#I drew a chapel and everything

[its-ironic-right]

Fantasy Vegas wedding 💒

Also what are shadows??? How do they work?

Click for best resolution because I fucked up lol

[viewerspookyhappenings]

okay buckle up chuckle fucks here is everything i remember from tonight (absolutely missing some stuff)

- before dan comes on he introduces himself over the speaker stating that he asked phil to do it and phil said no because he didn’t want to be sat behind a curtain for an hour

- dan comes on stage and stands in the big church plinth thing (iconic)

- he tells a story about how he went to a&e the day before yesterday because he had sore eyes. says phil was trying to get him to put eye drops in but he was being very dramatic so whilst on the phone to 111 phil knelt over him lying on the bathroom floor holding his eyes open to put drops in. dan then went to hospital to check it and everything’s fine (lol) he just needed some special eyedrops. phil did not accompany him and dan had to cross a dual carriageway on his own whilst not being able to see well (i doubt he will ever let it go)

- here is a diagram i drew on the way home to depict said event

- it is also giving this

- spoke about the butt chair. union chapel said they did not have any furniture for him to borrow so he had to bring his own - he bought the butt chair from his bedroom and a lil plant to decorate. said phil carried the plant to the car but made dan get the chair in the uber and then said “okay have fun at work sweetie” (this was said jokey but we died nonetheless)

- he then talks about pissyourselffordan trending and how he had to explain to harper collins what the actual fuck was happening on stan twt. apparently they were glad the fans were supportive and he has an engaged audience but they were not going to use the hashtag in the promo. called the whole scenario pissgate and the crowd chanted piss at him

- he was told there was wine and advertised wine before realising alcohol was not allowed in the church. he then got given a sprite and everyone screamed that it was piss

- talked about the book and the previous release, how weird covid was, talked about the photoshoot for the book cover and the graphic design. said he didn’t love the pics because they were super dramatic. someone shouted “it’s cunty” he replies: “oh it’s cunty is it?” then realises he said cunty in a church which was a big lol

- he then read the new chapters, several mentions of phil not being supportive and abandoning him at the hospital (he talked about phil a lot it was very sweet)

- then brought out dan’s slit (box used to put questions in before the show)

- the questions i can remember include but are not limited to:

- what was the weirdest position you wrote the book in: “cheeks out in an armchair curled up over my laptop, you might think your scrolling posture is okay now but when you hit thirty you will all be broken”

- fave comfort show: “the office - is the office a bit millennial? it isn’t as millennial as friends. ross being offended by a manny? that’s where my internalised homophobia is from”

- how has the gaming channel affected your mental health? A: he is finding it a lot more sustainable than before because of help with editing, but will see where it goes

- will he ever judge drag race: he didn’t want to when he was asked because he didn’t want to be exposed to more speculation about his sexuality at the time, same with strictly come dancing

- how do you cope with feeling lonely whilst surrounded by people: talked about how online friends are truly real friends and distance doesn’t have to determine friendship levels. says it is important to notice the friendships even that aren’t close

- i can’t remember the question but he said that phil has to remind him of some of the stuff that is in ywgttn when he struggles “i literally learnt the word catastrophising from your book dan come on”

- another tour? “do you guys want that” *screaming* “what would it be?” *dan and phil games screams* “well 👀👀”

- are we going to get more sister daniel: *everyone loses their minds* “maybe i should have done it for the church but it is far too exposing under the spotlight”

- did you work in the asda in Lower Earley: “what in the baby reindeer? yes i did”

- then went to the insta questions that were too inappropriate for the audiobook including

- piss

- will you wear wigs

- when will you wear wigs

- how long is your big toe “six centimetres - i don’t have a big toe im just a long person”

- pee pee poo poo time

- what were the other names for the book: “you will get through this was a bit cliche, you will get through this night? she is sexy and mysterious. at first we wanted to call it “you are messed up read this to fix your issues” but then realised the book was more serious in tone after it was finished so went with ywgttn instead”

- i genuinely can’t remember most of these i think i dissociated a lil at this point if anyone remembers please add

- then read the author’s note at the end of the paper back, talking about how lockdown impacted him and was a big scary thing and also how incredible it is to see people recommend it, find it useful, have therapists recommend it etc. “it is an honour to have created this”

- took a selfie with everyone

- someone gave him a bouquet of flowers and he said “aww you guys are so gay”

- then said “if you enjoyed seeing me in person… i’ll see you again very soon”

this is everything i remember off the top of my head so people please feel free to add what i have forgotten!!

and here are all the pics i got!!

[drewsbuzzcut]

Lay All Your Love On Me

college baseball player!drew starkey x fem!reader

a college baseball au blurb (summer series)

warnings: mentions being naked and alludes to sex

You can’t stop your hands from shaking. You’re not nervous, just excited. You’re about to marry your best friend in a small, beautiful chapel in Capri, Italy.

You and Drew signed any document necessary for you to be here. You will get married and travel throughout Italy as your honeymoon. The Italy trip has been planned since your junior year of college, but just last minute you both decided to elope there. You were glad to have it be just the two of you, not needing to worry about planning and stressing about other people. It is also way more romantic.

The warm breeze blows through your hair, loose waves flowing off your shoulders. You’re dressed in a simple, white dress with a broderie anglaise pattern in the fabric, paired with green kitten heels.

The sun sneaks in past the arches of the old building, casting you in an angelic glow. The sunlight also makes Drew’s eyes look like stained glass, meant to be in some kind of museum to be appreciated. However, you wish to be the only one that can swim in them.

His hands hold your delicate ones, softly tracing your knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

You take multiple deep breaths as the priest joins both of your hearts for eternity, but there’s nothing more calming than Drew’s touch, or his lingering stare. The closer you get to finally being married, the more you see Drew’s face turn up into a smile. A smile that becomes tearful when you both recite your vows. Nothing or anyone can prepare you for how emotional it is. You wipe away his tears just as he does the same for you.

When the priest gets to the final part, the part before Drew gets to kiss you, both of your hearts start racing, dying to jump into each other’s arms. However, the moment you’re both to say “I do,” everything moves in slow motion. The way your faces light up in a bright smile, and Drew grabs onto your arms to pull you into him. His hands rest on your hips while one of yours cups the back of his neck and the other is splayed out on the side of his face, making sure his lips don’t leave yours. Your sweet kiss is interrupted by your soft giggles, a deep blush dusting your cheeks when you look up to see Drew with the same flushed smile. You pull him into a hug, arms wrapping around his neck right before you whisper your words of love into his ear.

“We’re married!” You gleam, your whole body thrumming with elation.

“I love you, Mrs. Starkey,” Drew says, kissing you one more time. You have to stop yourself from screaming out loud and jumping around like a maniac.

As you and Drew walk back to your small villa, you have your hands on each other the whole time. Yours rests happily around his waist while his hand caresses the back of your neck. The stark contrast of the cold metal of his wedding band biting at your hot skin serves as your personal reminder that you’re now married.

Every once in a while you have to stop your trek so you can pull him down into a kiss almost as blistering as the sun. Making it back to your small villa proves to be a difficult task when you both continue to stop every other minute, needing to drown in each other, too impatient to wait until you’re confined in privacy.

However, when you do make it back, Drew is quick to strip you out of your dress. He has to stop for a minute, collecting his thoughts and calming his breathing when he sees you only dressed in dainty, white lingerie. Something you picked up before your trip.

You fluster under his heated, desire-filled gaze, growing shy as if it’s the first time he’s seeing you naked. The pad of his finger traces your small flower tattoo along your collarbone before his hands rub your arms, making your chills disappear. He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, smiling softly when you look down.

“Don’t get shy on me, darling,” he whispers in your ear, kissing the shell of it after. His smooth voice makes you melt, your body leaning all the way into him. His hands travel the expanse of your back, stopping along the way to trace your sun tattoo inked on the skin of your tailbone. He slowly peels your panties off then moves to unclasp your bra, leaving you completely bare while he’s still wearing his linen pants and sage green button up.

“I want you,” you whimper, blinking up at him through your eyelashes, your eyes hypnotizing him to do whatever you ask as if he’d ever tell you no.

Your hands start unbuttoning his shirt, kissing his muscled chest up his neck.

“I love you, husband,” you giggle, growing excited at the new pet name you can finally call him.

“I love you more, my beautiful wife,” he says, picking you up and throwing you on the bed, loving the melodious sounds of your laughter.

“Show me,” you muse, looking absolutely heavenly with your hair splayed out over the soft pillows, and your silky body on display.

“I intend to,” he claims, igniting that flame.

