unless you need to keep him alive because of your mother or your son

Dating Carlos De Vil Would Include...
  • Carlos would be an extremely sweet boyfriend 
  • Always putting your needs before his own 
  • He’d love surprising you with random gifts 
  • Taking in a rescue dog together to help him get over his fear but of course not telling him about the dog until you had already surprised him with it in his dorm 
    “Y/n why are you carrying that monster! It’s going to eat you alive!" 
  • All the VK loving the two of you together 
  • Being the most adorable couple in Auradon 
  • There wouldn’t be too much PDA involved unless sneaking long glances at each other from across the classroom counted 
  • Although the love is obviously there 
  • You two would result to being a more hand holding couple around campus 
  • Stealing his 3D printer on multiple occasions
    "I swear you only date me for the printer.”
    “No, I date you because you’re handsome and funny. The printer is just an excellent side benefit." 
  • Carlos can’t help but feel jealous whenever he sees Jay talking to you 
  • Cuddling together in his dorm room 
  • Playing with his hair 
  • Study sessions 
  • Playing Tourney and practicing fencing together 
  • Beating Carlos and him claiming he went ‘easy’ on you but you both secretly knew the truth 
  • Carlos would hold your hand whenever he notices you getting stressed 
  • Him opening up to you about his mother
    "Carlos I’m so sorry. I’ll never let anyone treat you that way again. You’re never going back to the Isle, I won’t allow it." 
  • But of course it happened eventually when the VK returned to bring Mal back to Auradon and you would sneak with over them 
  • Which Carlos would be furious about when he found out
    "Y/n what are you doing here? It’s not safe, you need to go back!”
    “I’m not leaving you here Carlos! I can help, so let me." 
  • And he’d settle for giving you the silent treatment once he realizes you aren’t budging 
  • Neither of you are good at holding grudges but he worked his hardest to maintain his hold
  • That was until Harry Hook approached you and struck up a flirtatious conversation 
  • Jay and Evie were sure they had never seen Carlos moved so quickly as he joined by your side 
  • He’d shoot daggers at Harry warding him off and after a while they would work 
  • Carlos then making you promise to stick by his side for the rest of the trip to the Isle of the Lost 
  • You two would hardly fight but when you did was over things like
    "Why did you give Dude a treat? He already had three!”
    “Carlos, stop leaving your dirty disgusting Tourney clothes on the floor!" 
  • But you two would make up with sweet little kisses 
  • Being each other’s date for all the coronations and celebrations you two attend 
  • Carlos having Evie design and create a dress for you for your birthday 
  • Him feeling like he’s not good enough for you
    "I’m a villain’s son… I’m no better than her. You deserve to be with someone like Chad- well preferably a little brighter but someone who was born from light and not darkness like me.”
    “Carlos you’re not your mother. You have so much light inside of you and that’s why I love you!" 
  • He’d be supportive of everything you do just as you are to him
  • Him sneaking into your dorm room late one night just to talk
    “Sorry I couldn’t sleep and my mind kept going back to you. I just needed to see you and ask you a very important question." 
    “What is it, Carlos?”
    “Why does a round pizza come in a square box? Also why doesn’t glue stick to the inside of the bottle?”
    “So this is what keeps you up at night.”
  • Jay, Mal and Evie teasing Carlos endlessly for how lovestruck he acts around you 
  • But he didn’t care because he had you and that’s all he ever wanted

- Daizy xx

anonymous asked:

Can you do 29 for the prompt list

Kara pushed the door open slowly, reverently, like she was entering a temple, like she might disturb the spirits still lingering there.

Part of her felt guilty for never returning her key. She planned to give it back to Eve plenty of times, but something in her just couldn’t. Now, she was glad she kept it. It made sneaking in that much easier. Not that she wouldn’t have found another way, because this — breaking into Cat’s empty condo — was all she had left, and the only thing worse than losing her completely was knowing she’d never get the chance to say goodbye. Not the way she wanted. Not how she would have if she knew the last time they were together would really be the last.

She kept tabs on her travels at first, tracing her movements on a map each day with her fingers, like they would somehow paint a picture that made sense of her decision to leave. After hearing nothing for weeks, she knew she needed to move on. She was restless in her absence, agitated, and it affected her work. Eventually she became less invested, distracting herself with other things, other people, losing track of exactly where in the world Cat had landed, until that was, news broke of the earthquake in Nepal.

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Love and Trust (2/2) (Lafayette x BritishSpy!Reader)

Requested By: @lunettedisdemonsa

Summary: After you leave New York, you have to adjust back to life in England. What happens when you are away from Lafayette? Will you two ever be reunited?

Time-Period: Hamiltime

Warnings: One or two curse words, historical inaccuracies, like please just ignore them and pretend everything works out.

Words: 7105

Tags: @arisu-chan003 @pearltheartist @ssarah2016 @phuckmyexistence @pinkyiger7 @blueco16 @phantastic-fandoms @turtlesneedglasses @ailee211 @ahammyhamham @lady-of-the-spirit @serkewen12 @hamwriters

A/N: Well I finally go this part to be just the way I liked it, and I have to say I’m pretty proud of this. This was such a fun story to write, so I would like to say thank you to the requester requesting for this AMAZING prompt!!! I hope you guys like it and have a fabulous day!!! ♥

Find Part 1 Here!

After confronting you, Alexander made his way back to camp. He purposefully avoided seeing John, Hercules, and especially Lafayette. Alex knew it would kill Lafayette to know you were a spy for the British, so he would have to lie. However, that could wait until morning.

When morning arrived, Alex was jolted from his sleep by a frantic, shouting Lafayette. He was shaking Alex repeatedly while saying, “Wake up mon ami. Wake up! Wake up!”

“I’m up Lafayette, now stop shouting. What is wrong?” Alex questioned as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“It’s (y/n)! She’s gone, I can’t find her anywhere!” he said, looking more desperate than Alex had ever seen him.

At the mention of your name, Alex groaned internally and knew it was time to make a decision. Either tell Lafayette the truth and break his heart, or lie to spare his feelings.

“About her, Laf.” he started slowly, but continued once he saw Lafayette’s look of urgency. “Well she got word that her mother was alive in England, but needs (y/n) to care for her. She had to leave immediately, Laf. I’m sorry.” Alex lied and prayed Lafayette would believe him.

It was a few moments before Lafayette spoke, sounding very dejected. “She didn’t even say goodbye.” he said more to himself than Alex. “Well, merci Alex. I’ll be going now.” he told Alex and left the tent.

Alex let go a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Is this how you felt when you lied to Lafayette?

Meanwhile, you had docked in England after a month long journey. It was tremendously lonely, not to mention the sea sickness had hit you hard, unlike on the journey to the colonies.

As you looked around the semi-busy streets of London, you knew you had to find a place to stay. You searched two hours until you found a small tavern owned by an old, married couple. You must of looked extremely distressed because they gave you a room for the night, free of charge.

The next day you went out again, this time to find a job. With the war still going on, it proved difficult. Most businesses turned you down immediately because you were a woman and could not do demanding, physical labor.

Eventually, you found work at a tailor shop, but it was only after you begged the owner and assured him that you could sew, did he give you the job.

Satisfied with your achievements, you headed back to the tavern you were staying at, ready for a hot meal. When you walked in, you sat down and waited for your meal. It didn’t take long for it to come out.

“Thank you, Mrs. Williams.” you told the woman who was letting you rent out a room in her tavern for a reduced fee. She had acted like a mother to you.

She smiled kindly at you and left you to your meal. You turned to the Shepherd’s Pie in front of you and finished in mere minutes. For some reason, that was what you had been craving the past few days. Once you finished, you retired to your room for the night.

The next morning, you woke up and rushed to the bathroom where you emptied your stomachs of its contents. Afterwards, you sat back down on your bed while you tried to figure out why you had been sick the past few mornings.

You hadn’t been around anyone with a cough or cold. The sea sickness couldn’t still be affecting you, right? You felt fine. Extremely fine, actually. Usually around this time of the month you would be getting cramps and-

Your mouth dropped open in shock and you could feel yourself starting shake. You hadn’t bled in a month, not since you and Lafayette…

The tears started falling and it felt like you couldn't’ breath. this couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when Lafayette most likely hated you.

While you were crying, you didn’t hear a knock at the door, and you most certainly didn’t hear another person walk in the room. Almost scaring you to death, Mrs. Williams kneeled in front of you and took hold of your hands.

“What’s the matter, dear?” she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ears.

Instead of answering, you shook your head. You couldn’t burden her more than you already had. Besides, what would she think of you once you told her of your suspicions.

“Please, (y/n). Whatever is troubling you, you can tell me.”

It took a few more minutes for you to calm down, and you took a shaky breath before explaining. “I-I think I’m with child.” you whispered.

She looked take aback, but pushed her shock aside. “Have you told the father?” she questioned.

Your head shot up. “No! No, I can’t tell him.” you sniffled.

A million thoughts were running through your mind, different scenarios of what would happen to you and your baby. You were afraid that if you told Lafayette, he would most likely sneer in your face and turn you away. You could never tell him, keep this huge secret from him, but you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to care for this baby on your own.

From that moment you, you believed it would just be you and your baby.

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anonymous asked:

HELP! So I've been an avid sterek shipper for the past 2 years and they are definitely my self-proclaimed OTP, but recently, I have begun to lose interest in it, and I'm sadly becoming numb to it... is there anything I can do to respark that love for them???

//Anon, I am sorry to hear that :( Sometimes, that happens. We move on, even from things we love. But if you want to respark your love, I will try to help. 

The main thing I do to keep my love alive is to separate the pairing from the fandom and the show. That helps me the most. I love Stiles and Derek. Sure, I love TW and the other characters, but the reason I’m obsessed with anything is Sterek. I love Derek’s stupid face and his grumpy eyebrows and his tough exterior and his soft yet resilient interior. I love Stiles’ stupid face and his beautiful eyes and his ramblings and his idgaf attitude unless he loves you, and you better watch out if he loves you bc he will burn down the WHOLE WORLD to protect you.

Maybe you need a good fic. When I get on a string of blah fics, I lose interest. But a good fic, that period where you are pulled in and you can’t stop reading about these two idiots falling in love for the 239802394th time…it’s magical. I can rec you fics if you want, fics that make me love the pairing. Or you can go trope hunting, which is what I do a lot. I want…historical! I want sports! I want coffeeshops! I want college! I want kids! I want deputies, prostitutes, slaves, amnesia, magic!stiles, human!derek, high school…there are so many possibilities. Find fics instead of relying on rec lists. Read outside of your comfort zone. I think sometimes ppl get stuck reading only what they like and don’t branch out and find new fics that can be exciting bc it’s different. I read two fics recently that are not usually my thing. One had a lot of pot smoking, the other was hate sex/enemies to lovers. Neither are my tropes and I usually avoid them. But they were recced to me highly, so I gave them a try. And I LOVED both of them. They were different than what I usually read, but it helped me get excited and think about the pairing in a different way. Read a long fic, esp if you avoid them. I avoid long fics a lot of times bc I’m a slow reader and have limited time. But some of the best fics I’ve read are over 100k. Read short fics. I don’t read much under 10k, but there are some great short fics that can give you a quick fix.

