#*proceed to abandon his work as a king and go on a trip and ended up protecting another worlds

[bitethedustfools]

Crossover Ideas pt 2

Danny Phantom X Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint X Honkai Star Rail

Where 3 unlikely God/Ancient/Aeon meets.

Fate is quite strange, quite like the beings that Kim Dokja had met. Still, despite all odds, they became friends. Or not. It is hard to describe their relationship.

Akivili just barged his way in for reasons unknown and treated him like a child despite Akivili being smaller than he was and he is pretty sure that he's older than Akivili anyway, with eternity and all.

Akivili refuted that he's definitely older and his warm golden eyes were filled with wisdom that's not fitting his age.

As for Danny, his were more curiousity in nature. He had intruded the train because he saw a train travelling in space and into different worldlines.

And he's definitely not a kid. Well, he used to and KDJ can see and felt various reasons why he is the same as they both.

Yep, totally a normal group here with 2 young adults and a teen and definitely not a trio whose age span is infinite

Nevertheless, it is nice to have companions once again.

Somehow, the two of them stayed in that train of his, travelling from worldline to another and KDJ had come to read another story.

A place where Akivili had came from and unknowingly, KDJ had stuck around that place for so long along with Danny to the point that his train had converted into the first Astral Express for the Nameless, guided by Akivili the Trailblaze, to be made a home and travel to everywhere.

Even if they are a common sight in the astral express, not many know their name nor see their true face, only recalling a a face blurred as though covered by a fog and that creepy looking kid that does not look like a person at all.

In fact, even Aeons themselves failed to distinguish their appearance nor did they ever recognized that they arent humans nor Aeons but something else similar (but powerful)

One day, the group slowly fell apart starting with the explosion of the first Astral Express.

Kim dokja was nowhere to be found.

---

xtra:

A system notification just popped out of nowhere and it read, "Constellation Demon King Of Salvation is looking at you" and you can feel the heavy gaze burdened on your soul for a few moments and then its gone. You dont understand whats going on and who this is.

All you knew is that the gaze pressured you terribly.

-

"The Oldest Dream is looking at you". Sunday and Adventurine flinched for the first time.

-

Someone saw Danny doing the most eldritch thing and ran to tell the others and they replied, "what kid? we dont have a kid here"

Danny being a menace and a prankster.

-

Akivili have favourite peoples and thats KDJ and Danny but those two are weird but theyre not going to comment on that.

-

Is KDj powerful than Aeons? Maybe. He did dreamt a world(s) and bring it to life. Certainly cunning. No doubt will disguise as Aeons if given the chance.

Danny? Pretty sure he got some hidden powerful abilities that he doesnt know exist and he rules the domain of the death/afterlife. Often got mistaken as "Terminus the Finality" (Or did they get that right..? just different Danny?)

-

Is Trailblaze something of an acheivement, marked in history to be remembered? Is it a burning will that is passed from one to another? A hope that burns brightly in the dark? The star guiding you to the right path?

What exactly is the Path of Trailblaze that Akivili thread upon?

-

Thats the idea for now.

How they meet basically (dont mind my train's design. I'm too lazy):

Headcanon that Akivili had an Empty Nest Syndrome, very fitting for Akivili (Eagle).

Akivili spotted a lost child in the distance and want to take him under his wings but ended up taking the train and invite more children. Not that KDJ is complaining, its been awhile afterall.

[supermarine-silvally]

Hey Hadley! I know I could ask you this in our DMs, but I’m asking it here in case anyone was wondering the same thing.

Since you did a Ice Hockey x Ice Skater Portada AU, what do you think a Mafia Portada AU would entail?

A mafia Portada AU?? Your mind is BRILLIANT asdhjkdfsd I LOVE a good mafia AU omg

Below the cut because this got loooooooong (sorry the formatting is weird, tumblr wouldn't let me directly copy/paste it from the doc)

Send me a Portada AU and I'll write some headcanons/plot points for it!

Ace is the son of the former King of the Criminal Underworld, Gol D. Roger, who was caught and executed before Ace’s birth. Like canon, he resents his birth father, especially for all the pressure it put on him and his mother all his life (yes, Rouge is alive in this AU. You’re welcome). Rouge would’ve preferred to keep Ace out of the mafia life, but wasn’t surprised when he formed his own gang and decided to rise up in the world to rid himself of his hated father’s legacy.

A young but undeniably talented upstart, Ace decides to move in on the territory of Edward ‘Whitebeard’ Newgate of the Whitebeard Family, a mafia don who was an old rival of his father’s. Though he has no biological children of his own, Whitebeard has a massive family linked to him through loyalty. Many men have sworn their allegiance to him and treat him like a father figure. He affectionately refers to all his underlings as his ‘sons’, and they call him ‘Pops’ in turn. 

I said Whitebeard doesn’t have any biological children, but he does have an adopted daughter, Yara, who was abandoned shortly after birth. He found her when she was a child, on the run from cruel foster parents, and took her in, legally adopting her and raising her as his own. She is his sweet precious little princess and he treats her like his most prized possession. Though as a woman, Yara can’t participate formally in the mafia life herself, she often advises her father and works behind the scenes to keep the Whitebeard Family running. 

Like in canon, Ace and the Spade gang get a little too bold and end up essentially challenging Whitebeard to a fight. Whitebeard’s men apprehend them easily, even after Ace stays behind to let the others escape. Whitebeard is so amused by this snot-nosed brat and finds it admirable that he chose to save his friends’ lives over his own (a very atypical trait for a mafia leader wannabe) that he decides to bring Ace and the Spades back to his hideout. His medical team treats their injuries, and when Ace wakes up, he meets one of Whitebeard’s ‘commanders’, Thatch, who explains to him what happened.

Ace realizes that he lost the fight and now he’s essentially Whitebeard’s hostage, though he still demands to fight Whitebeard. That is when the door to the makeshift medical clinic opens, and in walks the most beautiful girl Ace has ever seen. He is just. Absolutely dumbstruck. Barely able to get a word out when she speaks to him. Thatch takes the opportunity to tease him about his attraction (“You know that’s the boss’ daughter, right?”), enjoying how Ace blushes and trips over his tongue whenever Yara is in the room. 

Finally, once he has recovered enough, Ace is brought in front of Whitebeard, who is still amused by all the fight left in this young upstart. Impressed with the small but effective operation Ace had going as well as how loyal his men were towards him, Whitebeard (who is known for taking promising young gangs under his wing) then proceeds to make Ace an offer he can’t refuse: “Swear your loyalty to me and fold your operation under mine. In return you will become my son, and I will support you. And to formalize that process-- to seal the deal-- I will give you one last thing: My daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Both Ace and Yara are shocked by this. Yara wasn’t consulted beforehand, but she trusts her father and agrees to the match, even if a bit reluctantly. Ace is very surprised Yara agreed, and decides to accept the offer as well. 

Ace spends lots more time with the Whitebeard Family in the weeks that follow, growing attached to them and rising through the ranks quickly to reach the promotion to a ‘commander’ role. His men are all assimilated into the Whitebeard Family’s ranks and find themselves quite at home. Even Rouge is given her own living quarters and protection. 

Ace is actually quite shy around Yara at first. She’s very emotionally closed off and though she performs the support role that any fiancée of a mafioso is supposed to, her heart isn’t in it and he can tell. He feels terrible about the situation, reaching the conclusion that she never would’ve chosen to be with him willingly.

He goes to his mother to ask for help, and Rouge is just like “You dummy. Have you ever tried to get to know her outside of mafia-related things? Take her on a picnic. Spend some time with her. You just need to get to know each other.” (She can’t imagine anyone NOT falling in love with her son once they get to know him). 

So he just… takes Yara out for coffee. Through gentle coaxing, he finally gets her to begin to open up to him. She tells him about how she was abandoned, and how she doesn’t know her parents (though it is suspected that her mother was a now-deceased daughter of a yakuza family), and how Whitebeard took her in when she had nowhere else to go. In turn, Ace finds himself opening up about his own struggles, especially around his father. To his surprise, Yara (who didn’t even know who his father was until this point), reassures him that it doesn’t matter to her who his father was, and that he shouldn’t be judged for whatever crimes his father committed.

They start to do more things together. Ace even helps Yara track down her biological father using his mafia contacts. Yara begins to smile more, and Ace finds himself getting super excited to see her at the end of his long, intense days of organized crime business. He’ll come back to their apartment with blood on his suit and a bouquet of roses like “Honey, I’m home!” (Yara deep-cleans his suits when they get dirty, and gives him a good scolding about being more careful each time). 

As the wedding date approaches, Ace decides that he doesn’t want to force Yara into marrying him, and tells her that he’ll tell Whitebeard to break off the engagement. Much to his surprise, however, Yara begins to cry, thinking that Ace is rejecting her because he doesn’t want her anymore. Panicked, Ace admits the truth: that he loves her more than anything, but he doesn’t want to force her to be with him if she doesn’t truly want to be. She, however, reassures him that she does, and he comes to the realization that she actually loves him too. Elated, Ace proposes to her on the spot, which Yara tearfully accepts.

The wedding-- like all weddings of high-ranking mafia members-- is grandiose. Whitebeard insisted on only the best for his sweet daughter and his new ‘son’. It’s a show of power on his part, too. Ace and Yara don’t care much for the extravagant nature of it, however. As long as they’re together, they’re happy. 

In the months that follow, Ace takes on more and more responsibilities, his reputation in the underworld growing. He can be ruthless to his enemies, but all he wants at the end of the day is to curl up in his (well-fortified) apartment with his beloved wife, who always greets him with a gentle smile and a kiss. Yara isn’t allowed to participate in any mafia meetings, but Ace always fills her in anyways, valuing her intelligence and thoughtfulness. 

When the couple learn that they are expecting their first child, Ace is over the moon. He does get a little more paranoid, though, worried that his enemies may try to target his wife and baby, and has extra security posted around the apartment complex. Almost a year after their wedding, Yara gives birth to their son, Shiro. With a little family of his own, Ace has never been happier.

One day, Whitebeard confesses to Ace that his illness has taken a turn for the worse, and he won’t be around for much longer. Through his marriage to Yara, Ace is now the heir apparent of the Whitebeard Family. Whitebeard admits to Ace that he’d been ill for quite some time and was looking for a successor. He found him a promising candidate, and decided to test his resolve by offering him that which was most precious to him-- his daughter. Had Ace treated her cruelly and abused his power, Whitebeard would’ve had him killed, but he suspected that that wouldn’t be the case, and he was right. Whitebeard had also been under pressure from other mafia families with eligible sons to marry his daughter off to them, but Whitebeard didn’t trust them and wanted to find someone he knew Yara would be safe with, and who would cherish her as more than just a bargaining chip. 

Ace succeeds Whitebeard and ushers in an era of unprecedented prosperity for the Whitebeard Family. As per their canon, Ace and Yara have five children together and live happily for the rest of their days on top of a vast and sprawling criminal empire.

[doctorbrown]

DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 24 / 31 * RECORD PLAYER 」

November 24, 1985

❝Thanks for agreeing to this, Marty. While Clara and the boys work on some of the areas of the house, I thought it best to start packing up the lab in preparation. Unless we can get a truck, moving everything over to the new laboratory I've started constructing at our home will take several trips. And, as this was as much a second home to you as it was to me, I thought it only fitting you were here for it.❞

Emmett stands in the doorway, taking an initial cursory glance over the garage-turned-laboratory-turned-permanent-home that was full to bursting with twenty-three years' worth of his life. Everything left to his name was stuffed in this garage, haphazardly tossed around in a system that must have had some sense to it, for he was always able to find what he needed.

Memories are nestled in every nook, cranny, crack, and fold of this place, and Emmett only hopes he'll have collected each and every one by the time everything is boxed and loaded.

It's bittersweet, the closing of one long chapter of his life, but one cannot start the new one without first finishing the last.

❝Yeah, of course, Doc. I gotta admit, I'm a little sad that you're not going to be living here anymore. I'm happy for you, don't get me wrong! But—I don't know, I really liked this place, you know? We had a lot of good times here. Plus, now it'll take me longer to get to your place.❞

Marty is the first one to cross the threshold and Emmett watches as he runs his fingers over the table that has held everything from their feet to Einstein's paws to schematics and coffee and late-night Burger King runs when neither of them had eaten for most of the day.

❝I understand. I've grown fond of this place over the years, and I'll be sad to see it go, but in the end, it's just a place. Our memories will still be intact.❞

❝Yeah, I guess you're right. Plus, I think this will be the first time I've ever seen this place clean.❞ Marty grins and Emmett tries to scowl, but he knows he's neglected proper care and maintenance of this place beyond what was necessary to continue his scientific endeavours.

For a home, it was incredibly poorly maintained.

❝Remember last summer we decided we'd try and clean this place up?❞ Emmett hums, surprised to find he does possess a memory like that; young Marty in old worn-down jeans, a baggy T-shirt, and himself in old shorts and one of his older Hawaiian shirts that he didn't mind ruining.

❝I do. We made it as far as...oh, right about here.❞ Emmett takes a few steps in and looks at the workbench near the wall, still covered with years' worth of clutter. ❝We started sorting through some of my things and then, as you can see, abandoned the notion quite quickly when we discovered one of my old schematics.❞

❝Your radio thing, right?❞

Emmett nods, quietly surprised once again to find another similarity between their disjointed memories. Marty proceeds deeper into the lab, wandering into a corner piled high with miscellaneous paperwork and other unidentifiable parts that had long been designated the junk pile.

❝Are we saving everything in here, Doc?❞ Marty starts gathering the assortment of papers from the top of a neglected side table to flip through them while Emmett takes a mental stock of everything he remembers being in the lab, working out the best course of action to tackle this herculean task. He finds bills, invoices, various letters and memos; nothing terribly important, but there is a worn, yellowed newspaper clipping that catches Marty's attention and he holds it up, brows pinched together.

❝Hey, wait... GE 326 Radio and Phonograph? For sale? What's this, Doc?❞ He holds up the newspaper clipping as Emmett strolls over to glance at the paper.

❝Ah, I had almost forgotten about that.❞ Emmett bends down to the side table Marty had started collecting documents off of and starts haphazardly shoving the remainder of the items piled atop it into a nearby cardboard box.

The wood is worn and scratched from years of both use and neglect, the grills have been snapped off in places, disrupting the symmetrical lattice pattern, the radio face is scratched so badly in some areas some of the broadcast frequencies are difficult to read, and one of the tuning knobs has been broken off, lost forever to time.

When he lifts the cover to reveal the phonograph tucked away inside, Marty's eyes widen.

❝Whoa! I never knew you had this! How have I never noticed this before?❞

❝Probably because it has been sitting there collecting dust for the past thirty to forty years. I originally purchased it to dismantle it for spare parts, but I found that, for a while, I quite enjoyed the phonograph function of it. It was also instrumental in my saxophone playing endeavours, though I'm afraid that's a skill I have not kept up with.❞

Marty bends over the open cover to look at the neglected record player inside. ❝I always wondered why you had that sax hanging in the garage. You never talked about it and I haven't ever seen you even pick it up in the years I've known you.❞

There's a longer silence in between Marty's comment and Emmett's response than he intended.

You can't keep going on like this, Emmett. You're even thinner than you were when you first came to me and those dark circles under your eyes are as black as the night itself. Have you been eating at all?

Emmett doesn't answer and instead trains his gaze on the pen in his hand, watching as it scrapes loudly across the page, spelling out his fate in harsh clinical lines for all the world to see.

I want you to try something. Take up an instrument, Emmett. Whichever you like, but might I recommend a wind instrument? Learn to play and I do mean practise for more than five minutes a day. It'll do you a world of good.

❝I've had no reason to play lately,❞ he says, not a lie but not the whole truth either, aiming to change the topic before he gives more away than he intended. ❝Besides, we had plenty of music in the garage with your guitar playing and the music you introduced me to.❞

Emmett doesn't believe that Marty fully accepts that answer, not with the way his expression shifts, but if he does suspect him of being not entirely truthful, he never says, and for that, he's grateful.

Marty crouches down, rifling with careless abandon through one of the other boxes on the floor. ❝So where are the rest of your records? I wanna see the kind of stuff you were listening to back then. We were so busy back in 1955 making sure that we'd be ready for the storm that there wasn't much time to look at all the stuff you had back in your mansion.❞

❝Burned up, I'm afraid. The record still in there is the only one that survived.❞

❝Charlie Parker? Really, Doc?❞

[scribbleseas]

The Indignant Pawn, Chapter X: The First Salt Shaker

Description: You are Y/n Y/l/n- formerly known as Princess Helena, the runaway princess.

You're an assassin for hire who only agrees to find the worst of London's criminals at the business end of your knife; until a mysterious woman hires you to end the likes of Ciel Phantomhive, the King of the Underworld. You find yourself trading your weapons for your abandoned family crest in order to infiltrate his home as none other than Princess Marie-Louise, your twin sister. What's to happen when you find that the young Earl is more than a callous businessman?

OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault (once in the prologue), objectification, misogyny, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: poison, poisoning attempt, thallium sulfate

Author’s Note: I’m just as surprised this chapter is out so soon after the last one lol. Thank you for the notes and the ask! I get pumped over every single Tumblr notification! (By the way, Cornelia really is an 8th-generation New Yorker, I painstakingly did the math.) 

ps. I asked my friend why our MC here is so bitchy and the response was: “it’s because she’s written by you.”

Sorry guys :)

Happy Reading!

- Dan

⇠ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇢

. . .

