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I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
izzy's playlists!
Mike Driver
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Claire Keane
if i look back, i am lost
Xuebing Du
Origami Around
PR's Tumblrdome
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JVL
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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TVSTRANGERTHINGS
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Product Placement
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#extradirty
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@drummxngarchive-blog
THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE! follow me again at drummxng, if you’d like!
as of right now, all threads except for the ones with fxrtyfive, pondelistic, andtyphoidandstarlings are dropped. sorry friends : ( I’m totally willing to continue them if you shoot me a message though! sorry guys, but it needed to be done!
THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE! follow me again at drummxng, if you’d like!
as of right now, all threads except for the ones with fxrtyfive, pondelistic, andtyphoidandstarlings are dropped. sorry friends : ( I’m totally willing to continue them if you shoot me a message though! sorry guys, but it needed to be done!
THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE! follow me again at drummxng, if you’d like!
as of right now, all threads except for the ones with fxrtyfive, pondelistic, andtyphoidandstarlings are dropped. sorry friends : ( I’m totally willing to continue them if you shoot me a message though! sorry guys, but it needed to be done!
THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE! follow me again at drummxng, if you’d like!
as of right now, all threads except for the ones with fxrtyfive, pondelistic, andtyphoidandstarlings are dropped. sorry friends : ( I’m totally willing to continue them if you shoot me a message though! sorry guys, but it needed to be done!
THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE! follow me again at drummxng, if you’d like!
as of right now, all threads except for the ones with fxrtyfive, pondelistic, andtyphoidandstarlings are dropped. sorry friends : ( I’m totally willing to continue them if you shoot me a message though! sorry guys, but it needed to be done!
dAMNIT EMILY
THE MASTER.
The Sixth Doctor 3x3. The Mark of the Rani (1 2 3)
( & tricky tardis )
❝Well — Master doesn’t terribly hog all the covers, at the least!❞
❝Well, thank Rassilon for small mercies. And you really think you’d be able to sleep, with me right next you? Wouldn’t you rather have that big, comfortable bed to yourself?❞
ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴɢ's ʀᴇʙᴇʟ ( ᴀᴜ )
( & my rebel )
The change that came over the raven haired king in that moment — in the very moment that he accepted the blade she held out to him — was electrifying ; And ( frightening as it should have been, but wasn’t ) comforting, to the ginger woman. Her grip on the blade loosened, green eyes growing wide as he ran the sharp edge against her cheek, speaking in that same silky tone she’d learned to associate as some strange sort of kindness towards her. But what changed now, in great comparison to months ago, was that the rebel didn’t recoil or cringe when the other made his threat that he would not hesitate to lock her up in the dungeons even as his queen. What changed, was the fact that her heartbeat slowed, and a small smile began to spread across her features as he continued to speak.
He must still care for her, to want to keep her locked up && his. He must still care for her, must still believe that she was strong enough to leave, should he guard her so jealously. A comforting thought, to know that her darling king still thought to take such precaution to keep her SAFE and sound, even if the rest of his ( of their ) kingdom saw the pair as equal.
Ordered her to kiss him then, the king did, using the tip of a blade to raise her chin upwards, and Elian knew she’d dare not disobey him. In an instant, alabaster arms were wrapped around the other’s neck, and she was pressing her lips against Harold’s with the very same fervour that a man parched from days in the desert gorges himself on cool, clean water. If any doubt remained in Harold’s mind, it would have been erased then and there ;
Elian Parker belonged to him, and to no one else. ( Perhaps not even to herself. )
She couldn’t remember having fallen asleep that night, but she must have, because all of a sudden the ginger was being pulled from her bed — from the king’s bed, where she must have spent the night yet again — by a maid, then dragged throughout the castle to be prepared for the royal wedding ceremony. ; Pale skin scrubbed until it was practically gleaming, wild hair carefully tamed and plaited atop her head, dabs of a delicate perfume applied to each pulse point. From there, the soon to be queen of Aerilon was fed a light breakfast, dressed in the finest white gown she’d ever seen, then ushered into a small waiting room as per tradition, to await the hour until she was set to walk down the aisle.
Elian couldn’t remember a more terrifying time. An hour passed, then two. What if he’d changed his mind? What if her dear king decided that he rather fancied keeping her his prisoner, — and purely his prisoner — and that he would take someone else instead? What would she do then? Everything she knew… Everything she was convinced she wanted… It would be gone then, wouldn’t it? But then, as time approached on a third hour, the door to the waiting room swung open to reveal an escort of guards.
Sunlight flooded the rebel’s eyes, and as she was being brought through the castle grounds and towards the castle’s chapel, the ginger was forced to look down at the ground in an attempt to avoid being blinded by it all. So much, that by the time she was stopped outside the doors, and a veil to block out any vision or light was placed over her eyes as per tradition, Elian hadn’t even managed to grab the slightest glimpse of how many people were waiting inside. There was no going back from this now, was there? She could hear the doors creak open, and could feel a member of the royal guard grasp her arm in order to guide her down the aisle, but try and she might to see, the fabric of the veil ( specifically designed so that it’s wearer was blinded until the king lifted it from her eyes ) ensured she couldn’t so much as catch a look out in the king’s direction.
Soon enough though, they were stopped. Reaching out an unsteady hand to find that of the king’s, Elian couldn’t help but smile when her fingertips found his own, and instantly she was calmed by his presence, able to concentrate on repeating the words that the preacher spoke to her, ending in ;
❝I do,❞
before she turned ever so slightly in Harold’s direction, waiting for him to lift the veil and finally — after what seemed like absolute lifetimes — complete the ceremony.
