barrels of oil
BREAKING: Keystone Pipeline leaks 210,000 gallons of oil in South Dakota

A total of 210,000 gallons (5,000 barrels) of oil leaked Thursday from the Keystone Pipeline in South Dakota, the pipeline’s operator, TransCanada, said. Crews shut down the pipeline Thursday morning and officials are investigating the cause of the leak. 

Gee, who could have foreseen this happening? Oh. Wait. EVERYONE. EVERYONE KNEW THIS WAS GOING TO FUCKING HAPPEN.
Stop swooning over Justin Trudeau. The man is a disaster for the planet | Bill McKibben
Donald Trump is a creep and unpleasant to look at, but at least he’s not a stunning hypocrite when it comes to climate change
By Bill McKibben

Donald Trump is so spectacularly horrible that it’s hard to look away – especially now that he’s discovered bombs. But precisely because everyone’s staring gape-mouthed in his direction, other world leaders are able to get away with almost anything. Don’t believe me? Look one country north, at Justin Trudeau.

Look all you want, in fact – he sure is cute, the planet’s only sovereign leader who appears to have recently quit a boy band. And he’s mastered so beautifully the politics of inclusion: compassionate to immigrants, insistent on including women at every level of government. Give him great credit where it’s deserved: in lots of ways he’s the anti-Trump, and it’s no wonder Canadians swooned when he took over.

But when it comes to the defining issue of our day, climate change, he’s a brother to the old orange guy in Washington. 

Not rhetorically: Trudeau says all the right things, over and over. He’s got no Scott Pruitts in his cabinet: everyone who works for him says the right things. Indeed, they specialize in getting others to say them too – it was Canadian diplomats, and the country’s environment minister, Catherine McKenna, who pushed at the Paris climate talks for a tougher-than-expected goal: holding the planet’s rise in temperature to 1.5C (2.7F).

But those words are meaningless if you keep digging up more carbon and selling it to people to burn, and that’s exactly what Trudeau is doing. He’s hard at work pushing for new pipelines through Canada and the US to carry yet more oil out of Alberta’s tar sands, which is one of the greatest climate disasters on the planet.

Last month, speaking at a Houston petroleum industry gathering, he got a standing ovation from the oilmen for saying: “No country would find 173bn barrels of oil in the ground and just leave them there.”

Yes, 173bn barrels is indeed the estimate for recoverable oil in the tar sands. So let’s do some math. If Canada digs up that oil and sells it to people to burn, it will produce, according to the math whizzes at Oil Change International, 30% of the carbon necessary to take us past the 1.5C target that Canada helped set in Paris.

That is to say, Canada, which represents one half of 1% of the planet’s population, is claiming the right to sell the oil that will use up a third of the earth’s remaining carbon budget. Trump is a creep and a danger and unpleasant to look at, but at least he’s not a stunning hypocrite.

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A little oil-barrel dog I made for fun. Design largely inspired by  Tarō Okamoto.

Practiced rigging from scratch, though I ran into an issue I couldn’t find more about. I want to limit the joint rotation on the knees, but it is attached to an IK system. Maybe me more technically savvy followers can maybe help me out?

I have the model/rig for download here. It is kind of janky (I have two IK systems on the legs for different rotations) but feel free to do anything within reason

Keystone Pipeline Oil Spill Reported In South Dakota

TransCanada, the company that owns and operates the Keystone Pipeline, says that an estimated 210,000 gallons, or 5,000 barrels, of oil have spilled near the small town of Amherst, S.D.

The cause of the leak is under investigation, according to the company’s website. TransCanada crews detected a drop in pressure at about 6 a.m. CT Thursday morning and shut down the pipeline, which runs from Hardesty, Alberta, to Cushing, Okla., and Wood River/Patoka, Ill.

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Morgiana in 1001 Night’s

After going through Volumes 1 till 20 for Scanlations i noticed one particular Artwork in Volume 7 with Morgiana. 

