there is nothing i want more than your presence my lord and my god

transcript of the speech i gave at Vassar’s black baccalaureate service

Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, honored guests, and the Vassar class of 2017.
Just saying that aloud made me feel old. Class of 2017? Most of y'all were born after dark-skinned Aunt Viv left the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. That’s wild.

I want to first thank you for allowing me to be a part of such a special moment in your lives. I am honored, privileged, and a bit in disbelief that you asked me of all people to give this address. I try not to have feelings, and I’m going to do my best not to cry today, but no promises.

I’m here to stand in the gap between you and your parents and guardians and any other elders in your lives that you stopped listening to because you thought they were wack and out of touch. I remember being in your shoes not TOO long ago, and it is my fervent prayer that something that I say here today will help you avoid some of the mess I went through.
To be honest I’m a little nervous, but I figured there was no way could this be worse than when Betsy DeVos went down to Bethune-Cookman, so let’s get started.

As you transition to life after Vassar the changes will be both inevitable and swift, so I’d like to begin by giving you some well-intentioned advice and warning you about the continued process of becoming an adult.

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anonymous asked:

So uh. I noticed you're kinda naked. Is that intentional, or... ? For Tsuna and Reborn please

“So uh. I noticed you’re kinda naked. Is that intentional, or…?” Tsuna trails off as he huddles in his cocoon of blankets, preparing to go to bed. 

Reborn scoffs. “Your cow brat destroyed my bed, so I’ll be sleeping with you. And I happen to sleep naked. Budge over, Dame-Tsuna.”

Tsuna doesn’t move though. “Maybe I don’t want you in my bed.”

Reborn arches an eyebrow and looks distinctly unimpressed. Tsuna meets his eyes and says nothing.

This is part of their game. Ever since Reborn’s body caught up to where he was before the curse, its been becoming increasingly hard to ignore the weight of his gaze, the way his hands seem to linger just a hair longer than before whenever he touches Tsuna. He’s still Reborn, but the boundaries between them are being subtly prodded into changing once more. This time, in ways Tsuna has no experience in, and has no clue on how to deal with.

So perhaps it says something about the amount of time he’s spent with Reborn that his default idea is playing hard to get. 

“Why not?” Reborn asks, putting a hand on his hip (and nope, Tsuna’s not going to be lured into looking below the chest at all). “You should be honored to have someone like me grace you with my presence. You certainly never seemed to mind when I was small.

“Yes well,” Tsuna points out dryly. “There’s a world of difference between sharing a bed with you as a baby when I was thirteen, and sharing one with you as a grown man now when I’m twenty two.”

Reborn’s gaze darkens, and he looks very much the part of the predator as he tilts his head slightly and utters and quiet “Oh?”

Tsuna has to remind himself to breath after a second, and after swallowing down enough saliva to wet his suddenly very dry mouth, continues. “Well yes. For one, you didn’t hog nearly as many blankets as you probably will now back then. And I refuse to sleep with a blanket hog. So shoo!” And he rolls over, sticking his head under his pillow and praying to whatever gods are available that Reborn takes the hint.

No such luck. A second later the pillow over his head is thrown aside, and Reborn grins down at him, wicked. “Well then, we should snuggle, so we don’t hog blankets, hm?”

Oh no, Tsuna thinks, and a second later he sighs as his blankets are whipped off him, and a warm body wraps itself around him in their stead. The blankets are returned, but the pillow remains gone, a prisoner to Reborn. “There we go,” the man says smugly. “Now isn’t that better?”

Tsuna kind of wants to die a little. While there’s nothing necessarily sexual going on right now, this is rather intimate. Tsuna has very little idea how to deal with intimate as far as Reborn’s concerned. His Guardians? Sure, put him in a snuggle pile with his Guardians any day of the week. Reborn? Not so much.

“Sure,” he says, and turns his back to Reborn, hoping the man will take the clue. He’s used up all his defiance for tonight, and the idea of pushing his luck further results in mental images of Reborn yanking his chain while he blushes and stutters and tries to make himself melt into the floor. “Now go to sleep.”

Except. Except.

Reborn presses himself up against Tsuna’s back, tangling their legs and hooking his chin over Tsuna’s shoulder, arms wrapping themselves around Tsuna’s sides. “Alright,” he purrs. “Goodnight, Tsunayoshi.”

Tsuna says nothing. Reborn drops off after a few moments, but Tsuna doesn’t dare to move. He stays awake until almost two in the morning, when he’s simply too exhausted to stay awake panicking. 

The first thing he hears upon waking is the sound of soft humming. There are fingers, gentle and warm, stroking the back of his neck. Tsuna mumbles nonsense into his pillow, snuggling closer to whichever one of his Guardians has snuck into his bed again. Surely a few more minutes of sleep won’t hurt. It’s Sunday. There’s barely anything to do on Sundays.

The fingers dig into a muscle on his shoulder, and Tsuna positively purrs and arches up into the hand, stretching. Soft laughter meets his actions. “Look at you, all affectionate. After how cruel you were to me last night, I was certain I’d wake up alone.” The fingers dig again, and Tsuna drifts between being almost asleep and almost awake, unsure which way to go. “I should have known you’d be a snuggler.”

“G’t sleep,” Tsuna says to whoever they are. He’s too tired to put a face to the voice, but he knows they’re familiar, and that’s enough for him. “S’nday.”

“So it is.” The body presses closer, and Tsuna rolls over and happily presses closer, letting his own arms wrap around the warm torso, nuzzling into their bare chest. “You’re lucky I’m a patient man, Tsunayoshi, or you’d likely be getting a different kind of wake up call right now.”

Tsuna falls back asleep before whoever the person is can make good on whatever threat they’re making, or whatever the heck they’re talking about. The next time he wakes up he’s alone, and feeling much more rested. He scrubs the sleep from his eyes, takes a warm shower, and then goes downstairs for breakfast. 

“Sleep well?” Reborn asks as he sits down. “I didn’t hog too many blankets, did I?” he snickers at the look on Tsuna’s face.

“Demon,” Tsuna mutters. “Horrible, horrible demon.”

“Now now, let’s not go using such nasty names so early in the morning. You were so sweet to me earlier - let’s go back to that.”

Sweet? Tsuna frowns, wondering what Reborn’s talking abo–

Oh. Oh wait, he…. there was someone in bed with him this morning, wasn’t there?

“You bastard,” he whispers, heat flooding his cheeks as he remembers. Oh dear lord. Reborn’s smirk only makes it that much worse. “You say anything, and I swear I’ll put you in a grave, Reborn!”

“Say anything about what?” Reborn gives his most innocent look. “I didn’t see anything. Certainly didn’t hear anything. What were we talking about again?”

Tsuna isn’t buying it for a second. “One word.”

Reborn just smiles his sunny I’m going to blackmail you so hard smile, and drinks his coffee. 

Gideon

it’s insane that there are people who don’t think Gideon is the embodiment of white. He believes 100% in that which is greater than him- his irregulars, the gatewatch, the boros army, the allies on zendikar, the gods- and fully believes that without the unity and structure of the whole there is no path forward. Gids has been adrift since losing his faith in Theros and getting his spark, and everything he’s done in the story since then has been towards the end of finding and rebuilding that belief in the greater. He’s maybe the perfect essence of White.

And really, i’m tired of listening to folks disparage the idea of being lawful good paladin protector or whatever. it’s tough to give of yourself so much, to put yourself out for little to no reward, simply for the satisfaction of knowing you helped someone else. Gids resonates with me because of his legit selflessness and desire to be the best support structure there is. He’s extroverted, vulnerable (emotionally, not physically), and willing to go to any length in order to make sure the group is happy.

This leads into yesterday’s magic story and a little personal context.

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Honeysuckle

Originally posted by 93kihyun

Character(s): Reader X Kihyun

Genre: royalty!au, smut

Warning(s): sub!kihyun (i tried br0), elements of bdsm, lingerie, degradation

Length: 5K

Summary: In which Kihyun teases you by wearing pretty red lace panties.


Gold and green robes glitter as they cascade down the grand staircase, rippling silk over the sleek, cool marble. Kihyun scratches his nose, squinting as the seamstress eyes him with a contemplative look, the long measuring tape hung over her shoulders.

“Pray tell, your highness, have your limbs always been this short?”

He flushes a bright red, splutters and garbled words spilling from his lips, “I-I am n-not short!”

“Ah, but of course, sire. Forgive me for my audacity.”

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Another Chance

Happy Valentine’s Day @cami-nts I hope you enjoy! - your VSV


Stark white numbers and formulas and words floated about against a blackboard background in Lance’s head, colliding like gas molecules. A cloud of chalk dust flew into his line of sight like a disturbance. Lance thought the dust had a weird voice. He almost felt his brow furrow.

“I said the library’s closing, sir!”

Lance jolted awake, his head flying off the open book where it had landed when he fell asleep. His joints ached and his whole body was stiff. He looked up to see a guard standing over him, glaring somewhat judgmentally.

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Title: I Mean It

Title: I Mean It 
Type: Slight-Angst(????), Fluff
Characters: Reader X Taeyong (ft. Taeil and Haechan/Donghyuck)
Word Count: 2, 287

A/N: Welcome to my first ever Taeyong scenario! Have fun!


Summary: It all started when he accidentally said “I love you”. 

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The Painful Wait. PART 1 (DarylxReader)

Hi guys! I got really bored and came up with this idea of a short Daryl story.


Y/N and Daryl have been close ever since the group took her in when they found her on a supply run. Daryl is extremely overprotective and when the group is attacked by a herd of walkers one night, Daryl gets on her last nerve when he locks her in a cell and refuses to let her help. They get into a huge fight and both of them say some hurtful things. Daryl goes out on a supply run by himself to clear his head, but takes longer than he said he’d be. Days go by and Y/N is a wreck. She can’t stop thinking about their fight and what could’ve been her possible last words to the man she trusts the most. 


(Set in the hiatus between seasons three and four )


Btw guys, requests are open if any of y'all want to dm me for fanfics/one shots/drabble✌🏼


Warnings- strong language, mentions of parental abuse, walker attacks and killings, kind of dirty thoughts and almost smut? mostly fluff & angst tbh

——————————————————————


I woke up. Again. Another night. Another nightmare. Sweat glazes over my brow and my chest is still heaving from the familiar feeling of being drowned. When it all happened… when everyone started to turn, my father didn’t see a way out. He thought it would be better for my sisters and I to die by his hand rather than those of the ‘ungodly undead’. He took me, my little sister Elise and my youngest sister Allie out to the river in our back yard, sat us down and had lunch with us. It was nice. But before I knew it, he had Elise and Allie’s heads under the water. They thrashed and struggled but only for a little while, before their movement halted completely. I was too shocked to move. He looked at me with a glare of madness and despair behind his eyes and lunged towards me. I almost got away the first time around, but he caught my ankle and dragged me backwards. While I was being dragged into the water, I grabbed the bread knife that Dad had brought outside with the rest of the picnic, and as he began to attempt to end my life, I waved the knife around above me in a blind panic until he released my neck and I heard a muffled yelp. I resurfaced and saw my father, helpless and bleeding. The knife had gone straight through his eye socket. 
So, what else could I do but run? I took the bread knife with me for defence against whatever was waiting for me on the outside. 
I lasted a pretty long time by myself. Maybe a year? I don’t know, I lost track of time. But that’s when starvation began to kick in. All the food in the stores had either expired or been stolen. I was the food.
And I sure as hell would’ve been if they hadn’t found me. 
Carl was the first to spot me. It was funny because he was the one who told the others to forget it. Rick and Michonne debated whether they should bring me back to wherever they were going. But amongst all of the debating and arguments, it was Daryl who finally gave in, and quite wisely uttered the words, “fuck it”, taking me in and essentially saving my life.
Ever since, I’ve been part of the family. Carol is like my mom. It’s refreshing, because I don’t remember my real mom all that well. Hershel helped clean me up after they brought me back and has recently been teaching me a load of medical stuff so I can help him out. He struggles, only having a leg and a half. Maggie and Beth support me when I break down. They understand because they’ve lost basically all of their family too. Rick taught me how to shoot and asked me the three all important questions. And Daryl? Daryl and I have been inseparable since.
Anyway, back to now.
Tears stream down my face and I try to get my heart rate back to its regular steady beat. Suddenly, I feel a presence at the door of my cell. It’s Beth, and a wave of comfort washes over me because I know she understands. She gets the nightmares too, you see. About her mom and the rest of her family.

“Hey… Hey, you’re alright…” She coos as she takes a seat on my bunk.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” I ask, wiping away my tears.

“I was already awake and then I heard you, thought I could be of some help. Even though…” she trails off.

“What?” My eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“I know who you really want here.” Beth smirks.

I roll my eyes and giggle a little, as I know exactly what she means. Beth has this fantastical theory that Daryl and I have feelings for each other. I mean, she’s not completely wrong. I’ve developed some feelings for Daryl, being around him 24/7. I haven’t told anyone, not even Beth.

“Shut up, you’re delusional.” I giggle.

“I can go get him if you like? In all seriousness. I know how close you two are and he might do a better job than me.” She offers.

I dwell on the idea for a moment, but I’m soon to deny Beth’s offer when I consider that Daryl had a long day and needs his sleep too. He and Rick barely made it back today.

“No… no, I’ll be okay, it’s unfair on him if he gets woken up because of me. I can’t constantly expect him to wait on me hand and foot every time I have a bad dream. Ain’t right. I’ll just go back to sleep, I’m pretty spent. Thanks anyway, I appreciate it.“ I smile politely.

She returns the smile and begins to walk away, but halts at the door and turns around.

“He likes you, you know. I see the way he looks at you. Haven’t seen anyone look at anybody like that since my Mama was alive. You should seriously talk to him.”

