#there are 1484 days left

[kedreeva]

There are good things in this world still

Today my sister sent me a photo of her cat sleeping against her leg while she worked from home. I sent her back a photo of Bug keeping me company while I wrote.

Today I got to eat leftover quail pot pie, and it was very delicious with some shredded cheese on top. Bug helped herself to most of the potatoes.

Today I made myself some jello in a little loaf pan and ate it straight out of the pan with a spoon, and it was DELICIOUS. I always forget gelatin in a thing. I want to use the unflavored stuff I have for the mice (to make travel gel for hydration) to gelatinize stone juices sometime. For kicks. Maybe that will be an experiment for next grocery trip.

Today I made a sand bin for Bug to dust bathe in. She was not terribly impressed, and very concerned whether it was actually for her or not.

She stood up on the side of it for a long time looking in, waiting. Waiting to be told no maybe, or waiting for it to do something. She did go in and scratch around a bit eventually, but no dust bathing yet. She wants to though, so we'll see.

There are good things left in this world, however small. This is your opportunity to reblog this and share your good things with each other (maybe share pics today? It's a good day for pictures!), or check the notes if you need a reminder.

[won4kiss]

── ❝ ꒰ 𝑂𝑃𝑃𝑂𝑆𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑆’ 𝒜𝑇𝑇𝑅𝐴𝐶𝑇 .ᐟㅤ ៸៸﹙ 최범규 ﹚ ᶻ𐰁

GENRE ៸៸ established relationship ៸ emo gyu ៸ oneshot ﹔ SYPNOSIS┆in which you and your boyfriend are complete opposites, and you start feeling insecure about your differences .ᐟㅤ ꒰ WORD COUNT﹕1484 ꒱── 𝓦ARNING(S) not proofread ៸ kissing ៸ pet names ៸ mean girls ៸ . ݁ ✦ ݁ . ⊱ LIBRARY . . . ﹕LUNA 💭 —play pierce the veil pls!! T-T ݁𖥔 ݁˖

YOUR BOYFRIEND BEOMGYU LOOKED EXACTLY HOW YOU WOULD IMAGINE A TYPICAL “EMO” TO LOOK LIKE.

tattoos covering majority of his arms, and some ink peeking out from under his shirt collar.

his piercings gleamed under the mornings sun, and he wore dark clothes that always matched his black hair perfectly.

he was almost always wearing something that showed off his tattoos—a tank top, a loose tee, or even an unbuttoned shirt.

but the most alluring part of him to you were his eyes—they were so warm whenever they landed on you, the intimidating persona fading in a heartbeat as he smiled that soft smile, one that was just for you.

beomgyu was your opposite in almost every way.

he loved rock music, his playlists filled with grunge bands and electrics guitars and drums, the kind of music you wouldn’t normally go near.

you were more of a bright pop kind of person—colourful tops, rhinestoned miniskirts, butterfly clips decorating your hair and gentle smiles. ─── 𝘔𝘖𝘙𝘌 𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘊𝘜𝘛 .ᐟㅤ

where he wore black leather, you wore soft knitted cardigans—but despite all of that, he was yours, and you were his.

and anyone who saw the two of you together could see that somehow, it just worked.

it was clear in the way beomgyu would put his arm around you protectively whenever you walked through crowds, his demeanor always softening as he listened to you talk about your day.

he was endlessly affectionate with you—always giving you his softest glances, his most genuine laughter, and his sweetest words.

one day, beomgyu had asked if you wanted to come to a party his friends were hosting.

you’d met a couple of his friends briefly before, but never the whole group—he reassured you that everyone was nice, and that they’d love you.

you trusted him, so after some hesitation, you had finally agreed.

the party was everything you imagined it would be—a dark, gloomy space filled with music that pounded heavily in your chest.

everyone there seemed to dress like beomgyu—black outfits, chains, piercings, heavy makeup.

you walked in with your pastel yellow miniskirt and bright coloured tank-top, and you instantly felt a little out of place.

but beomgyu didn’t let go of your hand for a second, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your skin to reassure you as if he heard your thoughts.

“see, it’s not so bad, right?” beomgyu said, his lips brushing against your ear so you could hear him over the music.

you nodded, giving him a small smile. “yeah, it’s not too bad.”

his eyes softened, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “i’m really happy you came,” he said, his voice full of warmth.

you could tell beomgyu was in his element here—he chatted easily with his friends, his demeanor relaxed.

you met some of his friends, and true to his word, they were all welcoming and kind.

they asked you questions, smiled at your answers, and made you feel included despite how different you looked from them.

beomgyu left your side for a moment to grab something from another room, and you decided to make your way over to the drinks table.

as you poured yourself a cup, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of your surroundings pressing down on you.

you felt like you stuck out too much, like everyone else belonged and you were just the odd one out.

and then you heard it.

“honestly, i think beomgyu’s just going through a phase. i mean, look at her. it’s so obvious they’re not gonna last,” a girl’s voice said, her words dripping with condescension. “he’ll get tired of her eventually.” the girl’s friend added.

your hand froze mid-pour, your heart dropping into your stomach.

you didn’t turn around, but you could hear them giggling quietly, the words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit.

you bit your lip, trying to ignore it, but it was impossible to shake the feeling that they might be right—maybe beomgyu would realize you weren’t really what he wanted, maybe this was just a phase for him.

you quickly finished pouring your drink and made your way back to beomgyu, painting on a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

when he returned, he was excited, chatting happily about some funny thing one of his friends had said.

you nodded along, but you felt distant, the insecurity gnawing at your insides.

the car ride home was quiet, beomgyu occasionally glancing over at you, concern slowly growing in his eyes.

you were usually the one who filled the silence with stories or questions, but tonight, you were just staring out the window, lost in your web of thoughts.

beomgyu finally pulled up in front of your place, putting the car in park and turning to you.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he asked softly, his brows knitting together.

he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. “you’ve been quiet since we left the party.”

you shook your head in denial, giving him a weak smile. “it’s nothing, really.”

but beomgyu wasn’t convinced—he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned his body toward you, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin.

“come on princess, you know you can tell me anything,” he said, his voice gentle, his eyes searching yours. “what’s going on?”

you hesitated for a moment before finally letting out a sigh. “it’s just… i overheard someone at the party,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“they said that… that you were probably just going through a phase. that you’d get tired of me eventually.”

beomgyu’s eyes widened in shock, his hand freezing on your cheek.

he blinked at you, and for a moment, he looked almost hurt—hurt that you would even think that.

“you really think that?” he asked, his voice soft, a whisper. “you really think i’d just… get tired of you?”

you looked down, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

“i don’t know. i mean… look at me, gyu. i’m nothing like your friends. i don’t fit in with them. i don’t fit in with your world.”

beomgyu let out a small sigh, his other hand reaching out to take yours, his fingers intertwining with yours.

“y/n, look at me,” he said gently, you hesitated before finally lifting your eyes to meet his.

he gave you the softest smile, his eyes filled with so much love that it made your heart ache.

“you’re not just some phase to me,” he said, his voice steady, filled with sincerity.

“you’re it for me. i don’t care that you’re different from my friends. i don’t want you to be like them. i love you because you’re you. you make me happy in a way no one else ever could.”

you felt your eyes welling up with tears, and beomgyu immediately leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

his thumb brushed away a stray tear that escaped down your cheek, and he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“please don’t doubt how much i love you,” he whispered, his voice cracking just a little.

“you’re everything to me. i don’t want anyone else. i only want you.”

you let out a shaky breath, your hands moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered. “i just… i got scared.”

beomgyu shook his head, his eyes softening even more. “you never have to be scared, okay? i’m not going anywhere.”

he gave you a small, teasing smile, his nose brushing against yours. “you’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

you let out a small laugh, and beomgyu’s smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

he leaned in again, kissing you softly, his hands cradling your face like you were the most precious thing in the world.

when he finally pulled away, he looked at you with so much love that it took your breath away.

“i love you, y/n. more than anything,” he said, his voice steady, his eyes never leaving yours.

you smiled, your heart swelling with warmth. “i love you too, gyu,” you whispered, your voice full of warmth.

he grinned, his eyes lighting up with that playful glint you loved so much.

“good. now, let’s get you inside, okay? and maybe tomorrow we can have a day just for us. no parties, no friends—just you and me.”

you nodded, your smile widening. “i’d like that.”

beomgyu leaned in, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before finally pulling away, his fingers lacing with yours as he helped you out of the car.

and as you walked toward your door, his hand holding yours tightly, you knew that no matter what anyone else said, no matter how different you were, beomgyu was yours—and that was all that mattered.

