my prince~*

I made a Diamond Mural!

Honestly I was listening to the Prince of Egypt soundtrack and I thought of Egyptian murals and I was like “I wanna draw White Diamond with hands like that” so I did. I liked the idea of there being a mural that depicted the Diamondsin a different context than just a “here are Diamonds! They exist!” kind of mural. It was a LOT of fun making everything much more linear and trying to immitate the SU artstyle for stuff like this

Now that all we’re waiting on Shiro’s is vlog… I want him to talk about:

  1. Being a leader
  2. What inspired him to become a pilot
  3. How he and Matt met (since he’s a friend of the Holt family)
  4. How he feels being called a “hero”
  5. What he thinks of his fellow Paladins + Coran and Allura
  6. His PTSD episodes
  7. Being able to pilot the Black Lion again
  8. Slav… (and Sven)
  9. His experiences as a student at the Galaxy Garrison
  10. His flashbacks (in depth) from being in Galra captivity
  11. How he feels about himself; his prosthetic hand; the Galra’s “greatest weapon”
  12. And last, but not least, Lotor
If you’re my Romeo then I’ll happily drink the poison: Chapter 5

Originally posted by honestholland

Authors Note: I’m so sorry this took forever, my cousin was super clingy and I’m tired as hell asdfghjkl. Thank you for staying patient with my ass and here the chapter FINALLY IS. The wedding shall be continued next chapter.

Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4


Word Count: 2072

Warnings: swearing, fluff, drinking

Romeo Taglist: @sarcasticvodka @spee-iderman @johnmurphys-sass @clairesrainbow @feeling-straange @fairydustparker @girlykittycat@ntmybssns @aussie-mantle @thatlittlenerdgirl @britdiandra @city-of-my-dreams @dumb-and-dumber- @callistosplanet @stillmissingnewt @inlovewithnovels @aussie-mantle @homecomjng @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @hillaryalyssa @the-perks-of-being-a-mackenzie @oceantostars @clarinetluv2015

Taglist: @tbholland @stephie-senpai @cersei-lannister @i-love-superhero @chinalois @behxndthemask @ttholland @johnmurphys-sass

Sometimes you wondered how the concept of weddings became so damn romanticized. It was supposed to be the best day of your life. The sun was supposed to shine down, everyone was supposed to be giddy for the new couple and the bride wasn’t supposed to worry her pretty little head about anything because the day would be perfect. You could not share those similar sentiments at the moment.

“Y/N get up,” Naomi hissed in your ear. You groaned, rolling over in your king sized bed, pulling the 500 count Egyptian-cotton sheets to cover your face. “If I have to be up you have to be up.”

“Naomi, leave me the fuck alone,” You hissed, keeping your eyes shut as if it would make her disappear.

“I told you to go to bed earlier, but did you listen? No!” She chastised. Letting out an indignant huff you flipped away from her and kicked your leg out attempting to whack her.

She yanked the pillow your head rested on and began smacking your back with it.  “Get UP.”

After a few more hits, you shot out of bed with anger and sleep clouding your vision. “I’m up, dammit.”

“Not my fault Azurian custom is an 8 am wedding,” She said, dropping the pillow. You glanced over at the clock to see it was 4:30 am.

“I’m gonna jump out a window.”

“Don’t be silly, c’mon let’s get you breakfast.”

You sighed, putting on your slippers and robe. “I feel like shit.”

“Because you and Tom had too much to drink last night at the rehearsal dinner.”

Oh yeah, that’s right. Bored to tears from the party the two of you created a fun little drinking game. Drink every time someone gave you side-eye, drink everytime someone did those cheek kisses, drink every time your mother gave a fake laugh. You got real tipsy real quick.

“I don’t want breakfast,” You groan, balancing yourself on the bedpost. Naomi took your hand and gave you ibuprofen. Hopefully, that would do the trick.

“I know darling, but you need to eat something we have a very long day ahead of us,” She sighed, leading you through the dimly lighted castle. Most people were still asleep but the bride needed the most time to look absolutely perfect.

“I want a cheeseburger and fries,” You requested. She sighed, getting you into the elevator and taking you down to the second floor.

“No, you’re going to throw up giving your vows,” She scolded. The golden doors slid open, and she dragged you out.

“Then what am I having for breakfast?” You whine. Naomi rolled her eyes, wondering how she now became your royal babysitter.

The second-floor kitchen was quiet. All the usual chefs were sleeping for another hour so they could be attentive with all hands on deck for the actual wedding.

You sat down on top of a counter while she dug through the fridge. Kale, spinach, coconut water, blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, bananas, and honey.

“I don’t want a salad,” You pout. She rolled her eyes.

“Why would you thi- nevermind just hush,” She said taking out a blender. She dumped all the ingredients in, along with a bit of protein powder and blended. The color was a murky berry color. At least Naomi was nice enough to put in a crazy straw before shoving it in your face. “Drink up.”