I guess where I find the most feels for Sterek is when I think about them together in ways I want to see. I write fic, so I do this a lot, but I have friends who don’t write fic who come up with ideas all the time. I just love thinking about Derek and Stiles’ lives, in so many different ways. 

Like, I like to think about them being domestic, coming home from long days at work and bickering over who didn’t do the dishes the night before and what to watch after dinner. Taking baths together and washing each other’s backs and pressing each other against slippery bathroom walls and dropping to their knees to blow each other right in the shower. Derek helping Stiles keep from getting too obsessed with anything and practice moderation, and Stiles helping Derek learn to open up and accept that he deserves good things, like a partner and a house and a Pack and a family. Waking up together and snuggling together, maybe lazy morning handjobs while they’re kissing and don’t even care about morning breath. Derek being there with Stiles in the hospital when his dad goes in for something, and Stiles going to Derek’s family’s plots to put flowers on their graves. Derek sitting in the car while Stiles goes to his mother’s grave and refusing to listen as Stiles talks to her. Stiles and Cora ganging up on Derek when they play board games, watch television, choose a restaurant, or do anything really, but Derek doesn’t mind bc he loves that Cora loves Stiles and just stares in awe as Stiles interacts with her like he’s known her his whole life. He thinks about how his mother and father would have loved Stiles, and how he wishes his family could have known him. He thinks about Stiles laughing with Laura and running through the woods with his human siblings, imagines his mom watching them with tears in her eyes bc she’s so happy for them. Stiles sometimes hovers in the doorway when Derek and his father are standing in the kitchen cooking together, or sitting on the back porch drinking beers, or sitting in the living room watching baseball games. Stiles knows that Derek can sense him, but Derek never lets on, just keeps talking to the sheriff. And Stiles can see the love and pride that the sheriff has in his eyes when he looks at Derek, and there was a time he thought he’d be jealous, but he’s not jealous, oh no. He’s so fucking happy because he loves Derek so much and Derek deserves someone to be a father figure, even though he knows it’ll never replace his own father. But he sees the way Derek almost craves the sheriff’s touch on his shoulder, his approval, the way Derek’s chest almost puffs up when the sheriff calls him “son” and the way Derek just lights up when the sheriff hugs him. He never thought his dad would accept Derek, but he’s adopted him like a second son. And they grow old together, get gray and get wrinkles, and they’re still sneaking off to blow each other in public bathrooms and pulling over on the side of the road for a quick handjob at 50 bc if anything, they’re more in love at 50 than at 25, and they’re both in such good places, with adopted kids and a strong Pack and it’s good, and Derek’s accepted it.

Or maybe Derek shows up in DC after Stiles moves there for school. He’s there bc he’s been making his way across the united states and now he’s stopping in DC, and he catches Stiles’ scent on the street and thinks, no, this can’t be Stiles. But he follows it one day, and sure enough, sitting at a table on the quad of a college campus, surrounded by stacks of books and clicking away on a laptop is Stiles. And Derek watches him like a creeper and feels something he can’t put into words- is maybe too scared to put into words - and then he leaves bc he doesn’t want to disrupt Stiles’ life. But Stiles, of course, befriends the wolves on campus and ends up at a full moon pack party and guess who is there? Derek fucking Hale, all long limbs and Henleys and scruff and Stiles is just fucking angry, but happy to actually see him, so he acts cool and sarcastic, and the other wolves are confused about what’s going on, which is to say NOTHING about the confusion Derek and Stiles feel, and they aggressively snipe at each other for weeks when they HAPPEN to cross paths (bc Derek just happens to go to the coffee shop and public library near campus, and Stiles just happens to pester his wolf friends to invite him to things) and after weeks of being sarcastic shits and angry at each other, Derek ends up pressed against the brick wall in a side street bc Stiles pushed him against it and just kisses him stupid and they’re pretty sure they would have rubbed off on each other right there against the brick wall if someone hadn’t said something as they walked by. But they end up kicking out Stiles’ roommate and fucking each other into the mattress and Stiles doesn’t even care when his roommate comes back and gets an eyefull of Derek’s glorious ass bc he just tapped that ass all night long.

But maybe you want to think about them in AUs, like Derek as a baseball player and Stiles the batting coach, and they spend hours together training and have sweaty sex in the locker room. Or maybe they’re both turn of the century lords in fancy houses who need to get married bc it’s their duties, but they’re in love with one another so they’re sneaking around at London balls just to have a moment to kiss each other or to hold hands. Or maybe Derek is a mermaid and Stiles is a marine biologist who saves him from a net he’s been caught in, and Derek is terrified of him, but Stiles is like “dude, I just want to observe you for science!” and they fall in love as Stiles learns about merpeople but he never betrays Derek’s confidence, even when Derek introduces him to all his merfamily and Stiles could change science forever.

You may be ready to move on. You may pick up a new fandom or love, but you can still love Sterek. My first otp was Harry/Ron from harry potter, and I still love them though I’m not as active in the fandom.I still read fic sometimes. I’ve currently been obsessed with Downton Abbey and took a sterek reading/writing break, but I plan on writing again soon. Sometimes we need a breather just to renew our love.

Most of all, just remember that you love that grumpy werewolf and that rambling human, and despite all their bickering, they love each other and care about each other and will protect each other.

Originally posted by samann98

Originally posted by elliotaldersin

Originally posted by slytherinvoid

Open Your Mind To The Unknown.

Request from anon:Can I request an avengers x reader where she’s very young like 18-20 physically but she’s actually a few 100 years old and a vampire? Fury assigns her as added protection for Barton’s family but he’s unsure of her because of what she is. He finds his family actually adores her and she’s very loving and gentle with his kids. She only drinks animal blood and rarely human unless they are deemed a threat to the family.

Note: I really enjoyed writing this so I hope you all like reading it just as much. It was a completely different kind of idea and so the way I wrote it is, fingers crossed, hopefully how anon had it in their mind :)

Clint Barton x Vampire!Reader

Words: 1,986

Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their creators <3

“Sorry could you just repeat what you said….” The expression on Clint’s face as he sat in the briefing room with the rest of The Avengers was one of sheer astonishment as he turned his attention to Tony. “…I must have been concussed in the last mission because I could have sworn you just said that there was going to be a goddamn vampire looking after my family.”

“I checked you over in the infirmary…..you’re not concussed.”

Bruce’s voice was like that of a nervous child as he put this out into the open – he was fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves, the tension that was slowly beginning to build up inside the room making him a little more nervous than usual. Clint shot him a glare before throwing his chair backwards and standing himself up straight.

“Then obviously you have given me some kind of hallucinogenic drug because I am hearing insane things coming out of Stark’s mouth here.”

The doctor shook his head but refused to speak out this time, unsure of how Clint would react if he did.

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Just Some Cancer Kids

Masterpost: {x}

Pairing: Jamilton

Summary: Basically TFIOS, you know the drill most likely

Word Count: 4,069

Tags: @hamilton-of-issues, @demonwolfnightmare, @jeffmadsrqandrp, @melonhamster, @mishaisakitten, @bestfluteninja, @nitrogennerd, @weareallhamiltontrash, @closestfriendivegot, @nefarism

A/N: So I wanted to do this because a) angst b) Jamilton c) several of my family members have died from cancer so I can relate somewhat. BY the way, I do use some actual quotes like the “it’s a metaphor” part just so you know.

Cancer. It was a six letter word that scared anyone senseless, for relatively understandable reasons. After all, an average of over half of a million people died from it a year.

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A Soulmate to Remember Chapter 15

I made 300 followers! WHHOOOO-HOOOOO. Tomorrow I’ll post the other chapters of Poison and Lies, I’m also taking requests.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14

Tags: @otaku-fangirlse, @lucy-fire20  @purplelily24, @welcometothecity, @miss-nerdalots,@marvelsimaginess, @naturalnation123 , @suavehayes @nervouswastelandvoid, @glrynwor, @miraisnotavailable , @lunar-vulpix (let me know through my askbox if i missed someone or you want to be tag)

Pairing: Jason Todd X Reader

word count: 1,146     

TW: None, unless you need one added.

You opened your eyes with a groan and saw a well-lit tan ceiling. There was a laugh that caused my blood to freeze. Not because it was scary or unfamiliar.

  But because you knew it.

     You turned your head to see Ben sitting opposite me in a train car,“Good evening sleeping beauty! I’m so glad you’re awake.”

  “B-Ben?” Oh god. What has he done? You took big gulping breath to try and keep calm.

   Ben slid from his cushioned seat and kneeled in front of you,“Yes darling. It’s me, you weren’t feeling to well, a few of the other passengers were worried. Your mom has been calling you, but I thought it better to wait till you woke up.”

  “Are we on a train?”

  Be laughed again,“Yes sweetie. Remember our first trip away together?”

 "Oh… Yeah,“ You lied, playing along, making Ben beam, and you nodded,"I remember now.”

   "Yes, after we had taken out the trash your cold medicine kicked in. I had to hold your arm to get to your car.“

     "What happened to yours?”

   Ben smiled,“That’s a funny question. But I didn’t take it today. I walked.”

    “Oh.” Damn, there goes someone seeing his car… Then you noticed that he had changed your shirt, but then I shifted and felt the comforting pressure from your cami under it, and you felt better.

   Ben took your hand and squeezed it,“By the time we got to the train station your medicine was in full effect. Some other passengers were so kind to us, they chatted with us while we got to our car.”

   "Did I do something funny?“

   "No, no, you were just really out of it. The older couple couldn’t believe we were soulmates, they said our babies would be too adorable!”

   He laughed and you forced a giggle out of your throat, sitting up,“You… Said my mom called… Could I call her?”

   "Of course honey,“ then he leaned forward and his eyes got that scary look in them again,"But nothing funny, cause I can make this train stop in a fun way,” he snapped back into his happy-go-lucky self,“ Here you go!”

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Thoughts on GoT episode 3

Okay, the Starks are in need of a history lesson.

Jon, your uncle Brandon was not burnt alive by the Mad King. He strangled himself trying to save his Grandfather who was burnt alive. Sansa, Cersei did not kill your father. Joffrey did. She did not kill Rob and your mother. Tywin did.

Anyways, I find the initial disbelief that there are Walkers disconcerting because Dany, you have seen some magical and unbelievable shit yourself. Yes, I know that Dragons are more believable than Walkers because Dragons dying was a relatively recent thing while Walkers have not been seen for thousands of years. The issue, however, is that Dany has fought a wizard or illusionist in season 2 so Walkers can’t be too crazy. 

Jon Snow’s and Dany’s stories are the only ones that I feel D&D pulled off with some level of faithfulness to their interpretations to the book so it can’t be hard to screw them up as hard as they both tried. I mean Dany was statutorily raped in the book. The show Dany was raped in a way that portrayed Khal Drogo as this unthinking and unfeeling brown savage(but given that these are the same minds that are behind Confederacy). Jon’s death at the Night’s Watch was due to very practical and not quite right decision on his part to him outright breaking his vows. He was a traitor to the cause. While show Jon has made every right decision and it was through pettiness and simple-mindedness of others that got him killed.