© won4kiss 2024

𝒯aglist open ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @greentulip @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @pockyyasii @iluvnikism @wonsprincess @rikibwn @niawonn

៸៸ ❝ PLEASE REBLoG AND LiKE .ᐟㅤ 💌

[banmitbandit]

Pots 'N' Picks Week 2024: Day 7: Breakfast/Lunch/Dinner/Snacks/Dessert/Family/Goodbye

[Dungeon Meshi spoilers (with a big amount of canon divergence) and a long, long caption beneath the Keep Reading]

November 20th, 1484 Dear Senshi, It's been a little over eighty two years since you've been gone. In that time, Merrywinn, the newborn baby you held in your arms days before you passed, became a great-great-grandmother, and her funeral last week was as rancorous as every other half-foot funeral we attended. Soon, it will be my one thousandth birthday, and I can only hope that, like you and Marcille, that's when this curse will finally be lifted, and I can see you again. If that's true, then that means I'm the beginning of an end. Instead of twenty one years, Laios will only have to wait three until he dies after me, and Falin will only have to wait three after that. In twelve years from now, Izutsumi will pass on too, and the six of us will get to share a meal together once again. I've missed your cooking, sure, but most importantly, I've missed you. Do you remember when we first shared that bottle of wine in my new house in Kahka Brud, over nine hundred years ago, before we had the slightest idea that something was wrong? I told you that I didn't want to make you feel the way I felt when Fayfinn left me. You said you didn't care, that it was worth whatever small amount of time you had me. Obviously, it turned out that fate had different plans for us, that the Winged Lion had cursed Marcille too, that we'd each live as long as she would. It's been hard, but since then, you've been there for me every step of the way. When Fayfinn passed, when my girls passed, when their children passed, and theirs too. You've been there for everything, and I'm thankful for it, from the bottom of my heart. I knew I wouldn't be prepared to lose you, and I wasn't. But no matter how much I hurt, Izutsumi was worse, even if she'd never admit it, and I had to be strong for her, too. She's strong and independent, just like she's always been, since the day we met her, but you were the closest thing to a father she ever had. She loved you, Senshi. She said so herself at your funeral. I just hope she doesn't miss me enough to cry at mine. I don't care what dwarves or tallmen or elves think, you and I both know funerals are supposed to be celebrations. Fun is in the name, isn't it? I haven't been okay in a long time, but these days, I feel somewhat peaceful. I have lived my life to the fullest, like any good half-foot should. My birthday gets nearer and nearer with each passing day. Tomorrow, Lochlee, Merrywinn's great-grandson, is helping me collect my things so that I can return to Merini for Laios and Falin's birthday in a few days, and I plan to stay there at the castle until my time is up. I've packed the cheesecake recipe you perfected, and I'm going to sneak it to the cooks whilst Laios isn't looking. I'm sure he'll end up eating yours and Marcille's portions too, but I know you won't mind. After that, it's Marcille's birthday. Then Izutsumi's. Then mine. I'm looking forward to it; like funerals, birthdays are for celebrating. Even elves know that. I can't wait to see you again, Senshi. Yours, -Chilchuck Tims

An AU I proposed back in the Chilshi Nation server a while ago seemed to be a good way to break my heart when rounding off Chilshi week. A lot of people bring up the tragedy of Chilchuck and Senshi's lifespans being so different, and it makes me wonder what it would be like if Marcille's misguided wish had long term consequences.

This wasn't intended to be seven pages long with the lyrics to A Thousand Years by Christina Perri shoved in, but that's what it ended up being. The song seemed a little too perfect not to include.

All of my Chilshi posts were drawn up on the day, and I used them mostly as an excuse to experiment, whether it be posing, body types, shading, comic layouts... My later entries got to be a little more ambitious with what I wanted to do with them, so they're maybe not as polished as I would like them to be, but I hope you can enjoy them anyways.

Whilst I'm here, I'd like to extend a special thankyou to @dumblilracoon for dealing with my awful brainstorming and struggling all week. Couldn't have done this without you. And of course, the Chilshi Nation discord server for being so lovely! :)

If you reblogged or liked or commented on even one of my Chilshi week posts, thankyou so much! Chilshi week has been a blast and working on it and seeing all the lovely art and writing that's come up from it has been a treat.

Happy Chilshi Week, everybody!

[amiserableseriesofevents]

Wherever you find love (it feels like Christmas)

24 Clegan Christmas drabbles for 24 days!

Prompt from here (but randomized)

[Day 1] [Day 2] [Day 3] [Day 4] [Day 5] [Day 6] [Day 7] [Day 8] [Day 9] [Day 10] [Day 11] [Day 12]

[Read on AO3]

Day 13: Carols

Modern AU, wc 1484

On Christmas Eve the town center is packed with people who are making some last minute presents runs — these include one John Egan, who’s always doing things at the last possible minute “because he thrives under pressure, Buck” and definitely not because of his undiagnosed ADHD.

And as it is well known it’s almost impossible to see John Egan out and about without his best friend Buck Cleven — is best friend the right word? When are they going to finally cave and admit the feelings they have for each other? Jury’s still out on that — who of course has already done his Christmas shopping well in advance especially to avoid the Christmas Eve’s crowd.

So here they are, marching around the town center, John speaking a mile a minute seemingly without ever draw breath and Buck — who’s actually Gale, as he never tires to repeat, but everyone seems to have forgotten it — right by his side in silence, holding John’s shopping bags for him when the other’s too busy gesticulating. He might look annoyed to the untrained eye but those who know him are able to read the deep affection in his eyes, an amused expression in the curve of his lips where he keeps his toothpick, a fondness that goes well beyond friendly feelings in the faint blush that blossoms on his cheeks whenever John slings one arm around his shoulders or grabs him from one arm to drag him towards this or that shop.

“I think I’m done now!” John exclaims satisfied as they step out of a bookshop with two more wrapped parcels in the bag. It’s almost dinnertime, he needs to hurry back home for the family meal his mom’s spent the whole day cooking for if he wants to be alive to see Christmas tomorrow.

“You sure? D’you have one for your mom?” Buck asks.

“Yes, that jumper we bought earlier.”

“Your dad?”

“We got him that fancy inkwell for his fountain pen.”

“Sisters?”

John shakes the bookshop’s bag. “We just got those, Buck!”

Another imperceptible smile graces Buck’s mouth at that. “Hey, I’m just making sure you didn’t forget about anyone. Remember that time you left your mum without a Christmas present?”

“I do,” John says shuddering at the memory. “But I swear, this time I got everything right on time. Yours I got it weeks ago,” he adds with a wink.

“You got me a present?” Buck asks, surprised and delighted. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Hey, you mean you didn’t get me one?” John shoots back to which Gale responds, almost offended, “Of course I got you one, it was the first I got.”

“See? You get me a Christmas present, I get you a Christmas present. That’s how it works when people love each other Buck, they exchange presents,” John says, hoping he hasn’t been too forward. He knows he loves Buck, definitely as more than just a friend, but he wants to be sure the other’s on the same page before risking ruining their friendship.

He doesn’t know how his words warmed up Buck’s heart, he misses the spark of unchecked hope in his eyes because a sound makes him turn around: there’s a small crowd forming in the square, everyone stopping to listen to a group of singers. They’re all dressed in red, with Santa’s hats or reindeer’s antlers on their heads, and their voices are in perfect harmony as they sing Christmas carols. With a silent nod John grabs Buck’s hand once more and drags him closer to the choir, a wide smile on his face as he listens to the music; it reminds him of his childhood, when he would walk around town with his parents and sisters and they would always stop listening to the carolers, or sometimes it was the carolers who came to their house and John would stand at the door in his mother’s arms, his head against her shoulder as the songs went on.

He turns to Buck to tell him, it’s a story he’s sure he hasn’t shared before, but he’s taken aback when he notices that his friend looks sad, that particular kind of melancholy in his eyes John’s always ever seen there when it’s something to do with Gale’s childhood. He leans in closer, just enough to whisper in his ear. “You ok Buck?”

When Buck just nods, John pushes further. “You wanna leave?”

“Not if you wanna listen,” Buck answers but John shakes his head. “I’ve heard them thousands of time and I’m running late, let’s go,” he says.

When they’ve walked far enough from the crowds that Buck feels comfortable speaking, he says, “I used to love carolers, they came to all the houses down our street on Christmas Eve and it was so nice, they were so good. I was always the one answering the door because I knew my dad wouldn’t like them, but one year I didn’t get there in time. He was drunk, obviously, and started shouting at the carolers before they could even start singing. I think he even threw an empty bottle of them, I’m not sure, the only thing I know is that they never came back to our house after that year. They would go down the street and avoid us like the plague. I can’t blame them of course, but I wished they understood and came anyway.”

