able to reach in and feed if they so pleased.

Whoever had designed the hotel had really gone all in on the muggle-theme, as this particular section even had a large boxed television raised up high on the wall, with some kind of muggle wildlife program playing.

“That man on the television. Is he a muggle?” Hermione asked, as the blonde, burly man in a khaki outfit stalked a large crocodile whilst he talked to the camera.

“Who? Steve Irwin?! He’s only one of the most famous muggoes in all of Australia! Surprised you ain’t heard of him,” he replied.

“But how… but how is he able to avoid being killed by that crocodile? If he’s not a wizard?” Ron quizzed, as he too began watching on at the TV in surprise.

“Beats me, mate. But he ain’t in no danger – those crocco’s love him,” Tezza said with a wry smile on his face, as he placed his left hand into the water and reached down. “Why… Steve-o up there’s in no more danger with one of those crocs than I am with this little sting-ray,” he added, as he caressed one of the floating flat creatures with his fingers.

“AH YA CUNT!!!!” Tezza blurted out, splashing water everywhere as he quickly removed his hand from the tank.

“The little bastard stung me!” he exclaimed in outrage.

“Hermione Granger? Ron Weasley?”

Ron saw a middle-aged lady with heavily tanned skin and thick dark hair, who he guessed had been the female voice from the muggle radio. She was well dressed, with a face full of perfectly applied make-up and the fixed-forced smile of someone who had probably been working in customer-facing roles for a long time.

“That’s us,” Hermione responded eagerly, with a distant sound of hope in her voice.

“I’m Zoe Federici. Head of Guest Relations here at the hotel,” Federici said, just before shaking both of their hands. “The Ministry have sent us word that they have found your parents, Miss Granger,” she added, flashing a brief smile and her bright, white teeth in Hermione’s direction.

Ron heard an audible gasp of both relief and excitement from Hermione, as she grasped onto his hand very tightly.

“Given the circumstances they thought it best to err on the side of caution and have opted against using magic to transport them here. Their current working plan is for you to be re-introduced just after breakfast tomorrow morning… meet me in the main lobby reception just after 10AM... and in the mean-time, please, if there is anything I or any of my staff can do to improve your stay with us, all you have to do is ask.”

The good news that Federici had delivered to them earlier in the day had come as a pretty big relief to Ron, but it couldn’t compare to the relief that it had taken off of his girlfriend’s shoulders. In the hours that followed Hermione had finally allowed herself to properly enjoy the extravagant and exotic surroundings that they found themselves located in.

Their first act, on Zoe’s own suggestion, had been a trip to the beach bar in their section of the resort. The Guest Relations manager had insisted on pouring their first round of celebratory cocktails herself, which had presented a new dilemma for them, as neither of them had ordered an alcoholic cocktail before in their lives.

This did not act as a set-back for Federici, more-so, it actually put a genuinely excited smile on her face, as she whipped out a strange, leathery brown hat which had several corks attached to it with string.

“This isn’t just any old hat,” she had said. “This hat has been charmed to explore your mind, body and soul to work out the exact cocktail that you would most like at that given moment.”

They had each had a go at trying on the hat over two hours ago – and were both now pretty tipsy after consuming their fair share of cocktails at the bar. Hermione drinking the refreshing rum, lime and mint mojitos, with Ron knocking back the even sweeter pineapple and coconut concoctions called pina coladas.

Ron was now drinking his fourth, or maybe his fifth, as they relaxed on comfortable cushioned chairs back up at their balcony whilst watching the artificial sun-set. The synthetic weather was still warm enough that Ron sat with his top off, just wearing a pair of swim-shorts, whilst Hermione relaxed in a white swimsuit, which was nicely cut around her cleavage.

Ron was sure that Hermione had caught him on one of the few occasions that he had stolen a quick glance at her slightly protruding breasts – and to his surprise she had not told him off, instead she had said nothing, merely looking away hesitantly with a wry smile on her pretty face.

“You know… there was something Miss Burke said back at the Australian Ministry that I found a little… odd,” a tipsy Hermione said, as Ron looked over at her, pondering his reply as he tried to avoid staring at her cleavage.

“Did you know that Kingsley had a brother?” she said with a confused look on her face before he could think of anything to say in response. “She mentioned that back when they were at Hogwarts together Kingsley and his brother used to gloat to her about the Quidditch results.”

Ron did vaguely remember Olivia Burke making an offhand comment like that, but such was his mental and physical state following that horrific portkey journey that it had completely passed him by, not registering as particularly odd at the time – or if it had, that train of thought had swiftly departed the station of his mind just as soon as it had entered it.

“No… no I don’t think he’s ever mentioned having a brother before,” Ron responded, as he searched through his less than sober mind for any recollection of such a conversation.

“Don’t you agree that that’s a little bit odd?” Hermione offered, as she took a deep sip on her straw, twirling around the little mint leaves in her sugar-coated glass as she did so.

It was a little bit odd, Ron agreed, but that sort of thing wasn’t completely unheard of in the wizarding community.

“Perhaps a little, yes… but Mum never likes to talk about her brothers… maybe Kingsley’s brother was killed in the first war too.”

“That’s a good point,” Hermione said. “I hadn’t considered that… yes… yes, you may well be right.”

“Always the tone of surprise,” he teased sarcastically, as Hermione smiled a little, then let out a tipsy laugh.

“I do understand why she never talks about them,” Ron continued, suddenly steering the conversation to a more serious direction, perhaps partially due to the influence of the alcohol, as he noticed the expression on Hermione’s face turn from a smile to one of sympathy.

“Dad always said that a little part of her died the day she found out that they’d been killed… and I know it must have been really hard for her… but I do sometimes wish she would’ve talked about them more. Even just told us some funny family stories or something. It feels weird to even say their names out loud since nobody would ever talk about them…

Hermione reached over and placed her soft, warm hand on top of Ron’s, caressing his hand with her slim fingers as he kept talking.

“… I won’t ever let myself do that with Fred,” Ron added, trying to reassure himself more than Hermione.

“When we’re married and have children of our own I’ll tell them every funny story about Fred that I know and-

Ron stopped himself as he realised what he had just said.

Hermione had already started laughing.

“Wait- that’s not what I meant- I-

“When we’re married and have children of our own?” Hermione jibed, as she sarcastically raised her eyebrows.

“No- no- I meant- you know what I-

“I’m very interested to hear what you meant to say, Ronald,” Hermione said, still giggling at his mistake, as she stood up from her chair after finishing the last of her drink.

Ron clumsily pulled himself up from his chair so that they were standing face to face in the sunset.

“Well I just meant if… you know if-

Hermione kissed his lips before he had a chance to finish.

He felt her arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, pulling him in even closer, as he rested his own arms around the back of her slender waist.

“I don’t know how much you know about the human anatomy Ron,” she said softly, almost in a whisper, as she temporary broke away from the kiss. “But it seems a little premature for you to be thinking about getting me pregnant when we haven’t even… you know…”

Ron felt his heartrate rise rapidly.

He didn’t quite know what to say.

Her skin looked so soft and creamy.

His eyes fell on her cleavage once more and he noticed the outline of her two nipples and breasts against her white swimsuit.

His cock tingled slightly as he imagined what it would be like to have one of her breasts in his mouth.

“Why is it that we haven’t yet, do you think?” Hermione asked.

“I dunno… I mean-

“I suppose I have been awfully stressed about my parents… and I’m sure it has been awfully difficult for you too… we’ve been so caught up with everything we just haven’t really had time to think about it,” she concluded, as Ron nodded in agreement, even though it wasn’t the slightest bit true that he hadn’t had time to think about it.

“You do want to… you know… don’t you?” she whispered, with a look of doubt on her face.

“Yes!” he blurted out. “I mean… if… only if you want to,” he quickly added.

“You don’t think I look awfully stupid… in this swimsuit, I mean. You don’t think I look too-

“I think you look perfect,” Ron drunkenly pronounced, as he pulled her close and passionately kissed her lips. He heard her sigh softly as he ran his hands gently down her back, eventually resting them on her bottom.

Ron squeezed her bum cheeks firmly as her tongue aggressively fought its way into his mouth.

He lifted her up and stumbled slightly, before she straddled her legs around his waist as they continued lustfully kissing whilst he carried her into the bedroom, before thrusting her down onto the bed and pressing her down against the sheets as they continued their steamy embrace.

Ron broke away from kissing her lips and quickly worked his way across first to her right cheek, then further down the side of her face before he began amorously pecking her neck.

Hermione sighed softly, then began to press her nails across his back as he remembered the technique that Lavender had taught him during their brief fling in sixth year.

