#thread: cormac

[girlgvn]

💗 — closed starter tagging: @unr3als

"yeah, work was fucked, don't know where the fuck some people get off..." without a look under cormac's desk, it would appear like a typical sight, a guy wearing a headset, locked deep into a game with friends online as he takes a load off after work. it only takes a second glance to notice the way one of his hands shifts under the desk between rounds, running a hand gently over the head of the girl perched under the desk between his legs, desperately nuzzling at the hardening bulge between his legs. she goes mostly ignored for now, cormac is waiting for desperation to build, waiting until he needs her mouth.

[midnightsaboteur]

@writermuses

continued from [x]

As Cormac regarded the woman, he soon put two and two together. Whispers about the skyrocketing podcast had been circling campus for a few days, and several professors within the department had been granted the chance for an interview with the apparently magnetising host. Now that she stood mere feet from Cormac, he could see the appeal, albeit in an admittedly lewd sense as his gaze dropped down to admire her long legs. Being one of the far more junior assistant professors, Cormac’s name wasn’t prominent or prestigious enough to warrant being chosen for the interviews, yet fate had intervened to give him a chance to at least meet the popular host, albeit in rather bizarre circumstances.

Mahal’s question made Cormac shrug. He didn’t need even more than a second to say “No, not really. He’s old and pompous and isn’t with the modern world at all.” It was a risque thing to say to a podcaster, but Cormac had no qualms about it. He saw no sense hiding his true views, not when he’d already previewed them, and he imagined she had some kind of principle about ‘off the record’ at the same time. Thoughts of Professor Winters however soon disappeared from Cormac’s mind as Mahal approached him, her vague musing about ‘something else’ making the smirk grow on his features, as did how she took the book from him and set it back down. “Oh yeah?” Cormac queried, sensing flirtation. “You dived in here awful quick… fleeing from admirers, I imagine?”

[oflowtides]

closed starter for @hauntcdtales (talon) location: wolfe's den

It wasn't fair to say that Cormac avoided his brother - but he didn't really go out of his way to spend time with him, either. More often than not, they just happened to be at the same place. Maybe it was something in their DNA.

"Hey Tal," Cormac greeted, seating himself next to his older brother. "Haven't seen you in a while. Thought maybe you got arrested."

[caraecethrae]

I need to buckle down and figure out what my personal understanding of Ceirt/Cert is.

it's fascinating how it seems to have these two diametrically opposing possible meanings (not unlike nGétal), one being tied to coir and right judgment and kingship, which actually fits apple extremely well folklorically, and one connected to madness, misfortune, sacrifice, and illness, which fit both potential etymologies of either Rag or Bush.

it seemed clear to me in the past that the secondary meaning had to be original, especially given my/the bias against the crannogham, but it's still very frustratingly simple that the current Modern Irish meaning is Rightness.

perhaps the meaning of the word shifted to match the evolving understanding of the fid, given the medieval love for the arboreal and more recentness of the Immrama? of course that's a reach but ...

[gypsybelladonna]

tag drop for cormac boyle

[asundcr]

"I think need for toppings is really flavor dependent." Eren insisted — he had more ice cream opinions than he thought he did, "A flavor like vanilla? Needs toppings. But rocky road or peanut butter chip? Basically already comes with toppings." He grinned, "Well, I hope you're at least a jumbo waffle cone kinda guy then." Eren's personal favorite. He took a deep breath as he stepped up, being a bit overdramatic on purpose as he trained his smile on the cashier, "Uhhh, two scoops on cookie dough on a big waffle cone please." He looked to Cormac and teasingly asked, "You approve of my decision? I'll have to get the chocolate marshmallow next time. I'll be thinkin' of you, number one chocolate fan, while I enjoy." He joked, chuckling.

"Sorry, bud. Chocolate ice cream is rank. Nothing will change my mind on that," Cormac argued, but a laugh followed to let the other man know he was just bantering. It was ice cream, so it didn't really matter. That's when Cormac looked at the other man like he was the crazy one. "Are you mad? The more toppings, the better. It's like a whole other treat before the main dish!" Cormac grinned. He shoved as many on as he could and enjoyed every mouthful. "Ooo, now you're talking my language..." he licked his lips and rubbed his hands together. "Oh, don't you worry about that... I'll be having a cone and two big scoops covered in all sorts of goodness." Cormac placed his order with excitement. He hadn't treated himself to ice cream in a while, but with a night off from Gabby, he had to get his kicks some way. "You're up... what's it going to be?"

[emeritusemeritus]

Hi! I love your writings! I’m obsessed with jealous fred weasley so if you could write a one shot with whatever you’d like :)))

(If you hate just ignore pls lol)

Hi love! Thank you so much, this has been a lot of fun to write. I’ve been sat watching Goblet of Fire, took one look at Fred in this scene and knew it just had to be long hair Freddie because it makes me feral. Hope you enjoy! 🖤

Warnings: bit of swearing, mild sexual references. Fred gets jealous and a little possessive. Talks of marriage. Sorry McLaggen I needed a villain.