You just smile, readying yourself for the pleasure that is sure to take over.

a/n: First installment of the summer series. Hope you all enjoy!!!

taglist: @maybankslover @91vhs @sp00ky-spr1te @livsters @seris-circle @one-sweet-gubler @a06e @tiacordelia02 @ijustwanttoreadlols @a23starkey @cameronmedia @mutual-mendes

[jrooc]

Weekly Tag Wednesssdaaayyyyyy ✨

Thanks for the tags and hosting @heymacy and tags from you wonderful cookies @mybrainismelted @transmickey @energievie @spookygingerr @gallapiech @roryonic @crestfallercanyon @mmmichyyy @deedala @ardent-fox

name: Jess or jrooc

age: 2 slices of Pie or a Nosho and a half

your time zone: EST

what do you do for work? Marketing for Tech/Saas companies

do you have any pets? My cat Lily who is my master, commander, dictator and co-dependant fur-heart of 16 years

what first drew you to this fandom? Someone suggested I watch the show when I was in a very low point and recovering from yet another surgery and then I became obsessed and went down the internet rabbit hole and here I am! The fandom was such a lovely welcoming place that felt like a warm hug and soothed my broken soul and I’ve been happy here since.

are you a morning person or a night owl? Night owl

what are your hobbies? Reading. Writing. Fandom-ing (same, Macy, same)

how tall are you? 5' 8

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live? So many places: the Bahamas? A greek island sounds great. Tulum? Turkey. Cinqo terre.

favourite color? Green

favorite book? So many. Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel.

favorite movie? Pride & Prejudice - Kiera Knightly version is what's popping up in my brain

favorite fic? Old Rules For New Side Pieces

favorite musical artist: Right now? BoyGenius and Chapell Roan or Pinegrove. All time? Rilo Kiley. Future Islands.

what is your average screen time so far this week? 3hrs 59min

what's the first app you open in the morning? Discord to say hi to pocket friends and see the euro/aussie chatter I missed overnight.

how long have you been on tumblr? 1 year in June

finally (and i know this one is hard) tell me a fun fact about yourself: Ummm… My fun facts are boring. I’m a road cycling dork. I’ve recently been into Greek wines. And I can be a bit of a dick but I swear I don’t mean it I just forget that saying everything that comes to my brain sometimes comes out in asshole. I say things with force but I’m actually quite flexible!

Tags below the fold (there’s a tumblr tag issue so sorry if this breaks- also why the tags are spaced weird lol)

@lee-ow pat pat pat @sgtmickeyslaughter @astaraels @guinguin1984 @suzy-queued

@mickeysgaymom @heymrspatel @gallavichsuperfan @rayrayor @bawlbrayker

@look-i-love-u @redwiccanrobin @sillygoofygoobersstuff @krysmiss

@spoonfulstar @doshiart @too-schoolforcool @creepkinginc @ian-galagher

@such-a-barbarian @blue-disco-lights @francesrose3 @ms-moonlight-inn @notherenewjersey

[falmerbrook]

TES Summer Fest Day 3: Hungry

Summary: In the months after becoming a vampire Vyrthur is still trying to maintain a sense of normalcy, but having not fed recently, he is struggling to keep up with his duties, and his brother grows concerned.

(warning for descriptions of blood and gore)

I’ve been working on and off on this long backstory fic for Gelebor and Vyrthur, and this is a scene idea I’ve had for the second half of it that I think could work alright out of context as well. These guys live rent free in my head. I think I have thought about them more than the people who actually made them.

AO3 Link

The sun had never been so oppressive. It was noon of the summer solstice, and it felt as if the eyes of Aurl-El himself were baring down on Vyrthur, judging him as he stood on the Chantry’s balcony. In front of him there was a wooden altar with Auri-El’s bow and a sunhallowed arrow laid out upon it, and beyond that his clergy gathered below him. He couldn’t see them as he squinted and tried in vain to blink the pain of the sun’s searing light out of his eyes, but he could smell the metallic scent swirling inside their bodies and feel the warmth radiating from their skin. The emptiness in his stomach was scratching at his insides as the feeling infected his thoughts.

“We thank our… exalted father for giving… giving us these long… w-warm days under his… merry—no, merciful light. We are, as always… undeserving of… of… of this,” he spoke out into the crowd as the sensations of Auri-El’s mercy bombarded him. He knew he was butchering the prayer, but every second in this moment was agonizing.

“May Auri-El continue to… to bless us with… peace,” Vyrthur looked down to reach for the bow and arrow, but everything was too bright. His hands felt like they weren’t his own, and the table below him was beginning to pulsate and sway. He fumbled for a moment to pick up the bow and nock the arrow.

“And may his brilliance protect us from… our enemies and… and…” Vyrthur drew the arrow back and aimed the bow at the sky. It was just a blinding white, so bright it pierced through even his tightly shut eyelids. The skin of his hands and face were on fire and prickled as if he were being poked with thousands of needles, “illuminate our path.”

He fired the arrow, unsure if it was even pointed at the sun if not for a sudden flash of light from the sky and the awed gasps from the crowd. It was too much, and Vyrthur finally brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the light; to shield his eyes from his beloved god like a coward.

With that, the festival had commenced, but Vyrthur couldn’t bear to be outside anymore. The ceremony had been a few minutes at most, but it had felt like hours. His skin was on fire and the world was so bright, the air so filled with the heaviness of the warm bodies around him that a primal hunger was seeping into his mind. He stepped off the platform and made his way towards the doors to the main chapel, stepping slowly and deliberately so as to not make it apparent how desperate he was to get inside. However, by the time he had reached the door, his attempts to seem leisurely had been cast aside as he nearly threw himself through the doorway and slammed the door behind him. The sounds of the festival outside were cut off with the crispness of the Inner Sanctum’s air. Stumbling along the walls of the room he made his way to a bench and fell onto it, heaving and shaking. The halls of the Chantry were lined with guarded windows that let in little light, usually meant for protection in the winter, but now protecting Vyrthur from the summer. The Vale outside was so blinding that he had found the darkest corner of the chapel to rest. Barely 10 minutes outside and his body was aching and burning as if he was completing his pilgrimage all over again, famished and weak. Only this time, he was starting to realize Auri-El might not greet him at the end of this one.

For 3 agonizingly long months it had been a repeating cycle of starving himself until he had no choice but to give into the temptation. Unable to be satiated by the normal food that had fed Vyrthur for the entirety of his life, he would eventually find his thoughts becoming wild and disjointed, only clear when he could smell the blood of his clergy; those thoughts being only of violence and the spilling of their blood. The feeling terrified him in his moments of solitude, and the growing fear that one day he would harm one of his own peers became an ever-present gnawing at his psyche. He knew he needed to feed to protect his people from whatever darkness had infested him, but the act made him feel disgusting. He had been targeting animals of the Vale, but the discovery of their bodies and the threat his hunting was doing to the precious few resources Auri-El provided to them in their haven made the choice to continue down that path risky. Risky and selfish. With every feeding he felt his sense of self and his connection with Auri-El slipping as it filled him with a sickly energy and satisfaction each time.

“Vyrthur.”

Caught up in the dizzying thoughts of his hunger, Vyrthur hadn’t noticed the opening and closing of the chapel door, nor the footsteps approaching him, and startled at his brother’s voice.

“Are you alright? You seemed… distracted during the ceremony.” Gelebor usually spoke in soft tone, but Vyrthur recognized it as particularly gentle and careful in this moment.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be back out in a minute. I’m just not feeling my best today, but it will pass,” he replied.

Despite avoiding looking at the other mer, Vyrhtur could almost hear Gelebor’s frown deepen as he crouched beside the bench.

“You seem like you’re quite beyond the point of ‘not feeling well’. You look pale. I think you may be ill.”

Vyrthur kept his eyes focused on the floor, but noticed a hand reaching out to touch him and pressing against his forehead briefly before he squatted it away with a huff.

“Seriously, Gelebor, I’m fine. I’m just tired. It seems like I must’ve overexerted myself in all the commotion around the festival preparations. We aren’t quite as young as we used to be, are we,” Vyrthur said, attempting a chuckle to lighten the mood.

Clearly this didn’t work, as Gelebor flatly ignored him and continued with his concerns, “You looked like you were burning up out there, but you feel so cold. You’re clearly—"

“It’s fine. I’ve felt like this often recently. It’s just my age.”

“That’s why I’m worried, Vyrthur. You have seemed so unwell and distant since you almost died. The others are noticing it too—and I don’t say that to embarrass you, but I know they worry you are becoming unable to fulfill your duties. I know you would never do that on purpose, and I understand that you may not want to be public about whatever it is plaguing you, but something is clearly affecting you and I wish you would at least talk about it to me.”

Vyrthur kept his gaze cemented to the bricks at his feet in silence. He could hear the concern dripping from Gelebor’s words, but he struggled to embrace the feeling as his brother’s physical closeness triggered the hunger pains again. He had been avoiding eye contact over the past few months, worried Gelebor would notice the change in his eyes. To make matters worse, now just being near him Vyrthur could smell and feel the rich blood inside him. The thought of attacking Gelebor and splattering it all over the floor was clawing at the back of his mind, with the revulsion of the thought’s existence at the forefront. He was worried that if he even glanced over at Gelebor he’d be unable to resist the temptation.