“I’m sorry, Buck,” John says mortified. “I promise I had no idea you hated carols-”

“It’s not that I hate them,” Buck interrupts him. “I miss the way they made me feel, that’s it. But don’t you worry about me, John: I have many happy Christmas traditions now, with you and our friends. I don’t need carolers anymore,” he adds with a reassuring smile, but John’s mind already forged a whole plan.

So later that night, Gale’s sitting at his living room table writing the last of his Christmas cards when someone knocks at his door. He wonders who could that be since all his friends are busy with their family, they’re not supposed to meet before lunch tomorrow, but since the knocking continues he stands up sighing and walks to the door, ready to send away whoever’s come to disturb his peace on this fine evening.

He almost chokes on his own spit when he opens the door and sees John standing in front of him with one of his obnoxious Christmas sweater and a Santa hat perched upon his curls. “I only have ten minutes before my mum notices I’m gone and starts hunting me for sport,” he says pulling out his phone.

“What are you-” Gale tries but John shushes him, frantically scrolling on his screen until he finds what he’s looking for. Tinny piano notes come from the speaker, filling the air, and John starts singing a very off-key rendition of All I Want For Christmas Is You.

Gale’s never heard anyone sing worse, he’s offbeat, rushing to catch up with Mariah Carrey’s voice, breathless and increasingly red in the face as the song progresses.

Gale’s sure he’s never loved anyone as much as he loves John right now.

When the music stops, John takes a few second to catch his breath as Gale keeps staring at him in awe. “You watched Love Actually too many times,” he finally says, unable to hide the smile printed on his face.

Still panting and made brazen by the performance, John grins. “Why, you need a sign to know that to me, you are perfect?” He asks and then, catching the shocked look on Buck’s face, he panics. He scrambles to find something to say that wouldn’t sound too much like an actual love confession but his mind is completely blank, and to be honest Buck doesn’t look offended by what John said, he just looks surprised, hopeful even. Can it be…?

They stare at each other, faces flushed and with shortness of breath. John reads in Buck’s eyes the thing he’s hoped for for so long and decides, I am gonna kiss you now.

But before he can act on his words, his phone starts ringing loudly and when he checks what’s going on he blanches. “I think my mum found out I’m not home anymore,” he says. He has to run back, but how can he when he was so close to kissing Buck?

“Buck, I-” He starts, distraught.

“Go,” Buck tells him. “Go back before your mum kills you. Come here a little earlier tomorrow, though? I need to, erm, tell you something.” He adds, blushing even deeper.

If he wasn’t so afraid for his own life, John would be hollering. “Sounds good Buck, see you tomorrow. And merry Christmas!” He shouts, running back home.

Now alone in front of his house, his heart a thousand pounds lighter than usual, sure that no one’s gonna see him, Gale fist bumps the sky.

[whencyclopedia]

William Tyndale

William Tyndale (l.c. 1494-1536) was a talented English linguist, scholar and priest who was the first to translate the Bible into English. Tyndale objected to the Catholic Church’s control of scripture in Latin and the prohibition against an English translation. His work formed the basis of all other English translations of the Bible up through the modern era.

The Latin Vulgate Bible, translated from the original by Saint Jerome (l. 347-420), assisted by Saint Paula (l. 347-404) was considered the only true version by the Church, and translation into the vernacular, in any country, was forbidden. Even before the Reformation began in 1517, however, European scholars had already translated the Bible into their own languages, the German translation by Martin Luther (l. 1483-1546) being only one among many. The proto-reformer John Wycliffe (l. 1330-1384) had translated the Bible from the Vulgate to Middle English in c. 1380 but volumes of this work had been burned after his death.

Tyndale requested permission from ecclesiastical authorities to translate the Bible from the original Hebrew and Greek but was denied. He then left for Germany where he translated and published his work on the New Testament and part of the Old Testament, along with other writings, and had them smuggled into England. Tyndale is recognized as the first to translate the Bible into English, rather than Wycliffe, because he worked from the original languages, not just the Latin translation, as Wycliffe had done.

Tyndale moved about to maintain safety after Henry VIII (r. 1509-1547) called for his arrest and was well-protected by wealthy merchants in Antwerp when he was betrayed by Henry Phillips, a man he thought was his friend, and imprisoned. He was executed by strangulation and his body burned at the stake in October 1536. Three years later, the English version of the Bible completed by his colleague Myles Coverdale (l. 1488-1569) was published in England with the king’s approval. Tyndale and Coverdale are both honored in the present day as the first to translate the Bible into English even though it is acknowledged that Coverdale largely developed Tyndale’s earlier work.

Early Life & Education

Little is known of Tyndale’s early life. He is said to have been born in the village of Stinchcombe, Gloucestershire sometime between 1491-1494 with most scholars favoring the later date. The family was of the upper class, descended from the Tyndales of Northumberland, and his brother, Edward, is recorded as holding a prominent position The family went by the name of Hychyns as well as Tyndale and William Tyndale used both alternately when young. He was educated from an early age, though the details are unknown, and was enrolled at Oxford University in 1506, receiving his Bachelor of Arts degree in 1512 and his master’s degree in 1515.

In 1512 he had also been ordained a priest and served as a subdeacon in religious services. By 1517, he was enrolled at Cambridge University and displayed a talent for learning languages, becoming fluent in French, German, Greek, Hebrew, Italian, Latin, and Spanish. Although associated with the Catholic Church as subdeacon between c. 1512-1521, he seems to have left that position to become a tutor for the children of Sir John Walsh of Gloucestershire c. 1521.

By this time, the religious and social movement that came to be known as the Protestant Reformation was underway in Germany, led by Martin Luther, and in Switzerland through the efforts of Huldrych Zwingli (l. 1484-1531). England, however, remained a Catholic country under Henry VIII who received the honorary title of 'Defender of the Faith' from the Pope for his written work condemning Luther and his teachings. In the same year that Tyndale took the position at the Walsh household, Thomas Wolsey, Cardinal Archbishop of York (l.c. 1473-1530), presided over a public burning of Luther’s works in London at St. Paul’s Cross.

Continue reading...

[wonder-worker]

"Mancini, an Italian visitor to England, was concerned for (Edward V and Richard of Shrewsbury's) fate as early as mid July. Well before he left England in that month, the princes, he later wrote, 'were withdrawn into the inner apartments of the Tower and were seen more and more rarely behind the bars and windows, till at length they ceased to appear at all'. Rumours of the princes' deaths were already circulating by the year's end. George Cely reported that he had heard that Edward V might be dead not long after 13 June, and certainly before his uncle claimed the throne. The Crowland chronicler, writing in about 1486, recalled how the rumour arose in September 1483 that 'the princes, by some unknown manner of destruction, had met their fate'. Some early reports went further, stating quite categorically that the princes were no longer alive. Robert Ricart, recorder of Bristol, entered in his Kalendar under the year ending 15 September 1483 that 'in this year the two sons of King Edward were put to silence in the Tower of London'. Shortly after 1485 the anonymous compiler of a genealogy of English kings concluded his work by accusing Richard, with his accomplice Buckingham, of murdering the princes. A London citizen, in some historical notes written before the end of 1488, noted that 'they were put to death in the Tower of London' in the mayoral year ending November 1483. John Rous, writing in 1489, reported that Richard killed the princes within three months of welcoming Edward V at Stony Stratford on 30 April; Richard, he wrote, 'received his lord king Edward V blandly with embraces and kisses, and within three months or a little more he killed him with his brother'. Rumours to similar effect reached France. In a speech to the estates general in 1484 the chancellor of France, Guillaume de Rochefort, reminded his audience how Edward IV s sons had been murdered and the crown seized by the murderer."

-Nigel Saul, The Three Richards: Richard I, Richard II and Richard III

*Just to add, Casper Weinrich of Danzig's chronicle at the end of 1483 also states that, "Richard, the King's brother, has put himself in power and crowned in England and he had his brother's children killed" and then in 1485 "King Richard of England, who had had his brother Edward’s children killed, was killed about St. Lawrence Day"

[eggedbellies]

Everyone go and thank @chimeraqueen9 for this! Check my pinned on info for getting your own.

Title: Your Goose Is Cooked Wordcount: 1484 Kinks: transformation, eggpreg, animal transformation Synopsis: Isabella steals a giant's golden goose, sure this will make her rich for the rest of her life. She doesn't plan on just how upset he'd be to lose it.

