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I say, jolly good show, chaps. And did I panic? I think not.

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trump dies of congestive heart failure before being sworn in charge to like cast to reblog

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Guided To His Place

Word Count: 1584 AO3 Inspired by my friend @its-short-for-jackalope's art, which can be found here! Also by my friend @midnightnautilus, whose ficlet can be found here. I found Samuel's arc truly beautiful, and as much as I'm devastated he's gone? I wanted to write my own send off to him, as someone who deeply related to him. I hope you all enjoy it.

Samuel Stratford lies in the grass, the softness of it comforting his back. It's twilight, sweet and true all around him. A peace settles in him, as he looks up at the stars. Shining, brilliant and bright, reminders of home. The stars are familiar, even in this strange place. Shining starlight, up in the sky once more. This place, the end. The place he appeared, once he awakened from his final choice.

He's wandered throughout it as much as he can - recognizing the Paper Stand, the Township, even the Ellen Austin and Lincoln Island. Places he loved, places he made an impact. A place where his story unfolded, now a place for him to walk and discover.

Their echoes.  Now, he rests. It's a strange sensation, being alone. He doesn't know if he'll ever grow used to it. He spots familiarity up in that glimmering cacophony of stars, and feels his shoulders relax. He glows the same as those stars now, golden and warm against the cool night. 

Above him is the Sagitta. Rose, Samuel, Margaret and John. The closest he has come to seeing his friends, his sister. Those stars Rose had named after the four of them, up in the sky. Separated, unable to reunite. Above him, the Satellite, shining out protectively into the dark. A guiding light home. That beauty he laid so many bricks to help create, helping to bring people home.

It's not the true stars or Satellite, of course. But it's still a reminder that his friends are out there, finding their way. He thinks that's still something real, in a way.

A cloak of grief and love covers his heart, as a lump forms in his throat. It's a strange mixture, those feelings, yet they still hold true. He's cried so much since he made his choice. Even now, they start to softly drip down his cheeks, as he thinks of teasing Rose at the Paper Stand, quietly talking with John about the weight of a legacy, of rejoicing with Margaret as she turned that wood to gold, so incredibly proud of her. Masterpieces of memories, fortunate to have ever have made them. They fill him with pride and fondness, rippling through his veins like that starlight across the sky, the love he holds tight to his chest.

John, the man who started as an icon, who became someone Samuel could speak to about his fears of not being enough. Who understood Samuel when he said he still had so far to go. Who Samuel watched choose creativity, becoming more wild and free.

Margaret, his friend, that one who enchanted him with what lived inside her. Her quiet resolve, her determination to find her answers, her own kind of masterpiece. One who he found trust with again, who forgave him for what he had done. Who he spoke and spoke with, trying to build back that original connection once more. Helping her find her way. 

Rose, the one he would have been lost without. The one person Samuel thinks he knows better than he knows himself. The bravest, the best person he knows. Her sheer resolve to make her own legacy, to accomplish whatever she set her mind to. The first person he ever dreamed with, who was the one who reached out with him to find a world that was more than this. 

Memories are what he has in this after, and he thinks of them often. Living in the echoes he made with those he loved so dearly.

There's a peace in his choice, though. Samuel knows it was the only choice he ever could have made. His friends will go on without him. His life was worth them getting to live, to continue their journeys. He acted like the man in his dreams, accomplished great things in the end. There is no greater thing he could have done than make sure that the family he built in brick carried on. 

But, still... "I miss you." His voice is quiet. He misses them so badly that it aches. He could write and write and write, and it would still never come close to capturing the loss that he carries with him now.

But they must go on without him. This is what sacrifice means. It's a sacrifice he cannot ever bring himself to regret. Not when it means that those he loves--John, Margaret, Rose--live on. He did this for them. He would do this for them over and over. He wasn't afraid at the end, no longer needed direction. He knew what needed to happen. In no universe would he have held back from what needed to be done. He saved them, making his final impact.  "I love you." It's easy, to say those words. Reliving those memories, that started all with his notebook. Those connections--those people he holds so dear. His hand reaches out to the stars. Connecting the four of them with his finger, holding their memories and stories in his mind. He's always been a storyteller, after all--that certainly will not stop now. He tells their stories, if only to himself. A fond smile crosses his face, as he feels warm air swoop across his face. He can almost picture them beside him--but only just. 