He opened his mouth as if to bite her neck, but instead he sucked strongly, causing his girlfriend to gasp with pleasure. Ron wondered if he would be the first person to give Hermione a love-bite, he hoped he was – and the jealous thought of Viktor Krum, or anyone else having done this to her only caused him to suck with a renewed sense of vigour.

Hermione scratched his back in delight as he felt his penis grow harder and harder, as he broke free of his sucking to begin snogging her again, tasting the rum, lime and mint on her tongue and breathe as he did so.

His train of thought briefly went back to Lavender Brown – and he quickly pushed the horrific sight of her dead, mutilated body out and away from his mind.

He pulled back from his embrace with Hermione and got up slightly, before untying the cords and taking off his shorts, leaving him fully naked and exposed in-front of her.

Ron’s cock stood firmly to attention and Hermione studied it with enough curiosity for him to feel reassured that his was the very first that she had seen in the flesh. The excitement of her studying his naked body like it was a brand-new book made him feel about as horny as he could ever remember feeling.

She followed his lead in getting undressed and smiled shyly at him, before sitting up and slowly taking off her white swimsuit and casting it aside, leaving only her glorious, bare-naked skin in its wake.

Her body was scattered with occasional freckles, much lighter and less noticeable than his own, but noticeable in their own way nonetheless. His dick stiffened up even more as he finally cast his eyes on her beautiful breasts and perky, pink nipples. She had a small mole on her left breast and just above her belly button – and upon seeing those little imperfections he had never felt more intimate and close to her.

He stared at her bare, naked body as she did the same to him, for all his sneaky glances at her breasts throughout the last hour or so, she was more than getting even now as she bashfully eyed up his cock.

Ron looked towards the middle of her legs and unlike her smoothly shaven sex in his dream that morning, her vagina was covered by small tufts of bushy, brown pubic hair.

They caught each other’s eye at the same time and hungrily embraced once more, lips against lips, tongue to tongue, as they began to explore each other’s body with their hands. Ron fondled her breasts firmly, as she reached out and got her first grasp of his erect cock.

He was surprised he didn’t cum there and then, but he relaxed himself as she begin gently pulling up and down on his penis as his right hand trickled down from her breast to her stomach, before he eventually reached the inside of her thighs and the tufts of her pubic hair.

Hermione moaned and swore under her breath as his fingers slowly glided their way through the hairs and reached her glistening clitoris and he began to softly rub it, as Lavender had once taught him.

At the time of their break-up Ron had harboured a slight tinge of regret that they had only ever gone as far as to fondle around with each other, but in hindsight he had absolutely no regrets considering that he was about to lose his virginity with the girl that he had loved for several years now.

The sight of Lavender’s dead corpse once again entered his mind though - and for a brief moment all sense of arousal was lost.

“Don’t stop,” Hermione whispered gently – and he was soon just as horny as he was before when she increased the speed and force of her grip on his cock.

He continued to press his fingers against her, feeling her wetness increase with each stroke, causing her to dampen her pubic hairs and cover his index and middle fingers with the fruits of his labour.

“I think I’m ready,” she softly gasped, as she reluctantly relented her grip of his cock and lay back, opening her legs even further.

He stared down at his beautiful naked girlfriend, her dark brown eyes gazing down at him with a look of both excitement and slight nervousness on her face.

Ron remembered that he hadn’t yet uttered the contraceptive spell and quickly grabbed his wand from the bedside table, muttering the spell he had first seen written on a desk in one of the Herbology greenhouses in 3rd year.

A feint and very quickly invisible trail of white smoke brushed against, then evaporated onto his penis, as he held onto Hermione’s thighs and then slowly but surely entered her tight, wet cunt.

Hermione gasped heavily, with what seemed like a mixture of pleasure and pain.

So this was it.

This was what it felt like.

The sight of Lavender’s corpse once again entered his horrified mind as he came to terms with the fact that he was finally inside of Hermione and had lost his virginity.

He reached out and held one of his girlfriend’s hands, softly pulling his penis slightly out and then back inside of her again.

Now he saw Remus, Tonks and finally Fred’s lifeless body laid out in the great hall.

Ron tried to get the horrible, graphic images out of his head but they just wouldn’t budge.

He slowed his rhythm almost to a halt entirely - and felt the blood and the excitement of his arousal slowly shift away from his penis.

His eyes opened slightly and Hermione shot him a curious, concerned look.

“Are you alright?” she murmured.

Lavender – dead.

Remus – dead.

Sirius – dead.

“Ronald?”

Mad Eye – dead.

Tonks – dead.

Dobby – dead.

Dumbledore – dead.

Fred… Fred… dead.

“They’re all gone,” he mumbled, as he felt the hot tears began to form in his eyelids.

“They’re all dead.”

The tears began to slowly run down his face, before he quickly began blubbing his eyes out.

Hermione held him tight for a while, as he buried his face into her bosom and then slowly cried himself to sleep.

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knifenymph · 4 years

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your presence feels so natural and effortless, i love it 🌼💕 is being bright and cheerful something that comes easily for you? did you have to work at it?

🥺thank u so much sweet angel.....

its definitely something that i had to work at for a good bit of time. unlearning my bitterness and meanness and anger and all the conditioning that i had that told me that being loving was a weakness. i first had to dedicate myself to learning to love myself and be gentle with myself, and i was able to do that by surrounding myself with people who wanted to support and care for me and distance myself from people who didnt. over the past couple of years ive been exploring myself and personality to find my most authentic self, and now that ive found her, i shine brighter than i ever have before 💗

being loving and kind now comes naturally to me because it Is natural. its become my normal. of course i still have not nice thoughts because im human, but i try my best to address them, analyze them, n figure out the root of it so i can redirect that thought pattern. everything will begin to flourish for you when you align yourself with love 💗

#and i genuinely mean that #like now i am just so much kinder and its not a facade at all and things just ... bloom for me!#so many opportunities come your way when youre kind because people Want to be around you #and Want to get to know you #like literally ! all i do is exist on this blog n i receive so many nice n kind asks #its so wild to me tbh!#op #chatter #asks

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otterplusharchive · 4 years

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good morning everyone i hope youre all safe and doing okay today, please be gentle with yourselves and take it easy today. i love you all and i hope youre all going to have nice days full of love and peace. there can still be good things ahead of us in the future even if things are difficult right now. you deserve happiness and youre always worthy of love and good things in life.

today ive had to wake up early to go with my parents to a family event which im really not looking forward to since being around my parents is already horrible for me. but im trying my best none the less and im thinking about the future when ill be able to create a home for myself away from abuse and manipulation.

even when it seems impossible things can still get better and we can have a better future, we still can get out of whatever bad situation we may be in and we can get to a better healthier place in life. theres still time for us to figure things out and to get to where we want to be.

no one ever has any right to mistreat you, hurt you, or abuse you. you never deserve to be hurt and how youve been hurt isnt your fault. you arent to blame for your trauma or abuse. you always deserve to be treated with love and kindness, you deserve to be in a healthy and safe environment surrounded by people who treat you well.

i hope youre all going to have a wonderful day, please remember that youre doing enough each day by being here and being alive and youre always loved. if you need anything im here

#abuse mention #long post

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kumeko · 4 years

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Title: the act of living

A/N: For lynndyre, for a lotr exchange! I’m not happy about the first two pieces in this fic, but I think the rest came out decently enough. :/ I really liked the prompt of post-canon, of what comes after, and making it bitter but also hopeful.

…

i. Gondor

Despite all the damage to it, Gondor stood strong. It had always done so; years of facing enemy after enemy had weathered it into a resilient place, capable of shaking off injury and keeping a united front. Its people were even more so, their faces as sturdy as the stone that made the city.

This was a comforting thought when directed at their enemies. Less so when it was directed at himself. There were many ways Aragorn thought the people of Gondor would treat him but even the cool indifference of a stranger would have been preferred to the harsh front to an intruder. It was even more apparent when Aragorn rode through the streets, surveying the damage with Faramir and Pippin. As their horses trotted slowly down the winding streets, as they catalogued the various repairs they had to make, Aragorn could feel his people’s eyes on him. For the most part, their gaze was hard, their lips thin, jaw set. The occasional citizen would give him a tentative smile and wave, but the overwhelming feeling was this:

Who are you to rule us?

A fair question, perhaps. It wasn’t like he’d grown up here, it wasn’t like they were expecting the king to return. It wasn’t fair to just push him forward as a king in the middle of a war and expect everything to be fine after. Not that Aragorn was sure what he was expecting; he had never wanted this position in the first place.

“It’s not that bad,” Pippin chirped. Seated in front of Aragorn, he glanced up at him. For a moment, Aragorn thought the hobbit had read his mind. “It’ll take a little muscle and spit, but we’ll clean it all up.”