In 1001 Night’s in the tale of “Alibaba and the forty thieves”, Morgiana kept resisting and tricking the thieves who tried to get to Alibaba’s house to kill him. At one point the thieves stow away in Oil Barrels carried by mules to infiltrate the house. Morgiana, after going out to borrow some oil, noticed that and takes the only genuine Oil Barrel left. She pours it over the thieves and burns them to death.

This just peaked my interest as iv’e seen plenty of Original 1001 Nights Artwork to compare it to.

Original Morgiana Artworks:

Imagine being shared between Harald and Halfdan

Note: Especially for one of the most supporting followers I have here, @itharley! I hope you like it girl, did the best I could. Sush a big Halfdan addiction I have, don’t give me idea’s for a part two or something. x’D
Warning: Blood, violence, smut (!!) and those murderbro’s
Words: 3995

Tags: @miss-brightly-red @raekenimages @kissmyneckbad @belle-scarre @imaginesparadise @decaffeinatedeaglefart

‘A lot of men but weak defenses.’ One of the scouts panted, standing still before the three of you. You leaned against a tree, rasping your knife over an apple before looking aside to King Harald and Halfdan.
‘We have a lot of men to.’ King Harald applied, looking over his shoulder to the forest that was soaked with his men. The scout was a little transformed into a Christian, he was dressed up like a monk and urged himself out of the clothes like he was afraid the Christian lord would haunt him down for it.
‘What kind of defenses?’ Halfdan asked. You looked down the hill to the small kingdom, three watch towers, a castle but hardly more to see from up here.
‘They have barrels of oil, in a shed that they can pore down from the waiting towers onto the gate in which we have to enter.’ The scout explained. You swallowed the piece of apple and narrowed your eyes.
‘Where do they keep it?’ You asked. The scout turned to you, pointing to the shed you hardly saw from this height.
‘With the weapons, aside that castle.’ He pointed out. You chuckled, looking aside the scout towards King Harald and Halfdan.
‘What?’ Harald asked, admiring the smile spreading over your lips. You threw you apple away, pushing yourself away from the tree.
‘Only a fool keeps weapons and barrels of flammable substance in the same shed.’ You smiled, giving Halfdan his knife back and turning your gaze back to the kingdom down in the valley. ‘Give me an arrow, a high point and some fire and I will gave you free entrance and a victory.’ You nodded, already sure you could hit that shed from a point that the whole thing would set to fire.
‘And I will reward you for it.’ King Harald said, giving you that smug smile you so much liked on his face. He and the scout walked away while you turned back to the kingdom. Halfdan wrapped an arm around you from behind, placing his lips on that sensitive spot right under your ear.
‘Double.’ He promised you, holding you tight. You leaned your head against his shoulder, turning your head a little to look at him.
‘Who catch me first.’ You taunted him. He chuckled, scraping his teeth over your neck to leave a shivering down your spine before he made himself loose from you, walking away and leaving you with that feeling again.

You climbed yourself into a tree to have a good point to hit that shed. The scout from earlier got back inside, guaranteeing you he would order the barrels and pour one out so the fire would spread fast. You looked down to the Viking boy with the torch. You putted your arrow into the flames until the point hit fire before you aimed for that shed. King Harald and the others were already hidden before the gate, ready to attack as soon as you lost that arrow and the small kingdom started to panic. You smiled before releasing the arrow, already drawn into the fight adrenaline you felt. The arrow hit one of the barrels that immediately started to catch fire. It didn’t took long, the fire crawled over the ground, spreading over the whole shed in less than seconds. People started yelling and you saw the Vikings running towards the gate. Being a pretty good archer you stayed up there, killing everybody that came to close to endanger one of  the Vikings. Harald turned around to a soldier you hit before he got even the change, he looked up to the tree and you smiled, getting that thirsty look of him back.

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It’s October 11th 2017

NSP’s Under the Covers Vol. II pre-orders start today!

Here’s a good Dan song to listen to today: Objects Of Desire by Ninja Sex Party

Here’s a good Grumps episode to watch today:
Super Mario Galaxy: Just Bros - Part 11

Here’s a cool Dan fact for you today:
When Dan was touring with the Hues, they found out that they could convert their van to run on vegetable oil instead of gas. So they went from town to town buying used barrels of oil from restaurants and the like.