Word count: 1k

A cold heart and a warm jumper

Jealousy wasn't something Fred Weasley ever felt.

He knew his family weren't rich, that they'd never have the best of anything or anything new in abundance and so from a young age, he'd made peace with it and learned not to envy others. Being one of seven kids and most importantly a twin in a family that was already stretched both financially and emotionally, he'd had to learn to share, virtually from the day he was born. He'd shared clothes, toys, his room, practically his entire life with George, even a uterus and placenta, though he didn't care to think about that.

But now, watching Cormac McLaggen leering over the one thing in his life that he absolutely refused to share, he felt the unfamiliar rise of the green eyed monster throughout his entire body.

Godric he hated that slimy little prick. With his stupid blonde curls and the smug little smile that Fred really wanted to slap off his face right now, regardless of his rich daddy and any consequences that would inevitably follow.

The common room was a blaze with celebration, Harry’s victory in joint first place of the first task had been wildly celebrated by each and every Gryffindor and even Ron had joined in after being such a miserable git for a month. But even with the chaos and jubilant celebration around him, as well as a decent profit they’d made on taking the bets during the task, Fred was not in the mood for a party.

Despite it being the end of November, Fred’s striped jumper and beige overcoat suddenly felt like they were suffocating him as he stared at the corner where McLaggen leaned suggestively ogling his girlfriend, reaching out to touch her arm and shifting ever closer to where she stood. He was getting hotter by the second, burning up with anger and jealousy as he looked in disgust at the slimy sod. Who did he think he was to be stood so close to Fred’s girl? They’d been together years, it was hardly like nobody knew that she was his.

But then he heard your girlish giggle and his blood seemed to run cold. You were openly laughing with him, playing with a strand of your hair and making no move to shut down his advances.

He’d had enough and was just ready to march over and make Cormac choke down a puking pastille when he watched you take off your coat, throwing it over the chair behind you and taking a step back to avoid Cormac’s over familiar hands as they reached out for you again. Fred’s heart pounded as he looked at what you were wearing so proudly, his quidditch jumper with his surname displayed right across the back. He remembered now how you’d complained of being cold just before you left to view the task and he’d nipped up to his dorm to retrieve a warm jumper for you. He knew it wasn’t the nicest sweater, there was a hole in the left armpit that had been stitched back together with a completely different coloured thread and a great big pull in the fabric on the right sleeve but you’d worn it with pride. Your face had lit up when he held it out to you and you’d tried to sneakily smell it with a cute smile before you threw it over your head, tying up your hair so you could show off his surname now displayed across your back.

Watching you now, he realised how wrong he’d been. You were inching away from McLaggen, body turned away and looking for any sign of escape, the fingers in your hair a simple mechanism to block him from reaching out to you.

Fred was on his feet in seconds, almost trampling a load of first years who were sat in the pathway as he stalked over to where you were standing, his eyes fixed upon the letters across your back.

“Weasley,” he whispers in your ear as a greeting, immediately stepping behind you and placing his hand on the curve of your bum. You jump slightly at the sudden intrusion but recover quickly as you realise it’s him behind you. Fred watched as a smirk blossomed across your face as you realised, pressing your hips back just slightly as a form of acknowledgment, backing up into his hand which he squeezed, getting a good grip of your bum.

“This looks very good on you,” he whispers again into your ear, bending down just enough so that only you could hear how deep and breathy his voice had become. He reaches out with his left hand to glide it over your hip to your waist, tugging on the fabric of the jumper just enough that you’d understand exactly what he meant.

“The jumper or the name?” You smirk, earning another squeeze of your bum for your cheekiness, both of you openly ignoring McLaggen who is still trying to talk to you.

“Both,” Fred smirks, the tip of his nose catching on your hair, his lips moving dangerously closely to the smooth skin of your neck.

“If you don’t mind McLaggen, me and the Mrs have business to attend to,” Fred says suddenly, not even looking at Cormac who briefly considers if he does mind or not, mouth opening as if he is about to protest.

Fred doesn’t even give him a chance and simply throws his right arm around your shoulders and pulls you away with a shit eating grin on his face. His hand slips back towards your bum as you’re walking away, his hand slipping into your jeans pocket as he pulls you close to him, asserting his place. He can’t help but smirk as he directs you towards the stairs to the dorms, knowing that Cormac is still watching the pair of you and he takes a sick pleasure in knowing the last thing McLaggen will see of you tonight is Fred’s hand in your jeans as he takes you to his dorm; with his surname plastered in large letters across your back. The same surname that will be yours in just a couple of years, if Fred gets his way.