Ah, that made more sense. His friend had thought his dark mood was over the destruction. However clumsy it was, Aragorn was grateful for Pippin’s kindness and he smiled. “Certainly.”

“The people of Gondor are not one to back away from a challenge,” Faramir said from his right. He sat straight on his horse and while there was still something ghostly about him, he looked proud. “We have weathered attacks before. This will be no different.”

“Really?” Pippin furrowed his brows, disbelief on his face. “You guys have fought orcs and wraiths and all of that?”

“Well, perhaps nothing that bad,” Faramir admitted with a chuckle.

“Thought so.” Pippin snorted derisively. “No way anyone can just rebuild after all that.” He gestured at a pile of rubble nearby, soldiers and local citizens creating a chain as they shifted giant rocks to a wooden cart. “Not without a lot of help.”

“Fortunately the elves are assisting,” Faramir answered, glancing at Aragorn with a wry smile. “They said to consider it a wedding present of sorts.”

Aragorn’s eyes widened slightly. “Arwen.” He glanced at the clean up crew once more. Now that he was paying attention, he could see the odd elf in the group, examining the debris and finding the right rock to move next. The folk regarded the elves warily but begrudging accepted the assistance. “How long have they been here?”

“Over a week.” Faramir smiled wryly. “It was a little odd at first but the people have come around to it now.”

“Have they?” Aragorn glanced at Pippin and thought of Boromir. Of Legolas and Gimli. The oddest of companions that were now the closest of friends. There were things that you could only learn by working next to someone, to watching them toil away with you. He tightened his grip on his reins, pulling his horse to a stop.

“Huh?” Pippin thudded against his chest at the sudden stop. Bemused, he stared up. “See something?”

“More of a realization.” Aragorn slipped off his mount. “I’ll go help out.”

He was never the sort to watch from a distance anyways. Aragorn had gotten this far through hard work. This kingship would be no different.

ii. Rohan

“Wow.” Merry stared at the garlands strung up around the Meduseld, his eyes wide with wonder.

“Unexpected, isn’t it?” Eowyn chuckled, amused by her companion’s amazement. To be perfectly honest, she had looked the same earlier. It had been too long since flowers lined the halls of her forefathers, since the cold grey had been washed over with warmth of a blaze and good company. The trifecta of loss, a poisonous influence, and war had left her home less than it ought to have been.

Now, finally, it was returned to its former glory.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you guys even had flowers,” Merry chirped, examining a wreath on the wall. There was a long silence and then his ears burned a bright red as he realized what he’d said. Turning around, fidgeted nervously. “Not that that’s a bad thing—it looked very noble before—we just have a lot of flowers—”

Eowyn laughed, cutting him off as he cycled through excuses. “No, no, it is understandable. We haven’t had flowers in here for a long time.”

“Oh.” Feeling relieved, Merry smoothened down his shirt with a pleased smile. “It looks good.”

“We’re celebrating our harvest and the end of the war, so I thought we could brighten the place.” Eowyn gestured at the torches that lit up every few metres, ensuring that no darkness pervaded her home. It felt a lot more like it did when she was younger, when her brother used to chase her through these halls and her uncle…

She paused at the thought. He would have liked how it looked, praised her with his gentle smile and kind words.

Eowyn wished she could have seen it. That he could have seen this. Loss, she found, sprung up in the most unexpected of places and every time it took her breath away.

Unaware of her shifting emotions, Merry replied, “So this isn’t everyday? We have flowers everywhere at home, so it’s strange to find places without it.”

He was smiling up at her, bright and unassuming, and Eowyn shook herself out of her thoughts. Her uncle wouldn’t want her to linger, the way he had lingered over her cousin’s death. The best way to honour him was to keep moving forward. Looking down, Eowyn asked “Is that so? I have never seen that many flowers.”

“Well, not everywhere everywhere—definitely not on the toilets cause that’s weird but everywhere else.” Merry stroked his chin thoughtfully. “And maybe not on the paths. The proper ones, that is—the ones that we aren’t supposed to take are chock full of weeds.”

“The ones that get you in trouble?” Eowyn teased, having heard plenty of stories about angry farmers and vegetables.

“It’s only trouble if you get caught!” Merry retorted, crossing his arms. “And I almost never get caught.”

“Hmm, I wonder about that.” Eowyn chuckled. Every description Merry gave of his homeland gave a warm impression. It sounded like place that would produce such wonderful hobbits, such wonderful heroes. “Perhaps I should see for myself?”

Even Farmer Maggot sounded fun to meet. Especially since she wouldn’t be robbing him.

iii. Mirkwood

“I did not expect you to come all the way here,” Thrandruil drawled, each word carefully articulated as though each one was a jab from one of his guard’s spears. Walking through a well-maintained path in Mirkwood, his gaze was ever upward, giving one the impression he was barely paying attention to his companion.

Celeborn knew better than to fall for that. Thrandruil was always alert to his surroundings, however he might act, and it would take one wrong word, one false step to be barred from returning to the forest elves’ realm. “I heard the forest had cleared and thought it was a good time to visit.”

That wasn’t a lie—the forest was brighter than it had been in centuries. The spiders were finished, their webs burned through, and starlight once more graced the elves as they frolicked in the night. Mirkwood was beautiful again.

“It has,” Thranduil admitted with a regal nod of his head. His brow furrowed and scornfully he added, “Though it is the age of man, so who knows how long this shall last.”

“So many elves have departed these days,” Celeborn sighed. “Lothlórien feels emptier these days, as does Rivendell.”

“As expected. They were never tied to the land like we are,” Thrandruil spit out, contemptuous. “I am only surprised they didn’t leave earlier.”

He should have expected that remark. Despite the time that had passed, Thrandruil’s pride was infamous and it seemed nothing could change that. “You aren’t going to answer the call?”

“One day, maybe.” Thrandriul shrugged dismissively. “Perhaps when my son is tired of playing with dwarves and the sea. Until then, this is my kingdom and I will not abandon it while it still stands.”

“As expected.” Celeborn chuckled. “Galadriel is also considering leaving.”

“And you?” Thrandruil looked at him now, his brow raised curiously. “What will you do?”

“I will join her.” Celeborn clasped his hands behind him, looking up at the starlight through the trees. It glinted off nearby goblets and here still the sound laughter and life existed. “But not for some time. Lothlórien has lost its shine and diminished. Rivendell is a tomb.” He glanced at Thrandruil. “Is there room for another here?”

Thrandruil smiled.

iv. Rivendell

“You look worn, old friend.” Elrond didn’t look up as Gandalf stood next to him. Despite the physical changes underwent, his voice remained ever the same, as did the comfort in his presence. “What troubles you?”

“Things that are beyond my control.” Elrond sighed. Standing on a terrace, he watched from a distance as his daughter read a book on a bench. How much longer would he be able to witness that sight? How much longer could he just simply open his mouth and call her?

“Ah.” Gandalf studied her for a long moment before shaking his head. “You made your choice long ago. And though you do not want to admit it, so had she.”

“I should have realized it the moment they met.” Elrond frowned, closing his eyes. “I had hoped otherwise. Her path will be a painful one, a long one, and there will be no one to comfort her in the end.”

“You are not staying then?” Gandalf asked, his brow raised.

“No, I do not think I can bear to see her hair grow white. And I do not want my sons to change their mind because of their love for the Dúnedain. Besides, already the world is changing.” Elrond smiled wistfully. “There is no room for our kind anymore. It is better to accept it and leave now.” Before their images of the world was tarnished, before he could see the old places wrought with ruin. He had seen what man made, what man could do, and while there were great creations, there were more often than not ruinous. Only the dwarves could match them for greed.

“Then fret not.” Gandalf squeezed his shoulder. “There are others here to comfort her. Thrandruil—” Elrond snorted. “—I know you do not like him, but he and Celeborn will still be here when her time comes. She will not go alone, forgotten and unloved.”

Elrond glanced at Gandalf. “And you?”

“Perhaps.” Gandalf only smiled mysteriously. “I cannot say where I will be or not in the years to come.”

“Father!” Before Elrond could question him further, Arwen waved to him, a smile on her face.

There would be plenty of time to interrogate a dodgy wizard in the future. For now, he wanted to soak in every moment with Arwen he could. There would be so few of them and his years too long after.

v. Shire

It was strange how empty the Baggins�� home was. Samwise had taken care of it for years and had helped his father for it even longer. It had been customary to find white-haired Bilbo in the gardens, writing the next page of his manuscript. Or Frodo puttering about, laughing about the latest prank Merry and Pippin had pulled.

Now the gardens ran wild, left unattended during their mission. That was something Sam could fix. Something he would fix.

Something he couldn’t do anything about was how silent the rooms inside were. No fire crackled in the hearth, inviting one to rest their feet and stay a spell. There was no welcoming greeting when the door opened, no soft swear from trying to open a too tight jar of walnuts. Just complete and utter silence.