I can’t look at Tyrion with a straight face anymore because this Tyrion is broken interpretation of his characterization in the book. His characterization has been reduced to “women are better than I am” and is treated as less. Both Tyrion and Littlefinger suffer this poor attempt at writing. Dany is more justified because she and Tyrion have different minds, she wants to be a conqueror and revolutionary, while Tyrion wants to serve a Queen. 

Sansa and Petyr, however, bothers me because I do not get where Sansa gained this wealth of knowledge and political insight as if she was taught at the Citadel. For example she says that she knows more about Cersei than anyone at the wall, but Petyr has served King’s Landing since Jon Arryn was Hand. He regularly held Council alongside the Queen for nearly a decade and used his guile and manipulation to have Cersei herself give him Harrenhal while plotting to kill her son that she has no idea that he was involved. Yet, Sansa treating Petyr as useless when Littlefinger is probably the largest schemer in Westeros. Him taking Sansa’s shit is out of character. “Because he loves her?” That did not stop him from manipulating Cat’s sister and starting a war knowing damn well that his beloved would probably be harmed. I’m sorry, but Little Finger’s ambition to be King trumps his infatuation with Sansa, and I presume that he would betray Winterfell and fight for the Queen because he knows Dany would be a problem to any designs he has to rule. Unless he allied with her to which, Littlefinger would have ran down to Dragon Stone before Jon.

The death of the Show!Sand Snakes was merciful to me because the debacle of the writing towards Dorne has been erased. Ellaria was a minor character who outgrew the revenge that took her lover away in the book. The show portrayed this woman as a thoughtless psychopath. There was no reason why they could not keep the Dorne plot as it was because that was arguably the best art in AFFC. Cersei’s POV made her seem incompetent and destroyed the perception that she was this cunning mastermind. Aegon was a little asshole. Look, A Feast For Crows was the cooling down period after the Holy shit that was A Storm of Swords.

Jaime…good fucking God. They betrayed everything about Jaime;s character. Everything. Jaime was presented as a conflict of the idea of being of knighthood as opposed to what a knight actually was. He is honorable whose one grievance that he despised rape. He witnessed the Mad King rape his wife with him at the door at guard. He despised how his father used him as a way to rape Tyrion’s wife. Jaime never got over the fact that he turned Cersei into a victim when CERSEI IS NO FUCKING RAPE VICTIM! Jaime’s reason of being redeeming was destroyed with that scene, and it has gone down hill since. Jaime knows that Cersei has been unfaithful and instead of being upset, he just turns a blind eye. Jaime feels his greatest feat was killing the Mad King when he threatened to burn Kings Landing down. He is honorable yet he made no connections that Cersei is just as bad as the Mad King? He is not privy to the irony? 

And then we have the issue that bothers me the most.

You expect me to believe that Euron sailed past Dany and Dragonstone unnoticed while delivering the capture of her closest allies. Also I doubt Olenna marched past King’s Landing to get back to High Garden so she sailed all the way around Dorne and gave the Citadel the finger, took the Mander River to Higharden? And Casterly Rock? Grey Worm took a few months Journey. The cycle of events in this war does not make sense. And I also question Tyrion’s tactics because he already has a position of advantage by seizing Dragonstone alone. His goal should have been cutting off fool supplies from the Westerlands(he did not need to take Casterly Rock) if he simply marched past Eyrie and set up a blockade around King’s Landing. His plan was convoluted and messy. 

And for those who need to keep tabs, Cersei controls King’s Landing(but not really because Dany is literally across the bay), part of Highgarden due to Sam’s dad, Riverrun(until she finds out that the Freys are dead), the Iron Islands. Jon and Petyr have the North, part of the Eyrie, and the Vale. Dany still has Dornish armies in spite of the Sand Snakes. Cersei is fucked if Petyr and Jon decide to join Dany. I am sure the Tully’s are looking for a quite of bit of revenge as well and if they band together as rulers of their lands, and if Dany hops on Drogon and decides to retake Highgarden, game over.

Edit: Corrected myself on the Stark lore. I assumed that Brandon would be the one to fight and challenge because he already challenged Rhaegar to defend his sister’s honor. Mixed up two different things.

Blood of Passage: Part Seventeen


Adrien studied the view of Veralis from his window. The Sidrah sparkled from the sun beaming down on it. His wings ached, his heart hurt. Everything was painful. From the inhale of breath to the blink of his eye. His shadows picked up the conversation between Maze, his mother and the healer.


“It will be months before he can just move them without pain. Longer to even fly. If he can. Nerve damage, scar tissue. Each pair are different.” The healer’s voice wasn’t unkind. It was skilled into professional kindness. His shadows betrayed her sadness.

His mother had a hand over her mouth, tears shone in her eyes. “What can I do? What can we do?”

“Time. He needs time and support from his family. And from those he loves. Keep his wings bound but let them breath for a few hours every day. He needs to have exercises to help circulation and healing. And perhaps for him to see someone? His mental state is very important. Does he have a mate? Or perhaps a significant other of some kind?”

“Me,” Maze said. “I’m his girlfriend.”

“He will need you the most. He will need all of you.”


He didn’t want their help. He wanted to find a hole and never crawl out of it. He didn’t want Maze there out of pity or his parents and brothers to fawn over him with looks of sympathy. He wanted to break the world apart before he broke himself apart.

At least in the mountain, there was Cyrian and his desire to kill the bastard for touching Maze and baiting him. He had his anger and rage and desire to get Maze out alive and his promise to her in that mountain. Now he none of it and he was filled with a sense of bottomless empty that was going to swallow him whole.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

How does one get better at fighting with a sword? I have a female character who was formally trained in swordfighting (being a noble heir) though she has a lot of room for improvement. I want a timeskip in which she trains and afterwards (is 6 months reasonable?) she is challenged by a pirate captain who has years of experience and talent in combat. She is going to lose and he isn't aiming to kill her. How would the fight play out realistically?

Realistically? She won’t kill him, her guards will. (She won’t even get close to him and his challenge is meaningless.)

This is the most important thing to remember: a female noble heir is the social and economic future of their household, if your pirate captain takes her then he gets to claim her which is the equivalent of stealing Alabama, Alaska, or California. Now do you think for a second her guards or her family will allow that to happen? (The answer is no.)

If you’re using pirates, then you’re probably pulling from the Golden Age of Piracy for inspiration, so between 1650 and 1726. It’s important to remember than aristocrats in any period before the 19th century were not decorative. Today, we (Americans especially) have a habit of confusing the echoes for the gunfire. We view the nobility and royalty like CEOs and other really rich people instead of what they really were: warlords, an important part of their nation’s command and control structure. Nobles were taught to fight because they needed to be capable of defending themselves from the peasantry, from other nobles, and from attempts at political assassination. Your heir is probably living in a period where she is expected to know how to fight because someone else is going to try to kill or kidnap her. While we’re talking about a period in history where the importance of the nobility was ending, it wasn’t there yet. Fencing as recreation hadn’t quite taken hold yet and your heir’s education is going to be for realities of the world she’ll be facing. This is also a period in history when training with live blades was not uncommon.

Nobles engaged professional swordmasters as members of their households to teach them and their children. Your girl is likely to have had a fencing blade in her hand by the time she was six years old, the standard training age for an aristocrat. It’s likely she was trained on a variety of weapons, but depending on your time period her main sword is likely to be either a rapier, an epee or another variant of smallsword, all of which will turn your pirate captain into Swiss cheese before he can say “what’s that?”. She’ll possibly also know how to use a longsword (still saw battlefield use) or a heavy saber (as opposed to the later lighter version of the fencing blade) as a cavalry blade, she’ll have been trained to use it from horseback in case she was ever called to military service by her monarch. If her family employs a professional duelist to fight for her father or mother in case of another noble challenging the family, she might have also trained with them. If her family doesn’t have the money or the family patriarch prefers to handle to duels themselves, it’s likely she was grilled by them regularly. As the heir, she’ll be under direct scrutiny from whichever figure is managing her education and training to ensure she can do her job when she eventually inherits management of the household/estate.

The problem here is that you’re thinking about this in terms of her not having any practical combat experience and conflating the 18th and 19th century nobility with the 16th and 17th century is a terrible, if common, mistake. Unless your pirate captain is a former member of the gentlemen class or noble class then the weapon he’ll be using is likely to be the cutlass, which while a fantastic weapon for boarding actions, is horribly outmatched by both the epee and the rapier when it comes to dueling. They’re both longer (reach and speed advantage) and faster (substantial speed advantage) and in the hands of someone who knows how to kill with them. Weapons are a great equalizer, your heir doesn’t need to be exceptional to kill him, she’ll be armed with the better weapon for the situation and has the knowledge to know how to use it in practical combat. Even if she’s armed with a longsword, she’ll win.

Here’s your first real issue: you’re conflating all types of combat experience together while ignoring the separate skill sets and types of experience. A pirate captain is going to be experienced in ship to ship combat and boarding actions, his exceptional talent is the handling of his crew and his ability to command. This is what he needs to be good at in order to maintain his position. Dueling is not going to be his focus, he may excel at dueling other pirates both with pistols and with swords but the question is who is he dueling? The caliber of your opponent does a lot to enhance skill, so does having the luxury to devote the necessary time to developing that skill. A boarding action is a mass melee, it’s not a duel. Even if he’s used to fighting multiple enemies, it’s going to be in fighting back to back with the support of his crew. His most common opponents are going to be other pirates, most likely drunk pirates, while on shore leave.  This doesn’t leave him a lot of time to come up with the skill necessary to hand a noble their ass in a one on one. A duel with your heir is going to end up looking a lot like Edmond Dantes’ first duel with Ferdinand in The Count of Monte Cristo (2002). Your pirate is Dantes, she’s Ferdinand and she’s got less reason to play nice. (It’s worth noting Ferdinand isn’t even considered an exceptional duelist and, at this point in the movie, he’s just got the advantage of his training.)

Now, he could be a former naval officer or son of a merchant with a business in overseas trade. However, this would mean he comes from either a wealthy merchant family or the middle/upper class. At this point in history officers were still expected to buy their commissions which meant ships were largely commanded by the rich/gentlemen and the sailors/grunts were pulled from the poor/uneducated.

The second issue: Heirs are incredibly valuable, incredibly valuable. Female ones especially because they are the means of carrying on your bloodline. A lot of effort and work by the head of the household goes into the heir because they are the economic and socio-political future of the family. Heirs are not allowed to engage in the same sort of risky business that a second or third child can get away with. A fairly decent modern comparison is Prince William versus Prince Harry, both are in the military but only one gets to fight on the front lines. Now, you can disinherit the heir to ensure that their progeny/new husband cannot claim their titles and lands but you lose all the effort that went into them in favor of (what is likely to be viewed as) a substandard second aka the spare. So, again, it would be like stealing Alabama and she doesn’t have the free time to run off for a weekend cruise with a strange man unless she’s intending to throw away everything anyway (and no one is going to let her).

