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invisiblewashboard · 4 months

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Small Child’s Thoughts on “Helm’s Deep”

Sounds like there are way too many bad guys.

Are they happy because the king is there? Hm. Because the king will help them fight the bad guys? I feel happy when my dad comes home because he helps me fight my sisters.

I think you should maybe not listen to someone named Wormtongue. But maybe it’s not his fault that he’s named that. Maybe his mom and dad just didn’t like him.

Mom, can I have a horn to make horn blasts with? (No.) But I would only use for good things, like to tell you if there was danger!

The van? If they have vans they can have trains. (No, no, Small Child, that means “vanguard.”) Hm. That is boring. They should have a van instead.

Gimli wants to kill lots of orcs and that is very good. I like that.

Hundreds and hundreds more bad guys is not a good thing.

Lightning plus bad guys is going to equal a very bad time for everyone.

I just do not really know what is happening. You are reading lots of words but I am confused. I only know there are orcs and lightning.

Why did Legolas spend all his arrows? (Because that’s what happens in a battle.) Well, he should have just brought more with him.

I tried to jump off a wall once. And you told me it was bad. But Gimli did it and you said it was good.

Wow! 21 is a lot of orcs! Good job, Gimli. You’re doing very good work!

Two dozen? (A dozen is 12, so how many is two dozen?) Oh, I see. 24! Legolas is winning now. Who is going to get more points? I do not want to wait to find out, I would just like you to tell me now. (Just be patient! You will find out soon enough.)

How many orcs did Aragorn kill? (I don’t know, I don’t think he is playing the game with Legolas and Gimli.) Why? He should play and not ruin the fun.

So, Mama? Blasting fire is like a bomb, right? Like a big explosion? I think if they have that, they can maybe have trains soon. Trains would make things easier because they could go places fast.

Saying his spear was long seems just so unnecessary. Spears are long. That is why they are spears and not just little stumpy stabbers.

Is that Gandalf the White Rider? Good. I think things will be okay now if he is here.

Hey Mom? You told me that if I was patient I would find out who got more points. But you stopped reading and I still do not know.

#small child's thoughts #lord of the rings #lotr #jrr tolkien #the two towers #read aloud #first read through #little stumpy stabbers #lots of train talk tonight #seriously I had to filter out so much train talk

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dipperscavern · 11 days

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secondincommand!reader getting hurt shielding robb during battle.. rubbing my hands & feet together like a fly on the wall

word count: 1.4k.. how to say oopsie in 14 different languages

robb stark x f!secondincommand!reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜.・。.・゜✭・.

war was unpredictable. anything could happen, nothing was guaranteed — except one thing. war was bloody.

he hated every time you fought with him. robb knew why you did, of course. how can you command men you won’t even fight for? why should they listen to someone who’s afraid to get their hands dirty?

you weren’t budging, & even though you knew they’d still follow you if you didn’t fight, robb didn’t, and it worked in your favor anyways. robb could barely focus when fighting, knowing you were out there, but he was the king. he had to stand strong & lead by example, so he did. & things went well enough.

until they didn’t.

robb always led the vanguard, constantly put wherever the fighting was thickest. you were usually commanding the archers, being better with a bow than you were with a sword. though skilled with both, you didn’t mind being with the archers, & theon sometimes joined you. he’d either fight beside robb or help out with the archers, and you didn’t mind the help.

the battle had gone as smoothly as battle could go so far, until you broke from the archers & took an arrow for robb.

luckily, the archer wasn’t a great shot, the arrow lodging in your upper thigh. but to robb, it didn’t matter where it settled — you were hurt.

the man who shot you was quickly cut down, & robb caught you from falling. his head swam, vision going fuzzy from the thought of you being hurt. he would’ve paused the whole goddamn war right then and there, if theon didnt wrap your arm around his shoulder and promise to get you to the medic tent.

he wanted to keep you with him, take you there himself, but theon argued-

“there’s still fighting to be done!”

