storyteller

Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing. _____ multi muse written and loved by wolf. established feb. 2018. canon muses only. please read rules first.

[sgeulachdan-blog]

FIND BATMAN / BRUCE WAYNE OVER AT @utilitybats

[bedlamjester-blog]

            what’s the point indelirium?                       what’s the fun in sanity?                                    didn’t you know?              insanity is just a bad day away.    welcome to bedlam. enjoy your stay. i’ll be your host while you’re here.

              who am i?    the joker of course !                      why aren’t you laughing?

       LAUGH — IT’LL MAKE IT HURT LESS.

                 WRITTEN BY WOLF // established 4/15/2018

[doineann-blog1]

    well.   i dont want to say too much.   but in recent weeks i lost my dog, started working about 14 hours a day, and one of my oldest and closest friends passed away.  i’m not doing super well health wise.  but i’m going to start the long process of making icons. 

     if anyone wants me - just ask for my discord and i’ll be glad to share.  i’m on there during the day at work so. that’s the best place to catch me.

[tesscharas]

SAN JUNIPERO SENTENCE MEME.  feel free to change context / pronouns as applicable. 

gotta love that track!

could you please stop it?

we’ve only got a couple of hours, so let’s use it.

you’re good at this.

i just wanna get my bearings a bit.

see you around?

go along with whatever i say!

okay, you’re just pestering now.

sorry for killing you.

if you don’t already know what _____ is, you probably don’t wanna know.

i’m regarding you.

i feel like i’m being analysed. 

i guess now they’re just kind of a comfort thing.

i figured they were kind of a fashion statement. but then the rest of your outfit is… not.

people try so hard to look how they think they should look.

you’re authentically you.

do you live here?

oh, my god! we have to dance to this!

dance floors aren’t my thing.

oh, let’s not limit ourselves.

why did you run away?

you were like a frightened horse on a frozen lake back there.

i’m kidding! … half kidding.

folks are way less uptight than they used to be.

if they were staring, it’s because i am bodacious.

i’ve never been on a dance floor.

what are you, like, amish? that’s one sheltered existence you’ve got there.

as far as my family’s concerned, i can’t do anything.

no one knows about even half the shit i get up to.

it’s from a place of love, though, right?

just the concept of me enjoying myself would blow their minds.

what would you like to do? that you’ve never done?

why waste time sitting here?

i’m, uh, i’m engaged. i have a fiance.

wanna go to bed with me?

oh… you’re nice.

can you hear me out? please? please.

look, i don’t want some kind of boring romance, okay?

it’s not just sex.

it was just sex.

we made a connection.

waiting for someone?

shall we dance?

can you just make this easy for me?

you never slept with a woman before?

i was in love with him. i really was in love with him.

i really was in love with him… but he chose not to stick around.

she’s worth the shot, right?

i’m sorry, i’m looking for someone.

why are you here?

i was looking for you. where did you go?

how the hell is this your era?

you don’t know who i am! you don’t know what this means!

this is not fun, okay? this is not fun! 

maybe you should feel bad. or at least feel something.

how many of them are dead?

i said i wouldn’t… i don’t know, do feelings. 

i don’t want to like anyone. so you’ve been just totally fucking inconvenient.

i wasn’t prepared for you, for wanting something.

i’m getting married.

you sure you’re going through with that?

i know he pities me. that pisses me off.

without this place, i never would’ve met someone like you.

if we really met– i mean if we really met– you wouldn’t like me.

i’ll give you some privacy. 

you’re ____? holy shit.

let’s go grab a coffee.

wanna marry me instead?

are you sure you’re alright?

you didn’t dress up to see me?

oh, i love it here! i just love it!

be with me.

stay here with me.

can we just enjoy tonight?

who can even make sense of forever?

hey, it’s real! this is real.

come on, you know that was just a gesture.

it’s not so kind to leave.

we got this chance! i just wanna share it with you. 

he could have stayed, but he chose to leave you.

you don’t know what you’re saying.

you should be mad at him, not whipping yourself with guilt!

you can’t know the bond, the commitment, the boredom, the yearning, the laughter, the love of it! the fucking love! you just cannot know!

did you think to ask? did it occur to you to ask?

you think you’re the only person who ever suffered? go fuck yourself.

i wish i could believe he’s with her now, that they’re together, but i don’t. i believe they’re nowhere. gone.

you wanna spend forever somewhere nothing matters?

i’m out! i’m gone! 

all things considered, i guess i’m ready. 

i guess i’m ready for the rest of it. 