MARCH 17TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

“I still find it rather difficult to believe that you consult your city’s Undertaker to solve these sorts of mysteries,” you commented dubiously, eyeing the grim storefront as if you had never seen it in your life. You knew you would have a complicated day when Lord Phantomhive told you he was making the aforementioned visit. Apparently, he had a reluctant allyship with the eccentric Undertaker, just as you did. You demanded to go with him to control the damage the odd man would undoubtedly do to your mission.

“He worked with the previous Earl; sometimes the man manages to have some use to me as well,” the Earl explained, scanning the street around you defensively, ready to pull out his gun and shoot. Rightfully, he was wary of being outside in public with you after the recent estate skirmish. He made that clear when he fought you tooth and nail for the right to accompany him at the breakfast table. 

“What would an Undertaker possibly know?” You raised an eyebrow in challenge, but before he could explain again (you were sure to inquire several times to emphasize the absurdity of the trip), Sebastian re-emerged from the store. The butler seemed rather pleased with himself, opening the door to a laughing Undertaker. 

The man’s ghoulish-pale skin was alight with a flush made from exertion. You couldn’t see his eyes under his mess of bangs, but you imagined they were screwed shut with pleasure as he relied on the counter for stability. His laughter could have caused a major earthquake.

Seeing you, his rapture increased. Between his manic laughter, he managed: “Guten Morgen, Eure Hoheit.” (Good Morning, Your Highness).

You rolled your eyes. Of course, the Undertaker would proceed with his usual jokes, razing you for your royal lineage and how it contrasted the way your life played out. However, if he opted not to sell you out, you would be tentatively grateful. 

“Lovely to meet you,” you bit the inside of your lip, silently daring the Undertaker to so much as hint that you were lying. Before he could pester you with unnecessary questions, Lord Phantomhive intervened. 

“Undertaker. Do you know anything of a young hitwoman called Y/n? She shares Her Highness’s face as the former Princess Helena of Schleswig-Holstein,” the Earl gestured to you. In the poor lighting, you tilted your head upwards to give the mortician a better look at your face. “She went missing in 1883 and hasn’t been seen since.”

“What an astute thing to ask, my Lord,” the Undertaker giggled, taking the movement to invade your personal space. His veiny hand took hold of your chin, and he moved it as he wished to make a show of inspecting your features. His sharp, almost feminine nails pushed little crescents into your skin. 

You scowled in response but allowed the Undertaker to do as he wished. He could betray you at any moment; it would be unwise to displease him. 

“I suppose, yes, I do have business with a young woman called Y/n Y/ln. She’s just the spitting image of your Princess here,” his smile was shark-like as usual. You struggled to maintain control of your expression, forcing it to remain characteristically surprised and worried instead of irritated. And irate. You imagined what it might have been like to sink your dagger into his chest. 

The Undertaker faced you, likely looking into your eyes from under his bangs. “She passes through here more than you might think.” There were dozens of different ways you could kill him where he stood.

“What business could a hitwoman have with you?” Lord Phantomhive asked, sparing you a quick glance. He gauged the degree to which the information disturbed you. The question did make sense; he was a mortician whose clientele was already deceased. You were a contract killer who made living criminals that way.

“I beautify the bodies, and she connects with those who grieve those passed souls,” the Undertaker answered vaguely. You prayed (to no god in particular) that he disclosed all of the information he was willing to share with the Earl.

“In other words…” Lord Phantomhive paused to mull over the mortician’s response. You could see him thinking, the wheels spinning in his mind as he slowly bridged the two points.

“The wrongfully murdered, the trafficked, the missing,” Sebastian said, “all of them require a burial. She meets those who seek revenge.” If you weren’t mistaken, you might have noticed a grudging respect flash in the head butler’s mahogany eyes.

“Could you provide us with the name of her most recent client?” Lord Phantomhive asked, and your stomach plummeted to the bottom of the River Thames in response. Even if the Undertaker spoke about Doña, he knew nothing of her. While he told you she was one of the most hilarious women to pass through his shop, she was too cautious to even provide her real name to him. Furthermore, she seemed to move house each time you met with her. There was no tracking an address. 

“No, but it is flattering you ask,” the Undertaker sighed with a flourish. “Miss Y/l/n likes to deal with her business directly. I hardly know where she resides; ever an elusive one.”

Now that was a lie. The Undertaker was one of the only living souls who knew where you presided—until he lent your address to Dona and her minions. At least he was somewhat on your side.

However, you could tell Lord Phantomhive was dubious. He frowned pensively like he’d lost a bet. He studied the mortician. Sometimes Lord Phantomhive indeed reminded you of a Guard Dog, considering the Undertaker’s words and trying to sniff out the subtle lies throughout. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.

Much to your relief, Phantomhive didn’t attempt to challenge the mortician’s words. Instead, he nodded once. “Right. Well, then, we had better start searching.” He was never one to show gratitude. After all, he had paid for the knowledge, even if the said currency was laughter provided by his butler.

“Of course, my Lord,” the Undertaker agreed, “It would be a joy to match you and your sister in identical coffins, Your Highness,” he smiled wistfully. Once again, he came too close. This time, you side-stepped closer to Lord Phantomhive. Naturally, the Undertaker noticed and laughed once, deranged enough for the nobleman to excuse it. You shot him a seething look over your shoulder before you crossed the door’s threshold, to which he smiled in response.

. . .

The carriage ride back to the Phantomhive Estate felt longer than the trip into the city.

You fiddled with your hands, twisting your fingers, thumbing at the palms of your hands. Thankfully, your hands started to callus protectively, previously raw from overexerting yourself on the harp. Your satin gloves helped keep them from exposure in public and, furthermore, conceal the gash that ran up your forearm and around your tricep. The sutures were still healing, causing a stinging wave of complaint to roll up your arm whenever you moved it. 

“I will find your sister, Your Highness,” Lord Phantomhive said, figuring you were agitated due to your sister Helena’s confirmed existence. Attempting to assuage your agitation was a nice enough gesture, but your worries were much more complicated than some inter-sibling awkwardness. Not that he was much equipped to help with either of those matters anyway.

You needed to kill him soon. He was getting too close to the truth. If he found you out, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. And that would come after torturing you for information. You heard enough about the Queen’s Guard Dog to know that in the past, even if you were unaware that it was just one of many titles Lord Phantomhive possessed. 

“Truthfully, my Lord, I’m not sure what will happen if you do,” you said, creating a vulnerability that would hopefully push Lord Phantomhive to retreat. “If she is a hitwoman, then she is a criminal. And she will need to be executed. I doubt my grandmother would pardon such horrific acts.”

“Perhaps if she helps expel the threat-” you silenced Lord Phantomhive with a weary look. 

“You are familiar with the sorts of criminals she asks you to rid of.”

His lips pressed into a grim line. Of course, the Queen asked him to expel murderers in the past; Jack the Ripper, the Noah’s Arc Circus cast. “Her Majesty is wise enough to consider her family and the state in equal parts.”

“Would you truly consider that wisdom?” Your words hung in the air, and you were quiet for the rest of the ride. The silence lingered for the majority of your lunch. You pushed your beef stew around the bowl to Sebastian’s disdain. Your stomach churned too much to facilitate lunch, as much as you craved to. As much as he unsettled you, Sebastian was a master in the kitchen.

“Your Highness, are you quite certain you are well enough for the engagement dinner tomorrow evening?” Lord Phantomhive changed the subject, asking for both your injury and your anxieties. He asked about your arm more than you thought about it.

“Yes,” you said wearingly, exhausted by the sheer number of times you’ve answered the question. Although you were in no mood to be cordial to a dining table full of strangers, you needed the opportunity to kill Lord Phantomhive. Previously, you wanted to wait until you completed your mission, but he gave you no choice. Instead, Doña was giving you no choice. Your face soured at the thought of her as you remembered the new letter she sent that morning. 

You had to visit her tonight; you refused to pay for your own thallium sulfate. And that was on the assumption you didn’t kill her first.

“Genuinely, Lord Phantomhive, I am. I can handle a dinner party,” you assured him, despite your stormy expression. Your words were clipped. At least he knew not to press. “Regardless, Lady Elizabeth might show you to an early grave if you don’t host it.: He knew you weren’t wrong.

The real question was: could he handle an engagement dinner?

. . . 

“Doña! Open this door before I knock it down myself!” You yelled, knocking on the door of the townhouse she specified in her letter. Your good arm hit the door with all the strength you could manage, fueled by your anger.  \She was the reason you were in this predicament: half able to defend yourself and nearly exposed in front of the Earl Phantomhive and the rest of society.

The moment Andrea opened the door for you, you pushed past her. “Where is she?” you demanded, distantly hearing the servant tell you that her mistress was in her study. Doña’s baby started crying in Andrea’s skinny arms, upset from your yelling. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“First door on the right- up the stairs!” Andrea directed you before quickly turning away to settle the infant.

“Doña!” You sent her study door flying open, applying too much strength to twisting the knob and pushing the door open. The knob broke a dent into the plaster wall.

Doña regarded you, her face serene as if she was just blinking awake from a comforting dream. Her smile was fake, of course, pleased enough to see you so livid. Her umber irises seemed consumed by her dark pupils, allowing her to match the part of a soulless, Machiavellian monster. She was poised in her office chair like a queen. 

“Y/n,” the woman greeted, standing behind her desk, treating it like a barricade that would keep her safe from the murderous glint in your eyes.  She made no effort to stand near you, wary of the hand that sat in your pocket bag. While pocket bags were only small pouches within a woman's dress's skirt, they were big enough to hold a knife. A murder weapon, if you were so inclined. And you were. “You’ve made it back to me. I’m pleased,” she said, her voice as warm as a glacier. “Would it be presumptuous of me to assume that this means you have killed the Earl?” her grin was venomous.

“No, I have not,” your expression soured, but your gloom lifted somewhat, seeing her face darken. “You see, I’ve recently been injured in an assault. Do you know what could have caused something so improbable ?” You asked rhetorically, pulling up your dress sleeve and removing your glove to show the grave line of healing stitches. The wound looked about the same as it did four nights prior; a myriad of sickly yellows and bruise blues. The flesh held together by the stitching was paler than the rest and slightly red. The protective layer of petroleum jelly made it shine in the light. 

“¡Uy caracoles!” She gaped at your arm, intrigued by the damaged site and the intricate work Sebastian put into saving it. It would have been amputated only a few short decades ago as doctors feared gangrene’s deadly onslaught. “Let me see, come closer,” she demanded, but you stood your ground fiercely. Knowing her, she would sink her pointed nails into the sutures simply to note the results.

“Stay away,” you ordered, “you caused this. You betrayed me.” 

Doña had the nerve to look offended, “I betrayed you? No, I motivated you. I gave your location to those connected to your past…targets, and they took care of the rest. And now, I imagine, Phantomheave thinks Princess Helena is alive. And a step closer to realizing that she’s closer than he thinks. You mustn't forget, Y/n, you told me you would have this child Earl killed in a week! You betrayed me first!”

“How did I betray you?” You raised your voice, tempted to take out your knife and point it at her. Somehow, you resisted, digging your nails into your palm. “This is a complicated mission! His butler Michaelis- he catches bullets!” You said, although Doña’s face told you she thought you were lying, you said. Her red lips parted in a dubious smile as if you were a child and she was about to tell you that Santa Claus wasn’t real. 

“Y/n. That simply is not possible,” Doña said.

“I thought the same until I was nearly shot by one of the men you sent!” You replied hotly. 

“I sent no one. I supplied your location, and your enemies came to the estate by their own means!” Doña’s smile disappeared, replaced by a scowl that made her look decades senior to twenty-five. “Is it my doing if dozens of powerful individuals wish you dead? Certainly not.”

“Fine,” you took a long inhale, clenching and unclenching your fist. “I will not waste my breath arguing with you. I need thallium sulfate.” 

Doña smiled once more, satisfied with your surrender. You could guess her following words from her salacious smirk before she said them. You cringed in advance. 

“Thallium? Why? Have you found yourself bedded with some scoundrel?” Besides being a deadly poison, small quantities of the chemical could be used to treat diseases such as syphilis and gonorrhea. And Doña simply loved joking at your expense. 

You stared at her, willing to kill her for the insult. Instead, you retorted, “I don’t require it for the same purposes it’s in your possession.”

“Peace, Y/n, I play with your stoicism,” Doña pursed her crimson lips with disappointment. She rolled her eyes, irritated with your impatience. 

“As do I,” you answered placidly, despite your stoic expression. “Now, do you possess thallium sulfate, or must I wait for you to procure it?”

Doña smiled as if you asked her for a cup of tea rather than a lethal poison. She was the most capricious woman in the world, you were sure. No one’s disposition could transition from stormy to winsome quite like hers. 

. . .

MARCH 18TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND 

Descending the main staircase in the manor, you were met with a decent cluster of new faces. Clearly, there was the Midford family; Lady Elizabeth stood at her brother’s side, a step away from the middle-aged couple, their parents. On her brother’s other side were his fiancée and her father.

Richard and Cornelia Burton, you recalled. 

“Your Highness, might I introduce the Head Order of the Garter and Marquess Alexis Leon Midford and the Marchioness Francis Midford. The Lord and Lady Scotney,” Lord Phantomhive opted to introduce his uncle and aunt first, given that they possessed the highest titles. Lady Elizabeth, with narrowly reserved excitement, waited beside her mother. She grinned at her fiancé, who stood to your side. After all, those below your station could not simply introduce themselves to you. Though not by a lot, your status outmatched Marquess and Marchioness. Not to mention, it certainly outweighed a foreign fiancée and her monopolist father.

You nodded stoically, allowing them to speak first. This particular protocol was hardwired into the back of your mind. No amount of time you spent within London’s middle class could erase your childhood governess’ teachings. Your knuckles stung, remembering the sharp pain of a ruler.

“We are pleased to meet you, Your Highness,” Lady Scotney said, descending into a shallow curtsey. The movement was swift and poised, the perfect depth— not too shallow that it was disrespectful, but not deep enough to make her rising clumsy. In synchrony, Lord Scotney nodded his head. Wisely, he made no effort to reach for your hand. He and his daughter wore matching grins. 

Out of mild fondness for their daughter, you extended your non-dominant hand for Lord Scotney to shake. Extending your dominant arm would have made you grimace. Not even your resilience could hide such pain. You bit the inner part of your lip, tense as a bowstring. 

“It is my honor to be invited to such a…joyous occasion,” you replied, picking your words with the taciturnity of a military strategist. 

“Thank you for joining us, Your Highness!” Lady Elizabeth simpered, still more demure than you would have guessed for such an eventful evening. “This is my brother, Edward,” she gestured to the young man beside Lord Scotney. The siblings shared the same set of sparkling eyes and blond hair but opposite dispositions. Where Lady Elizabeth’s permanent smile faced you like a warm ray of sunlight, Lord Edward’s expression was politely detached, lips set in a grim line. He glowered at Lord Phantomhive before forcing his face into neutrality.

His handshake was identical to his father’s, with a firm grip, two shakes, and copious eye contact. 

Next, you focused on Richard Burton. There was wise confidence that radiated from him. Besides Lady Elizabeth, he was self-assured in his measured posture most at ease. A playful glint sparkled in his hazel eyes. He looked like an accomplished man, clean-shaven with charisma, locked and loaded like a weapon.

This was a secure and intelligent man, a businessman who saw many successes. 

“Richard Burton, Your… Highness,” he introduced himself, taking you by surprise. Clearly, your title felt awkward for him to say. However, you allowed him to shake your hand, appreciating his forwardness. A proper royal would have indeed admonished him for being so presumptuous. “And my daughter, Cornelia,” he gestured to the short brunette.

Cornelia’s arm was interlaced with Lord Edward’s, but she released it to curtsy. Hers couldn’t match the poise Lady Scotney exuded, but she didn’t have the same decades of training. America had no nobility, and others would be curtsying to her if it did. 

It was a respectable attempt, and you were in no mood to create a suffocating atmosphere so early into the night. After curtsying to you, she curtsied to Lord Phantomhive. This attempt was slightly less floundering.

“I’m really honored to meet you both. Lord Phantomhive, you have a lovely manor here,” Cornelia said, grinning from ear to ear, an interesting contrast to Lord Edward’s stare, poisoned with grudging respect.

“Please, do call me Ciel. We’re to be family in a few short weeks,” Lord Phantomhive’s smile was manufactured like a toy in one of his factories. But that wasn’t for the guests to notice. Such was for you to see, staring straight through his facade while yours was as thick as fortified armor. Impenetrable. 

Cornelia giggled, exchanging a pleased look with her father. 

Lord Scotany pulled the Earl into a rib-crushing embrace. You fought a smile, finding yet another resemblance between him and his exuberant daughter. “Ah, my nephew, you have grown so tall,” he continued, complimenting Phantomhive’s success, his growth spurt. “You’re almost as tall as me, I swear!”

Although Lady Scotany admonished him, her pale blue eyes sparkled. For her relation to Lord Phantomhive, they didn’t look very much alike; where the Earl’s eye was a deep, sapphic blue and his hair nearly raven, Lady Scotany’s eyes looked like piercing shards of ice. Her hair was cool gray, slicked back neatly.

“I’m sorry, my dear, but look at him! He’s the spitting image of Vincent and Rachel.”

Lord Phantomhive’s composure crumbled— not significantly, but enough for you to recognize. He flinched, swallowing down a pained look. 

“Thank you, Lord Scotany,” the Earl’s response was hesitant.

. . .

The dining table was a dull affair for you.

