祝日 / Permanent Vacation
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
tumblr dot com
🪼
Monterey Bay Aquarium
YOU ARE THE REASON
@theartofmadeline
ojovivo
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Janaina Medeiros
almost home
Mike Driver
Peter Solarz
if i look back, i am lost
Origami Around
ellievsbear
Game of Thrones Daily
we're not kids anymore.
seen from United States
seen from Philippines
seen from France
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@thisisamadhouse
Reblog to give prev the power to write their fanfiction
Reblog to give prev the TIME to write their fanfiction
Reblog to give prev the hocus focus to write their fanfiction.
Reblog to give prev the energy to write their fanfiction
Reblog to give prev the executive function to write their fanfiction
Reblogs to give prev the missing plot points to write their fanfiction
Ted Lasso Christmas Special + a few of my fave moments
Ils sont enfin réunis! Et ils sont beaux 😍
KAAMELOTT : PREMIER VOLET dir. Alexandre Astier (2021)
Regina Mills/Robin Hood - LotR AU
Requested by @thisisamadhouse. Something to think about. I'm going to need a title for this universe.
AU setting: Regina of the Black Vale, a once-feared sorceress in the service of the Dark Lord, vanishes after the fall of Sauron, taking with her a cursed ring of power forged in secret. Now hunted across Middle-earth, she seeks redemption by unraveling the dark magic still poisoning the land, hoping to destroy what Sauron left behind before it destroys her. Robin, a noble Rider of Rohan and loyal to the king, is charged with tracking her down and bringing her to justice. Prompt: First time Robin realizes he is falling in love with Regina :.:
They rode into the village just past sundown, following a narrow track that curved beside the river. The settlement itself was modest, perhaps a dozen buildings, each leaning a little with age. Thatched roofs were darkened by years of weather and woodsmoke. The air smelled of river mud and pine resin, cut faintly by something warm... stew, maybe, or baked bread.
Robin let his gaze sweep the lane ahead. Children darted barefoot through the dust, chasing one another and chickens between homes. A dog barked once, then quieted. Women clustered at the well with pails in hand, their conversations low and idle.
For a moment, this place felt peaceful, until Robin glanced at Regina and saw her frozen in the saddle, her body rigid with attention. Her eyes moved slowly across the roofs and doorways, as if listening to something the rest of them couldn’t hear.
“There’s something here,” she said quietly.
Robin shifted in his seat. “What kind of something?”
She hesitated. “Old magic,” she finally whispered. “Buried deep, but it lingers like rot beneath the floorboards.”
Her voice wasn’t fearful, not even wary. It was the tone of someone familiar with the smell of decay, someone who had lived long enough with ruin to recognize it before others noticed the floor had begun to sink.
Robin said nothing while the words sat uneasily with him as they made their way to the inn. Whatever she’d felt in the air, it had struck her deeply enough to still her in the saddle, to sharpen the line of her jaw, to change the rhythm of her breath. He’d seen her frightened before, but this was different. This was like recognition.
They said little more that evening. At the inn, no one looked too closely. If anyone recognized her, they didn’t speak. Robin kept near her out of instinct, but she gave him no reason to draw his blade. She moved with the same quiet detachment she always did, speaking only when necessary, her cloak pulled tight against the room’s draft.
She retired to her corner without ceremony. He took the chair nearest the door, as he always did.
The first scream came well after midnight. Sharp and panicked, it pierced the hushed dark, jarring Robin from half-sleep. Then another, from farther off. He was already on his feet before his sword left the scabbard. He reached the threshold just in time to see Regina disappear around the corner of the inn, barefoot, cloak trailing behind her like the tail of a storm.
He followed.
The barn was already engulfed by the time he got there. Flame poured from the windows and burst through the half-collapsed roof. The fire wasn’t natural; he felt it in his chest before he saw it. It shimmered wrong in the air, too hot for what had caught, the smoke too thick and too still.
Villagers scrambled at the edges, forming a broken chain from the well. Buckets of water vanished into the heat before reaching the flames.
“Wraithfire,” Regina said beside him, her voice low, almost reverent.
Robin had never heard the word, but something in her tone made him go still. He turned toward her. “Can you stop it?”
“Yes,” she said, but there was a hesitation there. “But they’ll see me.”
He didn’t have time to ask what that meant, because she was already moving.
He saw the child a moment later. She was small, no more than six, and she was pressed against the barn wall, eyes wide behind the crumbling wood. Her fists beat against the boards, but her cries were already growing hoarse.
Robin shouted something, he didn’t even know what, but Regina didn’t wait. She ran into the fire.
The flames shifted around her, curled toward her like wind meeting stone. Her magic surged into the air like a breath held too long, the pressure of it humming just under the skin. She reached the girl, tore through the shattered door, and lifted the child into her arms. Smoke swallowed them both.