Sam stood at the foyer, not sure if he should go further in or not. It had been one thing when Frodo had left him the key to the place, another thing entirely to use it. He could just sell it but Frodo’s history, his own history was too deeply tied to it.

What to do?

Sam took a deep breath. The air smelled musty from disuse. Frodo wasn’t here anymore. He was across the sea with the elves. A place Sam could go, if he wanted to. Another decision he wasn’t ready to make. Pulling out the key, he quickly slipped out of the hole and locked it behind him.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d figure out what he wanted to do with this place. To do with himself.

Today Rosie was at the pub and Merry and Pippin would be back from their travels and he could just soak in the act of living.

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niallisherelove · 4 years

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3 years of loving (1) man.

I love this man. But, that isn’t even enough to say. I feel like the word “love” for him isn’t even close to what I feel. If Niall wasn’t in my life, I would feel completely empty. My heart would not get the joy, that I get from him anywhere else. Niall James Horan isn’t just a funny, good looking celebrity to me. He is my safe zone, and writing this post I can’t even find words. There really isn’t anything I can say besides he has captured me like no one else has. He makes me feel happy, he makes me laugh, smile, cry, scream, shout, and get so excited that I can’t breathe. Makes me tear up, without even trying. And, I can’t really tell you why. But, I can tell you exactly why I love him. Let me just start by saying, he spent his birthday at Rays of Sunshine. A place for kids and charity. He sat there and sang, and laughed with his fans. Not only that but he has an organization right now going to two very important causes. No one asked him to do that, he did it all himself. His groove and passion for life inspires me beyond compare. That man has gotten me through some of the toughest moments, in my life. He is honestly the sweetest person on planet earth. Niall is so kind and light hearted. He always and I always say this puts himself last, and would do anything to show the ones that love him, that he loves them back. But not just loves them back. He loves them even harder then they love him. His voice touches me in ways I didn’t even know were possible. How do I even describe how much I love him? My happiness would not look real without him. He works so incredibly hard, and he deserves everything he has and more. I honestly just get speechless trying to express how much I love him, because no one will ever understand. I know that one of the best days of my life will be when I’m in his arms and I tell him how much of an amazing human he is. I know when I actually feel him in my arms, and know that he’s real it will be a feeling that I can’t even describe. He isn’t a person I can go to in my day to day life. He is so MUCH more. Incredibly more, he is someone I can look at and instantly feel better, someone I can hear and feel like nothing else matters except him. Okay, I can’t start this post. My fingers are gonna be broke after this. Niall James Horan really just hits the spot for me. Before I explain why I love him with my whole heart, and why he is truly the one and only true love of my life, I need y’all to know I mean every word I am saying. Niall always cheers me up when I’m down like no one ever could. I started loving him when I was 11 or 12 and now I am 17. His album that he put out is just pure beauty and art and he needs to know that. He opened his heart out to all of the people who love him and he wasn’t scared to see what they thought. I’ve never heard anyone open up like he did, ever. I am speechless. I really am. Every single time he gets on that stage he owns it and he makes sure everyone is having the time of their life. He really means EVERYTHING TO me. I really would not have the joy and satisfaction and smile I have for life without him, none of it. He really just deserves the absolute freaking best. He always works his best and puts out his best and that’s what he deserves. No one will ever know how much this man truly means to me. His joy for life and his care free attitude and his heart that shines out the most to me. He really started with nothing and he did this all by himself, he made himself the artist he is today. And everyday that goes by I think of him. Not one day passes without thinking of him. He loves all of us so much and shows us that every single day. He really made me love myself as a person and I’m just realizing that now. He brings out the best of me and my happiness. This may all sound so cheesy but this bub continues to make me so happy. The lyrics he writes are so pure and it’s like he knows what the fans want to hear. He’s sold billons off copies and I’m just so so proud of him. I feel such at home at any 1D show or his show, it’s crazy. He really is just the sweetest person and I want to repeat it 5000000 times. There’s so many people who love him and that’s all he deserves. So much love and happiness. He is so kind, funny, sweet, handsome... etc ... Basically you could say he has one of those perfect souls. I wake up everyday and think of him and smile because of him. 😭💓 TALENT . I wasn’t even done I just want him to realize how special he is. I wish I could just go up to him and tell him all of this. 😭 He really is as corny as it is a light in the dark for me. I am so proud of you and I hope that you enjoy the break you have because you deserve and need it. I hope you are reading all these messages and do that huge smile you do and your enormous contagious laugh. You have changed so many lives, and I would never ever regret loving you as much as I truly do. Your presence is truly a blessing to this earth. And I don’t deserve you. Like I want want to scream because I love you so much. I dedicate so much time to you because you just- I can’t even tell you why. I shed a few tears writing this and it’s dramatic but it’s how I feel. 25 years of a strong young beautiful man. I love you Niall. You’re like my second little home and I can’t thank you enough for existing on this earth that wouldn’t be the same without you. Thank you for everything that you do. Not just for me, but all, each and every single one of your fans. Your importance to me grows each second of each day. You are so selfless. You continue to surprise me by how amazing you are more and more each day. This new era you are going to smash it out of the park, like you always do. And, another favorite thing about you out of like 5,000,000 things is that... even if you don’t do good you are still happy. You always do well, but you are always smiling and give back no matter what the cause. And, that my love means everything. I know you will never see this but, I can’t wait to give a letter to you. I just can’t even comprehend that you are real. You are you. And, I wouldn’t want it any other way. You have so many family and friends who think everything and more of you and that’s because you’re love is contagious and infectious. You are so passionate about what you love and stand up for what you know is right. Niall is a tease, and a caring human that just wants to make everyone happy. He is weird and awkward at times, but that’s why I love him. And that’s only the start of why I love him. He is growing so much and always focuses on bettering himself. That is probably one of my favorite things about him. He never stops, and won’t give up until he knows he’s done the best he can. He is always making people smile and laugh. And, I truly just can’t thank him enough for being who he is; because he’s apart of me. He’s such a big part and constant thing in my life. He helps me like I wouldn’t believe, even I don’t know how much he helps me. His sarcasm in his humor, the way he is so gentle with fans. His nature to always make people feel wanted and loved. His weird way of making me feel that for myself. There’s so many simple things I love about him, but countless deep things that I honestly can’t word. His boldness, his cariama, his ALL. I could go on but there’s not one thing that I don’t love about him. It’s mind blowing. I don’t know who or where I would be without him. He always wants to learn new things, and the album he made was I can’t even imagine how hard to make. All in all HAPPY 26th my love. 💓💓💓I adore you. If you want to sit here all day and talk about how much I freaking love you, we can. I can not believe you are 24 baby! I can't even put into words how much you as a person mean to me. Almost evreything. You're spirt, smile, laugh, love, caring heart, simplicity, view on life, and I could go on. You make me so happy. Not a lot of people hardly any, make me as happy as you do. One day, if I ever get the chance I want to tell you that. I hope you are having a blast today. You deserve so much and more. This may sound cheesy, but I mean all of this from the bottom of my heart. Thank you so so much. You and the boys have made me love life so much more. I still can't believe you're 24. You act like a little 4 year old. I am so proud of you and all that you have achieved, and so freaking proud all yours dreams have come true. I love you. Just remember you have so many fans, who would do anything for you. You are such a great guy. You are so beautiful and funny. When I look at you it just brings me back to how much I actually love you. You will continue to grow and your music will always be breathe taking. I really wish there were more people on earth like you. Happy Birthday! Today is all about you! I LOVE YOU AND IVE EDITED THIS POST 500 times. I felt like I didn't write enough. Evrey single quality about you makes me so happy. I'm just sitting here thinking of how much of an amazing human being you are. You always think of others. Always put yourself last. You are not greedy or selfish, and that is how most people turn out when they have what you do. You just love life. You never ever take for granted what you have. Ever. And you just shine to your fullest. I really do love you so freaking much. Your accent, you're amazing blue eyes. Each thing about you. I just want to keep going and tell the world how much you deserve because my god, it's a whole lot. Don't ever stop being you. Get excited at the little things & laugh until you can't breathe. Surround yourself with the right people, like you always do, and I'm sure you'll never change. Thank you for always being here for me, whenever I need you. Some people think this is over dramatic, but each word I'm typing is true. I'm so glad I found you in 2012. I'm so glad that you are a real human. I just always want the best for you. I hope you enjoy you're time on stage, and I know you do. I see it with your passion and smile. Meet a girl, fall in love. I just don't want you to ever feel like you don't deserve all you have. Because you sure as hell do. A person like you, there's no one like you. You are so close to perfect as bad as that sounds. I love you, and I always will. Keep shining your light. Never let it out.

