#stranger to mispronunciation was a fair one

[ravencromwell]

hi! not sure if appropriate to ask, but is your username derived from thomas cromwell at all? cheers, from one considering cracking into the diarmaid maccullough biography if i can lift the damn thing

A. I love! this question. B. GOD I _wish. My username came, very pedestrianly, from a fanfic oc created in the early 2000's. I remember nothing! of this oc except it was shared between @blindbibliophile and I. I dunno if you were around in fandom back then, but the usernames on fanfiction.net were shudders just utter mishmash gobbledygook. We both wanted something that sounded kinda comparable to a human while having a properly _exotic flare. GOD we were both internet babies with no business out of swaddling clothes much less let off the leading strings :). So we coin-flipped for who would get to use the name, as I recall--she'll correct me if I'm wrong. I barely produced anything with it, but was fortunate enough to pick up fannish connections via leaving lavishly verbose fic comments for other people that evolved into convos/friendships (going around sprinkling comments like a fairy overburdened with rainbows and pixie dust will forever be my fav way of interacting in any and every fandom and I'm fortunate very few people have asked me to stop :). When I transitioned over here, I kept it for continuity with those folks and because I'm terribly, terribly fond of all the shared history with one of my fav humans.

Y'know, for all the years I've been a Thomas Cromwell geek--I don't remember when I read and adored Wolf Hall, but it was before 2015, and I have yet to read Mirror of Light because. I. just can't watch him die via headsman, if that tells you how insanely attached I am to the fictionalized bastard of her work--I'd never put the connection together, and am almost sheepish in answering this because for just a second there, I seemed so much cleverer than I was ;)! But! you have no idea how happy you've made me <33333333333333333 because oh! oh my god I didn't know that biography existed I now have flashing hearts in my eyes and need it immediately (he was kinda a religious zealot holy shit!!!!!!! with administrative competence I already found the Mantel version hot apparently I'm gonna find the real one that way, too. I have a weakness for revolutionaries--in whatever form-- with bastard morals, particularly when they lived long enough ago their bastard morals aren't affecting my friends and family and I can crush in peace :)

[twofacedbelief]

Poly soulmates,,, what about Deceit x Remus and Deceit x Roman?? (Like where they’re both dating Deceit) where their soulmate’s name is written on you?

Roceitmus! Heck yes, I love that ship.

For years, Roman and Remus think that it’s a weird coincidence that both of them have a soulmate named Dara. According to some basic research by their parents (that is to say, they read a Wikipedia article), the name Dara exist in many languages. The pronunciation changes depending on the language, as does the meaning, and if the name is considered feminine, masculine or unisex.

They tease and joke a lot about who will find their Dara first. It’s not exactly a common name in the states, so they are both aware of the chance that they’ll meet their brother’s soulmate before their own. While some people cover their soulmate names, the twins have always had theirs on display, in hope of maybe running into someone who knows someone. There are weirder ways to find your soulmate.

Then one day Roman and Remus are meeting up with some of their friends for food at 3am. They were awake and hungry and the best ideas come at 3am.

Virgil and Remy - the only of their friends to be awake at 3am, ever - show up, a stranger walking in between them, with Remy’s arm casually around their shoulders.

The stranger works part-time as a bartender in the same bar as Virgil and Remy, and had just gotten off their shift when Remy texted them about food.

They introduce themself as “Dee, they/them pronouns, and if you make one racist joke I will break your nose.”

Dee is of Thai descent and has absolutely no time for racist bullshit.

Roman and Remus both immediately take a liking to Dee. The three of them end up having a deep conversation about the psychology in horror musicals and how the songs play into the narrative.

Remy is just. Smirking. Virgil is downing way too much coffee.

“Hey, Dara, I need to get V home before he crashes from the caffeine.” Remy says after a while, because they’re a lil shit who likes to meddle. To be fair, the should get Virgil home.

“Dara?” the twins repeat, doing a fairly good job pronouncing the name, and immediately looking towards Dee’s arms. Which are covered.

“I prefer Dee” Dee says. It may be because mispronunciation sucks. “And why should I show you my arms? I just met you.”

Roman and Remus just. pointedly put their arms on the table so that Dee can read their soulmate names.

Dee rolls up one sleeve to reveal Remus. And while Remus is being way too loud for 4am in the morning, Dee rolls up his other sleeve to reveal Roman.

That shuts the twins up pretty quickly. They had never considered that they would have the same soulmate.