Perhaps he should say something though, at least lay out a hint out for Gelebor to muse over, but the fear of his own blood spilling to his brother’s mace petrified him. Gelebor had made a promise to bring down whatever beast was terrorizing the Vale, and Vyrthur couldn’t feel completely secure in the thought that he would forego that promise just because the monster was his family.

“Seriously. I’m alright. Please stop worrying about me. I’ve not felt like… I’ve not felt as good as I used to since the excursion, yes, but today was just a result of not taking care of myself recently. I just need to rest for a moment,” Vyrthur said, finally bringing his gaze up to meet Gelebor’s, “Go out and enjoy the festivities with everyone.”

The eye contact replaced the pain of the hunger with a pain of guilt as Vyrthur saw the sustained worry in Gelebor’s eyes. It was obvious that Vyrthur’s reassurances made no difference, but still, Gelebor straightened himself with a sigh, relenting.

“Just keep resting until you feel better then, ok Vyr? Take your time. Don’t push yourself. We can wait,” he said as he turned to leave back through the doors to the balcony. As the doors closed, Vyrthur was left in the dark and silence, his hunger finally leaving the forefront of his mind.

-----

That night, Vyrthur found himself crouched in the entrance of a cave along the side of the Vale’s cliffs, his jaw tightly clenched around the neck of one of the Betrayed. His robes and arms were drenched in its blood from his frantic feeding, but as he lapped up the blood gushing out of its neck, he felt a surge of power and energy. He was getting high off it. Even as he drank, it made his hunger stronger until eventually his stomach began to feel full. How bad was this, really? Better he hunt one of these inferior beasts than one of his own, right? The less of these disfigured abominations of Auri-El’s children, the better, and the safer. Safer for the Chantry, and safer for himself.

As the hunger began to subside as his thoughts began to finally clear, Vyrthur paused and pulled away from his feast, looking down at it. The neck and shoulder had been shredded and mangled, the head nearly decapitated. In the few breaks through the blood covering his hands and the Betrayed’s body he could see their skin was the same. This one was clearly young, not a child, but small and inexperienced enough to have been easy prey. As the blood sat heavier and heavier in his stomach, he couldn’t look away from the scene in his arms.

Unceremoniously, Vyrthur tossed the body of the Betrayed down a steep passage of the cave, out of sight before the disgust could truly settle in.

[xgummibearx]

 Fatgum x (F) Reader: Fantasy AU PT1

(PT1) Wedding Night. 

((Author’s note: This is loosely inspired by Under the Oak Tree and I will admit that up front. 

Trigger Warnings:  Fluff, SFW, SLOW BURN this is gonna have multiple parts and I intend to slowly build up a beautiful, strong, healthy, and stable relationship. 

(--) = insert name 

You have been betrothed to the Golden knight. The renown champion of the realm, friend of the dragons. The people’s hero. You as the reader are a lower nobleman’s daughter and have been betrothed to Taishiro to symbolize the union of your homeland to his newly established stronghold in the mountains. You can’t help but wonder if you are worthy of him. 

---

((Pt 2 available!))

---

The light poured in from the many windows. Colours illuminated her veiled face from the stained glass behind the altar, the guests whispered and stood agape as the chapel filled with song. The upper floors were filled with a large choir, their voices only adding to the ethereal atmosphere. She walked with no one at her side but those closest to her walked ahead of her in procession, slowly filling the seats to one side. Her eyes slowly lifted to the ceiling to look at the beautiful crystal chandeliers that caught the light and made sunspots dance. The ceiling and walls were painted with intricate images of angels dancing among the clouds, the pews were polished wood, the carpet was red. (--) felt her heart racing, doing everything she could to look everywhere but the altar. Anywhere, focus on anything but the man that would soon stand before her. They had only met once, when her father offered her hand. They were not permitted to even speak to one another. Eventually her entourage opened the way for her to finally stand before the altar. Then, and only then did she look. 

Her heart skipped a beat as she gazed upon him, His armor was well polished and reflected the many lights and colours of the room. Taishiro, he walked down the couple steps towering over her to offer his arm. It was expected of him. This was an obligation, wasn’t it? She thought to herself, but his eyes seemed to contradict all she had been told. That this marriage  was beneficial, ceremonial. That it meant nothing. As he reached his arm towards her, (--)’s heart skipped a beat. He was smiling, it made his face look so soft and kind. Her eyes finally met his, and they were as warm as his smile. 

Taishiro could hardly breathe, his nerves a bust as he stood beside (--). She looked beautiful, was he even permitted to think such a thing? He felt his heart grow heavy as she looked away and turned to the priest. “Surely, she agreed to this only out necessity? It is simply only her duty...” He took a deep breath. “As her to be husband...I only wish her happiness.” He saw something in those eyes of hers, and he longed to explore it. To learn the stories that were behind them and how life shaped that hypnotizing gaze. However, if her happiness meant that the closest he could be was at an arm’s length, then it would be so. 

“You may kiss your bride.” The old priest announced with a bow. 

(--) turned to face him, her fingers twisting the beautiful ring that now adorned her hand. She suddenly looked up in surprise, his large calloused hands taking hers with such a gentleness that she had never known. He was still smiling, his touch made a tickle run down her spine. He leaned forward, her heart racing with apprehension as their families cheered and sung together. Once again he surprised her, leaning to her ear. “If you permit me, may I?” He whispered, there was no hiding the hopefulness in his voice, but his question was so earnest and sweet. Her nerves ebbed away ever so slightly and she looked into his eye as he drew back to steal another longing gaze. (--) smiled, and he felt himself grow weak. 

“Yes...you may.” He gently held her face with a shaky hand. It was as though he already knew every curve of her as he gently brought her close, his kiss was light and left her feeling guilty for wishing it had been longer as he left the smallest, sweetest kiss on her lips. They left the church in a grand parade towards her parent’s estate to join the festivities, and for the rest of the night as (--) danced with him her heart grew heavier and heavier. “This is only an obligation...that is all he thinks of this isn’t it?” She didn’t know what to do, things were moving far too quickly. Wasn’t it dangerous, to fall in love so fast? 

The party dragged well into the night and (--) felt that she would pass out from the heat, waiting for a moment of respite. She found her way to the gardens, where she had spent much of her formative years. Often when her parents held parties, she would escape here. Walk by the pond, and watch the bees fly amongst the flowerbeds. She lay back in the grass, looking up at the stars as her dress billowed about her. (--) removed her shoes, breathing deeply. The snow was finally gone, the dampness dried up from warm sunny days but the air still clung to the chill in the evenings. She remained outside until she heard the music starting to die, and with it her heart sank as she walked back to the castle. Her stomach was tying itself into knots, she looked hesitantly into the ballroom. He was speaking to her guardian, unable to hear what they were saying but a part of her guessed it. 

More marital obligations. 

(--) Found the nearest servant and requested they inform Sir Taishiro that she would be in their room if he needed her. As she made her way to the room, her heart was pounding, her hands shaking as she opened the grand door. The room was warm from an already lit fireplace, beeswax candles scented with lavender made her feel somewhat more eased but she still felt dizzy with worry. Two handmaidens that were waiting for her. Silently they helped (--) get out of her wedding attire and into a comfortable nightgown. One of her own, but for the first time she noticed how thin the fabric was. How exposed her chest and neck felt. She got under the blankets and thanked the two ladies, insisting they could take their leave and she would be alright on her own. 

Taishiro went to the armory, his brows knit together. “Sir Tai?” A young man called. He felt at ease to see a familiar face, smiling. 

“Ah there you are Tamaki...I didn’t see you at the festivities after the ceremony.” Tamaki, his apprentice immediately came forward to start removing the ceremonial armor. He chuckled. 

“I don’t much care for parties.” He shrugged, carefully twisting out the bolts and sliding off the leather straps. “What do you think Taishiro?” Tamaki asked, putting the armor pieces one by one onto the work table. He rubbed his tired face, thankful to stretch properly. He pulled off the chainmail underneath himself, his yellow tunic loose on his soft body. 

“I think...that she is beautiful, and I only hope that she wants to know me as much as I long to know more of her...” Tamaki nodded, taking the chain mail and carefully putting it on the table. 

“Well, tell her that...when the time is right, you both have a long future together.” He smiled, “take your time and show her all the kindness in the world.” Taishiro chuckled. 

“You are wise beyond your years, thank you Tamaki.” He left the armory, and as he found himself at the staircase he saw a young woman waving, one of the servants. 

“Her ladyship awaits in the bridal chamber, she retired earlier.” She bowed then went about her business before Taishiro could even properly thank her. He went up the steps, his own heart racing as he approached the door. 