At one end, Lady Elizabeth and Cornelia gushed over the wedding details: her dress, the venue, the food, the guests. You half listened, although the girls tried their hardest to engage you. 

On your other side, Lord Phantomhive politely entertained Lord and Lady Scotney, their son, and Mr. Burton. He provided vague updates about his company and how Funtom Enterprises was looking to expand its interests. Expertly, he dodged questions about your situation, although you knew he trusted them. 

“And Your Highness, if you don’t mind my asking: what of your engagement with His Highness Prince Aribert of Anhalt?” Lady Elizabeth asked, likely expecting some good news, given her hopeful look. Cornelia brightened as well, smiling wider if such a feat was possible. Elizabeth’s question silenced the other side of the table. 

Internally, you wanted to throttle her. 

Instead, you smiled, but purposely, it didn’t reach your eyes. “I am unsure. I fear my parents may release him from the agreement. We were supposed to be married this month,” you admitted. Marie would hide her melancholy in front of strangers. She would find a way to retain her pride.

As Lady Elizabeth began to apologize, you shrugged, intervening smoothly. “But that is only speculation, really. He did send me a lovely valentine on the 14th,” you recounted, “it was a pair of exquisite emerald earrings.” Instead, one of Aribert’s attendants picked the expensive jewelry to send to you. 

That seemed to satisfy the table. Lady Elizabeth clasped her hands together, a dreamy expression clouding her porcelain features, “that’s just so adorable. Don’t you just love it when men pick beautiful things out? Ciel got me this necklace for my birthday two years ago!”

Lady Elizabeth gestured to the white choker around her neck. In the center of the soft band, there was a pearl pendant. It was perfectly centered between her collarbones, glowing in the light. At every instance you saw her, Lady Elizabeth wore that necklace. Now you understood why. The realization pulled at your stomach, and your fingers clenched into fists under the table. 

You struggled to think of an appropriate response, but thankfully, Lord Edward handled that burden for you. After all, there was no way Lord Phantomhive picked that necklace by himself. It had to be his meticulous butler.

The thought was a foreign comfort to you.

“You mean to tell us that’s why you’re always wearing that necklace?” Her brother’s aghast voice asked rhetorically. He eyed both his sister and Lord Phantomhive, as if they had committed an unforgivable scandal. 

Lady Elizabeth turned the same shade of pink as her dress, suddenly interested in the remaining steak on her plate.

Lord Scotney laughed wholeheartedly, putting a comforting hand on Phantomhive’s stiff shoulder. “Now, that isn’t the sort of jewelry we’re awaiting from Ciel here. We’re waiting to see the type of ring you offer my daughter.” 

Richard Burton snickered in agreement, “that’s what all us fathers are waiting for, Alexis.”

“That’s right, Ciel. Don’t wait until I ascend to the pearly gates to become my son-in-law,” Lord Scotney scolded playfully. He smiled at his wife as she rolled her eyes, no doubt accustomed to his antics. 

You’ve never seen Lord Phantomhive as flustered as he was at that moment— perhaps aside from when he caught you with your corset half undone. You cringed at the memory, rushing back into your quarters from sneaking out that night. The blizzard delayed your journey from meeting Dona in the city and returning to the estate. You had been too late; Mey-Rin found your empty room and alerted Lord Phantomhive and Sebastian before your fumbling return. 

Cornelia came to his rescue. 

“Well, Edward waited quite a while, didn’t he, father?” She asked smugly, poking her fiancé’s shoulder mischievously. “I thought I was going to get frostbite that night!”

You tilted your head, feigning curiosity. Oddly, all you wanted was to change the subject from Lord Phantomhive’s impending proposal to Lady Elizabeth to Edward’s.

“Frostbite?” You asked. 

Cornelia recounted the night of Edward’s proposal, December 2nd, 1891. Edward took her to the Empire Skating Rink— the first covered ice skating rink in New York City, an obvious nod to Cornelia’s lineage as an eighth-generation New Yorker. And apparently, her immense skill at ice skating. She described how he sank to one knee in the middle of the rink for everyone to see, pulling the small box out of the depths of his pocket. Cornelia could barely hear the words he spoke, occupied with crying.

You imagined her tears stung her cheeks in the cold. 

“And he had my father skate over with flowers!” Cornelia added. “They were beautiful red roses.”

Mr. Burton shrugged innocently, “I was fulfilling my duty.”

“You did just that by granting me this amazing woman’s hand,” Lord Edward with surprising warmth, considering he spent a considerable part of the meal glowering at Lord Phantomhive. “Anything more was a kindness, sir.” He shared a fond look with his soon-to-be father-in-law.

“Oh, please do let me see your ring again!” Lady Elizabeth squealed, gasping when Cornelia did her one better by offering said ring for her to hold. 

The diamond was understandably large and cut into a perfect circle. Two bands were supporting it; one solid gold and the other composed of sparking smaller diamonds. They crossed one another diagonally. It was a lovely selection, even you had to admit so.

You could see the pensiveness in Lady Elizabeth’s eyes as they darted conspicuously from the diamond to Lord Phantomhive. He wouldn’t live long enough to get down on one knee for her if she only knew that.

. . .

You awaited Lord Phantomhive in the sitting room, face cleaned of all makeup, comfortably dressed in a white nightgown. He was finishing with the guests, whereas you said your goodbyes and made a strategic retreat about fifteen minutes prior. You required time alone with the Earl’s tea selection for the night, recently set down by Sebastian. 

The sweet scent of Earl Grey would have been unmatched if you hadn’t been nursing your own cup of hot chocolate. 

Carefully eyeing the door, you gently pulled a porcelain salt shaker from the folds of your nightgown. It was small, barely longer than your middle finger. Though opaque and hand-painted, the substance inside appeared to be minute, coarse particles— like salt or sugar. Only you knew better; the contents were thallium sulfate, the infamous Poisoner’s Poison. Tasteless, odorless, and easily soluble in hot liquid, it was your favorite chemical to kill with. 

Even the symptoms leading to death were too discreet to implicate murder.

Dona supplied you with three full salt shakers, allowing you no room for error. She was careful that way, even measuring 15 mg of the chemical per shaker. That was the exact quantity needed to kill.

Pursing your lips, you quickly unscrewed the container’s metal lid, pouring the contents into Lord Phantomhive’s tea cup and tucking the empty porcelain back into your deep pocket. The chemical dissolved effortlessly, and as if on cue, Lord Phantomhive entered. 

You took a guileless sip of your hot chocolate. It scalded your tongue, but you refused to wince, painfully proud. The burn helped you ignore the forming knots in your stomach and throat. It soothed the prickling anxiety that built beads of sweat in your hairline. 

Meeting his eye was a challenge, but you forced yourself. 

“That was quite an affair,” he commented vaguely, gauging your mood. 

The hot chocolate tasted like sandpaper to you, “Miss Burton and Lord Edward are well matched,” you said noncommittally, “her father was rather interesting.”

“Yes. Mr. Burton is a veteran. Fought on the Union’s side in the war,” Lord Phantomhive’s heart wasn’t in the conversation, much like you. He inspected the crisp set of cards Sebastian set in the middle of the table, neutral territory for you and the Earl’s respective genius. Though he favored chess and you enjoyed draughts, neither of you could master any sort of card game. 

“Did you have a game in mind?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Whist.”

 The game was involved enough to take the Earl’s attention away from his tea. He tended to forget everything around him in the heat of strategic play; his focus was admirable. You nearly forgot about Earl Grey’s poisonous contents in the first place, easing into the easy rhythm you exchanged turns in. You rarely made each other wait, minds well suited to knowing which moves to make turns before making them.

When you were on the cusp of winning, Lord Phantomhive set down his cards, face down, of course.

“I actually,” he started before thinking better of his starting words with a grimace. His grave look told you to set your card down as well and give him your entire focus.

Sudden anxiety twisted your stomach; it made your blood run cold. You wondered, did he see you poison the tea? There was no way.

“I wanted to… thank you, Your Highness,” Lord Phantomhive said. The surprise hit you like a train. You sat up in your seat, posture as straight as a ruler, bewildered. You had never heard those words from a nobleman, the particularly ill-tempered and entitled Earl, at that. You felt as if he’d struck you.

You allowed the bewilderment to read easily on your face. “Thank me? Whatever for?”

“For tonight. I know my betrothed can be rather…”

“Headstrong,” you supplied, nodding. A smile tugged at your lips, “she’s a good one. I felt that entertaining a request from her was worthwhile.”

“Nevertheless. It was considerate of you, especially after the other day,” he glanced at your injured arm meaningfully. After the guests left, you removed your evening gloves to expose the wound. Mey-Rin helped you add a new layer of petroleum jelly, and fresh bandage—Nurse Sebastian (and from what you remembered from Baxter’s basic medical training), infection was your biggest opponent.   

You blushed and settled for a reluctant smile, uneasy. Someone must have told the Earl to show gratitude towards you; he did not possess this warmth naturally.

But you were wrong; the Earl was not an actor of that magnitude.

“It was my pleasure,” you managed, pronouncing the words slowly so as not to stutter through them painfully.

If you had looked away as you were tempted to, you would have missed his hand. It was drifting to his teacup, fingers interlacing between the cup's body in the handle, lifting the cup up to his lips. 

“Don’t drink that!”

Before you realized you were moving, you sprung out of your chair. Your good arm knocked the delicate cup of poison out of Phantomhive’s hand, forcing your bad arm to support your torso. You stood precariously bent over the small table. In his surprise, Lord Phantomhive was too slow to move. 

The cup fell to the floor, spilling the lukewarm tea everywhere; on the Earl’s dining ensemble, the tablecloth, the rug, the floor. Some managed to splash on you as well. The playing cards splayed over the floor, stained with tea.

At least the tea wasn’t hot enough to cause any burns. 

It was Lord Phantomhive’s turn to gape at you, bewildered. You’ve never been this close to his face— it certainly wasn’t your intention. But while you were in that proximity, you couldn’t help but note: the proud slope of his nose, his pouty lips. His eyelashes were quite long.

Suddenly self-conscious, you felt your face grow warm yet again (it was truly becoming an embarrassment). As quickly as you pounced, you retreated. 

“My apologies,” you managed, the words difficult to formulate in your mouth. Your hands quivered. “There’s tea on you” everywhere. Poisonous tea everywhere.

Dona provided you with three salt shakers for this reason.

“Think nothing of it. We can continue our game in the foyer,” Lord Phantomhive said warily. His concern was more evident than any hint of anger. 

“I’ll meet you there. After you change,” you said, cringing at the stains that marred the Earl’s clothes. And the mess you made. The tea pooled on the floor reminded you of a poll of blood, save for the sweet floral scent. You urged yourself to think of something else. 

“Of course, Your Highness,” Phantomhive allowed you to exit the spoiled room first. 

You took a final look before stepping out, casting one last look at your mess. You felt a twinge of regret for Mey-Rin, but it needed to be done. 

Needless to say, there were worse messes to clean up. 

. . .

Tags:

[deepest-dope]

Cave and Jessup drink inadvisable amounts of soda

Jessup stands outside the rickety shack, delicately balancing about 6 crates of soda in his arms, he kicks the door a little to knock before deciding to just kick it open entirely. He proceeds to saunter in ignoring the form under the trenchcoat startling and flailing to get up at the noise. He pokes around for a minute before finally finding a gap in the carefully constructed soda wall that may in fact be holding the shack up at this point, to drop his load of crates onto. “So that’s about the hundredth load of soda this year, there’s gotta be at least 50 of those blue star caps in here by now right? So we can start working through them to day?”

Cave, finally escaping his own coat, stands to bark at Jessup, “Jesus shit dude you can’t barge in on people like that! Did you kick my door off its fucking hinges you jackass?!” he moves to stand and trips over his own feet towards Jessup, who assumes a protective stance in front of the Great Wall of Soda, before Cave just falls onto his face. He lies there for a few seconds before getting up to face Jessup’s amusement. His nose is bleeding for some reason. Cave ignores it to deal with Jessup.

Giving up on being pissed and bitching at his friend entirely, he checks to see that tge door is just barely still hinged and then he briefly scans over the hoard of nuka-cola and sunset sarsaparilla, and says “Yeah theres gotta be at least 50 here in all this, if we get to chugging as much as we can we could probably be done by the end of the month, maybe even next week if we can get Chance and Mcmurphy to help” he stands and grabs 2 bottles of cola, handing one to Jessup before snatching it back when he tries to bite the cap.

“Dude just use your belt buckle for fuck sake! Unless you want your grandkids to chew your food for you when you’re 50″ Demonstrating the Technique by grabbing his buckle with one hand to pry the caps off the bottles in the other, handing one bottle to Jessup while tilting his own head back to pour cola down into his stomach. “Ho-ly shit dude, how are you doing that” the Great Khan wheezes out, motionlessly staring as soda disappears from the glass bottle.

“Relax your throat, close your eyes, and don’t think too much about it” he answers, dropping his starless bottlecaps into his pocket and setting aside the empty bottle before reaching for another, watching Jessup start to throw his soda back, accidentally inhale some, and start coughing like he’s dying. Cave, ever so mercifully, does not make fun of him for failing his first try and pats his back while he pries the cap off his new bottle with the other. “maybe try holding your breathe this time?”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Six Crates of Nuka-Cola Later^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Chance isn’t too sure what he expected when he went out to track his brother through the desert after he was an hour and a half late to dinner but it probably wasn’t to find him and his friend laying miserably in a formerly abandoned shack now filled with crates of soda stacked wall to wall surrounded by empty nuka-cola bottles. “What the hell is going on?”

Jessup barely lifts his head to acknowledge his brother, “We were trying to get SOME blue star caps before we had to go, but none of the bottles we’ve opened HAD any, and we wanted to get at least a couple before we went home” and immediately dropping his head back to the floor and groaning. He tries to curl into a more comfortable position but it doesn’t stop his stomach from hurting.

Chance, scanning the room, the floor, his brother squirming on the dirty floor, and his friend clutching his stomach looking like he’s using every scrap of will to restrain himself from vomiting and wasting perfectly good nuka-cola, thinks for a moment before saying, “Don’t the Blue star caps only come off sunset sarsaparillas?” Jessup releases a high pitched whine, startling the King’s dog miles away in freeside, and Cave proceeds to sit up to start screaming.

[maybemanyskeletonhats]

CONCERN (SAD)

(con·cern

/kənˈsərn/

worry (someone); make anxious. - a matter of interest or importance to someone.)

Ondolemar crosses his arms and scoffs as he listens to them prattle on about their next ‘grand’ adventure. “You run about in the filthy ruins of that tomb for what? Wealth?? I assure you the only thing you’d possibly find in there is dust and bones.” He griped. He knew of course it was wrong, he wasn’t born yesterday. He knew of the foul undead. His pursed lips briefly twitch into a concerned frown before he can stop it, he shakes his head vigorously. They can handle it right? They’re the famed Dragonborn who slew Alduin. It’s not as though some skinny Undead were a match for them. Gazing silently as you rifled through their belongings to see if they had everything, he grips their arm, catching them by surprise. ���Be...Be...” He stumbles over his words for a few seconds. “...Come back in one piece.” He wishes the smile they gave him didn’t make his heart race the way it did.

Vivec was used to losing people, by some means or another. Which was partly why he trained himself to not grow attached. However you bear the smile of his old friend. Their speech paired with the way they carry themself screams of Nerevar. He knew they weren’t entirely the same as he, the flashes behind his eyes told him otherwise. Yet as he watches attentively as they speak excitedly of how they were going to akavir, to see the sights, the people, the food. The everything that wasn’t as mundane as Morrowind had become. He feels a string that hasn’t been pulled in a long time pluck painfully in his chest. First it had been Sil, his brother, then Ayem, who fell into a foolish madness. There shouldn’t be pain, watching someone who was now freed from the burden of prophecy walk away. But there was. He was able to suppress the odd burning behind his eyes, and managed to keep his voice even though he knew not how. Just as your hand touched the door handle, a god turned mortal croaked in a vulnerability that slammed into him like a tidal wave. “Please, please don’t go...please don’t leave.”

Sotha Sil knew what was to come, what would happen to you. He knew death couldn’t be avoided, only differed. Though buried deep beneath the rubble of a broken house there was a fragment of a mortal who was feeling the sense of fear he’d felt when Mehrunes Dagon had taken away someone he held so very close to his heart. His sister. Now, trying to steel his nerves as they smiled softly, speaking of their pending trip to Cyrodiil. He selfishly wanted to keep them here, even if it was wrong. “I’m excited, Sil.” The whisper came and went through his ears as his gaze dropped to the floor. Irrational fear swept over his mind like a dense fog giving him visions of this being the last time he’d see them before...well. Certain things they shouldn’t be involved with. “Visiting old friends...?” The mer managed to pry forth forced words from his lips. Though it wasn’t what he wanted to say. They beamed, his heart strings pulled. “A friend, yes...he can say what he likes about not enjoying people. But he was the one who sent me a letter.” They grinned cheekily. “When do you expect to be off on your next journey?” He pursed his lips. “Tomorrow.” There it was again, the ugly worry rearing its head. “I want you...” He started, a desperate gleam in his eyes. “I mean, I want you to stay here, with me.” The soft exhale paired with a doe eyed gaze, he had a feeling it worked. 