& robb knew he was right. with a silent prayer to the old gods, he mounted once more, ignoring the pain in his chest as he drew his sword.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

robb’s head was swimming, filled with thoughts of only you. as soon as the fighting was done, he set off to find you. nothing could stop him, & anyone who was in his way knew to get the fuck out of it. he spotted theon escorting you back to you & his shared tent, one of your arms slinked around his shoulders. you had a bandage wrapped around your upper thigh, spots of blood showing through the fabric as you hobbled as best you could.

he ran over, entering the tent just as theon was gently setting you down on one of the chairs inside.

“thanks, theon-“

“what in seven hells was that? hm?”

you & theon’s heads turned to look at him, both of you caught by surprise at his tone. you swallowed, looking at theon — a silent plea to leave before robb’s anger turned to him. he looked at you both, before turning & walking out.

“that was me-“

“almost getting killed?”

“protecting my king.”

robb just blinks, looking at you for a second. he can’t understand how you aren’t as utterly distraught as he felt in that moment, catching you in his arms as you fell.

“y’can’t just do that! just- take arrows whenever you feel like it!”

this is the first time robb has yelled at you. ever. you know he doesn’t mean it — or at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself, to keep the tears at bay.

“i would do it again.”

robb huffs out a laugh, turning around and looking at the floor, before looking at you once more.

“this is war, okay? i don’t have time to watch you while ‘m puttin’ a sword through a man’s belly!”

“then don’t?!”

“looks like i have to!” he says, motioning to the bandage on your thigh.

you sigh, “this is war, robb. people get hurt.”

he only shakes his head.

“gods- i shouldn’t have to watch over you like a child. y’should be better than that..” he says, turning & leaving you alone in the tent.

and for once, you’re glad robb leaves. the tears rolling down your cheeks wouldve embarrassed you if he saw.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

you weren’t mad at him. by rights, you should be, & if you were, you knew nobody would blame you — but you weren’t.

you had prided yourself on being the person to fix everything. you were always the solution, not the problem. you hated the shame you felt, and even though you’d take the arrow for robb a hundred times more, you hated when he was mad at you.

still, you knew robb would come to you when he was ready. he rarely let his emotions get the best of him, & you knew how much stress he was under. you sat at the table, maps & books spread out in front of you. you were upset, and burying yourself in your work was a reasonable solution.

you stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, back aching from your hunched over form. you sighed, finally deciding to turn into the bed that’s been calling your name.

wandering hands & soft calls of your name woke you up.

you opened your eyes, brain still clouded with the fog of sleep. you woke up quickly, seeing robb’s form above you.

“robb?”

“hey, pretty.”

your brows furrowed, cheeks heating at his comment. “thought you were mad at me..”

he shook his head, gaze softening. “came to say ‘m sorry. can i?”

you nodded, tongue darting out to wet your lips. he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, your own parting to give him access.

“‘m sorry.”

he mumbled against your lips, kissing you again. his lips trailing down your neck, mumbled apologies spilling from his lips between kisses.

your breathing gets heavier as he trails down, removing your nightgown & his own clothes.

“when i saw y’ take that arrow.. gods, doe..”

he’s gentle. he always is, but more so than ever before. he’s taking his time, full on cherishing you. it’s clear in the gentleness of his calloused, war stricken hands. the very same hands that had taken the lives of lannister soldiers earlier that day were now caressing you, softly roaming your body & sliding into the slick place between your thighs.

“wanted to stop the damn war right then, right there. hold you close, never let you go.”

he feels you clench on his fingers at his words. hot pleasure shoots up your spine, the throbbing pain in your thigh now reduced to a forgotten ache. he wants to do this for the rest of his life, he thinks. take off the crown, bed you all day long. give you so much pleasure you forget a time where anything ever went wrong, fill your brain with thoughts of only him, him, him. he makes a silent promise to do so, once you both return to winterfell. reward you for all the times you’ve saved his arse out here.

“y’couldve.. wouldn’t have- mm! complained..”

he chuckles at your words, tilting his head to the side.