“Beth-”

“Please don’t deny it anymore, Y/N. I can see straight through the both of you.” She smirks and walks away. I fall back, my head hitting the cold pillow and I let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“Fuck.”

The next morning, I take a stroll around, grabbing some water and saying my hello’s to Carol, Maggie, Hershel and Glenn, who are all sitting around a table, taking a break.

“Mornin’ guys.” I yawn.

“You mean afternoon,” Hershel chuckles.

“Honey, mornin’ came and went.” Carol laughs sweetly.

“No sleep?” Glenn asks.

“Not a whole lot, Glenny boy.” I reply, rubbing my eyes.

Maggie laughs at my nickname for her lover and rests her head on his shoulder. Rick walks in, sweating and panting, laughing at god knows what. Probably something Michonne said. If Beth is expecting romance, she should expect it from those two, not Daryl and myself.

“Ah look, the dead has decided to rise.” Rick jokes.

“Nothing new there, then.” I retort.

“Well since you’re finally awake, you can go help Daryl keep watch.” The sound of Daryl’s name lifts my spirits up and a smile graces over my face.

“Gun?” I request.

“Tower.” Rick replies. I nod and follow his order, making my way over to the tower.

I reach the top after climbing countless stairs and see Daryl watching over the prison with his crossbow, pacing and waiting for someone- or something- to even try to make an attempt on us.

“Hey Hawkeye, you miss me?” I say, causing him to jump at first, but his tensed-up posture eases at the sound of my voice.

“You’re awake, thought I’d never see the day.” Daryl smirks.

“Shut your face, Dixon,” I laugh. “Barely got any sleep last night.”

“What? Why?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just another nightmare.” I tell him, knowing exactly what’s coming.

“Why didn’t you come and get me? Or at least come into my cell?” There it is.

“Daryl, you had a rough day yesterday and I wasn’t going to be selfish and wake you up.” I sigh.

“I don’t care, you know I give more shits about you than I do about me and-”

“Daryl!” I cut him off. “I’ll wake you up in future, but you barely made it back alive yesterday. You needed as much rest as possible. Plus, Beth was there, she spoke to me a little and then I went back to sleep, it’s no big deal.”

“I just worry about you, y'know?” Daryl sighs, looking at the ground and awkwardly shuffling his feet.

“And I’m so glad that I have you around.” I step towards him and lift his chin so his eyes meet mine. “But I’m a big girl and I can handle myself. Lord knows I did for a year. You just need to relax a little bit when it comes to me, alright?”

“Yeah, alright. I’m sorry.” He smiles lightly.

We stay stood in that very spot for what seems like endless moments.

Make a move, damnit! Make a move!

“Goddamn it, just bang already!” Beth’s voice yells up to us, breaking our concentration.

I clear my throat and step back, pussying out once again.

“So… Seen anything interesting?” I ask, hoping to God that he doesn’t dwell on Beth’s comments.

“Aside from you? Not a whole lot,” he laughs.

What the fuck, was that flirting? Did he just… don’t overthink it, idiot. It was probably nothing.

“You flatter me, Daryl Dixon, you really do.” I smile gently as a lean against the balcony next to my shotgun.

Daryl continues to look over the yards, watching the fences with his crossbow at the ready. Seeing him like this, so protective and strong… let’s just say I don’t have the cleanest of thoughts. His arms tense every single time he sees movement, making me bite my lip just to control myself from audibly groaning. I can only imagine it would feel to kiss him. How we’d start off slow, then really get into it. How I’d jump up and wrap my legs around his waist and he’d push me up against the wall and move his lips to my neck… sucking, biting as I entangle my fingers in his hair and tug on it because I’m so ridiculously turned on and he’d moan into the kiss… Oh my God, what am I doing? I hate to say it, but Beth’s right. I need to talk to him, because this ain’t healthy in the slightest.

“Hey Daryl?” I say.

“Yeah Darlin’?” He responds.

“Y'ever think about stuff?” I ask.

“I think about a lot of stuff, sugar. Gonna have to elaborate.” He replies, his eyes still locked on the ground.

“Just… I don’t know. Ignore me.” I chuckle.

Suddenly intrigued, Daryl turns his head towards me, a smirk ghosting across his lips.

“Come on now, you know I can’t ignore you if I tried.”

“Stuff like finding peace and whatever. Imagine what it’d be like to be finally happy with where you’re at. Like Glenn and Maggie. They’re happy.” I sigh, looking at the floor and twiddling my thumbs.

“You mean settlin’ down?” I look up and Daryl’s directly in front of me.

“Yeah. Somethin’ like that.” I grin.

Daryl and I patrol the tower for a few more hours, laughing, joking and talking about everything and nothing at the same time until Carl and Beth come to takeover.

Later on, in the evening, I take a book from the library and take it back to my cell, light some candles that Glenn bought back on a run, climb up to the top bunk and relax. I attempt to get comfortable, but the knots in my shoulders prevent me from such a luxury. I rub them slightly and hiss at the aching, just as Daryl walks past my door.

“You good?” He asks, clearly concerned.

“Yeah, it’s just my back, it’s killing me.” I groan.

Daryl wanders into my cell and jumps up onto the top bunk next to me.

“Turn around,” he instructs.

I do as he says and face away from him, taking a deep breath in, trying to stop myself from feeling so damn tense. All of the stress flies away when his calloused hands firmly rub my back and shoulders. I hum in satisfaction and euphoria, my muscles easing under his blissful touch.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I breathe out.

“The least I can do, sugar.” He chuckles.

Amidst the calming aroma of the candles and my mind finally calming itself down, I feel my hair being moved from over my left shoulder to down my back, followed by long, lingering kisses on the side of my neck.

“Daryl…” I moan in a whisper.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Daryl mumbles. “You’re all I think about, darlin’… you’re all I want.” He seductively whispers.

“Oh, fuck it.” I groan, turning around and slamming my lips into his, grabbing at his vest and tearing it off of his torso like a kid opening a gift on Christmas morning.

“God, I need you,” Daryl moans while his hands roam around my body. “We need to be quiet. That is, if you really want this?” He asks, breaking the feverish kiss momentarily to double check that I’m ready and sure.

I brush his hair out of his eyes, and kiss his forehead. “I literally don’t want anything else.”

Daryl’s lips find their way back to mine, and his hands rest at the small of my back, pulling me even closer to him as I straddle his lap.

However, the moment the tips of my fingers reach his belt buckle and he gets my shirt half way up my body, when we hear distressed yelling from downstairs.

“You hear that?” I ask worriedly.

“Walkers! Everyone! Walkers! There’s too many! They broke through!” Carl’s voice echoes through the halls, troubling everyone. The sound of rushing and panic already rings through the prison.
Daryl and I spring into action, leaping off of the top bunk and re-clothing. I blow out the candles and grab my gun, but to my dismay, I hear the dreaded sound of a lock and key. I spin around to see that Daryl has locked me in my cell, leaving me completely helpless.

“Daryl? Daryl, what the fuck! Let me out!” I shout after running up to the cell door and grabbing onto the bars.

“I ain’t risking you getting hurt, Y/N. You’re staying here, end of discussion.” He orders.

“Bullshit! Let me out right now, you son of a bitch!” I yell, shaking the door.

“You need to be quiet!” He snarls through gritted teeth.

“Daryl don’t do this… either you let me out or you stay in here with me. It’s both of us out there or neither. I can’t lose you.” I begin to sob.

“I have to go…” he murmurs, puts my cell’s key in his pocket and runs off to fight.

“Daryl! Daryl, stop! Fuck!” I scream, falling to my knees.

And that’s it. I’m alone. All alone. Not for long though, as I hear the horrifically familiar sound of the throaty moans of Walkers. I immediately rush to my gun and start shooting at the floor below, hitting every Walker that manages to make its way past the threshold. However, even though I manage to kill multiples of them, I run out of rounds and the shots have attracted many more towards me. With nothing sharp or long enough to do enough damage to the brain in my cell, I have no choice but to sit away from the barred door and press my back to the wall as the bloodthirsty undead reach hungrily for my uninfected flesh. I can’t even try to be brave, as if I get close to them, one of them could scratch me and that would be it for little old me.
Moments later, the growling and grunting comes to a sudden halt. I look up from my huddled form to find Rick kicking bodies away from my cell.

“The hell are you doin’ in here!?” Rick yells. Rage sets in as I remember the very reason I’ve been stuck in this god forsaken room while my family risked their lives.

“Ask fucking Daryl, he’s the one who locked me in!” I bellow.

“Goddamn it… where’s the key?”

“Daryl put it in his pocket.” I grumble, sitting on the bottom bunk, attempting to calm myself down so I don’t beat Daryl’s ass when I see him. After a few moments, I hear a key enter the lock of my cell door and anger takes over again until I realise that its in fact Maggie and not Daryl.

“Maggie, are you alright? Is everyone okay?” My rage is blindsided my frantic worry and panic.

“We all made it, we’re okay. Sasha got a little winded, but she’s good,” Maggie finally gets the door open. “Now, before you do anything rash-”

I cut her off mid-sentence by pushing past her and rushing to Daryl to have some damn words.

I spot him walking back up to the building with Glenn, and once more, my temper sets off, causing me to run at him with everything I have. I almost get to him before Rick and Michonne hold me back, preventing me from doing any damage.

“You fucker! How fucking could you!? You asshole, you made me sit and wait while everyone else could’ve been dying!” I shriek.

“I was protecting you!” He yells back in defence.

“Protecting me!? I don’t give a damn about me!”

“But I do!” Daryl cries out, my anger subsiding for a moment.

“Let me go.” I whisper to Michonne and Rick.

“You sure?” Rick asks.

“Do we need to stay close so you don’t go bat shit again?” Michonne offers. Normally I’d laugh, but she’s right.

“No. I won’t hurt him, we just need to talk.” I sigh.

The others begin to walk away, and I swear I hear Glenn make a remark wishing Daryl luck.

“What… what the fuck was that?” My voice is shaky because I’m trying so hard to keep back my frustration.

“I wasn’t about to let you get hurt, damn it!” Daryl exclaims.

“Not fucking cool, Dixon. I had every right to be out here with the rest of you, but you forced me to wait. I’m so sick of you being so damn overprotective. It’s suffocating.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so fucking reckless, I wouldn’t need to be!” He argues.

“Reckless? Are you fucking kidding me? Honestly, Daryl? I care about you, but sometimes I want to fucking shoot you.” I growl.

“Yeah? Do it. Go for it, tough guy.”

“Screw you, Dixon.” I hold back tears, both angry and heartbroken.

“You’re a damn child, y'know that? Juvenile, even.”

“Go to hell, asshole.” I scoff and storm back to the prison.

When I reach the doors, Beth is the first to rush over to me. I’d say Beth is my best friend. I love all of these guys with everything I have, but Beth is truly like my little sister.

“What happened?” Beth queries, obviously worried.

“I don’t… I can’t… please don’t make me talk about it,” I sob.

“Come on, let’s go to my room, you can stay in there tonight.” Beth kindly offers, followed by my appreciative acceptance.

The following morning, I get up early and help Hershel clean up some left over group members with some head wounds and some infected cuts, only after he asks if I’m okay. I just simply nod and tell him I’m over it, which is clearly a lie, but I can see that he doesn’t want to intrude.
When we’re finished up, I ask Rick if I can help out in anyway, but he just tells me to relax because ‘he’s never seen me so unhinged’. Mr Grimes ain’t one for sugar coating.
I return to my cell and pick up the book I fetched from the library last night and continue from where I stopped. And to think I stopped because of something that could’ve completely changed the course of today. My mind wanders back to last night, reminiscing about how his hands felt like electricity on my skin, how his lips were perfectly moulded to fit with mine, how warm he was… how safe he made me feel.
Carol appears at my doorway with a sweet smile and a cup of water in her hand.

“How ya doin’?” She asks and hands me the water.

“I’m alright, I guess. Just feelin’ kinda shitty after the whole thing with me and Daryl last night. Feel kinda bad about what I said to him. Told him to go hell.” I say, almost ashamed of myself.

“Sweetheart, if I know you and Daryl, and believe me I do, you’ll be just fine. You must’ve had good reason to say those things. And plus, he’ll get over it. It is Daryl after all. The man can’t hold a grudge.” She laughs.

“I guess so. I should probably talk to him, shouldn’t I?” I sigh.

“Damn straight. He’ll be back later, I’ll tell everyone to give you some alone time.”

“Wait… he’ll be back? Where did he go?” I ask.

“He went on a supply run. Said he needed to clear his thoughts.” Carol answers.

“Who’s he with?”

“He went by himself.”

The words echo through my mind like a train in a tunnel. How could anyone let him go by himself? Especially when he’s in this kind of state?

“I need to go out and find him. He can’t be alone right now, anything could happen, I have to go-”

“Y/N, calm down! Daryl is perfectly capable of handling himself. He’ll back back real soon. I promise.”

A part of me wants to believe Carol, it really does.
But the logical side of me doesn’t believe a damn word.

Later on, outside the tavern …

***

The sudden cold night air felt like a slap on his face, a cool breeze mercilessly stealing away the last remnants of warmth from his body.

Lefou sighed.

As the cold wasn’t enough, he was being nearly crashed to the ground under the heavy weight of Gaston’s body.
As it seemed, the man was more than just a little tipsy, and now leaned heavily on his friend, one arm around his shoulders and Lefou’s hand on his waist.

“Come on then” he said, beginning to half walk and half drag Gaston. Who wasn’t helping at all.
The bigger man seemed quite content to be draped upon his friend like a giant bear fur and do absolutely nothing to easy things a bit.