Here’s a good picture of Dan to look at today:

A million invisible threads

Summary: Across seven decades, and through pivotal moments in the life of the Winter Soldier, there is someone in the background trying desperately to keep him from losing himself.

Characters: Bucky x Reader
Word count: 6,100
Warnings: This is Winter Soldier territory and it’s not always nice. Violence and death.

A/N: Yep it’s long. I am not an historian and it’s not canon, so there is an element of historical manipulation in some places, just go with it. Had fun writing this, thoughts are always welcome!


Originally posted by busygina

In every life, there are a million invisible threads connecting each person to themselves. Some lives are happy and fulfilled, the threads strong and secure. Other lives are filled with unimaginable grief and horror, the threads damaged and broken. Every decision made, every choice leading down a new path, the implications reverberating across the span of a lifetime. The threads of any one life can fray and break, but they can be brought back together, held in the hand of someone you never know is there.

She is always on the edges, dancing along the periphery of his situation. She is not there to stop the worst from happening, she knows and accepts that sometimes the worst outcome is the only option. No one else notices her, she fades in and out of the memories of all those around her, an effortless talent that is simultaneously effective and tragic. As the years pass, as he spirals further and further, loses more of himself with ever step he takes, she picks up the broken threads he sheds after every mission. Tying them together, tucking them away, and searching for the opportunity to lay them down in front of him, reminding him of who is. She asks nothing in return, except that he keep fighting, keep his fingertips stretched toward the light, instead of descending into the bleak darkness he craves.

He never remembers her. Every interaction, no matter how large or small, is torn from his brain at his return. Even though every experience with her feels new, what his handlers are unable to understand, is that even when something leaves the mind, it can remain in the heart, because there exists a muscle memory that can’t be altered. In the heat of his moments with her, the feeling would always come, sharp and visceral, but heartbreakingly brief, making him believe if he just focused, if he just tried harder, he could find the answer. Sometimes he is so desperate to remember, he could scream with the pain. But most often, the guilt is so intense, he is desperate to forget.

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Abandon All Hope (Part 5)

A/N: This was a fic I have been really excited about writing. Believe me, I was constantly talking about it to my friend for days. This is kinda an AU but kinda not. Everything that is happening in TWD is still happening. Some stuff has changed for the Winchesters background with Supernatural but there’s still a lot of the same things happening. I hope you all enjoy and would love to hear your positive feedback. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged.

Summary: (y/n) Winchester is just trying to survive the new world of the apocalypse with her brothers, Sam and Dean. While looking for your father, John, you come across two men who welcome you to their community, Alexandria. The events that follow will test the limits of not only your mind and body, but also your heart.

Pairings: Eventual Daryl x reader (almost), Dean x sister!reader, Sam x sister!reader

Characters: (y/n), Daryl, Rosita, Denise’s body, Dwight, Saviors, Eugene, Abraham, Sam, Dean, Glenn, Michonne, Rick, Maggie, Sasha, Aaron, Carl, saviors, Negan

Word Count: 3983

Warnings: language, angst as fuck, fluff, death, Negan (yes he’s a warning) 

Tagging: @thewalkingdeadfanfiction, @daryldixonwife1987, @omlbeans, @the-silver-iris, @sebbylover24, @megsense, @loricwizardbluetoastedcake, @youandyourstupidrope, @canadianjelly, @abnormal-angel, @shinydixon, @onlydarylnormanfic, @jodiereedus22, @crystallovesdaryl, @negan-dixon, @deepsouth, @multifandomizer, @sapphire1727, @johnmurphys-sass, @waayward-angel, @sassy-specter, @tiquismiquis, @frozenhuntress67, @saintflandus, @steve-rcgcrs

Masterlist [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Originally posted by out-in-the-open

Originally posted by kurt310

Originally posted by xwinterdreams16x

“Put your guns down!” The man yelled. You had never seen him or the other men before, but the way Daryl was looking at him, you could tell he knew him. “And you, with the dead girl in your lap.” You looked into the eyes of the man. His face was horribly scarred on one side and you wondered what may have happened, but you didn’t really care at this time. “Stand up and keep your hands where we can see um.” He demanded.