Someone else was also up in the castle, Harrison. He threw on some jeans, a tight long sleeve shirt and a snapback. Quietly he slipped out of his room and made his way down an emergency staircase.

There were a few guards leaned against exterior walls but they were nowhere near alert. Haz wondered if these people were in on the plot as well or if it was just a select few. If the entire team turned out to be full of traitors that’d be pretty damn hard to take down. 

He managed to get to his private car without any questions asked. His driver smoothly pulled away, getting onto the empty road. They rode in silence for around 50 minutes before arriving at the closest airport. He rolled the window down once he saw a familiar face.

“Took you long enough fucker,” Prince Jacob of Chialia said. An airport worker opened the door, helping the visiting prince into the car before dumping his luggage in the trunk.

“You know you could have just asked for a car service,” Harrison sighed, giving his friend a hug.

“Not in this crazy ass kingdom. No offense to Tom but I don’t trust any of his people since they’re apparently plotting to get rid of him. God knows they won’t protect my ass,” Jacob put bluntly. He glanced out the window to make sure his own personal security team made their way into their own car and were following closely behind. 

“Fair enough, I’ve been extra cautious these past few days and Naomi has been downright paranoid.”

“Ah, so I finally get to meet the infamous Naomi. She knows you have a thing for her.”

“I don’t have a thing for her we’re just working together to save our best friends asses and she happens to be attractive.”

“Surprised you haven’t made a move on her yet.”

“This isn’t interrogate Harrison time.”

Jacob chuckled, laying off of him. The two were mostly silent for the car ride, just making polite chatter until they arrived at a private villa. Security flocked the grand mansion fully armed. 

Harrison and Jacob got out of the car and were granted access to the home, decorated glamorously. They followed the bright light at the end of the corridor, taking them to the living room.

“Last two at the party,” The owner of the house hummed. She sat on her couch lazily as a nail technician, painted her long nails. Princess Laura, soon to be Queen, sleepily glanced over at her friends.

“Did you expect anything different?” Princess Zendaya chimed in from another couch, curled up in a long sweatshirt.

“Even Tony beat you two here,” Laura scoffed.

“Feeling the love,” Tony said with an eye roll.

“Yes, I get it we’re late blah. Let’s just focus on what matters,” Harrison said. “All of your teams know the plan.”

“Of course,” Zendaya grunted. “And it only goes into play if things go left.”

“Are we sure we don’t want Tom to know?” Laura asked sleepily.

“No, because he’ll be paranoid and he has a big mouth so it’s better to keep him in the dark. So we’re going to keep things hush, got it?”

Tom sat down in his shower, letting the water stream down his body. He grunted running a hand through his damp curls. It was too early for this shit. His head rests against the wall and he let out a deep sigh. He was handling the hangover a bit better than you, considering he was used to it.

Everything was happening so quickly. He was about to get married. He was about to be your husband and after that king. The pressure was building.

He sat in the shower for maybe another 30 minutes before getting up. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stared at himself in the mirror.

It was time to grow up. People were now relying on him. Did he even look like a leader? All he could see was the immature teen.

“Fuck it’s actually happening,” He groaned at his reflection. He left the bathroom, going back to his bedroom.

“Thought you drowned,” A voice said. Tom almost dropped his towel and whipped around to see Harrison in some sweatpants and a shirt.

“Why the fuck are you up?” Tom asked. He pulled on grey Calvin Klein sweatpants.

“I am your best man so I guess it’s my job to make sure you have your shit together,” Haz said with a shrug. “Maids brought you breakfast in bed.” He pointed to a cart with a full breakfast.

“I feel like the only reason you’re here is because Naomi is busy with Y/N,” Tom grunted pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Mmm yeah, it was sort of annoying when she had to leave around 4 to get your future wife up,” Haz said.

“So you two slept together?” Tom asked. Haz shrugged as a response. In reality, Naomi came over to his quarters to talk about the plan and maybe the night ended with her falling asleep in his arms.

“Enough about me, eat up you have shit to do.”

“My darling you look angelic,” Your mother said with tears glistening her eyes. She adjusted pressed a kiss on your forehead and gripped onto your arms. “He’d be so proud of you. Remember that my beautiful girl.”

“I know mama, I want to make him proud,” You said taking a shallow breath, looking down at the gown that adorned your body. You were clothed in a large princess ball gown. The bottom and top of the gown trimmed with lace. There was so much fabric it almost consumed you. Naomi decided to do a tight bun, your crown fastened around that and then your veil attached. She gave you a nude manicure, with diamonds adorning your fingers. You looked powerful, not like an innocent little girl. A queen.

“He’ll always be proud of you. You’re perfect and will exceed every expectation he has for you,” She smiled, wrapping you in a hug. You shut your eyes just to appreciate the moment. 

“It’s time,” Naomi softly said, cutting off the moment. You opened your eyes again and held an arm out for your maid of honor to join the hug. She looked gorgeous (no surprise there) in a sparkly gold dress with her hair in soft curls.