[sgeulachdan-blog]

feracorda // reincarnate destiny.

She wanted to tell him sooner, but there was no easy way to let him in on this. There was no easy way to not shake his world even a little with this kind of information. Though his reaction was as she expected of him she had to admit a little disappointment. She was hoping for some theatrics. 

“ Would you believe me if I simply said ‘magic’?” as for her it was logical but there was much more to the story than that, but it was not something she’d tell him while currently undressed before him.  “ May I have your jacket, Charles? It’s cold.” she asked, reaching out her hand. “ If you don’t mind, and maybe something to drink. Perhaps tea, and then I can tell you exactly how this is possible.” 

       ‘     i don’t believe in magic harleigh ...  ‘   there is a half sort of smile on his lips,   perhaps more sad than anything else.   shrugging out of the tweed jacket he offers it to her,  chair coming from behind the desk to the sofa as the afghan was picked up and offered to her as well.   ‘  i’ll order up tea --...  and i’m certain we can find you some clothing as well.   ‘  

   he couldn’t put into words the emotions he felt.  he wanted to be simply happy.   after all she’d chosen to reveal herself to him eventually.   but somehow there was a melancholy to his ache.  perhaps because he’d mourned her,  perhaps because he’d felt her death more personally and more keenly than he’d care to admit.   back to the desk now -- he picked up the phone and called down to the kitchen.  he’d ask jean about clothing later.. 

         ‘    now --- what sort of magic do you think responsible for this?  ‘

[sgeulachdan-blog]

@groigne​ // sweet nan. 

          he makes promises                  like so many before him: harry percy had promised her to make her a countess, her father had promised her she would marry into ireland. when their courtship had begun, he had promised her to marry her, and she had pledged herself to him. she had sold her maidenhead in the form of diamond ship. 

          promises could only last so long until they became mere words, just wind, spoken but forgotten, prayed for but never acted upon. 

          ‵ but how long must we wait ? ′ their waiting has been done already: she has waited for henry to express his wishes for divorce to catherine, she has waited for wolsey to petition rome, she has waited for the church to give its reply, she has waited for all the opponents to the divorce to be chased away, one by one, until only allies remained. she has waited, so patiently, for this power shift, to be the last one standing by his side. but nothing really goes their way, does it ? 

           they have to rely on the knowledge of commoners, no matter how cunning they may be, cromwell leading them into his path for power. only he seems to hold in his hands the possibility of a marriage happening soon, and she has to trust him that he will secure that for which she has waited for so long. ‵ they have denied you often enough, and for long enough ′ rome mocked them, making up excuses for delay, for invalidity, for misinterpretation. they would not laugh for much longer once england would stop sending them the money from their churches. 

           but now is not the time to think of politics; now is the time of the night, of the whispers, of the intimacy they are not allowed when people are watching. ‵ i think it’s time i said my prayers, your majesty ′ she leans backward, but keeps his hand against her, sliding it across the boned bodice of her gown until his fingers encounter the ties holding the garment in place, at the back. her hand over his, she pulls at them until it loosens around her chest, revealing the white shift underneath, and the swell of her breasts falls back into its natural place. as she gets to her feet, she steps backward to pull the entirety of her gown apart, folding it carefully over the back of a chair for her ladies to find in the morning  -—  until she is standing in her smock only, and she smiles. ‵ will you say your prayers with me ? ′

             by the heavens he is enraptured by her.  the way her lips form the sweetest words,  the way her eyes darken -- she is pure but she is sin all in one.  he does not withdraw from her allowances.   but he holds steady --- allowing her to guide him.   for him... it is considerable restraint. 

     they will fight this -- by heavens above he will find a way to make her his.   his fingers curl against her skin until she guides it to the laces that restrain her figure.   she is a woman surely.   a sound escapes his lips --  almost as a prayer as the laces come undone under their mutual touch.  eyes following her form with lust as she stands so bare before him.  