Second to the Family Head, the Heir is the most well-defended member of the family. They’re not getting out of the house without an escort, these men (and women) will be among the most loyal and skilled men (and women) the house has at their disposal. She’s not going to go anywhere without them and has probably known them (somewhere between four to six) all her life. They may know her better than her parents do, they’re always there, and they will defend her with their lives. Not being a noble, your captain has no ability to challenge her directly even if she challenges him. He is going to have to go through them to fight her and they aren’t going to bother with a duel. They’re not going to fight him one on one, they’ll fight him together. He’s outnumbered and fighting better trained opponents (it’s going to be either three on one with one guarding the girl or four on one with two guarding the girl), so he’s dead.

It’s important to remember that a bodyguard’s job is not to do what their protectee wants, it’s to do what is best for them and ensures their safety. It’s their job to keep them alive, not to keep them happy. She’s not the one paying their salary, her parents are, and even if she was it wouldn’t make a difference. While her guards are fighting him, the other one (or two) will hustle her somewhere else to keep her safe.

Third Problem: In attempting to take her anywhere, he has shown he means her harm. Whether it’s to kill her, ransom her, or claim her as his wife is irrelevant, whether he actually intends any of those things is irrelevant. From her perspective, that of her family, and her guards, he intends her harm and if she’s forced to fight him then it will be to the death. Remember, these are threats she faces from the other members of her country’s nobility. She’s primed to respond to any threats to her person with deadly force and so are her guards, all of whom are likely to face much more talented combatants from their own class than the pirate captain. She has a vested interest in being better at combat than him and she will be because nobles are not sheltered fragile flowers who have the luxury of using money instead of force to protect themselves. The French Revolution was successful because of the number of peasants and the willingness to bury the aristocrats in bodies (which was what it took). It wasn’t because they were better warriors.

Let’s Recap:

Do Not Steal California: Heirs are valuable and important people, stealing them is a lot like stealing the ownership of a state. Lots of people are bound to try it and there are reasons their families take steps to ensure they won’t succeed.

A Rapier or Epee versus a Cutlass: both weapons have a reach advantage over a cutlass and are much, much faster. The pirate captain’s brain will not be used to fighting at it’s speeds and in a single unarmored bout, it will be over in one or two hits. In fact, historically the epee is so fast that it resulted in multiple double suicides during duels which is part of the reason we switched to fencing with blunted blades.

Nobles Are Not Decorative: Unless we’re discussing nobles in the 19th (excluding Russia), 20th, and 21st centuries then an aristocrat’s position was fraught with danger. Even in the 18th century when they were heading toward being obsolete, nobles were very dangerous individuals who faced a great deal of danger in their everyday lives both from the peasantry and members of their own class.

Depending on Context All Combat Experience Is Not Created Equal: while there were pirates who were very skilled duelists this was usually a skill they cultivated during the time before they became pirates (as members of the gentry). Pirate Captains needed to be skilled in naval combat, interpersonal skills, leadership, and other skills relating to raiding, theft, and seafaring leaving little time to focus on skills unnecessary to their general lifestyle.

Where the Heir Goes, The Guards Follow or Lead: A noble’s guards are never far away, they travel in packs and it’s their job to defend their master from harm. Getting through them to the protectee isn’t easy and the protectee is unlikely to thank you if you do.

Swords are made for killing: intentions are great, but swords are made for killing. The better the opponent, the less likely the option of not killing. With faster weapons, it becomes very easy to kill accidentally or a wound may become infected leading to death.

Think Leia, Not Gossip Girl: I didn’t actually throw this one out there in the above, but personality wise, you’re better off looking at Princess Leia (especially Leia from A New Hope) as opposed to modern day rich girls like Blaire Waldorf and Serena Vanderwoodsen. Think about Leia’s response to Han and Luke’s rescue attempt on the Death Star, particularly the part where she takes charge and shoots the Stormtroopers. Feisty yes, but also intelligent and capable of taking care of herself. They provide her with the opportunity to escape, but she’s more than able to act for herself when the moment comes and patient enough withstand the indignities and torture inflicted on her by Vader and Tarkin to wait it for it. She’s also all business once she gets out and is much better at providing direction than the boys are at finding it.

In short, he’s dead.

A solution: as fun as the concept of the Princess and the Pirate is most of your problems could be solved by removing the heir part from the equation. If writing a lazy layabout who isn’t interested in real work is your angle with this character then it’s best to go with a member of the family who has the unfortunate luxury of being a strain on finances simply by virtue of their birth. The third child or a bastard the Father/Mother/Family Head refuses to get rid of who gets all the privileges, none of the responsibility, and who the family doesn’t care enough about to take an active interest in their protection or their training will have a much better shot of doing what you want without all the messy complications. They also have a much, much better shot of being in a place where they and the pirate will actually cross paths. Younger children have a much higher likelihood of leaving the country to seek their fortunes or being in less savory places. (Do not have the pirate break into their house, homefield advantage is huge and estates/castles are designed to be deathtraps for invaders. Don’t do it, you can’t have a fight there without drawing twenty or more guards.)

A solution to the sword problem: they’re drunk. Your character is at a low point in their life, they’re in a bar feeling their failure, and they’re drunk when they challenge the pirate. This gives the pirate the luxury to feel sorry for them, you can subtly handicap their actual skill level, and give them the opportunity to grow as a person and a combatant without jeopardizing all the advantages a noble has access to.

Some Reading Suggestions/Historical Figures:

Julie La Maupin: The life of Julie La Maupin could quite literally fill any swashbuckling novel to rival the tales of Alexandre Dumas, her stories however have the advantage of being real. This brash, deadly, bisexual cross-dressing swashbuckler bucked the times and society to carve her own way in 1600s France.

Gurps: Swashbucklers, Roleplaying In The World of Pirates and Musketeers: The Gurps books tend be great reference material and this one is a great overview of everything you need to write about pirates and swashbucklers. It covers the history surrounding pirates and musketeers, the notable historical figures, the socio-political climates of the times, and pretty much everything else you’re going to need to build your setting.

The Three Musketeers by Alexander Dumas. While not a book about pirates, this novel (and the others by Dumas) will be helpful for getting into the frame of mind to write about swashbucklers and nobles. It gets closer to a period when the nobility was still considered relevant and treats them that way.

The Scarlet Pimpernel by Emma Orczy (1903), the foundation for superhero literature and secret identities, this is the novel that inspired Zorro and subsequently Batman. It follows the adventures of wealthy Sir Percy Blakeney in his adventures rescuing individuals sentenced to death by the guillotine during the Reign of Terror. In England, Percy presents himself as a dim fop to throw off suspicion that he (along with a band of merry friends) is the Scarlet Pimpernel, daring escape artist, master swordsman, and outside the box thinker. If nothing else, it’s a fun adventure novel read.

The Errol Flynn Collection: The Seahawk and Captain Blood especially, but I suggest a general review of the Golden Age Swashbuckling films.

The Mask of Zorro, The Count of Monte Cristo, anything with fight scenes choreographed by Bob Anderson for the spectacular sword work which may give you ideas.

Wikitenaur: pretty much the best resource for historical fighting manuals if you want to go outside modern fencing to get ideas for your fight scenes. You will have to slog through some older language, some of the manuals come with plates and translations. Others don’t.

Get a manual on fencing. Even if you don’t plan to take up fencing yourself, a manual for beginners will be helpful for getting the basic ideas and terminology down.

While I wouldn’t recommend Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag for it’s historical accuracy (cringeworthy, especially the way it messes with and reduces the awesomeness of some very incredible historical figures) or it’s combat accuracy (also cringeworthy), it’s ship combat is a lot of fun and may help you get into the right mood for when it comes to the fun side of pirates. This depends if you want to shell out for the price tag. The same is true of Pirates of the Caribbean. Decide what pirate theme you’re going with, compare Jack Sparrow with Peter Blood for reference and do some research into historical figures to help you with your captain. If you’re doing a gender equal setting, feel free to research and export the considerations for male nobility onto your female noble.

Have fun!


Kids like him didn’t go to schools like this, not in real life.

So he took photographs. One photograph after another, to chronicle their lives in this unworldly other world between here and there, as though having it all chronicled on film would make it somehow more real and not a dream that he would suddenly wake up from. A nobody from nowhere, son of a milkman, destined for somewhere in the middle if he was lucky and worked hard enough.

Every single photograph went home. Filed in an album. Something like six photographs a day. As though by taking photographs he could bring his mother and father across the divide. The way people send home postcards as signposts, to open little windows into strange new worlds for those less lucky. The same way people take photos on holidays or when they go overseas, as though they need photographic evidence to ascertain that yes, they were there and it wasn’t just a fancy pipedream, contrived by idle fantasy.

Because this was fantasy. This was the kind of fantasy you get in the storybooks.

He continued, even though he should have stopped when he caught the basilisk and it melted his camera out. Undaunted, he kept clicking away, though he had to get himself a new camera. That took some careful conniving. His da would’ve had a right fit if he knew the kinds of things they got up to on the other side of the divide.

(Sometimes photographs don’t always tell the whole story. Memories and times and places slip through the cracks and are lost forever. The story, laid out in photographs, is sometimes incomplete. Sometimes a bit too conveniently. There were things his mum and dad were better off not knowing. The bits that slipped through the photographs.

Things like mudblood.)

He still carried that bloody thing around with him in 1997, even in the thick of the fighting, even while he skulked around with Dean and Justin and the rest of the Resistance. You’ll want the pictures one day, he told them. So he went on clicking.

The war collection was different.

There were boys with guns far too big for them and girls with bruises and knives they wielded with deadly precision. The wounded and the broken. Angry sullen faces. Exhaustion and sometimes, despair. They should have all slid through the cracks and disappeared, but this time Colin Creevey chronicled it all. Denial, anger, acceptance. And in the middle of that, resilience. Smiles and laughter and heads bent over maps and people roasting sausages over open fires. Pranks, even. Christmas, 1997, with nothing very much to give each other except what little they could conjure with nothing but sheer willpower and whatever was at hand.

Because they were magic even if the rest of them said they weren’t.

He wasn’t even killed in crossfire. He was fighting. That last battle at the fringes of the Forest and a jinxed cutting curse came flying out of nowhere and all of a sudden heat and searing pain.

Justin Finch-Fletchley held him and looked on, helpless. Unable to stop the bleeding because their standard healing spells didn’t work on hexes like this and there was nothing they could do. All of them old enough that they’d had all the accidental magic drilled out of them, all of them too young to improvise.  Seven years of magic and the looming threat of war and no one had ever thought of teaching them countercurses or the kind of healing spells that could undo tainted curses. No one had ever taught them how to save lives in the middle of war and there was nothing Justin could do except hold on tight and nothing Dean could do except hold on to Dennis and keep him from doing something stupid.

Maybe if they’d been born to the right families. Maybe if they’d grown up with magic. Maybe if they’d had all that, they could have saved Colin Creevey. Maybe if they’d just fit better, instead of sticking out like sore thumbs. Maybe then Colin would have never had to die.