 Teldryn Sero tries to give off an idea that he’s not afraid of much. He’s seen, too much. He’s seen the sight of so many previously loved Dunmer settlements buried underneath the ash of red mountain all because of a man who abandoned his people. Of course, he never saw the chaos as it happened, rather he’d heard the stories from his parents, or the people he’d once knew yet never laid eyes on again. Crossing his arms apprehensively, he listens as you speak of going into an encampment for an amulet for a Khajiit trader of all things. He’s seen this happen before, but when it comes to people he cared about, it’s harder to watch. “You should let me come with you, Sera. It would be much easier than to go alone.”

Divayth Fyr knew the feeling of worry, he had daughters of his own, this feeling is abit more complicated when it was a love interest. The Nerevarine has a prophecy to fulfil. Who was he to stop them from doing that? He can’t say he cared very much about people. But he didn’t want Morrowind to be a burning husk should Dagoth Ur succeed in his plans. He can’t stop the narrowing of his eyes as your determined expression falls away to reveal the scared outlander that had arrived that fateful day in Seyda Neen. He’s then reminded that they had no say in what was befalling them, the duty that was so easily placed upon their shoulders. “I’m sure things will go smoothly.” He tried to assure them it only caused stress tears to gather at the corner of your eyes. “I’m scared, Divayth. I’m really scared. I don’t want to die in that place.” They whimpered. His throat closed up at the sound, they did sound afraid, terrified, even. Divayth held back the urge to physically comfort them, it reminded him so deeply of when Beyte had heard thunder for the first time, the scared wide eyed gaze she’d gave him as she hid away from the noise reminded him he was a parent. “Things will be alright...C/N.” He gently placed a hand on their shoulder, passing a calming spell in secret.

Neloth doesn’t know how to comfort people, so when the Dragonborn preps to defeat miraak The words he can possibly say to assure them are stuck in his throat. He was never good at this, it just wasn’t his forte. He was purely a telvanni wizard, and the telvanni aren’t good choices for morale support. He ponders giving them a calming spell to ease your rattled nerves, however his feet don’t move with him to do so. Their hands shaky, eyes wide in childlike fear, he frowns. “You defeated Alduin did you not? What’s so different about this one?” The words impulsively escaped him and he wanted to smack himself. Sometimes his sharp tongue wasn’t something he could control. The Dragonborn looked up, clenching their jaw. Angry tears burning their eyes. “The difference is is that it’s a person, a person’s who’s been distorted by a foul Daedric prince in return for knowledge he didn’t get in the end. Herma mora led an atmoran man on and turned him into a monster. The only other person in this world who shares my title and I have to kill them. Who am I to presume someone is wrong for wanting freedom after so long of imprisonment?!” Tears streamed down their face as their eyes slowly became fuller and fuller as the seconds ticked by. He didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t say they were bound to this via prophecy, but the title of dragonborn was ingraved into their being till now till the day they took their last breath. “Let Solstheim crumble, then.” He dismissed. Their head whipped to face him, disbelief shining on their face. “What?” His lip twitches unconsciously. “Let Solstheim crumble, we all have places we can go in the end so what does it matter...” He pauses for several moments. “...as long as you’re safe, that’s all that should matter.”

Voryn Dagoth eyes lit up with concern. “The Dwemer aren’t ones to be trifled with, c/n. Even if you are related to Nerevar, should we proceed the way we are you can easily greet death. They are just rumored to be advanced, they are.” He said, lips twitching into an anxious frown. “Dumac would never hurt me, you know that Voryn.” They gripped onto his fingers and sqeezued confortingly. The Chimer peered down at them and sighed heavily. “You don’t understand c/n, if it came down to us or them, do you honestly think they’d ever chose us?” His words gave them pause, they swallowed thickly with a brief shaky smile, before their arms wrapped around him. Cheek pressing into his robe. “My bother will handle things, I know he will. You have to trust him Voryn, you know he loves you, he loves Ayem, Vehk and Sil too. They will handle things right and should anything happen you know well he will always come to you.” They mumbled nearly inaudibly. He could tell they weren’t entirely truthful but chose to stay quiet, he had no choice but to trust their judgment. Nerevar’s judgement. If Dumac Dwarf-king claimed to love him, they would understand why they needed to do what they did. “I don’t want you to get hurt, should things go wrong. I don’t want to lose you.” He confessed solemly into their ear.

[siren07tucker]

Here are some random facts and ideas I had for a lot of the kids that I guess I never really mentioned? The big brother AU and Theo is made by @petrichormeraki  most of this is inspired by @smileforever3

 Djali‘s biological parents or actually the leaders of a hunting group Djali‘s mom was a hybrid who was abused by other hybrids so because she looked more human she managed to join a hunting party eventually falling in love with the Son of the leader of the hunt this was going to be revealed in a story that I had planned that I never really started?

 Grian‘s race is very open to things their main law is as long as it hurts no one else mentally or physically you’re good to do whatever so because of this rule in Grian’s bloodline of noble kings there was a sentient armor stand somewhere in there meaning that technically Grumbot is actually the crown prince Junie would be Second in line for the throne if their kingdom ever were to pop up again

Also technically speaking the legendary feathers of in mortality don’t exist since soul wise Grumbot is the first born in Grian of bloodline because blood is a very arbitrary thing whoever the king considers his child is the prince adopted or otherwise so if someone tried to chop off Junie’s wings to gain in mortality they would get a whole lot of nothing. unless they try eating Redstone feathers?

First up jiggles uses she them pronouns and is trans which is valid!

The main reason why most people can actually tell that pink blade is adopted it’s because she’s a Hoglan and not a Piglin.. techno Blade is in fact a Piglin! 

May be the reason why Lucy likes arson it’s because technically his older brother would be snapnap (I don’t know how to spell his name)

 I had an idea that symphony would be possessed by a demon which would be the demon that made  jschlatt go crazy. Basically the demon goes down the bloodline and originally it was going to go after Tubbo but then seen the pain Symphony was coming through it would latch onto him it wouldn’t reveal itself at first because of ghostbur but maybe during an election for the next president symphony decides to toss his hat into the ring and make Lmanburg  see it stupidity and try to bring back old laws that have been abandoned like fighting with their words and not wearing armor whatsoever and of course his papa‘s very proud of him and his first presidential debate he walks in wearing Wilbur‘s old Lmanburg uniform...  but he’s talked over and ignored by the other candidates and that demon comes in proceeds two convince him to take a little walk near the old presidents grave.. Long story short the demon takes the form of jschlatt and a crazy Wilbur and proceeds to convince Symphony to be more like his dad‘s at some point even becoming  to truly convince Symphony to become a “businessman” The next time they hold A debate Symphony comes in wearing very professional clothes in hand is a golden apple that he tosses during the meeting this time he’s not talked over this time he gets a say in the people eat it up!  and say this demon makes a deal with the Crimson or the blood lines whatever it’s called now basically Lucy loses control and becomes a monster and what little control Symphony has left is taken away? 

I feel Theo would actually hate CJ, at first he’s in love with the idea of having a brother someone that can share in his distress about their dad but when he meets his brother he’s thoroughly disappointed. first off his brother doesn’t have the same problems as him no Godlike powers to worry about second of all it seems like they had, completely different lives his brother is a prince and he a peasant  and they have completely different ideas of their dad. Theo hates him for what he did to his papa but his brother CJ is obsessed with the idea of having a happy family because he vaguely remembers a time where he was his father is everything and maybe Theo is also a bit jealous of CJ‘s gift he had to steal his magical weapon from his uncle or well borrow without asking?

Maybe the only way they could get along is a road trip say some type of force plop them in the middle of the woods far far far away from the rest of the SMP? And spice it up a little bit more something definitely not someone is chasing them? Maybe there is some type of fourth hunting party that hunts hybrids that are only descended from gods?  either way these two brothers need to work together to get back home by the end of this trip if they are still even alive Theo learns more about who his father used to be and learns that his brother isn’t some spoiled brat and maybe CJ learns that his father isn’t who he remembers and that having a brother isn’t so bad? 

 this is the final one I got   Aislin goes through his imo face during a break with Junie and instead of going full hot topic he goes more alternative with some pastel colors mixed in with the black! 

[valkyrie0cain]

QUELIOT MOMENTS SEASON THREE

All of these posts will be tagged Masterlist and Queliot Masterlist so if you ever need to find it go to my blog and look under that tag.

If there is anything you want to add/amend please send me a message.

This does not include every time they are in a scene together, more along the lines of directly speaking to each other or moments the fandom has come to agree are important.

SEASON THREE

3.01 The Tale of the Seven Keys Quentin is on Earth, Eliot is in Fillory. Eliot gets his quest bestowed upon him. Peacock: “You have a brother of the heart with the floppy hair.” E: “That would be Quentin.” Peacock: “You’re parts of one whole.”

Eliot sends a messenger!rabbit to Quentin. Rabbit: “Need help. Love, Eliot.”

3.02 Heroes and Morons NADA, Quentin is on Earth following leads on magic, Eliot is finding the first key.

3.03 The Losses of Magic NADA, Quentin is dealing with Alice and the Lamprey, Eliot is abandoned in Fillory with Fen and Fray.

3.04 Be the Penny Quentin sends a rabbit to Margo and Eliot to tell them Penny is dead. Eliot, Fen, and Fray are trapped in the Neitherlands avoiding cannibals.

Eliot, Fen, and Fray eventually get out of the Neitherlands and end up back in the Cottage with Quentin and Julia. Quentin runs up and hugs him. This is the first time they’ve seen each other since magic has been shut off.

3.05 A Life in the Day Any Queliot fan already knows this episode is a mega episode but for shits and giggles, let's go through it.

Eliot sends Fen and Fray into the city while himself and Quentin look at the Book of Seven Keys. Eliot gives Quentin a mini pep talk, basically just telling him to buck up if he ever wants to get Alice back. Quentin tells him they have to go find the Mosaic but it’s in Fillory.

Once a keyhole appears, Eliot and Quentin go through the clock to get to Fillory. E: “Guess this leg of the quest is you and me.”

They are transported to Fillory but it’s Fillory of the past. Even so, they hug happily. They find the Mosaic and begin working. Also, can we appreciate that the tail-end of S2 and most of this season Quentin has been wearing a man-bun? Cause he pulls it off really well.

There are a couple scenes of the first year together. Banter ensues. They meet Arielle who offers them peaches and plums.

They celebrate a year together, second Queliot kiss (and they totally had sex FIGHT ME).

Quentin and Eliot share a life together. They fight, they cry, the reason with one another, they learn how to grow as a couple. E: “You want to live your life, live it here.” Q: “What is that supposed to mean?” E: “You know exactly what it means.” There’s a lot of debate about that quote but I firmly believe it’s Eliot telling him that if he wants to have a life, fall in love, etc then he needs to do it here, at the Mosaic.

Quentin gets married and has a son with Arielle but I believe that the relationship is shared betwixt Arielle, Quentin, and Eliot. They get to know each other intimately, living together day in and day out. They share something most people never get to experience.

Eliot dies. This is the FOURTH TIME Quentin has to see/deal with Eliot dying. Quentin loses his soulmate (a quote from Jason Ralph) and as he goes to bury Eliot, he finds the tile to solve the Mosaic. He has to give the Mosaic to Jane Chatwin. Quentin dies.

In the future, Margo receives a letter from Quentin instructing her to retrieve the key from Jane and right before Eliot and Quentin go into the clock, Margo stops them. She tells them about the letter. Q: “Wow, I mean I can’t believe we died. Sort of weird. Sad, right?”

Eliot and Quentin go back to Fillory and enter the throne room where they find the peaches and plums that Quentin sent ahead of time.

They are injected with 50 years of memories. E: “Deja vu.” Q: “Peaches and plums.” E: “Peaches and plums.” (anyone that has seen 4.05 knows what happens next but I’m not going to talk about it UNTIL 4.05. That being said, anything after this episode will be looked at through the lens of KNOWING what happened in 4.05)

3.06 Do You Like Teeth? Eliot and Quentin are back in Fillory. Eliot resumes being King, Quentin is a palace guard.

They hold a secret meeting. Eliot touches Quentin’s face. Quentin tells Eliot they have to go to The Abyss. Q: “But, you know, we get to go on a quest on a magical boat, so it doesn’t totally suck.” E: “I wish I could. Believe me. But duty calls a dozen different ways and I can’t leave Margo.” Q: “Right. Of course.” E: “Sorry.” Q: “No. I was looking forward to going on a boating quest with you.” E: “Who wouldn’t? Uh, think about it. You can take Benedict. Go be life-partners with someone else for a bit.” Quentin’s face: MMMMWATCHA SAAAAY THAT YOU ONLY MEANT WELL. LITERALLY THIS IS ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATING CAUSE ITS RIGHT AFTER THEY SHARED A LIFE TOGETHER AND QUENTIN IS ON-FUCKING-BOARD WITH SPENDING A LOT MORE TIME TOGETHER AND ELIOT IS LIKE “MERP, CAN’T. BUSY.”

3.07 Poached Eggs Margo and Eliot meet up with Quentin and Poppy and head to Earth. Eliot seems annoyed that Quentin has a girl with him.

3.08 Six Short Stories About Magic NADA

3.09 All That Josh Alice, Quentin, Kady, and Josh are stuck in an alternate reality inside the Cottage where it’s all party all the time and if you DON'T party you get beat up/killed.

Margo and Eliot are sentenced to death.

Penny is working the library.

Julia is with Fen dealing with the Fairies.

They can all hear each other mentally. This is the first time Quentin and Eliot have had contact since Quentin left on his boat trip. E: “Am I hallucinating?” M: “If you are so am I.” Q: “Eliot? Margo?” E: “Quentin?”

They all have to sing Under Pressure to unify.

3.10 The Art of the Deal Quentin, Alice, and Josh join Eliot and Margo on the Muntjac. They discuss Fillory and debate if they are still the leaders.

3.11 Twenty-Three NADA, alternate timeline episode.

3.12 The Fillorian Candidate NADA, Quentin mentions his alternate past to his dad.

3.13 Will You Play With Me? The gang's together discussing getting to the Castle at the End of the World.

Quentin and Eliot sit together on a couch.

Quentin, Eliot, Margo, and Penny talk about the Castle. Quentin leaves, distracted. Eliot watches him go.

Quentin incepts the lady guarding the monster in the castle. He returns to the gang and tells him that he’s made arrangements to open the door for them in exchange for himself to stay in the castle. Eliot gives him a look. Alice: “This isn’t the solution.” E: “I second that.” Quentin states that Alice has died for them and that Eliot was willing to stay in Fillory forever (fans have said this could mean when he married Fen or when he sacrificed his life staying with Quentin at the Mosaic). Q: “Someone has to step up.” His gaze lingers on Eliot (this scene is very important given the events of 4.05). Eliot and Quentin spend pretty much the rest of the scene staring at each other.

They go to the castle and Quentin prepares to give himself over to the monster and the castle. Eliot intervenes with a gun and shoots the host. Q: “Fuck, Eliot.” E: “God-killing bullet.” Q: “This is not what we agreed on.” E: “I didn’t actually agree on anything. But I did decide that one of my best friends wouldn’t spend the rest of his life locked in a prison, guarding what turns out to be a really not so scary monster.” Eliot leads Quentin away. They rejoin the group, there’s this split-second where Quentin looks over at him and the look on both their faces is of relief.

Alice betrays them, Julia comes in and saves the day. Fogg and the Library come and ruin everything.

Everyone gets mind-wiped and now lead different lives.

Eliot gets taken over by the Monster.

Monster!Eliot finds Quentin who now goes by Brian. M!E: “Will you play with me?” Brian!Quentin walks away from Monster!Eliot who proceeds to follow him.

[bohemian-war]

DAY TRIP | BEN HARDY X READER

Hellooooo :D!!!

This is my second Ben Hardy’s imagine following @lion-wasczyk  ‘s request. I went to Windsor for the first time on a day trip yesterday and I absolutely fell in love with the city so I thought I could do this based on that trip. Something fluffy with Ben :’). 

Enjoy! 

Like/reblog/feedback’s always welcome and truly appreciated.  P.S. This might turn out to be longer than expected.                                                           ------------ “Are you sure you want to do this? You must be exhausted after your trip.” 

Ben finishes preparing his backpack by putting the water bottle in one of the compartments. He turns around with a smile and approaches you. He wraps you in his arms and you rest your head in his chest closing your eyes and feeling his heart beating calmly. Ben sighs and gives you tender kisses on your forehead. ”Y/N, love, I am fine, honestly. I promised you we’d do this. In fact, a day outside London is exactly what I need.” It had been a couple of days since his trip to the US to attend the Golden Globes. Rami and Bohemian Rhapsody had won two awards for best actor and best film and you could not be happier and prouder of the whole crew. You had agreed with Ben that you two would go on a day trip to Windsor & Eton together after he returned but now that you thought about it more closely, the jet lag might not be doing him any good and you could not imagine how a whole day's excursion could benefit Ben. “Are you sure that this is all about me? Because if you are the one craving for a movie, dinner, and perhaps other things... we could call it all off and stay in.” Ben pulled away from you a bit to see your expression. You were blushing so badly that went back to hide your face in his chest.  “No, no. I am fine. I swear.”

“Let’s go then.” You smile at Ben and grab your stuff. You were really excited about visiting Windsor. You had never been there but since you had seen the Royal wedding on television, you were looking forward to exploring the city on your own with the love of your life by your side.  Once on the train, Ben helps you to leave the backpacks on the floor next to the seats and you both sit down and admire the landscape. The whole trip lasts barely an hour from central London. “I haven’t been to Windsor since I was in primary school.” Ben laughs and his smile awakens your curiosity. “How’s that so?” “We used to do lots of day trips back then. You know that England stands out for playing an important part in History so when it came to studying certain topics, they’d take us to the place in question and we could understand the whole thing better.” It fascinated you the way he usually talked about his early days and how his eyes would shine by the mere mention of it. It could also be that you were too in love with him to see any difference.  “That’s incredible. The most I used to do was going to see a shabby play or to the circus. Poor animals. I couldn’t stand it.” Ben sighs and brings you closer while kissing your temple.  “I am sure you’ll love Windsor. It feels cozy and close to home.”