“I need some sleep, but text me when you two get your shit together.” Dee says, and scribble their number on a napkin.

Remus texts them the next day, because eh fuck it, Dee was cool, and he doesn’t really care about having the same soulmate as Roman.

Roman texts a few days later because he needed longer to process, and get over the whole “soulmates can only be monogamous” bullshit

(If our history has been so successful in covering up homosexual relationships etc, then you bet that this soulmate world has covered up polyamorous relationships. The only good thing here is that homophobia never existed.)

Different people have different rhythms and stuff, so the twins quickly understand that the healthies is for them to take it in their own time. Remus immediately becomes best friends with Dee, texting all the time. Roman prefers meeting up in person and getting to know Dee that way. They hang out all three too, watching movies, having debates, getting into stupid shit.

Oh, and Dara is Khmer for star. You bet that the twins give Dee tons of star-related pet names after they learn that.

[tonightinthewasteland]

     The Appalachian mountain range was hushed with the early breaths of winter as it rolled in on low hanging clouds. The sun was almost gone and the temperature had already dipped nearly ten degrees by the time they stepped into the yellow light of Sunny Top station. Casey bypassed the vendor bot and workbenches to make a flying leap for a grand four-poster bed resting regally at the back of the station, unconcerned with what the seasons might have done to the integrity of its wood frame. He lost his hat mid-flight and landed with a bounce that only made the bed groan with abuse. Rolling pleasantly, the mattress felt bony with frequent love but it wasn't, he thought with a wide grin, the cold ground. He rolled over at the sound of approaching boots and found Nate a few steps back surveying the space critically. Casey shimmied himself into a princely reclining position and propped his head up to watch the older man with some amusement.

Nate moved cautiously from one end of the space to another, taking in the grim decor, living details, and landscape around them. His eye caught Casey's, who smiled brightly at him, and he returned it with a frown of deep displeasure.

Casey didn't have to ask Nate what bothered him, he knew. Environmental awareness and deduction was a newly perfected skill that Casey acquired unwillingly by way of Nate himself. The room had been ingested and deciphered almost instantly upon arrival. They both saw the lack of exits, the blind hill behind them, the proximity of the road, the attraction of Vendorbots, grotesque signs of raider occupancy, and the barrel fire still burning tall and hot. The only difference between them was that Casey didn't care.

Nate had moved out the station, no doubt to scrutinize the high and low road, but Casey knew he'd find no one. If a weary traveler hadn't stayed the night then they were in a hurry to make it to the valley below. They could even be halfway down the mountain by now, thought Casey. Even so, Nate came back looking just as pinched in the face as he had before.

"...all’s fair in love and war, commander?" Casey asked playfully, drawing Nate's gaze with the curl of his voice.

"What?" The older man's voice was coated in road dust.

"Are the seas calm, Captain?" Casey teased again. "Or Is there smoke on the horizon? Are we safe?" He asked finally.

"We are never safe," Nate said harshly.

Casey just hummed behind his smiling mouth in acknowledgment. He had stopped taking offense at his companion's matter-of-fact-ness months ago. 

The older soldier hadn't lowered his gun and remained intense between the bed and doorway, clearly restless and untrusting of their surroundings. Casey palmed the mattress invitingly, speaking with sincere concern.

"Lay down, Wooyf, you're tired."

Nate, who had been watching the doorway, turned back towards the bed. His face remained solemn but his eyes had grown softer. He didn't bother to correct Casey's natural mispronunciation of Wolf.

"You sleep. I have things to do first."

The young man blinked and pouted thoughtfully before throwing himself dramatically against the mattress, letting his legs and arms drop akimbo as he moaned sensuously.

"Oooh, Nate come to me! Warm me with your big bad wooyf body!" He kept his eyes shut serenely for effect and didn't see Nate roll his.

"Sleep while you can, Casey. I will be back."

Casey sat up quickly. It was his turn to frown, which must have been severe because the disapproval was enough to halt Nate midstep and regard the Scribe curiously.

"I just will be in the next room. Don't worry." He said reassuringly, misinterpreting Casey's facial cue. The older man went around the corner and a few moments later brought the whirr of a pedal saw along with the commons sounds of a man at work. 

..

If there was an activity Casey couldn't come to peace with, it was sleeping alone. Much of his childhood was spent wedged between his parents like a puppy, fueling animosity with his constant need for their comfort. Until the bombs came down. His parents had not been warm people before the vault but inside with the world falling around them, they surrendered drowsy kisses and the occasional admissions if love, to him and each other.