You placed Denise’s head onto the ground and slowly got up. You kept your hands where they could see them, but not in the air. You didn’t want to stoop to these assholes’ level. Daryl and Rosita were doing the same as you. “Who the fuck are you?” You demanded to know.

“I’m D, or Dwight. Whichever you prefer.” Dwight gave you a small bow after introducing himself. He was a cocky son of a bitch, that was for sure. He then let his eyes run up and down your body without even trying to hide the fact that he was doing it. You cringed at the thought of what he wanted to do to you, but you stood tall and didn’t back down. “He was right, you are hot as hell.”

You knitted your brows together. Who was he talking about and how did this man even know who you were. He was giving you the creeps and the way the other men were ogling you, you knew they were probably thinking the same thing. “Who’s right?” You decided to ask.

“Don’t talk ta ‘er!” Daryl growled at Dwight. He began to move to stand in front of you to protect you from him but Dwight aimed the crossbow he had at him. He stopped and grimaced at the man then eyed the weapon in his hands.

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I Despise You - Edmund x Reader (Pt.4)

Warnings: none

Characters: Edmund, Lucy, Peter and Susan Pevensie and (Y/N)

Setting: The Golden Age, Narnia

Blurb (???i think???): (requested by @alwaysinnarnia) The reader is a Swordswoman/Knight of Doorn and visits Narnia, soon getting off on the wrong hand with King Edmund. She stays in Narnia and they train together, and they become friends and maybe something more…

Tagging: @alwaysinnarnia @wantingtobekorra sorry if I missed someone!!


As (Y/N) glided down one of the many hallways of Cair Paravel towards the dinning area, a series of thoughts appeared and began weave themselves into her brain.

At first, it was the question of ‘What’s being served tonight?’ and her happy expression followed by a very strange action of twiddling her thumbs. There was a slight skip in (Y/N)’s step and through the silence she thought she heard herself unconsciously humming.

Yes she was happy, and yes she seemed like every one of her problems were as small as can be; until she spotted Edmund Pevensie in the hallway, staring at a painting set on the wall of his sister’s. He had his arms behind his back and his eyebrows knitted tightly together in a worried manner.

(Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows as well and moved quietly behind him at a fair distance and said, “Dinner’s that way, King Edmund.”

She heard the quiet breathing of the king in front of her as he tilted his head to the side. “Susan’s face looks quite crooked, don’t you think?”

“I think yours does but I don’t comment.” She retorted happily.

He turned around to face (Y/N), his arms still crossed behind his back. His expression quite firm.

(Y/N) stated, “I was just kidding.”

“Yes I know.”

The silence that followed numbed her ears as she searched Edmund’s dark eyes and the crown atop his head.

(Y/N) cleared her throat to break the silence. “So, aren’t you coming to dinner?”

“Unfortunately, no. I have a meeting.”

“Do you mind if I come?”

He chuckled softy and took one step closer towards her. “I don’t think you’ll be interested in talking about the transportation method of our resources.”

“Oh.” (Y/N) said with a small smile across her face. “Well then I’ll see you later if you don’t mind, I wanted that book you were talking about during training.”

“Of course. Have a nice dinner.”

She gave a small bow and walked off, disappearing behind a column in the hall.

For the past week, Edmund and (Y/N) have been training every day, and each day there was an argument or disagreement over something. Yes, they had made a sort of peace in the kitchen but it was unlikely to last for the rest of the time they knew each other.

But today, there were no arguments or stupid things to fight over.

(Y/N) approached the door of the dining room and entered, only to meet eyes with an unfamiliar man sitting across from Peter. They both stood as she shut the door.

“Please (Y/N) take a seat, Lucy and Susan will be dining in a different room.”

“What’s going on?” She inquired, the sound of her heart becoming louder and louder. “Did something happen?”

(Y/N) took a seat next to Peter and shifted uncomfortably as the stranger began to settle his eyes on her. She glared unknowingly, surveying his eyes before the man looked towards the king again.