They took those pictures home, once the war was done.

Your son was a hero, they told his parents. A war hero.

They’d had no idea there was a war being fought, or that their son had been a target. Most Wanted. Most Wanted and with an Order of Merlin, Second Class and a coffin.

They all kept photos he’d taken of them. Dean had one of him bottling blood to send to the vampires down in Billingsgate. Blood for weapons. That was what this war was about, in the end. Blood - and who could spill it faster. Kevin had the one of him pummelling the air, drumming along to My Generation; peace in a time of war, because even the war wasn’t just all fighting. Justin Finch-Fletchley, even in his years as Minister for Magic, kept the one of him lying in the mud, with his grandad’s old world war two rifle aimed at the approaching Death Eaters. Displayed it like it was a badge. Magic and muggle.

Because that was what they were. Magic but every bit muggle and fucking proud of it.

It wasn’t a contradiction at all, though the rest of the wizarding world couldn’t understand and the papers remained forever uncomfortable with these boys and girls who wore their oddness as some kind of badge.

Colin had understood it and in that last year, he’d captured it all in photographs. The swift transition from carefree children to people who understood that there’d never really be a place for them in here unless they made it for themselves. Anger, acceptance, determination, pride.

And in the future, looking back, they were pretty damn glad he’d taken all those silly photographs because this way, somehow, the past stayed real and in terrifying technicolour. Because this way, the past could never die, no matter how much people wanted it to.


“(Y/N)!” Ashton called out and flailed his arms, desperately wanting to find you, since you were his seeing eyes. Ashton bumped into a sharp edge, and screamed out in pain. “(Y/N)! Where are you!?” he reached his hands out and heard footsteps in the distance. Suddenly, his back was pressed against a warm soft chest, and immediately began to calm down a bit, knowing that you didn’t leave him. He felt small hands snake underneath his muscular arms. Your small warm hand grabbed his left hand and gently wrote on his palm with your finger.

‘I - a-m - r-i-g-h-t - h-e-r-e.’

He let out a sigh and collapsed in your arms, and turned around and held you in a warm embrace, his head searching for neck to bury himself in, wanting to calm himself down, since his mind made him think that you had left him. Ashton always gets panic attacks when you aren’t holding his hand, or having some sort of contact with you. Why would you be around a boy who can’t even see? Why would he need you out of all people? Ashton and you aren’t all different. You both have a fault, something that society labels as handicapped, you being mute and him being blind. Both labelled as different, making you both understand each other on so many levels. You know that you have to look after Ashton. But you love him and despite everything. Ashton knows you love him. And Ashton loves you very much too.

Even if Ashton can’t see, he knows it’s a beautiful world outside this town, and knows for a fact that people are beautiful too, both inside and out, you being the main example of what true beauty is. You would spend hours all night telling him about how the world looks like, through touch communication, writing down letters on his skin, spelling out words so he could understand. You would lay back on Ashton’s chest and as Ashton would hold you close, his head resting on top of yours placing soft gentle kisses wherever he could. You would blush at how soft and tender his kisses felt on your skin, his lips sometimes landing near your ear, other times on the back of your neck, and other sensitive areas on your skin. It sometimes made you doubt that he was blind, because he would know exactly where to kiss you and would smirk every time your breath hitched, and even more when you two would share intimate times, always knowing where and how to touch you to make you writher underneath him.

But what he enjoyed the most was how you would hold his hand and began to white sweet nothings onto his hand and skin. Writing the phrase ‘I love you’ countless of times on his palm and would begin writing it all over his body, especially on the  area right over his heart, making him blush and heart race at you gentle touch. He would whisper his love back to you.

Sometimes you would give earphones to Ashton and you both would listen to music that speaks your feelings to each other. Ashton would show you songs about trashy love affairs and you would laugh about it, or you would show Ashton songs about soft and soothing love story songs. Music was your mutual way of communication since they would word feelings that you couldn’t say, or explain thing that he couldn’t see. To Ashton these moments are priceless treasures that he would treasure forever.

Every so often, you would take Ashton to the beach, since he loved it there, and you would try describing the color of the waves hitting the brown rocks or how the sun looks extremely beautiful when it’s setting. You would tell him that the sand was yellow and white, by saying that yellow was warm and happy, like the sun. The water was blue like the sky, by saying that it was calm and serene, just washing away both your worries. The sunset was filled with hues of orange and red, by saying those colors were passionate and strong. And he would say that if your relationship was a color it would be a mix of red and yellow colors.

When you both out in public, it’s a more dangerous environment because Ashton cannot let go of  your hand, he needed you so much because he was afraid that if he even let go for a second he could harm himself. He would hear cars or feel the breeze of a fast car and his hand would tighten in yours as well as his walking stick. He was afraid, but by you just being there it would ease the panic he went through. If an action required both of your hands, you would tell Ashton to hug you and to never let go unless you take his hand again.

People would say that you are a protective girlfriend. But really, you just really love and care for him, and he felt the same for you. He means the world to you, and you mean the same to him. He knew that if he lost you, all hell would break loose and he’d fall apart the moment you were no longer with him. He would be completely lost without you; you brightened up his days by just spending time with him. He knew that it was a great sacrifice for anyone to have a relationship with someone like him. He was blind; he would always need assistance in just about everything and throughout his whole life, and he would never be able to show you how thankful he is for you and your heart of gold. But he would show you how much he loves and appreciates you his whole life if you gave him the chance, and he hope that you would.

He loves the way at nights were spent just memorizing each other’s body. His hands acting as his eyes telling you how beautiful were, calling what you would call imperfections, perfect imperfections. He would tell you that he wanted to remember your whole body, faults and everything. And in turn you would write how beautiful his eyes were and when he took off his glasses that his grey like irises just made him look beautiful. He loves it when you compliment him, because some would find his eyes creepy to look at, and you would tell him how they sparkle under the moonlight.

‘Y-o-u-r - e-y-e-s - l-o-o-k - b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l.’ you would write on his hand. And then you would begin to write down how handsome he was, making Ashton blush.

You remembered how difficult it was to even communicate with Ashton. You both met when were at work being a part-time nurse assistant for the hospital that Ashton and his family visited. He would come in all the time, especially when his mum got sick. You immediately spotted him, mainly hear his laugh at the end of the hall as he visited his mother. He had one of the most contagious laughs, that as you heard his laugh it made you smile at how nice it was. You immediately noticed how handsome he was. But you soon found out that he was blind, and there was no possible way you could have any relationship with him, for you were mute.

Ashton’s mother noticed that you smitten with his son, and actually liked you for his son. He knew that with you he would be in good hands. She introduced you to Ashton, and just like you smitten with Ashton, he was taken with you too. At first he couldn’t really communicate with you, unless you used text to speech apps. But soon he took the decision to try to learn another way to communicate, which would be through to touch. You knew sign language, but it would be useless since Ashton couldn’t learn, given that had spent his whole entire life being blind.

Ashton soon began to learn, what you two would call touch communication with the help of you and your own family and his mother. You would help him understand letter, numbers, and words, by tracing them onto his skin that always made his body shiver by your gentle touch. At times you needed spell things out twice since he was so distracted by you running your fingers along his skin, which even to this day made him shiver.

Today was your lazy day; you had nothing to do but to hang out with Ashton. Ashton searched for your hand, and when he found your hand, he began to draw tiny circles on your palm, tickling you nerves, and smile a bit. Your hands were small and delicate, for which Ashton needs to grasp them gently and treat them like the finest glass, which he gladly did. He leads your hands to his chest, moving your left hand behind his neck and your right hand on his heart, wanting you to feel how you made his heart race, you and only you. You rests your head right under his collar bone and breathes in softly. You relax as you inhale his natural scent and he did the same to you, feeling his hand trace across your skin.

He exhales quietly.  “It’s been twenty-three months,”

‘A-l-m-o-s-t - t-w-o - y-e-a-r-s,’

“-Since we’ve been together.” Ashton finishes the sentence.

That same night, you took Ashton to the beach again. The sun had already set and most of the people are gone off the beach. It was just you two. You took Ashton’s hand told him that it was dark outside and everyone is gone.

‘I - a-l-w-a-y-s - l-o-v-e-d - b-e-a-c-h-e-s.’

Even throughout everything you’ve done for each other, all the complications and faults in your relationship, at the end, you two are the ones who keep it strong and alive, because you both didn’t care what others thought, because if they knew what your relationship was like, they would wish they had a relationship like yours.

‘A-s-h-t-o-n – I – f-e-e-l – s-a-f-e – i-n- y-o-u-r – a-r-m-s’ you wrote onto his forearm, pressing your face against his chest.

He embraces you closer into a hug and began to touch his face. Your hands began to trace his face your fingertips tracing up his cheeks until you find his left ear.  “I love you.” he whispers. He wraps his arms around you and you grab his left hand write the following:

‘I - l-o-v-e - y-o-u - t-o-o.’


Ok so I got like a good number of doing either blind Ashton and one person to do a deaf Michael, which I may actually do since I have a certain scenario in mind. So yea tell me what you think of this one, hopefully it wasn’t too bad. So should I do a deaf Michael, the request said she would prefer Michael but any of the boys would do, so should I do deaf Michael, or with one of the other boys. LET ME KNOW :)



WELL BYE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

||At Your Service||

Aahhhhh it’s finally finished after three days of writing!! >__< I hope you like it anon! Kili is my favorite character in The Hobbit so it was definitely a fun one to write. <3

Tagging: beardedbowmanmaytheybeblessedtheimpalascrossbownotthatsortofburglareyesxfireindefinitely-stephaniejusttolkienabouttwilarose3333ashrynofmirkwoodsmaug-the-delusionaljohn-ancient-machine-mitchell, nothingximminent

Story: KilixReader
Words: 3024
Type: Fluff 

I hope you like it anon~! <3

||At Your Service||

“Dammit KilI! Not again!” You groaned, running after the mischievous dwarf laughing at your struggles. “How am I suppose to do night watch if you keep stealing my sword!”

“Dunno,” Kili grinned, moving swiftly through the forest around the camp. “Maybe you should pay more attention to your surroundings so your stuff doesn’t get stolen. You are doing nightwatch after all,” Kili winked at you.

“That’s not fair!” you growled. “Last time you did night watch, you lost the ponies and nearly got us all killed by trolls!”

“Sure! Blame me, not Fili!” he crossed his arms gruffly, obviously unhappy with your response. Serves him right.

“He is more responsible than you. You’re reckless, y’know,” you grinned evilly with a chuckle, using his mother’s words against him. “Now sword,” you raised your eyebrow, holding your hand out for your weapon back, “unless you’d like me to be killed because of my lack of a weapon.”

“Noooooo,” he heaved a heavy sigh and gave the sword back to you. “Please though,” he lowered his tone, his eyes locking with yours. “Be careful. I don’t like that Thorin is putting you on guard so by Mahal please be careful.”