Outside his family suite, young adulthood saw six years of domestic companionship in a suite of his own until the rug of monogamy was pulled out from beneath him just shy of reclamation day. He then slept the last month of his seemingly healthy relationship starting at an indifferent back, one cold foot of space between them that felt ten miles wide. He woke up alone the day the vault opened and had slept that way ever since.

Alone in the back of a station, he let himself roll into the groove worn into the mattress by strangers and brought up his knees, willing the concave circle to become nest-like and warm. Exhaustion snuck up on him in the half-light, bringing with it an unforgiving winter draft that rocked him to sleep.

..

Casey woke at the sound of a magazine snapping into the chamber. With catlike clarity he rolled to his knees, digging for his switchblade with a thumb stuck down his boot.  It was full dark and the world was still, save for the bouncing shadows brought by firelight, and Nate held up both hands in surrender. 

“At ease.” He soothed from his seat near the fire barrel looking mildly surprised and marginally impressed, 10mm in one hand. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

The Scribe let out a shaky breath of relief and relaxed theatrically, dropping like a ragdoll back into the mattress. 

“No, no...” The young man sighed. “It was just a dream is all.” His muscles protested at their release and he moaned. How long had he been curled up like that? 

Nate withheld comment and grunted in understanding. He’d had those sorts of dreams before and resumed cleaning his gun in respectful silence. As he shook out a rag, he didn't see Casey grin up at the ceiling but he heard the smile in his voice.

“Want to know what I was dreaming about?”

He grunted noncommittally.

Casey rolled on to his stomach and was watching his companion closely now. Nate brood over an old gun, leaning to firelight to catch all the details of his work. Even in the orange glow as shadows traced each graceless scar and age line, Casey couldn't help but think him handsome. It was the determined set of the man's mouth and dark, downcast eyes that intrigued him the most.  

“I was dreaming about getting plowed by supermutants.” He announced suddenly, making Nate jolt in his seat.

“Casey!” Admonished the Knight, lip curled back with disgust. 

The Scribe buried his high, bark-like laugh in the mattress beneath his chin and let out a stream of muffled apologies at the sharp point of Nate’s disapproving glare.

“Sorry-sorry! I’m kidding! I’m sorry!” 

When the giggles subsided Nate punished him with a long, stormy quiet before he spoke again.

“Go to sleep.” He said coldly, though Casey thought he sensed a weariness as if Nate was speaking to himself. 

“Okay,” Casey surrender with bored finality, feeling a touch guilty. He had just begun to turn into the bed when he lifted his head back up suddenly. A bright, mischievous smile crept to his face.

“...only if you sleep with me.”

The young man hovered above the bed expectantly, waiting for the rebuttal that was sure to come, but instead, Nate strapped the gun to his hip and gave Casey an unreadable look that dropped the smile from his face.

“Fine.” The Kight agreed.

..

Things didn't fall as smoothly as that. Nate had to relieve himself first, which got Casey thinking he might as well do the same, then a stomach growled and a late dinner of fried Cram and corn was arranged. As Casey scrapped the black edges of the pan Nate surveyed the perimeter once more. The two met again face-to-face from their respective bedsides, one covered in icy dew feeling reluctantly satisfied with the state of things, both looking like strangers. 

Nate climbed on first and rest his back against the ornate headboard with legs crossed comfortably. He watched patiently as Casey rested one knee on the mattress before hesitating, then raised his brows as the young man stumbled through a quick apology before exiting the space once again. His voice had cracked as he excused himself. 

Nate stared with animal-like intensity into the empty air Casey left behind.

When the young man came back around the corner he appeared hot-faced but determined, making a purposeful beeline for his side of the bed and rolling neatly into place. The ensuing silence was busy, sizzling like distant radio static. Casey lay obediently reposed, back to his companion, and the volatile nature of the silence told him that Nate was not convinced by this play at innocence.

“Is this enough?” 

Casey flinched, unprepared for the question or how the deep roll of his voice slipped beneath the darkness. 

“Yes.” The Scribe muttered a touch too quickly, tightly. 

Nothing moved between them but fire and shadows; somewhere in the night, something wailed like a small child. 

“Yes...” He insisted again, letting it out like a held breath and deflating at the edges into the mattress.  “It’s enough.”

