i regret nothing anyway

A Bedtime Story

hello, loves! i’ve had this idea in my head for a little while now, and i’ve finally been able to put the words to the page! i’m really happy with how this turned out, so i hope you enjoy! please let me know what you think!

huge thank you to the lovely @takemeawaytocamelot for being the best motivator and cheerleader ever, as well as my other tss ladies who are always the most supportive bunch. 🤗

IMPORTANT: THIS IS STRICTLY A ONE-SHOT. NO MORE PARTS WILL BE WRITTEN.

-the eldest bairn, kait xxx


“Did you really think that I would swallow this… fairytale? Do you think I’m still five years old?”

It’s not a fairytale, Bree.


The door shut behind her with a sharp bang! that echoed throughout the house, reverberating off of the walls and causing the vanity to shake. Unperturbed with the state of the mirror or the trinkets that surrounded it, she stomped over to the bed and unceremoniously plopped down on it, grasping the hairbrush and angrily running it through her hair.

All of her life, she thought that she was someone else–countless times she had helped her father, spending hours upon hours looking through their genealogy chart in an attempt to trace their ancestry throughout Europe. He had played along, telling her about his grandparents and great-grandparents, all the way to the eldest ancestor that they knew of: a Captain of Dragoons, stationed in Scotland with a pristine record and high regards from the Crown for his service. Frank had always talked so highly of him, but whenever his name was mentioned, her mother would leave the room.

She realized that her mother never truly told her much about her own heritage, just about Uncle Lamb and her parents, but besides that…

I suppose she wanted to keep that under wraps, too, she thought, brushing the other side of her head.

A moment passed before she fully paused, looking down at the curling waves of her auburn hair. Her father didn’t have red hair–granted, neither did her mother. She remembered asking him once where her red hair came from, and he had just replied, “One of your relatives.”

One of my relatives. My father…?

She set the brush down on the bed, running her fingers through the soft strands. As much as she didn’t know right now, one thing was certain: Frank Randall was not her biological father, this Jamie Fraser–whoever he might be–is. However, that was the only straw she could grasp from the bunch that her mother gave her; she had lost Brianna as soon as she said Culloden.

How could one believe such a tale? Her father apparently did–the other one.

Jamie Fraser.

So many emotions were coursing through her veins, but the one of highest supply was frustration and anger. She felt betrayed by her mother, of whom she felt had lied to her all of her life, making her believe that Frank Randall was her biological father. And after a moment, anger seemed to triumph over all other emotions, and she flung herself off of the bed, pulling a bag off of the floor and stuffing as much into it as humanly possible. She needed to get out of there. Now.

After realizing that not everything was going to fit if she kept shoving everything into the small opening of the rucksack, she instead started emptying the contents onto the floor. She shook the bag harshly, taking her anger out on the innocent fabric pack, before she heard something plop unceremoniously onto the floor. At first, she didn’t recognize it, but after a moment’s pause, her racing pulse leveled.

It was a small, leather-bound notebook, no more than 5 inches in width, 6 in height. The book was about 100 pages thick, covered in both her mother’s and her own scrawled hand across the pages, alternating between different colors of ink.

A fairy-tale told to her by her mother in her youth.


A five-year-old Brianna Randall sits upright in bed, excitedly gripping the edges of her quilt as she waits for her mother to return home. At this point, they had their schedule down to a science: Claire would walk in the door, go straight to the eagerly-awaiting Brianna, and she would recount to her daughter the adventures told the night before.

Tonight, however, was different. Daddy had come home from the University with a beautiful leather-bound, handheld notebook. “Fill it with whatever your heart desires, little beauty,” he had said, and she took it to heart. She would fill it up, cover to cover, with her favorite story of all time.

Her heart began to race in excitement as she heard her mother’s voice coming from downstairs, the beats getting more frantic as she heard the footsteps getting closer and closer. When the door finally opened and the bright blue scrubs came into view, she jumped up and down in her bed.

“Mama, guess what I got from Daddy today!” She squealed, thrusting the notebook at her mother in excitement.

“Oh, Bree, how lovely!” She examined the book delicately before handing it back to her daughter. “What will you write in it?”

Bree giggled, “Silly Mama, our story!”

Instead of replying right away, she swallowed hard, turning herself away from her daughter and towards the window. Confused, Brianna ignored this strange behavior and went to her desk, pulling out a pen and holding it out to her mother. “Write, Mama?”

She cleared her throat once before turning back around, a smile forming on her lips. “Of course, love. Now, where did we leave off?”

“No, we have to start over!”

Smiling, Claire took the pen from her daughter’s tiny hand and balanced the book on her knee, starting to write. While she wrote, she had Bree read the words out loud to her.

Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a King and his fair Queen. The pair loved each other very much, and to prove that their love was eternal, the King took his wife away from the business of castle life to a remote village in the mountains. 

While there, they visited their subjects and attended to their duties, as Kings and Queens do, but one day, the Queen was separated from her King and fell through a portal to another world. Frightened and alone, the Queen ran for miles and miles to find her King, but couldn’t find her way back. Getting lost in the ever-thickening wood as she ran, she encountered the most fearsome dragon in all of the Worlds. Fortunately, however, she was rescued by a knight in shining silver armor and taken away to safety.

On the way to the castle, the Queen’s escort introduced himself as Sir James the Red, Knight of Lallybroch. The Queen introduced herself only as Christine, in fear that someone would recognize her.

For many months the Queen took refuge in the new castle, Leoch, becoming a guest of it’s King and making many friends among the subjects. One day, after a great Gathering was held, the Grand Duke requested she be present on a hunt, to which she agreed. While on the hunt, she became very close to Sir James, who promised to protect her from anything and everything she could encounter on the journey.

And as Sir James predicted, Christine came face-to-face with the monstrous dragon once more. With his fiery breath, he burned her repeatedly. But ever so true to his word, her Knight came to save her and, in order to protect her, offered his hand to her, which she accepted. The two of them became extremely close while continuing the hunt. She missed her King dearly, but was starting to accept her life with her red Knight in shining armor. 

Eventually, the Knight found out about her travels through time, and offered to take her back home. They traveled on horseback for days while the Queen figured out what her heart truly wanted. Her duty was to her King, but how could she leave her Knight, a man that she had grown to love more than life itself?

It all came down to a single choice. Sir James took her to the portal, where she had to make her final decision. Who did she want to be: Christine the Queen, or Christine, the Knight’s wife?

In the end, she chose Sir James. The pair went back to his home, to begin their happily ever after. That is, until the creature returned, this time to take him for retribution, and it was up to Lady Christine to be her Knight’s savior.

With the help of Sir James’ fellow knights, and a few cows, Lady Christine was able to save her knight in shining–

“Mama,” Bree, now an inquisitive eight-year-old, interrupted, looking at her mother in confusion. “What did the cows do?”

Claire laughed, caught off-guard by her question. “Well, Sir Marcus decided that it would be the easiest way to get Sir James out of the dragon’s keep, without drawing too much attention.”

Bree’s eyebrows creased together and her lips pursed outward. “But… wouldn’t a large group of cows draw attention to them, anyway?”

“Do you want me to continue or not?”

She nodded eagerly, leaning away from the headboard. 

Lady Christine was able to save her knight in shining armor, and together they traveled away to a distant land full of delectable foods, beautiful dresses, large parties, and lots of intrigue. But Sir James’ experiences with the monster left him scarred, emotionally and physically. She tried her best to help him, but nothing she did soothed his suffering. Eventually, their marriage began to crumble, and she feared she would lose her husband.

One night, she talked to him about it. He told her all of his heart, as one should in a marriage, and the patches seemed to be healed. However, when the evil creature returned for his just desserts, Sir James vowed that he would be the one to slay it. Afraid for her husband’s life, as well as the dragon’s, she begged him to leave it be. His grudge, however, would haunt him forever as he attempted to slay the beast, eventually doing so with all three of them seriously injured. Lady Claire saved Sir James once more, and, after losing their faith, the pair moved back to their country to be with their family. Fate, however, would not be on their side.

A war was rapidly approaching, and as much as they tried to stop it from coming, Sir James and Lady Christine were faced with no other choice. Pregnant with his child, he sent them back to her own time, where they could be safe in the protection of the King. 

“She never goes back to him?” Thirteen-year-old Bree inquires of her mother with her elbows on her knees and her hands resting beneath her chin.

Claire pauses, swallowing an invisible lump in her throat. “No, she doesn’t.”

“Why not? If she truly loves him, wouldn’t she want to be with him forever?”

“Of course she would.” She smiled softly, wrapping her arms around Bree’s shoulders. Leaning her head on top of her daughter’s, she asked, “Do you remember the battle, the one that they were all preparing for at the end of the story?”

Bree nodded, urging her to continue.

“Well, before they parted, Sir James promised m–Christine–” She cleared her throat. “He told Lady Christine that he would die on the battlefield, defending his country. And she took his word for it.”

“So, she didn’t even try to find him? Not even for the chance that they could be together again?”

Tears formed in Claire’s eyes, but Bree couldn’t see them. Instead of replying, she finished the story.