            ‘     of course mistress boleyn... nan ----- my sweet nan...   ‘   he would gladly fall to his knees beside her.   even if he will not be allowed her sweetness tonight,  he will be inspired to find their escape.   to find and manufacture a reason.   there would be nothing to stand in their way.  

     ‘  let us pray for the end to this -- desert.   surely we have been... tested long enough.   surely we will not be forced to endure the forty years of moses... ‘  even as he watches her,   it is clear his lips speak one truth ...  but his eyes speak of a hunger entirely different.   he would have her lain out before him,   to worship her in every way a man might a woman.  he craved her.  desired her.  keened for her. 

     and yet she held fast to her purity.   to her insistence of marriage.   and who was he to resist?   oh they had argued in the past.   he had pressed his rank and she had left.   fled him and renounced him for attempting to take her as his mistress.   so now he would make her his wife even if it damned him.    ‘ the church has fallen from god’s will...  i must --- break away and bring it to rights... ‘

[pherotox-a]

❝   i   can   give   you  relief,   honey .   permanent   relief .   sweet   relief .  ❞    /   BY   TAYLOR.

[sgeulachdan-blog]

   i’m not saying @friendoftheood / @denoumenc fuel my obsession with period dramas but.  heLLA. casually adding john thornton and george knightly on top of ross poldark and fitzwilly darcy. 

[sgeulachdan-blog]

threecardtrick // most trusted. 

thomas knew that when the king was in a foul mood that it was best to steer clear of him, or at least to bother him with only what was necessary, if that could be avoided. bad news came only when the king was in better spirits… if he could not fix the issue by the time such a moment came. the king and the queen were quarreling and it seemed that they were doing so often. after all that the love had been professed… but he could imagine from where the king’s frustration stemmed from. he still lacked an heir… god had not yet blessed him with his greatest desire. and this was one matter in which there was nothing he could do. the happily married couple had to do that on their own.  as soon as he had been summoned by henry, he dropped everything and went to see him. everything but the king could wait. he was there at once, silent, hands folded, waiting to be spoken to. but the matter isn’t yet revealed. he merely nodded, walking alongside him. ❛how may i serve you, your majesty?❜ he asked, and it often the first question he asked, and what henry liked to hear: that he was willing to do anything and everything for him. and he was, because he knew what the consequences would be otherwise.

             ‘     walk with me.   ‘   and with that he has risen from his elevated seat.  a hand shooing away those that would rise to accompany him.   to defer to his whims.   the world seemed to understand his status.  but his own wife seemed in outright defiance of it.   had he not showered her with everything she’d wished?   had he not cut himself from the church he’d loved to gain the divorce she required?   what more must he do to please the wench. 

     his conscience has plagued him.   his mary has suffered from this marriage.   and while he does not spare thought often to her...   he has decided.    ‘    send to lady mary enough for new gowns.   two at least.   she will have grown.   she is a woman now.   she ought to be garbed as one.   ‘    there is a finality to his tone.  he has no wish to further anger his sweet nan ---  but his daughter is a reflection upon him.   

       ‘   take it from my own dressing allowance.  send some trinket from my own to adorn it with.  ‘    while perhaps there would be another courtier more suited to fulfilling this duty,  he trusted cromwell.    ‘   her state reflects upon me no matter the circumstance of her birth --.  ‘   it was a feeble excuse,  but what could he admit to?   that he missed his daughter?   it would not be allowed --. 

[sgeulachdan-blog]

funfatale // daddy’s little monster

     her  trap  shuts  obediently  ,  but  certainly  not  for  long  .  harley-girl’s  much  too  eager  to  please  !  there’s  no  aggression  present  ,  as  far  as  she  could  tell  ;  perhaps  his  mood  will  stay  this  pleasant  for  the  rest  of  the  night  ?  

     she  leans  forth  ,  hanging  on  every  word  ,  perched  on  her  knees  beside  him  .  (  if  his  touch  alone  doesn’t  send  something  down  her  spine  ,  then  what  he’s  eluding  to  certainly  will  !  )