-

It had been hard work to get this close to the giant's castle. She knew it was risky, but the rewards, oh, the rewards would be utterly immense. The riches kept in here would keep Isabella in food for months, if not for years, not to mention a home, safety, security. She just had to take a chance. Slipping in through a crack in a wall she had spotted on a scouting mission last week, Bella was now inside. And that was terrifying, but oh so amazing. Scuttering like a rat against the walls, she kept herself as small and quiet as possible. No sight of the giant yet. She'd heard awful things about what the beast would do to humans found in it's home unwelcomed - the nicer were things like squashing or eating them, but the worst… she pushed it aside. Just had to think of the riches that were coming.

The furniture that stood around was jarringly big to her. The giant was, arguably, not that big a giant - he was maybe fifteen feet tall - but he was powerful. And considering that he was almost three times bigger than Bella was, well, it was all huge and challenging. They managed to reach the doorway at the other end of the room - no sign of the beast that inhabited it. She'd only ever seen him from a distance. A great gilt cup sat on a table above, and she could just about make out the edges of golden cutlery. Everything in here was immense and beautiful, but too big, too heavy to move…

The search was, admittedly, going poorly. Everything that she had encountered so far was too big or too unwieldy to escape with. She had paused at the doorway to what seemed to be a bedroom, peering through - yes, the great lump was breathing, and holding her own breath, Isabella managed to get past the room without disturbing him, apparently. The next room, though, oh, the next room! The first thing she found was a box; nestled gently in the straw inside was an egg, bigger than her clenched fists, shimmering gold. Yes - yes! This was it! Pushing aside the urge to pocket the treasure, she found herself seeking the cause of it - the big, soft, white shape, nestled on it's own straw.

The goose was beautiful; a big bird, yes, but not unmanageable, and it's white feathers had shimmering gold tips. It sat, fat and content, on the nest. Stepping closer, slowly, slowly, Isabella reached out and stroked it's feathers. The beast woke up, eyes opening - and then letting out an alarmed honk. It's head swung side to side, an alarmed shake, it's wings opening, but it was clearly too heavy to take flight. Launching forward, Bella wrapped one arm around the body and the other around the beak. Hefting it out of the straw bed, it's legs dangling below, paddling uselessly in the air, she took off at an urgent - but soft - run.

Unable to believe that she'd managed it, Isabella had to contain the urge to laugh as she made her way back to town. It was important to sell the goods as soon as possible, and it was … strange. As soon as they were away from the castle, all the energy from the goose seemed to go; no honks, no panic. The beast was clearly over-fed, too heavy to escape on it's own, and when she took it too market, there was plenty of fascination as it proved it's worth by popping out a bright gold, heavy egg. It couldn't have gone better, and whilst the beast was panting and throwing it's head back during the laying, decidedly un-goose-like behaviour, well - this was a magical beast, what were they to think? The money they walked home with that day weighed down their pockets, joy settling into the lines of their form. No fear of the world left - this would get them a home…

-

They had been deeply asleep on their straw bed when the smashing noise awoke them. A strong hand was wrapping around them, jolting them out of sleep, alarm and confusion flooding through her body as she scrabbled, gasping, looking up to a furious, massive face. "Where's my GOOSE?!" the giant roared into her face. Her heart was thundering near out of her chest. "I - what - I - I don't - I don't have it!" she gasped out. Oh, no. She was going to die. It was over, it was all over - "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER!?" "I sold her! I sold her!" she gasped out. "She went to a super rich guy! He promised he'd take care of her!" it esemed important, now, that he knew that she hadn't hurt the goose.

The words hung in the air for a moment, and then they were moving, being wrenched out of the ruined door of her home, and out. He held Isabella against his chest, strangely not hurting her, but carrying her with a speed that made her head spin and cold air rush through her hair. Her heart was still thundering, but he hadn't killed her yet, as they pushed through into his home, and then - to the room where they had found the golden goose, dropping Bella onto their hay bed. With an oof as the wind rushed out of them, Bella twisted to get up - stumbling and slipping on the hay beneath their feet - and the giant was opening a cupboard. Inside, gleaming potions stood, the bottles shockingly small in his hand…

"So few left, so few," he huffed, "You better be as prosperous as she was, human." and then he was turning back, grabbing Isabella's neck again, popping the top of the bottle easily with one thumb - and as the sparkles began to rise from it into the air, carrying a sweet and musky scent - she realised what it was. A potion. Oh, no. The fear of death became the terror of something else, but he was forcing her neck back, the nozzle of it flooding over her face, and she couldn't help but swallow it as it ran down her features, much of it flooding her nose and crashing down her chest. He threw the bottle away, discarding it as if it was nothing, as tingles began to throb into her veins…

"What - how - hwa- hwaaak -" she slapped a hand over her mouth as the giant released her, collapsing onto the hay bed again. He was chuckling, deeply. "Thieves get what they deserve." he moved back, dragging a chair over, flopping back into it and cracking his pants open. Revealing his cock, as big as her thigh, already stiffening, starting to stroke himself as he watched her. So fearless of her attempts to escape - and it was true, her legs - her legs had given up entirely.

Her throat tightened, but all the words that she tried to speak were gone. Just honks fled from her, now, bones cracking and popping as her neck started to stretch. Her arms flared out, twisting, reshaping, white feathers beginning to push through her skin. And more than anything, god, she ached. Her whole body was throbbing, focusing in on her crotch and belly, she was soaking wet, gasping sharply. The world wavered, getting bigger, somehow - her hips cracked, and when she looked down, pressing arms around her belly… she could see it. Feel it. The growing weight in her swelling, rounding belly, golden eggs starting to stretch her. No wonder Bella's legs couldn't work any more, splaying - she could see the scales crawling up them, webbing growing in as her feet and limbs darkening. Alarmed honks half twisted in pleasure as her humanity slipped away…

Panting past her new beak, she swung her head around to look at him, the giant - bigger now. She was a huge goose, like the last one had been, struggling to fit in her box nest, but half the size of a human. And her heavy belly, concealed in feathers now, made it hard to move. But, fuck. She could feel the first of her new eggs swelling, flapping her wings and honking as he chuckled… her body was aching in pleasure, now, panting past her beak, drawing in cool breaths to try to calm herself as fuck, fuck, she was stretching, groaning, the weight so intense and her body sore but made for this… the first egg slipped out and landed wetly as the giant groaned, cumming over his hand.

He stood up, dick swaying and drooling between his legs, using his slick hand to scoop the egg up and investigate it. "Good enough." he huffed, and she honked, exhausted… but the pressure was starting again, bearing down. His eyes widened, and he roared a laugh. "Oh, my pet… you're off to an excellent start." he ran his sticky hand down her back, unpleasantly gluing itself to her feathers. "I can't wait to see how you do for the next hundred years." and she honked, half in fear, and half in pleasure, at the idea of squeezing out golden eggs for all that time…

[scotianostra]

The Battle of Lochmaben Fair was fought on 22nd July 1484 in the town of Lochmaben in south-west Scotland

Our second of three battles of the day involved party of cavalry led by the rebel Earl of Douglas and the Duke of Albany, who crossed from England and clashed with local forces loyal to King James III.

Another little known battle during the unpopular reign of James III, it’s tagged as a battle, but from the evidence I can gather it was another skirmish, or even a raid.

Alexander, the Duke of Albany, was the younger brother of King James III. More warlike than his brother, whose favourites were more talented in the arts of peace, Albany had been exiled from Scotland. At the English court, he met another exile, James, Earl of Douglas. Alexander had his eyes on the Scottish crown, and when there is a pretender to the throne, like Edward Balliol, from previous  weeks post, there is also a wee bit naughtiness from the English Monarchy, this time it was another Edward, what is it with the Edwards, they all seemed to want their piece of us?

Anyway Edward IV, promised his assistance to Albany who was to be made King of Scotland while owing allegiance to Edward. Edward was to be given the towns of Berwick and Lochmaben, with the lands of Liddesdale, Eskdale and Annandale.  Albany was to marry Edward’s daughter Cecily, meaning a possible future Union of Crowns.

With Edward’s help, these plans might have succeeded. But Edward died, and his successor, Richard III, withdrew his support. This left Albany’s main hope in gaining the throne of Scotland to be his alliance with the aging Douglas and the loyalty of Douglas’ retainers as they advanced north of the border.

And so it was on this day in a force of renegade Scots including the Earl of Douglas, and English soldiers under Albany, crossed the border in an attempt to capture Lochmaben.

Unfortunately for them, the local land owners and their retainers considered their loyalty to their King greater than to their feudal overlord, Douglas. The invaders, numbering probably not more than 500 horseman, were repulsed by a force gathered by the local land owners.

Hastening to Lochmaben to answer the summons of the signal fires that announced Albany’s approach were a number of the border nobles and their followers, the usual border clans were there, Master of Maxwell, Johnstone of Johnstone, Murray of Cockpool, Crichton of Sanquhar, Carruthers of Holmains and Charteris of Amisfield. The fighting lasted sporadically through the whole day. Before the next day had dawned, Albany had hightailed it back across the border and Douglas had been captured by Alexander Kirkpatrick, brother to the Laird of Closeburn.

