#*dying of heat exhuastion*

[the--quotifyer--innit]

john: I think we should kiss. sherlock: And I think you should die but we don’t always get what we want.

[venomgender]

4 different fans blowing on me from different directions and im still dying of heat exhuastion yayyyy yayyyy yayyyy i love summerrrrr

[darksct]

“ terrified of my love for you? ”  /  @keenforjoaquin​

“ you are gravely mistaken, emperor, ” she speaks cautiously, hidden as she sits upon her throne with loose fabrics around her body. the queen has fallen ill, too weak to find herself walking out of the doors of her palace. these rumors have reached the ears of the ambitious commodus, prompting him to visit. but she does not imagine that he has been graced with the knowledge of why exactly why she has fallen ill — why her claim to the throne is weaker than it has ever been. for willow herself, the last living heir of this throne would be sure to die within the next few months. she wonders whether he had rejoiced upon hearing such news, or whether it was received with some dismay. 

and she has not seen him for weeks, months after discovering that she is with child. a child created of their dancing flames in heated passion. a child with a claim to a throne that would absorb her small empire into that of the romans. and now she sits unable to stand on her own, for everytime she attempts such a thing, she falls ill. it was not her intention to allow this news to reach the ears of the emperor but she imagines someone had an incentive to ensure that this would reach rome. perhaps james himself, who has seen his queen and betrothed delay their wedding several times. “ it is not love you feel for me. your lust has become a sickly obsession that you cannot seem to relinquish. ” there is pain in her eyes as she speaks, knowing she will die before knowing what it is to feel the kiss of his lips upon her own one last time. and perhaps this will be her final request, for even the birth of her child has become uncertain. 

she waves a hand, motioning for the guards to leave her be and they do but only after some hesitance. before her stands only ten of her most trusted men, james excluded. “ there is something you are to know. ” she is pale with the exception of her cheeks that burn pink with exhuastion. and she sighs, watching as the men stride towards the next room. “ it is true what they speak of me, commodus. ” willow is to perish one day sooner than she had even hoped, for as much as a part of her wishes to join her family, she cannot help but feel as though she will leave the earth with unfinished business. “ i am a dying a woman but i will not yet allow you to take, ” she pauses, ragged huffs slipping past her lips. “ my land. ” her head is spinning, but her hands extend over the rests of her throne as she forces herself up. “ i am with child. ” with child. one she could conceal to be that of james. of her husband to be. “ allow me to spare the energy to bring my child into this world. do not cause me more stress, ” she pleads softly. 

she allows her hands to fall to her sides and the fabrics, once able to obscure her swollen stomach now expose the curve of it where an innocent soul grows. “ upon my death the empire will be yours. ”