     ‘     i  can  think  of  a  few  things  ,  puddin’  !     ’     her  expression  is  all  too  coy  ,  head  tilted  as  a  wry  grin  twists  those  pretty  red  lips  .     ‘     i  know  how  to  make  some  smiles  .  what’re  we  thinkin’  today  ?     ’          @sgeulachdan

        his girl is obedient -- a pleasant expression as his teeth clench --- lips pulling into a macabre smile.    his hand dropping to brush gentle fingertips along her cheek.    oh he loves her too much.   she distracts him.   destroys his edge.   she’s a weakness.   but whose he to resist what is so perfectly suited for him?    if he’s the king -- then she’s the god damn queen.

      ‘     baby doll          ----    you sure do get me.    ‘     it’s praise,   given without malicious threat or imminent demise.   perhaps he’s a little too smitten.   a little too attuned to her whims.   he does hate it when she’s trying his patience.   but when she’s giving him his way?   when she looks at him like he put the sun in the sky?   oh then is when his ego soars. 

            ‘      i’m thinkin’ --   ‘   he gives a pause as he rises to walk towards the kitchen table.    fingers gliding along its edge.   eyes darkening as he looks over the plans.    ‘    we oughta hit something big.    the mayor’s just been --- annoying me. don’t you think puddin’? ‘

[sgeulachdan-blog]

feracorda // caught in the spiders web.

Her world was spinning so fast, she felt like she was going to be sick, faint, or something like that. Maybe both - it’d certainly be a throw back to college. Though she’s not sure how badly she’d want to relive that just as how she’s not sure she wants to live…in whatever it is she’s living in right now.

As he pulled the lock off of her locker she half wanted to ask questions but none of them would form. Even as he told her it was nothing more than a bug she wanted to call him a liar, but the words just weren’t there no matter how many times she tried to open her mouth. 

So as he said he was taking her home she’d not put up a fight - she’d let him just hoping to close her eyes for a few moments and maybe - just maybe everything would feel normal once again.

              his sunglasses were offered to her,   ‘   wear these -- it’ll help.  trust me.   ‘   it wasn’t going to pleasant going out and about during this time of day,  but if it meant getting her somewhere safe for now?  he’d take it.  there was no way in heaven or hell he was letting her get hurt because of bishop’s twisted power play.

     an arm was secure around her as he guided her towards the door.   thankfully it seemed mostly empty,  as if everyone else had a purpose and a place to be.  then again -- both of them had up until half an hour ago.   

    pausing before they’d head out the door,  he took off his jacket wrapping it around her.   ‘   keep your head down,   let me guide you.   we’ll get you home and safe in no time.   ‘   he didn’t mention that neither was going to be able to stay.   turning nora had been a clear message to aidan -- one he found he couldn’t deny or ignore. 

[sgeulachdan-blog]

denoumenc // my dearest emma.

“mr knightley.” emma began as she entered the room, not caring that she interrupted his conversation with her father. ‘mr knightley, you must help me with something very important.”

       ‘ ---miss woodhouse.   ‘   he raises his gaze to meet her bright one.   there is a radiance about her as always.   perhaps she meddles too much.  perhaps she is too independent.   but he cannot help but adore her for her.   he has known her since she was a babe -- he has watched her grow into a lovely young woman.   for all her fathers particular habits,  she handles them with grace most becoming.  

                   ‘     i’m certain i shall be glad to be of any assistance i can be --. ‘

[sgeulachdan-blog]

feracorda // guiding star.

The alarm was always set even though Graham would rise before it, quick to put on his sweats and put on his running shoes and go around the town for an early morning jog. But on Sundays it seemed it was more turned out of habit even though he would take this day to unwind, rest, and enjoy the comfort underneath the blankets especially with it getting colder. 

When the alarm shut off is when he actually woke up to the way it seemed to gurgle. With one eye open he looked at the clock, then his attention turned to Emma as he didn’t smile , not at first. But he had to admit he found it amusing the various ways she has ruined each alarm clock so far this month. This being the third to die an interesting death. 

“ There is a button on the alarm for a reason, Emma.”

   when she’d gotten the memo about magic she’d never really realized the practical uses for it.  like killing alarm clocks.   a hum as she settled down beside her husband –  lips lifting into a smile as she felt him waking.