Lady Christine returned to her time and resumed her position as Queen. She was reunited with her King, and he promised that they would raise Sir James’ child together, as their own.

A few months later, a princess was born, and they named her Ellen, after Sir James’ mother. And together, the three of them lived a happy life, the child unaware of her true parentage.

Every once in awhile, however, the Queen would see her daughter’s red hair catch the light, and she would see her husband. Her red Knight. 

Her one and only love.

The End

swampthot  asked:

hey john not to be that guy but im wondering when you guys are gonna cover all star by smash mouth. im not even joking this is a serious concern. you may think im pulling your leg. memeing you for shits and giggles. sir i am not. i just think when i finally hear it i can be at peace i think. please respond

We are never going to do this. I learned my lesson with “funny” covers in the 90s. Bands generally speaking have to be really careful about doing anything funny, because people then want you to make the same joke for the rest of your life. There are approximately 10,000,000,000,000,000 worse problems to have, so I am not complaining, but I am explaining why, while it would be funny to do this, I would regret it: the next night. And the night after. And forever. People would absolutely see to it that I regretted it but good. One of the discreet joys of growing older is learning to stop yourself from doing stuff you might later regret. Other people take this weird “I regret nothing!” attitude toward everything they’ve done but I have never really understood that whole stance, if a person regrets nothing then I wonder what their whole deal is honestly. Anyway. Covers that would be totally hilarious are generally, with very occasional exceptions, off the menu, because they become millstones almost immediately. Neolithic and Upper Paleolithic citizens used millstones for grinding nuts, rhizomes, grains, and probably a lot of other stuff we don’t even know about. Did they sometimes get curious, what if I ground my finger in this millstone, fuckin’ ouch, that was stupid? I bet they did, and that’s how I’d feel if I covered “All-Star.” I have, after a long apprenticeship, finally left the Neolithic Era behind and entered, with much ceremony, my own personal Bronze Age. 

6

Penguin: Trust me! I’m a linguist! It’s called reduplication! 

The penguin is not a linguist, don’t listen to her.

HEY IT’S TIME TO RANT ABOUT HOW TUMBLR TREATS SNAPE AND ABUSE VICTIMS NOW;

I’m sorry if this came out confusing as hell but it was keep in my chest for way too long and I just needed to get this shit out ;; (also if anyone knows how to put things into read more in the mobile version please let me known)

Oh God Tumblr is just so fucking unhealthy to victims of bullying it’s disgusting. We all need to have self destructive habits and never ever smile because if not, we don’ have any mental illness, we are just some neurotypical that “thinks that has some problem” BUT at same time you need to be a pure and perfect angel that cries at night because oh boy looks how tragic even though we are so good to people we only gain beatrayal and pain in return. And if you’re not like that? Then you are a disgusting bitter person that don’t know when to grown up. (The same goes on how people thinks bitter posts are funny but when someone actually acts like that then they are a horrible rude person)

But guess what? That’s what abuse and bullying does, you can overcome it? YES. But even so, it leaves marks. And it will slip when you least expect. It takes a LOT of work to go through everything and says “It doesn’t affect me anymore, I am not what this x thing did to me”, and it’s a constant fight, SPECIALLY when you are emotional, to not the way you are treated your whole life. It’s not that you are a bad person, you learned to act this way. We know it’s bad and most of times, we will not act like our abusers but IT TAKES TIME AND IN MOST OF CASES FUCKING PROFESSIONAL HELP. No one who go through shit and just keeps smiling, when you are bitten you learn to bite, and be damned if you are not going to use it as self defense.

Look, my father isn’t exactly abusive (I refuse to call it abuse tbh), I know he loves me but he simply don’t know how to show it very well, he has an untreated borderline and we all understand that. My mother isn’t exactly the most sensible person in the world either. Because of this I actually don’t know how to fucking express that I like someone, I don’t even know how the fuck hugs even *work*, so I decided to show it through actions. People who don’t know me very well thinks I am cool hearted, or egoist, or bitter at life and et cetera, but those who do knows that I will do everything to be at their side helping with at I can. I just don’t know how to help people emotionally because I never learned it in my house very well AND that is counting the fact that I overcome my father’s “abuse” through therapy and lots of research and help from my friends.

Now, Snape? Severus Snape didn’t get that. Because people didn’t even *try* to help him. Snape didn’t even “make all the wrong choices”, Snape simply didn’t got CHOICES in the first place. He was bullied and abused and nobody fucking cared. He learned how to be strong alone. There was only defense for him and it was to attack. I love how people say that he should just be quiet in a corner that the bullying would stop eventually because it’s OBVIOUSLY THOSE PEOPLE DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT BEING BULLIED. It will not stop if you keep quiet, you are just making yourself a better target. And remember; Snape was almost killed in a prank. He could have told to his housemates about it and get revenge, but he choose to talk to Dumbledore and the only think he got in return? A “Shut up and don’t tell anyone about it”. You know who was the only person who promised a better life for Snape? Voldemort. And don’t lie saying that if you are in his place you wouldn’t choose it because we all know it's​ not true.