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remasteredinnuendo · 5 years

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Blue Bayou Part IV

Synopsis: Ben is nervous as he prepares for Bohemian Rhapsody. But just as he thinks nerves will get the best of him, he’s introduced to a woman who might just be the muse he needs. Inspired by the song Blue Bayou by Linda Ronstadt

Warnings: Insecurities

Info: This is the last official part of Blue Bayou, but I think I’ll do a separate epilogue! Let me know what you think!

Part IV:

Tonight was the Oscars, and they had all been waiting in Roger Taylor’s hotel foyer for twenty-five minutes. The limousine was outside, ready for them all. Every man was dressed in their black suit and buffed shoes, though Ben hadn’t quite gotten the memo. He was in white, and stood out. But lately that didn’t bother him.

They had been waiting on one single person now: Emmy herself.

Nobody quite knew why she was taking so long. She had, after all, come to visit Sarina so they could both get ready at the same time. Roger’s wife was all done up and finished, but Emmy was nowhere to be seen. Not even a glimpse. And though no one said they had seen her, there were plenty of whispers.

Ben stood off to the side, watching everything patiently. The cast of Bohemian Rhapsody were all huddled together, Rami keeping an arm around Lucy’s waist as they all laughed together. Joe and Gwilym were already wondering where they’d get some snacks before the ceremony. Sarina Taylor was pacing up and down the foyer on her phone, looking rather concerned. And Roger and Brian were chatting quietly to one another, looking calm as anyone could.

Until Sarina marched up to the two of them with her hands on her hips, cellphone clutched in her hand. “All right,” she declared, sounding impatient and not particularly quiet. “One of us have to go up there and drag her out. Freddie would never forgive any of us if we let her do this.”

“I don’t want to force her,” Brian said quietly, looking across the foyer to his wife, Anita, who was busy speaking to another woman who admired her gown.

Sarina smacked his arm. “She’s scared! Rightly so. You two and John spent so long hiding her from the media that now she feels she has to do this. Worse, she wants to. For her fathers. And she doesn’t know how to work with that.”

Listening in on people’s conversations wasn’t something Ben made a habit of. But he couldn’t pry himself from this one. Sarina wasn’t particularly quiet about it all. In fact, she didn’t seem to care who overheard her because she seemed quite concerned about the one party they were waiting for.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath before approaching the famous group. “I can speak to Emmy, if you think it’ll help.”

Roger caught his eye, and they both knew Ben was asking for his permission. The rock stars had spent their entire lives caring for Emmy. They had been there when she was a baby and ever since then, too. No one was allowed to break her heart; seemingly not even herself. And that was something he could respect.

Roger shared one look with Brian, feeling the glare from the present wife, and they both nodded. “Don’t come back without her.”

“I wouldn’t dream of such a thing,” he replied, and turned on his heel with one hand in his pocket.

The elevator couldn’t come fast enough. When the doors parted and he stepped inside, he pressed for the tenth floor. It gave him a minute to think about what he was going to say. He had heard she was frightened of something. Too frightened to leave for the Oscars ceremony. Sarina had mentioned the media. But how could Emmy, someone so confident, be frightened of anything like that?

There was a dinging sound, signalling he made it to the right floor. He turned the corner to his left and looked for the hotel room 512. His eyes scanned the plaques carefully, making sure he didn’t accidentally miss it. And as he neared, he found his heart pounding a little harder. His suit feeling a little warmer.

And when he found the right door, he raked all of his bravery together and knocked.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

And then there was a joked voice on the other side. “Go away!” it demanded. And though it tried to sound big and commanding, it came out rather choked and uneven.

He pressed his forehead against the door and willed it to open. “I’m not leaving.”

There was silence, and then the sound of scurrying on the other side. He heard something landing on the far side of the room with a thud, and wondered what she might have thrown. But he didn’t have much time to contemplate when the locks behind the door came away, and a woman in a yellow dress appeared.

Emmy stood in front of him in the beautiful canary-coloured gown with designs of silver sparkles. It was strapless, showing off her olive-coloured collarbones. The skirt of the gown was shorter at the front, showing off her ankles and the silver strappy heels, whereas the back seemed like the fabric had been gathered and barely brushed across the floor.

She looked breathtaking.

But with her hair pulled back from her face, it was easy to see how pale she was in the cheeks.

“I feel sick,” Emmy stated, as if those words would satisfy him.

When she stepped aside, Ben marched into the room and closed the door behind him before she could change her mind and kick him out. She immediately began to whirl around the space, like she couldn’t bear to stand still. Maybe she couldn’t.

“It’s just nerves,” he told her, walking to the little fridge to grab her a bottle of water. “But this is my first Hollywood award show, too.”

She barely seemed to notice when she took the bottle he offered and sipped. She continued pacing, brows pulled over her eyes with mania. “It’s not that!”

“Then what is it?”

Ben stopped her tornado, encircling her tiny wrist in his fingers and forcing her to still. He led her toward the foot of the bed and forced her to sit. As she sat, it seemed like the reality of the situation truly set in; her breath stuttered in her lungs and her eyes became glassy. Her shoulders slumped, like she was done fighting the idea of defeat and now allowed herself to sink in it.

She took a deep, shaky breath. “The minute I step out of that limousine and my feet touch the red carpet, I’m no longer Emmanuelle Bulsara. I’m Freddie Mercury’s daughter. Jim Hutton’s daughter. A girl who didn’t exist in the eyes of the world until tonight.”

“No one’s asking you to be anyone other than yourself,” he assured her, kneeling down and resting his hands on her knees. The fabric of her gown was so soft.

“The media will tear me apart. People will say I’m only revealing myself now because I want the money from the film,” Emmy told him, shaking her head fiercely as she attempted to chase the tears away. Her makeup was too perfect to smudge with a little bit of water.

Ben couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. For months and months he had been worried about how the media perceived him. What they’d see. And it had been Emmy who had talked him down every single time he thought it was too much. It was Emmy who made him feel like he could do anything. And now here she was, suffering from the same thing. How could someone so kind be unable to help themselves? It was a cruelty of the universe to make such a beautiful, sweet creature so sad.

“Don’t laugh at me, Ben Jones!” she said half-heartedly, smacking his shoulder. She couldn’t bite back the tiny smile on her lips.

“I don’t mean to, darling,” he promised. “But the tables certainly have turned.”

She wiped her nose and stared down at her hands. “Roger phoned me and asked me to sing Blue Bayou. And singing it seemed so hard and everything took thought and planning. And then the movie happened, and it felt like my regular surroundings didn’t fit me anymore.”

He was silent, listening to her intently, rubbing circles on her knees through her gown.

“But as I spend time in the world everyone tried so hard to shield me from, I feel like I know who I am again. I love music. I love Roger and Brian and John. I miss seeing them as often as I have since filming. But the press will be so confused, and because of that, I’ll be left wondering if I should’ve just stayed at home in my own little world.”

Ben snatched her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles, commanding her attention. “There are no photographs in papers of your face because you were Queen’s little secret. There are no articles about your life. Just the lives of your fathers. And that’s because your uncles didn’t want to make the decision of notoriety for you.”

She gave him a gentle smile, trying so hard to pull herself together.

“But they made this film for Freddie. For both of your dads. And they didn’t think it’d be right to do it without you,” Ben stated, feeling her relax ever so slightly. “They want you at the Oscars because you are the muse. They don’t care about anyone else— the press and the media. They care about you. Why would anyone else matter?”

Emmy exhaled, and this time it was smooth. There was no hesitation. No worry in the small act.

“You don’t have to go. None of us will force you. But if you decide not to go because you’re worried about everyone else, rather than for you, you’ll know you made the wrong decision.”

She stared at him, eyes roaming over his face like she was trying to memorize every line. His breath hitched when she leaned her forehead against his, a soft smile on her face. She gently pushed him away and Ben was surprised. Until he realized it was so she could stand.

Emmy smoothed her gown out, no tears on her cheeks, and nodded to him. “Well, get up Ben. We’ve got places to be.”

He stood, grinning like an idiot as she weaved her arm through his. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“As long as you’re with me, I think I’m ready for anything.”

Ben’s heart squeezed in his chest, and he allowed himself to press a kiss to her temple as they left the room.

Ready to take on the world.