Natan Cortez belongs to @avaleon. Dis for you bae. 

[suzannebyrne]

Meghan Markle Shuts Down Her Lifestyles Website ’Cause She’s Gotta Focus on Becoming a Princess and Stuff

Meghan Markle, pictured in May 2016, is done trying the Gwyneth Paltrow thing. (Photo: Alberto E. Rodriguez/Getty Images)

Meghan Markle is moving on from her lifestyles website, the Tig. The actress and GOPH (that would be Girlfriend of Prince Harry) posted a letter Friday announcing the shuttering of her pet project, which launched in 2014.

“After close to three beautiful years on this adventure with you, it’s time to say goodbye to The Tig,” the Suits actress, 35, wrote. “What began as a passion project (my little engine that could) evolved into an amazing community of inspiration, support, fun and frivolity. You’ve made my days brighter and filled this experience with so much joy. Keep finding those Tig moments of discovery, keep laughing and taking risks, and keep being ‘the change you wish to see in the world.'”

RIP, Tig! Meghan’s farewell message went up on the site on Friday. (Photo: The Tig)

Markle added, “Above all, don’t ever forget your worth — as I’ve told you time and time again: you, my sweet friend, you are enough.”

She also posted a thank you to her Tig followers on Instagram, “saying she will always be grateful for the support.”

Thank you to all the supporters of The Tig! From followers to contributors, you have become friends ❤ It is YOU who have made this Tig community so special. And even though I haven't met most of you, for three years I've seen your faces and read your comments and hugged you from afar. (Domi, Em, Hannah, Sol, Iris, Doris, Jessy, Simone, Cassy….and so many more! I will always be grateful for your support). Go to @thetigofficial or thetig.com to see our official send-off. Sending all the love xx MM #TigFarewell

A post shared by Meghan Markle (@meghanmarkle) on Apr 7, 2017 at 9:19am PDT

As well as a final message on the Tig’s Insta about goodbyes not being forever.

It's that time, loves! It is with a heavy (but very full) heart that we say THANK YOU for being with us on this pretty epic adventure for the past three years. To read the farewell to The Tig from our EIC @meghanmarkle, go to thetig.com. ???? We will miss you, but we happily pass the baton to our dear friend @janina who is changing the game in the digital space with her site @altfound. Follow along with her for some incredible coolness, realness, and fun. #payitforward #TheTig #farewell #grateful

A post shared by The Tig (@thetigofficial) on Apr 7, 2017 at 9:16am PDT

So what was The Tig all about? Well, it was named after the American mispronunciation of Tignanello wine. She told Tory Burch in 2014 that sipping the wine “was my first moment of getting it. I finally understood what people meant by the body, structure, finish, legs of wine.” So the Tig was her “nickname for me getting it. Not just wine, but everything.”

Vanity Fair did a deep-dive into the contents of Markel’s site, which she initially created 100 percent on her own, but later turned to a small team for help. Described as “not dissimilar to, yep, a Goop or a (R.I.P.) Preserve,” she wrote about places she traveled, parties she threw (like a bachelorette weekend for her BFF), food she ate, and celebrity encounters, including meeting Michael Bublé, who later supplied a holiday playlist (many of her friends became contributors). But she talked a lot about books, said she didn’t mind staying home, and wrote about trying to live in a more eco-conscious way.

So why did she pick now to shut it down? People are obviously going to connect this to Prince Harry, whom she has been linked to publicly since November. Does it mean they’re closer to getting engaged? Maybe. They sure looked cute at that wedding in March.

We suppose it probably has something to do with Harry — like maybe how all her old posts were suddenly being picked through now that she is on her way to becoming a royal. In a way, it’s like your old diary being thumbed through — and misinterpreted — by a bunch of strangers. (Though that probably isn’t nearly as bad as having your own sister write a tell-all about you.)

While no wedding plans have been announced, which seems like a good thing as they haven’t been together that long, Prince Harry, 32, continues to throw out those “I’m ready for kids” vibes. On Friday, the man who dubbed himself “Funcle” was adorably playing with a young boy at an Invictus Games event in Bath, England. They did a little boxing, Prince William’s little brother swung him around, and they ended with a high five.

Prince Harry playing around with a young boy at the U.K. team trials for the Invictus Games.(Photo: KGC-375/STAR MAX/IPx)

And suddenly we really hope Markle is saying goodbye to the Tig as part of plans for settling down with Harry. Man, he’s going to be a cute dad.

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