“Could you at least try and move your legs? A little help would be appreciated, you know” panted Lefou after a few steps.
At this rate they would be at Gaston’s house not even at dawn.

“Mmmh, ’s nice this” was the only comment from Gaston.

Picturing all the roads and turns from the tavern to the house was currently keeping Lefou’s mind busy. He couldn’t afford now to have his thoughts wandering towards alluring and dangerous paths. A path in particular which lead in a barely lit tavern and directly within the warm embrace of Gaston.

The man was like a furnace, he probably wasn’t even feeling the cold air on him–he was just that hot. Lefou chuckled aloud at his own thought. Gaston was truly hot in every sense of the word.

He stopped to regain his breath. Dear lord, he didn’t think he could make it anymore; the day had been far more stressing than normal, what with them returning home after years away and then running around all morning without a little rest, and seriously, after all that, to take Gaston back to his house was a titanic quest he had not planned for. Mostly because not even ten minutes ago Gaston stood and walked on his own perfectly fine.
He stilled.

Oh for the love of…!

“Wait a minute.”

He heard a deep rumble and felt Gaston shaking against him. Then he burst into a vibrant laughter that broke the stillness of the dark town around them.

“So you got me there, Lefou!” he said in between laughs.

Lefou pushed him back with an elbow.
“You utter! How!” his mind couldn’t even conjure some sensible sentence so much he was taken aback.

Really, this day has been neverending and the night just kept on becoming weirder and weirder. What Gaston was playing at tonight?!

“Why did you do that! You’re not actually drunk!”

Gaston stood against the starlight in all of his perfect glory. He passed a hand through his black hair and straightened his jacket. He crossed his arms and cocked his head.

“Well my dear, I thought you knew better. You know I hold my liquor better than anyone else.”

Lefou just stared at him dumbfounded.

After all their years together he didn’t get used to Gaston’s powerful stance and handsome appearance yet.
It’s like he’s some sort of potent magnet that inevitably attracts every single look on himself. He’s like a bright star at the center of chaos, a vengeful star of fire that captures every creature within his orbit. So women threw their dignity away in favor of throwing themselves at him instead; and men looked up to him like he was a gift from the gods.

For Lefou, Gaston was all that and so much more. People don’t really know Gaston like he does. For instance, people don’t get to see Gaston laughing with so much mirth in his eyes like he’s doing now.

Despite his growing annoyance and confusion, Lefou did feel lucky to be allowed to experience a side of Gaston that was hidden to everyone else. For the sake of appearances and self-love though, he glared at the taller man.

Gaston lift graciously an eyebrow and smirked at him, showing brilliant white teeth.

“Did you maybe wanted to see how long it’d take for me to end up flat on the ground crushed under your –how did you put it? your barge-like weight?”

Gaston barked another heartfelt laugh at that and Lefou found himself smiling.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy the extra warmth though” he said, putting his arm around the shorter man and pulling him against him.

Lefou’s cheeks turned an intense shade of crimson. Gaston just gave voice to his previous thoughts without even knowing it.
He was in a teasing mood, just another one of their good-natured banters, the easy camaraderie between the two of them.

Only that tonight it seemed the man couldn’t keep his hands off him.
Gaston has always been a very physical man. He liked to assert his presence through his fiery countenance and show off his large body looming over the unfortunate soul who happened to cross him. Without mentioning his exploits with women.

Lefou’s heart beat so loudly against his chest that he couldn’t even hear his own thoughts. Gaston started walking down the road, forcing Lefou’s legs to function properly. He tentatively slid his arm on Gaston’s back while the man tugged him closer still.

Lefou sighed.

He was walking on sunshine.

Still, confusion won the battle within himself.

“Gaston what are you doing? I mean, why pretend to be drunk?” He didn’t understand.

Gaston stared at him, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Just testing a theory of mine.”


***

( Part 1)

wanna chat? pt.20

on ao3
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

i’m not dead yet but i’m v close

eponine = alya
enjolras = marinette
grantaire = nino
marius = adrien

enjoy


13:04

eponine: dont listen to marinette

enjolras: Ummm????
LIsten to Marinette

eponine: no fuck u

enjolras: :P

grantaire: ????????
what did you do  

eponine: NOTHI N G

enjolras: She tried to chase Chat after the akuma attack and almost fell in the Seine 

Keep reading

Love me like you do (Part 1)

Here it is!!! Now, it’s just the intro so don’t expect much lol But, it’ll get there. I took many creative liberties sooooo….yeah. I don’t know how long this will be but I don’t intend to make it ridiculously so. It’s a simple plot, with romance. Just enough to write a few parts and a smut. Hope you enjoy!!!


*****

Originally posted by frankenanda666


“You could just quit.”


You rolled your eyes at your friend, smiling softly as she tried to explain your own issues to you. As if she had the answer to everything and a single wave of her hand would fix it all. You admired her spirit though, and truthfully you needed the vote of confidence right now. Work was getting rather hectic lately, and your courses weren’t any better. A simple vacation was what you wanted but as every day ticked by you realized it wouldn’t be coming.

“Yes. Quit and then go into debt. Sounds perfect.”

It was a dark joke, but she seemed to catch on. She playfully pushed your shoulder, taking a few steps ahead as she saw her bus stop.

“Well, I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

She waved behind her as she ran off, cursing when she noticed the bus approaching. It was an amusing sight, and you chuckled quietly to yourself.

“Well….guess I’ll call it a night.”

You stuffed your work apron back into your bag, rubbing a hand over your messy hair as you headed down the sidewalk towards your apartment. It was late at night, and your body was just begging for a warm bath and then a really long nap. You turned the corner of the postal office at the end of the street, smiling at a young man who was leaning against the wall casually. He seemed preoccupied with his cigarette, and without a second thought you walked passed him, no sense of danger going off in your mind.

With heavy steps you walked down the ramp that led into the apartment complex, pulling your bag up further on your shoulder. There was a sudden feeling inside you, like your instincts were beginning to kick in and as you approached your door you stopped. With a quick turn of your head you met the face of the man who was outside the post office earlier, his features hidden under the hood of his sweatshirt. You jerked back, almost falling on your behind as he inched closer.

“Get the hell away from me!”

You swung your bag into the air, narrowly missing him. He hardly seemed phased by your outburst, and with the oddest of laughs he just moved closer to you.

“Now now, girl. Just relax, this will all be over in a second.”

Your senses began to heighten, and with every beat of your heart you wanted nothing more than to escape this situation. Your eyes scanned the area around you, but no clear exit was seen.

“What do you want? Money? Take my bag! Take whatever you want!”

The young man just laughed at your offer, grabbing your bag roughly from your hands and tossing it aside.

“We’ve got bigger plans for you.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion, wondering what he meant by ‘we’. Were there others waiting by for more sinister reasons? Just as you moved to ask him, a loud scream caught your attention and you looked to your left to see your neighbor rushing out of her apartment, an almost translucent being rushing after her. If someone had told you earlier today that you’d spend your night watching someone run from, what you could only describe as an alien, you’d call them a liar and bet your job on it.

“Oh my god…”

Your words came out weak, almost strained as you backed away and up against the brick wall. There was no way any of this was real, and as you glanced around the complex the screams began to grow silent, numerous beams of light flashing along the windows and shooting high into the sky to some unknown place.

“Like I said….relax.”

The young man grinned evilly at you, holding up some sort of gun and pointing it towards your neck. Before you could respond everything around you went pitch black, and the only thing you felt was the lightness of your own body.


*****

“Get everything in order. Lord Balem will be making an appearance soon. Wants to ensure his harvest was more than bountiful this time.”

It was a voice that stirred you from your sleep, a soft tone, almost nasally and it was certainly a voice you hadn’t recognized. With shaky hands you pushed yourself up, exhaustion clouding your mind. Everything around you felt foggy, and as you tried to adjust your eyes to the darkness you heard the sounds of many sobbing somewhere in the distance.

“Ah…”

You hugged your side, feeling drained of all your strength and with as much effort as you could muster you turned onto your back. The floor was cold beneath you, and the ceiling above seemed endless as you stared up at it. It was clear wherever this was, it wasn’t some run of the mill trafficking center. The walls were adorned with gold markings, marble gracing the tiled floor and every little thing had the most minute details to it. Yet, the sound of those crying filled the halls, no doubt the sobs of those just as panicked as you were.

“Keep them sedated, we don’t want a repeat of last time.”

You could hear the many voices carrying down the hallways outside, the shadow of people passing by the door of your prison making you grow more nervous. None of this made any sense, and as far as you could tell you had no idea what or where this place even was. But, one thing was obvious to you, you couldn’t stay here. If the screams of others was anything to go by, whoever had taken you did not mean you well.

You scooted back into the wall, curling your legs to your chest and biting on your nail in thought. How could you possibly fight back against these…beings? You knew nothing of them, in fact you didn’t even know they existed until today. As far as you were concerned you were as good as dead if they walked in here right now.

The cries from the others in the area slowly died down, and an eerie silence seeped through the halls. The only noise was that of footsteps, and you waited patiently until the door to your prison creaked open. Light flooded the room, sparkling against the gold embedded in the walls and you made out the large shadow of some creature standing at the exit.

It stood tall, bulky, and it’s breathing sounded close to a loud vibration. It’s very presence made your skin crawl, and as you tried to scoot back further into the vast room it just neared your position with a loud chuckle.

“If you resist, I’ll make this even more painful.”

As it stepped into the light it’s features grew more apparent and an audible gasp left your lips when it came into full view. This creature stood twice your height, maybe more, and its body was that of a reptile, large and scaly with massive wings that were tucked safely behind its back. It wasted no time in crossing over towards you, extending its clawed hand and grabbing you roughly. It lifted you up, your boots rising from the floor as it carried you off towards the outside. You struggled against its strong grasp, kicking your legs and screaming at it to release you.

“I said let me go!!!”

It’s laugh reverberated around the room, making you shake in fear. “You’re feistier than the others, girl. It’s almost admirable.”

“What did you do to them?”

Despite your fears you had to ask, because most of the people they took were your friends or acquaintances. They had families, lovers, a life they needed to get back to.

The lizard creature just scoffed at your question, gripping the collar of your shirt tighter, almost choking the life from you. You clawed effortlessly at its arm, nails scraping into the black overcoat it wore. It wasn’t phased by your fight as it moved to get a better hold of you, and as it reached forward you kicked it hard in the face, the heel of your boot scratching into its teeth. It dropped you onto the ground, the fall knocking the wind out of you.

“Ahh!” The creature growled out in rage, shaking its large head and sneering over at you. With frantic movements you crawled back against the floor, hands slipping against the smooth surface. You could venture a guess as to how this would end, and the only image you could conjure was that of your lifeless body hanging from its jaws.

“I sincerely hope this isn’t another one of your mistakes, Mr.Tskalikin.”

You stopped in your attempts to escape, mouth going dry as the sound of a silvery voice rang through the never ending hall. The lizard creature stilled too, reptilian eyes looking up in fear as it met those of the man standing behind you. At least that’s what you guessed it was, your back was pressed firmly against a sturdy figure, and as you trailed your eyes down you noticed the ornate tops of black boots.

“Lord Balem…forgive me, I-”


“You what?”

The man’s voice was soft, yet strained at some points. As if he struggled to keep his true emotions in check. Against your better judgments you glanced up, holding your breath as you found yourself sitting at the legs of a tall, lean man. He was clad in all black, a long silky cape billowing behind him. He wore a high collar, adorned with many gold jewels that was the very picture of royalty. It was plain to see that he was in charge here, even if he stood feet shorter than the creature who attacked you. His demeanor spoke volumes and there was an air of confidence around him that even made you sit back in awe.

“I’ve given you more than enough chances, haven’t I? Mr. Tskalikin?”

The creature opened its mouth, too afraid to say anything as it backed away from its master. But, it wasn’t quick enough it would seem. The guards surrounding the regal man lifted their guns, awaiting his command and with the most graceful of movements he gave a simple wave of his hand.

You closed your eyes as the flashes from their guns flew forward, the creature’s cries of pain probing into your memories forever. You curled back into the man’s legs, trying to calm your heart as the execution came to a close.

The guards began to lower their weapons, going back into formation behind their lord as they awaited his next movement. He grabbed the edge of his cape, flipping it forward and laying it halfway over his arm as he looked down at you lying pathetically at his feet.


****


Till next time~

The King and the Lionheart

Requested? Yes. “Can I have a Robb Stark imagine? It doesn’t matter what to the prompt is honestly, maybe just have super angst? I’m just glad to find someone that does Game of Thrones imagines honestly :)”

A/N: I wrote this at school so I’m sorry this sucks!!!! It’s my first Robb imagine so please give me some feedback on it! Hope you like it! 

Pairing: Robb Stark x Female Reader

Warnings: mentions of rape, angst, blood, violence, death and lots and lots of FLUFF.

Prompt: You are betrothed to Robb, but he doesn’t want you because you’re a Lannister. He claims you are a lion, not a wolf. And he could never allow himself to love a lion. At least, that’s what he thinks.

Word count: 1616, someone got excited…


Of course your father was going to do this, you didn’t expect anything different. Tywin was desperate to sell his younger - and unmarried - daughter. You knew you were soon to be betrothed to some lord or prince, you just didn’t expect to be betrothed to him.

“Father you have to be out of your mind! He’s gonna hate me, he’s a Stark!” You pleaded. “Please marry me to anyone but him, please father, anyone!”

Your father always claimed you were his favourite, you were the only kind Lannister who owned a soft heart in all Westeros, you thought he would at least marry you to a kind man.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I must marry you to the eldest Stark, I’m sure he will be a great husband to you. I personally dislike them but unfortunately, it’s the best for our realm and for our family. I heard he’s more of a Tully, if you understand me. Please, relax and let’s not discuss about this anymore, you will marry Robb.” His words, final.