All the families were rewarded for their loyalty, Douglas was eventually imprisoned at Lindores Abbey, where he died four years later.

For more background on The Douglas fall from grace and the events check out the excellent Douglas History Archives

[margueritedanjou]

DEATH OF AN ANOINTED KING:

THE ASSASSINATION OF HENRY VI OF ENGLAND.

“The Croyland Chronicle condemned the 'tyrant' who 'dared to lay sacrilegious hands on the Lord's Anointed' and by June word had reached France that Edward had 'caused King Henry to be secretly assassinated in the Tower... He has, in short, chosen to crush the seed.’

The Warkworth Chronicle, written no later than 1484, noted suggestively that when Henry died he was kept company in the Tower by 'the duke of Gloucester', Edward's youngest brother and the man who had only a few weeks before condemned most of Henry's surviving commanders to execution in Tewksbury. But Gloucester was certainly not alone in the Tower.

At one point during Fauconberg's rebellion, the lieutenant of the Tower, the septuagenarian Lord Dudley, was commanding a hundred soldiers there and thirty-six men are named as being in attendance on Henry during his last imprisonment. Any one of these men might have been Henry's murderer.

Even the exact cause of Henry's death was unclear. A legend soon arose that Henry had been stabbed. However, when his body was exhumed in 1910, the skull was found to be 'apparently matted with blood' and broken in several places. He may therefore have died from a blow to the head.

What is certain is that in spite of the legends that later wove themselves around Richard, duke of Gloucester, connecting his hand with Henry's death, the ultimate responsibility for it lay with Edward IV.

As constable of England, Gloucester was responsible for imparting royal justice and may have carried a royal command for Henry's death. But that order had to come from Edward.

Whatever befell Henry the night before, on the morning of 22 May 1471 his body was embalmed with wax and spices, then wrapped in linen for burial.

But before he could be laid to rest there was one last forced procession he had to make. To prove, once and for all, that the House of Lancaster was defeated, Henry's corpse was loaded on to a wagon to wind its way through London's streets to St Paul's Cathedral, surrounded by torchbearers and soldiers.

For a few days he was left on display in the cathedral, his unseeing face open to public scrutiny. As his body lay on the pavement of the church it was seen to bleed, a sign that was generally understood to indicate that Henry had been murdered.”

JOHNSON, Lauren. “Shadow King: Life and Death of Henry VI”

[thepastisalreadywritten]

SAINT OF THE DAY (March 4)

On March 4, the Catholic Church honors Saint Casimir Jagiellon, a prince whose life of service to God has made him a patron saint of Poland, Lithuania, and young people.

In 1984, Pope John Paul II addressed Lithuanian pilgrims commemorating the 500th anniversary of the prince's death.

He said, "the Church proclaimed Casimir a saint and placed him before us not only to be venerated but also that we might imitate his heroic virtues and follow his example of holiness.”

“His witness of great faith and fervent piety continues to have special meaning for us today,” the Pope said, noting especially the challenging call he offers to young people.

“His life of purity and prayer beckons you to practice your faith with courage and zeal, to reject the deceptive attractions of modern permissive society, and to live your convictions with fearless confidence and joy.”

Casimir Jagiellon was born on 3 October 1458, the third of thirteen children born to Poland's King Casimir IV and his wife Elizabeth of Austria.

King Casimir IV’s father had converted to Catholicism from paganism and introduced Christianity to Lithuania.

King Casimir IV was, therefore, raised in a good Catholic home, which he also provided to his children.

A faithful Catholic herself, Queen Elizabeth was the loving mother of her thirteen children.

He and several of his brothers studied with the priest and historian John Dlugosz, whose deep piety and political expertise influenced Casimir in his upbringing.

The young prince had a distaste for the luxury of courtly life. He instead chose the way of asceticism and devotion.

He wore plain clothes with a hair shirt beneath them and slept frequently on the ground. He would spend much of the night in prayer and meditation on the suffering and death of Christ.

Casimir showed his love for God through these exercises of devotion and also through his material charity to the poor.

He was known as a deeply compassionate young man who felt others' pains acutely.

The young prince was only 13 years old when his father was asked by the Hungarians to offer his son as their new king.

Casimir was eager to aid the Hungarians in their defense against the Turks and went to be crowned. This plan was unsuccessful, however, and he was forced to return to Poland.

After his return, Casimir resumed his studies with Dlugosz, while developing a canny grasp of politics by observing his father's rule.

In 1479, the king left Poland to attend to state business in Lithuania, leaving Prince Casimir in charge of the realm between 1481 and 1483.

Advisers to the prince joined his father in trying to convince Casimir to marry. But he preferred to remain single, focusing his life on the service of God and the good of his people.

After experiencing symptoms of tuberculosis, Casimir foresaw his death and prepared for it by deepening his devotion to God.

He died en route to Lithuania on 4 March 1484 and was buried with a copy of a Marian hymn he frequently recited.

He was believed to have been canonized by Pope Leo X in 1521 or Pope Adrian VI in 1522.

His canonization was finally confirmed by Pope Clement VIII in 1602.

One notable miracle took place in 1519 when the Lithuanian army was engaged in battle with the Russians.

It is said that Saint Casimir appeared to the Lithuanian soldiers in a vision and directed them to a place where they could best defend their city, which they successfully did.

This might be the reason that Casimir is the patron saint of both Poland and Lithuania.

Five centuries after his death, Pope John Paul II recalled how St. Casimir “embraced a life of celibacy, submitted himself humbly to God’s will in all things, devoted himself with tender love to the Blessed Virgin Mary, and developed a fervent practice of adoring Christ present in the Blessed Sacrament.”

“To all,” the Pope said, “he was a shining example of poverty and of sacrificial love for the poor and needy.”

On 11 June 1948, when many Lithuanians were displaced war refugees, Pope Pius XII named Casimir the special patron of Lithuanian youth.

[twofielder]

Coin of the Day #41 (6/14/2023)

Happy Pride Elagabalus!

Roman Province - Moesia

AE25 - 6.72g

Elagabalus (+ Julius Antonius Seleucus) 218-222 AD

Marcianopolis Mint

Obverse ΑΥΤ Κ Μ ΑΥΡ ΑΝΤΩΝΕΙΝΟC ΑΥΓ

Bust of Elagabalus right, laureate, draped, cuirassed

Reverse ΥΠ ΙΟΥΛ ΑΝΤ CΕΛΕΥΚΟΥ ΜΑΡΚΙΑΝΟΠΟΛΙΤΩΝ

Nemesis standing left, holding scales and rod, wheel at feet

RPC VI 1484

happy pride to whatever the fuck elagabalus was doing

[ohifonlyx33]

Love how Tolkien did a freeze frame montage at the end to tell us where all his characters and their children ended up for the next 120 years or so. Some highlights include Pippin getting married and his son Faramir marrying Sam's daughter, the Lads getting named Counselors of the king, Sam packing the family up for a road trip to Gondor, and just generally everyone trying to keep in touch a little bit with everyone.

1427. Samwise is elected Mayor of the Shire. Peregrin Took marries Diamond of Long Cleeve. King Elessar issues an edict that Men are not to enter the Shire, and he makes it a Free Land under the protection of the Northern Sceptre.

1430. Faramir, son of Peregrin, born. 1431. Goldilocks, daughter of Samwise, born.

1432. Meriadoc, called the Magnificent, becomes Master of Buckland. Great gifts are sent to him by King Éomer of Rohan and the Lady Éowyn of Ithilien.

1434. Peregrin becomes the Took and Thain. King Elessar makes the Thain, the Master, and the Mayor Counsellors of the North-kingdom.

1436. King Elessar rides north, and […] comes to the Brandywine Bridge, and there greets his friends. He gives the Star of the Dúnedain to Master Samwise, and Elanor is made a maid of honor to Queen Arwen.

1442. Master Samwise and his wife and Elanor ride to Gondor and stay there for a year.

1451. Elanor the Fair marries Fastred of Greenholm on the Far Downs.

1454. Elfstan Fairbairn, son of Fastred and Elanor, is born.

1455. Fastred and Elanor make their dwelling at Undertowers on the Tower Hills, where their descendents, the Fairbairns of the Towers, dwelt for many generations.

1463. Faramir Took, son of Peregrin, marries Goldilocks, daughter of Samwise. 1469. Master Samwise becomes Mayor for the seventh and last time, being in 1476, at the end of his office, ninety-six years old.