The world is silent.

It's only Samuel and the stars, at the end of infinity.

A quiet sigh leaves Samuel's mouth, feeling that kaleidoscope of stars all around.

This is a moment, all his own.

Then, a buzz, just above him. He draws his head up, to see an intricately carved box, humming with its own sort of blue-green glow. It's mahogany, the buttons and knobs near the top standing proud and strong. It's near his height, mere inches shorter. He lets out a laugh, recognizing the radio--for that is what she's called--that first and only other being here. He moves to get a better look at her, the other storyteller here. He'd like to call her a peer.  MAIA.  Elation and fear runs through him, as he realises what's happening. "Oh." She does not often call. There's only one reason she's come to his side. "It's time, isn't it?" MAIA lets out a short buzz. An affirmation.  Samuel breathes in. Breathes out. He gets to his feet, feeling the grass shift around him. He rolls back his shoulders, steadying himself.

Once on his feet, he places a hand on MAIA's top.  "Take me there?"  

She lets out another buzz, and-- In a flash, Samuel's no longer in the grass. Instead, he stands in a small room. Marigold-yellow wallpaper covers every wall. A green, plush chair is in one side of the room, with MAIA now rests next to that chair. On her top, now, a vase of roses. Soft blue carpet covers the floor, as a small table holds issues of what he knows to be the Sun. He picks one up and idly flips through it, laughing at the words he wrote with Rose in what feels like so long ago. His journal, a recreation of it, sits besides one of those issues. Trinkets, some he thinks Rose would have loved, strewn across the room.

MAIA starts to hum, a signal. She's picking up on the next story to share.  He's almost nervous.

But why should he be?

They know where to find me. 

Samuel feels a swell of pride, of trust in his friends.  There's agony in no longer being there for them, of course. He thinks he will always feel that pain. There is a part of him that is terrified to listen, to hear exactly what his choice did to his family. That is terrified to hear Rose's grief, the final Stratford still on Earth. His sister, without him. 

But they will persevere.

They always have, and he knows they are strong enough to keep on moving. Margaret, with her quiet inner strength and belief. John with his understanding of the weight of a legacy. Rose, who has survived so much already, his sister who he knows better than anyone else. His harbour in a storm, who will now live on without him. She has people other than him to lean on now, and he prays that will be enough.  They will be enough for each other. They have each other, even without him. They've built their family - and Samuel knows that it will hold fast against the shadows ahead. 

He had always been the storyteller before. The one who wanted so badly to convert passion to action. But now? 

"Tell me how it ends?" 

MAIA buzzes, a unspoken of course. So, Samuel settles in, sitting in the comfortable chair beside her. He can feel warmth exuding from him, something ghostly and true. He leans in, placing his hand on his cheek.  "Rose, Margaret, John..." he muses, "l know you can do this. You're capable of everything. You were worth the world. Protect each other, for me?" He knows they cannot hear him. But he says it anyways, keeping them in his heart. Speaking out to the stars.

A voice starts to play through MAIA's speaker, the blue-golden glow shining across the room, a mixture of Samuel and MAIA's combined light. A sweet tune sounds off before it, a opening of a curtain. Their stories go on, even without him. Samuel smiles.  He's ready. "Somewhere between the comforts of the familiar and the precipice of the unknown, an orchestra performs a score written in stardust..."