You and Robb didn’t talk much, your wedding ceremony had just ended and you were officially a Stark. He didn’t seem to like you, he gave you cold glares and only talked to you when necessary. More of a Tully my ass, you thought.

You and Robb married in Winterfell, the cold weather seemed to soften with your presence, allowing you to dress beautifully for the occasion, but he didn’t seem to mind how you looked, and unfortunately you couldn’t help but feel upset about it. He was handsome and kind to everyone, well, everyone but you, and you wanted him to like you, the way you were starting to like him.

After the ceremony, you and Robb went to bed, you undressed him slowly and put his sleeping clothes while he observed you calmly. You were already in your sleeping dress and you both laid on each side and put the covers on. You observed how inside the room everything was much warmer, the hot water that ran down the walls and the amount of blankets kept you perfectly warm and you thanked the Gods for that. Winterfell was surely the coldest place you’ve ever been to and you would have to get used to it, but thankfully your new house was warm enough.

You kept observing your surroundings when something called your attention, Robb observed you.

“Why did you opt for marrying in Winterfell instead of Kingslanding?” He shortly asked, his northern accent thick. That was your wedding gift from your brother Jaimie, he made sure you would get married wherever you wanted and you chose Winterfell, your new home.

“I thought that since I was soon to become a Stark, I should get married in my future home, get used to the area.” You said softly, surprised he was even paying any attention to you, but of course, nothing is perfect.

“You’ll never be a Stark.” He brutally said, almost spitting those words. “You can be one legally, but you will always have the Lannister blood, you will always be a lion, never a wolf. And wolfs hate lions.” And with that he turned to the other side, not waiting for an answer. 

You felt like crying, you felt like running back to your family in Kingslanding - they were cold blooded, full of anger and hate, but they loved you too much to be any less than kind to you. Even Cersei was a doll to you - you suddenly missed the sun and the gardens in your previous home, you went to sleep with a broken heart and wet cheeks.

Robb heard you quietly softening your sobs on the pillow as he felt his heart break as well, he didn’t want to hurt you, but he just couldn’t accept the fact he didn’t absolutely hate you, that he fancied you and knew you liked him back; he wanted you to hate him, so he could hate you. His Stark pride was too strong for him to let himself fall for a Lannister.


As time went by Robb became softer around you, he knew it was useless to fight, you were so sweet and kind to him no matter how rude he was to you, he couldn’t help himself but melt onto your loveliness. He still gave you cold glares and tried his best not to talk to you, but when he did, he wasn’t rude. Which was a start.

He still didn’t apologise for what he said on your wedding day, and you were still sad about it, every time he was kind you were reminded of his previous words, you could never be loved by him, he was just nice to you out of pity. But you kept being kind, he was your husband after all, you preferred to live in a nice ambient than in a full of tension one.

Robb went hunting after breakfast, kissing your forehead lightly and staring warmly at you before leaving. You went to the market shortly after him, but on the way you were stopped by a group of hungry men, who felt no mercy for you and dragged you to the nearest alleyway. No one around, they started trying to undress you. They were going to hurt you and you knew you couldn’t fight them all. You kicked and screamed but no one seemed to hear, “Stop moving, bitch” one of them shouted at you, hitting your cheek. 

Then your stomach, and then your legs. After a while you just stopped feeling, you just concentrated on the taste of blood inside your mouth as you tried to breathe and scream. “Forget her she’s screaming too loud, someone’s gonna get us.” A blond man warned. They decided that if they freed you, you would tell on them so they figured they should kill you, to please “everyone.”

They all held you on the snow while one of them came behind you and placed a knife on your throat. That was it then. 

The snow already crimson from your blood, you closed your eyes tight, hoping it would be soon over. You thought of how happy Robb would be if he could marry again, someone that wasn’t a Lannister, and you stopped fighting, waiting for death.

You felt blood splashing on your face, it was warm, certainly a different feeling. However, the pain never came. Is that how it felt? Is that how it feels to die? Numbness? It didn’t make sense, you tried opening your eyes but all you saw were dead bodies, all the men, dead. The blood wasn’t yours, it was theirs. You were alive.

Instantly you felt two arms wrap around you as you felt yourself falling, dizziness blurring your vision, but you would recognise that smell anywhere. Robb. He saved you. You were too weak to ask why, you saw his face in front of you as he held you close, immediately reaching for his curls, feeling their softness, wanting to make sure you could still feel, if you were really alive and this wasn’t paradise. 

“My love, you’re so hurt, I shouldn’t have left you by yourself like this I’m so sorry” He was desperate, holding your face and forcing you to keep your eyes open. “I’m so, so sorry, my little lion, you’re going to be alright, okay? I promise you, we will be alright.” He said, more to himself, pleading the Gods you would be perfectly fine in only a few days. The pet name gave you some strength, a lion? No, you wanted to be a wolf.

“I thought- I wish I was a wolf.” You said softly, almost choking in your own blood. It made him frown. “Maybe you would love me if I was a wolf, wouldn’t you my Lord? Wolfs can’t love lions so you can’t love me. I guess this was- this was supposed to happen. So you can marry someone who can truly be a Stark of Winterfell.” You said sadly, understanding why this was happening to you.

He shook his head negatively, softening completely, looking at you so lovingly it seemed you were in cloud 9. You traced your shaking fingers through his cheeks, feeling his beard and how his face seemed wet, and it wasn’t the blood from the men.

“I never meant that, my love, you should know I never meant it. I was a coward, afraid of how good you were to me. Listen, baby- I’m going to make up for it but you have to breathe for me, alright? Those were all lies- you are a lion and that’s just how I want you, that’s just how I need you to be. I don’t need a wolf, I need you, my little lion, and I love you…I love you, I love you- I don’t care about anything else, I love you.” He kept repeating it over and over again, he needed you to believe in him, he needed you to be yourself and he needed you alive. “Please, don’t you die on me, love, I didn’t love you properly yet and I intend to.”

He was sat on the snow with you laid on his chest as he rocked back and forth, in a soothing pace. He held you so gently yet so tight you felt this could be really paradise. Caressing your hair as he repeated how much he loved you - his queen, his lady, his lion - you knew you were going to live. And as your nose bled on his warm chest, your muscles sore from the fight, you were happy, your heart had stopped hurting.


If you liked this, check my masterlist to read my other one shots ♡

You can read part 2 here.

Part 48 - The Final Rose

Down the Voltage Rabbit Hole is an ongoing story about our MC, who could easily be anyone in voltage fandom. She woke up in hospital bed only to discover that she’d somehow been transported Voltage universe.

This story is ongoing, so if you missed a part, or are new to the story, please use the link to the masterpost below to catch yourself up:

https://tinyurl.com/k4rrxna

Part 48 - The Final Rose

I waited anxiously for his arrival as I paced in yet another luxurious suite.

It’s fair to say that as hard as the breakups had been, not knowing if he’d agree to come back with me was far more nerve wracking than anything I’d ever dealt with in my life. 

Keep reading

CARRION CALL FOR THE ARSONIST (slbp fic)

Written by @viridian99 edited by @jemchew

I whispered filthy words of encouragement into her ear, drawing her attention to the little lord’s flushed peachy cheeks, the cherry lips, the utterly debauched yet innocent look those summer sky eyes were giving us. I drew her attention to his long lashes casting shadows on his dusky cheeks, lips bitten between strong teeth to strangle a groan under Shingen’s ministrations. 


The damned tiger knew what he was doing. 


He threw a smirk at us. Seven hells. He was goading us, goading me. Make your choice, his eyes mocked. How could I? I was wrecked with turmoil. Shingen had grown tired of the waltz the three of us danced around each other and decided to take matters into his own hands. 


I chuckled inwardly at the irony of the situation and threw back a defiant look, a smirk for a smirk. I bent down and licked the shell of the little lady’s ear without breaking eye contact. He purred and languidly threw a powerful thigh over Yukimura’s squirming hips, accidentally brushing the bulge growing there. 


When it came to the Tiger of Kai very little was an accident.
A loud keening sound was wrenched out of the little lord’s mouth, his eyes locked with mine, pleading in desperation. It drew an answering moaning gasp from the little lady. I lowered my voice and kept whispering filthy nothings into the little lady’s ears. 


“Yes. Look at him, the pretty little lord. Look at those beautifully sculpted muscles, the trail of goose bumps and raised hair left in trail of Shingen’s teasing hands as he strokes his chest. ” I whispered in her ears hoarsly. Tonight I was playing at being the devils’ advocate.


His fingers circled Yukimura’s pert nipples, eliciting a mewling protest and more squirming. Yukimura gazed worshipfully at his ooyakata sama, the haze of lust and alcohol turning the clear summer sky eyes cloudy. Shingen threw his head back and laughed. It rang cruelly in my ears. He kept sipping his sake nonchalantly and stroking down Yukimuras’ abdomen, his muscles clenching visibly under Shingens’ expert touch. The tiger kept throwing challenging looks at us. 


He removed his restraining leg from Yukimura and said, “There now, you have to show us how much of a man you are, my boy.” In an instant he was up and climbing on top of Shingen’s lap intending to tackle him. Foolish little lord, this was no wrestling match. Shingen flipped him casually with one hand like an afterthought and restrained him again, resuming his stroking, but this time at his exposed thighs. “You have a long way to go, cub,” he chuckled. 


I took a strawberry and put it in the little lady’s hand. “Don’t you want to crush it between his lips in your hands and lick the juices as they move down, little lady? Suck his lips and bite them? Suckle his tongue until he is a moaning mess? Don’t you want to see him fall apart? See those eyes look at you in desperation?” I moved my hands up her shoulder and stroked her arms rhythmically. She trembled under my touch just as Yukimura did under Shingen’s. 


Gods, I wanted to replace Shingen’s hand with my own. Instead I stoked her swollen breasts and she squirmed and moaned wantonly, mirroring the little lord. Oh, how they fit each other. These creatures of light. Summer and spring. They were made for each other. Apollo and Aphrodite. If Shingen was made of flame and fire, the mighty Vulcan, then Yukimura was the sunlight like Apollo, and she was his Venus and Hera wrapped in one and I, the Hades of the group, had no right to be here. She was no Persephone to bring spring to the underworld.


So I gave her a push and she moved to the little lord as if in a daze. Shingen moved aside and continued sipping his sake, regarding the tableau unfolding in front of him with a mischievous look, as if saying my work here was done. 


Oh, you bastard. You set fire to us and now you want to sit back and enjoy the flames going down. Damned if these flames don’t bring you down too. 


My notorious poker face would not give way to my true feelings. I placed a strawberry in Yukimura’s lips, uncharacteristically docile and completely at our mercy. Had Shingen slipped him something? I would not put it beyond him. I guided the little lady’s hand to crush the strawberry, and the juices cascaded down Yukimura’s lips and coated my fingers. 


I made to withdraw my hand. 


Then, all at once, the little lady flipped the tables on me. She grasped my hand and licked my fingers softly, sucking the juices off of them and I froze instantly, paralysed, as if struck by lightning, unable to move away. She gazed at me seductively under her lashes. Well done, little lady, you are a quick learner, I almost applauded out loud. Instead I looked at the little lord gazing rapturously at his goddess. I knew it in my bones that if I asked they would both accept me into their world of sunlight with arms wide open. I threaded my hands through my little lord’s impossibly soft hair and the other hand through the little lady’s long locks in benediction, as if blessing this union, and brought their heads together. 


They needed no encouragement. 


The little lady crushed the strawberry in between Yukimura’s lips and sucked at them, licking the juices escaping from the sides of his mouth. Shingen snorted, apparently not amused at the farce unfolding in front of him. Yukimura’s hands moved to her waist as they ground against each other, increasingly unaware of their surroundings. Another moment and I was sure Yukimura would have the little lady flipped under him. 


I got up to leave. My job here was done. Sliding open the door I moved to stand on the veranda, my back turned to the house on fire I just exited. 


“Didn’t take you for a coward, Saizo. They would accept you. The both of them. All of you,” the Tiger remarked quietly. “Would you walk away?”


“Anything is possible,” I answered non-commitaly and stepped out into the frigid rain. I hated the rain. It did nothing to douse the fire raging inside me. 


In my hubris I called myself Hades. The truth was sadder. I was nothing but Chiron, payed six pence to row people to the after life. I needed a lesson in humility. This was as good as any kick in the gut I would get. I had a suspicion that I would walk with a knife in my heart (if I ever did possess such an appendage) for the rest of my life. No regrets, no apologies. 


There is no crime if you have no regrets.


This was my mantra since forever. What happened to me? I gave up any claim to the last vestiges of light inside me. I squelched it with my own blood sullied hands. In the distance I could hear the crow cawing. The carrion call, I thought ironically. How fitting considering the occasion. I killed all my life, without regret and remorse. I carried the ghosts of the dead with me. Today it felt as if I carried a dead body inside of my very core. Was it a tomb or a shrine? Did it really matter? It was dedicated to my beloved Apollo and Aphrodite. My sun, and home, and hearth and love.


Yes, maybe I was no better than a vulture. Feeding on the dead and dying. I became synonymous with carrion. Or was it a cadaver when applied to humans? But then I am no longer human. Not any more. I had no right to be with the living. I was soaked to the bone in the rain and yet the raging storm inside me had yet to quiet down. I never felt so empty and defeated in my life. Rationality explained my decision as the optimal course for the two most beloved people in my life. Yet why did I have this unfathomable feeling of sorrow? Why this yearning that once, just once, if either of them had laid a hand on my arm and stopped me from leaving; if either of them had called out my name and asked me to stay; would I have stayed? Had I stayed on my own my presence would have been welcomed, but was I not actively desired by them? 