“yeah? woulda liked that?” you nod. “yeah, i know.. i know it, pretty.”

it’s not long after, you’re gushing on his fingers. back arching as you coat your inner thighs & his hand with your arousal. robb presses kisses to your belly as you catch your breath, hands coming to intertwine with his curls as he trails up your torso. little-

“‘m sorry.” & “forgive me? please?”

‘s are muttered between kisses, and you don’t have the heart to tell him you forgave him hours ago — before he even came back. he aligns his cock with your entrance, slowly pushing in as he wraps his hand around yours.

“didn’t mean anythin’ i said. not a word. i was- seven hells… i was so afraid.”

you’re so full. tears brim your waterline at his words, his hands, his cock — just robb. he thrusts, in & out, movements making you shutter as you’re hyper aware of everything. every touch, every slow drag of his hips. goosebumps trail along your body as you bite back a shudder, feeling utterly oh so good.

you ask him to kiss you, & he’s compliant to your every need, pressing his lips to yours. he’d fulfill your every request, go to the ends of the earth if you asked him to. what teasing he may normally shower you with is out of the window now, savoring every moment he has with you, as if you could vanish at any given point in time. watching you take that arrow reminded him of that. that you could.

he hits the right spot, over and over again, making you see stars. it’s not long before your grip on his hand tightens, walls clamping down on his cock as you cum. he follows suit, cumming with a groan that reverberates deep in his chest.

he cleans you with a damp washcloth, making sure your stitches didn’t tear either. you’re both laying on your sides, you facing his chest as his hand traces up and down your spine. the silence is comfortable.

“you forgive me?”

“i forgave you hours ago.”

your laughter echoes into the night.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜.・。.・゜✭・.

@cdragons @ghostinvenus (just lmk anytime u wanna stop being tagged!)

guys i went a little ham w this but oh well. posting smut on tumblr is soooo scary okay bye

#game of thrones #asoiaf #robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark imagine #robb stark prompt #theon greyjoy #second in command reader #goddddd #need his babies #LMFOA IM SORRY #me saying sorry as if i didn’t just write about him putting his cock inside of u. get out #i feel filthy posting this #perhaps i am #perhaps i’m filthy #hashtag we filthy today #sigh

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captain-price-unofficially · 10 months

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HMS Vanguard visiting Rotterdam in July 1952

#july #naval #Cold War

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grandmaster-anne · 10 months

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15 June 1953 Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip on HMS Vanguard for British fleet review

#philibet #queen elizabeth ii #prince philip #duke of edinburgh #my gifs #queue

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ltwilliammowett · 3 months

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The Conquering Hero: Admiral Sir Horatio Nelson’s victorious flagship HMS Vanguard towed into Naples for repairs by HMS Thalia, 22nd September 1798 after the Battle of the Nile, by Maarten Platje (1967- )

#naval art #hms vanguard #1798 #age of sail #art

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cursedalthoughts · 9 months

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SHIPGIRL APPRECIATION DAY - Monarch

HMS Monarch, the preliminary design of the King George V-class battleships. Monarch, the prideful and elegant yet arrogant and disdainful half-sister of the KGV-class. Her whole existence, her whole reason of being, revolves around understanding herself. Why was she scrapped? Why were her blueprints disregarded in favor of - in her mind - an objectively worse design? Why, after disregarding her, did they bring her into existence? Just to mock her?

Monarch is a complex character. Deep inside her mind, nobody likes her. Nobody stands her. She's just an asset to be used in war, a number; a statistic. If she goes down, there are better battleships than her, so nobody would miss her. If she dies defending humanity, not even a memory of her career would remain.

But it's that true? Monarch might not understand what's the hype about a 'chainsaw man' but Vanguard won't shut up about it, because Vanguard cares about Monarch and wants to turn her into a weeb. Monarch might not understand why Georgia keeps inviting her to all these parties and adventures around the world, for Monarch only thinks Georgia is mocking her. Sometimes, however, Monarch understands why Georgia invites her to a party with Seattle and New Jersey. Sometimes, Monarch sees Duke of York inviting her to her mysterious estate as a sign of trust. Sometimes she sees Hood trusting her to take care of Queen Elizabeth as a sign that people value her. But only sometimes, because if Monarch is one thing, is stubborn. Stubborn and self-depricating. Hateful, not of others, but of herself.