You rolled your eyes, making sure to keep your composure in front of the darling prince. You didn ‘t know why he was so worried over a simple night watch. You had done it plenty times before, and Thorin would not have trusted you with this task if you were not fit to defend the camp and yourself. Your eyes glided by his glimmer of worry and concern. You had no knowledge of the dwarf’s thoughts or desires, nor the argument he previously had with his Uncle over your safety. He was still uneasy that you had accompanied them, wishing you would have instead stayed in the Iron Hills with his mother.

But you were not one to allow action to pass you by, and protecting yourself was something you had grown accustomed to in the presence of this playful dwarf. Lately, it was this dwarf that had been causing your thoughts more trouble than usual, his voice, his words, his actions parading in your head enough to make you nearly blush in front of the young price.

“Kili, I’m always careful,” you shook your head, smiling lightly at his worry.  “I have to go or Thorin will be mad. Get some rest,” you whispered, your lips tempting to divulge other choice words while he stood before you.

Kili bowed to you and smiled, whispering, “Of course dear,” before he left for the cave where the company was residing.

You paid no mind to his actions, but your heart said otherwise, wanting those very words to be directed for you and only you. You had grown to know the young dwarf prince since you were both children. Though human, your family had helped the dwarves fight in their war but none survived besides you. His family took you in and raised you. Over the years, he became more than a friend to you. If only he felt the way you did. It would make the relentless flirting more bearable.

You sighed, taking your seat before the fire, the stones and leaves of the forest floor digging into your hands. You paid no mind, enjoying the dance of the flames in their orange and red hues. It gave you comfort and peace, something you severely lacked traveling with the company. Lately, your thoughts had been quite jumbled with visions of desires for the younger dwarven prince flashing through your head as the flames ate the wood.

You tossed another branch into the fire in an effort to keep it alive. Thorin had warned against it, not wanting to attract more attention to the camp than necessary. You were, however, freezing and if you were made to keep watch, then you preferred to not be an icicle. Thus, that argument was won.

Even with the blazing flames, your skin crept with goosebumps, feeling the cool breeze wave over your tiny body. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel Kili’s arms snaking around you, his chapped lips grazing your cheek, his callused fingers rubbing against your arm to keep you warm. Your heartbeat thumped against your chest as the drums did during big celebrations in the Iron Hills. It was relentless, the torture your mind brought you through. Would the yearning never end? 

Your fingers fumbled with the braids Kili and Fili had given you before you embarked on this journey, a promise that they would keep you safe. Dis had nearly placed an axe to both of her sons if they did not return with you. You chuckled to yourself, your eyes flooding with visions of you and Kili roaming around the fields back home. Would you three even make it back alive?

Your eyes stung lightly with the ash blown in the wind as you tried to focus on the blurry twinkles of starlight in the night sky. You wouldn’t allow yourself the privilege of tears. This was a much needed journey for the company. As wary as you were about the cause, you knew how much it meant to the dwarves to take back their homeland. At least you were here with them, your odd family that you had grown to love so much. 

You rubbed your eyes, attempting to remove the ash from your eyes when your ears stopped you from your menial task. Every movement in your body stopped. The sound of crunching leaves lurked behind you, barely above a whisper. Your fingers curled around the hilt of your sword, the other hand grasping your matching dagger.

Careful footsteps crept behind you. You were quick to stand up, turning around with your blades pointed at the victim. “Who’s there?” you asked, your voice wanting to mimic the tremble that reigned in your heart, but your body stood still. Your eyes narrowed, trying desperately to identify the victim in the dark, the flames only elevating the silhouette of the person. “Who’s there?” you repeated, your tone darkening as the night with the lack of an answer.

“It’s…it’s just me,” came the weak shaking tone.

“Bilbo?” you peered with the fire lighting the hobbit’s face a little more. “Bilbo!” You sighed in relief, setting your weapons down. “What are you doing sneaking up on a lady during any type of duty!” You shook your head, happy that it was only him instead of another murderous creature who had a taste for dwarf, hobbit, and human flesh.

“I….I only thought you would enjoy some company and dinner,” he said softly, shaking from the experience. You nodded in understanding. It was to be expected. The poor hobbit was only just getting use to running from being killed.

“Ahh, heh, sorry. It’s a reflex,” you chuckled sheepishly. “Please,” you motioned to the ground next to your weapons, “have a seat with me.”

The hobbit nodded, shuffling aside the leaves in order for him to have some place to sit that wouldn’t completely dirty his clothes. “I must admit that you did startle me, but your reflexes are quite honed,” Bilbo smiled kindly.

“Yours would be too if you grew up with Fili and Kili,” you smiled at the hobbit, leaning back on your arms as you stared at the night sky above. You rather liked the hobbit. He was good company and had his merits, besides the inability to fight, something that would be perfected during the travels she was sure.

“I suppose to. They did leave me alone with those trolls,” he laughed heartily.

“They tend to do that,” you laughed, pulling your knees closer to your body to keep yourself warm from the wind. The fire helped some, but it wasn’t enough since it had to be kept at a low flame to avoid attracting attention per Thorin’s orders. Bilbo noticed your shivering state, perking up to remove his cloak.

“Here you go Miss,” he smiled warmly, draping it over your shoulders. “No need for the lovely lady keeping us safe to freeze out here.”

“Ummm, thank you,” you blinked, looking at him in an odd manner. You were rather unsure of what else you could say to his gesture. Yes, the dwarves were kind to you and accepted you as family, but being accepted as their family meant you were placed in the middle of all their boisterous activities and treated as one of the dwarves. That unfortunately also meant that chivalry was not always shown towards you as one would expect. Certainly not with the company of thirteen of them placed together in the same place.

“Won’t you be cold as well?” you finally managed, pulling the cloak closer around your body.

“I assure you, I’ll be fine. My mother always taught me to be gentle and polite to women, no matter what race they were,” Bilbo smiled, helping you feed another branch into the flames. “Besides, I rather like the fire. It reminds me of home.”

“Yes, it is quite peaceful out here,” you bit your lip and smiled, feeling much more at ease. “It’s a nice change compared to our usual adventures as of late,” you giggled, allowing your body room to stretch a bit.

“Ahh yes,” Bilbo nodded. “It must be nice to accompany your friends. I know Fili and Kili enjoy having someone else travelling along with them.”

You couldn’t help but blush at the mention of Kili’s name, your fingers twirling around one another nervously. “I…I honestly have no idea what you mean, dear hobbit.”

“Ohhh, but I think you do, dear friend,” Bilbo grinned. “I may be quiet, but I am quite observant. I see the looks you two share regardless of whether you think you’re cleverly hiding it!”

“W-what? You do not! There are no looks!” you exclaimed, perhaps a bit too much. You grumbled at the hobbit’s clever ways, absentmindedly playing with the beads Kili had braided into your hair so long ago before you immediately stopped your action. Curse that adorable dwarf for squirming himself into every part of your life! If you could not have him out of your thoughts, the least he could have done was stay away from your hair. Your frustrations were interrupted by the realization that seconds had passed by without you uttering a single word to Bilbo.

“Aahhhh, there it is!” Bilbo laughed triumphantly. “The early blush of a girl in love,” he smirked. “I must say, it is a lovely thing to see after traveling with so many dirty dwarves for days. The pink on your face suits you quite well. In fact, I think you look rather pretty with a blush.”

“I….umm…thank you,” you stuttered, turning away from the fire so as to not alert Bilbo of the truth in his words. 

“No need to thank me, my dear,” Bilbo kindly. “I only speak the truth. He would be mad to not fall for a lady such as you. Though…” the hobbit shifted himself closer to you and pulled his draped cloak closer to your body to clasp it shut.

If only it was Kili who thought that about you. You sighed, your mind flooding back to your dear prince. Perhaps there was a chance with your young prince, but you doubted he would give you the chance. They had always treated you as family, and you feared that would be where your place would stay for the remainder of your time with them. It wasn’t until you felt Bilbo’s arms around you that you were aware of how close the hobbit truly was to you at the moment. One move and your dinner would have spilt into the fire, a deed you drastically did not want to occur.

“W-what,” you gulped, “what are you doing?”

“You’ll see, dear friend,” Bilbo winked as he pulled himself back into his usual seat, adjusting your dinner accordingly. “You really should eat though. You haven’t had a proper meal yet.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you narrowed your eyes at the hobbit. You had already learned much from him. With his observation skills and his twisting of words, she had no doubt that Gandalf had chosen him for the pure use of those abilities. “I am rather starved,” you said slowly, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the hobbit smiled, puffing his pipe contently.

You only managed a few small bites of the stew before you heard a loud noise crashing behind you. You stood up quickly, startled as you reached out for your weapon to face your unwillingly victim before your eyes widened at who that victim, lying flat on his face from the stumble he presumably took actually was.

“Kili?!” you let out a sigh, thankful that they weren’t being attacked but annoyed that he had interrupted your meal. You groaned, pulling him up before you slapped his arm. “What the hell are you doing sneaking on me like that?! I could have killed you!”

“Ha! As if,” he scoffed, dusting the dirt off his clothes before turning his attention towards you. “I could have asked you the same thing!”

“What do you mean?” you groaned, using your sleeve to clean the dirt off his adorable face. “I’m keeping watch as Thorin commanded me too. You do remember who Thorin is right? Your uncle? The…”

“Rightful king of Erebor, yeah yeah,” Kili finished, rolling his eyes. You both had heard his uncle’s speech one too many times when preparing for this journey. He straightened up, his eyes as angry as the flames burned. “I do believe my uncle commanded you keep watch. Not keep that hobbit company!”

Bilbo merely looked up with a small smile, turning back to the fire as he listened to your argument. It was rather enjoyable for him to watch, his eyes twinkling as Gandalf’s usually were.

“That hobbit! That hobbit is my friend who brought me food!” you growled along with your stomach. “Which is more than you had done!”

“How was I to bring you food if I was suppose to be taking care of the ponies!”

“You’re always taking care of the ponies Kili! It’s your job!” You ran your hands through your hair, clearly frustrated. You had no idea what ponies had to do with your conversation. Actually, you had no idea what anything he said had to do with your current situation in general. “And this,” you said tightly through pressed lips, your fingers trembling from the anger, “is what Thorin had assigned for me to do for the company, to keep you safe! Why is that so hard for you to grasp!”

“Because you shouldn’t be keeping me safe!”

You were about to say something until you heard his words pausing your actions. You saw his eyes, and it broke you. His normal playful eyes, sparkling as the sun touched the waters, were casted over. “Kee…” you murmured softly, your hand instinctively reaching out for his.

“I’m suppose to be watching the camp,” he muttered, unable to face your eyes. “I should be bringing you food. I should be protecting you, not that damned hobbit.”

“Oy! I’m still here!” Bilbo protested, grumbling at the words, which Kili completely ignored.

“It scares me enough that you joined us on this quest, but for you to be doing such dangerous tasks…. “ he shook his head, looking at you with pleading eyes. “It should be me keeping you warm, me holding you. No one else.”