When he opened the door he was surprised that the candles still burned, bathing the room in a soft glow. She was sitting up in bed, looking out the window and lost in thought. He had opened the door quietly in case she was asleep and she had not yet seen him. Taishiro stepped back, his face burning. “What do I do?” He thought, without even thinking he suddenly knocked. Making (--) her  attention to the door. “Hello?” She called hesitantly. He cleared his throat and approached. 

“uhm, (--)? Forgive me I should have knocked before opening...I uhm...may I come in?” He wanted to kick himself, they were married he should probably just go in but...that felt so rude. His nerves eased as she offered him a sweet smile and nodded. He was unsure if he was overthinking it but, she seemed tense to him. Maybe she was just as nervous as he was. He politely bowed, entering the room. He didn’t think much of it, but he kept his back to her, just wanting to take off his smelly tunic. 

When he removed the tunic, the light bouncing off his soft looking bare chest her heat skipped a beat, and she slowly lowered her gaze. Every part of her trembled. “He...expects this of me?” She looked back up, he still wore his trousers, rummaging through his trunk of clean clothes. “I...well, that is my duty is it not?” She could barely breathe as she slid her legs our from under the covers to sit on the edge of the bed. Her fingers lifted to the buttons of her nightdress. She she undo them? Or wait did he want to? (--) felt sick to her stomach, did...did she even want him to? Did she even want this? She wanted to run, run as far and fast as she could. Her fingers struggled with the buttons as she continued to tremble. 

She had only undone the top button when those familiar hands took hers. (--) looked up, and he was kneeling beside the bed, his eyes looking into hers. “You’re shaking like a leaf...” He lowered his gaze, caressing her hands and just looking at them. As though he were memorizing their every detail before looking into her eyes again. “I am your husband...you are my wife, by title and ceremony yes however I believe there should be more to a marriage than duty, obligation and rules...” His thumb continued to run circles along her knuckles. He knew it, she was so nervous. Only a few hours they had shared, and already his heart ached to see her like this. 

 “I could hardly call myself a man if I brought on you such fear...” He hesitantly lifted a hand to her face. “I am your husband...and that means to me, that your happiness and safety are something that I must protect with the same ferocity that I use to safeguard our people.” (--) listened carefully, her shoulders finally loosening, her breaths free. “So, I swear to you that only when you permit me, when you are ready...we will share those more intimate experiences of this journey.” (--) could hardly speak as tears of relief silently poured down her face. He took her hand and placed on it a gentle kiss before he finished getting ready for bed. He blew the candles out for them, making sure the fire wasn’t too large before he too went to sleep. 

(--) felt the bed sink as he got in beside her, and although she was relived she could hardly relax. “He is disappointed, he must be.” She closed her eyes. He was a mighty warrior, respected, and renown. Surely he could have found any number of women that were more suited. “I am hardly worthy.” Was her last thought before falling into a troubled sleep. 

[helianthusaster]

I am either a genius or sleep-deprived

Smosh AU (kinda) TOS where everything is the same except they make silly videos during the 5 year mission

Who Meme'd It:

The people guessing are Uhura, Chapel, and Scotty and Kirk is hosting (of course) and yes I did edit that horrific taxidermy picture myself

Here's a closer look cause I know you want one

All of them guessed McCoy

Real answer here ⤵️

Surprise! It's Spock's First Meme!

Anyway lmk if you wanna see more I guess I drew a couple more screencaps

[ducktoonsfanart]

Happy 95th Birthday to Mickey and Minnie Mouse! - Tribute to sci-fi movies and comics (cosplay) - Star Wars and Star Trek

Unfortunately, sorry for the delay, since I don't have time to do everything myself, but here I am. Since both Mickey and Minnie are celebrating their 95th anniversary and since it's the 100th anniversary of the Disney Studio, I'm going to make it a little bit more of a celebration by drawing tributes to famous movies and also famous artists. By the way, I found inspiration in a drawing by the genius Andrea Freccero. I took inspiration more from Italian comics. Yes, I started with Star Wars, in which Mickey and friends (as well as enemies) play significant roles. I hope you have seen at least the first Star Wars movies as well as the sequels and get familiar with the famous sci-fi genres created by George Lucas and his people. Yes, I drew it my way.

Mickey is Luke Skywalker, Minnie is Mara Jade, Daisy is Princess Leia, Donald is Han Solo, Scrooge is Obi Wan-Kenobi, Huey is the Mandolarian, Dewey is the Ewok (Ewoks), Louie is Master Yoda, Goofy is C-3PO (the golden robot), Gyro is a member of the Imperial Army, Peg-Leg Pete is Darth Vader and Phantom Blot is Emperor Palpatine. And then there's the droid R2-D2. Yes, I prefer the second variant with Scrooge as Darth Vader, but oh well. I hope you like this drawing and this idea and you like characters like this.

The next drawing is related to Star Trek (please people don't get confused with two different sci-fi franchises) and I took it as inspiration not only from the current series and movies, but also from the comics written by Bruno Enna and drawn by Alessandro Perina, Andrea Freccero and Marco Mazzarello. I hope there are some who know about this. However, I drew in my own way in my own style, and this is like a redraw. Mickey is James T. Kirk, Minnie Mouse is Christine Chapel, Goofy is Spock, Ellsworth is Montgomery Scott, Horace is Leonard McCoy, Clarabelle Cow is Uhura and Eega Beeva is Hikaru Sulu. I hope you like this concept and this idea.

Yes, in tribute to: Star Wars Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uqQglwBzFT4 Music from Star Trek: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vSMeYe-sLhs&t=123s

I hope you like these drawings and ideas like this and crossover like this. Maybe I'll redraw this related to Star Wars and Star Trek, but another time.

Happy birthday once again Mickey and Minnie Mouse and if you like these drawings and this kind of crossover feel free to like and reblog this!

[da-rulah]

For your song game, Oh who is she by I monster is the song, line is A misty memory A haunting face, and maybe Cirrus Ghoulette with a papa mixed in for fun :)

I'm usually not very good with writing for the Ghoulettes - for some reason, I don't tend to get their likeness just right. However, since you asked for a Papa too, I have an idea... I don't know how you headcanon the ghouls to look, but I'm basing my description off "cirrus clouds" themselves. In my head, each Ghoul is reminiscent of their elements in how they look.

He read the incantation, clear as he could. His voice boomed in the chapel, ricocheting off the stone walls and echoing. Stood at the edge of the pentagram, candles at every point flickering, he swung his thurible back and forth in a rhythm that kept him chanting in time.

Copia needed another ghoul to join him, and so he repeated the same incantation he had practically memorised by now.

When the centre of the pentagram began to crumble and open up, the flames of hell licking at it's edges, Copia opened his eyes as he finished the last chant. In front of him he watched as a hand - a beautifully pale blue colour with long, unkept claws - curled it's way around the ridge of the pit.

A second hand curled around the edge, and slowly, a head began to rise from the fires.

Copia watched on in awe as her - yes, her - horns first began to rise, followed by the stark black eyes that followed, and the most beautifully structured face he had ever seen. Her hair, white and straight as a pin, cascaded freely long past the curve of her back, coming to end just behind her knees as she clawed her way out of the pit. Parts of it fell in front of her and over her breasts, creating a curtain between her nude body and the world she'd been summoned into.

His jaw fell slack, the swinging of the thurible slowing as he became completely enamoured with the being in front of him. She was so tall, slender but incredibly poised and controlled for a hell-being. As she stepped towards Copia and out of the pentagram, the pit behind her began to close up, the ritual effectively complete. Everything had gone according to plan - except for the way Copia had now fallen to his knees as she floated towards him...

He couldn't possibly explain why, but he felt as if he were in a trance state. Completely enraptured by her haunting beauty, all he could do was stare as she drew closer. Her graceful steps barely touched the ground, hovering as if she was most at home within the air than on the ground. She must be an air ghoulette, he thought to himself. She certainly glided like one.

She came to a stop barely a foot in front of Copia, studying him studiously. Most ghouls had a difficult time with the transition from Hell to the Earth, but she seemed to show an unusual sense of belonging, as if she owned the realm and Copia was hers instead of the truth - she was his.

She lifted one of her hands, reaching for Copia's cheek but she never touched him, barely an inch from his skin. But he could feel her still, like a breath of fresh summer air - warm, inviting.

The way she floated, her whole demeanour... she reminded Copia of a whispy little Cirrus cloud in the summer skies.

As her hand hovered above his skin, she smiled... Such a peaceful, affectionate smile. She moved her hand gently and Copia's head followed without question, chasing her touch when she'd never truly given it to him. Not yet, at least.

It took him a moment, but he soon snapped out of his trance and remembered where he was, who he was. He remembered the robe he'd brought to the chapel with him to cover the modesty of whoever he summoned, quickly scrambling to collect it.

He was filled with confusion as to how he had reacted to her presence. No other ghoul had had this effect, none other had rendered him speechless - immobile, even. But she was just so beeautiful. So different in every way.