“I cannot wait to see it. I might find my Prince Harry and marry him there after all, as Meghan did.”

He snorts and denies with a funny head.

“I will never understand why you girls are all obsessed with Prince Harry. He is no one special. He just happens to have money.”

You open your mouth to complain.

“He happens to be a dashing Prince. You are just jealous, Ben!”

“Jealous of what? Of him having to deal with lots of responsibilities on a daily basis and not enjoying life as someone should? I am not jealous. I am grateful for not having to go through that the rest of my life. Thank you very much.”

You sigh and look at him with sad eyes

“You are a famous actor now. It does not make any difference.”

“It does. It is not the same thing at all.”

“Whatever...“

You rest your back in your seat and cross your arms in front of you with a frown and pouting like a child. 

“In my defense though...” Ben starts and leans over to whisper in your ear. “I can say that I can make you feel better than Prince Harry. I can make you wet your pants in less than five minutes. I literally can have you panting my name just with my look and attractive accent, darling. 

A deep heat wave takes over you and suddenly you find yourself putting your arms between your legs to stop the feeling of pleasure that you have begun to feel there. A tiny squeal comes out of your mouth and an old lady with shopping bags looks angry at you. You just want to disappear. All you do is feeling how you shrink in your seat. Ben sees you and laughs. You start punching him gently.

“You are evil!”

“Oh, love, you cannot even imagine.”

Once you both arrive in Windsor you are surprised to see that the place is quiet and pretty much empty. Everyone has returned to London to work after Christmas and you can walk with all kinds of tranquility without anyone interrupting you. When leaving the small station you realize that there is a small path that goes to the city center and allows you to appreciate the castle even more.

“Unfortunately, the castle is closed today as they are doing some works inside. But we can always come to see it again in the future.” Ben explains to you while looking up to admire the view and holding your hand at the same time. 

“I’d love that.”

“Maybe for our wedding day.”

You immediately snap and look at him with your mouth open. 

“Is that a proposal?”

Ben smiles looking at you and rubbing the back of his neck shyly. He ends up avoiding your gaze and takes your hand back in his. You can tell he is quite overwhelmed by the previous question. You got excited there for a second and really wanted to apologize but it’d make everything extra awkward so you decide to let go and not continue putting so much pressure on him. 

“Where are you taking me now?”

“It’s probably one of my favorite places in England.” Ben excitedly smiles.

“It must be good then.”

After going pass the museum, the Royal station and the shopping area you both end up going to The Long Walk (check it here. I did yesterday and the experience is gonna stay with me forever. It was beautiful!). When your eyes stop on the path that starts at your feet and the great amount of nature that surrounds it, your eyes become watery and the first tears begin to emerge streaming down your face. You did not know for a second if it was your excitement and natural reaction to it or everything was caused by the cold wind.

“Ben, this is... beautiful.” 

”The Long Walk runs south from Windsor Castle to the Copper Horse statue of King George III atop Snow Hill where there are impressive views of the castle. It is a total of 2.65 miles.”

Ben smiles proudly of his historic speech as he passes his view of you to the landscape in front of you. When you see that you do not react, he approaches you and surrounds you with his arms.

“Shall we?”

You smile and nod.

It takes you an hour to cross all the way but it's worth it. You both end up under the statue and watch Windsor from the hill while the deer run freely through the forest.

“I have no words to describe this right now.” You were astonished and overwhelmed by the situation. “I cannot believe that we all live locked away in our own world and get to miss places like this one every single day.” 

Bed nods at your words. 

“That’s why sometimes we all need a break to remind us of things like this exist for a reason.”

You sigh and look at him. Ben passes you back the water bottle and you drink while he observes you. The cold water runs down your sore through after the tiring walk and it really hurts, however, it makes you feel so alive that you wouldn’t change it for anything else. You both stay there for a while without saying a word when Ben stands up and approaches you. He kneels in front of you.

“I’d like to apologize.”

“What for?” You frown.

“For not answering your question earlier regarding the proposal.”

“Please, Ben, forget about it. It was stupid. You don’t need to beat yourself up.”

You sigh. You had completely forgotten about it and now that he was bringing it back again you started to feel sick. Ben looks at you with his shiny eyes. 

“The truth is that I have something for you...” He reaches for his bag and spends a few seconds looking for something. He takes out a small black box covered with a velvet bow. You put a hand in your mouth not believing that he would have been able to do it.

“Y/N forgive me, honestly. That conversation came out wrong and I was looking for the right moment.”

Tears are now streaming down your face. You wipe them away because they are starting to blind your vision of Ben and you also need to keep everything professional. 

“Y/N, listen, I might not be Prince Harry...” You laugh and shake your head while wiping your tears again.”I don’t own a castle. I am just an actor who happens to make films; sometimes even good ones, you know?”

You immediately reach out for him. You absolutely hate when he doesn’t give him some credit for his career. Ben lets you guide him towards you but proceeds with his speech. You can tell he is nervous but he is also under control as it’s the two of you in the hill. 

“But I am willing to sacrifice everything I’ve got to make you happy and if that involves talking about the Royal family and bringing you here, away from civilization, then I will.”

You feel dumb now. Your soul has abandoned your body, which is anchored to the ground, and your eyes are full of tears that never fall. You watch Ben open the box and you come across with the most beautiful engagement ring covered in diamonds and sapphires. 

“Y/N, you’d make me the happiest man in the world if you decided to give me a chance as your future husband. Will you marry me?”

They always say that it takes at least three seconds until you answer even when you have been rehearsing the entire situation for a while. You knew your answer but you couldn’t speak. You also had to think of what your life might be like now; married to a famous star. Lots of doubts start haunting you, however, you shake them away. You knew you had to fight against your anxiety. You had been very unhappy before meeting Ben. You never knew if you could make it as well as you did not know if this decision was being selfish but what you did know is that you deserved to be happy for at least five minutes of your life. So you start nodding.

“Yes!”

Ben smiles in relieved and helps you stand up. He puts the ring in your finger and that is when you cannot stop staring at it. 

“Ben, I have no words...”

“Y/N, don’t even mention it. Are you happy?”

You nod and start pouting at the same time. You were probably a massive mess at that very moment but you couldn’t care less. 

“Then that’s the most important thing in the world to me.” Ben stares at you and gives you a gentle pat on the chest. You surround his neck with your arms while he pulls you closer by the waist. 

“Joe’s gonna be jealous...” You laugh.

“Well, he’s got cardboard Ben to please him instead.”

You cringe and frown at the same time. 

“I keep thinking that’s a weird thing to do.”

Ben laughs and takes his phone out. 

“Should we immortalize the moment and send it to him?”

You both decide to take a selfie on top of the hill with the statue behind you both covered in sweat but happy at last. You open your hand in front of you to show your ring to the camera. Ben ends up uploading the photo to Instagram with the caption, "she said yes." #happiestmanintheworld.

It did not take Joe more than five minutes to answer with a "... I did it first" and a picture of him in a suit with cardboard Ben in a white dress. The rest of the cast complimented you sometime later. You indeed had to highlight Gwylim’s joy and the number of champagne emoticons and exclamations used by Lucy.

Before returning to London, you both stop at The Madame Posh for an afternoon tea and to start discussing the design of the menus for the ceremony. Because everything that promised to be a simple day trip ended up being the happiest day of your life.

[theyearoftheking]

Book 5: The Stand

Bloggers note: if you’re looking for a complete plot summary and a list of all the characters in this epic tome, this is not the blog post for you. Proceed with caution. 

Once upon a time, there was a precocious ten year-old, with divorced parents. One parent embraced her weirdness and didn’t pay attention to what books she was bringing home from the library; and the other parent was my dad... who constantly wondered (aloud) why I wasn’t like normal kids. 

Being of slightly above-average intelligence, I saw this as an affront, and did subtle things just to piss him off. Subtle things “normal” children probs wouldn’t do. The summer I was ten, my dad had picked up a paperback copy of The Stand, and was raving to me about how good it was. I remember he was fixated on people falling dead in their bowls of Chunky soup. 

“Sounds like a cool book, maybe I’ll read it,” I commented. 

“This isn’t a book for children. You still haven’t read that copy of The Hobbit I gave you.” 

Hold my beer, motherfucker. I’m here for it. And The Hobbit was boring af. I never got past all the singing. 

Just to piss him off, I read the book cover to cover, faster than he did. You know, like normal vindictive ten year-old girls do. I don’t have a lot of memories of my dad growing up, but I hold onto this one fast and tight, because I got mine in the end. I was like the Trashcan Man of the fifth grade set. Just with a worse haircut. See below. 

Needless to say, my comprehension of The Stand almost thirty years later is a little bigger, wider, and deeper. It’s also colored by other epic “Good vs. Evil” reads (sigh, yes... even Tolkien); and King’s other works (mostly The Dark Tower). While at times this was not an easy book to read, I’m glad I powered through it. Ultimately, I feel rewarded I didn’t give up on page 872 like I had initially wanted to. I’m also glad I didn’t go with my gut instinct of reading the original released in in 1978, and then later on the uncut edition that was released in 1990. One reading of The Stand per year is more than enough, thank you. And besides, there’s fun pictures along the way! I mean, if I’m being honest, the book is mostly pictures with just a few words here and there to break it up. I’m absolutely kidding. 

Let’s get into it, shall we?

First of all, I picked the worst fucking time to read this book. Coronavirus is probably going to kill the whole world, and I refuse to be one of the survivors like in The Stand. There’s not enough bourbon in Kentucky for me to survive that shit show. Additionally, my family is huge into board games, and we thought Pandemic might be a fun cooperative game to try. Spoiler: it’s awesome, we’re all hooked on it. I highly recommend it for your next game night. Maybe an End of the World/Pandemic theme?? You can all wear gloves and masks, eat shelf stable foods and bottled water, and play REM on repeat. Sounds... awesome. 

But I digress. The Stand is your ultimate post-apocalyptic good versus evil showdown. A government employee with Captain Trips (the world ending virus) goes AWOL from his base, and takes a frantic road trip across the country with his family, where he manages to contaminate everyone he comes in contact with. 

What is Captain Trips? Well, I’m so glad you asked! To hear a doctor explain it, “We’ve got a disease with several well-defined stages... but some people may skip a stage. Some people may backtrack a stage. Some people may do both. Some people stay in one stage for a relatively long time and others zoom though all four as if they were on a rocket-sled...” 

The virus spreads (like viruses do), until there’s less than 15,000 people left in the country (rough estimate). The people still alive start having two types of dreams; either scary nightmares about The Walking Man, or peaceful dreams about Mother Abigail. Again... good versus evil. Guess who is who. If you need clarification, let me give you this one little quote about Randall Flagg, courtesy of Mother Abigail, “He’s the purest evil left in the world. The rest of the bad is a little evil. Shoplifters and sexfiends and people who like to use their fists. But he’ll call them. He’s started already. He’s getting them together a lot faster than we are. Before he’s ready to make his move, I guess he’ll have a lot more. Not just the evil ones that are like him, but the weak ones... the lonely ones... and the ones that have left God out of their hearts.” 

And his followers?

“They were nice enough people and all, but there wasn’t much love in them. Because they were too busy being afraid. Love didn’t grow very well in a place where there was only fear, just as plants didn’t grow very well in a place where it was always dark.” 

Yeah. I’m just going to leave that there for you to read and digest. 

So, the remaining people from all over the country either ended up in Vegas with Flagg, or Boulder with Mother Abigail and The Free Zone; which is basically Bernie Sander’s Utopian dream. 

God damn it! I swore I wasn’t going to get political and compare Donald Trump to Randall Fla- 

Ok, so The Free Zone. Most of the people who come to Boulder, want to meet Mother Abigail Freemantle, the one hundred and eight year old black woman they’ve been dreaming about. She’s got a self-described case of the shine, and speaks stupid relevant truth to her followers, “I have harbored hate of the Lord in my heart. Every man or woman who loves Him, they hate Him too, because He’s a hard God, a jealous God, He Is, what He Is, and in this world He’s apt to repay service with pain while those who do evil ride over the roads in Cadillac cars. Even the joy of serving Him is a bitter joy. I do His will, but the human part o me has cursed Him in my heart.” 

I’m not religious, but that hit hard. And it shows you the clear difference between Randall Flagg, and Mother Abigail. 

Later on, Mother Abigail also hits us over the head, and explains to us why this book is titled, The Stand: “But he is in Las Vegas, and you must go there, and it is there that you will make your stand. You will go, and you will not falter, because you have the Everlasting Arm of the Lord God of Hosts to lean on. Yes. With God’s help you will stand.”

Spoiler: it doesn’t quite go according to her plan. Very few are left standing at the end.

 So, The Free Zone. People come together, dispose of dead bodies, get electricity turned back on again, clear the roads of abandoned cars, and form a de-facto government. While lots of characters come and go (die. They die.) throughout the book, there are a few mainstays in The Free Zone: Franny, Harold, Stu, Larry, Nick, Tom, Nadine, and Lucy. But again... good versus evil. While most of the residents of The Free Zone are good, Flagg is able to whisper in the ears of some members, mostly Harold and Nadine, who end up defecting and making the trip to Vegas. 

While socialist utopia is succeeding in Boulder, Flagg is ruling with fear of crucifixion in Vegas. His henchmen include Lloyd, and The Trashcan Man. Oh, Trashy... maybe one of King’s most iconic characters. He’s a bit of a firebug (understatement of the century), and really goes out in a blaze of glory (ha. Pun intended). 

In fact, the two heroes of this book are Trashcan Man, thanks to his epic nuclear disaster; and simple-minded Tom Cullen, who is able to infiltrate Flagg’s inner circle, and successfully make it out, rescuing Stu Redman, who is dying in the desert with a broken leg and a horrible infection along the way. Tom Cullen is the character you root for. But Trashy is the character you’re always curious about. He’s like that rebel guy you dated in high school for ten minutes, and now stalk on Facebook, because you want to see what shady shit he’s up to twenty years later. 

This is the biggest oversimplification I think I’ve ever written. The onus is on you to just pick up the damn book and read it yourself. Do it soon, because you might not have a lot of time left, what with Coronavirus breathing it’s death fumes down our necks. 

For those still keeping track, we have TWO Wisconsin references in The Stand. The first was on page five, set in a gas station in East Texas, “...had covered himself with glory as a quarterback of the regional high school team, had gone on to Texas A&M with an athletic scholarship, and had played for ten years with the Green Bay Packers...” 

I can’t help but feel Steve is a closeted Packers fan. He lives in Maine, so I know he’s contractually obligated to be a Patriots fan (gag), but come on... homeboy loves him some green and yellow. 

The second reference comes from our friend Trashcan Man, while trying to find a walking route of possible destruction. “He had planned to get over to the west side of Gary, near the confusion of interchanges leading various roads towards Chicago or Milwaukee...”

Question... does Gary, Indiana still smell in a post-apocalyptic world? Asking for a friend. 

We also start getting the Dark Tower references fast and heavy. I didn’t make note every time Steve referenced wolves, crows, or wheels; because we’d be up over a million references now. And Randall Flagg himself is straight out of The Tower. So that’s fun. And we have our first “ka” reference: “And it came to him with a dreamy, testicle-shriveling certainty that this was the dark man, his soul, his ka somehow projected into this rain-drenched, grinning crow that was looking at him...”

‘Tis ka, bitches. 

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 8

Dark Tower References: 4

Book Grade: A- 

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books 

The Shining

The Stand

‘Salem’s Lot

Carrie 

Night Shift

Next up is The Dead Zone, which I must have watched a million times as a kid, because my mom was obsessed with it, but I’ve never actually read the book. So this should be fun! I mean... who doesn’t love reading a book and imagining Christopher Walken without his cowbell as the main character? 

Long Days and Pleasant Nights, Rebecca 

[wanderingstoryteller]

Path of Fire Thoughts - Act II

And the adventure continues! In case you missed it, you can read Part One of my little recap series here. Bear in mind: Spoilers for both Act I AND Act II are below the cut. Proceed at your own risk. 

I do have one non-spoilery thought about all this before we proceed, though. See, the direction the story took has left a lot of people in the community... unusually bitter. I’m not going to judge anyone for deciding they don’t like the where things went. While I personally can’t agree, I know that there’s no objective standard for this sort of thing. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” and all that, right?

But one complaint in particular has really been getting on my nerves. Specifically, this idea I’ve seeing that these lore-bombs are proof Arenanet “Doesn’t respect the story of the first game”. Maybe that criticism would have had a little more merit in 2013, but now? In this expansion? Really? 

In these new maps, my character can’t walk ten feet without tripping over at least three callbacks to the first game. I have been geeking out for four straight days over things 99% percent of our community neither knows nor cares about. Has anyone stopped to consider that maybe -- just maybe -- the devs who created Prophecies and Nightfall in the first place might actually be fond of their previous work?

If you personally don’t like this story, that’s perfectly alright. But please don’t run around saying silly things like this. It just kills the mood for everyone, and it’s clearly not true anyway. 

Anyway, enough heavy stuff. Time for some lighter news: The End of Days.