Maybe he should invite Cormac to the wedding.

[girlgvn]

💗 — closed starter tagging: @infervor

had been rocia's suggestion of course, one made with a cheeky glint in her chocolate brown eyes, glossed lips weaving a web, helping to form the trap. we should show each other our favourites. illicit, lewd videos played on the screen of her phone as she held it up, the two of them going from one that anna had picked to one she liked, something much rougher with a girl and her 'brother'. a specific choice, of course, another element of the little plan she'd concocted, but she was pleasantly surprised as he gaze shifted to her friend to see her squirming the way she was. "oh my god, you like this one." she pointed out, a smug smile on her face. "are you wet right now?"

[midnightsaboteur]

@littlewrensx

continued from [x]

It didn’t take Cormac more than a second to recognise Olivia. Classically, teachers and professors tended to register students who did everything required of them and didn’t fail or act up in their classes. Olivia was one such diligent student, and among the best in his numbers, Cormac reflected. As she apologised, Cormac simply smiled and shrugged. 

“No need to be sorry,” he told her, although her statement about hiding out made him quirk an eyebrow. “You come in here regularly, yeah? Interesting. I thought I was the only one who knew about this hidey hole,” Cormac mused, the thought then entering his mind as to who else knew about it too. However, as Olivia spoke again, Cormac returned his focus to her and he nodded to her question. “It’s alright, be my guest. This isn’t my office and technically it’s a study space…”

[midnightsaboteur]

As they resumed kissing, Cormac kept sighing contently, a smile never far from his lips. The gentle touch of Winona’s fingertips along his skin and in his hair prompted goosebumps alongside a slight quickening of his heartbeat. When Winona pulled away to begin kissing along his cheek, Cormac chuckled affectionately and remained in place, his easy posture and knowing grin indicating just how he approved of such affectionate worship. Soon, Winona buried her face in his neck, prompting Cormac to rest his cheek easily against her shoulder, the two in a perfect embrace and topped off delightfully by how he remained inside her. He listened to her musings about what they might do next, and when she finished, Cormac smiled gently again. He pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder before murmuring “You could never cause me stress, babe.” He allowed a moment for the sentiment to sink in. “I’m sure of being with you too, and that’s all I need. No matter what we label ourselves, or what we tell people in the next few weeks and months… I’m good so long as I’ve got you by my side every day, love.” 

@utterxdesires

Winona smiled at him lightly as he agreed to stay like this for as long as she'd like. Getting close with Cormac was a breath of fresh air in so many ways, he actually listened and respected her wishes, went along with her desires, and Winona was of course aware of the fact it went both ways. She was ready to give him so much because she loved him, truly and deeply. Kissing him back, she ran fingers through his hair, her movements gentle, affectionate. The kiss was soft and eventually she began dragging her lips across his cheek before she pulled him closer and just buried her face in his neck. "You know... we don't have to label this - I mean, us, right now."Winona murmured into his skin. "Things will probably be a bit awkward with our friends after the break up, I don't want to cause stress onto you... I am sure of being with you, though. That's all I want and need."she added in the end and let her lips drag along his shoulder. @midnightsaboteur

[gcldcnhour]

open starter: m/f/nb muse: cormac mcintire connection: they just pulled off a robbery (bonnie/clyde type)

"holy shit! i can't believe we did it!" cormac laughed, hand slapping against the steering wheel. adrenaline pumped through him, so intoxicating he briefly wondered if he should have been driving. should they had pulled in a third accomplice to drive the getaway car? it hadn't been a huge ordeal, a small convenience store to start. to jump start their lives away from everything, bankroll their newfound freedom together. "baby, this is it. we're on our way to new lives." he looks over at his partner in crime, grin wide and animated. an unusual look for him. "you got it all right? all the money?"

[jadeshifting]

AMORTENTIA.

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　

the air in the dungeon was practically electric, a low hum of whispered gossip and barely-contained giggles rippling through the students as they slid into their seats. today was the day—Amortentia day. everyone was buzzing, eyes darting around, wondering who among them might catch a whiff of their essence in the swirling potion. the curiosity was intoxicating: what would you smell? would it reveal some secret crush, or confirm a love you hadn’t dared to voice? the thought of brewing it, learning its secrets for future use, had everyone on edge, hearts thudding with anticipation. the room was alive with possibilities, every stir of a cauldron promising revelations and maybe, just maybe, a gossamer thread connecting you to the person you’re meant to be with

WHO IS IT THAT YOU SMELL ?