Also, his only canon friend besides Lily was Lucius (and Dumbledore, I guess), and when he turned into a spy he betrayed him. He choose a life with no friends and no family because of *guilty*. And remember again; Snape changed sides but he never got the help he needed to come through all of this shit alright. And you know what happens when you go through this much shit and don’t overcome it? Yes dude, you grown​ bitter, depressed and guess what? You don’t fucking forget easily. People love comparing him to Harry but SNAPE ISN’T HARRY. SNAPE WASN’T SORTED INTO GRYFFINDOR AND SNAPE DIDN’T HAVE FRIENDS. Harry and Snape share a lot of personality traits? Yes. They are abused by their family? Yes. They both are bullied by jerks? Yes. But Harry got lucky and people love to forget that. Harry isn’t who he is because he was a better person than Snape or a cinnamon roll who only has good in his heart, Harry is who he is because he got a shit ton of help, their stories are different, period. I feel so angry when people compare him to Snape as some sort of “Look how better he is as a person”, because how ignorant you have to be to think that you are born bitter or positive, that you are inherent good or evil? I mean, do these people even *read* Harry Potter?

And no, I am not in any ways excusing Snape actions towards students who are way more young than him, but the chances that he didn’t even thought about the damage he was inflicting to them is VERY HIGH. Also, what’s the point in loving a character that is a unrealistic fluffy ball all the time? cough

Anyway, TL;DR; the thing is I fucking hate how Tumblr treats abuse victims. If you’re not there to people who don’t cope with their bullying, if you are not there for people who are bitter because of it, if you are not there for people who are actually the majority in those cases, then don’t pretend to be there for “pure cinnamon rolls who didn’t deserve what happened to them” because you are just a disgusting person who contributes to the problem.

When your mom tells you to stop watching Voltron to go socialize with family

HQ season 2 is so good! I can’t believe OiSuga is finally canon :’)

Bad Reputation

Word Count: 4,787 / Rating: Explicit

Summary: Merlin was just getting to the showers when he heard a noise behind the lockers, it seemed like someone was choking or something, his mind immediately working a mile a minute, trying to remember everything he heard or read about choking, asphyxiations and the like, already planning the best way to help whoever it was, preparing himself to the worst and best case scenario. He could not have prepared himself for that, tough. There was in all his golden glory, Arthur Pendragon, Mr. Posh and Athletic™, down on his knees, choking on some older boy’s cock.

@bottom-arthur

*attempts to drag everyone into hell with me*

I commissioned @kat-doodles to draw my super duper rare OTP, KuguKuni (Kuguri/Kunimi), and I am sooooo incredibly happy with how it turned out!!!!!! They are soft and in love and I have ascended TvT

 [Btw, everyone should commission Kat. She is wonderful and her art is simply amazing <333]

So if Padme is knocked into Obi-Wan’s body, Obi-Wan into Anakin’s and Anakin into Padme’s - we all know that:

A. Padme now knows the benefits of being Force-sensitive and finally understands what’s it all about.

B. Obi-Wan has to deal with a gazillionth amount of Force-sensitivity due to Anakin’s super midichlorian-count.

C. Anakin is left completely Force-blinded, which is a total shock to a guy who used to have the highest Force-sensitivity from every other Jedi.

BUT HE GETS TO BE IN PADME’S BODY SO THIS ARGUMENT IS COMPLETELY INVALID.

Based on this conversation with cadesama and skygawker .
Star Wars fandom, ladies and gentlemen. 

Sherlocked Out

Hey lovlies! This is my first fic, so any cunstructive critisizm is completely welcome!


Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Warnings: Fluffy, language (minor)

Requested: //


(Y/N) trudged through the rain with bags of groceries pulling at her wrists. They were heavy and most awkward to carry. Her hair was wet and it stuck to her face as rain poured down in sheets. And she was tired, walking all the way home because there no cabs out at this time of night. To put it plainly, the situation described was miserable.

This was what (Y/N) and Sherlock Holmes liked to call ‘apology groceries’.

What, you might ask, could (Y/N) have done to deserve the shame of apology groceries? Well, such an act is unspeakable.

Keep reading

I’m sorry, but why does no one ever TALK ABOUT THIS

cas in a skirt (˘︶˘) ♥