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Thank gravity for you ✨

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MANIFEST

MANIFEST

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Hello, I am from Gaza, due to the shortage of medicine in Gaza, my mother who is a type 1 diabetic and was supposed to undergo urgent eye surgery, has not been able to get insulin or any medical care for the past three months. . Some members of my family fled to the southernmost part of Gaza (Rafah) in tents. But my parents and sisters have nowhere else to stay. They are forced to stay in the Nuseirat refugee camp, which has been bombed since the beginning of Christmas. "I am on my knees asking for your donations. Please help me. where you can, Goal: $700

Nb/REBLOG,DONATE & SHARE WITH FRIENDS ❤️

I am unable to donate at the moment, but I would like to share this post and the user's page. Please donate if you can and/or share a link on a pinned message on their blog. Help in anyway you can! 🙏

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fic edits ━━ Beautiful Ghosts  ━  Star Wars: Poe Dameron & Dory Solo-Cybele.

“Hard on the outside, soft and mushy on the inside, huh princess?”

“If I ask Chewie to shit in your bed, Dameron, he’ll do it no questions asked.”

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The Many Names of Luna Charming ( insp. & insp. )

Throughout the years and across each and every realm and universe, Luna has been called many names. Princess. Daughter. Sister. Aunt. Mother. Wife. Charming. Blandus. Hood. Blanchard. But right here, right now, Luna will be damned if she lets herself be named a coward who abandons her family when they need her most. — Luna Charming, Season Seven

Read here: Wattpad

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𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙮𝙨 + 𝙟𝙤𝙣

tag list: @happyhauntt @hiddenqveendom @emilykaldwen

let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list.

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The Many Names of Lady Sabitha Blackwood - Meet Me in the After

Lady Sabitha Blackwood has been known by many names through the years, not all of them kind. As a girl, Sabitha was said to have greendreams, often seeing events that would unfold well into the future. For this gift, her father, Lord Owen Blackwood, bestowed on her the endearment Raventouched. Upon her wedding to Ser Theodred Smallwood, the second son of the widowed Lord Theomer of Acorn Hall, she was known as Lady Smallwood. Two years into her marriage, and her service to Queen Aemma, who was known to have called the Blackwood girl friend, her clandestine affair with Prince Daemon Targaryen was discovered, earning her the moniker of The Dragon's Plaything, oft believed to draw attention to the many years between the lovers in age. Though there were fifteen summers between them, it was said that the prince sought her council, and referred to his mistress as nuhos ozzālanos, or my pyre in High Valyrian, a term that filled his elder brother with a simmering anger.

It was recorded that at one time, the new Queen of Westeros, Alicent Hightower, called her former friend and confidant secret keeper, though many wondered exactly what secret the queen was referring to. Maester Mellos recorded that it was to do with King Viserys' choice of second wife, though Maester Gyldayne is confident that the secret in question had nothing to do with Queen Alicent at all, and everything to do with the sudden death of Queen Aemma. One evening, while in his cups, King Viserys cornered Lady Sabitha at a feast in celebration of his second daughter's birth, loudly proclaiming for all the hear that she would henceforth be known as The Barren Bride for her inability to provide Ser Theodred or his own brother with a child. He cursed her, saying she would bear neither heir nor bastard. It is noted that Ser Theodred did nothing to dissuade the king and made no effort to comfort his wife. After the brutal murder of his grandson, Prince Jaehaerys, and the attack on his daughter and granddaughter, Lord Otto Hightower declared that Lady Sabitha was a shapechanger and a witch, accusing the woman of shedding her human body to take the form of a rat, leading the murderers Blood and Cheese through the tunnels of the holdfast and assisting in their heinous crimes. "The whore knows no shame, no bounds," the Hand raged to his grandson, Prince Aemond. "She is guilty of blood magic and more and I will have her head and her husband's for the death of the heir." When Lady Sabitha heard of the Hand's outburst, she rolled her eyes, waving off the accusation. "A rat, he says? Fitting, considering his own loyalties and betrayals. Perhaps Lord Otto should learn more about his enemies, and his own family, for what use does a dragon have for a rat?" Lady Sabitha lived out her days as The Lady of Whispers, maintaining the once-ruined keep on the northeastern coast of the crownlands that Prince Daemon was granted upon their wedding, largely believed to be the eye of a storm in the Black Queen's attempt to reclaim the Iron Throne. Many believe the granting of this keep to be King Viserys' final jab at his younger brother, sending him away from King's Landing one last time to live out his days with his barren bride.