I raised my head to look at the pitch dark sky. The rain was freezing cold but why was hot rain streaking down my face? I hadn’t cried in ages. Standing here in the frigid rain, it was easy to let the tears cascade down my face and have it camouflaged by the downpour. My regret, my repentance, the blood I shed, all of it chipping at my soul. As always when it rained I ran away from the regrets I carried, not as ghosts but as very real burdens, alive and breathing, perhaps even more alive than my own being. An irony since a moment ago I convinced myself I committed no crimes, ergo I was free of regrets. 


I should have been free. 


My whole life I lived in this dichotomy. Torn by my duality. Tonight’s handiwork gives no solace to me. There is no absolution for cowards like me. I am forever doomed to scratch at my scabs and drown myself in the pain whenever I wish to feel alive. To feel any semblance of something. That is my curse, my cross to carry for all my days; the tomb I carry inside me, inside of my darkness, where I find the shrine in memory of their sunlight, and the knife in my heart, and all remnants of the person I was. 


A new version of myself had to be born today.I needed some time to myself. Perhaps take up a bloody and violent mission from the village. The normalcy of killing, of taking away life, of watching blood flow and seep through my hands might restore some balance to my world, bring sanity to my mind. 


A sneaking voice whispered a wish for death to take me on one of my missions, so that next time, instead of being Chiron, maybe, just maybe, I would be the one rowed across the river styx after paying my six coins.But will six coins be enough to pay my dues?


——————


Standing on the veranda, Shingen watches as the Lord Assassin melts into the dark. “Maybe I shouldn’t have meddled,” he murmurs under his breath. He turns to look at the pair in the room entwined in rapture and slides the door shut on them, feet echoing woefully into the night.

Long Live the Queen (M) Pt. 2

Pt 1 Pt 3  Pt 4

Trailer 

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: Rated M for possibly mature themes in future updates, probably smut, swearing, murder, violence. I might get a little crazy with this

Summary: Jungkook’s name on the streets is the ‘Golden Prince’ for all the fanciful things he’s taken as his own. As a thief he can steal anything, even when he’s propositioned to steal the Queen herself. Stealing her heart however, will prove to be another matter completely.

A/N: Again, credit for this amazing idea goes to @bangtanclouds! Thank you again for letting me steal this. And here it is guys, after working hard all day (with many distractions in between) I present to you, part 2~ please enjoy :)


Keep reading

Don't Do Something Stupid (Robb Stark x Reader)

Also on AO3. Always better if you read it there:
http://archiveofourown.org/works/11132970

The Riverlands were beautiful. Green grass stretched from horizon to horizon, and the rolling hills seeming to stretch on forever and a day. (Y/n) had never been this far south before, being a handmaiden of Lady Catelyn Stark of Winterfell, and she wondered at this strange and beautiful land. Day by day, she soaked in the warm sunlight and gained a new perspective on the world as she knew it.

That is to say, (y/n) was lathered with sweat for the better part of the day, her skin cooked in the sun like tender meat, and she lay bare at night, wishing for the cool stone floors of Winterfell instead of the hot, humid climate of the south.

(Y/n) was no southron girl, after all– she was built for life in the north. Blustering winds, summer snows, and bitter cold nights she could handle. This blasted heat? The hot soup that the southron simpletons called air? These, she could not.

“(Y/n), my dear, close the flap of the tent, you’re letting in the heat,” Lady Catelyn called, fanning with her hands.

Or letting in the breeze, (y/n) thought, but kept it to herself as she followed her instructions.

“Yes, Lady Catelyn. I only wanted to hear the song of swords in the distance, my lady. If you listen, you can hear it…and the screams. You can almost tell to whom the screams belong, if you really concentrate.”

Lady Catelyn’s cerulean eyes looked over at her concernedly. “That’s morbid child, far too, too…disturbing, for a lady your age to think about.”

(Y/n) stared back at her lady with a challenge issued unashamedly in her (e/c) eyes. “But a lady my age is old enough to watch an amputation without milk of the poppy, old enough to sew up a wound as long as my forearm?”

“You sound far too much like my sons.” Lady Catelyn smiled wistfully, her auburn hair shining as she stood. “Promise me, dear, that you will keep your spirit. You’re a thing of the North, wild and free. I know the south disagrees with you, but don’t let it melt you down to nothing.”

“Never fear, my lady,” (y/n) smiled. “Ro–His Grace says I’ve got ice in my veins. If so, I’m in no trouble because of the early autumn.”
Lady Catelyn chuckled. “Robb always has said your heart was frozen solid.”

Yes, His Grace indeed.

Robb Stark. The Young Wolf. King in the North. The perfect, prideful, problematic golden-child of Winterfell. Disgustingly honorable, as thick-skulled and dim-witted as men are made– His Grace was quick of wrath but slow of thought, ineffably maddening. (Okay, perhaps that last bit was a mite unfair. Robb was a smart lad, he was just positively awful when it came to understanding the obvious.)

And yet how I will miss that scoundrel if he dies.

If he died…Lady Catelyn would be devastated. She might even lose her head in more than the metaphorical sense, for death was the penalty of a traitor. Arya and Sansa as well…and probably Bran and Rickon too. Everything was on Robb’s shoulders, on the shoulders of his soldiers, now. Perhaps that was why they’d won every battle they fought– the northern army had so much more to lose than the Lannisters if they were defeated.

“My lady?” (y/n) began hesitantly, fiddling with the bodice of her gown.

“Yes?”

“When do you suppose the men will be back?”

Lady Catelyn sighed, and in a moment’s time she seemed to age twenty years. “I don’t know. Could be moments, could be hours, could be– wait.”

The sound of hoofbeats filled the air, and (y/n) got her answer.

Back at Winterfell, when (y/n) thought about war and battles, she’d thought that the hardest part would be sending the men and boys off to fight. She was woefully, dreadfully wrong. It was seeing them coming back in bits and pieces instead of whole–it was smelling the shit and gore and death that followed the men like a ghost– that was the hardest. As (y/n) stepped out of the tent, she was met with all that anew, and she fought the inevitable wave of nausea that came with it.

The Greatjon, Lord Bolton, Lord Karstark… Where’s Robb? He couldn’t possibly–
(Y/n) yelped as she caught herself from nearly stumbling over Grey Wind, Robb’s direwolf, who snarled, his bloody maw pulling back to reveal even bloodier teeth.
(Y/n) put her hands on her hips. “You listen to me, you little shit pup, I’ll not be growled at by some mutt who thinks he’s got a whiff of fresh meat. If you bite me, I’ll beat you bloody for it and I won’t even taste any good for all your trouble.”

“(Y/n), (y/n). Are you threatening my direwolf?”

(Y/n) closed her eyes, but it was all in vain. Apparently Robb could still see her even if she couldn’t see him.

“Yes, Ro– Your Grace, because the mongrel growled at me,” she huffed, turning to face her king. “He doesn’t like me, and I won’t have him being rude and ungentlemanly. Can’t have your men thinking he’s less than tame.”

Robb rolled his eyes– the same eyes as his mother’s. They shone like gems in the sun, with all the gentleness of his mother and a masculinity that was all his own.
(Y/n) wanted very, very badly to punch him in the throat.

“For a handmaiden, you sure don’t act very–”

“I’m sure I’m a flawed woman, Your Grace, with many faults in many different areas,” (y/n) snapped, tired of the small talk. “You have my sincerest apologies for threatening and insulting your wolf. Would you mind pointing me in the direction of my brother so that I may relieve you of my obviously burdensome presence?”

Perhaps it was a flash of pain in Robb’s eyes in that moment. Maybe it was anger, or confusion, perhaps. Whatever the case, the emotion was gone in a second, and the King in the North pointed across the camp.

“Should be that way. Good day.”

“Good day, Your Grace.”

(Y/n) wanted to laugh. How perfectly daft.
She was an only child.


***
Several days later….

Robb was having a very, very bad day.
The Kingslayer was gone, escaped. The single most valuable bargaining chip he’d had slipped right through his fingers in the course of a night. What was worse, he’d had his mother, who had willing confessed to the crime, arrested for it. And to top it off all, his cock was achingly hard for the, what was it…fourth or fifth time today? He’d lost count. Battles always left him that way, and he’d had no chance to gain any relief, not with that bloody handmaiden of his mother’s taunting him, making him feel a thrice-damned fool every second they spoke and then, as though torture in the daylight hours wasn’t enough, lurking about at night, walking from tent to tent doing only the gods knew what.

“Probably fuckin’ ev’ry man ‘as willin’,” Robb heard some of the men speculating. “No other reason for prowlin’ about. Wish she’d give me a try any’ow. Never comes by my tent.”

That notion made him angrier than it probably should have. It was none of his business, really, who (y/n) spent her nights with. He was promised to another woman– to a Frey of the Twins. (A woman he’d never so much as seen, but a woman no less.) And, in any case, (y/n) was a foul thing, if fair to look at. It seemed she would rather spit venom at him than even consider that he might be a decent bloke on most days. And that self-righteous Your Grace of hers was as cold, mocking, and disrespectful as a drunk in a sept. She was awful, scathing, and prideful. Seven hells, she’d even made up a brother to avoid talking with him!

So why did he care so much about what anyone thought or said of her?

Not important, Stark, Robb told himself as he walked into his private tent, securing the flap. You’ve got other plans tonight.
Talisa was the plan, actually, but his mother would never have to know.

Talisa, Talisa. There she was, laying across his table, looking at him with those dark, reflective eyes. Foreign, beautiful, intelligent, sweet– she was everything a man could want. Robb knew he should feel guilty, laying with a woman that was not his wife, but his gonads were going to shrivel up and fall off if he didn’t put them to some use. And who better to suit his needs than this beauty? In the golden glow of the lanterns, she could be a goddess.
Just as Robb began unlacing his breeches, the flap of his tent was ripped gracelessly, violently open.

“Pardon my intrusion, Your Grace, but I must have a word with you alone. A message from your lady mother.”

And just that quickly, Robb went from spending stolen moments with a goddess to the devil’s daughter herself.

Once Talisa left, Robb rounded on the handmaiden with somewhat undue frustration. “What is so important that you barge into my tent unannounced, without permission?” he demanded, crossing his arms. “I certainly hope it was important, for your sake.”

Without so much as a blink, (y/n) sat at the table and rested her elbows on it so that she could fold her fingers together. Her (e/c) eyes flickered in the lantern-light, and in that moment she had the look of vile enchantress, full of malevolence and rage.

“Oh, it’s of paramount importance, I assure you, Your Grace,” she intoned softly, her words a dagger behind the silk of her voice. “It’s a message about maintenance of a kingdom. The reputation of a king, the adherence to an agreement made only weeks ago. I’m sure you remember now that I’ve said something. I’m only here to remind you of it, Your Grace.”

Realization didn’t so much as come to Robb as sock him right in the balls. “You did that on purpose!” he exclaimed, incredulous.
“Did what on purpose, Your Grace?” (Y/n) asked innocently. “I do everything on purpose unless it’s an accident.”

Robb felt blood rise to his cheeks. “You– you knew about Talisa, and you came in here under false pretenses–”

“And who said my pretenses were false, Your Grace?” (y/n) snapped, slamming her hands on the table. “Lady Catelyn gave me my instructions long ago. I’m making sure you don’t do anything stupid and throw away a kingdom. Your Grace.”

“It was only for a night,” Robb replied, walking to the table until he leaned over it threateningly. “I’m a king– I think I have some right to my pleasures. I’m not married yet, and can do as I please.”

(Y/n) scoffed, her lashes fluttering against her cheek in a way that should not be so alluring in the middle of her total and complete disregard for his authority. “That’s the problem with kings– always thinking they have a right to this or that. Let me tell you this, King in the North– you only have a right to what your people give you, only for as long as they freely give it, and you have been given a wife. Not a whore, not some random stranger that you’ll fall head-first in love with. A wife.”

“Damn you, woman.” Robb felt guilt claw at his chest, but he could do nothing but stare at this bold, foolish handmaiden who seemed to think she knew everything. That her language could cost her life now seemed of little consequence to (y/n), and Robb fought the urge to threaten her with it purely for the sake of their childhood acquaintance.

“Your mother told me to keep you from doing anything stupid,” (y/n) began again, somewhat more gently. “And she also told me to– to offer an alternative, Your Grace.”

Robb froze. Surely not…

“If you are so weak-willed that your cock controls you and not your brain, I might not be much but I’m what you’ve got.” (E/c) eyes bore into his own, and Robb felt as though he might be sick.

“No. You and my mother have gone mad if you think that I would take you against your will to save face for some treaty made with a crusty old codger that would trade half of his children for a milk cow,” Robb ground out, folding his arms. “I’m insulted that you both think so little of me. I had thought I seemed more honorable than that.”

“Oh, gods help, I’ve ruffled the peacock’s feathers” (y/n) snarked, rolling her eyes that shone with light from the lantern flame near her face. “You’re insulted by everything. Why would you assume it would be against my will, hmm, Your Grace? Shouldn’t I be chomping at the bits to get to fuck a king?”

She really has gone mad, Robb thought, slightly disturbed. “(y/n), really, you don’t know what you’re sayi–”

“For the sake of the gods, Robb Stark, stop telling me what I do and don’t know and listen to your mother. She sent me here because she was concerned and she asked me if I would offer an alternative. I said yes.” (Y/n)’s eyes were molten as she stood, walking around to the other side of the table. The silence that ensued was deafening, and Robb could hear his own heart pounding in his chest.