Copia quickly came to stand behind her, gently laying the robe over her shoulders and covering her. As he did, her hand came to rest on top of his in a gentle thank you, her blackened eyes staring deeply into his. Once again, he was rendered useless, motionless. He lost himself in her stare, her kind and gentle smile.

She was unlike any Ghoul or Ghoulette he'd ever encountered, and he knew from that moment she was special to him.

She hadn't been sent to him, but gifted.

[farity]

Let’s Pretend, part 6

Aemond watched her laugh with her father before she reached the altar where he stood, in the little chapel built out of rock.  He took her hand from the older man’s, squeezed it because she was shaking.  She wore her mother’s veil, an intricate lace confection that her father drew back before taking his seat next to Lord Stoughton, and when she said the words, he could hear her voice trembling.

The Septon bound their hands together and he leaned in.  “Do not be nervous,” he whispered.  She nodded at him but he could still feel her shaking when he kissed her.

After dinner, her father pulled her aside and told her that he and Lord Stoughton were hunting in the morning and would spend the night at the lodge on the edge of the estate.  

Aemond waited in her bedchamber while her maid helped her change from the gown she’d worn to their wedding.  There was a quiet contentment in his heart, which he was not used to, and he knew it was because this - her - was everything that was right.

* * * * * 

“You look beautiful, my lady.”  your maid finished brushing out your hair and let the glossy waves fall over one shoulder.  She glanced at you and put down the brush.  “I know we have spoken of these things before, but do you have any questions about, you know, the bedding?”

You shook your head.  “No, I do not think so.  I know what will happen, in general terms.”

Milla smiled gently, “there might be a little pain when you are first joined, but it will soon go away,” she said, busying herself adjusting your nightgown.  “And there might be a few drops of blood but that is perfectly normal.”

She grabbed your hands, “I am very happy for you, my dear lady, the prince seems to be quite taken with you.”

“Thank you, Milla.”  To be perfectly honest, you were slightly terrified.  You loved Aemond and trusted him, but you hoped you wouldn’t do anything wrong.  “I do not wish to disappoint him.”

“My lady, you will not. Let him lead you but trust your instincts.”  She stepped back and smiled.  “I apologize, I should say, my Princess,” and she curtsied.

“Oh, gods no, please don’t do that.  I am already far too nervous for words.”

She turned and grabbed a cup of wine.  “Then have a sip, it will ease your nerves.”

* * * * * 

Aemond watched the door open and then she walked in.  She smiled shyly at him, her fingers playing with the embroidery on her nightgown.  He put down his cup, closed the distance between them and cradled her face in his hands, kissing her gently until she pressed herself against him and her arms went around his waist.

He could feel her nerves, feel her pulse jump when he started kissing her neck, the little shivers that went through her.  He pulled back, not wanting to rush her, but then she rose on her toes to kiss him and he decided to wrap an arm around her and take her to the bed.

“You are the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen,” he whispered as he sat with her on his lap,  “and the most precious thing I’ve held in my life.”

She smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed, and then began unlacing her nightgown, the silk ribbons giving way as the front fell open.  Aemond’s gaze landed on the circle of ruined flesh below her collarbone, where the arrow had pierced her and he brushed his lips over the spot.  “I will never forget that I almost lost you.”

She cupped his cheek, raising his face to hers.  “You did not lose me, Aemond.  You never will.” She pressed a kiss to his mouth, her hands holding his face with such tenderness that for a moment he felt tears begin to pool behind his eyes.  He decided to put the sentiment aside and focus on his wife, and he deepened the kiss, her little sighs and the way she innocently sank against him making him want all of her now.

He bared one shoulder, still kissing her, felt her shrug the other side off so she was now naked to the waist, and then her fingers began undoing the laces on his tunic.  That she loved him was a miracle, that she wanted him was beyond anything he had imagined.  Again, he pushed the thought aside and let her continue.  When she pulled away he saw how she bit down on her lip and slipped her hands under his tunic.  He reached back and pulled it over his head, and she was staring at him, her eyes darting over his chest and shoulders, and then her hands were following.  

He very much wanted to do the same to her, but he let her discover and explore and when she looked back up at him, he wanted to capture the look in her eyes and save it for a century’s worth of memories.  “Am I adequate?” he couldn’t help but ask, and she laughed.  “Aemond, really.  You must know what you look like.”

“I only care about what you think.”

“I think my husband is truly beautiful.”

He raised an eyebrow, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.  “Well, I do,” she added, running her hand down the muscles on his arm.  “And I am very glad my plan failed miserably,” she laughed again.

He’d never imagined a future for himself where there was laughter, and love, and here she was, the purest thing he’d ever seen, giving him both.  He pulled her to him, kissed her until she was breathless, and lowered her to the bed.

When he began pulling on her nightgown to slip it off completely, she started working on the ties on his breeches, her fingers shaking against his stomach.  She’d never get them undone, he thought, and helped her until he could push them down and kick them off.

There would be pain the first time for her, he knew, but she spread her legs willingly for him, let him settle his weight between her thighs and looked up at him with wide eyes.  He didn’t know what to tell her, he wanted to reassure her that it would not always be like this but could not find the words.  

“You look so very serious, Aemond,” she said, and smiled at him.

He was probably making her even more nervous.  “I take my duties as a husband very seriously”, he replied, smirking, and she laughed softly.  “I mean to leave no doubt that you are mine,” he added, nuzzling her cheek, and began pushing inside her.

She was tight and small and felt like glory itself around him, and he could feel her fingertips making the tiniest of brushes on his arms, over and over.  He could not wait any longer and drove his hips until he was seated fully inside her.  Her fingers tightened on his arms, the sting of her fingernails and her sharp inhale the first he had ever felt.

He pulled back slowly, felt her kiss his jaw as the tension started to leave her.  He took her mouth, the sweet warmth of it so freely given to him and only him.  Selfishly, he reveled in the knowledge she had never been anyone else’s, that he was the only one who would ever know her this way.  He began moving, delighted when her arms went around his neck.

"You feel so good,” he murmured, sliding his hand along her thigh, “I did not know you were this soft all over.”

There was a familiar sharp heat beginning to build at the base of his spine, and Aemond reached between her legs, biting down on a moan when she clenched around him at his touch.  

“Oh,” she breathed, and her eyelashes fluttered.  He did it again, now determined to watch her lose herself, and when she whimpered, he shoved aside his own need to concentrate on hers.  “Aemond.”

His fingers swirled, feeding the fire inside her, and she pressed her cheek against his, her thighs tensing.  She moaned, clinging to him, her hips rocking as she reached and reached.  “So beautiful,” he said, “so perfect.”

He wasn’t going to last much longer, and when she cried out, her inner muscles fluttering wildly around him, he drove his hips to the hilt and let his own release overtake him.  

* * * * * 

You had definitely not expected this.  You had hoped for a feeling of closeness, Aemond being tender with you, but not this feeling of complete wanton abandon.  He had not seemed displeased with you at any moment, so you hoped you hadn’t done anything wrong.  

“You are far too quiet,” he said against her temple, and then suddenly rose up on his elbow.  “Did I hurt you?”

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “there was but a moment of discomfort.”  You couldn’t help but asking, “was it acceptable for you?”

He looked down at you.  “It was more than I ever expected.”

“Aemond, I would appreciate truthfulness in this.  It was my first time and I probably blundered-”

He stopped your words with his mouth, and then pulled back to look at you.  “I speak the truth, doubting wife.  I may have lain with more experienced women before, but believe me, that was all about the physical aspect of it.”  He told you about the time Aegon took him to the Street of Silk, how he’d paid a fortune to have Aemond instructed in the ways of sex, how Aemond had hated every moment and had therefore sought a bedmate so very few times after that.

“I am sorry.  I do promise you I will never make you do anything you do not wish to do.”

He smiled broadly, his face lighting up in a way you knew hardly anyone ever saw.  “I shall take much comfort in your promise.”  He held you close and you wrapped yourself around him, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your cheek.

* * * * * 

Aemond awoke to find her curled up, her back against his chest, and himself wrapped around her, one arm across her waist, one leg over both of hers.  She was sleeping soundly, but he couldn’t help inhaling the familiar scent of her hair.  In her sleep, she sighed, wriggling her ass against him and he immediately hardened.

He moved her heavy hair to bare a shoulder and began placing soft kisses on her skin as he palmed her thigh and hip, pulling up her nightgown.  She stirred, placing a hand on top of his, and began turning toward him.

“Stay like this,” he murmured against her shoulder, and slipped his leg between hers, opening her up so he could touch her, and she arched against him.  “Give me your fingers,” he added, and when she did, he placed them on the knot of nerves between her legs.  She gasped as he began moving her fingers, circling and gliding over and over until she was breathing hard.  “Keep doing that.”

He slipped his fingers deep inside her and she whimpered.  “Aemond.”

“Do not stop.”