Then came the chanting. Low, rough, threaded with something ancient and terrible. Robin couldn’t make out the words, only the way the wind changed when they were spoken. The fire screamed, then recoiled, collapsing inward on itself like something wounded, drawn into the ground that had once fed it.
When the smoke cleared, the barn was blackened and half-standing. Regina emerged from the rubble, coughing hard, the child clinging to her. She carried the girl to the edge of the square and placed her gently into the arms of a waiting woman, then turned away.
Her legs gave out before she took two steps. She dropped to one knee in the dirt, her shoulders bowed, the last of her magic burned off into the air. Around them, the villagers stood in stunned silence. One man crossed himself. Another reached for a tool near the barn wall.
Robin moved before he could think, stepping between them and her, sword still in hand.
“She saved her,” he said sharply. “You saw it.”
A long silence followed. A few people exchanged glances, but no one stepped forward, and no one spoke. Eventually, they turned away. The tension broke like ice underfoot.
Later, after the girl had been returned to her mother and the hush of early morning reclaimed the village, Robin found Regina seated alone near the dying embers of the courtyard fire. She had washed the soot from her hands but not her face, and in the dim glow, the shadows clinging to her skin looked almost painted on. Her posture was still, her arms wrapped loosely around her knees, eyes fixed on the last flickers of flame like they might offer answers if she watched them long enough.
Robin approached quietly, the worn leather of his boots scuffing over packed earth. He didn’t speak at first, just crouched nearby, not close enough to intrude but not so far that it looked like he was keeping a safe distance either.
“You could’ve walked away,” he said after a moment, his voice low but steady. “No one would have blamed you.”
Her gaze didn’t leave the fire. “I’ve walked away before,” she replied, soft and without bitterness. “And every time, it cost someone more than it cost me.”
There was no dramatic flourish in her words, no plea for understanding, just a simple truth. It settled into him more heavily than any accusation ever could.
“They’ll talk,” she said after a moment. “They’ll say a witch came in the night, wrapped in shadow and flame. Some will twist it into a tale of terror. Others will turn it into a warning.”
“And what do you think it was?” he asked.
She turned her head just slightly, enough that he could see the profile of her face in the firelight, the sharp line of her cheekbone, the smudge of ash beneath her jaw, and the distant weight in her eyes.
“A choice,” she said. “One I’ve failed to make before.”
Robin studied her for a long moment. There was something quiet in him unraveling, something that had been wound too tightly for too long. For weeks, he had watched her, waiting for the moment her true nature would surface. He had expected anger, deceit, and hunger for power cloaked in half-measures of remorse. He hadn’t expected a woman sitting in the ruins of her past, not asking for forgiveness.
She hadn't saved the child to prove anything, hadn’t done it to be seen. She had simply done it, and Robin found that more difficult to reconcile than any tale he’d been told.
“I won’t forget what you did,” he said.
This time, she looked at him fully. She wasn't guarded or sharp. She just looked... tired and honest when she murmured: “You should. It doesn’t make up for the rest.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “But it still counts.”
She didn’t answer.
When he lay down to catch a few last hours of sleep, Robin felt the ache of something shifting in his chest. Not all at once, not like a sword drawn, but slowly, like a door that had been shut for years creaking open on its hinges.
He'd come to escort a weapon, to guard her, to end her if necessary. But now, watching her shoulder the weight of a choice no one saw but him, he wasn’t sure he could see her that way anymore. Somehow, that felt far more dangerous than she ever had.
That's how Robin is looking at her at the end!
This was beautiful, thank you so much for sharing it, and I hope to see more of this verse! 😍
Some witches skating
31 days, 6 prompts, 1 Home Sweet Home ✨🏡🎃🐈⬛✨
Happy Halloween! 🧡
Dame Maggie Smith as Muriel Donnelly The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (2015)
Dame Maggie Smith
1934-2024
Dame Maggie Smith
December 28, 1934 - September 27, 2024
I think we should write more straight relationships with 2010s TV queerbait tactics. Let that man and that woman's lives be horribly intertwined, let them take bullets for the other, let them be each other's meaning but NO KISSING. They are holding each other platonically. You're crazy for reading anything romantic into it at all tbh
J. SMITH-CAMERON and KIERAN CULKIN Emmy Awards (January 15, 2024)
Friend. Dearest mutual. Lovely follower. Random passer-by. I know we haven't shared a fandom in 5 years. I know we never talk. I know we may only barely recognize each other's icons, if that. I just want you to know...
Boop
they're divorced. they weren't even married. this isn't romantic. they're definitely not platonic. they're cinematic parallels. they are fighting the narrative. they slowly built their relationship. they rely and trust each other. they were aggressively thrown into this. they want to bite each other's head off. they kill for each other. they live for each other. they should kiss. they would put each other in a blender. they're insane. they don't even realise. they're fully aware it.