He awoke that morning to find his rebel gone, her side of the bed still warm, and for a moment, a wave of panic – fury, in truth – washed over him, before he remembered the day, and he was able to calm himself again. By sundown tonight, she would be his completely, sworn to serve him and belong to him for as long as they both shall live. An end, then, to the story of the servant turned rebel, and her king turned master. But the beginning, he thought, of a brand new story. With her by his side, the young king firmly believed, there would be nothing could stop him, and beyond simply quashing the very last dregs of the rebellion, he would expand his rule, make the neighbouring kingdoms kneel to him and his rebel queen as well, spread his reach across the entire continent. He would do it for her, wouldn’t he? He would do it to prove to her just how lucky she was, to belong to him, such a fearsome king and gifted military leader, and to ensure that he could give his new queen every last thing her heart desired. After a quick breakfast – which he barely tasted, so consumed was he with thoughts of his bride, and the wonderful and terrible future he had planned for them – he too was led away to be groomed for the ceremony, just as his bride-to-be was, at that very moment. He was bathed, his hair neatly trimmed and his face clean-shaven, and then returned to his chambers, where a new set of robes, made in the traditional fashion, was laid out on the bed for him. They had been carefully tailored to fit him, and the fabric, which he spared a moment to run his fingers over, was rich and elegant. For the cost of making this outfit, Harold imagined, one of his subjects could feed their family for a month. But he was king, was he not? Was he not owed the very best? And soon, he would have her. The beginning of the ceremony was quite painfully dull. He, too was blindfolded, a tradition in their kingdom, intended to represent a display of trust in the couple about to be married. He was led to the front of the Hall, followed on every side by excited murmuring. Once he had taken his place before the alter, led there by his chief advisor, the ceremony could begin in earnest, the minister droning on about this historic day and praising the king and the bright future he was certain to bring to his kingdom. It wasn’t until after his speech was over and the minister announced that they would now move on to the vows, and that the king was to remove his blindfold, that Harold finally snapped to attention. He eagerly pulled the length of black fabric off of his eyes and gazed out into the crowd. He saw her then, at the end of the aisle, surrounded by armed guards. Arranged that himself, hadn’t he? Tradition stated that only one person – a family member, usually – was to guide the bride down the aisle toward her future husband. But his bride had no family left, and he’d thought it would be a comfort to her, after her doubts of the night before, would remind her that she was still his prisoner, still the rebel that he had so lovingly tamed and claimed for his own.
Two guards began their slow progress down the aisle. One of the guards took Elian by the arm then, and began leading her toward Harold, who watched her every step hungrily. Two more guards, each baring a heavy broadsword, followed behind her. Finally, she was standing beside him, in front of the altar, and Harold reached out and took her hands in his as her guard dispersed. The minister led them through their vows then, as a hush fell over the watching crowd. Harold had been to many weddings, and he’d heard these words spoken so many times, but they sounded different today, somehow. Would her protect her? Honour her? Care for her in sickness? He repeated the words with confidence, never once releasing his hold on Elian’s hands, his heart racing as the ceremony progressed and he drew closer and closer to making her his queen, until finally … ❝I do,❞ The Minister instructed him to lift his bride’s veil, then, and he eagerly obeyed, pushing the heavy, thick fabric back off of the ginger’s face, delighted at the thought that the first thing she would see, after nearly an hour in darkness, would be him, no longer just her king, her captor, her master, but now also her husband. Gently cupping her face in his hands, he placed a long kiss on her lips, mindless of the cheers that had erupted in the Hall. There would be protests, in the days to come, from the nobles who thought her unworthy to be a queen, and from those who had supported the rebel cause and were saddened to see what Elian had been reduced to. But he would hear none of it today. ❝My queen,❞ he whispered into her ear as they made their way back down the aisle, through a sea of congratulations and well wishes, Harold even more pleased than he’d thought he would be to be calling her that at last. ❝Your subjects already love you.❞ The wall of guards reformed around them then, protecting them as they walked out of the Hall and into the open air, where a crowd ten times the size of that in the chapel waited to catch their first glimpse of the king and his new queen. They were ushered into a waiting carriage, which would take them through a tour of every major township in the kingdom, as per tradition with royal weddings in Aerilon, and after taking his seat in the coach, Harold wasted no time in pulling the ginger close to him, wrapping his arm around her, and adding, ❝But none so much as me.❞ And, for once in a life of cruelty and manipulation, King Harold was speaking the truth.
( & tricky tardis )
❝ —— No. Master could sleep beside me.❞
❝ —— Wouldn’t want me snoring, and hogging all the covers, would you?❞
&. drummxng liked for a starter
❝ Well now, that all sounds positively EVIL. ❞
❝ — I admire your efforts. ❞
❝Well ... cheers. Do you know, most people don’t appreciate my art. Be surprised, how many people have actually wanted to see me CONDEMNED for it.❞
…because you are traitors. Yes, you are! As soon as you saw the vote swinging my way, you abandoned your parties and you jumped on the Saxon bandwagon. So this is your reward.
aka: one of my favourite lines ever
( & angry tardis )
❝Master absolutely, dreadfully does! — And though I terribly appreciate that ( && don’t terribly appreciate my Time Lord falling asleep when he’s agreed to watch films with me ), he must horribly remember that no creature or being can TRULY enter into my shell without my permission!❞
❝And what if your security system should fail, or be tampered with? You think I should take the chance, then, do you? Just leave you all by yourself, unprotected, while you sleep?❞
