quill necklace


“I will suffer no more.”

Crime in the Queen’s Court [x] | #ndfashionmonth | Day 29: Nancy Drew Book You Want A Game Based On

One book I would love a game based on is Crime in the Queen’s Court. It’s no secret that I would love to have a game set at a Renaissance Faire, and this book provides the perfect backdrop. I would especially love if more Shakespeare references were brought in, maybe even weaving in a historical Shakespeare mystery along with the modern mystery. To create a look inspired by this dream game of mine, pair a cream blouse with a gold jacquard skirt, a black cape coat, scroll embellished black tights, black socks, black heeled boots, and a box clutch. Heraldry earrings, a quill necklace, a Shakespeare quote necklace, a filigree bracelet, a statement ring, a crown ring, and a quill hair clip complete the look.


The Ron Weasley Prompt: One muse sticking by the other when no one else will. From this list of prompts. Requested by diva-gonzo

Her upbringing shows in fleeting moments. The way she walks, as if gliding, her hips swaying subtly. Her cravings, though infrequent, for expensive cuts of meat, always paired with fine wines. Her calligraphic handwriting, her proud spine. Despite what she grew to be, her roots are, after all, Black.

Today is her nineteenth birthday. She gives me that graceful smile as I watch her open my gift. I feel bashful as I stare at the simple quill and necklace I gave to her. They seem to stare at me from their place on the table; two solitary gifts on a large wooden table reminding me of how little I can give her.

Once, she told me about the ball her parents held in honor of her seventeeth birthday. She hadn’t meant to brag, but I couldn’t look her in the eye for a day. I had been courting her then, with polite study dates in the library and short chats in the halls on the way to class. My mates teased me incessantly about it. “You oughtta aim a bit lower, Tonks,” they had said. And part of me believed them. But part of me held out hope, with every shy smile she flashed as she walked to the Slytherin dorms, with the way her fingers would brush against mine when passing me an ingredient in Potions. I loved her before I had even realized it, and I knew I’d love her even if she was married off to some pureblood. I felt like a fool. A common muggleborn fool. 

But then, one morning, she grabbed my hand in the Great Hall and walked me in front of her sisters, her face like stone, her eyes determined. And then she kissed me for the first time. We were married less than a year later.

I remind myself that she is my wife now, as I fidget with my hands under the table, bare with its absence of gifts. “I know it’s not much, but I thought you’d look pretty with it–” I start.

She doesn’t let me finish, because she is suddenly kissing my face, her kisses dancing across my eyes, my nose, my forehead, my lips, and I am reminded of ballet dancers and the way they spin across the floor. I make a mental note to remember this moment, the images, the feel of her soft lips memorizing my face, how it feels to have her in my arms.

“You are more than I could ever have hoped for, Ted Tonks,” she whispers, her eyes fierce as they were the day we first kissed.

We are poor, living  on my starting salary in exile from all that she knew. We take care of her heirlooms, because one day, perhaps we’ll need to sell them. We rent a studio flat, and we decorate it with things I find on the sidewalks. We eat canned smoked oysters and drink cheap wine now, but we pretend we are on picnic in some manicured garden, and we are so happy most days that we fall to bed exhausted, the hint of smiles still on our faces.