She gasped when he curled his fingertips, began moving her fingers faster as he continued reaching inside her.  Her hips had begun to rock in time with her fingers, and she was making little sounds that went straight to his already hard cock.  She was so close, and he bit down on her shoulder, fingertips curling.  She cried out, clenching around him as the orgasm claimed her.  

He couldn’t wait any longer, turned her onto her belly and pulled her hips back before entering her as slowly as he could manage.  She was still contracting, and he closed his eyes, trying to steady himself.  She was resting her forehead on her fists, whimpering as he began to snap his hips.  “Fuck, you feel so good,” he rasped out, barely holding on.

It wasn’t going to take long, despite his best intentions.  She was soft and pliant and soon he was spiraling into the sweet bliss of release.  He collapsed next to her, pulled her against him.  

Once he could breathe normally, he kissed her shoulder again.  “Good morning, wife.”  He felt her smile as she reached back and caressed his face.

“Good morning, indeed.”

* * * * * 

“It will be fine, she will know you are under my protection.”

You looked at him with apprehension.  “I will trust you, Aemond, but know that this is most terrifying.”

They turned the corner and in front of them, in the great field, was Vhagar.  “Let me carry you,” he said, “it will be another way of letting her know that you are mine.”

You did not protest, because faced with Vhagar, you didn’t really care what it took for the great dragon to understand you were not to be its next meal.  He lifted you easily, and you heard her move her head back and forth as she took in her rider approaching.

“Vhagar, lykiri,” Aemond began crooning, his voice soothing.  To you, anyway.  When the dragon fixed her eyes on you, you felt like the slightest wrong move could end in your demise.  Aemond kept talking, and you swore you would learn High Valyrian in order to understand what he was saying.  “I am telling her you are my wife, that you belong to me.”

The dragon bared her teeth and you buried your face in Aemond’s neck.  

“Let me kiss you,” he whispered, and you immediately raised your lips to his.  His hands tightened on you as he deepened the kiss, tugging on your lower lip before he let go of you, placing you on your feet.

“Here.”  He took your hand, placed it on one of the massive scales on Vhagar’s side.  

“She is so warm,” you murmured.  “She is a wonder, Aemond.”

When you turned back to him, he was smiling proudly.  You caressed his cheek, and then he guided you to the rope steps hanging down her side.  “I will go after you.  Once you get up there, sit on the saddle and I will sit behind you.”

Just getting up to where the saddle was high on Vhagar’s back, gave you such a magnificent view of the area surrounding you.  Aemond had explained what would happen - he would do a couple of turns low over your home to get you used to flying, but then you’d soar high in the sky in order to get to King’s Landing.

You quickly sat, scooting forward so Aemond could sit behind you.  It was actually comfortable enough, and he began to expertly secure every strap.  With your riding clothes, it was easy for him to not only secure your waist to the saddle, but also to secure the straps going across each of your thighs.  “Here, slip this between your legs and the straps, it will provide some cushioning.”  He secured himself while you did as he indicated, and then he kissed the side of your neck.  “I never thought I would bring my wife home on Vhagar.”  You smiled and turned to face him. 

“I never imagined I would get to be on a dragon, let alone the most magnificent of all.”

“Are you ready?”

You nodded.  “Yes.”

You inhaled sharply as Vhagar rose, her steps shaking you in your bones before she leapt and the world began racing by you, so smoothly it was like a dream.  You felt Aemond wrap an arm around your waist.  “All good?”

Smiling widely, you turned, “this is wonderful!”

He kissed your neck again.  “Like I said.  Fearless and brave.”

“Well,” you shrugged, “I know I am in the care of the most brilliant of warriors and dragon riders.”  

You leaned back, secure in your husband’s embrace as he deftly guided Vhagar to King’s Landing.

* * * * * 

“Well, well, you did find her after all.”

“Aegon, she is now my wife,” Aemond said, a warning note to his voice.  

Aegon’s jaw dropped.  “I thought it was all theater!”  He turned as the new princess walked in and made an exaggerated bow.  “dearest sister, I welcome you to the family, now that you have been wedded and bedded.”

“Aegon!”  Aemond said sharply.

“I did not pay good money for you to be such a prude, brother.  Has he told you all about his, uh, extensive instruction?”

She glared at Aegon, wishing she could slap that silly smirk off his face.  “Of course he has.  Is there anything you need here, dearest brother?” she had a pleasant smile on her lovely features, but Aemond saw how it did not reach her eyes.

Aegon, having expected more of a reaction from her, pursed his lips and shook his head, taking his sweet time to walk out the door.

She went to one of the trunks that had been placed in Aemond’s bedchamber - their bedchamber now - and began digging around.

“I shall speak with him.”

“Aemond,” she said, not turning, “do not worry about it, he wants the attention.  If you make a thing of it he will just keep needling you.”

“I thought he was needling you.”

At this she turned, smiling.  “Why would he be needling me, he barely knows me.”  She went up to him, wrapped her arms around his waist.  “What time do we need to be ready for dinner? I do not wish to be late.”

He grabbed her and kissed her.  “Unfortunately, soon, although I would much rather keep you in my bed until tomorrow.”

“That sounds delightful,” she said, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him back.  

* * * * * 

Tagging:

@arryn-nyx   @girlwith-thepearlearring    @greenowlfactif  @hydrationqueensworld    @megzdoodle   @melsunshine  @queenofshinigamis     @throughgoeshamilton   @travelingmypassion    @watercolorskyy  @zillahvathek

@hb8301   @kaemond-zafiro​    @arcielee

Tagging for this fic:

@shros3b  @malfoytargaryen @fedeffy @randomdragonfires  @issshhh  @opheliaas-stuff   @brianochka    @devils-blackrose​  @wolflinkpaws​  ​   @fangirlninja67​   @dahlias-and-marigolds​ @fedeffy  @smailaway   @wasntpriscilla

[caer-gai]

Gareth grieves, written for my writing class last semester but I just found it again.

Gareth was so out of it he didn’t even hear Kay’s approach until the senechal was beside him.

“Sir Gareth,” the formality in Kay’s tone wavered with an undercurrent of concern Gareth had long since trained himself to pick up on.

“I’ll be there in a moment.”

Kay sighed. Gareth waited for him to leave. He didn’t.

“I understand it will be hard for you to go in there, after everything.”

“I have a duty.”

Gareth didn’t mention his other duty, as a brother, to stay here with Aggravain until the funeral pyre was lit. To avenge his brother’s death. To honor someone he loved but couldn’t support, couldn’t believe in, couldn’t praise. He’d be expected to say nice things at the funeral, and the more he thought the less he could come up with and the guiltier he felt about it.

The warm weight of a cloak was draped over his shoulders. Gareth didn’t have the heart to look up and see more of that carefully concealed concern.

“If it would be better for you, you would be welcome at our table tonight,” Kay offered carefully. Gareth nodded his acknowledgement. He couldn’t accept of course. Why would he even want to?

The food would be cold. It wouldn’t be artfully arranged, just a mix of whatever they had left. The ale (never wine) would be weak and nothing would be fit for a Prince. It wouldn’t be a place for him. (It was the only place he felt real.)

Gareth stayed in the church a long while after. He felt he should hold Aggravain’s hand, should offer his older brother some comfort in all of this. The hand was cold and stiff, and it wasn’t Aggravain, not anymore, and that made Gareth cry again.

Nearing midnight he heard the feast breaking up. Even after such a solemn occasion many were drunk, and many of the drunk were loud. One voice in particular rose above the others as it approached the chapel.

Gareth let go of Aggravain- of the corpse's hand and stood, drawing Kay’s cloak around him. He listened carefully, and was able to make out quiet responses at the pauses in between his eldest brother’s ranting.

Just Gawain and Gaheris then. Probably for the better, Gareth didn’t think he could face Mordred right now. The door slammed open and Gareth flinched before drawing himself to his full height and forcing his face to go blank.

He didn’t meet his brothers’ eyes as they stumbled in, or when they froze at the sight of him. The silence drew on to the point of discomfort, though no weapons were drawn yet.

“Your Majesties,” Gareth dipped his head in quick greeting. If he could stick to they’re titles he could ignore the chasm that widened between him and his brothers, “I was just leaving.”

Gareth almost made it out the door. Almost. But then Gawian caught his arm in a surprisingly vice-like grip. Gareth knew better than to struggle. Even at night, drunk and swaying, Gawain was stronger than him.

“Gareth,” Gawain whispered. More a strangled prayer than any kind of enraged hiss. Gareth risked a glance at his brother- his king’s- face. Gawain isn’t angry, he’s grieving. There was a spark of hope in his eyes that had Gareth folding right into a hug. Gawain clutched him close, like something precious. Gareth hugs back.

He catches Gaheris watching from the threshold. He doesn’t say anything, with his voice or his face, but Gareth knows his brother is breaking. So Gareth holds out a hand and puts on a small smile, and waits.

Soon all three of them are tangled together in an odd mess of limbs. Gareth closed his eyes and tried to pretend it could all be okay, that they would ever be whole again.