“I’m getting married,” You said shakily. Naomi flipped the front veil over your face, to shield yourself from prying eyes. No time to look back now.

Tom shakily stood behind the grand French doors blocking him from the guests. Behind him was the entire bridal party, minus Y/N of course since that was bad luck. A soft orchestra began playing and the doors opened. All of the guests stared at the prince as he stood at the top of a grand staircase. 

The ceremony was set up in a perfectly manicured garden. He made his way down the stairs alone. His strides were filled with purpose, his leather shoes pressing into the aisle runner. He looked around, his eyes landing on his group of friends. They all sat together, with a premium viewing of the main event. Everyone gave him a reassuring smile, only able to imagine the panic that must be filling his mind.

He made his way to the end of the altar, standing next to the family priest. He held his head high, trying to look as royal as possible. He knew his black tux made him dress the part but personality would sell the impression of regality.

The next people to make it down the aisle were his parents. His father wore a black tux with a gold bow while his mother wore a golden dress with long sleeves. The entire time Tom made eye contact with his mother. Instead of a kind smile, she gave a serious look that he better not fuck this up. The two took their seats in the front row. Your mother and brother did the same, making their way to their prime seats.

Next was the bridal party. Tom’s brothers were matched up with some of your friends. Instead of picking one dress style, you chose varying designs that looked cohesive yet flattered everyone’s personality and body shape. White roses graced their hands.

Harrison and Naomi ended the walk, arm in arm. Tom smirked, seeing the genuine happiness on his best friends face. He wanted to say something but knew it wasn’t smart to do so in such a public setting.

The orchestra on hand began getting louder, signaling everyone to stand. Tom attempted to relax his sweating hands. From the top of the staircase you appeared, making Tom lose his breath. The dress made you look angelic. Holy shit I’m marrying this woman.

Super quick Lamen comfort fic for @mxlfoydraco who is Suffering ™ with school things, and hopefully this little drabble makes things feel a little easier.  ILYSM!


“Enough.”  The voice speaks, easy and quiet against the back of his ear, warm hands lifting him from the desk where he’s been sat hours–maybe days, who knows.  

There’s just too much to finish, too many holes to fill, too many preemptive strikes to make to ensure nothing happens to him–to them.  To their kingdom, which they’ve worked too long and too hard to keep.

Laurent knows he should argue, should push back, but it’s impossible when Damen’s massive arms encircle him, drawing him back against a large, broad, almost naked chest.  Through his own clothes, Laurent can feel the warmth seep into him, almost renewing him in a way that he can’t quite explain, but he knows by now he doesn’t ever want to live without.

Warm lips find the exposed sliver of skin just above his high collar, and they rest there, breathing him in.  “You can’t piece together our countries in a single night.  You need rest, or what good will you be to anyone.”

“To you, you mean,” Laurent snarks, but it’s without venom.

Damen knows this, laughs as he turns Laurent in his arms.  His hands, so massive one palm covers nearly all of Laurent’s cheek, move to his face and they cup it tenderly.  “I am not such a prideful man that I cannot admit I need you.”

Even after all this time, amidst all the promises they’ve made, amidst all the sacifices they’ve given for each other, for this, Damen’s honesty still makes his knees weak.  “I could last another hour or two,” he says, still pushing.

Damen smiles enough his dimple shows, and Laurent wants to push his finger into it, though he refrains.  “Yes, my love,” and the term of endearment hits him right in the gut, “I am aware of what you can do.  But you’ve sorely neglected your own needs.”

And then Damen takes over.  Then he bosses Laurent into their bedchambers, into night clothes, under the sheets of their impossibly soft bed.  It’s another shock that Damen tries nothing more than to curl Laurent against him, to hold him, to try and sieve his stress from his body by touch alone.

He asks for no more than Laurent is willing to give, and sometimes Laurent is afraid to let himself believe that Damen wants these simple, quiet moments.  That he is content with holding him just as he is with making love to him.  But there is no pressure for anything other than this, no request for more.

Just a moment which allows Laurent to relax, to let the rest of their fragile world exist outside his periphery.  Just a moment to remind himself this, this is what he fought for, this was what he was willing to let himself have.  In the end.

A Kingdom and This, as The Regent and as Kastor’s bodies rot.

He supposes there should be a part of him which feels guilty for the lives lost, but he can’t.  He’s not a better man than this, and he’s learnt to live with it.

He turns his head slightly, seeking a kiss.  One finds him, Damen’s lips pliant, soft, undemanding.  Damen’s hand brushes along his nape, into his hair, curling itself in the locks as he keeps Laurent close to him.

“Sleep, sweetheart.”

Laurent scoffs, but he lets himself fall against Damen’s chest.  Lets the gentle, steady, sure thrum of Damen’s heart guide him into sleep.  The rest of the world, at least for now, can wait.