#borhap #bohemian rhapsody #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy #imagine #mine #OC #Rami Malek #Gwilym Lee #Joe Mazzello #Roger Taylor #Brian May #Blue Bayou

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lowkeysebastianstan · 5 years

Note

hey there. I totally get your frustration with endgame and the ending. I wasn't happy and I'm not happy how half the fandom tells me/us how we have to look at it. how we have to accept it. how the actors are happy with it and so should we. how the writers/producers - okay, I'm gonna leave them out of this seeing neither of them have any idea what they have done in the first place. after all they disagree on everything in every interview since the release. and isn't that funny? (1/?)

how even they are not on one side with the movie? what I despise most right now when it comes to this movie and this fandom is how we are treated. how we should tag our “hate” - which I think is funny since I didn’t hate the movie entirely. I hated pieces of it, like I did with past movies. I never liked doctor strange and even back then people were allowed to mention how casting cumberbatch for the part wasn’t the smartest idea they had. (2/?)

people want us to be happy with an ending that doesn’t make sense to us and they appreciate and are “allowed” to shove down our throats with their happy posts about a perfect ending. how is taking tony’s life after he finally married pepper and got a daughter is perfect? how is sending steve back to peggy after they did everything in their power to convince us he moved on from his past life…how is that perfect? (3/?)

you can probably tell I’m bitter. I really am. there’s not a day that goes by I’m not frustrated with what we got after ten years and 22 movies. however, I thought to myself what would it give me to cling on to this on my blog. would it change anything? I do know I’m not alone. I see so many people agreeing with this anger and it gives me some sort of peace. at the end of the day, though, it’s also important to see what it gives to you. (4/?)

talking to one of my closest friends about it and voicing my frustration with the end helps me more than keep posting about it. because in the end it won’t change a thing. the longer I surround myself with the frustration and anger and everything that comes with this not being what I had hoped for the more it pushes me from the fandom. of course everyone do as they please and I get people who want to get it out of their system. (5/?)

but maybe sitting down and look at what the constant repeating will give you in the end, realizing where it might end, could help finding some kind of peace for you. I’d hope for you to enjoy the parts of the fandom that still apply to you. I really like your blog and you as a person and I’d hate to see one of my fave people on this site to leave (I lost count, but this is the last)

whew! hi right back, that was quite something.

i feel ive answered this ask before, was that also you?

i mean, yeah. i know im not alone, i do. i see some of it on my dash, but not a lot, since ive had to block every marvel related tag just to keep from indulging in some light murder (just gentle ones, not to worry), and i really cannot fathom why ppl on the other side of the isle can’t do the same? or if you’re getting tired of the negativity? blacklist. or unfollow, block even.

as ive said a few times lately, ive been here 6 years. and this is the first time ive aired my frustration in any noticeable way. sure there’s been a few occasions where i got the salt shaker out, but that was in relation to much more limited subjects, and it was a post or two at the most.

ive been frustrated with previous movies too, but ive kept my trap shut, ive just gone on, kept my queue stocked, giffed the rare set and hid behind pretty solid content, no drama, not personality, no engagement.

and it’s not too bad, to just be anonymous, to look at the pretty, spread the pretty, do the occasional tag rant, and let that be it.

but.

when i came back after a long hiatus last autumn i started writing again. i posted a psa where i apologised for the fact that i would reblog my writing on this blog, i informed what tags i was gonna use, and for the first time i actually checked my follower count before and after. i lost 20 followers the first day. for posting writing. my writing. that was tagged to a ridiculous degree. and i saw a fair few more disappear before the exodus, and idk. i made me realise a thing or two.

one, people like my blog and the content i post

two, they’re only here for that content

three, to have a strictly themed blog will limit you horribly

four, my followers in general don’t give a shit about me, only about the content i post, which fair enough

five, i care about that, even if i don’t care about the follower count as such, i do care that the ones i have actually like me

six, which is completely absurd bc none of them knows me at all, i never show myself

but that was then. this is now. and the last weeks has made me realise the most important thing of all, i dont care any more. why the fuck should i? when my showing any kind of negativity about something that i did care a whole lot about but i no longer have?

endgame might have killed all my enthusiasm for the mcu, and it fucking hurts. it’s been a staple in my life for years, ive invested my time, my creativity, my love and my goddamn money, and ive got jack shit to show for it. i have a blog that i used to love, but is becoming alien to me, and that hurts too. ive invested a lot in this blog too, after i deleted a few of my other blogs a couple of years back, this is by far my biggest one. and im torn tbh.

do i want to leave it? no, i don’t. can i go back? honestly? i doubt it. if my love for the mcu is gone, well so is bucky. and lets be real, a sebastian stan blog with no bucky? i cannot really see it, can you?

but hey. ill make you a deal, all of you. ill ease up on the memes, i won’t stop bc i have a few scheduled, you guys blacklist or unfollow if you dont want to see them, and ill see about sprinkling in some sebastian content if i can find any i deem worth it.

also i don’t have any close irl friends to air my frustrations with, everyone here loved this crap, and that’s not really the discourse im looking for. but im happy for you, it sounds nice :)

hope you’re having a great day!

eta: i won’t leave btw. not unless the porn hub thing comes into fruition. just so you know, and if anyone cares. just sayin.

eta2: also? the fact that i, or we, are complaining and being pissed at the movie, but the opposition are attacking us for doing that? instead of, again, fucking blacklist and leave us the fuck alone? yeah, doesn’t help with the bitter. if y’all are so threatened by our arguments, maybe you should reevaluate your own, seems you’re trying a bit too hard there. i don’t want to take enjoyment from anyone, i envy you too much for that, but ffs, just leave me the fuck alone to deal with it. (that’s not @ you, that’s to them)

eta3: and thank you for saying im someone you like. but see? ive been trolling you all, im terrible. and i expect you don’t like me as much now anyways. but thank you, it was nice to hear nevertheless.

#anon #ask #answered #anti endgame #see? i still tag it ffs #long post #so so long #hey i get it #the positivity is killing me #i get where you're coming from #but it's getting a bit tiresome to have people just come in and tell me to get over it #no matter how well you mean it #im sorry that i cant just snap and make half my feelings go away #y'know bc that would take away any good ones too #good greif infinity war kinda sucks too doesn't it #wow

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captain-kingliamsqueen · 6 years

Text

Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree

Your feedback means everything to me honestly! so please don’t hesitate to leave a wee note!

Pairing: Liam x Riley, Riley x Maxwell

Summary: … Riley and Liam spend some time together whilst Liam's away.

Word Count: 1,777

Tagged : @starstruckzonkoperatorbat @drakelover78 @queencatherynerhys @devineinterventions2 @jayjay879 @kawairinrin @hopefulmoonobject @flyawayblue56 @gardeningourmet @blackcatkita @syltti78 @diamond-dreamland @theroyalweisme @hhiggs @mfackenthal @bruteforcebears @pens-girl-87 @barbaravalentino @umccall71 @darley1101 @crookedslimecreatorpasta @jamjar84 @starstruckpixelberryhistoryvoid @speedyoperarascalparty @katurrade @scarlettedragon @zeniamiii

ASK IF YOU WANT TAGGED! OR UNTAGGED!

I SINCERELLY APPOLOGISE IF I MISSED ANYONE, IM TRYING TO KEEP TRACK OF WHO WANTS TAGGED AND STUFF!

I always notice every single spelling mistake or issue after I’ve posted…so apologies in advance!

Riley let out a sigh as she watched all the nobles around her dancing away, twirling and turning. She was normally a huge lover of the festive season, she looked forward to the Christmas ball that she and Liam had decided to make a recurring event, it was Riley and Liam's first Christmas together, like really together, this time last year the two were in the midst of trying to find out who was behind the scandal that stopped their engagement, they didn’t have time to think about Christmas. This year, Riley had ensured they both have a few days off from royal duties over Christmas, the two were supposed to start their days off today, but there she was sitting alone watching the goings on around her, Liam had one last meeting he had to attend in London yesterday at three, British time, then he was going to fly straight home, he was meant to arrive back in Cordonia for eleven last night, Riley was missing him dearly, he had been away for a solid three weeks, flying from country to country, attending meeting after meeting, leaving Riley to deal with Cordonian matters, she didn’t mind looking after her country…it was her job…her life, it was late last night she had gotten the phone call…

Riley had been watching the clock all day counting down the hours and minutes before her husband returned to her. She had decided to pack up the papers she was looking through early, she wanted to welcome her husband home properly. Riley left her office at about seven, she headed straight up to the royal apartment, with a hop in her step and smirk on her face, she made her to the bathroom, where she started running the bath, filling it with bubble bath. Whilst she waited on the bath filling she went to the walk in closet where she opened the top drawer and pulled out her favourite piece of lingerie, she lay the baby doll outfit on bed then started undressing, wrapping herself in her silk robe then headed for the bathroom, once the bath was ready she slipped her robe off then climbed in, lowering herself into the water. Instantly feeling the stress of the day disappear, it was the first time Riley had been left to deal with the needs of Cordonia on her own, Liam told her many times how proud of her he was that she was dealing with everything so well. Little did he know, it was all piling up, Riley had been so stressed, trying to make sure everything was perfect, she didn’t want to worry Liam with her worries that she wasn’t doing what she should, or her unsure mind. On top of that Riley had not been sleeping well, with Liam being gone, after everything that happened with the scandal threw Riley off, she hated being alone, she tried to surround herself with people at all times but at night, she was alone. Her mind ran marathons, she felt unsafe, but when Liam was there…it was a whole different story, she knew she was safe, she wasn’t alone, he was there when she fell asleep, he was there when she woke up, but since he left, she would sit up until stupid o’clock, she would read, watch tv, try and get some extra files worked through to make the workload easier for the following day, she was lucky if she was getting two three hours sleep a night, and those hours where the only reason she was still going. Liam was aware of Riley's sleeping issues, but what could he do from miles away. He would call her at the same time every night, he would ask her about her day, how she was feeling, how she had slept the night before.

