#farewell the crown

[sam-jack-loveforever]

The best 3 episodes in season 6 of The Crown 👑

• Aftermath

• Ritz

• Sleep,Dearie Sleep

[imaginal-ai]

"Farewell My Love"

[mercy-misrule]

hey super cool that the Australian parliament is suspended for 15 days because of the fuckin queen. hey fuck that.

what a waste of our time and resources

[helloparkerrose]

[dastardlydaemon]

au where viserys dies from a broken heart/guilt after killing aemma and losing his heir and DAEMON BECOMES KING SINCE HE WAS THE HEIR this is before viserys decided to name rhaenyra heir obviously and then she ends up being his ward ig???

[nymfaia]

Once, Alta believed she would have gone to the ends of the world with her knight. Once, in between a bloody banquet and being charged with heresy, she thought she had everything she truly could have wanted.

Edmont doted on her, one hand on his cane and one always cupping her cheek, taking her in as if he had known her every nook and cranny like his own children, as if he could peer into her soul and find exactly what she needed to hear.

And then she lost her partner, and Edmont feared he had not only lost his son, but his would be daughter-in-law, too.

Even as they grieved and as their hurts ached less and less, Alta was never fully who she had been when he first met her. No longer did she drop in and sleep the night at the manor as time allowed - and, even if she did, she curled into Haurchefant's room, desperately trying to seek even a flicker of his existence still there.

When Edmont purchased her a small cottage in the Firmament, it was intended to be a new start. Maybe the manor was too much for her. Ishgard would forever be her home, but maybe loss still curled in the corners of the Fortemps quarters, like cold air leaking through an improperly sealed window.

(He needn't say he worried for her. He needn't say he could see the whole of the Firmament from where the Pillars towered, the tiny home lights like candles in the distance, and even without the Fortemps knight stationed at her cottage on her stints there, he had it's location memorized. Her lights coming on were few and far between, ships in the dark, but it brought him hope all the same: that maybe the Warrior of Light was rebuilding, just like Ishgard.)

He visited on days he noticed her lights were on. Travelling to the new construction was not something Edmont had done much of: it was far for him and his limp, and he much preferred to stay close to home. But the fresh air often did him well, and getting the occasional chance to greet Francel was yet another boon to his visit.

Her little home was fairly barren. She had, with his aid, furnished it to the barest degree: a small table for two sat in the kitchen, and a long, Elezen sized couch sat ahead of the fireplace. But she was always happy to see him and to fix him tea or cocoa, curling up at the table on warm days or on the couch together when it was cold.

And then she vanished.

Aymeric had little and less for him. She had been summoned abroad, he thought, and was busy with a threat there. Communication betwixt the lands were difficult, but no news had to be good news, Aymeric hoped.

The moon had showed it's face well over twelve times before the light came back on in her cottage. Edmont believed he had been seeing things; but Artoirel told him true, that she had come back to Ishgard after her journey, but was under close watch by the Astrologians.

When he next visited, it was to simply ensure she had what she needed. When she opened the door, thin bodied and sallow skinned, he was stunned. Of all the adventures she had gone off to, so few had treated her this poorly.

(And when she hugged him, clinging to his coat as if she scarcely believed she would see him again, he wondered, what exactly, the Scions had put her through.)

But slowly - slowly, as days turned into weeks and more - her light began to stay on more often. And then, finally, the knight that stood guard was dismissed. Something had changed.

When he visited next, it was not her who answered the door. It was a tall, dark-skinned Garlean, staring down at Edmont with an expression between guilt and ease.

"Come in," he said. That was all.

The sheer change in her cottage told him much of what he needed to know. Boxes, both from the manor and from the Rising Stones, had littered the living space for moons and more. They had now disappeared: her knickknacks and things displayed on the shelving around the fireplace. Tataru's blankets hung off the back of her couch, and further furniture had been procured: a coffee table, a bench to store shoes, a coat rack.

It was no longer a shell of a home, and Edmont was beginning to realize whomever had helped her unpack her things had done far and away more than just that. And when he was invited to sit down in the kitchen, a plate full of breakfast food not quite Ishgardian placed ahead of him, he knew it had to do with the Garlean.

So they talked. Two grown men around a cramped table, mugs of dark coffee and food that Edmont had scarcely heard of, let alone tried, being eaten in relative quiet.

He was from Garlemald. He had faced her in battle, years and years ago, and had been left for dead. But fate had more for him than simply death, and they crossed paths like two moons orbiting the star. She had helped bury his children and find solace in his grieving.

Edmont could understand that, at the very least.

Haurchefant and Alta's affair had not been Edmont's story to tell - not that he needed to. Alta had told the man of her past partner. She had spoken highly enough of the family, Gaius said, that he recognized the retired Count from stories alone.