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˚☽˚.⋆ MATTHEO RIDDLE. dark chocolate and crackling embers devouring wood chips, with a hint of something dark and unidentifiable

˚☽˚.⋆ DRACO MALFOY. crisp winter air and freshly polished leather, laced with a whisper of expensive cologne

˚☽˚.⋆ THEODORE NOTT. ancient parchment and sandalwood, with undertones of the forest after an unforgiving storm

˚☽˚.⋆ PANSY PARKINSON. rich jasmine and a touch of spiced vanilla, wrapped in a cloud of luxurious bergamot perfume

˚☽˚.⋆ LORENZO BERKSHIRE. sea salt and sun-warmed driftwood, with a tiny hint of freshly squeezed lime

˚☽˚.⋆ BLAISE ZABINI. luxurious cooking spices and smooth, aged whiskey, with the faintest trace of cedarwood

˚☽˚.⋆ ASTORIA GREENGRASS. soft rose petals and sweet honey, tinged with the refreshing scent of a summer breeze

˚☽˚.⋆ DAPHNE GREENGRASS. mellow lavender and fresh morning dew, layered with a whisper of crisp apple

˚☽˚.⋆ MILLICENT BULSTRODE. earthy pine and rich musk, softened by the warmth of freshly brewed coffee

˚☽˚.⋆ HARRY POTTER. freshly cut grass and a hint of broomstick polish, with the undertone of gently burned bay leaves

˚☽˚.⋆ HERMIONE GRANGER. crisp parchment and freshly brewed peppermint tea, with a subtle whiff of vanilla candle wax

˚☽˚.⋆ RON WEASLEY. warm cinnamon and rich butterbeer, tinged with the comforting scent of old wood

˚☽˚.⋆ LUNA LOVEGOOD. the ethereal scent of rain-soaked wildflowers and a hint of parchment, like secrets whispered in a moonlit meadow

˚☽˚.⋆ GINNY WEASLEY. the fiery aroma of spiced apple cider and freshly mown grass, full of warmth and untamed spirit

˚☽˚.⋆ FRED WEASLEY. fiery cloves and burnt sugar, mingling with some mysterious electric buzz

˚☽˚.⋆ GEORGE WEASLEY. smoky bonfires and caramel toffee, layered with a cheeky twist of citrus zest

˚☽˚.⋆ CEDRIC DIGGORY. golden apples and the fresh scent of a cool river breeze, tinged with warm amber

˚☽˚.⋆ NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM. freshly turned soil and blooming flowers, with a faint trace of sun-ripened strawberries

˚☽˚.⋆ CHO CHANG. delicate baby’s breath blossoms and soft raindrops, with a whisper of green tea with too much sugar

˚☽˚.⋆ CORMAC MCLAGGEN. sharp citrus and molten pine candle wax, layered with the crispness of mountain air

˚☽˚.⋆ OLIVER WOOD. freshly mown grass and clean sweat, mixed with morning dew on wood and the stirring of broom polish

˚☽˚.⋆ SEAMUS FINNEGAN. smoky campfires and a hint of spiced firewhiskey, laced with the tang of sea salt

˚☽˚.⋆ DEAN THOMAS. charcoal sketches and warm cocoa, blended with the cozy scent of old bookshops

˚☽˚.⋆ REMUS LUPIN (ooh, scandal). warm honey and worn leather, with a trace of earthy pine forests after rain

THE JUICY AFTERMATH.

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the aftermath of Amortentia class is pure, unfiltered chaos. whispers turned into gasps when Dean realized his girlfriend didn’t catch his scent in the potion—no, she smelled someone else entirely. in front of everyone, too… yikes.

.　　. 　 ˚　. meanwhile, Astoria’s cheeks turned into fiery roses when she realized she smelled the awkward Gryffindor idiot she sneered at in the hallway (RON!! WEASLEY!!), and now she had to question practically everything about herself and her sensibilities

.　　. 　 ˚　. but the real scandal? Padma smelled Professor Lupin. yep, full-on professor. she looked like she wanted to sink into the floor, but how embarrassing was it, really? (no one else wanted to admit it, but plenty of his students knew that the gentle cadence of his voice and his capable nature made them swoon in class.) friendships were tested, secrets spilled, and the whole castle buzzed with the fallout of who smelled what—and more importantly, who smelled who

WHAT DOES YOUR AMORTENTIA SMELL LIKE ?

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after all, if you know, you can zero in the moment someone else smells you—you hear someone whisper a description of your particular brand of personal fragrance, and their harbored affections for you are on full display for you to take advantage of

˚☽˚.⋆ freshly baked cinnamon rolls on a chilly morning, the scent of the creamy glaze cutting through the bite of the cold air

˚☽˚.⋆ the buttery sweetness of caramel popcorn at the fairgrounds, playful and indulgent, mixed with the salty tang of sea breeze at sunset

˚☽˚.⋆the rich, creamy fragrance of coconut oil warming on sun-kissed skin, luscious and inviting

˚☽˚.⋆ the soft, powdery scent of lavender sachets in a vintage wardrobe, delicate and calming with an undertone of light wood shavings

˚☽˚.⋆ the silky smooth scent of jasmine tea steaming in a porcelain cup, refined and subtly intoxicating

˚☽˚.⋆ crisp, clean and freshly laundered linen on a breezy day mixed with the sweet, fruity aroma of ripe peaches on a summer afternoon

THIS YEAR’S AMORTENTIA DISASTERS.