First thing’s first: Yay, actual Revenant lore! It wasn’t much, nothing more than an off-hand comment by Rytlock, but the implications are huge. Revenant legends are capable of contacting the living and teaching them how to harness these powers. Rytlock was taught by Glint -- because of course Glint wouldn’t let some minor inconvenience like “death” stop her meddling -- but what’s stopping the other legends from doing it? Because screwing with people from beyond the pale of death is Shiro Tagachi’s wheelhouse, too. 

I’d also like to say that this instance did wonders for Rytlock as a character. For just a second, we got a look under all that anger and snark. And what we saw was... guilt. “I failed them. I failed Glint.” I’ve seen a lot of people annoyed at Rytlock’s attitude this expansion, but it’s easy to forget just where that attitude comes from: a sense of deep shame, a feeling that he’s the reason Snaff and Glint died. Like Eir and Zojja, he has a pretty intense case of survivor’s guilt. 

The above definitely made me nerd out, but as it transpired, we were just getting started. Next stop: The Tomb of the Primeval Kings. Elona’s Primeval rulers always fascinated me, especially Nahlah and Dahlah, who were in charge when the Scarab Plague rolled through. I never dreamed in all of Guild Wars 2 that I’d actually be able to talk to them. Which I did. And it was amazing. 

But all of that -- Glint’s Lair, my audience with the Primeval Kings -- was all just the warm-up. Because we then hit the part that really blew me away... and the part that’s got all the controversy. So let’s talk about our audience with Kormir, why I loved it, and where it admittedly could’ve gone a bit better. 

Why I Loved It: 

I feel like so many people didn’t enjoy this scene because they expected Kormir or the other Six to help us somehow. If that’s the root of the problem, it would explain why I was fine with it -- because I knew they wouldn’t. The Six were pretty adamant about keeping out of human affairs since Nightfall, after we proved we could hold our own against a god-tier enemy. So the idea that they’re withdrawing from Tyria completely, abandoning even their Realms? Can’t say I didn’t see it coming. 

Her reasons for not interfering were also pretty sound. Because she’s right -- the last time the Six fought on Tyria, they created the Desolation and scarred it forever. But when we fought Abaddon in Nightfall, we never did any damage that couldn’t eventually be reversed. Basically, Kormir throwing down would be the equivalent of stopping a roach infestation by setting your entire house on fire. Sure, you killed the roaches, but there were better ways, dude. 

Finally... anyone else catch Kormir’s final words to Kasmeer? “You carry with you the blessings of all the gods. Never forget that.” See, when I heard that, it sent my brain on a bit of a journey, and I started putting some pieces together:

1. Kormir admitted that she was still an active (if incredibly subtle) force in the world up to that point. 2. Kasmeer has been a devout follower of the Six her entire life. 3. Kormir clearly had a special interest in Kas, if she “carries the blessings of all the gods”.  4. Kasmeer also has the inexplicable and blatantly supernatural power to detect any spoken lie.  5. One of Kormir’s most well-known titles is “The Goddess of Truth”. 

My conclusion? Kasmeer’s power is a blessing from Kormir, and I’m amazed I never considered that possibility before. Like, holy shit, you guys. This is huge. 

I’d also just like to add: Kormir’s Sanctum is awesome. I explored for almost an hour and I know for a fact I still haven’t found everything. I’m definitely going back when I complete the main story. It’s like Hidden Arcana all over again. 

Where It Could’ve Gone Better:

If you love something, you shouldn’t be afraid to criticize it, and I admit there were some things I found a little lacking. First, Balthazar. While it’s true that Balthazar being a temperamental asshole does have precedent, his motives are pretty disappointing. The writers could’ve made him a tragic figure, an honorable-but-flawed warrior that went off the rails. What we got is serviceable, but I wanted something more than that, ya know? 

Also, if this is really curtains for the Six on Tyria, I really wish Kormir’s Sanctum had done more to close a few loose ends -- especially where Balthazar is concerned. Because so far, we never did find out what happened to Menzies, or what happened to the Eternals, or even why he killed his father all those years ago. And if those questions aren’t answered here, I don’t think they’ll be answered anywhere. 

Am I the only one who really wishes Marjory were here? Because relationship stuff aside, it would have been very interesting to see her reaction to Kormir. Marjory isn’t one of the faithful. She’s the kind of person that would call Kormir out for the inaction of the Six. And seeing that unfold would have been fascinating. 

I know we’ve been talking for a while, but amazingly, we’re still not done. Because even more story stuff happened in the Riverlands. While I’m betting a lot of people found the search for the Lost City annoying, it was honestly one of the funnest parts of the story for me. Wandering around this massive map, following leads, narrowing things down... it made me feel like a real explorer. Plus, I think it was great for the pacing -- gave me time to process everything I’d just learned before I got to Kesho. 

In Kesho itself, I found a lot of cool stuff -- the revelation of Glint’s master plan was just the beginning. See, one of the pedestal recordings had a throwaway line that kind of shocked me: Joso mentioned, off-handedly, that the Elder Dragons weren’t always destructive. They used to be like Glint -- maintaining balance, redistributing magic, etc. Glint’s plan is just a restoration of the regular order. The implications for that are huge, and it opens the door for some very interesting story beats. 

I also love that we’re slowly learning more about the Forged. I think a big weakness for HoT’s storytelling is that I never fully understood what the deal with the Mordrem was. How self-aware were they, exactly? How did the process of corruption take place -- did the sylvari have to willingly submit, or could Mordremoth force the issue if it chose? Questions like that always bugged me, but the Forged don’t leave much room for ambiguity. We’re learning exactly where they come from, how they’re created, and what makes them serve Balthazar. The prototypes in Kesho were another piece of a puzzle that’s been delightful to solve. 

And finally... who betrayed who, Balthazar or Joko? Because I’ve been to the Desolation. Whatever alliance those two had clearly didn’t work out very well, if their respective armies are in a state of open warfare. Good thing it fell through, too, because turning Joko into one of Balthazar’s lieutenants would have been a great disservice to his character. Best to let him do his own thing. 

Final thoughts: The story hasn’t petered out like I thought it might -- at least, not yet. If anything, they raised the bar even higher. Can they stick the landing?

I’m off to Tarir to find out. Yes, time to see Aurene, a decision that will in no way go horribly, horribly wrong. See you after Act III! <3

[diaboliktheology]

3 tropes!!

For every “Trope” I get, I will post a TV trope for my muse. for @senjounochou

Tsundere Type B:  These Tsundere have deredere as their default mood. They are sweet, kind and generous, but just happen to have a hidden violent side as well. Don’t confuse the sweet tsundere with Bitch in Sheep’s Clothing because in this case, they have a temper almost always triggered by someone or something else, usually a Love Interest. Either they have Belligerent Sexual Tension, are an Accidental Pervert, or just have no idea how to handle feelings of love and attraction. In some cases, an Armoured Closet Gay character may act like a Tsundere to mask their feelings for the object of their same-sex affection. May also overlap with Violently Protective Girlfriend if her Love Interest is threatened or in danger.

So I think I’ve touched on it with a few friends but I’ve yet to fully explain Yui’s stance on romantic love. I’m not going to do it here either because I plan to explain it in a more developed HC I have in the works but here goes. Now Yui certainly suits this in she’s extremely inexperienced when it comes to love of a romantic nature having been homeschooled and being essentially raised by a Catholic clergy, she in canon also fits the violently protective girlfriend trope *see my mini canon on Yui’s ‘switch’. The violence may not be pointed at the threat head on but she’ll find a way to fuck up whoever is hurting her people/person so WATCH IT O_O*. 

Now, I wanted to add on to this and mention a point where my portrayal does deviate from canon in that a reason behind Yui being a classified Tsundere Type B is that she is uncomfortable being in love. Yes, this partly ties into her being inexperienced but in my portrayal and my default verse that’s set sometime after the second season of the anime and after the DF game and before LG Yui has had more than enough time to likely experience some aspects of romantic love. However, its due to these experiences and more so the individuals she’s experienced it with Yui remains somewhat opposed to the idea of romantic love/if not subconsciously frightened of it and what the feelings of it do to her. Yui actively fights feelings of this nature, she damn well rails against them and I’m not certain if she even realizes it as it’s more subconscious defense more than anything. In game canon Yui recognizes falling for any one of the vampires is a bad idea and it’s liable to end in emotional pain if not heartbreak for her. However, this doesn’t deter her and she essentially makes the decision to do so anyway at some point in each boys’ route. This is not certain for my portrayal. Yui…,doesn’t like being in love. There is so much uncertainty in that, not to mention the potential for all manner of pain and—,she’s already been through so much. This isn’t just in regards to ‘canon’ love interests. Yui will pointedly misinterpret or not understand cues and romantic gestures, and scenario’s with both the vampires and anyone else who shows a romantic nature in her, more so those outside canon. This is because there is an added element of danger for anyone who gets involved with her, much less in a romantic way because of her life circumstances *glares at the possessive vamps*. It’s why its in my rules that shipping with this girl canon or not probably isn’t going to be as easy as her outward nature makes it seem at first glance.

Hair of Gold, Heart of Gold: The character is a blonde. Therefore, obviously, she is beautiful, good, pure, young, kind, and innocent. Sweet, wholesome, kind, and feminine tend to be included, and the innocence can range up to Virgin Power. If she fights, it’s reluctantly and she tends to avoid violence where she can.

This one is pretty obvious as Yui hits ALL OF THESE POINTS PERFECTLY. She’s blonde, she’s stunning, she is genuinely kind and good as a person, even to the jerkass vampires that everyone who knows canon agrees that THEY DON’T DESERVE HER. Yui is a person who is more or less the epitome of warm sunshine given human form who does nothing but shower others in warmth, love and the opportunity to grow as people. Like, she is nothing but LOVE. She is the type of person who’d rather see herself dead and do the deed herself than to see those she cares about suffer. She’s my altruistic bab and yes its to a point that even with strangers I’d say her caring nature is damn near unhealthy but its who she is~.

Unlucky Everydude:  The Unlucky Everydude is similar to the Ordinary High-School Student but has some overt problem(s), which he usually points out in the first episode. He is not so much average as below average concerning some trait, possibily Book Dumb. The extent of this issue varies quite widely depending on the comedic or dramatic mood of the series. The most common one is, naturally, an inability to deal with women, for various reasons. As unlucky as he is he’s more The Everyman than The Unfavourite or the Butt Monkey. You could say that his lack of luck is more in his head than real.How effective and likeable his personality is often depends on the other characters’ personalities. In a Magical Girlfriend series, their personality tends to be more moderate since they will inevitably get together with the lead. In a Harem Series, the extremity of his character is needed to make him appealingly harmless to the other girls. His most important trait, weirdly enough, is intrusiveness. He will try to help people long after everyone else has given up or declared things “private matters”. He will also fill any basic role the girls project on him.

My dudes….. For all of Yui’s good points and personality features, she remains one of the most karmically unbalanced heroines I’ve EVER seen. Let’s do a rundown shall we?

She was orphaned as a baby, her parents likely murdered by Richter

She’s unknowingly made the vessel of the bitch queen herself Cordelia’s heart *something that leads to some hella unhappy times for her later*

She’s adopted by the very vampire hunter/priest that probably had a mark on him from the time he murdered Reiji and Shu’s mother who was a very high-class lady among the vampire aristocracy and one of the three wives of Vampire King Karlheinz. This may well have had a hand in her being selected as a sacrificial bride since canon is fuzzy on if it was all planned/preordained or not.

Pretty sure she had at least one nasty experience if not brush with death via drowning in her childhood. Her not being able to swim has to come from somewhere and I’m willing to bet good money trauma was what stopped her from learning. *Yui’s too much of a people pleaser and curious girl to not have wanted to learn at some point*

Through her childhood, she’s left alone for most of it due to her adoptive father being away for missions trips that some were likely covers for vampire hunting trips *and to think this jackass never thought to consider teaching her any amount of proper self-defense!?* Which meant she was more or left raised by the clergy itself wich left her with abandonment issues and a shitty sense of self-esteem for what little of it there is.

This clergy later offers her up as a sacrificial bride to a family of six bloodlusty and sadistic vampires :D ……… *rages*

Said vampires proceed to abuse and traumatize her physically, mentally, and emotionally during her time with them to the point where she either breaks, dies, or they just straight up kill her in some routes of the game.

In the anime and in some routes of the game she actually ends up possessed by the before mentioned bitch queen Cordy who does her damned best to break what’s left of Yui by using her body to do abhorrent things including hurting her love interest or the brothers who in the anime she’s come to care for enough to kill herself for in a moment of control via stabbing herself with a dagger she’d earlier been given in case Subaru needed the extra help in committing suicide. Something she told him she’d never be able to do, despite him telling her he had to unless she wanted to die herself.

And in later games, she’s routinely kidnapped and put through similar amounts and types of abuse and trauma by the other vampires, and first bloods.

Events that the Sakamaki’s tend to blame and ‘punish’ her for despite her having no way to defend herself or overpower beings that have supernatural strength :|, and that really if they didn’t want it to happen they should’ve been keeping a better eye on her.

In closing, unlucky is an understatement. The only time things get better for her is post her love interest reciprocating at least some of her feelings and even then THINGS DONT GET THAT MUCH EASIER.

[ecotone99]

[TH][MF] THE FORK (part 1)

[TH][MF] The Fork

What did you end up at? Put it in the Comments.

THE FORK

Instructions

At every five hundred words(approx), you will be presented with two choices. This is a fork.

Once you have made your decision at a fork, never look back, however bad your path may be.

Any feeling towards the author should be directed towards yourself as you are shaping this story, not me.

Fork 0

As soon as she turned left to check the noise in the dark alley, she noticed it. It was a man, the silhouette of what seemed to be a man,trying to say something to her as he slithered on the ground. She decided to take a closer look and focussed on the man-snake hissing at her.As much as he tried , he couldn’t form the sentence as blood poured out of a big gash on his neck every time he tried. It was not a fine cut but rather a very jagged and gruesome one. The attacker wasn’t even kind enough to make the cut a straight one but had taken a few tries at his nape before making the cut on the jugular. She stared in horror as blood trickled along the crevices of the boxy tiles on the sidewalk towards her feet. The only light which helped her distinguish between rainwater from earlier in the day and fresh hot blood was a dim streetlamp in the corner. She jumped back and looked at him , who, raising a lone finger at her with eyes full of fiery survival rage. He looked like God in ‘The creation of Adam’ by Michaelangelo, only here god was slithering on the floor rather than sitting comfortably on a cloud of babies. She remembered this painting particularly as it was the last painting she had seen with her parents, when they had toured Italy on that fateful summer.

Her parents had been called to her school as she had scratched another kid on his cheeks. She couldn't exactly remember the details, but as an 8 year old, she was pretty scared of her parents being called to school. Even though her memories were blurry, she could remember the events which led to the tragic incident. They spoke to the headmistress for what seemed to be a very long time. On the car ride home, no one spoke a word in the car which was usually filled with banter. ‘Pack your bags honey’ her mother said to her. She remembered the distinct smell of warm milk which used to emanate from her mother. The next thing she knew, they were on a flight to Rome. ‘You thought we were punishing you right’ her father said to her as he kissed and tickled her. She giggled so hard that day, and that was the last time. Returning from Rome after a seven day trip, on the way to the airport their cab met with an accident. She was the only survivor. After a series of orphanages and some foster parents, she decided to have her way with London. When she was sixteen , she was arrested for possession of drugs. She had been clean ever since,built her life from scratch and now had a family of her own. She was a respected person in the community and this made her rethink on what she had to do with this situation now she was in. He made it to her feet, begging her to save him from the jaws of death.

A] She would report the incident and call an Ambulance.

B] She would walk away since this was not needed for her life right now.

[A]

Muttering a few abuses at herself and God, she stuck her hand in her purse and fumbled for her mobile. She moved away farther from the slithering guy, who seemed to have grown tired inching towards her, as she called the emergency number.

“Hello, I ..I.. I..need to report an attack”

“Yes can you describe the attack and your location”

“I’m near the Mackie’s Diner on Smith Street. A man has been stabbed on his neck and is bleeding profusely.Please send help immediately.”

“Help is on its way Ms..” the operator paused on the other end.

“Graves” she replied. It wasn’t her name and she couldn’t take chances.

“Ms.Graves please stay with the victim till the medics..” said the operator as Donna cut the call, removed her sim card and broke it in half. Donna King was her real name and she was determined to protect it at any cost from this unfortunate sitch. Taking one last look at the man she registered his features in her mind. She adjusted her red Cashmere wool scarf and continued walking along the sidewalk. She had taken a turn at the junction and didn’t turn back even when she heard the sound of ambulances arriving behind her. Pride rushed in her as a smile played on her lips. She had saved a life tonight without getting into a bedlam. She had a good day at work and she was in a particularly good mood until the ‘situation’ she had stumbled upon. Donna was not the typical thirty five year old. She was unmarried, she wasn’t planning on it, she didn’t hate kids but wasn’t interested in having some either. And courtesy of those decisions she had a pretty body, pretty enough she was assumed to be in her twenties by most people who met her. With men(and women) , thanks to her stunning looks she had more choice in her sexual life than Baskin Robbins had in ice creams. She worked out regularly, ate to her heart’s content and basically lived a happy life. As a secretary Donna had hectic days but she never took work home with her.

The time was a quarter past eleven when she walked into Granger’s Corner, her favorite bar. she perched herself on a stool by the bar table.

“Hey Jimmy!” she waved at the bartender.