Of course she was discarded. Triple 380mm turrets weren't a thing in the Royal Navy when she was designed. She relied on a different armor scheme that they didn't fully understand.

Some days Monarch doesn't want to get out of bed. She ponders if she vanished, would anyone miss her? "If a tree falls in a forest, but no one is there to hear it, does it still make a sound?" she asks herself, for she is a tree in a lone forest, and her fall wouldn't be heard.

Cornered by her own thoughts, Monarch fails to see the truth that people care about her. She hides behind an arrogant and superior demeanor to hide her many, many colorful complexes. She acts stronger than all others not because she believes in it, but because it comforts her. However, the truth is simple. It is also scary to her. She yearns to be of value to others, yet can't stand the idea of having to depend on others, as she can hardly keep herself afloat most days.

That is why you should headpat your local Monarch. Take her out for fancy diner. Arrange her to meet with her half-sisters that care about her - Howe and Duke of York. Put her in fleets with shipgirls that appreciate her presence. Force her to understand that she is wanted, because otherwise she will ignore the signs.

-----

Special thanks to @snowydragonsden for that beautiful Monarch x Georgia fic i linked. it means a lot to me.

also yeah she's basically me. that's why i love Monarch so much.

the next shipgirl will be Mainz!!! hopefully i publish that post within this month of August!

#azur lane #hms monarch #shipgirl appreciation day #brainrot #y'all DO NOT understand how much i love monarch #she's like me fr fr

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between-crowns-and-tiaras · 3 months

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100 Photos of Queen Elizabeth II: {97/100}

While on board the HMS Vanguard, the young Princess Elizabeth plays tag with midshipmen; 1947.

#100 photos of the queen

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tearitar · 5 months

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[destiny wip] the one where s14 plans to gambit

featuring one of my favorite combos: osiris/s14 + a very stressed drifter

unsure when i will finish the rest of it but i am extremely fond of the first section so here it is.

The weekend usually brings about the same crowds toward Saint’s ship in the hanger. Occasionally a new face shows up, eager to try their hand at Trials, and Saint is more than happy to let them in. Late nights tend to be the most popular times for full matches, which leaves his weekend mornings free to feed the resident hanger birds and clean up shop.

The birds have been fewer this early morning, and the hanger remains quiet. The sun has barely risen, glowing its muted orange. Saint enjoys the view, sitting on one of his ammo crates and sprinkling some birdseed from time to time. Despite Osiris’ arguments, it’s just as good as a cup of coffee. Maybe even better.

Still, a cup of coffee would be nice. Saint is about to get up and procure himself one when he sees someone slinking over to his… general vicinity. Their eyes meet. Saint only feels a little shocked to see the Drifter some steps away.

For a moment, neither of them move. Saint gives a short wave, in case Drifter isn’t actually here to see him then at least he’s given a greeting. But, against all odds, Drifter starts approaching in earnest, giving off an incredible aura of nervousness and, strangely enough, determination.

“Good morning! Are you here for a Trials card?” Saint asks dubiously, but not totally devoid of hope.

“After what y’all put me through last time?” Drifter sniffs. “Hell no, brother.”

Saint deflates a little. Ah, well. Their last Trials outing had been fun, in Saint’s opinion. Drifter obviously doesn’t have the same sentiments, which is a shame. Drifter had done remarkably well despite all his protesting. A man who can complain and put up a decent fight at the same time isn’t one who’d been using all his faculties. Saint wonders what’ll put someone like the Drifter through his paces.

“Hm.” Saint lets out a huff of static. “So how may I help you? A new scam?”

Drifter doesn’t seem bothered by the comment. “No scam here.”

The pause that follows after doesn’t give Saint much confidence, but Drifter appears to be gearing himself up to say his next piece. Saint politely waits. The pigeons peck at his boots, trilling, so he sprinkles another handful on the ground.