As Riley bathed for about forty-five minutes, then she climbed out of the tub, wrapping a towel around her, she pulled the plug from the bath, then started drying herself off. once she was dried she wrapped her robe around her, then made her way into the bedroom, she perched herself on the end of the queen-sized bed, before getting dressed she started applying her moisturiser, Liam's favourite, the reason being it smelled like chocolate, every time she used it Liam would mention it, he would inform her how good she smelled and how much he loved it. Once Riley was dressed she lay back on the bed, leaning against the pillows ready to greet Liam when he got home. Whilst waiting for his return she entertained herself by watching some tv. It was about ten when she was startled by her mobile ringing. She quickly clicked answer seeing it was Liam.

“Riley! Ive been trying to get through for hours, the weather is crazy, there's a huge blizzard so my phone might cut out”

“are you at the airport?” Riley played with the hem of her babydoll lingerie

She heard Liam sigh sadly “riley” he whispered

“you’re not coming back tonight…are you?” she replied in the same tone.

“I’m so sorry sweetie, I waited at the airport for hours to see if they would let me fly home…but its too dangerous, they’re going to let me know as soon as I can fly home”

“I take it you won’t make it back for the Christmas ball tomorrow?”

“it doesn’t look like it honey, I’m sorry”

“don’t apologise Liam, it’s not your fault”

“I miss you”

“I miss you too”

“what are you doing?” Liam asked

“nothing…just watching tv” she lied as she looked down at her outfit.

“what are you watching?”

“reign”

“Riley!” He groaned “we were watching it together!”

“hey mister don’t you take that tone with me…you left me all by myself…I’m entertaining myself…you’ll just have to catch up!” riley smirked

“betrayed…by my own wife!” he chuckled

“what are you doing?”

“I am just about to climb into bed” Liam replied as Riley heard ruffling

“but it’s not night time there” she stated confused

“I know but I’m want to try and get back on cordonian time”

“Liam…”

“yeah?”

“…I love you”

“I love you too”

The couples conversation carried on for a further hour and a half, just catching up on each other’s day.

Back in the ballroom, Riley was startled by a gentle hand on her back, then a man sitting beside her.

“hey…why does my best friend look so down?” Maxwell’s voice filled her ears, she gently leaned her head on his shoulder.

“hey, I’m sorry am I ruining the mood?” she whispered

“the queen…no!” he smirked “he’ll be home soon Riley”

“I know…these things just aren’t the same without him y’know?”

“I know you wanted to spend the ball with Liam…but why don’t you come with me and I’ll keep you entertained for a while, come on…come dance with me?” he smiled that goofy Maxwell smile that she could never resist

“I’m sorry max, I just, don’t feel like dancing right now”

“Riley Rhys…if you don’t get that be-hind on that dancefloor…I am going to have to go to extremes…”

“and what are those” a giggle left Riley's lips

“I…I will…Tickle you…” Maxwell responded over exaggeratedly

“max” she laughed

“Riley…come on…ill make you one of my famous pineapple drinks!”

“just for me?” she smirked

“just for you” he smiled

“alright…come on, come with me” Maxwell smiled as he stood from his seat, extending his hand out for Riley to take, she smiled as she took his hand, allowing him to pull her from her seat. He reached his arm out as she placed her hand gently on his arm.

Once they reached the bar, Riley sat on one of the stools whilst she watched Maxwell concoct his famous drink. Once it was finished the two clinked pineapples then began to drink.

“god that tastes amazing” she smiled “thank you Maxwell”

“no need” he replied with a light shake of the head. Just a short ten minutes later Riley started to feel the buzz from the drink, Maxwell took her hand in his then pulled her to the dancefloor

“I LOVE THIS SONG!!” Maxwell shouted laughing as rockin’ around the Christmas tree started playing. He and Riley, twirled and danced, laughing as they went.

After the song finished Riley held her hand on her side “ive got a stitch” she laughed “I’ve gotta sit down”

“booo!!!!” Maxwell's loud laugh filled the room. following her to the table she had been sitting at he took a seat beside her.

“so…are you feeling better?”

“yes, thank you Maxwell” she gently placed her hand on his on the table “thank you for cheering me up, I really needed it, you’ve always been such a good friend to me max, a lot of people underestimate you, but your one of the most kind, selfless people ive ever met and I hope you know how much you mean to all of us, I wouldn’t be where I am today without you.” she smiled as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“your going to make me cry” he pretended to wipe his eyes causing Riley to giggle

“I love you Maxwell, you’re the best friend anyone could ever have”

“I love you too Riley!” he smiled as he pulled her into a hug

Riley spent the night laughing and dancing with her friends. When it eventually reached two am, she decided to make her way to bed. She was well and truly done in, she was on her way to bed she removed her dress and shoes, leaving her in her underwear. After washing her face and brushing her teeth she turned the light off pulling the duvet around her like a cocoon she lay her head on Liam's pillow slowly falling into a deep slumber.

It was about four am when Riley awoke to a hand on her side and gentle kisses on her shoulder, if it were anyone else and she would have leaped from the bed, but she knew…she knew exactly who it was.

“I missed you” he whispered between kisses, Riley smiled with a gentle sigh

“it’s so good to feel your touch” she whispered as she placed her hand gently on top of his, linking her fingers with his.

“your freezing!” He exclaimed

“well…warm me up then” Riley smirked as she scooted back feeling his body against her.

“I’m sorry I missed the ball” he held her close placing kisses on her shoulder.

“it’s okay…” she smirked “your home now that’s all that matters” she whispered as she turned to face him, cuddling into his chest, the two quickly fell into a deep slumber.

#trr #trr choices #choices trr #trr fanfic #trr liam #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #playchoices fandom #play choices fanfiction #choices #choices app #king liam #liam x riley #liam x mc #riley x liam #king liam x mc #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic

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nad-zeta · 4 years

Text

Match up! (◠‿◠✿)

hiya!! can i pls get a matchup for ikesen, if its ok? 💞

bi girl i prefer guys! ambiverted intp, gryffindor, n true neutral. i have an older twin sis n i love/hate her sm lmao!!

i have medium-length straight-ish black hair (w/ a side bang to the right) & dark brown eyes!! im 5'5-ish, fun fact: im a filipina!

sooo im a complex daydreamer!! i NEED attention/affirmation or ill feel unwanted/sad. emotional scorpio, im quite sensitive. anxiety, i overthink too much! quiet w/ people im not close w/. easily annoyed but guilty after ‘cause im soft-hearted. im like half funny/playful/kind & half deep/mature/awkward- hopeless romantic! i have a way w/ words, sorta poetic? i wanna be the best! sorta socially anxious, i have a fear of judgement. im not innocent but ppl think i am at first. i look fine but deep down im a big mess. rlly smart & knowledgable. vv passionate, big nerd actually! im like a kid w/ my twin but w/ others im more mature. im the type to do fun stuff and loosen up but would also just cuddle and have long convos. im vv good w/ technology! very imaginative, i come up with stories a lot- around others im very quiet because i literally have no idea what to say. actually a big history fanatic, hehe. i act confident but im not rlly, actually vv insecure and i regret a lot of things.

a habit of mine is that i tend to drift away and just… think? i also tend to care a lot abt my appearance! i get competative but there are also times when im just chill. i get vv embarrassed when i lose control tho n i regret it sm :(( i have loads of trouble asking for help even if i like to help others a lot! i like being organised but i tend to be… chaotic.

hsjsh- fun fact: there are times where im just,, super hyper n say the weirdest things? im good in school but,, im lazy yknow- i love math (surprisingly, i got a natural talent?), science (esp abt stars n space), history, and english (actually my 2nd languange but im very fluent) the most. bilingual but im also learnin french! wanna learn latin too tho but id break down- i have the fear of the unknown, failure, n loneliness! im scared of the future cause its beyond human ability to know,, the only guys ive rlly talked to r family members so my awkwardness goes 100x hsjsjs

oh, i rlly love affection, but i need a lot of space too, tho! girls gotta have privacy- games r a hUge part of my life, so is technology and the modern era! i actually like sports too- not very good at em tho :((

some likes: gaming, jokes (esp corny/stupid/puns), space, stars, weapons (esp swords/guns), philosophy, psychology, testing myself, affection, animals, doing exhilirating things, music, movies, books, writing, astrology, astronomy, learning new things, & mythology.