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garnet & silver — nikolai lantsov.

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── requested: "⇴ person b is putting their necklace on person a, and stares at them for a hot minute after it's put on. then person b starts leaning into person a and pressing kisses onto their neck. with nikolai & anya" from this prompt list. ─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.) ─── warnings & notes: the fluffiest fluff. thank you so much for requesting this, it was so fun to write!!! ─── word count: 0.9k.

     Nikolai had sidled up behind her with a lazy smile curling at his lips, and she'd known it was him before looking in the mirror, known it from the way her skin had prickled at the mere proximity of him.

     He'd come to a stop just a hair away from her, and she cannot stop herself now, reacting entirely on instinct as she takes that half-step backward into his embrace. Every place where he's touching her scorches like brand, even through her clothes.

     When he produces the necklace from a pocket inside his coat, Anya watches their reflection in the floor-length mirror, her head tilting a little as a confused divot appears between her brows. His hands are warm and calloused against her skin. The tips of his fingers linger a moment longer than necessary once he's secured the clasp at the back of her neck, and the weight of the necklace rests comfortably in the hollow of Anya's throat.

     She leans back against his chest, into the security of him as he winds his free arm tight around her waist. Nikolai's other hand remains resting near the curve of her neck, tracing abstract shapes along the column of her throat in a way that makes her shiver.

     "You know I'm not one to complain about receiving gifts," Anya murmurs, a smile toying at her lips, "but what's the occasion?"

     Nikolai gives a playful sigh, trailing his finger along the chain until it brushes gently against Anya's collarbone. "Do I need an occasion to give presents to the woman I love?"

     "No," Anya admits. "But I suspect you've got one."

     The sliver of orange garnet nestled at her throat is small, no larger than her thumbnail, and wrapped in threads of silver wire. Anya reaches up to cup Nikolai's hand, entangling their fingers together as their hands settle on her shoulder.

     Their eyes meet in the mirror, and though their relationship isn't new, though it has been so long since they were children running ragged through the palace halls, so long since they were adolescents in the army bearing the weight of each other's secrets, Anya's stomach still erupts in a flurry of butterflies.

     He has eyes that could swallow her whole. Eyes like a forest, of oak trees mottled with moss and autumn leaves blanketing summer-green grass, and every part of her wants to wander into those woods and disappear forever.

    "I bought the stone from a marketplace on the Wandering Isle years ago." Nikolai's voice is rough when he finally speaks, and his grip on Anya's waist tightens. Heat blossoms beneath the press of his fingers and settles low in Anya's belly. "Back when I first left you, when Sturmhond was still a figment of my imagination and I hadn't found my sea legs yet."

     Anya smiles, soft at the edges. Sometimes she wishes she'd gone with him when he asked, wishes she'd been there to watch him grow from boy to man, but neither of them would be the same people now if she had.

     Though Anya regrets ━ Saints, she is full to the brim with regret, the kind that will spill all over the floor instead of blood if she cuts herself open, little more than a mess of regret bound up in human skin ━ she cannot ever quite bring herself to regret that.

     "I can't explain why, but when I saw it, I thought of you." He leans down and presses featherlight kisses against Anya's neck, one after another. "I was out in the world and free for the first time in my life, but I missed you as if someone had stolen my heart out of my chest, and when I saw it, all I could think of was you. So I bought it and I kept it in my pocket, right by my heart, so I knew you'd be with me in some small way."

     Nikolai is handsome and suave and brilliant, but there are some parts of him that she knows are reserved just for her.

     That sleepy groan first thing in the morning, the one that rumbles out of his throat when he rolls over and buries his face into Anya's collarbone, grumbling something about five more minutes against her skin.