“Welcome back Ms.King. One Brand Daisy coming right up” he said with a wide smile.

“Thanks Jimmy” she replied, shifting her gaze to her phone. She noticed someone else sitting at the bar table. Using her peripherals, she could judge it was a woman, a beautiful one too. Since she was in a good mood already, she decided to try her luck with this mystery woman. Moving to a stool next to her, she noticed the woman aimlessly stirring her drink.

“So you like your drink stirred huh” she broke the ice.

Startled by the intrusion of her privacy the stranger turned fast, but the once the words got to her mind, smiled.

“Easy guess” she replied , smiling. She placed her phone on the bar table. The phone chimed and that’s when Donna noticed the image on the phone. It was this woman and a man,warmly smiling at the screen, rubbing shoulders. What shocked Donna was, the man was the one whom she had seen in the alley way an hour ago.

AA] Donna walks away from the encounter AB] Donna proceeds with caution

[B]

She had a good day at work, a good life altogether and didn’t want to spoil it by getting into this situation. She wasn’t the purest of souls and didn’t mind if she had to carry this on her conscience. His eyes gleamed with desperation but she wasn’t in a mood for helping him. Donna King was her name and she was determined to protect it at any cost from this unfortunate sitch. Taking one last look at the man she registered his features in her mind, just in case. She adjusted her red cashmere wool scarf and continued walking along the sidewalk. She had taken a turn at the junction and didn’t turn back even when she heard the sound of the man churning out a last cry at her. Dread rushed in her as a frown played on her lips. She had abandoned a man tonight but saved herself from considerable ruckus. She had a good day at work and she was in a particularly good mood until the ‘situation’ she had stumbled upon. Donna was not the typical thirty five year old. She was unmarried, she wasn’t planning on it, she didn’t hate kids but wasn’t interested in having some either. And courtesy of those decisions she had a pretty body, pretty enough she was assumed to be in her twenties by most people. With men(and women) , thanks to her stunning looks she had more choice in her sexual life than Baskin Robbins had in ice creams. She worked out regularly, ate to her heart’s content and basically lived a happy life. As a secretary Donna had hectic days but she never took work home with her.

The time was a quarter past eleven, and given her sour mood she walked into Granger’s Corner, her favorite bar. she perched herself on a stool by the bar table.

“Hey Jimmy!” she waved at the new bartender .He had joined here three months ago.

“Welcome back Ms.King. One Brand Daisy coming right up” he said with a wide smile.

“Nah. I’m in a vodka mood tonight”

“Ooh..rough day huh”

“ Roller coaster ride it was” she replied, faking a smile.

Jimmy returned to making her drink and she shifted her gaze to her phone. She scrolled through the news and remembered the important meeting her boss had coming Friday, which was two days from now. This made her realise she would have to work even harder the next two days, making her head bend a little more towards her phone. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see a good looking lady

“Hi. I am Ginny. Seems like you need someone to talk to”

Usually she was the one who approached others but this time she welcomed this change.

“Yeah.. work stuff” she replied, straightening her back and adjusting her hair. The next half hour moved like a breeze. She had fun with this stranger who made her laugh , even giggle amidst several vodka shots. She started to feel the tingly itch between her legs, which was what she had intended to take care of before Mr.Bloody-neck came into her life. Now that her mood was revived, she decided to pursue it.

“Shall we go to my place?” Ginny asked.

“Okay” she replied, a bit too quickly.

After sessions of intense lovemaking, they finally stopped at sometime near 2 o clock. Ginny went to the loo and Donna remembered she had to get to work early the next day. She started dressing up, with a smile on her face. However bad her night had been earlier, it had ended in a much better fashion. As she put on her jeans she noticed Ginny’s phone ring. That’s when she noticed the face on the caller ID. Sweat trickled down her spine as it was a familiar face, the face of the man whom she had abandoned earlier.

Fork 4

BA] She rushes out of that place BB] She decides to stay and investigate

[AA]

Just when she thought the night couldn’t get any worse, this new twist in the tale put her out of sync. She dug into her purse and put a crumpled bill on the bar table.

“Umm.. I have to go.. Sorry” she said as she stepped down from the stool.

“Jimmy!” she called and pointed to the dollar bill. She nearly sprinted out of the place but then controlled her gait. ‘Is this some kind of joke’ she muttered to herself as she pushed the bar door which was supposed to be pulled. The chime of the bell above the bar door , which she enjoyed most days, irritated her beyond words. She continued to walk home, maintaining her speed .Donna remembered putting her phone in her bag. She continued walking away trying to compose herself. She turned every ten seconds to make sure no one was following her until she reached her apartment. During her time in the Juvie system, she used to share the room with another girl. Her name was Mary and Donna clearly remembered what she was in for. Mary was from a well off family with an elite background. She was homeschooled and wasn’t exposed much to the real world, making her a ‘very’ nervous girl. Even at nights, Mary used to turn on lights every two hours to check whether Donna was really asleep. One fine night, Mary had gone for a birthday party , one of the very few times she was let out of the house. Whilst returning, her driver had gone missing so instead of waiting , she decided to walk a little bit, trying to find him. On Mary’s account, she says that ‘the creepy homeless guy’ was following her and was about to rape her, but the state prosecutors and the witnesses were pretty sure that he was just minding his business. Mary had shot him twice in the stomach with the Glock her father had given her ‘just-in-case’. Donna felt what Mary must have felt all those years ago- a nervous breakdown. Mary was the first girl Donna had kissed but surprisingly that never came to her thought as she reacted to every small moving shadow. A flood of relief rushed through her as she keyed in the alarm code. She sank on the couch and stared at the ceiling trying to remember the events of the night. She was stuck in a trance when she heard the bell ringing. Not many people came to her place and no one came at midnight. She tiptoed to the alarm system and turned on the camera. Her fears came true when she noticed the woman from the bar standing at the door. Trying not to act startled she spoke through the mic

“Yeah.. who is it?”

“ Hey it’s me ...from the bar. You left your purse back there” she replied waving the purse into the camera. Donna grabbed her bag and stuck her hand in it, hoping her fingers would meet the very familiar leather but in vain. Her purse was not in there.She knew that the ID in the purse must have led the stranger here. “Hi.. thank you. Can you leave it at the doorstep? I'm sorry but thank you very much” she said. “Really?.. Can I atleast come in for some water?” said the visibly pissed woman as she placed the purse on the floor. Donna

Fork 5

AAA] She decides to risk it AAB] She sends her away

[AB]

Just when she thought the night couldn’t get any worse, this new twist in the tale put her out of sync. She wanted to run out of the bar ,go home, key in her door alarm code and sleep. But something in her, an instinct to find out where this ends made her stay

“Is that your husband?” she asked with a playfully raised eyebrow. “Ah no, it is my boss” she replied, shoving the phone back into her pocket. “What kind of boss calls at 11 in the night?” “He’s a nice boss actually. I don’t know why he’s calling but I won’t pick it up” she replied grinning, meeting Donna’s eyes. “That’s very brave. I’m sorry I am Donna” she said, lending her hand. “Ginny” Now she felt riskier than ever. She decided to wing it as she wanted this conundrum to end. “So.. Ginny what will you do If I told you I found your boss stabbed in an alley two streets away from here. I called an ambulance for him.” “Wait is this some kind of joke?” “Was he wearing a brown jacket today and were you in his recent calls list?” Donna asked with confidence. “Yes..on both counts” she replied as she got down from the stool. “Then I guess it’s the paramedics calling you from his phone. You need to answer it” she said. “Oh my God.” Ginny said as she called her boss. As suspected it was the hospital and they wanted someone at the hospital by his side. Ginny got down from the stool and started to leave. “You need to go? What about his wife or girlfriend” “He is divorced.. And single. I will inform his mother” she said. After giving some thought she said “Thanks for saving his life. He is a good man” Donna felt more proud than ever. “This is too much to ask.. can you come with me to the hospital. I don’t want to drive there alone..I am a bit drunk. I will drop you back home once I do the formalities. His mother will be there in an hour” Surprised by the invite, she thought of it. Her boss had an important meeting on Friday, which meant two more hectic days for her. She decided to go with Ginny, hoping she would get Ginny on her bed when they returned. “Ok let’s go” Donna said. The roads were empty and the hospital was on the other side of the city.Donna drove carefully, avoiding speeding or jumping signals. In the darkness, they noticed someone asking for a lift. When the headlights hit the person, they saw it was a ugly looking homeless guy. “Don’t stop the car,” Ginny said, making a face of disgust. Now she was already in a good mood, in a mood for charity to be precise. This man seemed like he needed to get somewhere urgently. Though she wanted to help him out, it was Ginny’s car.

Fork 6

ABA] Donna heeds to Ginny’s words and drives away ABB] She stops the car to help the man

[BA]

She jumped into her jeans and put on her shirt quicker than ever. Shoving her bra,phone and purse frantically in her bag, she heard the flush of Ginny’s bathroom go. Grabbing her heels, she ran out the door, into the elevator and to the street where she heaved a sigh of relief. Donna realised she had come here in Ginny’s car and now she had to grab a cab back home. Not that she was afraid of midnight cab rides, she was worried that all the adrenaline from the night wouldn’t let her sleep eventually affecting her work the next day. During her juvie years, there was a Yoga trainer who used to frequent the juvie school. He used to teach them breathing exercises for calming themselves if they got angry or scared, which was most the inmates’ problem. Ironically, most of them got angry at the instructor for calling them ‘angry’ kids and walked away. Donna did not want to be with them so she chose to attend these yoga classes instead. Surprisingly,on this fateful night, she found herself breathing in the rhythm the instructor had taught her 19 years ago. She tried booking a cab ride but to her dismay, no cabs were in her area. She started wondering if this was payback for leaving the man to die earlier in the night. She started walking towards her home, which was a good 2 kms from where she was. She turned every few seconds to make sure Ginny wasn’t following her. The chill in the air, moving shadows and eerie silence added to her fears.After walking for a few minutes, she started waving her hand at cars hoping she would get a lift. After three of four tries, a mini-truck stopped for her.

In the darkness, she could only make the silhouette of the man driving it.

“Hi there. Can you drop me by Hayshaw street. It’s really late and I’m not getting any cabs.”

“Oh I would love to help, Miss…” replied a gruff voice, with more air than voice in it. A passing car’s light lit his face for a fleeting moment when he said “Only if you hadn’t left me to die”. She noticed blood spurting out of his neck with every word he spoke while she froze in shock. She tried screaming , calling out for help but neither her throat nor her tongue came to her rescue. He grinned with his blood stained teeth and added “Goodnight Ms.King” as he drove away. She grabbed a lamp post and countered her failing legs. As much as she wanted to run all the way home, her traumatised brain wouldn’t send the necessary signals. Another car came to a halting stop near her, from which a familiar voice called out to her.

“Ms.King..Ms.King do you need a ride?”

It was Jimmy the bartender. The happenings of the night sucked out any belief she had for reality so she cautiously checked whether it really was JImmy.

“Thanks Jimmy. You are a lifesaver” she said, climbing into the car.

“What happened? Last I saw you went home with that new lady”

“Nothing.. Can we not talk about it?” she said slowly

“Ah..sure Ms.King. Where should I drop you?”

“Hayshaw street”

For the next fifteen minutes, they didn’t speak a word. She closed her eyes and took in huge breaths, trying to calm herself. She hears someone calling her from far away, only to realise the car had stopped and Jimmy was calling her.

“Ms.King I am going to drop off this package at my friend’s place. Is it okay with you? Are you okay staying here alone or you can come with me. It will just take a minute” he said, pointing to a house.

Fork 7

BAA]She goes with him BAB] She decides to stay in the car.

[BB]

Though horrified, she couldn’t bear the anxiety of not knowing what was happening around her. Steeling her nerves, she decided to do things differently. Stripping down naked, she entered into the sheets and began feigning sleep. Ginny came back to bed and snuggled next to her.

“Hi there,” Donna said warmly. Arching her back, she rubbed against Ginny’s thighs.

“You are insatiable” Ginny replied as she traced her fingers down Donna’s belly. GIving out a soft moan, Donna shifted positions, with her on top, straddling Ginny. In the blink of an eye, she sprayed the pepper spray into GInny’s eyes and placed a letter opener on her neck. She had snuck these under the pillow earlier.

“Don’t move. Don’t scream. Now tell me .. what do you want?”

“What?? I don’t understand. What are you doing Donna??”

“Don’t play with me. I have been in jail earlier and I don’t mind going back. Cut the shit and tell what you have been planning. And who is the guy who called you at the bar?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about”

Donna sprayed more pepper into her eyes, sending her screaming.

“Okay..okay.. We were sent to kill you. He got mugged and I was backup” she sputtered.

“What..why me??”

“You are the one of the persons who can access the Defense minister’s office. We needed your eye and thumbprint to bypass security systems”

Donna was secretary to a senior diplomat at the Defense department. She had access to several classified parts of the building. On Friday, the Defense minister was introducing an important bill which would significantly reduce Arms trade in the country.

“Who else is out there for me?”

“I don’t know. We were just given information on a need to know basis. I don’t even know why they want your eyeball for fuck’s sake”

“Don’t lie to me. I have already called the cops and they will be here any minute”

“I am not lying. Please don’t hurt me. I was paid 5000 pounds just to lure you here.”

“Just to lure me?” “Yes. They said they would come to collect you at 4 in the morning. And it is useless if you go to the police. I know nothing that would help you find the guys planning this”.Tying her up with bedsheets, she dressed up and sat in a chair. She could either call the cops or she could investigate this on her own.

Fork 8

BBA] She decides to investigate further BBB] She decided to call the cops

Continued in part 2

submitted by /u/BagOfBonezzzzzz [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2FLFxNO

[panagapnhs]

02> White Rajah’s price for the Brunei throne

By Dr. B. A. Hussainmiya

Sultan Hashim Jalilul Alam refused to give up Brunei or abandon his dynasty, although the country suffered abuses even after the so-called British Protection under the 1888 Treaty.

OUR COUNTRY … Schoolgirls happily waving the Brunei flag. Brunei almost ceased to exist as a sovereign entity early last century, but for the foresight of Sultan Hashim.

Part II (Why did Brunei accept British Protection in 1906?)

In the wake of recurrent disturbances in the Tutong District in 1901, time had come for the British Foreign Office for resolute action as to the future of Brunei. It was to be nothing but a final act, a fait accompli, for dismembering the sultanate. Rajah Brooke in the neighbouring Sarawak was waiting in the wings for the windfall.

Bad feed back on Brunei engineered by pro-Brooke sources flowed ceaselessly into the British circles. First, the Brunei people in the rebellious districts of Belait and Tutong were allegedly have opted for Sarawak Rajah rule, because it was portrayed as a better government and not burdening the people with undue taxation. Second, the truncated Brunei, after the loss of Limbang in March 1890, was seen as a barren and wasteland to be better managed by the Sarawak Rajah. Third, complaints by a couple of thriving Chinese shop keepers/money lenders (registered in Labuan as the British subjects) operating in Brunei town about indiscretion by some members of the palace were taken seriously to prove that Brunei was not the safe place for free trading. Fourth, Brunei was hopelessly becoming bankrupt with speculators scrambling to grab concessions, monopolies, mortgages and rights for taxation from the hapless royal family. Fifth, a cynical view spread as if Sultan Hashim Jalilul Alam and his ministers were expecting better price for the surrender of Brunei than the sum offered to them by the Rajah Brooke. Lastly, the Sultan Hashim was suspected of coveting other foreign powers to the detriment of the British interest and so on.

Most of these were exaggerated accusations no doubt. In fact another British official – impartial to the bone – was soon to refute these misconceptions that will be discussed in the next part of this series.

But justice was always on the side of the Brunei Sultan. No one seemed to have appreciated the deep wounds he was nursing in his mind as a proud scion of the ancient Brunei kingdom. His faith in the British fair play was shaking all the while. True, his forefathers had made the carnal mistake of hiring a foreigner – James Brooke – to manage part of their outlying province of Kuching in the throes of a rebellion as early as 1841. But the last remnants of Brunei territory had to be saved notwithstanding the loss of the other territories due to the fault of the palace policies. Since the unjustified annexation of Limbang, the rice bowl of Brunei, Sultan Hashim was disinclined to negotiate any land deals.

He and his people faced extreme hardship in living. Economic opportunities in the State, if any, had been wiped out. For instance, almost all the four sago factories in Brunei had been closed down by 1904 as the trade shifted from Limbang to Kuching. Only a small cutch factory was operating on the bank of the Kampong Ayer, and its European manager, Edmund Roberts commanded gratitude from the Sultan for supplying wooden planks to repair the steps of his rickety palace. The manager, who was secretly conspiring behind the back of the Sultan not only became his adviser, but also even given a seat in the newly created State Council!

Under a calamitous situation, the Sultan adamantly refused to give up country or abandon his dynasty. On the other hand, if Brunei suffered abuses even after the so called British Protection under the 1888 Treaty blame fell largely on Britain as highlighted by Sultan Hashim’s letter in 1904 to the British monarch King Edward VII about the prejudiced attitude of the British Consuls, especially G. Hewett, a staunch Brooke supporter who wanted to see the end of Brunei. He advocated strongly the Sarawak option and met the sultan in 1902/03 to work out the surrender of the remaining Brunei territories for fixed sums to be paid by Brooke to the Sultan and to his Minister.