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sure, there’s always one or two, but the Amortentia mishaps that year were legendary

.　　. 　 ˚　. first off, poor Cormac accidentally dosed himself—yeah, rookie mistake—and spent a week hopelessly in love with his reflection (but how different was that from his true self, anyway? no way of knowing.)

.　　. 　 ˚　. then there was Katie, who slipped a few drops into a goblet meant for Mr. Harry Potter of boy-who-lived fame, only for his best friend Hermione to pick it up instead. The look on Katie’s face when Granger started waxing poetic about Katie’s “brilliance” in the middle of the great hall was priceless—but, of course, Hermione was beet red and positively humiliated after it wore off, and i believe the two haven’t spoken since. i think Katie learned her lesson, though.

.　　. 　 ˚　. and let’s not forget Jenny, who finally got her crush, Maximus, to fall head over heels—only to discover lovesick Maximus was clingy with a capital C. cue sleepless nights and desperate whispered pleas for antidotes. a couple of brave (or just plain desperate) students tried to brew their own fixes in the dorms, resulting in green smoke, shrieking mandrakes, and one extremely unfortunate case of squishy bones and a subsequent trip to the hospital wing

.　　. 　 ˚　. and of course, the pièce de résistance: Parvati and Lavender dragging a moonstruck Ruby to Slughorn, her eyes glazed over, babbling sonnets about a completely baffled Draco Malfoy—he loved attention, sure, but he looked like he wanted to die. Slughorn went easy on her to save them the embarrassment. the whole school buzzed with these tales, each mishap adding another layer of absurdity to a year that already had more than enough going on

GOOD LUCK IN LOVE THIS YEAR, WITCHES AND WIZARDS

yours truly,

— me :^)

[haxkattpress]

Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses

"Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order."

This has to be one of the most creative and meticulously researched fics I have ever had the pleasure of reading. If you haven't read it yet, don't walk— run! Citrusses is an absolute genius, and kindly gave me permission to bind her masterpiece.

The cover of this bind is made out four different shades of Allure bookcloth cut by my Cameo 4, and the centerpiece is printed and hand foiled. The banners were machine foiled in gold and black with hand foiled rose gold shading. The endbands were hand sewn with Gutermann silk thread.

You can find more pictures and information about my process under the cut.

The amount of inspiration this fic gave me was overwhelming, and Citrusses' writing fully immersed me in the world of competitive rowing. While designing this bind, I was struck by the sheer wealth of Oxford rowing memorabilia available to me. I settled on this 1929 illustration from an official publication on the Oxford and Cambridge Centenary Boat Race for the cover.

"How hard could it possibly be?" I thought, foolishly. The answer was HARD, but I'll get into that later.

Due to the wealth of design options, I believe that this may be the best typeset I have created to date. Thanks to the help of my friend @tsurashi-bindery, I was able to learn the basics of InDesign (kicking and screaming all the way). There will be spoilers in the text of these photos, so try not to read them if you haven't finished the fic!

For the title page, I modified To See the Crews in Training by Charles Pears (1930). I believe that this was part of a series of advertisements for the race in the London Underground.

For the chapter headers, I redrew the crest from an Oxford Oars, Flags, and Arms postcard, presumably pre 1914. I also had some fun creating a mock email using La_Temperanza's How to Mimic Email Windows on Ao3. Cormac's email makes me laugh every time I read it, and Citrusses provided an appropriately pompous subject.

I also had lots of fun editing the oars from the official OUBC logo to serve as dividers and decorations for the page numbers.

Additionally, I got to edit a full newspaper page for the fic! I was very excited find an opportunity to slip Leyendecker's The Finish (1908) in.

The fic ended beautifully, so I wanted to include one last element at the end to capture the atmosphere. I settled on L'aviron (1932) by Milivoj Uzelac. It makes me feel as though Harry and Draco will continue rowing together long after I've closed the book.

I of course had lots of fun sewing the headbands, and got to do it with not one but TWO copies!

Things got tricky when I had to recreate the cover. I had a poor understanding of how vector images worked, and ended up having to redraw it three times. Once I finally cracked and taught myself how to use Illustrator, the program crashed...and I had to redraw it a fourth time!