“I’m just—ah. Look,” Drifter begins, eyeing the pigeons rather than Saint himself. “I have some information you might be interested in. As a fellow associate to the Vanguard.”

“You can send the information to my Ghost. I thought we were already contacts,” Saint says, apologetically, about to wave Geppetto in, but Drifter shakes his head.

“This is a little more sensitive. I’m trying to be tactful here,” Drifter says through gritted teeth. He blows out a sigh, sounding like he’s ripping off a bandaid. “So, just thought you’d like to know. Your man Osiris signed himself up for a Gambit match.”

Saint takes in this new information with what little grace he can manage. “He what?”

“You heard right. He paid for admission and everything.”

“Pull him out.”

Drifter looks almost as annoyed as he does. “He paid me extra for admission. It’s not in my interest to pull him out without his permission. He’ll think I scammed him.”

“Well, it won’t be in your interest if he gets killed playing one of your games,” Saint says, low.

Drifter shuffles his feet, like he wants to agree but instead he stands up a little straighter with a scowl. “Look. I’m only passing along an observation. The guy was a top notch Guardian back in the day when he had the Light. And for what it’s worth, I did tell him he might not do so well in Gambit without it. I told him multiple times, actually, and he just threw more Glimmer at me to shut up. What could I do, you know?”

Saint-14 puts his pouch of birdseed to the side. It leaves his hands free to clench them into fists, gloves creaking against the strain.

Drifter obviously notices. He throws his hands up in exasperation. “You think I’m a dummy? That’s why I’m here. I’m sayin’ you go get him. He sure as hell didn't listen to me.”

The idea has some merit. Osiris is stubborn at best with Saint so it makes sense he’d be impossible with Drifter.

“Fine,” Saint says. “Put me in.”

Drifter flicks him a green coin. “It’s a thousand Glimmer for the entry fee.”

Saint catches it, turning the coin in his palm. The Vex symbol glints in the weak morning light. “You said no scam.”

Drifter doesn’t seem to be aware of which coin he’d given him. Judging from his careless shrug, the man truly seems to regard himself as blameless. “It ain’t. This is doing business. There’s a buy-in for everyone. Gambit needs a lot to keep running — running safely, if you catch my drift.”

Saint stands up. He drops his hand on Drifter’s shoulder. He gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Drifter. Your tenacity is admirable.”

He can feel Drifter’s muscles tense under his palm. The man starts to look a little paler. It’s a little mean, Saint-14 can admit, and it’s not like he’s short on Glimmer. But the principle of the matter still remains; he’d rather not be hoodwinked and he’s not above relaying that message.

“I can discount you fifty percent. Ex-Vanguard special,” Drifter says, sharp as a tact. Amazing how quick on the uptake some people can get with the right pressure. When Saint’s hold loosens, he steps back with a strained smile. “And I can sub you in as a Sentry. You’d make a good fit.”

“No.”

Drifter’s strained smile disappears. “No?”

“I’ve read up on your Gambit matches from Shin Malphur’s reports,” Saint says, ignoring how Drifter frowns at the name. “I will go as an Invader.”

Drifter gets a gleam in his eye. A little bit of hunger, a lot more of greed. He flips one of his green coins. No doubt he has a bias for the more vicious role. “Ohoho, interesting. Done.”

Satisfied, Saint leans away. “Put me on the opposite team as well.”

Drifter’s coin goes flying from his fingers. It pings off the ground, scaring a couple of pigeons into the air.

“Uh,” he starts. “I thought you’d want to get Osiris back.”

Saint shrugs. “And I will. Easily.”

Drifter’s mouth stays shut for an extended amount of time before he opens it again, his voice a little weaker. “Just so we’re clear, Saint, bein’ an Invader ain’t about protecting anything. You’d have to kill-”

“Extremely easily then.”

The good thing about having a longstanding reputation is the general lack of opposition when it comes down to doing things your way. Drifter looks like he understands the concept or, at the very least, resigned to it.

“Alrighty then,” Drifter says, braving Saint-14’s firm handshake. “See you in a couple of hours.”

#typans #destiny #o14 #saint 14 #wip

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