     The gentle brush of his thumb over the inside of her wrist when they're in public, and they're trapped in an absolutely mindnumbing conversation about trade policy, and she knows he can feel the light flutter of her pulse and he starts to smirk, just slightly, because nobody else can make her heart race like that.

     And this, now. The way his eyes are soft and hungry all at once, and the line of open-mouthed kisses dips lower. When he pauses and hums, right against Anya's pulse point, the brush of his lips is just enough to make her tremble.

      "Why are you giving it to me if it's so important to you?" Her words slip out on a breathless whisper.

     She feels his lips as they bend into a grin. "You're with me now. I'm here, and you're here, and there's not a force in this world that could compel me to leave you again. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

     "What a dreadful prospect."

     She squeaks as he spins her in his grip a moment later, and then they're pressed chest-to-chest, and he's kissing her, swallowing the laughter as it spills past her lips, and Anya swears that not even the Saints could drag her away from Nikolai again.

     Not while she's still breathing.

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Luna Charming ( insp. & insp. )

Emma is the Saviour. Not me. I'm just ordinary. Luna, you are anything but ordinary. You are magnificent. Oh... Well, that's nice of you to say, but it's just not true. Emma was born with the ability to be the ultimate hero, and I was just the spare... without the cool title. You may not have been bestowed the same title as your sister, but you are an 'ultimate hero', as you put it, without it. And I think that is pretty extraordinary. Ask any of my Merry Men, and they'll tell you the same. Thank you, Robin. You're too kind. My pleasure... Your Highness. I thought I told you to stop with this princess malarky? Ah, of course. How could I forget? Luna. Thank you. Much better.

Read here: Wattpad

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mara el-masri (insp).

Commander, do you believe in the Egyptian gods? I have seen their power. I would be a fool not to believe. Then you do believe in Ammit. The eater of hearts, the great of death. Being so…indifferent to the death of a child would surely make one’s heart impure. I think, when the time comes and you’re brought to the judgement hall, you might meet Ammit. The scales are not in your favor.                   —  ( the breezes whisper, chapter fifty-three. )

taglist: @arrthurpendragon @antonybridgertons @foxesandmagic @stareyedplanet @eddysocs @ad-meloria @stanshollaand @camiemendes (want to be added? send an ask!)

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NONE OF YOU ARE SPECIAL. Gemma Arterton, Culprits 1.01 — "Change of Use"

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The Many Names of Lady Wylla Karstark - they say i killed you (haunt me then)

I have been ruminating over the idea for a set like this for so long (waaaay before I even had an inkling of an idea of how to gif) and I was absolutely inspired by the incredible title set that @moireia created for her oc, Alyssa Snow.

Haunt Me is finally nearing the end (how are there only five chapters left?!) and I'm just so grateful for all of the support that I've had along the way - @jadore-andor and @emilykaldwen, I'm looking at you. Go read The Maiden and the Drowning Boy by Nat and check out Allana Tyrell, Mare's ASOIAF oc, if you want that good Aegon II content.

I will never not be in love with Wylla and Aemond and their romance and the family they built and held on to despite all the odds being stacked against them. If you've been along for their wild ride, thank you!

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ONCE UPON A TIME CHARACTER GIFSET INTRODUCTION (PART 1/?)

FRANCESCA "FRANKIE" BLANCHARD

"Henry, I've been 17 for 28 years. I haven't left this town in 28 years. I haven't lived at all. If we're stuck here for the rest of our lives, then I want to at least find a way to see the world. To live a proper life. This town is suffocating me. I need to get out of it."

TAGLIST: @waterloou @eddysocs ​ @ocs-supporting-ocs @foxesandmagic @veetlegeuse @decennia @hiddenqveendom @arrthurpendragon @luucypevensie @richitozier @noratilney @wordspin-shares @oneirataxia-girl @endless-oc-creations @lucys-chen @andromedalestrange

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Jaenara Velaryon (x  x )

Tag list: @arrthurpendragon @eddysocs @stanshollaand @bravelittleflower @richitozier @hiddenqveendom @foxesandmagic @waterloou