She wished she still had him, she had said. She wished things were different.

(Edmont could understand that, too.)

When she finally graced their presence, sleepy eyed and bare faced, she scarcely had eyes for either of them: she had been awoken by the smell of home cooking and brewing coffee. It was only after she poured a mug for herself and stuffed a dough ball in her mouth, humming with delight at how similar it was to food from her homeland, that she realized not just one man was watching her with grand amusement - but two.

"Alta," Edmont asked, aching fingers wrapped around his cooling mug of coffee, "I am happy to see you truly yourself again. He has done much and more for you, it seems."

She looked from man to man, from father figure to partner, her tail slowing in it's sway. Gaius had done more than she could say. He had seen the state of her home and put it together for her; he had combed the markets for food resembling ones from the Steppe, hoping to find something she could keep down.

He had pulled her from the edge of nonexistence when she scarcely had been able to do the same for him.

"He has," Alta said quietly. "I'm - ... glad."

(The next time she sees him, she is at the manor, coat bundled tight around her being. The end of the star had been avoided: Emmanellain had made certain that Edmont knew his youngest son's role in the whole affair. He had neglected to state, however, that his sister by choice had been with child, her return back to Ishgard delayed not only by injury but by status.

But she did, in fact, return - and not just by herself, but with the Garlean and a babe at her chest.

It was not the happy ending she had expected. She had wished, once upon a time, that she would see such a future with Haurchefant.

But she hoped his pure, hopeful soul would return to them, and had named the babe in his honor.

Edmont had not wept since he had said goodbye to his son. Now he was weeping as he said hello to his adopted grandson.

It was not the happy ending he expected, either. But it was happy nonetheless.)

[pirateborn-a]

     Everyday i am just thinking about how Everything about Roger just connects to how much he loves. His goals, his ambitions, his haki---

     Been drafting hc post on his abilities, specifically Haki, because been hc’ing that his Conqueror’s Haki is incredibly strong   ( able to kill the average man without issue )  as a direct result of how he doesn’t doubt for a second because of how pure / straightforward his ambitions are due to how he everything he does he does out of genuine love

[leatherbookmark]

EEEEE A MYSTERY CODE WAS POSTED ❤️❤️❤️ LET'S GOOOOOOOO

[newsbluster]

Pakistan's World Cup 2023 Victory: You Won't Believe It!

Pakistan’s World Cup 2023 Victory: The cricketing world was set ablaze as Pakistan clinched a remarkable victory in the ICC World Cup 2023. Despite a shaky start, the green shirts roared back, showcasing incredible resilience and skill. This blog post dives into the thrilling moments of the match, highlighting Pakistan’s triumphant journey to glory. Pakistan’s Struggle and Resilience in World…

[intotheclash]

Chumbawamba - Farewell to the Crown (Royal Wedding Song)

[mercy-misrule]

QUEENS ON HER WAY OUT BAAABEEEY

(guardian live posting with news updates re her kickin it

[dwuerch-blog]

Her Farewell Tour Came to an End

Her Farewell Tour Came to an End

Her Farewell Tour Came to an End A Farewell Tour is what musical artists call it when they are retiring from the business. And, we might say that’s what Mom did when she bid us adieu on October 15th. I’ve given my readers a picture of what a Farewell Tour looks like for a nearly 100 year-old (just two weeks shy). She was ready to check out. And thanks be to God for checking her out. She was…

[himikochan]

Me, anytime we hear the Queen is sick

[nymfaia]

Alta is not one for loose jewelry. Even being at the back of battles and wars, they posed a risk: of being tangled in them, of others using them for leverage, of injuries where the article causes more harm than good.

She only wears rings she is okay with losing or ruining; bracelets that can be slipped off over her hand or are tight enough not to get snagged on things. Horn cuffs are often simple and flat, with only a rare pair having any drops or dangles.

(If she has the time and no safe place to store a loose chain or leather cord bracelet, she will oft times put it around her ankle instead. It is usually better guarded there under boots or near sandle straps.)

Her tail jewelry is the most extravagant she wears, and even that is mostly custom metalwork pieces. There are some fine chains connecting the rings betwixt the spines at the end, but scarcely do enemies aim to strike her tail. If she's wearing boots, the end can be tucked in, or curled around her thigh in times where the rings or chains could snag.

Her tail is the main exception to her rule on simple jewelry. The other outliers are her two necklaces.

One had, previously, been a ring all on it's own - and a practical one besides, a citrine piece of materia embedded in the thin band. It was a promise ring gifted to her by one Graystone, providing love and assistance all at once.