                 ‘    but then i’d have to move… and its warm.  ‘

    tucked as she was half against him,  half draped over him.  her arms encircling him. it was little wonder she was so unlikely to easily relinquish such a position.  her husband was a busy and important man.  today was her day to hoard him for as long as she could and fully enjoy his company… and his body  heat.

[sgeulachdan-blog]

fadetogrey // blood soaked hope.

In Dorne — the bastard hid her in Dorne. Three knights left to guard and watch over a prisoner while a war was being fought, while innocents died because a married man had to kidnap a girl. Oh, how he regretted not being the one who fought the prince that day at the Trident ; it should have been Brandon’s sword passing through the dragon’s throat, blood spilling everywhere, not the stag’s warhammer crushing his ribs. It should have been Brandon — for Lyanna, for his father. 

The wild wolf had no time nor he cared to see who would seek the throne after the king had been killed, a coward’s death, killed by one of those who should have protected him. The irony. Another death Brandon would have been more than interested in delivering, for what the man had done to the once lord of the North, than hearing about. King’s Landing wasn’t the place for him, then — he hoped, he cried ; she wasn’t there either. She was south still and he left in the middle of the night for her, to save her, just him and a couple of trusted friends. They were going to be more than enough ( Ned had left already for some other battle, a fight with the soon to be king the reason for it, but had he been in the red keep still, Brandon would have left him behind anyway — if he failed to save their sister, Ned was the only one who could ).

But there was no need for it ; the tower was in sight and he rushed towards it, blood boiling as rage, worry and fear moved him forward, a sour welcome offered by those knights who hadn’t fought alongside their prince and weren’t present to defend their king from the blade of the young lion. No, as cowards they avoided the fight to guard over a girl held against her will ( the dragon’s whore, some called her — as if it had been her choice to leave with the silver-haired bastard and Brandon couldn’t bring himself to even consider it a possibility ). The fight was unavoidable and it was only rage that guided the Stark’s movement, a desperate attack as his heart beat at the thought his sister was in the tower, that he could reach her, save her, bring her home where she belonged. 

By the time the battle was over his limbs were too heavy, too tired to even keep the sword, abandoned instead on the ground, as he ran towards the door, short of breath and covered in blood that was both his and of his enemies. The steps he climbed two by two, a bloody handprint left on the stone wall as he tried not to fall and kept going forward. The keys almost fell from his hand, as he tried to open the door and — she was there, she was truly there, dirty hair and dark circle under her eyes and…     « Lya! »      And soon he was by her side, knees hitting hard the floor but he cares not, arms wrapping around the girl’s shoulders and bringing her close to himself, leaving traces of blood and dirt on her skin and clothes. There are questions on the tip of his tongue — and curses for the dead prince — but that moment can wait.     « You’re safe now, I promise, you’re safe. »

       she has waited for so long.   she has feared the worst.   she has done the worst that she could to herself.  she has refused food.  she has refused sleep.  she had thought that death would be better than another night of the dragons touch.   yet when he had finally left it had been as if her prayers had been answered.   while still kept --- she no longer had to endure him.  perhaps she had even been almost flattered when the crown of beauty was given to her.   perhaps she’d even been a bit proud. 

                  but she was a foolish girl then.   she has become a woman now.

   that beautiful day a thousand memories ago.    she’d rejected and loathed the idea of belonging to the baratheon because he was so prone to taking women wherever he liked.   he declared himself smitten.   but what sort of man would do that to the woman he loved?   but she had learned that rhaegar targaryen was no better.   perhaps his words were dressed in prettier frocks,  perhaps his wine was sweeter and his tones less abrasive.   but he had stolen her.   stolen everything from her. 

    and for the first time now -- she can cry.  safe in the arms of her brother.   her savior.   she knows he is weary but she cannot bring herself to relinquish him.  she holds onto him as sobs wrack her thin frame. 

     finally she gains some control -- a nod.   a silent nod as she draws back.  hands playing over his features.     ‘    brother are you hurt?  ‘   she does not sound entirely like herself.   for the music of the north used to ring in her voice and laughter.   wild and free she’d been --.   but the dragon has sought to break her.   and the music has left her.   even wolves grow weary when caged.   even flowers fade when the sun is kept from them too long. 