“I apologise that I arrived on such short notice, my Lord.” He said, and (Y/N) quickly picked up his slight accent which sounded slightly like hers; subtle, but still there.

“(Y/N),” Peter said. “This is Yaro; and he’s carrying a message from your family. He will explain why he travelled all the way here soon. If you have any problems, at all, let me know immediately.”

The man with a scruffy beard stood, placed a hand over his heart and bowed low; the sign of respect shown before a noble in Doorn. “I am grateful for letting me speak with Knight (Y/N). It will not take long I assure you.”

Peter’s blue eyes glinted in the sunlight bathing the dining hall. He sent (Y/N) a look of comfort and placed his arm on her elbow for reassurance before walking off; the door that shut behind him released a small echo.

She was then left alone with the stranger and the distant sound of kitchen utensils and voices were all she wanted to focus on. She noticed her quickened heartbeat as she clamped her fingers around the armrest of her chair.

“What news do you bring, Yaro?” (Y/N) managed to say with a steady voice. His empathetic stare made her extra worried.

“There has been an incident in the city, with our resources,” he sighed. “The royal family still has debts to pay and trades to complete.”

The Knight sighed and worry pricked at her chest. “Which countries are asking for their resources?”

“My Lady,” he said cautiously. “They’re more so demanding than asking; and they’re asking for double of our weapons and oil now that it has been 7 days since the demand was received..”

(Y/N) looked directly at him with a firm expression, but he knew she was scared. “And if we don’t provide them?”

“Tashbaan will wage war on us.”


As (Y/N) sat in the library, her candle flickering in the cold, she could not say that she wasn’t intending to stay here for the rest of the night.

She had rushed to Peter after the meeting with Yaro, he kindly rejected her offer to stay here the night and rest, her worries increasing more than ever before.

She had refused to cry after the three siblings had embraced her and told her they’d do everything they could to help the country. Of course she felt comforted, but not as much to stop the feelings of her wanting to leave. Tashbaan was a great city of a great country; there was no doubt that if they waged war on Doorn, they would prevail.

(Y/N) shivered in her nightgown, she expected the warm night to be spread throughout the castle, but the library was always a cold place.

She yawned as she picked up one of the several claims Tashbaan had sent to her parents about weapons. Usually, (Y/N) was always the one sorting out letters of business when she was at home. Her parents were far to proud to think they needed to answer any letters except ones from Cair Paravel or Narnia; which always made (Y/N) laugh.

In the letter, Tashbaan demanded for the amount of swords made in two years, which was around 80,000, and 90 barrels of oil. That was far more than any country had ever asked from them, and the city wants the provisions given to them in 8 months.

(Y/N) sighed and placed her head in her hands, brushing her hair back with cold fingers. Then there was an abrupt sound of the wind, swinging the window open and blowing half of the letters on the desk away. The candle was now a stub and (Y/N) had no other way to light it. She rushed to the window and slammed it shut, not giving half a damn that people were sleeping only a couple of flights of stairs up.

The room was bathed in the light of the half moon and the night seemed peaceful and wonderful as she gazed out the window. She didn’t want to leave.

“(Y/N)?” A voice said, making her jump and grab the dagger strapped to her calf.

She turned quickly and saw the face of Edmund in the light of a candle. He looked tired and worried and handsome all at the same time.

“What are you doing here?” He asked quietly, softly.

“I could ask you the same thing.” She replied, sheathing her dagger.

She noticed sweat marks on the front of his shirt as he moved closer towards her. He took a hand and placed it on her shoulder, sending a feeling of warmth through her body. She studied him, his eyes were golden in the candlelight and his freckles were coloured gold, giving her heart a strange tugging feeling.

“What’s the matter?” He asked genuinely, removing his hand from her with his eyebrows furrowed.

“You heard, didn’t you?” (Y/N) stated, making her way to the floor to pick up the letters that were blown away. “My country is in trouble.”

“It was mentioned at the meeting earlier, but there were no details. How bad is it?”

She stopped with her hands clamped around the edge of the desk. Taking a seat, she handed over the letter she was just reading to the king.