That he would ever be whole again.

----

By the time Gareth stumbles down to the kitchens, red-eyed and numb, the servants have finished dining. The few who are still there cleaning up watch him with sorry eyes. Several come forward to give their condolences. There’s enough food and ale left for him, and Lucan sits with him while he eats, keeping the conversation light. The food is cold and the ale is worse than Gawain’s breath, but it tastes like home.

Gareth finds Kay scrubbing out the huge pots they use for stew, and tries to give the cloak back. Kay waves him off and tells him to keep it.

A week later Gareth is buried in it.

[bretongirlwrites]

Julianne, who entirely overdid herself in defeating Mannimarco, was brought back for her convalescence to the chapel in Bruma. Her magicka having been entirely spent, she is forbidden from doing magic for a bit, so as not to overexert herself again.

--------

‘Ah! it’s marvellous to see you up and about, Miss Traven,’ said Cirroc interrupting my nothing, ‘but for all our sakes, don’t overdo it, will you?’

I had already tramped over to the opposite wall, and back, and repeated the action; I had already, for want of other things to do, stretched my arms and combed my hair; and all this having tired me beyond what I thought was possible, I’d taken to leaning against the wall and staring at it as if there were a window there. Father had brought me a small stack of books; but they were some, dry, on theology, and all the rest on magic; and magic was my damnable prohibition, – for a few days, Father had beseeched me, while your font of magicka heals, – you don’t want to overdo it.

‘I don’t think,’ said I desperately, ‘that I can underdo things. I am going insane in here. O how do you live like this!’

‘By appreciation of simplicity,’ said Cirroc shrugging, ‘and devotion to the Nine who provide us our every need, – but I know you are not the clerical sort. I shall see tomorrow if Novaroma has anything lighter to read, or the library, –’

‘I think I’m beyond even Waughin Jarth’s help now,’ said I; but good-humouredly; and cast a last glance out of my non-window before collapsing onto the bed: ‘oh! you’re a mage, Cirroc, it’s like cutting off your damn arm. I am going insane!’ said I, again, –

‘Only another three weeks,’ said Cirroc chuckling sympathetically.

He must have thought that Father had informed me of this, – that though Father had seen my sinking disappointment, he’d not melted in the face of it and understated, – he must not, in short, have suspected that Father had told me: you must not do any magic for a few days. A few days! and I’d battered at the bars of my invisible dungeon and protested and he’d put an arm around my shoulder and said that everything would be all right, –

‘Three weeks!’ I cried.

‘Then,’ said he, ‘ – no doubt you’ll be back at the University by then, – you will have a strict regimen to get your magic back without straining yourself, –’

‘Three weeks!’

‘Think of it as a muscle, Miss Traven,’ said he, ‘have you ever sprained your foot, perhaps? It needs rest, and a slow return to normal, –’

I am sure that sparks might have flown from all my hair and fingers, – had the thing not been banned, – were the font on which I drew, so out of reach, that even had I wanted to, I’d have made a half-glowing cinder at best, and watched it die on the same bed I’d barely survived in. 

‘Three weeks!’ I murmured: and buried my face in the pillow.

He thought at first that I’d burst into tears: moved closer: but when I raised my head, I was as surprised as he was, to be laughing. Laughing, – because it was silly, – because it was trivial, – because I’d lived weeks, months in despair, three days in hell! – and now that all was said and done, I complained that I was deprived of a pleasure, for but three weeks, – a small repercussion, for killing a man, and bringing light all upon the world again!

Father had said, honestly though not without some paternal pride, that: you’ll be one of the greatest mages of the era, when they write the history-books. Here sat the greatest mage of the era, staring at a wall, with not the least bit of magic in her fingertips! o what a sorry pathetic unmoving sight I may be, now all was said and done, – 

‘Three weeks,’ said I leaning back: ‘a most inconvenient prescription. Thank you, doctor.’

‘It will fly by,’ returned Cirroc. 

‘Like a new alterationist and his novice levitation-spell,’ said I: ‘well! Cirroc, – I won’t turn my nose up to a bit of Waughin Jarth, –’

‘I’ll have a look tomorrow,’ he promised and made to leave.

‘It had better be the complete works,’ said I, ‘that will occupy me for a day or two,’ and when he closed the door, I closed my eyes still laughing, – and you will none of you believe it, but I was happy enough for three weeks, – happy that it was over, and I was alive, – alive enough, that my mind, unfettered, raced to complain!...

[emsuemsu]

@hprecfest day 11: dark fic

Dark fics are oxygen to me. I can't survive without them. The darker the better, let it be so dark I can’t see anymore. The more uncomfortable a fic makes me the more I love it. I do frequent dead dove doomscrolls on ao3, I am a bit picky though what comes to the stuff I read. Mind the tags before slamming these down and enjoy:

Blessed Are The Lambs (Do You Walk With Gabriel?) by @cannibalschism 🖤 50,021 words, draco/harry

It's been eight years of this. Eight years since the tug that drew Harry like the tide pulls the earth towards the Camerlengo and Vatican City. Eight years since he'd last felt what it was to think freely and not around the wretched, awful din. Eight years since the bars of his gilded cage had slammed shut around him all while the Camerlengo spun the key on his conniving finger. But it was today when Draco Malfoy walked into St. Peter's Basilica, looking so young as though the years had passed him by, and smelling like pennies and dead leaves.

I will NEVER stop yelling about this fic. This is one of my absolute all-time favorites, it's unbelievable. It's a beautiful piece of art that the frescos of Sistine Chapel does not compare (trust me been there done that). Reading this for the first time I swear I ascended. I found god and god found me and I'm not even close to being religious. It's really gory, dark, twisted, but in the end it is a love story. The author referencing Draco's scent to "pennies and dead leaves" is probably the most clever thing I've ever read in my entire life. Dead people do smell like dead leaves (and more) and Draco indeed is technically dead in this fic. I'm honestly in awe of this story. It's unforgettable. It haunts me in the best way possible.

it is not a house by @brightluminae 🖤 43,388 words, draco/harry

There are many stories that can happen in a forgotten house, in the middle of the Arctic. Heart-warming tales about human connection and finding the essence of the self. Epic love stories that defy reason. Warnings about the hubris of human explorations. This is both none of the above and a bit of all. This is a horror story.

I think it’s criminal that this fic only has a little over 1,3k hits and only 27 kudos on ao3. This fic deserves everything and more. I love horror as a genre, and the eerie vibes of this fic are immaculate. I was holding my breath from the first few words of this fic. The writing is opulent and amazing. I feel like I was sucked into the house of horrors with them. Their dynamics in this fic are out of this world, and this story has a layer after layer after layer. This is one of the biggest mindfucks I’ve come across lately and I loved every minute of going through it. If you’re even a little bit into (psychological) horror this is a definite must-read. It’ll leave you second-guessing everything and everyone

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

A collection of Hinny-centric drabbles, microfics and one-shots written for the Ginny Lovers Discord server 5-Year Ginnversary Bingo game.

Chapter 11 - Pots and Kettles

Harry and Ginny get a taste of their own medicine at Hannah and Neville's wedding.

Rating - Teen and upwards

Read on AO3 from the beginning or continue below the cut for the latest chapter (1376 words)

“Okay! Two bottles of beer, and two glasses of white wine!” Ron put the tray down on the table, then frowned. “Where’s Ginny gone?”

“She went to the loo,” Harry told him, helping himself to one of the beers. “She won’t be long.”

“Hopefully she won’t get as lost as I did,” commented Hermione, as she sipped her wine. “This place is like a rabbit warren, it’s really easy to take a wrong turn. Beautiful for a wedding, though.”

Harry had to agree. He’d been surprised when Neville told him that Hannah had set her heart on getting married at a Muggle castle, but apparently she’d grown up close by, and had always loved it. They’d been able to arrange to hire the place with no Muggle staff present (Harry still strongly suspected a Confundus charm might have been involved, despite Neville’s perfectly innocent expression as he insisted otherwise), and even an inveterate realist like Harry could see how romantic the setting was, with the ancient castle looking out over perfectly manicured lawns and rose gardens. 

The ceremony itself had been held in a small chapel on the grounds, then the assembled guests had decamped to a large hall inside the main building for a banquet. Now, as day turned to night, the evening’s festivities were well underway. The furniture had been pushed aside to make space for a dancefloor, and Harry, Ron and Hermione huddled around a table close to the bar, chatting easily.

Eventually, Harry spotted Ginny making her way back across the room. He couldn’t help but admire the way her peacock blue dress set off her coppery hair and skimmed her slender figure, but as she drew closer, he realised she looked rather shaken. She dropped heavily into the chair next to him, grabbed the remaining wine glass from the tray and downed half of it in several long gulps.

“Woah there, Gin!” Harry put his hand on her arm. “Everything okay? What happened?”