I set the vector to cut on my Cameo 4, and I assembled the pieces together like a puzzle on my Silhouette mat. I used Allure's indigo, skylight, white, and black bookcloth in the process. I will be making a tutorial video on this method, so I will keep it brief here.

I also cut a piece of bookcloth to 8.5"x 11" and fed it through my inktank printer to print the center design. I then cut it out using the print and cut feature on my Cameo 4. Both of these methods were a first for me, and they were very scary!!

To be perfectly frank, the foiling was a nightmare and I don't want to get into it. I machine foiled the gold, and then foiled black lettering on top of it. I foiled the rose gold shading by hand, and then foiled a thin black outline along the edge of the banners to make them stand out more.

I hand foiled the spines (because I'm scared of measuring), painted the exposed board (to hide any gaps in the inlays), and used transfer tape to lift my design from the Silhouette mat and onto the cover.

One more fun detail— my copy and the author's copy are sisters! The dark blue and the light blue are inverted on the author's copy, making it distinguishable from mine. This is the first time I have made an author's copy for a fic, and I was admittedly incredibly nervous. I always worry about what authors will think of my work, but Citrusses gave me an incredible amount of encouragement and support throughout the process! Thank you for trusting me with your precious fic!

This story is a work of fanfiction and can be read on Ao3 for free. My bind and typeset are for personal use only and not for sale or profit. Keep fandom free!

[celestialmuses]

"Okay, okay. That's good. This is very weird but good." Leia said, her voice a slightly higher pitch than normal. But Cormac wasn't hurt and no one knew anything. Everything would be okay. Her heartbeat slowed down a little now that she knew he was fine. If he'd been hurt, she wouldn't know what she would do. The way she felt so deeply about him, only wanted to be happy with him, was what made her so concerned. "Okay, you need to take a shower. There's plastic bags under the sink, put your clothes in there. We'll need to, I don't know, burn them, I guess? I should have enough bleach to clean the shower after you and then we can- wait. Get away? Wait, hold up, I don't care about cleaning! Why are you covered in blood? What's going on?!" Leia asked, stepping closer to Cormac, her hand reaching out as if to touch him.

he respects her questions, is surprised that she's able to conjure up such coherent questions at a time like this. he's almost proud of her for it. "one. no, it is not my blood. thank god." he murmurs the latter two words, nibbling at his bottom lip. he's grateful that none of it was his blood, because if it had been that'd mean he'd left evidence behind. that's it. he wouldn't have cared either way otherwise. two. no. no, they're not coming here. i was able to get away before anyone actually showed up." he confirms, gaze flickering along her expression, intrigued to witness her reaction. his heart does race, mainly because of the adrenaline - but also because he does worry. there's not much he worries about, he's more often than not cool, calm and collected, but he does worry about leia. he cares for her, in ways he's never cared for anyone else before.

[mrsblaileen]

In Cormac McCarthy's 'Blood Meridian' the character of Judge Holden is something of an anomaly; an enigma; not only in the eyes degenerate outlaws we come to know throughout the novel, but also to the reader themselves. A contradiction of inhuman proportion, in both his strength and intellect. A man proficient in botany, geology, tracking, hunting, music, law. A masterful multilinguist, a keen purveyor of knowledge, a murderer, pedophile, and a rapist. He claims the title of "judge", one who is sworn to uphold justice and morality, but Holden is immoral - morality is useless to this Judge.

Naked as man's first day in the Garden, The Judge is something other than human; a huge, hairless, pale, heavenly body. Akin to the devil, Glantons gang have all met Holden during violent, tumultuous moments in their pasts. The Judge has pulled the threads of each of their lives to concoct this aggregation of killers, in order to observe - out of some morbid curiosity, or in the interest of satisfaction - the desolation they will lay to the world, and to humanity.

To Holden, War and violence is the ultimate expression of man, of freewill; a dance humanity must partake in, lest they perish underfoot. War is God. Freedom is something The Judge values, but only so long as he is the dictator of it. Freedom outside of his bounds is an insult, it represents to him something that is out of his control, something that exists without his knowledge, or his consent, and thus sullies his vision of the world.

In essence, Holden is the judge, the jury, and the righteous executioner of man, of the Earth as we know it. He, the great favourite, dictates the worth of things, which exist only as he allows them to.

Judge Holden rescues James Bell (the imbecile for lack of a better reference) from drowning, hauling him from the depths of the river in an action akin to a baptism; an act of mercy unlike himself. The Judge spares James Bell only as he is a being whom the judge can dominate/control completely, a trait that is pointedly missing from The Kid; who does not worship War and bloodshed as the others do, and does not play entirely to The Judge’s ideals. Due to this, The Judge is fascinated by The Kid.