“Aslan…” he whispered. “This isn’t enough time.”

“Oh really? I had no clue.” She added angrily. “My sister and my brother’s weddings are cancelled; they were too stupid to read the letters they had tucked away for the past three months. I told them, persisted them, to keep record of our trading system as soon as I left. And look what happens.”

Edmund placed the candle where the other once was, and leaned over (Y/N) to get a further look at the letters before her.

“I never should’ve left,” the swordswoman said sincerely.

She felt King Edmund kneel onto the floor and take a letter she was about to crumble from her hand.

His warm hand held her small, tight fist softly, in an attempt to calm her. Surely, she loosed her hand and he let his fall away; the sense of warmth leaving her.

“We can fix this,” he said quietly, his voice soothing her. “You don’t need to leave.”

(Y/N) turned her head and their eyes met; he seemed worried for her.

“Edmund, we can barely provide the resources for a year, let alone two. There is no possible way for us to go around this without a war taking place.”

He averted his eyes to the candle he had brought, and stared thoughtfully. (Y/N) didn’t want to leave Cair Paravel, it was like her second home. She would miss the people and the Pevensie siblings of course. But, somewhere in her heart, she knew she didn’t want to leave Edmund; no matter what stupid arguments they had.

“We could provide you with some of the resources we’re about to get.”

(Y/N) stopped her thoughts and frowned, “What?”

The King sighed, “We have extra provisions of oil and iron. We can offer you a third of them; if you would let us.“

The young woman frowned, her pride getting the best of her. “If it’s for pity, I don’t want anything from you.”

Edmund furrowed his eyebrows, his lips drew into a thin line and his eyes darkened despite the warm glow of the candle. “What?”

She stood abruptly and began to collect the letters, her hands working quickly in order to get out of the library. She didn’t know what came over her, but she didn’t want her country to be saved because of pity.

“(Y/N) stop.” Edmund stated, but she continued to shuffle around the letters into a pile.

”(Y/N),“ he repeated, and as she turned to leave, he caught her gently by her elbow.

They locked eyes, worry clear in their expressions.

“I need to be with my family.”

“You need support.” He stated. “I’m offering you help because Doorn my ally and you’re-”

“Please don’t say friend.” She said just as worriedly.

Edmund chuckled, his smile making (Y/N) laugh a bit. “You don’t want to put the weight onto your family when we’re here to help.”

(Y/N) didn’t nod, nor reply, she just sighed and moved Edmund’s hand away from her elbow.

“I don’t know what I should do,” she muttered, almost to herself, but he still heard.

“Use our provisions, stay for the meeting we have and then you could go back and see your family. As long as you know that they’re safe that’s all that matters, right?”

(Y/N) sighed. “I don’t want to take advice from you, but that makes sense. Unfortunately.”

“Hey,” he said. “As long as you’re here, we could still argue.”

She smiled. “That’s true.”

The moment of silence that followed made (Y/N) think of how hungry she was. “I want to eat something.”

Edmund raised his eyebrows. “Do I look like a cook?”

Rolling her eyes, she took the candle from the desk she was using and exited the library, making her way towards the kitchens.

She heard the king’s sigh, but not long after did he follow her out and they spent most of their night talking about training and how nice the potatoes were.



“The Rook can’t move diagonally, (Y/N).”

“It just did.”

The King sat with his head in his hands, frustrated at (Y/N) for the fourth time today; and she knew it.

She rolled her eyes. “Why are you teaching me this anyway?”

“Because I have nobody to compete against since all of my siblings are busy.” He stated.

“Why aren’t you busy?” (Y/N) inquired.

“Well, you’re a handful, so yes.”

She was close to throwing the pawn she had taken from him while playing before Susan had knocked on the door. She appeared in Edmund’s room with a tired expression on her face, waving a hand lazily to say hello before collapsing into a nearby armchair.

“Hello to you too,” Edmund scoffed. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

His sister almost shuddered at the word. “Sleep is a waste of time when you’ve got a large feast to plan.”

“A feast?” (Y/N) stated hopefully as her ears perked up.