“Robb, you’re a handsome man and a king, and you might be useful for some things. Sometimes.” (Y/n) shook her head, as though clearing her thoughts. “Whatever. Don’t be a fool. I’ll do the north this one service. If you need to wet your willie, by the gods get it over with.”

Robb wanted to make some comment about how crude she was, to mock her or refuse her in some way, to find the strength to do the right thing, but he couldn’t manage more than to say, “And the lion becomes the lamb.”

Her hair was silky soft beneath his hands, and her eyes closed at his touch.

“Do you want this?” he breathed, looking for any signs of a lie. “If you don’t, I swear to you I won’t do anything ‘stupid’ as you say. I can control myself, but…if you’re willing, I would gladly use your company.”

“I want this,” was her only reply.


***


It never occurred to (y/n) how large Robb’s hands were. They were large enough to nearly wrap around her head when he held her face as they kissed. One of them wandered to the small of her back, pushing her into him so that she could feel the cock straining in his breeches, and (y/n) was no longer sure if she would be standing upright if she were supporting her own weight. Her sheer breathlessness alone would surely have left her crumpled on the floor– for Robb Stark did not kiss like a gentleman. He kissed like a street rat, like a fishmonger’s son, all taking and no giving, and he left no time for things such as breathing and swallowing.

“If… it helps you,” he breathed into (y/n)’s mouth, capturing her tongue. “You can pretend…I’m Jon. I know…you used to have feelings…for him.”

“Used to.” With all her might, (y/n) pushed away from Robb, gaining least a few inches of personal space. “Right now, there will be no pretending. We are what we are, and not all the pretending in the world can change that.”

Oh, the fire in those beautiful eyes of his at those words. Roughly, Robb snatched (y/n) to him and began to kiss at her neck…if one could call it kissing. (Y/n) felt as though she were being consumed as his teeth scraped her skin, and as his beard scratched at her neck, she decided that being consumed felt incredible. So distracted was she by Robb’s attentions to her neck that she didn’t even know his hands were up her skirt until her moved her knickers aside and touched her.

“Seven hells,” Robb swore, drawing back his hand. “You’re so wet…and for me. Not for anyone else– for me?”

(Y/n) nodded, a little surprised herself.
Robb brought his fingers and licked her wetness from them, using his other hand to rip off her dress.

“Ah, so the wolf does have claws,” (y/n) chuckled softly, unlacing Robb’s breeches. “I wonder if he’ll mount me like a bitch in heat.”

Robb growled at that, yanking off the last of her clothing. “You have quite a mouth, don’t you?”

“Your cock doesn’t seem to mind.”

“My cock doesn’t mind anything at the moment,” he confessed, pulling his shirt over his head. “Before I– before we do this…are you sure you want this? It’s not too late to back out.”

(Y/n) wanted to roll her eyes, but instead, she leaned close to Robb, her mouth at his ear and her breasts touching his chest, and whispered, “Yes, Your Grace.”

Swift and sure, Robb lifted her onto his lap by her bum and claimed her mouth again before leaning back on his hands.

“In here, I’m Robb. Not ‘Your Grace’ or any such nonsense. In here, with you, I’m just a man and you’re just a woman. No more, and no less.” He pursed his lips in thought for a moment. “No pretending, as you said.”

“Very well, Robb,” (y/n) said, rolling her hips. “It’s your roof, your rules.”

When he took her, it was fast and hard and without mercy. As soon as Robb entered her, he drew almost completely out and drove right back in, over and over and harder and faster. His hands were everywhere, his mouth drawing patterns in spit and red patched where he’d bit, and (y/n) was lost. She knew her nails were digging into his back but she didn’t care as long as he kept this pace. Her pleasure was building low in her stomach, and she came while Robb’s thrusts were still steady and showed no signs of stopping. She would come another time before his thrusts began to falter, becoming more erratic, signifying the coming of his release. Just before he did release, though, he pulled out and finished on her belly, leaving quite a mess between them.

“It seems,” he said, locking eyes with (y/n), “That someone here besides the wolf has claws.” He reached back to touch his shoulder, and his hand came up bloody.

“Excuse you, I was holding on for dear bloody life,” (y/n) challenged, folding her arms. “That was quite a way to lose my maidenhood, if I do say so myself.”

Robb went deathly pale, and (y/n) once more felt the urge to roll her eyes. It seemed to be a common theme with the King in the North.

“(Y/n), I had no idea, I’m so sorry–”

“Robb, if I’d wanted to be fucked like a virgin, I’d have told you I was a virgin,” (y/n) clarified, finding a cloth to wipe off with. “I wanted you to take what you wanted– needed– and you did. You have nothing to apologize for.”

For a moment, Robb was blissfully silent, and (y/n) could enjoy the view. The King of the North was truly beautiful, if a bit daft. He lay there completely naked, his perfect cock lying flaccidly on his sculpted belly, his rich, beautiful auburn hair curling messily atop his head like a crown. Even his skin seemed to glow a pleasant gold as it stretched around the corded muscles of his delicious thighs, his bulging arms. No word but perfect could describe him in that moment.
It was almost sad that (y/n) had to leave.
“If you’re finished for the night, Your Grace, then I will take my leave.”

As if in a daze, Robb nodded. “My name is Robb. Just Robb. Thought we agreed on that.”

“Fine,” (y/n) half-smiled, pulling on her clothes. “Goodnight, Robb.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Robb asked, rising to his feet.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

(Y/n) smiled. “Then yes.”


***


The next morning, Robb thought surely that night had been a dream. The gashes on his back quickly proved otherwise.

What a woman, he thought as he bathed and dressed himself. She’s more wild than Grey Wind.

Throughout the day, Robb saw no sign of (y/n). It was as though she’d left the camp. Robb almost worried that she had, until night fell and she emerged from his mother’s tent like some night flower. She said nothing to him, didn’t even walk near him, but her eyes said it all.

Go, and I will follow.

As quickly as possible, Robb found an excuse to retire early to his tent, only to wait maddening moments more until (y/n) stepped in, silent as a shadow.

“Good evening, (y/n),” he greeted her softly, standing from his seat.

“Good evening, Robb. Your mother is distraught, you know,” she commented breezily, as though talking about the weather and not a very sensitive subject. “She worries you won’t forgive her.”

Robb walked closer to her, trying to quell his rage at being confronted. Breathe, Robb. “How can I forgive an act of treason?”

“How can you not forgive your mother?” (Y/n) shot back defensively. “Go to her. Tell her you still love her and that you forgive her. You don’t have to remove your guards or anything. Just ease her heart. She’s lost all her children but you, Robb.”

“Who are you to command me, in the affairs of my family and my kingdom no less?” Robb demanded, feeling a knot form in his stomach.

(Y/n) let her fingertips glide over the table, not meeting his eyes. “Just a woman.” She then looked up, fixing him with a hard glare. “Just a woman who won’t fuck you unless you make peace with your mother.”

“You think I need you? Need sex?”

“No. But I think you want it badly enough to do the right thing.”

Angrily, Robb stormed out of his tent, leaving (y/n) standing there by herself. He wanted to forgive his mother, he really did. He wanted to just forget all of it and go back to the way things were before, but he couldn’t. He was king now and he had to act like one. Keeping the respect of the men that were sworn to him was vital, and he couldn’t keep acting soft or he would lose that respect in an instant.

But she was his mother.

Damn that stupid girl, Robb grumbled to himself as he sought his mother’s tent. Why must she be so bloody right about everything?

When he entered Lady Catelyn’s tent, he found his mother crying, eyes red and cheeks swollen.

“Robb, I–”

“I love you, mother,” he interrupted her, walking to her side. “And I will always love you. I forgive you, but…I can’t do anything to outwardly show that forgiveness. To the men you’re–”

“A traitor, I know,” Catelyn sighed. “I’m sorry Robb, I truly am, but I’d do it again a thousand times over if it meant the safety of your sisters.”

Robb wanted very badly to cry. He felt as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and more than ever he wished that anyone other than himself were king.

“I know. And I respect that,” he sighed. “I just don’t understand it.”

“One day, when you have children, you will,” his mother replied, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “Get some sleep, love. You’ll need your strength.”

When Robb returned to his tent, he found (y/n) lying down, already naked.

“I trust your visit went well?” She teased, sitting up with all the grace of a cat.

“It did. Thank you– you were right,” he admitted, somewhat reluctantly.

“Oh ho ho, I must be dreaming,” (Y/n) laughed. “Robb Stark, admitting that someone was right besides himself? Unheard of!”

“Oh, shove off. We have other things to worry about, don’t you think?”

(Y/n) nodded with a graceful smile. “How will it be tonight? Like last night? Fast and wild?”

Robb shook his head, smiling despite himself. “I was thinking more slow and intense. I want to thank you for your…patience, last night. You were treated rather roughly, and I want to show you that I’m not all carnivorous beast.”

“Interesting. Show me.”

Oh, and he did.

First, he kissed her and languidly explored her body with lips, tongue, and teeth. That in itself was rewarding if only for the wonderful sounds she made when he dipped his head between her thighs and brought her so close to the edge that she nearly cried when he pulled away.

“Oh gods, Robb,” she cried as he gathered her in his arms. “I can’t– I want–”

“Shh,” he soothed her, threading his fingers through her hair. “I want you to come on my cock, again, and again, and again…as many times as your body will allow.”

Her beautiful (e/c) eyes went wide. “What about–”

“I can handle myself,” he chuckled. “Tonight is about you. Tell me truly, (y/n)– do you know how bloody arousing it is to know that you’re bedding a girl brave enough, wild enough, to threaten a direwolf?”

Again, those lashes fluttered against her flushed cheeks, and Robb’s heart threatened to stop.

“Do you know how arousing it is to be bedded by the King in the North? By the man that other men all but worship?” (y/n) asked as he entered her. “That isn’t something any woman could boast of.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch, the worship part,” Robb chuckled nervously, ever modest.

“Is it? Or are you talking about my cunt?”

After that, there was no more talking. All of Robb’s attention went to his lovemaking. In a way, he supposed the moans, the sighs, and the gasps were a language of their own. They certainly served a purpose in communication of some form. In any case, the only real words that were said before he came were from (y/n), and they were the sweetest words he’d heard all day.

“Inside me…Finish inside me. I want–oh gods.”

Robb didn’t need to be told twice.
A few moments after it was all over, (y/n) moved to stand, presumably to leave, but Robb trapped her in his arms.

“Stay,” he rasped. It wasn’t quite a question, but wasn’t quite a command either.

It was an invitation.
“But your mother–”

“Doesn’t need you as much as I want you.”

For a beat, there was silence, and Robb though that (y/n) might leave anyway.

She didn’t.

That night, he slept the best he had in months.


***


(Y/n) always swore she’d never let a man make a fool of her, but she’d be damned if she wasn’t a fool for Robb Stark.

It had been months since (y/n) had started sleeping in his tent, and she found herself wishing she hadn’t. Of course, she enjoyed it– (y/n) had learned to love chasing pleasure as much as anyone– but she began to enjoy it too much. The kisses they shared were still savage and passionate, but they were now also sweet and tender beneath the roughness. The sex became more than just something to satisfy needs– it became loving and powerful beyond words. (Y/n) was becoming too attached, too emotionally invested. She dared not think of what that implied, and she certainly dared not think that he could feel in any way the same.

For the sake of the realm, she prayed to the old gods and the new that he did not.

Love had always come with difficulty to (y/n). It seemed that no matter where she looked for it, it was denied to her, and when it wasn’t, well…it seemed her affections were ill-placed. She always loved the beasts, the bastards, and the broken things, all of which she either could not have or did not want. It was maddening.

Not to mention the insidious monster that is man’s love of scandal and gossip.

Lady Catelyn began to question (y/n)’s absence from her tent in the night immediately after the first night (y/n) spent with Robb Of course, when asked, (y/n) told her the truth, and Catelyn only smiled.

“Serve him well, dear. You’ve always been strong-willed, so I trust you’ll be able to keep him in line better than I will.”

(Y/n) felt the need to say that her sway over Robb didn’t come from her will so much as a tight grip on his balls, but that seemed somehow inappropriate.

But there were others whispering besides Lady Catelyn, and (y/n) knew it. They whispered awful things. Things that were completely and utterly true, for the most part.

It bothered Robb.

“They call you a whore,” Robb told her one night, angry and self-righteous as always. “They have no right to call you anything, least of all a whore.”

“No,” (y/n) replied with a grin. “You don’t pay me a single copper. That makes me a slut, not a whore.”

Oh, how angry he’d been at that. (Y/n) could still feel his handprint on her bum if she thought about it hard enough. She smiled at the memory, and stopped as soon as she realized how fond she was of Robb. This had to stop, this warm, bright feeling in her chest. (Y/n) couldn’t go on like this– it would kill her when he married that Frey girl if it did.

Things had to change, or something horrible was bound to happen. (Y/n) couldn’t allow herself to walk along with Robb where she was allowed to follow, prattling on about this or that. She had to stop poking fun at him, kissing him frivolously whenever they were alone, treating him like she would a lover.

It was going to hurt worse than the seven hells combined, but (y/n) could not allow herself to love.

***


Robb had never felt like this, not even that one time with that whore from Lys.

“Oh seven hells– bloody fuck, girl. Ah–stop, gods, are you trying to–”

“Suck your brain out through your cock? Yes.” (y/n) smiled cheekily.

Robb took her face in his hands and kissed her soundly as he positioned himself at her entrance. “I love you, you foolish girl.”

As it turned out, Robb was the fool, as usual. (Y/n) went completely still against him and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Don’t say that, Robb. Especially not if you mean it.” Her voice was as cold as the Wall, and Robb fought off the urge to shiver even as his body flushed in preparation for his confession.

“But I do love you,” he murmured, brushing the hair from her face. “You must know that.”