Holden condemns The Kid for the “clemency” he shows the Glanton gang, clemency which The Kid had ironically granted The Judge himself several times. The Kid is provided many opportunities to murder Holden, but each time the circumstances are unjust. People tell The Kid to save himself, to leave them to death or to kill them - he refuses out of what we can only assume to be an innate sense of morality.

If War is the ultimate game, a "dance", the stakes of which being: partake, or die - then The Kid absolves himself of the call to dance, retorting “even a dumb animal can dance". He is confronted with the Judges unmoving view of the world - that the steps of this “dance” of bloodshed have been dictated and deemed mandatory by something far greater and far older than humanity - and spits in the face of it. This is blasphemous to the Judge, and thus, this sacrilege must be corrected; It must be destroyed, desecrated, and made right.

Holden is the king of counterfeits. Be it money, wealth, knowledge, power, or even the falsification of ownership, of sovereignty - a personification of colonisation.

Faust knew the power of knowledge when he sold his soul to Satan for all the world’s wisdom, The judge covets this knowledge. He copies ancient, native artifacts of rich cultures of which he is not a part, studies plants, and people - consuming all they have to offer him before destroying them. Greedily and selfishly Expunging them from the memory and mind of man.

The Judge claims ownership of the wisdom these people and objects once held, and in doing so owns more and more of the world to himself. He is a false messiah, a copycat - tracing the likeness of the world, but lacking its originality. In his mind he wants to claim the world that God has created, and lay waste to it. He is the purveyor and thief of reality. He wants to own perception, and in each act of destruction and desecration he cements his place and power as keeper of the Earth.

The Kid is the final victim of The Judge’s hunger - he is devoured as he steps into the jakes, lit as he was on the day of his birth in the unending darkness only by the star fall overhead. The Judge gormandizes the last of the "true" ones, the last loose thread in his quest for dominion; The Kid. He is the last Beast on the stage.

Just as The Judge will never die, and never sleeps; in the minds and hearts of man, evil will never cease to exist. War is man's favourite game, and there is no winner; there will always be evil in the world and evil men who perpetuate it. The world turns, and The Judge continues to dance.

[theredhexed]

Yours, Forever. // Prince!Bucky AU

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Ofc!Ellowyn

Content Warning: arranged marriage, mentions of war, blood and death. eventual smut, undertones of celtic mythology and deities, none of this canon.

Summary: When the war between the Kingdoms of Sunstone and Shadowfell came to an end, a promise of marriage was made. After years of only heirs, the first princess from Sunstone was a celebration - and the end of a debt. But what happens when the princess learns of her duty?

Will she accept happily... Or will the treaty be destroyed?

Word Count: 1.6k

AN: i’ve been sitting on this for so long and im so excited to share it. forever thankful for @crowsofdarkness and her noggin and her opinions.

On the 406th day, the sun rose the same way it always had. The soldiers of Sunstone left wondering if they would ever return home to their families. If this war would ever come to an end.

As the sun began to set, in the chilly wind away in the distance a small white flag was raised. An end was near. General Cormac and his immediate men worked their way to the other side of the valley. Guns held close to their sides, prepared for the worse but hoping for the best.

Finally coming face to face with General Shadow, both men nodded. Signaling their men to wait outside.

“Evening Cormac, we are willing to end this.”

“Amazing news,” Cormac’s voice was cut off. “We do have a few conditions.” He sighed before continuing. “We would like to merge our lands, each castle the same. Your family will still control Sunstone, mine will still rule over Shadowfell. There is a piece of land further north of our kingdoms that we can turn into our baseland. A place where an heir of mine and a Princess of yours will live, and rule over. They will wed, and when our time is up - they will rule over both kingdoms. This will go peacefully, we will make both places aware and their lives will not change much and we will handle things with grace and compassion. Our children, whether they be current or down the line will be taught of what's to come. If you accept this deal, we are willing to end this war.”

Cormac didn’t ponder, he didn’t need to. He knew what had to be done. He knew his men were holding on by a thread. He was quick to accept. The treaty both men signed would be shown for decades to come.

Ellowyn’s POV

Current day

This morning went from a happy day, I was woken up by my mother to a cupcake with a pretty candle as she always had done. A celebration of my 21st birthday. A day the kingdom had been counting down to for as long as I could remember.

I had spent the morning with my mother, her eyes sad. She was unable to explain to me why, but as we entered the carriage everything was turned upside down.

Now I'm standing in a room in front of a man everyone’s calling my fiancé; James. The Prince of Shadowfell.

He was beautiful. His hair fell loosely around his eyes. I had overheard his Highness scolding him as we walked in. Something about “unprofessional”, I had to disagree.

“Winnie, we have to go settle a few things. I know this is a lot, but please trust this is for the best.” My father had spoken as he pressed a chaste kiss to my head before leaving me alone with him.