“It’s for the guests we have in Cair Paravel at the moment. You’ve seen a couple of lords and knights, haven’t you?”

The swords woman laughed. “Oh please, like I have enough time for that?“

“Just stop training with this idiot and help me organise this feast.”

“Hey!” Edmund exclaimed, examining the chess board, repositioning some of the pieces (Y/N) had placed wrong.

Susan rolled her crystal eyes and stood from the comfortable chair. “The feast is tomorrow, I suppose you have something to wear…” Her voice sounded far too hopeful.

“Fortunately, no,” (Y/N) replied, her eyes focusing on the way Edmund moved around the pieces on the chess board. “I could sleep instead.”

“I agree.” Edmund piped up.

Susan sucked in a breath and stared, “Both of you will be attending this feast and you have no choice. Edmund.” She finally said, catching the attention of The King.

His brown eyes were quite large and his eyebrows were raised, “What?”

“A specific someone will be attending…” she said half teasingly, half annoyed.

A groan escaped Edmund’s lips as (Y/N) frowned. “Who?” She inquired.

Susan smirked and exited the room, shutting the door softly behind her. (Y/N) turned her attention to Edmund, who was lying down on his bed with his hands covering his face, and asked him, “Who is she talking about?”

Edmund used his elbows to sit up and (Y/N)’s eyes peeked at the line of skin exposed at his stomach. She noticed, almost every couple of lessons, that Edmund was strong, but also quick and agile. A great combination for a fighter, in her eyes.

“A princess,” He replied, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Of Archenland.”

(Y/N)’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, Aslan…” a laugh escaped her lips, and not long after did her fit of laughter continue; making it harder and harder to breathe.

Through her laughs, she could only form a sentence, “Your sister’s setting you up!”

Edmund sat with a smile on his face and a hand covering his eyes. “Shut up.” (Y/N) felt tears in her eyes and her stomach was cramping severely.

She put on a serious face in a matter of seconds and began to fan herself. “Oh, your Highness!” she began, mocking the supposed princess with a pitchy voice. “I am desperate for your hand, please let me be your queen!”

“Shut up,” he laughed quietly, sitting up more. “She doesn’t sound like that.”

“What does she sound like?” (Y/N) laughed.

“She sounds nice,” he said with his eyebrows raised. “Doesn’t need your mockery that’s for sure.”

“Of course she does,” (Y/N) stated. “Everyone needs my mockery.”

Edmund leaned closer to her. “You mock me enough for everyone else.”

(Y/N)’s smile turned mischievous. “Well of course.”

He placed the chess board away from between them and sat there, his body was close enough so they could touch knees. “And if I didn’t like it?”

“But you do,” she replied, feeling herself leaning closer. His smirk was something that made her heart beat furiously.

“Well,” he said, pausing slightly. “I guess we’re going to have to change that.”

They were close enough to almost touch noses, but they didn’t. She glanced at his lips once, then focused back on his darkened eyes.

Before she could get a chance to whisper something sarcastic, Edmund grabbed her waist and lay her down onto the mattress quickly; his hands pinning her forearms at her sides.

His breath smelt like sweet chocolate, (Y/N) noticed, before she said, “You can’t beat me at my own game. I win every single time.”

“Well then show me how you do it,” he teased back, his lips hovering a couple of inches from hers.

(Y/N) smirked, noticing he didn’t trap her legs with his; rookie mistake. Quicker than Edmund had anticipated, she wrapped her legs around his torso and used the weight of her body to flip them over, a small grunt escaping her lips.

His wrists were trapped under her hands, and her knees were still on either side of him. No matter how many times they had done this game at training, she always won.

His hair was somewhat disheveled and his teeth were shining through his smile. “I have a new move.”

“Mhm, and that is?”

He attempted to sit up, but his head flopped back down onto the mattress when he noticed his hands were trapped, making the young woman laugh. “Can you let go of me? I just want to show you.”

His voice was lower now, more mysterious, and in the back of her mind the thought of wanting to kiss him was too much; but she put that aside. Reluctantly, she let go of his wrists.

She expected him to move quickly, knocking her off him with his hands or something. But he sat up slowly instead, using his hands to take her waist. She felt her heart beating so fast, it might have exploded.