“I didn’t. Even so, it doesn’t matter– you’re promised to a Frey, remember. That’s why I’m here.”

“(Y/n), I don’t think you understand,” Robb sighed as he pushed into her. “I would call off that agreement in a heartbeat for you, if you felt the same, damn the consequences– do you? Feel the same?”

Robb’s whole world collapsed with just two words.

“I don’t.”

Robb swallowed. “Look at me. Look me in the eyes and say you don’t love me.”

(E/c) eyes met his own, hard as Valyrian steel. “I don’t love you. You will marry that Frey girl, and she’ll whelp you litters and litters of little wolf pups for the north to dote over,” (y/n) spat bitterly. “I don’t love you. Never will, Robb. I’m sorry.”

“So be it,” he murmured, his chest physically aching. “Leave me.”

(Y/n) moved away, standing to dress.“Yes, Your Grace.”

Robb caught her hands before she could move them, and he stared into her eyes as she looked down at him. “My name is Robb to you. Always.”

Without another word, she left.

Robb’s heart hurt so badly that he could not even cry for fear that he would shatter like glass.


***


(Y/n) could do nothing but cry. Her own words echoed in her head and stabbed her in the gut every time she thought them.
I don’t love you. I don’t love you. I don’t love you.

The gods had given (y/n) a gift for lying. She could do so without hesitation, spinning tale after tale until she had convinced the world that the sky was red and the clouds were piss-green. Sometimes, she almost fooled even herself.

And now, thanks to that, Robb Stark thought she didn’t love him when he was the only thing she wanted and would ever want again.

It was incredibly good of Lady Catelyn not to question her– the sweet Lady of Winterfell only rubbed soothing circles on (y/n)’s back as she cried, occasionally whispering words of comfort. (Y/n) would never be able to thank her enough for that– without the comfort Lady Catelyn provided, (y/n) would surely have done something foolish. Likely, she would have fled back to Robb’s tent, begged his forgiveness, and told him the truth. Then he would, what, throw away a kingdom for her? There was no way in the seven hells she’d see that happen, and yet…for love, she just might have. The whole concept terrified (y/n)– she’d never had anything that she would watch the seven kingdoms burn for.

The things she would do for love…


***


Robb had never been more miserable in his life. All day, every day, he had only one thought, one all-consuming wish– he longed for the night and the woman he would spend it with. And all night, every night, when he was with his love, he longed to be apart from her, for being with her gave him as much agony as being without her, knowing that she didn’t love him. It had been two months since (y/n) had smashed his heart to bits, and every day since then seemed worse than the last. The only moment he found peace was when he was making love to her, letting his hands roam her body as hers roamed his. Nothing else existed then– when they were together like that, there were no secrets, no lies, no playing pretend. Only the truth remained between them.

(Robb wasn’t sure what the truth was, but it was all he had, and he clung to it like a drowning man to a plank.)

Tonight’s moment of truth had been short, but not so sweet. It left Robb feeling more hollow than before, if that was still possible, and it felt like mockery.

As he got up to put out the lanterns, Robb afforded one last look at (y/n), who lay sprawled across his furs for the moment. She was the very picture of a queen, with skin as smooth as silk and twice as shiny with sweat.

In a few minutes more, she would leave. He would beg her to stay, kiss her and hold her and beg as much as a king can, but still she would go. The next night would be a repeat of this one, and the next, and the next, in an endless cycle of pain and pleasure, of misery and miracles.

Eddard Stark, Robb’s father, used to tell him that if he loved something, to let it go. If it came back, Lord Stark said, it loved him back.

(That was the only lie Robb’s father had ever told him. Every night, faithfully, (y/n) always came back, but she did not love him.)

Just as Robb laid down once more, (y/n) stood, pulling on her clothes.

“Don’t go.”

“Is that a command, Your Grace?”

“A request. One I make every night, and every night, you refuse me.” Robb didn’t bother to hide the pain and accusation in his voice. He was useless at being subtle anyhow. “Stay with me, my love.”

“Robb, I am not ‘your love’ and I can’t stay because if I do I’ll–”

(Y/n) froze but for shaking her head as she pressed her lips together.

“You’ll what?” Robb asked, leaning up. “What is it?”

It was difficult to see, but after a moment Robb saw that (Y/n)’s sweet, precious eyes were filled with tears, and, unable to stay away, he went to her, wiping her tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

“I can’t do this,” she sobbed, looking up at him with pain in her eyes. “I just can’t, it hurts too much and I’m n-not strong enough–”

Robb gathered (y/n) into his arms, and she sobbed violently into his chest– it was the screaming sort of sobbing, the kind that came from only the most acute pain. Robb wished he could take it all away, wished he could take on all her burdens, all her cares– his heart ached at the thought of her pain.

“Sh, there, dove. My sweet, sweet queen, don’t cr– oomph.”

She shoved him. That little wildcat shoved him from her. At first, Robb was angry, but (y/n) had stumbled so far backwards that she’d fallen into a heap on the floor, where she looked up at him pitifully.

“Don’t call me that. Call me anything but queen, Robb, please.” her voice was so raw and broken…it scared the shit out of him.

Before, either of them could react, though, one of the guards asked permission to enter, saying he had urgent news. Once he’d put his breeches on, Robb invited him in, and the guard wore a grim expression.

“A raven came, your grace. The Twins were invaded last night, and every last Frey was slaughtered in the struggle. Here’s the message, written in the hand of Lord Tywin Lannister himself.”

Robb read the letter six times over before he truly began to believe it. Every last Frey, gone…Robb knew he should feel something– grief, joy, whichever– but he felt only numbness.

“Thank you for informing me, ser. See that you tell each of the lords and arrange a meeting of the war council at first light.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The guard bowed, and once again the two lovers were alone.

The tent was silent as a tomb.

“I no longer have to marry,” Robb thought aloud. “I don’t know if I should be happy about that or not.”


***

“Robb?” (y/n) sniffled from the ground, clutching her legs to her body.

“Yes?” He answered hesitantly from the bed, where she had all but ordered him to stay while she cried.

“Will you– will you hold me?”

“Of course.” He walked over, scooped her up, and carried her to his furs, where he lay with her, their bodies entwined.

“Robb? Do you still love me?”

Robb frowned bitterly. “You ask me that as if I could stop.”

“Truly, you do love me? Still?”

She knew that would make Robb angry, but she needed to know beyond doubt. (Y/n) was so afraid that her heart felt nigh to bursting. She hoped Robb couldn’t feel her whole body tremble as she was pressed against him by one of his strong, powerful legs.

“Yes. For as long as I still have breath, I will love you.”

“Even if I lied to you?” she asked, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “Even if I hurt you because I thought it was the right thing to do?”

“(Y/n) what are you saying?” Robb demanded as he sat up, his hair sticking up in a thousand different directions.

“I’m saying that I lied, I’m saying that I hurt you, I’m saying that I’m sorry, but most of all, I’m saying…I’m–” (y/n) struggled to speak through her tears, and failed miserably.

“Saying what, dear one?” he prompted, kissing her temple.

“That I love you.” she whimpered softly.
“You…what?”
“I love you, Robb, I really, truly do, I love you more than I have ever loved anyone ever before and–”

Robb stopped her with a hand. “You love me?”

“Yes, Robb, I love you,” (y/n) replied, all but falling into his deep cerulean eyes. “I lied, before, when you first asked me. I didn’t want you to call off that marriage and destroy everything that you’ve worked so hard to build and I–”

Robb cut her off with a bruising kiss, all but throwing her on her back with his knees on either side of her. He looked like an animal, a predator, ready for the kill. He loomed over (y/n), his eyes searching hers, and he must have found what he was looking for, because he kissed her, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth as though looking for answers to the universe.

“I will make you my queen,” he growled into her ear, literally ripping off her dress. “You will bear me litters and litters of wolf pups, not some inbred southern woman. If you love me as you say you do, I will make you my queen, my wife.”

“Yes, Robb,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering shut as he took her for the third time that night. “All of that, I want it all.”

You’ll have one of those pups you were talking about a little sooner than you planned, (y/n) thought giddily to herself, but she didn’t see any reason to ruin Robb’s fun with the announcement.

“Say you love me.” That was not a request, but (y/n) found herself unable to care.
“I love you. I’ll always love you, Robb. Now and forever.”

The two of them climaxed together, and Robb stayed inside her, filling her to the hilt the whole night through.

(Y/n) never slept better.


***


“Pregnant? Pregnant. Okay, okay, you’re pregnant, seven hells… We’re going to be parents!”

“Robb, darling, seriously. This is our fifth child.”

“So? It’s just as exciting as the first time,” Robb laughed, smiling so wide his face hurt.

(Y/n) smiled the kind of smile that he lived to see. “And does that mean you have to say the exact same words you’ve said the last four times I told you I was pregnant?”

“Yes, absolutely. Because nothing else sums it up as well.” Robb’s heart filled with joy and pride and he touched (y/n)’s stomach. “Maybe another girl this time? Three’s a lucky number…”

“You just love to spoil your daughters,” (y/n) laughed, looking over to where Lyanna and Brienne played in the trees. “They’re as wild as you were.”

“Or maybe another son…Ned and Jon need someone to pick on besides one another,” Robb laughed, watching the boys spar. “Either way, when it comes down to it, their Aunt Sansa is the worst at spoiling them. Even worse than mother, and that’s saying something.”

“I still can’t believe I’m mother to little princes and princesses. I can’t believe I’m wife to a king,” (y/n) smiled wistfully. “I never dreamed of amounting to much. Now look at me. Queen of the North.”

“Darling, you were always queen. It was only that no one knew that but you,” Robb japed.

“Shut up,” (y/n) smirked, elbowing him.

“That’s not fair. I can’t elbow you back because you’re pregnant. Oh my gods, you’re pregnant.”

“Robb?”

“Yes?” He grinned cheekily.

“Shut up.”

Robb laughed. “Never.”

(Y/n) leaned into his kiss, and thanked the gods as she did every day for the wonder that was her husband.

Long live the King in the North.

AO3 link:
http://archiveofourown.org/works/11132970

What was Uncle Monty’s trip to Peru really about?

Uncle Monty: the man, the fool, the legend.

Readers know him as the best guardian the Baudelaires ever had: caring, respectful and an endless source of knowledge. The last few days he spent with the Baudelaires are probably the only moments of genuine happiness in the entire series.

He’s also remembered as a hapless buffoon, too gullible to recognize how suspicious Gustav’s disappearance and how threatening his new assistant really were. The first sacrifice in a long line of casualties Olaf and the Baudelaires leave in their tracks.

“So don’t look so worried, bambini. As you can see, your Uncle Monty has the situation in hand.”
[The Reptile Room, Chapter Five]

But what if Monty were actually one of the most brillant masterminds of the series? Was the herpetologist, in contrast with Olaf’s machinations, running a conspiracy of his own?

Let’s try to establish a different scenario under the cut.

Keep reading

On White-Washing Idols (Daehyun Focus)

This is an issue that across the k-pop fandom I know all of us can speak on, and as I start to write this I don’t know how long the post will be or what I’ll even say really, I’m just fired up on the topic because it’s been apparent since I joined the K-Pop world in 2010 and it has only gotten worse over time. About the only idol I don’t see white-washed often is Min Yoongi and that’s because he is naturally so light-skinned if you watch him on stage he looks borderline sickly (please don’t take this wrong, Yoongi is one of my top three biases and I adore him more than anything, I just don’t see anything of him white-washed because his natural skin tone is already so light).

Anyway, I’ve only ever been to two K-Pop concerts and both of them were for my bias group, B.A.P. I don’t have the money to go to concerts myself and I definitely can’t travel, so in 2016 and this year, 2017, my best friend was able to surprise me with tickets and fly down here to go with me as birthday presents for the two of us, since their concerts in Atlanta have been in April and so are our birthdays.

She and I have always been aware of the white-washing issue, I mean look at my icon on here for heaven’s sake, he’s so pale in that picture it’s hard to see him against the white background and that’s just sad to me. Most pictures I find of idols are white-washed in some way, and this bothers me /beyond/ belief.

People white-wash idols because they tend to think that the lighter your skin, the more beautiful you are. I don’t know where this came from because frankly I’m jealous my skin isn’t darker, I look pale and sickly and gross with my white, pasty ass. I’m about as pale as a white person can get and I’d love to be anything but.

So again, some idols deal with this problem more than others. The ones you could think of right away would be Maru from the now disbanded group, C-Clown, N/Hakyeon from VIXX, Kai/Jongin of EXO, and of course my ultimate bias, Daehyun of B.A.P. Funny enough Maru was my C-Clown bias, Hakyeon is one of my VIXX biases and while Jongin isn’t my EXO bias he sure does like to scream in my face that he’s there and he’s beautiful a lot so I give all these guys a lot of attention, and maybe that’s why I think about this issue so much, because it revolves around some of the idols I adore the most.

Now I’m sure every idol has been white-washed to some extent in at least a few pictures, these are just a few of the major cases I see. The only thing I have to really say on this issue is that if you have to white-wash an idol to love them or to not think they’re ‘ugly,’ you really aren’t a fan of them at all. If you can’t appreciate them for who they are, you need to step off and get out of my fandoms because you don’t belong here.

White-washing idols /is/ racist and will ALWAYS be racist, I don’t care what the ‘Korean standards of beauty’ are, because those /standards/ in themselves are racist and until those standards change the people who set them are also racist.

I’m bringing it up now because on April 5th, 2017, just about a week ago, I was so close to the stage at B.A.P’s concert that Yoo Youngjae pointed out how much he liked my dancing from where he was, and on top of that I got to take a photo with B.A.P right after I got to hi-touch them, which meant I got a lot of exposure to them. I also got lucky later and actually ended up running into them /at/ their hotel after the concert, and of course I left them alone but again this means I saw them up close and personal /several/ times.