The world suddenly felt like it was caving in around me and I couldn’t stop it. How did my parents hide this from me for so long? How did they go every day telling me how the kingdom was going to mine just for me to turn 21 and be sent away to a man I’ve never met. He may be beautiful, but beauty was never what it was all cracked up to be.

My hands went straight to the fabric near my legs, bunching a piece and trying to find comfort in the only thing I knew.

“I, uh, I know this is a lot. I’m truly sorry it was thrown on you like this.” He spoke softly. Almost like he did feel bad.

“How long have you known?” I snapped.

“Damn near my whole life really. I grew up hearing about the treaty, I was 6 when my father came in to announce to the castle my future wife was born. It’s been drilled in since then.”

I let out a frustrated sigh, why was everyone aware of this except for me? How was this fair? My life was being thrown away, all for some fucking treaty no one ever took the time to explain.

“I did try to meet you sooner. I’ve been practically begging my father for the last 3 years to meet you. I tried to tell him it would be a rather big adjustment for all of us if you knew no one here. He didn’t listen, come to find out that’s cause you didn’t really know this was even a thing.”

Turning to face the balcony beside me, I fixed my shoulders. Just like mother taught me. “Life isn’t always fair Winnie, but you are a strong and fierce young lady.” I took a breath before speaking up. “James, if I'm doing this. If I’m giving away the things I enjoy to be here, preparing for the day I am consort. We are doing it my way. I am Ellowyn, Daughter of Killian and Charlotte, The Princess of Sunstone. I am an equal to you, and you will not treat me any less. All planning for Shadowfell’s future will be made together. I had a voice in my palace, and that will not change here. Am I understood?” My voice was stern, never turning to face the man behind me.

“You will have whatever your heart wants here, I will make sure of it. You will be seen as nothing less than my equal, the future queen of Shadowfell. If anyone has an issue with that, it will be handled. Your voice will be heard here as well, I promise you that.” I heard his footsteps stop behind me, close enough that if I turned I would run right into his chest.

Hours had passed before I was whisked away from the large room filled with the people I no longer knew and the people I was soon to know.

“Pardon me?” I voiced to the women walking me down the hall. “What is your name?”

She gave me a warm smile, “Clara, Princess. You’ll be seeing a lot of me. James hand picked me to help make you feel more comfortable here.” We walked in a comfortable silence down the hall until she stopped in front of a door.

“This is your bedroom. He had mentioned you may want your own space, so I went ahead and prepared this room for you. If there is anything you find unsatisfactory, please let me know. It’s my goal to help make you happy here. I will come back to check on you in a little while. James’ room is just across the hall, you two are the only ones in this wing.” Clara spoke. She was quick to turn away.

“Wait, Clara?” Her head turned to look back towards me, a silent nod to continue. “Thank you, for all of this.”

I reached for the handle of the door, standing still. The weight of this stopped me. “Go on, you’re home now. Whether it feels like home yet or not. This is just as much yours. Go on, relax.” Clara gave the push I needed.

As much as this doesn't feel like home, she's right. This is my home now.

Stepping into the room, I was immediately stunned by the gorgeous view from what looks to be a balcony.

The sea was where I always felt most at peace.

There was a table next to the door, and a bed further into the room on the opposite wall of the balcony.

A basket sat on the foot of the bed. Flowers, candy and a beautiful ring sat inside. A letter lay next to the basket.

I know all of this is sudden for you and honestly probably a little scary too. I can't imagine how it felt to be woken up to news of you leaving and being married off. I can't express my empathy enough for that.

I have requested for all of your belongings to be sent here as soon as possible. For now, I hope you find comfort in the clothes and bedding I had made for you. I heard from a little birdy, your mother, that dresses weren't much of your thing unless formal. Much to everyone’s dismay. So rather than forcing you into them as everyone insisted, I had some other things made for you. As well as a couple gowns; just for when the council needs us.

A seamstress is available for whenever you are ready to discuss a wedding gown, if you choose to wear one. Or if you even want a public wedding.

If you do not want one, please do not worry. We do not have to have one. I'm here for whatever you would like, big and lavish or we sign the paper and put the rings on.

I have met with the jeweler your mother has gone to, she had made all of your jewelry prior to this. She made the ring that is sitting in that tiny blue box. I thought a pearl with a onyx felt fitting from what I know about you. The pearl represents your love of the sea, which I hope you enjoy that little balcony overlooking the ocean, and an onyx for The Morrigan. In hopes she blesses us for the long life we have ahead of each other.

I seem to have rambled on for more than I intended too. I am just across the hall, if you need me and if I am busy - tell Clara. She'll bring you to me and whatever I'm doing can be put on hold.

I know this is hard and change is terrible sometimes, but im excited to see you grow and become happy here. Your smile is the breath of fresh air this kingdom needed.

See you at dinner, petal.

Yours forever,

James.