The deal worked out something like this; the Sultan to receive $12,000, and the Pengiran Bendahara and Pengiran Pemancha $6,000 each, half of these amounts being paid to their descendants after their deaths. The Sultan and the remaining two Wazirs were to retain their honours and titles and would be entitled to annual pensions. It must be remembered that Brooke did not settle the cession money of $6,000 for Limbang, partly because the Sultan refused to accept it, and partly because Brooke was already deducting monies owed by the palace to some debtors in his territory. It became more than clear money was not the issue for the Sultan to give up his beloved country.

Consul Hewett resorted to unauthorised gunboat diplomacy, but Sultan Hashim stood the ground.

In a final bid to transfer Brunei to Sarawak ownership, the London Foreign office suggested to the Rajah Brooke to raise the offer of compensation to the Brunei palace and to settle the outstanding cession money for the Limbang territory. An overconfident Brooke haughtily replied that Sarawak’s revenues could not afford any increase in the offer he had already made for the country. This ended in the recall of the prejudiced and ill-behaved British Consul Hewett to London in 1904.

At last Sultan Hashim’s intransigence paid off in preserving his dynasty and his country. He was not without supporters in the British circle. Previously C. P. Lucas, an under-secretary of state in the British Colonial Office minuted his disapproval of the Sarawak option, and instead recommended the installation of a British Resident to oversee Brunei administration.

The Governor of British North Borneo, E. W. Birch, a seconded officer from the Malayan service made the similar suggestion.

Meanwhile, The Straits Times had highlighted the accusations that the Government planned to hand over Brunei to Sarawak. And, Consul Hewett in 1903 had inadvertently drawn the British attention to the presence of oil in Brunei, and that made the officials show further interest in Brunei. Thus a new approach was to be made to clear the confusion. The British Government needed another urgent study about the Brunei question. The Malayan establishment undertook to send their High Commissioner to the Malay States/Governor of Singapore to proceed to Brunei.

Sir Frank Swettenham was earmarked but he was due to go on retirement and hence could not undertake the trip in 1902. But he advised the HM Government in August 1903: “I am more inclined to advise you to leave Brunei alone, but to instruct the (British) Consul to live in Brunei (instead of Labuan) and to endeavour to secure the sympathies of the Sultan and his people and give them good advice, being strictly impartial in all his dealings.”

The next officer to visit Brunei from the British Malaya in 1904 was going to change the history of Brunei by writing a most fair report that sealed the British approach finally in preserving the dynasty of Sultan Hashim.

TO BE CONTINUED

(The writer is an Associate Professor of History at Universiti Brunei Darussalam. He can be contacted by e-mail: hmiya@fass.ubd.edu.bn)

[flyingcarpettours]

Aswan Tours

If you are in Egypt and looking for the best tours in the famous cities of Egypt, you have to put our Aswan Tours as a priority because Aswan is one of the most beautiful cities in Egypt that contains a great mixture between the fabulous nature and the archaeological sites. Choosing from our tours allows you to explore the famous landmarks located in the city such as Philae Temple and the Unfinished Obelisk and get the chance to visit Edfu and Kom Ombo Temples or get a memorable tour to visit Abu Simbel Temple.

Amuse yourself and experience our Aswan Dam, Philae Temple, and Unfinished Obelisk Tour which covers all the famous Attractions in Aswan. In the first you will visit the High Dam which is considered the greatest achievement in the modern history of Egypt that was built in 1960 to protect the country from the Nile flooding. Then you will visit the great Roman temple, known as Philae Temple with our Tours in Aswan which is considered the main attraction in the city and built during the Roman period and dedicated to Isis the Egyptian goddess, it contains many ancient Egyptian sanctuaries and shrines as it was built during the Ptolemy’s dynasty, stare at the amazement of The Kiosk of Trajan, feel ravishing while explore the Chapel of Osiris. At the end of your tour you will explore the Unfinished Obelisk which reflects the magnificent of stone-working techniques at ancient Egyptian, supposed to be the biggest part of Egyptian masonry but was most probably abandoned when some cracks appeared in the rock during its construction, and more with Aswan Day Tours.

Find out more interesting information about Philae Temple with our Philae Temple Sound and Light Show and get a journey back in time to the days of the Ancient Egyptian gods and kings and know more information about this fabulous temple that was transferred stone by stone from Philea Island to Egilica Island because of the Nile flooding, it was a massive project, that took over 9 years to be accomplished. Amuse your eyes with our Aswan Day Trips and watch the beauty of the colorful houses of the Nubian People while trying our Nubian Village Tour, touch the hospitality and the kindness of the Nubians, walk throw the charming streets and enjoy a trip by felucca and know more about Elephantine Island.

Start unforgettable Aswan Excursions with Flying Carpet Tours and get amazing adventure while visiting Kom Ombo to visit the double shared temple of Kom Ombo which dedicated to the God Sobek and The Elder Hours, it was built during the period from 205 till 180 BC in the ruling period of King Ptolemy V, and considered one of the most beautiful temples in the world. Proceed to visit Edfu Temple which was dedicated to the god Hours and Consider as the second huge temple after Karnak Temple. Feast your eyes watching wonderful decorations for the myth of conflict which was between Hours; the falcon god and his Uncle Seth the god of the Evil. The Temple was built on the reign of Ptolemy III and finished under the reign of Ptolemy IV. Construction of this temple starts approximately in 237 BC, and lasted for circa 180 years, until 57 BC, and more with Kom Ombo and Edfu Temple Tours from Aswan.

Unleash your inner with our Tours from Aswan and build a wonderful memory while trying our Abu Simbel Tour from Aswan by Van to explore the largest and mysterious construction in Egyptian History, known as Abu Simbel Temple which contains two temples; Temple of Queen Nefertari and the other one is Temple of Ramsses II, carved into a mountainside and built by pharaoh Ramesses II (1303-1213 B.C). The Temple of Abu Simbel was dedicated to god Amon Ra, Harmakis and Ptah. Today visitors see the reconstructed temples now relocated on higher ground (60 meters directly above their earlier position) after the heroic international rescue efforts to save these treasures from Lake Nasser. You can also choose to visit the temple throw our Abu Simbel Tour from Aswan by Plane.

Visit Aswan and try our amazing itineraries.

Aswan Dam, Philae Temple and Unfinished Obelisk Tour

Itinerary

Flying Carpet Tours guide will escort you to an astonishing trip to beguile your eyes with the High Dam and its smart engineering, it was built in 1960, to protect Egypt from the annual flooding of the Nile, then Go on a fancy tour to the Unfinished Obelisk, which shows the techniques used by the ancient Egyptians to cut obelisks, it also was constructed by Queen Hatshepsut, one of the rulers of the 18th dynasty and the royal wife of king Tuthmosis II. As she was the owner of Al Deir El-Bahari Temple in the eastern bank of Luxor. Also there is an opinion said that it belongs to Queen Nefertiti. Tour also includes a visit to the majestic Philae Temple, which was built on the honor of goddess Isis the chief deity of the island, finally Flying Carpet Tours guide will escort you back to your hotel in Aswan.

Including

Pick up and drop off to your hotel in Aswan

Excursion to Aswan Dam, Unfinished Obelisk, and Philae Temple as mentioned at the above program

Entrance fees to the above mentioned sites

English speaking guide to the sites mentioned above

Bottle of Mineral Water during the Excursion

All transfers by air-conditioned Van

All service charges and taxes

Excluding

Visa to Egypt

Any optional tours required

Tipping

Notes:

Prices are quoted per person in U.S. American Dollars

Abu Simbel Tour from Aswan by Van

Itinerary

Today your dreams will come true, once you will visit the astonishing Temples of Abu Simbel " Ramses the second Temple and Temple of Nefertari" breakfast box will be prepared at your hotel, then at 03:00 am., Flying Carpet Tours Guide will escort you by air-conditioned van to the magnificent Temple of Abu Simbel, Wander at The two Temples of Abu Simbel, which have a unique style, as They reflect the glory and grandeur of the new Kingdom, Unfortunately these special Temples were suffering from the Nile flooding, consequently the Egyptian government and UNESCO decided to co-operate in order to save these temples from sinking, explore the splendor of Ramses II Temple, and then discover the fascinating cultural diversity of Nefertari Temple, Finally Flying Carpet Tours  guide will escort you back to your hotel in Aswan.

Including

Pick up and drop off to your hotel in Aswan

Air-conditioned van Aswan / Abu simbel / Aswan

Excursion to Abu simbel Temple as mentioned at the above program

Entrance fees to the above mentioned sites

English speaking guide in Abu simbel

Bottle of Mineral Water during the Excursion

All transfers by air-conditioned Van

All service charges and taxes

Excluding

Visa to Egypt

Any optional tours required

Tipping

Notes:

Prices are quotes per person in U.S. American dollars

For more Things to do in Aswan.

Website: www.flyingcarpettours.com

Email: sales@flyingcarpettours.com

[rebeccahpedersen]

Charging “Entry-Fees” For Pre-Construction Units?

TorontoRealtyBlog

Maybe I didn’t need a question-mark at the end of that title.  An exclamation mark may have been more appropriate.

But part of me just can not believe that this is going on.

At the same time, part of me had expected it all along.

RECO sent out an email to its 100,000++ members on Wednesday, which as usual, is a day late, and without any real “teeth.”  Let’s have a look at their bulletin, and discuss what’s going on in the pre-construction industry…

Oh wow.

One look at that velvet rope, and I’m reminded just how much I love being married…

Back in my youth, before online dating/judgement apps, when people used to naively go out in search of meeting other human beings, I did frequent the odd nightclub.

And toward the end, I hated every minute of it.

It began as a love affair, however.  I started going to downtown Toronto nightclubs when I turned 19, and when I was in my tight-shirt, silver-chain, hoop-earring phase, and when Junior Jack, DJ Jean, and DJ Jurgen were pumping beats.

It wasn’t so much the nightclubs I liked, but rather the maneuvering within.

I couldn’t care less where I was, and who I was with, but rather I liked the challenge of trying to finesse my way in to whatever VIP area, rooftop patio, or members-only space existed.

I was pretty good at it.

Actually, that’s me being modest.  I was a goddam champion.  I could walk inside a nightclub, watch the managers, waitresses, bartenders, doormen, and the clientele, figure out who was who, and come up with a con on the spot.  By the time I was 20, I could con my way into any club without waiting in line, and then scheme my way into their “VIP” area, which evidently, was exactly the same as the rest of the club.

But it didn’t matter.  I was barely an adult, and I loved playing the “game” against both the stakeholders in the establishment, and the masses who were competing against me with the same goals of skipping lines, and going places once inside.

That lasted for a couple of years.

Fast-forward a full decade, and I had completely lost the taste for it, and simply resorted to paying bouncers and doormen to let me go where I wanted.

By the time I had met my now-wife, and we were dating, I absolutely hated going “out.”

There’s a seven-year age gap between Jenna and I, so when was 30-years-old and wanted to stay home on Friday and Saturday nights, she was 23-years-old and wanted to go out. (thankfully now we’re 37 and 30, and we are both old curmudgeons)

I became so cynical, so salty, and so morose, that I couldn’t handle the lineups, the doormen, and the whole process.

I couldn’t stand watching some fingerless-glove-wearing, below-average-intelligence, overweight slouch playing God for 4-hours on Saturday night.  And I as much as told them that, on several occasions.  I couldn’t stand watching the doorman ask a group, “How many are you?” and if the group said, “five,” he would wait a few seconds, pretend to think, and say, “I can only take four.”

It wasn’t unusual for me to hear this, and shout, “That’s the dumbest F****** thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard a lot of dumb things,” which would then cause the doorman to tell me to leave, which was great, because I just wanted to get a slice of pizza and go home.  My wife was really, really mad at me for making a scene like that once…

But the whole process bothered me to no end.

And the main reason was because I knew how the rouse worked, and I hated being a pawn.

The lineup outside the club was only there to make the club look busy.

Bouncers would line people up, even though the club was at 40% capacity, and then take them in very small groups, every five minutes.

The key to making people want something, is to make it seem unique, rare, and worthy.

How else do you get somebody to pay $350 for a $30 bottle of booze?  Put them in a “special” area, and give them the privilege to subject themselves to a 1000% markup.

I could go on, but I’ve been on this rant before.  Let me see if I can find an epic rant from a few years ago…………..ah, yes, HERE.  This is from way back in 2010.  King West condos “one day” selling for $700 per square foot, you say?  Nah, that’ll never happen!

In any event, you might be wondering “What does this have to do with pre-construction condo sales,” or you might have already figured it out.

The VIP’s, the velvet ropes, and alas, the greasing of doormen!

I’ve been comparing nightclubs to pre-construction sales centres for the better part of a decade, and now the rest of real estate has finally clued in!

On Wednesday, RECO emailed every licensed agent in the province of Ontario with the following bulletin:

  Charging “Entry Fees” For Pre-Construction Units

The Real Estate Council of Ontario (RECO) has become aware of a potentially unlawful practice regarding pre-construction real estate. It is being alleged that some registrants may be charging “entry fees” or “admission fees” to prospective buyers of pre-sale homes.

These fees supposedly give buyers access to purchase properties before they are available to the public or front-of-the-line status. Media reports have also stated that registrants have asked for cash payments and refused to issue receipts. They may also be sharing the proceeds with the developer’s staff.

There are specific regulations regarding how registrants accept funds from consumers:

Full Disclosure – A document must be presented to potential buyers regarding any funds collected. The document must spell out:

what those funds are for;

how the funds are to be handled;

how the funds will be distributed, such as toward the deposit on a property; and

the conditions for the return of the funds if the consumer does not decide to make a purchase.

Under the Code of Ethics, you are obligated to treat every person you deal with in the course of a trade fairly, honestly and with integrity. And you must promote and protect the best interests of your clients. With that in mind, if a consumer pays an “entry fee” and does not purchase a unit, it is expected that the fee will be returned to the customer.

The buyer should also receive a receipt for any funds they provide.

Trust Accounts – All money provided by a buyer to a registrant must be forwarded to their brokerage. That money must be held in the brokerage’s trust account until such time that it is to be disbursed appropriately.

Seller Permission – “Entry fees” can’t be requested or accepted unless the registrant has received explicit consent of the seller of the property to do so.

It would be permissible to accept certain entry fees, only if the registrant complies with the rules listed above. If you are aware of a registrant breaching these rules, please file a complaint with RECO. If you suspect that employees of builders are improperly requesting or accepting fees without proper disclosure to buyers, you should inform Tarion, the regulator of home builders in the province.

Consumers have the right to know what they are paying for, and what will happen with their money. Transparency and upfront documentation are key to remaining in compliance with the regulations.

Media reports.

Really?

That is how RECO is getting its information?

This is pathetic.

RECO is pathetic.

They make up rules as they go along, honestly.

Crap like this:

“With that in mind, if a consumer pays an “entry fee” and does not purchase a unit, it is expected that the fee will be returned to the customer.”

Says who?  And where?

Where is this written?  I’ll tell you where: nowhere.

This is literally RECO making this up on the spot.

And how about this:

“If you are aware of a registrant breaching these rules, please file a complaint with RECO”

Awesome.

So RECO isn’t going to do anything to regulate, oversee, change, monitor, lead, guide, et al.  They simply want real estate agents to rat each other out, and they’ll take it from there.

In any event, hammering on RECO wasn’t the point of this blog.

The point, is that the pre-construction “game” is out of control.

Paying to get inside the nightclub sales centre ahead of the rest of the pack?  I’ve heard that one before!

With real estate in Toronto as hot as it’s been, and with people willing to blindly purchase pre-construction condos by submitting “offer sheets” for virtually every model suite in the building, it’s no surprise that developers, and their agents, are reverting to these gimmicks.

A colleague of mine who works for Re/Max told me that one of his clients wanted to purchase a pre-construction condo in a particular development.

He called the sales centre, and spoke to the in-house agent, who told him, “We’re completely sold out.”

Five minutes later, my colleague’s buyer-client called the same in-house agent, who told him, “We have twenty-eight units left,” and asked him to set up an appointment.

My colleague called back, and once again, was told that they were sold out.

This is the game that’s being played.

And perhaps we could spin this off to another blog topic, but condo developers are hand-picking the agents they want to work with, and calling them “VIP’s,” when in reality, these agents are simply the ones who will bring their buyers into the sales centre, working in the best interests of the developer, and not providing any real representation.

Think about it: with 40-50% of all pre-construction condo sales falling through during the automatic “10 day cooling off period,” the developer wants the buyer to be represented by an agent who will do everything to ensure that the deal doesn’t fall through.

A typical buyer-agent would insist that the buyer have a lawyer review the thick package of documents that accompanies a pre-construction condo sale.  I spoke to one particular buyer this week, who is absolutely buried in a building on York Street, who said, “My agent told me that the lawyer’s review was a waste of money.”

The poor girl.  Her closing costs were almost 20% of the purchase price.

It’s clear to me that not all, but many of Toronto’s condo developers are only working with a select group of pre-construction condo “experts,” who have sold their soul to the builder community.

I’ve heard from countless buyer-agents that they can’t get in the door, metaphorically or literally, of new condo developments, and that the buyers have to go with the “VIP’s” and “experts.”

And now the media, and RECO, are picking up on the fact that people are greasing doormen paying agents to get inside ahead of the crowd.

I’d love to hear from the “pre-construction experts” on this one.  Sell ten units in a development, win a Mercedes, eh?  Yup, you’re definitely working in the best interest of your buyer!

Oh boy.  I need a drink.

If only I could get into the nightclub.  It’s cold outside, and I didn’t wear a jacket because I’m too cheap to pay for coat-check…

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