                       ‘     father?   ned?   benjen?   ‘    she has heard only whispers from her guards.   known only the lies they will tell her.   but they tell her the dragons win.   they tell her nothing that could give her hope.   but she has believed none the less.   ‘   rhaegar ---- is he dead?   ‘    there seems to be some power as she gains her voice,  let them be alive.  let the starks have won this war with their family intact.  let them survive this.   let them be stronger for it. 

[dailyjuliannehough]

[sgeulachdan-blog]

@feracorda & @siondacait

[sgeulachdan-blog]

groigne // sweet nan.

        the attention of kings                   is not something she can boast about. in france, she was shy little anne, lingering in the shadow of her sister, dazzling and enthralling to men sitting in the highest spheres ; and anne had thought that mary was cut from a different cloth than her. something akin to the luxurious fabrics sushing along the floors. 

          when she comes back and finds men enticed, curious about the frenchness of her manners, she experiences the thrill of being admired, chased, pursued. when she fishes a much bigger fish than her family intended and pulls the earl of nothumberland out of the water, she thinks to herself, this is the best i can do. 

            but then, of course, people come and shatters any hopes she might have had to equal her sister,  somehow — she had thought, being a countess is better than being a courtier’s wife. she had thought, my family’s fortunes would be greatly improved, better than with william carey. 

            she waves goodbye to harry percy and vows to come back for more. and she does, and this time, it’s the biggest fish in the pond, and there’s no one to make her let go of her catch. now it doesn’t seem to matter that mary is the dazzling, the blinding, the shining one. she can’t keep him : once again, like a fine fabric going out of fashion, she is cast aside. and for the second time, it’s anne’s turn, to step out of her shadow, and to take her place. 

             and so she does, once the surprise is past. after a few years getting accustomed to the interest that is born to the boleyn sisters for their exotic-like nature, she has learned what to give and what to retain, what to yield and what to guard : she will only bend to matrimony, and she won’t make an exception for any regal bed. 

             “ if it pleases your majesty ” she bows her head, smiling — demure. “ the weather is exceptionally mild this april, don’t you find ? ” she remarks, hand on his bent arm. 

        it is not just her -- new french manners and education that incite him.   it is something within.  a fire that he craves to build to a flame.  henry has made choices since his brother’s death that would honor his brother, he had tried to live good arthur’s life.   he’d wed his bride.   honored his church.   fought wars in england’s honor.   but what of henry?  the charming imp of a boy who while audacious...  was drawn to different things in life than arthur. 

    that is what sweet anne boleyn has awoken within him.  a reminder of henry tudor.  a reminder of who he’d thought he’d be,  who he wanted to be.  the marriage to catherine was not overly unpleasant.  but she failed to produce male heirs,   and as a dedicated biblical scholar he could find no reason beyond that of their marriage must be impure...   thus steps had already been arranged where he’d begun to distance himself from her.

    did he immediately go to anne’s side?   not exactly.   but he would not deny himself the pleasure of her company for she was both a fine wit and a sharp intellect with which he found he could commune easily.   yet she pushes marriage.   she will not merely take him.   not rest assured that he will get her a vow of matrimony when he is able.   no she insists.   and the more she restricts herself from him,  the madder for want of her he finds himself.

      a hand lies gentle over hers as it rests in the crook of his arm.    ‘    it is warmer than most this april indeed --.   ‘   his gaze cannot help but admire the way her lips pull to a smile,  the way the faintest tendrils of hair escape the artistically worn french hood.   she is a sight to behold and he cannot deny his body stirs at the merest sight of her.   and no one can relieve the need of her.  for oh he has tried.

               ‘    the roses will come into bloom much sooner i believe -- if such mild days continue.   they will be a sight to behold by may perhaps..   ‘    how gratingly meaningless to discuss roses when he wishes to beg her to his bed.   to plead and demand.  to order and to cajole.   but he has begun to learn.   mistress boleyn is not to be dallied with.  she knows what he wants,  and she knows her price. 

[sgeulachdan-blog]

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