Let me tell you as I was passing by them for the hi-touch, first of all irrelevant but oh man their hands were so fuckin’ soft I’ve never felt softer more gentle hands, but let me just say ALL OF THEM ARE SO WHITE-WASHED IN THEIR PICTURES. And I don’t mean just Daehyun, I mean the first person I high-fived was Zelo and he was giving me the cutest smile and let me tell you that boy’s natural skin tone oh PRAISE THE LORD THAT BOY DONE NEAR KILLED ME.

But all that said, as beautiful as all of their skin tones are naturally, Daehyun /is/ very obviously the most white-washed out of the six because actually standing up there with them for photos, seeing his face right in front of mine multiple times, hearing him tell me thank you, I got to see his natural skin tone a lot and he is about the most beautiful human being I have seen on the face of this planet and I can just /imagine/ how beautiful that means Maru and Hakyeon and Jongin are too, and all the other idols who are ridiculed for being ‘too dark.’

I don’t get it. I don’t get why you would want to take away someone’s natural beauty to make them white when really white people aren’t any more beautiful than anyone else, and in fact I personally would say we’re uglier. Don’t call me racist, you cannot be racist against white people, I literally cannot be racist against myself, and yes I think my skin is gross and ugly.

I think my issue with Daehyun comes from the fact that this boy grew up poor, dealt with a ton of shit from his own agency, and then he got this tattoo, right? It’s on his right wrist, it says, “HOLD,” and he got it during his lawsuit and it has a double meaning. It means, “Hold on,” as in, “Hold on because we’ll be back soon,” and “Hold my hand,” as in, “Hold my hand while I go through this because it’s so tough not being with you guys right now.” So let’s go back. He grew up poor, dealt with a lawsuit, got a tattoo and everyone knows there’s always backlash for those of us with tattoos even though it’s not your body to decide what to do with, he went through major depression several times during and after the lawsuit, had actually turned to drinking for awhile and admitted it, and through ALL OF THIS, through ALL of it, since the day that boy was born he has been made fun of and ridiculed for being “too dark-skinned.”

Daehyun has no self-confidence, his self-esteem is out the window and you might not see that on stage but that’s because stage presence doesn’t allow for your sadness and flaws to show through. He’s a ball of sunshine, he just wants to make BABYZ happy, he wants to be with us forever, he /loves/ us, and everything he does is for and because of us. And what do we tell him in return? He’s too dark, ugly, has to be lighter-skinned.

It’s wrong. It’s just so wrong. He does so much for us and we are also the reason he goes through so much emotional turmoil. Jung Daehyun is the literal reason my heart keeps beating, he’s saved my life when I wanted to kill myself, he has done so much for me and if I thought for a /second/ that that was less important to me than the color of his skin I wouldn’t just be ashamed, I would hate myself.

I can’t ever imagine thinking his skin-tone was more important than who he is as a person and what he’s done for me and for so many people in the world. I just can’t…god. Sorry but words evade me right now. And to think he’s not the only one, it’s not just Daehyun who goes through this. Jongin is one of the most popular idols in the world, whether you’re an EXO-L or not you at least know his name, and yet still so many people who claim to adore him and love him for all he is..still put so much weight on his darker skin-tone, say that he would be prettier if only he were lighter-skinned. How can you claim to love someone and then treat them like that, especially for something they could never control? Yeah, I would love to be darker skinned and I could say it all day long but nothing I do is going to magically change my skin-tone.

That’s why this whole subject is racist, and why I wish it would just stop. I can’t stand to see someone like Daehyun who is so pure and loving and supportive, someone who looked at me with such compassion after the photo-op, hurting and suffering and making posts saying he wishes he was lighter-skinned. I can’t stand it. He went from a point in time where he would actually /take down/ his original selfies and put up people’s edited versions of him white-washed, and he would /apologize/ and say he is sorry he’s too dark and that he’s ‘ugly,’ to now… Now he posts original selfies and he doesn’t take them down, and he’s even put up one where he was white-washed and called out the editor of the photo saying, I love what you send me but not that you white-wash me, because that’s not really /me/. I have /dark skin/, and nothing anyone does will ever change that.

He states now that he has to learn to accept himself as he is, that he is Jung Daehyun and yes he has dark skin, but a statement like, “I /have/ to learn to accept myself,” tells me he still doesn’t really internally, and all of that, all of what he’s gone through just regarding the skin-tone he was born with?? That tears me apart.

Stop white-washing our idols, guys, just stop. They’re beautiful as they are, unbleached, dark skinned, natural. They don’t need to be turned into something they aren’t, and if you can’t agree with me, if you can’t believe that an idol YOU claim to love is beautiful as they are, you don’t really love them, and you don’t really deserve to be in their fandom or even recognized in the K-Pop community. If that’s your way of thinking, if you are so petty you would hold someone’s own skin-tone against them, don’t ever talk to me and get out of my fandom because we don’t need or want you here. There’s enough of us who love our idols as they are to go around and your hate is unnecessary.

Sorry if that took too long, that’s all I have to say.

Chrom/M!Corrin C-S Support

Written by  drizzled-wind


C SUPPORT

Corrin: Hello, Lord Chrom? May I speak with you about something?

Chrom: Of course, your highness, but you can leave out the “lord”.

Corrin: Haha, only if you drop the fancy titles as well.

Chrom: Duly noted. What did you need?

Corrin: I was wondering how it felt to lead a band of noble knights such as yours. As someone who had the responsibility thrust upon him, I just wanted a second perspective.

Chrom: Ah, yes. I enjoy being the leader of my army with my tactician at my side. I especially like having the opportunity to build bonds with my Shepherds. Those are very important to me.

Corrin: I know what you mean! Meeting all of the members of my army and having a chance to speak to them personally is truly a privilege like no other.

Chrom: Of course. Speaking of which, your presence seems familiar to me. Calming, in a way.

Corrin: W-what? Um, why?

Chrom: Just a feeling.

Corrin: (Why is he looking at me like that?!)

Chrom: Well, anyway, I think we can agree that it is a great honour to stand at the front of great armies filled with great heroes.

Corrin: We can. Thank you for this chat, Chrom. (And why is he smiling so broadly?)

Chrom: Anytime, Corrin.

[Chrom and Corrin have reached support rank C.]


B SUPPORT

Chrom: Oh, Corrin, hello again. What brings you to this corner of the battlefield?

Corrin: I noticed you took quite a hit from that lancer. Are you okay?

Chrom: Haha, don’t worry about me. I can take more than that.

Corrin: …If you say so.

Chrom: I do. Now that you’re here, would you mind helping me take care of those axemen?

Corrin: Just leave it to me!

[…]

Chrom: Whew, all done. I certainly wasn’t expecting them to cluster like that…

Corrin: Chrom, you’re favouring your shoulder. Are you sure you’re not injured?

Chrom: Don’t be silly. I’m perfectly fine.

Corrin: You don’t need to lie for anyone’s sake, you know. We are all here to help each other.

Chrom: I’m aware of that, Corrin. If I needed help I would seek it; please don’t waste too much time worrying about me. You know, you’re reminding me more and more of an old friend. May I ask-

Corrin: Um, right, right! As long as you’re not pushing yourself too hard. It would be terrible to lose a formidable commander such as yourself. (Why does he keep saying things like this?)

Chrom: Haha, no need to think so highly of me. I’m worth just the same as anyone else.

Corrin: But that doesn’t diminish the amount of that worth.

Chrom: Alright, alright, I concede!

Corrin: (There it is again! That warm look, like we’re sharing an old joke between friends.)

Chrom: Corrin?

Corrin: Y-yes?

Chrom: Nothing. It looked like you were spacing out for a second.

Corrin: (Is he seriously not realising what he’s doing?)

Chrom: There’s that funny look again. Ah, well. I’ll figure you out eventually, haha.

Corrin: *sigh*

Chrom: Well, I’ve got to get going. See you around, Corrin!

Corrin: … See you.

[Chrom and Corrin have reached support rank B.]


A SUPPORT

Chrom: Hmm, perhaps I should have heeded Corrin’s advice. This shoulder wound doesn’t look too good.

Corrin: I knew it!

Chrom: Ah! C-Corrin?!

Corrin: Your wound is infected, isn’t it?

Chrom: Wait, no! It’s not. I just strained it a bit too much. Don’t worry about it, my friend.

Corrin: (What the hell? He’s beaming at me so hard I can practically see sparkles. Does he even know he has that goofy expression on his face?)

Chrom: It’s okay, Corrin. I’ll find a healer and get it fixed up, quick as I can.

Corrin: [y/n] took all the healers out on a special quest, so that may take a while…

Chrom: Ah, well. I don’t want to burden you, so I’ll take my leave. I promise to go to [y/n] as soon as s/he gets back.

Corrin: No, no, I’ll stay with you until then. I don’t want you getting even more hurt pulling some reckless move, like smashing another hole in the wall. (Okay, I’m definitely not imagining it. There are literal sparkles surrounding him when he smiles at me.)

Chrom: Corrin? What’s wrong?

Corrin: Could you j-just… move over a bit?

Chrom: Okay?

Corrin: (Thank goodness, he’s finally out of the sun. I was going blind.)

Chrom: What was that?

Corrin: N-nothing! Nothing. Uh, Chrom, you said something about an old friend, yes?

Chrom: Oh, right. I was just saying that you have this air about you that reminds me of him.

Corrin: Is that so?

Chrom: It’s odd, but very comforting. I feel as though I could chat with you for hours.

Corrin: (I think he’s going delusional. Please hurry, [y/n]!)

Chrom: Did anyone ever tell you-

Corrin: Hey, look - there’s [y/n]! Let’s get you a healer. (… He’s staring again.)

[Chrom and Corrin have reached support rank A.]


S SUPPORT

Chrom: Corrin! I’m glad I caught you. I had something to talk to you about, actually.

Corrin: Oh? I’m all ears.

Chrom: I know I’ve bothered you incessantly about familiarity and the like, and I just wanted to apologise. I wasn’t quite thinking straight.

Corrin: It’s no trouble, Chrom. It didn’t bother me.

Chrom: I’ve been constantly comparing you to my friend back at home, and I realise that it was rather rude of me. You are your own person, and I love you for that - not for being someone else.

Corrin: E-excuse me?! Did you just say-

Chrom: No! I… didn’t say anything.

Corrin: (Did he just confess? He was mumbling so quietly I could barely hear a word. Now he’s giving me that hangdog look again.)

Chrom: Gods, I’m acting like a coward. I’ll just say it. Corrin, I’m in love with you.

Corrin: (Could it be that all this time he was giving me those weird signals because he was afraid to confess?!)

Chrom: … You don’t have to say anything. I know it’s silly. But I can’t control my what I know in my heart.

Corrin: Chrom, wait! Don’t leave.

Chrom: …

Corrin: The truth is, I’ve also felt myself inexplicably drawn to you. But I became friends with you because you’re a sincere person.

Chrom: Are you saying…?

Corrin: Yes. I… feel the same for you. (His eyes brightened with the light of ten suns. How cute…)

Chrom: I can barely believe this is truly happening! Oh! I have something for you.

Corrin: This ring is incredibly fancy… What’s this crest?

Chrom: It is the crest of the royal house of Ylisse. It was made on the day of my birth, and I was instructed to give it to the love of my life.

Corrin: Chrom, I… I don’t know what to say. This is such an honour…

Chrom: One that you well deserve.

Corrin: But what about when we have to leave this kingdom? What will happen then?

Chrom: I would follow you to the ends of the earth. My kingdom can be ruled by another, so long as I can stay with the one I love.

Corrin: (I can see the intense love in his eyes…) I… Thank you, Chrom. Thank you for everything.

Chrom: Anything for the one I love the most in any world.

[Chrom and Corrin have reached support rank S.]

anythingbutregular2  asked:

I really like your rants! They point out things I either missed and/or it's been so long that I don't remember it accurately. While I love your art, reading your ideas is just as refreshing! On that note, what is your opinion of spottedleaf (I haven't read spottedleafs wish but apparently it was really really bad)?

Thank you, I’m really happy to hear that. ^^ I admit, I do get nervous, like sometimes after making a rant I’m so “now I’m going to get hate, now I’m going to get hate” I’m just a little paranoid like that, I’ve always hated the thought of saddening anyone, hehe. So getting this sort of feedback is like a gift. 

As for Spottedleaf… oh dear. I have a lot of opinions on Spotty, and not all very good. I have -not- read Spottedleaf’s Heart, and I have no plans of ever touching it either, first of all because I want to spare myself the pain, and because I do not wish to read such a mangled piece of canon. Secondly, as an adult I am astonished the book was even published, given that its plot was very much not child-friendly, and should never have been accepted by HarperCollins in the first place. I could go on but this deserves its own rant so I’ll lay off for a moment. 

But ahem, I digress. Back to Spottedleaf herself. My opinion on her is about as parted as it is with Ashfur’s. 

… I’m gonna add a keeping reading link here cuz this turned into a real sermon. uwu;

Keep reading

TG:re 129 - Touka’s not Lovin’ It (tm)

x “…remnants of the skyscrapers that were left behind.” I have so many questions about the skyscrapers bit. I’m not going to nitpick about the definition of “skyscrapers”, but they’re still underground, right? How can there be a big hollow area that can contain large structures so far underground that Ayato’s team actually runs out of supplies trying to get to? Is it still underneath the Tokyo area? How about oxygen supply? Do ghouls not need oxygen? So many questions

[Warning: TG:re 129 spoilers, long post, picture heavy content, a lot of nitpicking about Ishida’s world building]

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