“Wrap your legs around me again,” he said softly, his fingers digging lightly in her waist through her tunic.

Her heart thumped loudly and she knew that he could hear it, because she could hear his. She, to Edmund’s surprise, did what he asked and wrapped her legs around his torso and he moved her closer into his lap.

If (Y/N) was being honest, she wouldn’t let anyone hold her like this, let anyone see her like this; but with Edmund, she could do this all day.

The heavy breathing of both the knights mixed with each other, and before (Y/N) could lean in, Edmund snapped her fingers in front of her face. “(Y/N).”

She snapped out of her thoughts and returned to him. The chess board was still between them and she was still sitting across of him. “Sorry I got distracted.”

He didn’t smile but he looked amused. “Distracted with what?”

(Y/N)’s face suddenly contorted with anger. “It’s none of your business that’s what.”

The King’s face fell. “Did I do something wrong?”

“I don’t care about who is betrothed to you for Aslan’s sake!”

“What? (Y/N)-” Edmund began before she stood abruptly and fixed her breeches. “Where are you going?”

“Helping Susan. Don’t think I’ll be at training tomorrow, because I won’t.”

Edmund stood and approached her as she opened the door. “What’s wrong, (Y/N)? If it’s about your family, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

She scoffed. “I don’t need a pitiful reason to be angry.” She turned the handle of the door and as she exited, banged it shut.

Before she continued down the hallway, she paused at the wall outside of his door and thought, ‘Why am I angry?’. She knew it wasn’t the fact that there was a princess coming to see him, and it wasn’t his constant, annoying reassurance that her family would be okay. No, it wasn’t any of that.

She sighed and rested her head on the wall, trying to calm her beating heart. “What is it?” She whispered to herself.

And it was long before she realised, as she approached her bedroom chambers, that the reason why she was angry wasn’t any of those things; it was because her daydream wasn’t real.



Suppose you were the father of twelve sons, and you really wanted a daughter. How should you honor the daughter’s birth and spoil her? Well, the obvious choice would be to commission twelve caskets to be built and ready so that you can kill all twelve of your sons, making way for your daughter to be the heir of everything. Seriously. I’m only nine tales in at this point and its almost as if the Grimms are writing The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Being a Terrible Parent. At least it ends with a creative punishment for one of the evil parents in the story: “The wicked stepmother was taken before the judge, and put into a barrel filled with boiling oil and venomous snakes, and died an evil death.”


This tale is basically the equivalent of The Hangover with farm animals. A cock and a hen eat too many nuts, decide to build a carriage out of the nutshells, beat up a duck together and force him to pull the carriage, pick up a pin and a needle as hitchhikers, beg an innkeeper to let them stay for the night, eat his eggs, hide the needle in his chair cushion and the pin in his hand towel, and then hightail it without paying a dime. All we’re missing here is someone stealing Mike Tyson’s tiger.


What is it with Kings or princes insisting on marrying these women they find in weird situations? Listen up royals, there’s a few things to consider: One, consent. Duh. Second, you don’t know this girl and she sure doesn’t know you. At least take her on a date so you can see if the two of you have chemistry, you know? Third, especially in fairy tale land, you don’t know what kind of magical madness is going on in this woman’s life. For instance, she could have a brother that’s been turned into a deer by a literal babbling brook, and/or she might get suffocated and replaced by her evil witch stepmother before being unceremoniously resurrected. Look before you leap, bro.


So there’s more than a few things here that differ from the classic TV and movie representations of Rapunzel, but there’s a particular detail of this tale that struck me: Did you know that the name Rapunzel comes from Campanula rapunculus, which is a type of leafy plant you can eat? Why is that important, you ask? Well, it was Rapunzel’s mother’s desire to eat some of this plant from an enchantress’s garden. Mom sends her husband to steal it, he gets caught in the act, and the parents’ price for the dinner is to give the enchantress their first born daughter to raise as her own. That’s right folks: Rapunzel’s mom sold her out for a salad. A SALAD.

Originally posted by dailyrapunzel