“I am mentally scarred, that’s what happened,” she announced, waving her hand dramatically. “I got a bit turned around on my way back, opened a door that I thought led to the main hallway and… well, Neville and Hannah were in there. They were… Oh, Merlin, they were… consummating the marriage!”

It took Harry a moment to process what she’d just told him. “You just walked in on Neville and Hannah having sex?” he asked, incredulous.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her husband. “Yes, Harry, that is the traditional meaning of the term ‘consummating the marriage’.”

Harry clapped his hand over his mouth, then allowed it to slide down to his chin. “Oh, Merlin - how embarrassing!”

“I know!” breathed Ginny, eyes wide. “I mean, I don’t know how I’m even going to look either one of them in the face ever again.”

An awful thought occurred to Harry. “Did they see you?” 

Ginny considered it for a moment. “I… I don’t think so. They seemed quite… wrapped up in the moment.”

“What did you do?” he asked, feeling her mortification radiating off her.

“I just sort of squeaked and closed the door again.” She shook her head slightly, as if trying the shake off the memory.

“I wonder why they didn’t lock it?” 

“That’s what I thought!” exclaimed Ginny. “A locking charm would have taken literally seconds. I mean, anyone could have walked in!”

Harry let out a brief huff of amusement. “Anyone did!”

“And it wasn’t even the bridal suite,” Ginny told him, dropping her voice to a more conspiratorial tone. “It was some sort of laundry room, not private at all.”

Just then, there was a loud snort from the other side of the table. Harry looked up and saw that both Ron and Hermione were struggling to contain their amusement. His best friends saw him looking and when they met each other’s eyes, neither one of them could hold it in any longer, each dissolving into fits of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Harry asked them, puzzled.

The pair of them only seemed to find that even more hilarious. Ron was laughing so hard he was gasping for breath and Hermione actually had tears running down her cheeks. 

It took Ron a few moments to compose himself sufficiently to answer. “You two! Honestly, can you even hear yourselves?”

“Yes,” chimed Hermione, fishing a tissue out of her handbag and dabbing at her eyes. “Of all the people to be scandalised about catching someone in flagrante delicto in an inappropriate location!”

Harry looked at Ginny, and saw that she looked equally confused. Clearly there was something they were both missing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Harry ventured, cautiously. 

Ron looked at Harry as though he had two heads. “You’re kidding?” 

Harry shrugged and shook his head. Ron and Hermione exchanged another glance

“Um,” began Hermione, cautiously. “it’s just that… Well, it’s usually you, isn’t it?”

“Us?” choked Ginny.

“Yeah,” added Ron. “I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve walked into a room and seen something I really shouldn’t have.”

“But… we don’t! I mean, we’re not…” spluttered Harry.

“Harry,” said Hermione, in a tone that Harry thought she might use with a five year old. “You do. And you are.”

“Come on, mate,” added Ron. “Remember that year when we were all living at Grimmauld? I walked in on you more than once in the drawing room, you literally never remembered to lock the bathroom door, and I lost count of the number of times I had to make a sharp exit from the kitchen.”

“And that’s only the times when we were at home!” Hermione reminded him. “You’re lucky it was me that walked into the pantry at the Burrow that time and not Molly! Luna threatened to draw a diagram of what she saw in the loo at the Leaky Cauldron at the DA reunion last year, and don’t think we didn’t all know what you were up to when you disappeared at George and Angelina’s wedding!”

Harry felt Ginny’s hand squeeze his under the table. He turned his head to look at her and  saw that she had turned quite an alarming shade of pink, and was quite certain that he probably looked much the same.

Mercifully, Harry was saved from further mortification by the tinkling of a spoon against a glass. The room fell silent, as Hannah’s father announced that the Bride and Groom were about to cut the cake. 

“They’ve finished then,” smirked Ron, earning him an elbow in the ribs from Hermione. 

Neville led his new wife onto the dancefloor, where a large, three tiered wedding cake had been set up on a trolley. Instead of a knife, someone handed Neville a sword, much to the amusement of the guests. 

Hermione grabbed Ron’s hand and hauled him to his feet. “Come on! I want to get a better view!” 

Harry turned to Ginny and gestured towards the dancefloor. “Do you want to follow them?”

Ginny shuddered. “I love Nev and Hannah to bits, but right now, all I can think about is the bits of them I’ve now seen and really wish I hadn’t.”

They sat together in silence for a few moments. “Are we really that bad?” Ginny asked him

Harry shrugged. “I didn’t think so. But you have to admit, Ron and Hermione put together a pretty damning case.”

Ginny nodded. “We do seem to have acquired something of a reputation, don’t we?” After a few more beats of silence, Harry felt Ginny’s hand leave his, and meander slowly up his thigh. He tilted his head to look down at her and saw a truly wicked glint in her eyes. “I can’t help but think it would be a real shame not to live up to it.”

Across the room, there was a cheer as Neville and Hannah skewered the cake with the sword. It was swiftly whisked away to be cut into portions, and once the floor was clear, the newlyweds took up their positions for the first dance.

Harry’s lips twitched. The other guests were all focused on the happy couple. Surely no one would notice if they slipped away for a little while? “Did I hear you mention a laundry room?”

[thecunnydiaries]

18th Wednesday

Raining and hazy all day and blowing fresh.

In the morning Watch arranged Cables: and filled and Stood in the entrance of the Bay of Islands and a very dangerous entrance it is of a misty morning - but fortunately the wind was right after us and we made a very Successfull passage of the Bay to an Anchorage about 4 Miles above the Town and brought up at about ½ past 10 AM. A more appropriate name in my oppinion could not have been given to this Bay. It is a large Bay with inumerable Island Rocks detached from the main Land and thrown up as it were in romantic confusion. The Town of "Kooraricco" lies on the left of the Bay, and Seems like a Straggling village in the form of a half Moon. The land on both Sides appears to be entirely covered with scrubb with the exception of a few plots of green interspersed as it were by accident in different nooks. There is here and there an house on both Sides in apparently the most Lonely Situation. The natives who were in the Customs Boat informed me in broken English that every thing was very dear. There was very little fresh beef and that was imported: fresh pork 4d per lbs, No Yams and very few potatoes, Flour £3-10[s]-0[d] per sack; and by what I could elicit the Missionary seems to have a great hand in everything and if all be true to whom great Monopoly must be attributable. There are Several Vessels laying in the Bay and River amongst which is a American 18 Gun Brig and a american Whaler, a fine Vessel with nine beautifull Whale Boats triced up. Nearly abreast of where we a lying there is what is to be rarely met with that is a vessel fitted up [as] a grog Shop lying in the middle of Stream. I thought at first She was a chapel.

Campbell's notes:

Bay of Islands - Entered between Cape Wiki, Latitude 35°09'S, Longitude 174°08'E, and Cape Brett, Latitude 35°10'S, Longitude 174°20'E.

Ross, Voyage, II. p. 59. ‘Furling all our square sails, we ran before the wind, and, guided by the admirable chart of Captain Fitzroy, entered the narrows of the river Kawa Kawa [latitude 35°19'S, Longitude, 174°07'E], the ships stirring the mud up as they passed over the bar, on which there was rather less water than they drew, and anchored about a mile and a half from its entrance at 10 30 AM, in five fathoms.’

Kooraricco - Charted as Kororarika, Latitude 35°15'S, Longitude 17°40'E.

American 18 gun brig - The Yorktown, Captain Aulick. Ross, Voyage. II. p. 60.

[mail-posting]

i hail asylum screenshots

these are details on specific cells, the one thing i'm drawn to is why only one cell has a light? like maybe the others got pulled out/fell/something with the decrepitation but if they did why is this one still here and working??

god the fact that these are faded would mean they're Older. which means they were most likely written by the asylum patients (which at some point in time was MAINLY CHILDREN)

again. are we supposed to ignore the fact children drew this? or?? (this is the chapel location) also why is a child aware of a noose thats also. concerning

i know i've been saying this a lot but this was an orphanage!!! why!!!!! also i think its interesting that even though emily went through with it for her volunteer work, she seemed heavily skeptical the whole time and even said "hey i dont think there's anything wrong with these kids". i think their "issues" came from shitty treatment or whatever so they were essentially getting shocked for NO reason

i also think it's interesting that despite the change to an asylum, they kept the playroom?

this is also some of the religious imagery stuff i was talking about

and finally, the fact that every child's drawing seems to be something "sinister" or flat out horrid?? i'm not sure exactly what the drawings talked abt here look like but i think thats. quite a sign if not a single child is drawing something that ISNT concerning

Oh godd that's so interesting actually!!!! I think I could make a moodboard of images that fit the place—

any mention of the cages? I'm curious to see

Also the playroom.......... It's interesting how... Childlike everything is, given that they now have adult patients. Unless Emil is some sort of exception, which i doubt because I think Alice was an adult when she was in there (Maybe that's part of the reason they drug patients so much - because while they aren't children the staff can certainly drag them down to a child's level so they're easier to "handle")