some dislikes: too much heat, school presentations, creepy dolls, being under pressure, dirty things, blind faith, & annoying people.

tysm! omg i hope this isnt too long- i think this is too long?? yIkes i hope that this is ok!! love ur writing btw! stay safe 💞

Hi hi love! thank you so much for the request! You sound like a wonderful person and omw it soooo cool that you have a twin! I actually think she sent in a request right after you did lol! Anyways sorry for making you wait sooooo long and i hope you enjoy it! @x-joie-x

So i match you with...................... Mitsuhide

The first time you meet this sneki boy, you were quiet and reserved. War council had just ended and you were named as a princess of the Oda forces. You were super socially awkward, and anxiety was slowly starting to creep in, as the curious warlords started to surround you. It wasn’t until Mitsuhide had pulled you away in a teasing manner to save you from the crowd that you finally started to calm down. He had noticed this new little mouse had been on edge since arriving. However, he didn’t suspect you of being an assassin or spy as, during the whole council, your hands shook, and you could barely speak up against Nobunaga’s demanding and commanding tones.

Mitsuhide had found you incredibly amusing from the first moment you walked in, you caught this foxes eye. He didn’t know if it was the innocence or naïve purity that just seemed to radiate from you, but for some reason when he was looking at you, he found that he simply couldn’t look away.

It took all of one day for all the warlords to officially drop all suspicions of you. You were just such a sweetheart how could they not instantly love you and feel the need to protect you. You had started helping a few of the maids that first morning after you were named princess. You didn’t want to be a freeloader, so you worked hard to earn your keep and soon, the maids were fighting over who would get to work with you cause all of then just loved and adored you so much.

You got annoyed with Hideyoshi when he first found you helping the maids, as he was 100% started micromanaging you. You lost you cool and raised your voice at him, TBH Hideyoshi didn’t think anything of it, but it wasn’t until you had pitched up at his manor an hour later to apologize for being so rude to him that he realized what a sweet and sensitive person you truly were. Of course from that moment onward you had gained yourself a big doting brother.

All the Oda forces agreed that you were too sweet and naïve for your own good, so Mitsuhude was assigned to give you princess lesson to prepare you for your new life as Oda princess. You were super excited when Mitsuhide had told you that he was going to teach you a variety topics such as economics, politics, history and self-defence. You even managed to impress the sneki boy, by getting all the questions correct on the first test he had handed you. You had found that first test incredibly easy as you were a bit of a history buff, and all the questions had been based on Nobunaga’s history. This low key shook the sliver kitsune a little bit, as this proved that not only were you pure and naive but you were also super smart. You kind of reminded him a little bit of Mitsunari, a cleaver professor with their head in the clouds.

Mitushide praised you for your ability to pick up on concepts quickly and work diligently as a student, “I dare say little one, you are the best student a teacher could ask for.” You spend masses amount of time with sneki boi, and through that time you realized just how sweet Mitsuhide truly was, although he was a massive tease leaving you a blushy mess almost every day after lessons with his teasing comments. And naturally, the more time Mitsuhide had spent with you, the more in love he fell. It was also noted by the fellow warlords that, Mitsuhide always wore a soft gentle expression when it came to you, and in your experience he had been a kind gentle patient teacher. SO naturally you found yourself more and more drawn to this mysterious man.

Through all the time spent with the kitsune, you found yourself opening up more and more. He was one of the few people that got to see your playful side. You now would make the puniest, corniest jokes he has ever heard, leaving this kitsune in a fit of laughter mid-way through a lecture. Not only that, but he loved loved loved your competitiveness side.

This side of you slowly started to surface after the 3rd or 4th self-defence lesson when you started challenging the kitsune to rematches whenever he would pin you down, ultimately beating you in your little makeshift sword fight. Boy oh boy, don’t even get me started on the shooting lessons, once you were able to fire the rifle, you were straight-up challenging this boy, the best marksmen around to a shoot-off. “Come on Mitsuhide, the first one to get 100 bulls-eyes in a row wins, and the loser has to buy tea.” Needless to say, you always lost and even though every day you would make that exact bet, Mitsuhide would always insist on sticking you for tea and lunch as reward for being such a good student.

He really enjoyed spending time with you and would absolutely insist on holding your hands whenever the two of you were on your way to the tea house together after your lessons. “I can’t have my clumsy little mouse tripping and falling now can I.” Every day without fail, he would say that to you as he wraps his big hand around your small one, while leading you to your favourite tea house.

The two of you would talk about everything and anything over tea, these topics ranged from you making stupid jokes, to talking about random topics such as philosophy and psychology. Either way, Mitsuhide loved to spend time with you. He would always listen to and hang on to every word you said, storing every word in his memory.

You were his precious little mouse, and he knew you were an extremely sensitive creature. If anyone dared say a single bad word to you or make you sad, they would face the wrath of this very protective kitsune. Like one time, one of the visiting daimyos had talked down to you for accidentally bumped into him. You were busy cleaning the windows when you accidentally lost your balance and bumped into him. He was so disgusted that a mere maid had touched him. He started yelling at you and insulting you, this escalated to such a point that he even had his hand raised ready to hit you for getting dirty window water on his shoes. That’s when sneki boi decided to intervene. Mitsuhide legit stood protectively in front of you with his rifle pointed at the man’s heart, with the full intention to shoot. “Golly me it appears like you are quite the troublesome little mouse, my dear.” He then turned his sharp gaze towards the daimyo “I do suggest you apologize to the Oda princess, lest you want to answer for your crimes directly to Nobunaga.” The man simply scoffed and walked away. Mitsuhide then turned to you and enveloped you in a warm hug while kissing the top of your head, “Are you alright, my dear little mouse?” Mitsuhide looked into your beautiful eyes and gently took your hands in his, “Come little one, I have something I wish to show you.”

The two of you walked hand in hand to Mitsuhide’s manor, Mitsuhide led you out into his garden, where you saw something so beautiful you could cry. The garden was filled with flowers and candles and in the centre was a table set up, with a feast laid out op top of it.

Mitsihide had told you that night that he was hopelessly in love with you. He was overjoyed when he had discovered that you like him, was also a hopeless romantic and that you had an incredibly poetic, romantic way with words. You handed him a letter in which you had expressed your feelings for him in the form of a beautifully written poem. You were actually intending to leave the poem on his desk as a way of confessing your feelings. This instantly melted sneki bois heart into a giant puddle and he couldn’t help but pull you in for a sweet kiss.

After diner Mitsuhide had led you deeper into the garden where a fluffy blankie was sprawled out on the grass, he guided you to sit down and the motioned for you to lookup. Above you, a thousand stares were shooting across the sky in a big meteor shower. Mitsuhide pulled you into his arms and kissed your cheeks as the two of you watched the sky. He always remembered every detail you had told him about yourself, so when you revealed that you loved the sky and the stars, he knew he had to incorporate this rare meteor shower in your date somehow.

This had sparked a new tradition between the two of you, to stargaze and spend the whole night in deep conversation. These nights were full of love and affection as Mitsuhide would pull you into his lap and just hold you there for hours and hours as the two of you talked and watched the sky

Of course sneki boi also had a bit of a spontaneous side, and would take you on exhilarating trips around Nobunaga’s territories. They were mostly missions but after you had nagged Nobunaga to give you permission to go along on the missions, you and Mitsuhide would finish the official work asap so that the two of you cuties had plenty of time to enjoy yourself in the new environment.

Mitsuhide loves everything about you from your slight messiness, to your love of learning new things. He also knows that his sweet little mouse sometimes needs some space and alone time and will be sure to give you as much alone time as you need to recharge. He knows that you will seek him out when you have had enough of your own company. He will always welcome you back with outstretched arms when you have had enough alone time, and shower you with endless amounts of affection.

Whenever you are feeling insecure or worrying about the future Mitsuhide is right there by your side, whispering words of affection and reassurance in your ears. He makes sure to remind you every day just how perfect you are and just how much he loves you.

Often you can be found in sneki boys lap with your head resting comfortably in the crook of his neck as he soothingly strokes your hair. Don’t be surprised if this sneaky kitsune drops a few kissed on your nose, cheeks or lips during these quiet and peaceful moments, just as a way to convey how much he loves and adores you.

Other potential matches……………..Masamune

I hope you enjoyed it dear and i hope you have the best day!

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