You tried to form words, but your mouth disobeyed you as did your throat. Was…was he jealous? Of a mere hobbit? You could think of nothing to say that would suffice your thoughts. So you said nothing. You stood there, a smile slowly curling on your bashful face as your brought your hand still wrapped in his to your lips. “No one else will,” you said softly against his trembling hand.

You watched as Kili’s eyes softened at your gentle touch. He reached his hand out to touch your pale face, his forehead so close to yours. You could feel his breath against your cheek, his lips so close to yours. “By Mahal, I promised I would bring you back alive, and by Mahal, I promise that I will protect you as my only one,” he murmured to your ears. “That task is mine and mine alone.”

“Yours alone,” you nodded against him, tilting your head to give him a kiss on the cheek when he captured your lips instead. You gasped as his hands unclasped the cloak and embraced you, his lips deliciously warm and soft against yours. You closed your eyes and smiled into the kiss. He was indeed your Kili, and you were his.

After what was indeed fluid moments but felt as yearning hours, you broke apart, smiling at the dwarf who had grew to be the love of your life. You could hear Thorin in the distance calling Kili back for some form of duty. “Go. He needs you,” you smiled gently. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here.”

Kili nodded, reluctantly letting go of your hand to accompany his uncle. You bit your bottom lip, pleasantly surprised. Your body was quite warm now. Even the night chill had no effect on you.

Bilbo chuckled as he stood back up, grabbing his cloak as he went. You turned to him, crossing your arms as you peered your eyes at the clever hobbit. “What did you do?”

“Whatever do you mean, my dear?” he smiled blissfully so. “I neither said or did anything that was not truthful nor observant.”

“Mhmmm,” you raised your eyebrow at him.

“Call it an act to help a treasured friend. Now I must be going. I do believe I am needed with the company as well,” Bilbo laughed at your behavior. However, before walking away, Bilbo turned to you and grinned. “Perhaps now, Kili will not trick me into facing a multitudes of trolls either.”

You giggled, shaking your head at the clever hobbit. “Thank you, dear friend.”

With those words, he bowed deeply and winked. “At your service.”

A Better Life

Characters: Sam / Reader

Requested by anonymous:  can you do one where the reader and Sam were together, but the reader vanishes and they cant find her? then a year later, they’re hunting a jinn and she’s there, completely out of it, and almost dead?

Warnings: swearing

A/N: I’m going to change the year to a week, because I’m not quite sure if a Djinn would keep someone for over a year…It’s possible, but since I’m not sure, I’m just going to stick with something I’d be more comfortable with :)

“Mary, do you happen to know where Sam is?” you asked, turning toward your soon-to-be mother-in-law. 

“I’m sorry, y/n, he said he was going out with Dean for the day. He didn’t mention when he’d be back,” she replied, smiling sorrily at you. 

You shrugged, not caring as long as someone knew where he was. “I’ll just hang out with you here, then,” you decided, grinning and scooting closer to her on the couch. 

“That sounds great,” she agreed, wrapping one of her arms around you in a quick hug before pulling away and turning on the TV. 

“Dammit Dean, where could she be?” Sam grumbled, slamming his hands on the dash board. 

“Sam, we figured out where the Djinn is. We’re almost there,” Dean replied, sighing. He knew that Sam was worried about you, but it was starting to get a bit annoying to be honest…

“I’m sorry,” Sam apologized, leaning back in his seat. “It’s just…it’s been a week, Dean. I’m starting to freak out, in case you can’t tell.”

“Oh, I can tell, alright,” Dean chuckled dryly. “Listen, I get it. You’re worried. I’m worried about y/n, too. But we’re so close, so unless something goes seriously wrong while we’re getting her back, she’ll be with you soon.”

Sam nodded, understanding that there was nothing he could do now except prepare to kick some Djinn ass. 

“We’re back!” Dean shouted through the house, Sam trailing behind him. 

“Where did you guys go?” John asked, standing up to greet them. 

“Ah, just went out shopping to get some stuff for Sammy’s bachelor party,” Dean smirked, nudging his brother. 

“There’s only gonna be three people there, Dean,” he shook his head while smiling. “You, Dad, and I.”

“So? That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have the best night of your life! Well, besides you and y/n’s wedding night,” he joked, winking. 

“Aaand, that’s enough,” you laughed, standing up and hugging Sam. “I can’t believe we’re getting married in less than a week,” you chuckled into his chest so that only he could hear you.

You felt Sam nod and kiss the top of your head. “I’m so excited,” he admitted. “You’re going to look so beautiful.”

“Oh, and I don’t anyways?” you asked, putting your hands on your hips. You were joking of course; Sam knew that. 

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Sam told you, taking your hand as the two of you made your way to the couch. 

“My baby boy is getting married!” Mary gushed, putting her hands up to her face to emphasize her excitement. 

“Alright Sam, don’t get all reckless when you see y/n there. Keep a level head; we don’t need you getting caught, too,” Dean reminded his brother. 

“Got it,” Sam nodded. “Let’s go.” With that, he pushed open the door to the warehouse and jogged inside. 

After about a minute of looking around, Sam heard Dean call his name. Sam rushed over to where his voice was coming from.

There you stood, held up by chains wrapped around your wrists. It took all of Sam’s strength to not run over to you right now. Thankfully, Dean said, “Sammy, go over to y/n. Wake her up. I’ll look for the son of a bitch that took her.”

Sam nodded his thanks and went over to you, quickly undoing the chains that held you in place. As soon as he undid them, though, you fell over, so he had to hold you up. 

“y/n?” he said, ignoring the feeling of panic he got when you didn’t wake up and instead focusing on how happy he was that you were back in his arms. “Wake up.”

When you didn’t move, Sam shook you a bit. “y/n? Can you hear me?” His face brightened when he saw you starting to move. 

“Sam?” you asked, opening your eyes. “What happened?”

“A Djinn got you. You’re back in real life now, though.”

You groaned, realizing what that meant. “I wanted to stay,” you complained, slouching. 

“Why?” Sam wondered. “What happened?”

After deciding that he should know what your hallucinations were, you told him, “Your mom was alive, Sam. And so was your dad. We were all happy and living in Lawrence, and you and I….we were getting married in less than a week,” you said that last part with a laugh. “It was…perfect.”

Sam didn’t say anything for a while. Right as you were beginning to regret telling him, he said, “Well, we can’t do anything about my mom or dad. And we can’t settle in any one place for too long…”

“But?” you asked, sensing that there was something else he wanted to say. 

“We can work on that last part coming true.”

Request here

absnow  asked:

Possible prompt for AwkwardOneNightStand!Everlark if it inspires you: It's the day after Christmas at the mall -or- it's NYE at a bar -and- we have to stop meeting like this

okay because i like you. (parts 1 and 2)

For the tenth time that day, Katniss looks at her phone. Every time she unlocks the screen, it opens immediately on Peeta’s last text to her.

I know this is a shot in the dark considering how our last two meetups have gone, but I’ll be at The Hob tonight for NYE if you’re interested in coming. At least let me buy you a drink to apologize for the awfulness that is my family.

Really, he owes her five drinks, at least, to appropriately compensate for the horror she endured on Christmas day. Even a week later, she’s still embarrassed just thinking about what happened. After they left his bedroom, Peeta tried to intercept his nephew before he could get downstairs, but the 3-year-old’s shout had unfortunately captured everyone’s attention since they’d already started wondering where Peeta and Katniss had disappeared to.

And looking as flushed and disheveled as they had, neither could come up with a quick enough explanation as to why they’d sneaked up to his room during dinner. His mother had started screaming bloody murder about “that hussy” Katniss corrupting their son on Christmas, simultaneously crying about “poor sweet Madge.”

Katniss had been too stunned to respond, so she was surprised when Effie jumped to her defense, accusing Peeta of being just as much of a “hussy.” Which led to a screaming fight between her and Peeta’s parents.

She didn’t stick around to find out what happened next. In the midst of the chaos, Haymitch offered her ride to her house, and Katniss was more than willing to risk her life with him behind a wheel than endure anymore assaults on her character. Peeta had tried to apologize before she left, but she’d just waved him off, too mortified to talk to him. He’d called once and sent two other texts to apologize. Her responses were stilted and, she’d thought, pretty final.

So his invite to New Year’s Eve baffles her. She hasn’t responded; she’d already made plans to go to a friend’s party for the night, so she thought the point was moot, anyway.

Except she keeps checking her phone, rereading the message. Wondering if she shouldn’t be committed for even potentially considering going. After all, any sane person would have gotten the hint by now, right? An awkward hookup that ended in an emergency trip to a pharmacy plus the Christmas day catastrophe at his family’s house–clearly, the universe is trying to tell them something. So she would be a glutton for punishment to indulge him.

And clearly, Peeta is a masochist. That’s the only explanation for his enduring interest in her.

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gaurdian9sunshine  asked:

This is probably an AU prompt. You'll understand when I continue. After the events of Mythal's temple and having drank of the well, Morrigan fears for her life and her son's life so she turns to King Alistair and asks for his protection, and he happens to be the father.

The Child

She is waiting.
Blood of the Goddess in your veins.
She lives on. She endures.
The child. The child.
Go. Follow. Mythal calls to you.
It is your birth rite, Daughter of Dragons.

Morrigan steadied herself, closing her eyes to try and stop the incessant whispering. It was not a sound she could hear like a thought, but an echo resonating deep within her bones. An inescapable scraping that formed words and consciousness. The ever-present feeling that Flemeth was watching her, creeping behind the dark corners of her thoughts, guiding her mind until she questioned whether her ideas and actions were even her own anymore.

She never should have taken from the Well.

Her eyes scanned the room, remarking on how things had changed since the last time she was here. The bones of the room were the same, but none of the trappings. It was no longer a space for sleeping. The bed was gone. A broad and sturdy desk now sat centered in front of the wide arc of the fireplace. The table that once resided in the corner was now replaced by a bookcase. She found it curious that he would choose this room as his private study. It held little significance, outside of it having once served as Myra’s quarters before the final battle. The last time Morrigan had been here, it was to convince the Warden to let her perform the ritual with Alistair. She knew it would be useless to go to him directly. Despite his desire not to see her die, he would have deferred to her judgment on the matter. She needed Myra’s help to convince him to go through with it.

“This is why I saved the man and not the woman alone.” Flemeth had said coolly as her daughter packed her belongings. “That is the purpose he will serve.”

Morrigan had hated the idea from the start and it had tainted every word she shared with the idiot. She knew what was at stake, however. There would only be one chance to preserve the soul of an Old God. Flemeth had put all of the pieces into place. All Morrigan had to do was use her body as a vessel for the child.

She cared little about the sexual nature of the act. Sex was something that made men stupid slobbering dogs and caused women to sob over some notion that romantic love was to be everlasting and pure. Knowing Alistair, she honestly expected the latter from him. But he served his purpose. He did what he had to do to save Myra. The act was relatively quick, though not as swift as Morrigan would have liked. He had some difficulties given their circumstances, but she knew enough about male physiology to elicit the response she required. She did not mind that he kept his eyes closed. Though she found his grimacing unnecessary, it was preferable to having him look at her. He said nothing when it was finished – merely dressed himself and left, presumably to return to his betrothed and reassure himself that Myra was not hurt by what they had just done. He avoided Morrigan during the final battle, wordlessly diverting his gaze. She took no offense. It suited her preferences.