1482. Death of Mistress Rose, wife of Master Samwise, on Mid-year's Day. On September 22, Master Samwise rides out from Bag End. He comes to the Tower Hills, and is last seen by Elanor, to whom he gives the Red Book afterwards kept by the Fairbairns. Among them the tradition is handed down from Elanor that Samwise passed the Towers, and went to the Grey Havens, and passed over Sea, last of the Ring-bearers. 1484. In the spring of the year a message came from Rohan to Buckland that King Éomer wished to see Master Holdwine once again. Meriadoc was then old (102) but still hale. He took counsel with his friend the Thain, and soon after they handed over their goods and offices to their sons and rode away over the Sarn Ford, and they were not seen again in the Shire. It was heard after that Master Meriadoc came to Edoras and was with King Éomer before he died in that autumn. Then he and Thain Peregrin went to Gondor and passed what short years were left to them in that realm, until they died and were laid in Rath Dinen among the great of Gondor. 1541 In this year on March 1st came at last the Passing of King Elessar. It is said that the beds of Meriadoc and Peregrin were set beside the bed of the great king. Then Legolas built a grey ship in Ithilien, and sailed down Anduin and so over Sea, and with him, it is said, went Gimli the Dwarf. And when that ship passed an end was come in Middle-earth of the Fellowship of the Ring.

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

Reading Lessons

it's been a while, because school and work has been a bitch, but I finally was able to put that on pause for a bit recently after getting sick, and I wrote a ton! Fluff for today (with a tiny smidge of angst), with the prompt "grabbing their hand to show them something" from this prompt list with Elliot and Princess Hestia. takes place during the book Handsome and the Beast.

Wordcount: 1484

Warnings: none

FSF Taglist: @rose-bookblood @chalcid @evethenovicewriter @writing-is-a-martial-art @thatprolificauthor @fiercely-raging-writer