Over time, the materia began to lose its strength. With use, the crystal became cracked and aged. But Alta refuses to remove the piety materia from her being, even if it is nigh useless now - the ring simply has been relocated to a fine, delicate metal chain, short enough to appear at the collar of most shirts. The piece settles into the crevice of her collar, a love still held and cared for years and years gone.

Her second is a leather cord. While the silver necklace was made with the intent to never be removed, the chain links close firmly with no clasp, the second has clear intent. It is long enough that the pendant hangs between her breasts and is hidden below most clothing, with gold clasps at the end of the cord. The necklace is long enough to remove over her head; the clasps are easy enough to undo on her own.

The pendant is a simple wire-wrapped canine tooth, the end worn and round from years of use. Alta had not asked where the man had obtained it, but it needn't matter - wolves were as common to Eorzea as Goobbue, the pendant easily replaceable if she were to lose it or have it snatched from her during a confrontation.

There is a sense of trust in the ability for her to remove a token of Gaius's affection - but it remains, day after day, moon after moon, tucked under her mage robes and her casual attire.

(She wasn't usually one to wear gold, she had teased, but she would for him. It wasn't until she caught him undressing next that she noticed he had one, too, just the same - gold wrapped and all.)

[makethatelevenrings]

Day 11: Lingerie w/ Bruce Wayne

Kinktober Masterlist

“You’re trying to kill him,” Diana mused from beside you. A smirk settled across your lipstick stained lips and you tried to cover it up by bringing your champagne flute up.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you hummed. It was Bruce’s idea to hold a charity gala on your wedding anniversary. You were just playing the part of a good, doting wife.

“You’re the only person able to fuck with his head so, frankly, I encourage it. Besides, you look good.”

The Amazonian’s eyes darted over your form appreciatively and you nudged her with your elbow, your grin firmly settling into place.

“Now, Diana, you’re testing him.” You were well aware of the stares you were garnering, especially the heavy gaze of your husband. The diamond on your finger caught the light and gleamed at him from across the room. The diamond he had placed years earlier and, conveniently, forgot the date when planning this gala.

“I could take him in a fight,” she muttered into her wine. Your laughter echoed through the ballroom and even more faces turned to stare at you. You winked at a couple standing nearby and the man flushed a bright red.

Listen, maybe you were playing with fire.

But maybe your husband made you play dress up on the one night a year you made him stay home and dote on you. So sue you. He might be vengeance, but you weren’t a simple flower either. Bruce married you because you were one of the only people that went toe to toe with him without backing down. Some might call him foolish. Tabloids stated that he should have settled down with a quieter woman.

Bruce was delighted by you, sharp tongue and all. In fact, he regularly let you loose on anyone who pissed him off. Lex Luthor was your usual target but you had yet to see his shiny head.

“Oooo, here he comes,” Diana sang. “I’m going to steal some hors d'oeuvres. Have good sex.”

  You raised your champagne flute in farewell and cheers. “Will do.”

Bruce made his way through the crowd, his blue eyes fixed on you. With a dismissive wave of your hand, you turned around and started to walk towards the doors that led to the main part of the manor. You knew that he would follow. His pursuit was nearly silent as he slipped through the crowds easily. He was Bruce Wayne yet, at the same time, the Batman was helping him melt in the shadows and away from the people milling about who wanted to ask him inane questions.

You slipped out of the ballroom and into the hallway that led to the main foyer and then up the stairs to the family portion of the manor. The top of the line security system recognized you instantly and didn’t trip any alarms. You drifted down the hallway towards the main bedroom, noting that the sounds of footsteps had silenced.

A hand enclosed around your elbow and you turned to face Bruce. The light from the chandelier framed you, a halo of light licking at your head and crowning you with gold. It lit up the thin metallic filigree that lined the edges of your dress and dipped against the deep v-cut of the top that went down, down, down, revealing the lacy black bra you wore underneath.

“You will be the death of me one day,” he whispered, reverence in every word. Bruce reached up and touched your neck where the diamond necklace he gave you last anniversary rested.

“I hope not,” you hummed. “I plan on keeping you around for a long, long time.”

You pulled away from him and continued your walk to your bedroom. As you walked, you reached up and clasped the zipper that rested low on your back. Unzipping it, you let your dress pool at your feet, revealing the black teddy you wore underneath.

The lace pulled snugly across your breasts, cupping you in the right places and adding lift, and draped across your stomach before the hem ended just at the lack of fabric covering your pussy, an open cutout just for him.

“Happy anniversary, Mr. Wayne,” you said. “I bought this with your card, by the way.”

His hands reached for the tie wrapped around his throat and you smirked before heading towards the bed. The door slammed behind you, lock clicking into place.

Worked every time.