As much as she hated doing her mother’s bidding, as much as she loathed the idea of conceiving a child with Alistair – the birth of Kieran made up for all of that. It never tainted her feelings towards him. He was her son, the bright light in the gloomy darkness from which he had been created. He meant the world to her and she would do anything to protect him.

Even if that meant speaking to the idiot again.

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Let's take another look at Asriel, and how he can be saved. (An imagine in the middle) (suicide mention)

To start off, I don’t agree that Asriel being doomed makes the game better. To be honest, actually, I feel like that part of the story was quite rushed, and didn’t develop the character nearly enough to make that interpretation satisfying.

You meet Asriel for a very short time. And yet he comes to terms with his past, his wrongdoings, and is finally at peace with himself in at most, an hour?

Does he really believe that being “forgiven” by someone who he’s barely toyed with, let alone known, would just wash away the evil that he was? Or that by destroying the barrier it somehow counterbalances out, like some kind of moral debt that he paid off? I find that very difficult to believe from someone who is as sensitive and kindly as he is.

Here’s what I think is going on. Asriel’s not at peace with himself at all. He’s putting on a warm face, so that you’ll get some closure. Thus you wouldn’t have to burden yourself with his fate. Like how a suicidal person might give away their possessions, Asriel is trying to assure you that you’ve done all that you can, so that he’s not tethered to the world by you caring for him anymore. He’s trying to make you happily give up on him.

Deep down, he feels he just shouldn’t be a part of that happy ending. Even if he didn’t turn back into Flowey, he doesn’t think he can go back to being their son anymore, knowing that all the years of torment and suffering he’s caused has warped his mind and personality. He just can’t be the sweet child that his mother has always loved. That’s the role he wants you to fill in his stead. He wants you to replace him.

So what does he plan to do after you leave? Perhaps he plans to finally commit suicide like he wanted to at first (but failed), and kill the memory of Flowey with him as well. Perhaps he wants to make a new identity for himself and become a different person. (Hence why he asks you not to think of him as Asriel, if you ever see him again.)

But it’s not that Asriel has no hope of coming back. Unless you believe that the world literally ends after you stop playing the game, there’s always the hope that at some unspecified point in the future, long after the game ends, new possibilities arise and Asriel can be saved.


So, I want you to imagine: Even as he tries to kill himself again, it might just be that the primal feeling he felt the first time he tried–determination, will prevent him from doing it. Something might just stop him from leaving the world, like how a human soul stubbornly lingers after the host dies. So he actually can’t kill himself, still. It even might just be that determination, the resolve to change fate, will keep him from changing back into Flowey.

I don’t think it would be “perfect” like people would complain, though. His existence will most likely be horribly painful. Emotionally, he’s still a child, and this child will deal with knowing that he was the most wretched thing in all of existence. He can’t run away from his own guilt. He’ll live through each day knowing that he was the bad guy of the story. There’s never really a “saving the bad guy.” Saving a bad guy is just revealing that he was an “okay guy” all along. But for true, wretched villains like him, there’s just defeating him and the joy of defeating him. The devil doesn’t deserve mercy.

All the memories of what he did will probably haunt him for a long time, possibly his whole life. He might not even be able to look his parents in the eye, without some terrifying memory of their disfigured and pained faces in some distant timeline. He’d probably never be able to talk to anyone, except maybe you (Frisk). He’ll be in solitary confinement inside of his own mind, guarded and abused by his own memories.

Imagine that one recurring nightmare that he might have would probably involve Sans, holding a terrible, almost sadistic grin on his face, giving him the torturous and yet well-deserved justice that never came. And in all of those dreams, Sans seems happy. Happy to destroy him.

Asriel will hardly make any friends, and he’ll be very difficult to talk to. He smiles sometimes, forgetting for a moment who he was, but it all comes crashing back down on him. Sometimes he tries to make you go away like he did the first time you met him. Other times he might cry for hours on end.

And the worst part is, you can’t save him like you did with everyone. Not because it’s inevitable that Asriel has to suffer, but because some things are not yours to save. This terrible existence is Asriel’s to bear. You might be able to provide the companionship that he desperately needs, but ultimately, it’s Asriel’s fight, and only he can win it.


I don’t think the moral of Asriel’s story in Undertale is necessarily that Asriel is doomed, and that one has to accept that some people are just going to go to hell. But you can’t save everyone– just like you can’t just MAKE your friend feel better. 

Sometimes, the best you can do is stay beside them and be with them. Sometimes, the best you can do is let time unfold, and allow new possibilities to arise. Just because you can’t help someone immediately doesn’t mean that they cannot be helped.

Asriel might suffer from being alive. But if he faces his demons and wins, maybe it’ll bring him joy that he never knew before. Or he might die, never having faced his demons at all. 

Whatever happens, that’s Asriel’s adventure to have, not ours.

anonymous asked:

Any thoughts on spinner!Rumple being called abusive and misogynistic?

Give me a sec to get the eye rolling and head desking out of the way.

Okay.  So I might rant a little, but it’s not aimed at you anon.

To claim spinner Rum is abusive and/or misogynistic you have to make so many assumptions about a society that we’ve barely seen and can’t compare to anything since it’s in a whole other world.  You also have to assume things about their relationship that are never seen and go contrary to things we do know.

Let’s look at misogynistic first.  I hear this argument about Milah being forced into the role of mother and wife.

Milah: I love you, too. When you return, we can start living the life we’ve always dreamed of.

Rumpelstiltskin: Yeah…

Milah: We can have a family.

See how Milah is the one to talk about them having a family?  At no point is Rum forcing her into it.  It’s not until he comes home from war that things change.

But hey, he told her she had responsibilities, right?

Because anyone who has a child has responsibilities.  I don’t care if it’s baby sitter, grandparent, parent, foster parent, teacher, older sibling, the parent of a friend when their friend is visiting.  If a child is in your care be it ten minutes or 18 years you have a responsibility to keep them safe.  

When Milah is at the pub she is drinking and gambling and Bae (at the age of 4 or 5) is home alone.  There is no canon that at any point she says that she doesn’t want to be a mother or take care of him.  She says she wants them all to leave, but never is there a point where it’s relieved that they’ve had a conversation about her not taking care of Bae. 

Rum comes home from work to find his very young child is alone.  And you know what is amazing to me?  He doesn’t badmouth Milah to Bae.  Ever.  

Where’s mum? …Well, she probably just…lost track of time. Grab your cloak. We’ll find her.

If it was me I’d be raging.  My spouse leaves a young child alone in a house at night, fire burning.  Seriously?  It’s not about Rum being a man and Milah being a woman.  It’s about keeping your child safe.  

I hear complaints, too, about how Rum talked to Hook about Milah when he went to the ship.  That he said “my wife” and referred to her as a mother.  First of all, we refer to each other like that all the time.  "My mom.“  "My sister” “My girlfriend.”  It’s objectifying, it’s making a connection.  Explaining a relationship.

No. Y-You… Just… You see… We have a son, and he needs his mother.

It’s also hostage negotiations 101.  Rum doesn’t know Milah is there willingly.  The first thing you want to do in a hostage/kidnap situation is to make the person human.  What’s more human than the mental image of a mother holding her little boy?  He, a man with a bad leg, thinks he’s going there to try and save her from the pirate.  Milah belittles him in public and tells him she’d rather he died, but he’s there because he can’t let her be taken against her will.  It’s not until almost a decade later that he learns she was there by choice.

And let’s look at the little visual cues about their relationship.  Milah sleeps in a bed that’s obviously not big enough for two, not unless they spoon.  Does anyone really think at this point in their relationship they’re spooning?  I think chances are pretty good that if Rum is sharing a bed it’s with Bae.  We know she spends time drawing.  We know Rum works.  We know Milah spends money.  Most of the caretaking we’ve seen is Rum as caretaker.

The conversation they have about leaving is one of those “had it many times” things so we here Milah’s side but not Rum’s.  She wants to leave.  He’s called misogynistic and abusive for saying no, but we never hear his reasons.  We don’t know if the spinsters are still alive and watch Bae sometimes.  We don’t know how a lame man who obviously doesn’t have much money is supposed to move his family, or how they will survive in a new place.  Obviously there’s enough money in weaving that they’re eating, but what happens when they go to a new place and there’s already a town spinner?  I mean I want to travel the world, but there’s this thing called money which allows for eating and things.

It’s great to talk about how good life would be “if” but what about reality?

There’s this thing that happens, not just in this fandom, where a claim is countered by ‘well they are a victim too.’  Like Regina’s a rapist so now there’s this fanon that Leo raped Regina which has no canon support, but makes Regina the victim.  People talk about Milah as abusive, and then as a backlash there’s “Rum is abusive” fanon popping up.  It’s rather like white people crying “reverse racism.”

The only abuse we see is Milah’s neglect of Bae and her emotional abuse of Rum.  She tells him it would be better if he’d died both in scenes when Bae is a newborn and when Bae is 4/5 years old.  It shows a pattern; it’s probably something she’s said in the in between years too.

There’s nothing that shows that Milah is forced into the role of mother or wife, or that she ever said anything about wanting to not be a mother or wife until she left.  And she had every right to leave.  i have no problem with her leaving, or not wanting to be a mom.  I have a big problem with how she left and in her leaving her son in a dangerous situation.

Time for a story - Left behind

What you should read before: 

“Hello, lover.”

The voice made a cold shiver run down Oliver’s spine like the sound of chalk scraping over a board. His hold on his phone tightened when he closed his eyes for a short moment to regain some of his self-control. He pressed his lips together tightly, trying to keep himself from yelling at the person on the other side of the line.

He remembered the last time he had met her. Taking the dangerous encounter with her aside, it had been one of the happiest days of his life. But he hadn’t forgotten how close he had been to losing Felicity when that night had been supposed to only be about his daughter’s birth. Instead he had been running around saving the city and almost lost the most important people in his life. If it hadn’t been for Roy, Felicity might have died and Emmy might have been taken.

Because of Carrie Cutter aka Cupid’s crazy plan to force his love by killing Felicity and becoming the mother of his daughter herself.

“Did you miss me?”

Oliver tried to answer and tell her what he knew she wanted to hear, but the words her shrink had told him years ago how Cupid would feel if someone lied to her came to his mind and stopped him from saying anything. He couldn’t lie to her, and he couldn’t tell her the truth. Both would endanger the people he loved.

So Oliver just stood there, waiting for her to say something more.

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Good Guy

Summary: Sebastian just went along with the group. Besides, the chances of being a match were like zero.

Prompt: Blaines kidneys are failing, he needs a new one but is high on the waiting list. All of ND and Warblers go down to the hospital and demand they get to be seen. They wait to see if one of them is compatible so they can give Blaine a kidney. 

Warnings: Illness, self depreciation

Author Notes: I just have a lot of Sebastian feels.

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