General Taglist: @enchanted-lightning-aes @thatprolificauthor @wip-nook @writeblrsupport

~~~🌹~~~

The blizzard continued to rage outside the castle, and Elliot was fine with that. He always kept a few books on him in his bag for any situation, and he had three of his favorites with him.

After checking in on Dahlia in the cozy stables, he found a room with a comfy chair and a fireplace and settled down with his book. The book was a funny and dramatic one, about a pair of twins who got separated in a shipwreck, pretended to be the other, and hilarious adventures ensue as people believed they were the same person while neither twin knows that the other is there.

Embers brought him tea and biscuits from the kitchen, and left him to read in peace.

He was likely in there for half the day when there was a soft knock on the entryway. Hestia stood there, nervously shifting from foot to foot. “I- um… I just-” She nervously bit her lip. “I want show you… something… Please.”

A shy smile crept across Elliot’s face, and he gave her a short nod. “Alright.” He’d barely gotten up and closed his book before Hestia darted over, grabbed his hand- and raced out of the room with him on tow.

Several dark hallways and corridors later, she pulled him up to a large set of double doors- they were tall, made of dark oak with ornate handles and gold detailing.

Once he caught his breath, Elliot asked, “So, what did you want to show me?”

Hestia turned to the door, “Right, um… uh, close your eyes.”

He laughed a little, but covered his eyes. Hestia pulled the doors open, the old but sturdy oak creaking loudly and falling open with a large boom.

“Can I look yet?” He asked.

“Uh, wait,” Hestia said, gently grabbing his shoulders and moving him to the side a bit. Then she moved behind him and said, “Alright, open your eyes.”

Elliot opened his eyes and found himself standing before the biggest library he’d ever seen in his life. The biggest one he’d ever seen before that was just one little bookshop in the village with just two small shelves, and his family’s library at home had one shelf that covered a whole wall (and most of the shelf space was taken up by knick knacks and sculptures). But this… There had to be at least a hundred shelves in the huge room that reached all the way from floor to ceiling, with tall rolling ladders to reach the highest shelves, and books filling every inch of each shelf. 

And that wasn’t even counting the walls lined with even more shelves of books, with staircases leading up to narrow stretches of balconies to walk along the shelves. The room was so tall and wide it could easily fit the entire village square and two of it’s tallest buildings inside the space before him alone. On the other end of the room, a large fireplace sat, already lit. At least a dozen soft, dark red armchairs and small tables were clustered before the fireplace. 

The shelves and books were all covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs, but the idea that there was a whole treasure trove of books that he’d be the first to read in ages made Elliot giddy with excitement. 

Elliot’s mouth was still hanging open as he slowly entered the library, turning in a circle and trying to estimate how many books there must be. Finally, he turned back to Hestia and excitedly whispered, “You didn’t tell me your castle had a library! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!” He kept his voice low for fear that too loud of a sound would turn all of the ancient books to dust. “And it’s so big, Mother Hallya, it’s so huge I’ve never seen so many books..…”

Hestia gave him a small smile. “I-... To be honest, I forgot that we had one, until Embers mentioned that he and Flicker can’t dust in here because one slight movement from them would set the whole castle on fire, so it would have to go untouched. I noticed how you always have a book in your hand and you read every chance you get, so I figured you would give this library the attention it deserves.” 

She gestured vaguely to the packed and dusty shelves. “It’s yours.”

Elliot’s eyes widened at that. “Mine? All of this?” He laughed a little. “You’re serious?”

“You’re the only one in this castle who can come in here without running the risk of burning the whole place down, so, yes. It’s yours if you want it. If you want to clean it up a bit and get rid of the dust, I’m sure Embers and Flicker will help you find things.”

Elliot darted over and threw his arms around her, jumping up and down. He thanked her at least a million times and giddily rambled about what he was going to do first and what kind of books must be in here and he’s never seen so many books in his life and he was definitely going to start dusting right away-

He went over to the closest shelf, brushed off some of the dust and cobwebs, and gingerly pulled out a book. It was dark green, the leather cracked and dried with age, the pages yellowed and rough, and traces of gold engraving in the leather cover chipping away. He blew the last of the dust off the cover, and opened it to the first page. Not two lines in he started jumping up and down again excitedly.

“Do you know what this is?!” He asked Hestia, the grin on his face getting bigger by the second.

Hestia let out a small giggle. “No, but, I’d love to hear you tell me.”

“It’s an original copy of Sir William Von Romanovans’s book, By the Wayside! The first copies he had made were in thick green leather covers, but only twenty of them ever existed! I have a copy of a copy with a thin brown cover that’s falling off, I’m pretty sure that edition was made years after he died, and that edition is missing pages from the original. I can’t believe I’m holding a real, original copy in my hands right now!” He flipped through the pages and sniffed the paper scent with a satisfied sigh. “Oh, smells like comedy and adventure.” 

He asked her, “Have you read this one?”

Hestia twisted the already shredded fabric of her dress in her hands, and muttered, “It’s been a very long time since I’ve read anything. And even then it wasn’t much because I was so scared of burning the book.”

Elliot nodded, tucking the book under his arm. “You don’t know how to read?”

She shrugged. “I know some words, and I can speak very well, but that’s about it.”

He nodded and bit his lip, thinking. Then he said, “Do you… want to learn… how to read?”

Hestia looked around the library, scanning the shelves of books. Finally, she gave him a hesitant nod.

“Great! Could you wait for a moment, please?” He walked across the room, and started scouring the shelves, dusting off the spines of books to read their titles until he found what he was looking for and plucked it off the shelf, blowing at the dust that coated the cover and spine.

With the two books under his arm, he gently grabbed Hestia’s hand and lead her out of the library and back to the drawing room where he’d been reading earlier. 

Then they sat down on the small sofa, and Elliot opened the second book he’d picked out. The leather cover was dark red, the engravings having chipped away a long time ago, leaving only rough ridges and valleys in their place. Upon opening the book out of the poetry section, he found the pages not only yellow with age, but the edges burned and curling at the edges.

Hestia squeezed her eyes shut. “Yeah, I, uh… burned that one. Stopped trying to read after that.”

“You don’t have to touch the pages to read if you’re worried about setting it on fire,” Elliot told her, “You just need someone to hold the book for you.” He gently turned pages in the book until he found a short poem that he liked, and held it up so they could both read it. “Here, how many of those words do you know?”

Slowly, Hestia read the words she could recognize, stumbling over the sounds. With some encouragement from Elliot, she was able to read the words more smoothly, and even finished a whole sentence.

They stayed on the sofa in front of the fireplace for the rest of the day, reading the book of poetry until both were so tired they could barley keep their eyes open.

[helpimhyperfixating]

May we have 6taro telling FtM reader that “You are a man, through-and-through.” Calling reader handsome, and other masculine compliments. Maybe Joot saying “I know you’re a man, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a dumbass.”

I need some comfort rn 🥲 tysm ♥️

Of course!! I do hope you are feeling better anon! I hope this helps!! I don’t really have experience with this but I tried and hope I didn’t fuck something up. Go be awesome! ❤️❤️

You Are - Jotaro x Trans! Reader

Word Count: 1484

Walking through town with your husband, Jotaro, the two of you were happily spending your day off together.

The sun was shining as you walked hand in hand. The day so far was pretty relaxed and fun. You and Jotaro had just walked around sightseeing, later on going to a small café for something to drink and some small baked goods. Afterwards the two of you walked deeper into the city, window shopping.

It still surprised you how much of a fashionista Jotaro could be. It might not always be the most conventional things that he picked out and wore, but he always put some thought into it, even finding enjoyment in doing so. And, though he’d never admit it, window shopping was something he very much liked to do.

And thus you gladly came along to help, occasionally pointing to some clothing items stalled out in the windows that you think he might enjoy, or answering his questions when he asked what you thought of a particular thing.

Jotaro was thinking of maybe updating his current outfit a little, since the snakeskin pants seemed to garner a bit too much attention for his tastes. Even though he didn’t care most of the time.

Your laughter rang through the air at Jotaro’s deadpan face after you had pointed out some neon orange pants to him. He sighed and tipped his hat down with his free hand, saying his famous words, making you laugh even more.

You suddenly realised how much noise you were making and tried to stop yourself, a big grin still on your face while Jotaro rolled his eyes and just tugged on your arm to take you past the shop with the terrible pants. You snickered at his childish behaviour and your eyes just happened to roam around when something caught your attention.

You didn’t know if it was your imagination or not but it felt like those two across the street were staring, discreetly whispering to each other. Your smile fell a bit and you looked around but no, you and Jotaro were the only ones in this vicinity. And then, crossing the street just ahead of the two of you, a couple walked past hand in hand. More specifically: a man and woman.

Unconsciously, you stiffened up, your smile now completely gone and tightly squeezing the hand you were holding. Jotaro looked at you, taking in your expression and furrowing his brows at what he saw; you were staring off in the distance, seemingly lost in thought but with creased brows. You were just smiling so brightly a few seconds ago and Jotaro turned to see what you were looking at.

“Hey.”

You faintly heard the voice but were too lost in thought for it to really register and Jotaro cursed softly to himself.

It was plain as day to him that you were starting to get dysphoria. He had been with you long enough to see the signs. Not much else would suddenly make you do a 180 like that and it hurt the 40 year old that it could still creep up on you like this.

Something was suddenly plopped on your head, breaking you from your almost trance as you jumped, your vision dark as something heavy was on your head and blocking your eyes.

“Jotaro?”

“C’mon, let’s go home.” He started coaxing you along, going back to where you parked the car and you sort of just... followed.

Realising his hat was still on your head, you reached up to take it off and give it back, but Jotaro didn’t even turn around as he continued dragging you along while saying, “Leave it. You can keep it on.”

Meekly nodding, you just left it as it was and allowed him to whisk you away with him, hiding your face behind the brim.

Reaching the car in no time, the two of you got in and you decided to take this time to put his hat back on his head after all.

Jotaro sighed softly as he looked at you but as soon as it was on his head you were looking down at your lap and picking at your hands.

You loved Jotaro, you really really did. But sometimes, when these thoughts came up in you, it was just hard to look at him. He was the picture of the ideal man. Handsome, muscular, strong, reliable. And, in these moments, you just felt like you were anything but. And looking at him could hurt.

Your hand being grabbed brought you back to the present as Jotaro held it firmly while pulling it a little closer to himself, keeping his wrist on the gearstick. He wasn’t looking at you, just giving you a moment to yourself while still comfortingly holding your hand.

Three of his fingers were still curled around yours while he used his thumb and pinky to move the gear stick, getting out of the parking spot and driving away, back home.

- - - -

The moment the door was closed and the rest of the world was shut out, Jotaro wasted no time in pulling you towards him. His arms tightly wrapping around you and pulling you against himself as he tightly held you.

“Put it out of your head.” He softly spoke and that broke the floodgates, your head falling onto his shoulder as you hugged him back, finding comfort in his hold.

Jotaro just simply held you, his right hand moving up eventually to card through your hair as he lightly scratched the back of your head.

Only once you had slightly calmed down and pulled back did Jotaro let go.

“What happened?” He questioned and you raised your head a bit to look up at him.

“Across the street there were these two... And, I don’t know, they were just looking in distaste.” You softly spoke, remembering the looks on their faces as they looked at you, only making you feel worse. Jotaro replied before you could spiral further however.

“They saw two men walking hand in hand. Homophobes are never gonna stop.” He said with a bit of distaste, clearly angry with those people.

At this you bit your lip and shook your head however. “No, I think they noticed that I... was not born this way.”

The moment you said that, Jotaro gripped your shoulders, actively making you look at him as he held a stern gaze. “Y/N, there is nothing to notice. You look like a man, you sound like a man, you act like a man, you are a man, through-and-through.”

“But there is so much wrong with me! And I’m not the one you fell in love with those years ago... Maybe you would rather be with a wo-“

Jotaro didn’t even let you finish your sentence as he grabbed hold of your face, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. And he didn’t even bat an eye as he spoke, “Y/N, I am gay. And by fuck am I gay for you.”

“But you used to-“

“-Exactly. I used to. I am no longer attracted to women just like you no longer are one. You are my husband. Don’t let your brain or anyone for that matter tell you otherwise. And I wouldn’t even want anyone else so don’t ever entertain that thought again.”

He almost sounded genuinely offended as he said the last sentence and his confession had you swallowing the lump in your throat, your heart thumping loudly. It was clear that Jotaro was waiting for a response so you nodded while your lips turned up ever so slightly at his words. “So, we’re not getting a divorce anytime soon?” You joked a little weakly and Jotaro scoffed.

“We are not getting a divorce fucking ever.” A small silence fell and Jotaro’s eyes softened before he broke it. “Y/N, I love you. You’re handsome, good looking, you’re strong and so fucking manly it kills me sometimes.” His hand ran over your arm, his eyes following the movement before he looked at your face again. “I am so proud of who you are and who you’ve become.”

“I-“ You couldn’t even say anything beyond that, just closing your mouth again, and Jotaro re-gripped your head to get your eyes on him again.

“I know you’re a man, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a dumbass.”

“So right now-?”

“You are a real big fucking idiot, yes.” Jotaro confirmed but the tiny quirk of his lips near the end and the loving look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“Ouch.” You remarked, but the small smile fighting its way onto your face could not be denied.

“I love you, Y/N.” With that, Jotaro wrapped his arms around your waist while you automatically put your hands on his hips as he connected his lips with yours and kissed you.

[richmond-rex]

Ooh, I didn't know Cecily was friendly with Henry Tudor? Do you think that's particularly telling about her relationship with Richard, or was it just pragmatist on her part, to make nice with the new regime?

Hi, anon! I think you're referring to what I said here. I don't know if we can classify her actions as 'friendly' as much 'well-disposed' towards Henry VII, that is, not bearing any ill will. Besides the use she made of Henry's trusted servants and the stuff she left for him in her will, we also know there's no proof that she ever aided Henry's enemies or lent a hand to her daughter Margaret's endeavours to unseat him— and as the rich dowager duchess of York her help could be considerable. Henry VII in his turn might have been friendly towards her: we know he paid her minstrels at least once, probably on an occasion when the duchess was present for the celebrations. That Cecily left some of her religious books to Margaret Beaufort might also explain the friendly dynamic that the new royal family was able to establish.

That said, I don't know much about Cecily, I haven't researched her that well. I read once on a blog somewhere (and they gave no sources for that claim) that after her death some of her servants joined some conspiracies against Henry VII. I think it speaks volumes that they waited until her death to turn against the king though, doesn't it? It also couldn’t imply any personal animosity towards Henry VII, considering that one of Cecily’s servants, William Collingbourne, rose against her own son Richard III in 1484. The fact is that Cecily styled herself as 'the queen's grandmother' during Henry VII's reign and I think that speaks for Elizabeth of York's position of prestige more than people realise.

As to her relationship with Richard III, it’s all very nebulous. Richard III committed his coup whilst lodged in her London residence of Baynard's Castle, but it's interesting to notice that she stressed in her last will that Edward IV was indeed the son of her husband the Duke of York, emphasising to the very end that she had not committed adultery despite the rumours that her son George, and later possibly Richard, spread or suggested.

I, Cecily, wife unto the right noble prince Richard, late Duke of York, father unto the most Christian prince my Lord and son King Edward the iiiith, the first day of April the year of our Lord 1495 [...] make and ordain my testament in form and manner ensuing.

I know there are some who don't believe that Richard (like his brother George) suggested Edward IV was illegitimate even though it was mentioned in Mancini's contemporary report detailing Richard III's usurpation. They claim that Mancini was simply anti-Richard III (even though Mancini was also anti-Woodville by the same logic). It might be that Mancini was only repeating the rumours that had been circulating since George’s time and Richard had nothing to do with them, but it is undeniable that the bastardy suggestion is also implicit in the Titulus Regius declaration stating Richard III's right to rule:

[...] we consider how you are the undoubted son and heir of Richard, late duke of York, very inheritor of the said crown and dignity royal … and how you were born within this land.

It seems Cecily did not hold it against him at the time though, considering Richard had been lodged in her residence. He also visited his mother in Berkhamsted in May 1485 and may have stayed with her for a few days. She either didn't hold it against him — perhaps his allegations were all too subtle to cause offence, perhaps he claimed or pointed out that other people have been spreading those rumours, not him — or perhaps she felt like she had no choice but to follow her familial duty to support him. In that same way, Cecily may have felt she had no choice but to follow her familial duty to support her granddaughter Elizabeth and, by extension, Henry VII. However, she could have supported the rebellion that meant to crown the son of her other son George, Edward of Warwick, or she could have offered to lend her credence to Perkin Warbeck’s story like her daughter Margaret did, yet she did not.

[late-nite-scholar]

Day 7- Ancient/Ceremony

Prompt used- Both

@tes-summer-fest

Wordcount- 1484

Warnings- None

A successful job that turns to a bit of sweetness at the end (hinting at spicy after).  Set in early-game Skyrim.

***

I looked up from my book as Ria stuck her head through our doorway and asked. “Did you hear about the party tomorrow night?” 

“No? Who’s having a party?” 

“They’re having a planting ceremony for that new Gildergreen tree we brought back. It’s going to be a big celebration for the whole city. We need to go! After all, we did make it all happen!” She twirled, presenting a rather official-looking missive with a flourish. “Look, they sent the Companions an invitation!”  

“This sounds like fun,” I agreed, looking over the paper. “I don’t have anything besides my regular clothes to wear, but I suppose that’s fine. We can still have a good time.”

“Oh no, we will go and find you something nice to wear. We’re going down to the market and we are going to find you an outfit right now. You cannot be a guest of honor in armor and travel-stained clothes.” She put her hands on her hips. “Besides, it’ll be fun. Sometimes I like that bit of change, like putting on a costume and being someone else.”

“Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me! Let’s do it. I could stand to have some nice clothes.”

 ***

 About half an hour later, standing in a tailor’s shop, I began to have misgivings. Mother Morwha, what have I gotten myself into? Ria seemed to have a rather specific idea of what I should get, and it was obvious now that her and I were not on the same page. 

I stood in front of a body-length mirror, looking at myself in a soft, blue dress overlaid with a brown girdle and apron. The dress had long sleeves, but the neckline was off-the-shoulder and quite low. The girdle pushed my bust up, and I worried about spilling out if I leaned over. 

“I don’t think this is for me.” I frowned at my reflection.

“Divines above, you’re picky.” Ria shook her head. “Let’s see what else we can find.”

A few outfits later I discovered one I liked. This one was more layers, too. An underdress of grey with elbow-length sleeves, over which went a dark yellow, sleeveless overdress that reminded me of a tabard. Over all of this went a blue apron the length of the overdress that was decorated with Nordic scrollwork in a dull gold. The whole works was belted together around the waist and finished with a fur shoulder-cape held with two large pins and a chain between them. 

“Okay, that one actually really works on you,” Ria admitted. 

And so that was the one I bought. I thanked Tall Papa that I’d just gotten off a good job, and had the extra coin for it, because it was a little pricey. But it was nice to have it. 

 ***

 Ria insisted we get ready together the next day, and I was more than happy to do so. I certainly wasn’t going to do so with Njada, who still gave me poisonous looks when she passed and sneered in my general direction. 

After we dressed, Ria began to brush her hair into an elaborate, Cyrodilian style. I braided mine in two plaits, starting from the front all the way to the back. I coiled the braids at the back of my head, pinning them down. Once done, I helped Ria finish hers. Then I smiled. 

"We look good!" 

 "Good?' She adjusted her soft, green girdle, pushing up her cleavage a little more. "We look great! Let's go see if everyone else is ready!" 

 The hall was almost empty as we reached the top of the stairs. Only Aela was left, standing by the door wearing a massive cloak of pure, white fur held by elaborate gold pins. She gave us a wry smile. 

 "The others have gone ahead. I… I just need a moment before I join in. This is the first celebration I will be attending alone in some time." 

 "I understand. Take all the time you need." I wondered then if Skjor had given her the cloak, or if they’d hunted its source together.  

 "You two should go. The others are waiting for you outside. After all, this is your doing. You should be out there receiving the glory you deserve." She shooed us off toward the door. 

 As we began to descend the stairs from Jorrvaskr down to where the large, ancient tree had once stood, all eyes fell on us. I took a deep breath, not relishing being the sudden center of attention. And it wasn’t just the Companions waiting for us. Practically all of Whiterun was in the process of gathering for the planting. It really would be a city-wide event. It filled me with warmth to see, even if so many eyes looking in my direction made me nervous. 

 It was better once we got to the bottom and folded in with the rest of the Companions. Everyone looked so nice, and it made me glad that Ria had insisted on new clothes. Kodlak greeted us both warmly, resplendent in fur-trimmed finery in white and dark blue. 

 “Ah, you’ve arrived, Sisters! And just in time, the priestess will be starting soon, and this honor is yours, after all!” He clapped us both on the back. 

 “The honor is for us all, for the glory of the Companions,” I replied. 

 “Well, today you two are the guests of the hour, we’re just here by association.” He smiled. “Your own honor is just as important, my dear, as the group’s. Don’t be humble.”

 Ria was happy to mingle and talk up the citizens. Soon she was out in the crowd recounting the tale of our adventure. I stayed back a bit, talking with Ulfberth and Adrianne instead. When they moved on, I began to wander. The rest of our brothers and sisters had dissipated into the throng, leaving me alone. It made me realize that I didn’t know as many people in Whiterun yet as I thought I did. 

 It was near the turnoff into the Temple of Kynareth that I finally spotted some familiar faces. A tall fellow and what appeared to be a couple of his friends were talking with the twins, who looked quite dashing in dark, fur trimmed cloaks over belted tunics thickly embroidered with gold thread. Vilkas was in deep green, Farkas in rich burgundy. I headed toward them a little hesitantly, not wanting to interrupt. 

 But Vilkas caught sight of me anyway. He frowned a little, then broke into a laugh. “Sister, I hardly recognized you! Come and join us. Avulstein, this is our Shield-Sister Besharat. Besharat, this is Eorlund’s son.” 

 “Well met,” I said graciously as we shook hands. Then he and Vilkas were back into whatever they’d been discussing and I stepped back and let them continue. 

 I found myself standing beside Farkas and on the periphery of the ongoing conversation. He was staring at me as if I’d transformed into Leki herself, and my face suddenly felt very warm. I could only hope I wasn’t blushing too obviously. My heart sped up as he reached out and took my hand in his. When he started to step back, I followed. 

 He led me up alongside the wall of the temple, until we found a quiet spot. Now it was just the two of us. 

 “You look so beautiful tonight.” His hand slid around my waist, resting in the small of my back. 

 I flustered badly. “You’re too kind.”

 “I see it every day. This just makes everyone see it.” He tilted my chin up with gentle fingers, brushing them along my jaw as he leaned down to kiss me. My body reacted more strongly than I anticipated, arching itself against him as my hands slipped around those big, broad shoulders. 

 If only it could’ve lasted forever. But eventually, he pulled away. Our eyes met, and I was enraptured. I drowned in their silver depths, lost to the outside world.

 “Besharat…”

 “Farkas?” I wanted so badly to drag him back to the hall right this moment and finally give in to my desire. Even right here would’ve been fine, despite the lack of privacy. 

 “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” The low growl of his voice made my whole body ache in the most frustratingly delicious way. 

 “Me, too.” 

 “Besharat, when we get back to Jorrvaskr, would you…?”

 “Sweet Mother Morwha, yes.” I interrupted. 

 A sudden hush fell out in the crowd, and we heard the priestess, Danica, begin to speak. We looked at one another, then wordlessly made our way back. It wouldn’t do to miss the ceremony, after all. And they’d notice if we weren’t there. We’d just make up for it later.     

 So we stood, hand-in-hand, and watched as a new Gildergreen came to Whiterun. And in our hearts, knowing we were also beginning down a new path. Together.