A long organized list of all of my love spells by purpose and categories. It should be known the only love magic I practice and write for is consenting love spells between two partners. I do not support forcing another to have feelings for you. My spells are mostly to improve love, self love, and passion between two individuals.
I did a thing. We’ll see if I can do more before ACOWAR comes out. Below is Chapters 1-4 of ACOMAF in Rhys’s POV and above are the links to those same chapters plus the rest on AO3. Hope ya like!
Summary: Roughly Chapters 1-4 of ACOMAF from Rhys’s POV. It’s mostly a focus on the last two weeks before Feyre gets married with summation thrown in on how his time has been since leaving UtM. Includes her nightmare that opens the book and some lovely chatting with Morrigan the day of Feyre’s wedding.
Hello Feyre Darling
The mountains of the Illyrian Steppes wrought a chill through my bones I hadn’t felt in years.
We flew for most of the day, listening to wherever the shadows at my brother’s back directed us, until at last the sun began to set and we landed in a small clearing between the trees.
They were close. Near enough to sent them on the tendrils of wind that carried their blood and sweat through the heavy pine of the woods. Since my return, I’d lost count of the number of rogue Illyrian war bands I’d had to hunt down and confront. And that wasn’t counting the number Cassian and Azriel had taken care of in my absence.
Today’s hunt felt restless. The outcome had been decided the moment we left the Steppes. These primal encounters never changed even if I spent the hours flying faster towards them hoping they would.
A confrontation. An offering of second chances. Bow down and obey - or pay the debt they owed for the blood they’d spilt, the debt for using fifty years of freedom to push the boundaries however they pleased.
The Night Court would need every drop in the coming weeks that it could spare. Petty disagreements over territory, among other things, wasn’t something I could deal with in the middle of a shift that sought to overthrow the entirety of Prythian.
And once Illyrian alliances shifted, they rarely shifted back.
So in blood, they usually ended.
We threaded through the trees, Cassian and Azriel silently stalking several paces out on either side of me until we hit the gap where the band made camp. It was a small legion, perhaps a dozen or so with their chosen lord in the center. An exquisite gash ran down the center of his cheek. No doubt he had been forced to earn his rank, had likely volunteered for the blood bath.
I wondered what they had done with the bodies, if they’d bothered to bury them properly in Illyrian fashion or had left them to rot in the snow.
Their heads turned in our direction as we neared close enough for them to catch our scent, but by then it was already too late. I held their minds steady from the grip of my power long before the three of us cleared the trees lining the perimeter of their camp.
My brothers strode quietly out from the trees, the swords they’d been gifted at the Blood Rite brandished in their hands in an offensive gesture, ready to strike at a moment’s signal from me.
Slowly, I narrowed my eyes on the newly elected lord and approached, tendrils of darkness trailing in my wake, my wings stretched out wide enough at my back to send a jolt of fear down even the toughest Illyrian’s back.
“Do I need to bother asking?”
My voice was flat, hardly even a question as the lord looked me over once and spat directly at my feet. “Whore,” he cursed and internally, I savored the feel of my mental claws dragging through his mind, undoing every last piece of who he was and would ever become before I let his body fall limp and ragged to the snow. I didn’t even wait. Little impulses of pain trembled along his skin and muscles in those last seconds before he gave up and was no more.
All round me, the forest rang silent save for the bitter, cold wind howling my sins in my ears.
Red splattered in harsh contrast against the snow at my feet, large sloppy drops dripping from Truth-Teller’s blade.
Azriel looked stoically at me as if he hadn’t just shed the blood of a half-dozen men he’d once shared camp with. I often wondered how he managed to lock that darkness away so well.
Slowly, he lifted a brow as snow crunched between Cassian’s heavy boots on my other side.
“Rhys?” Cassian said, dragging my attention down to my hands. They were shaking in a near violent manner.
I grabbed both their hands and winnowed on the spot before they could say another word.
I did not join them at the House of Wind that night for dinner.
There was blood everywhere.
All over the three young fae hooded and kneeling on the unforgiving marble floor, the dagger I watched fall clattering to that same ground, and most especially all over her.
Feyre stood reaching with a trembling hand for the second dagger covered in blood. Her clothes were soaked from merely one kill that shouldn’t have garnered that much evidence of her deeds. It carried onto her hands - her poor, stuttering hands that plunged themselves upon the fae woman singing herself into death’s waiting arms.
Amarantha sat poised on the throne calling Feyre on with praise. It felt disgustingly wrong.
Feyre pulled the third dagger and I knew what to expect as the veil was to be lifted on the final victim. Tamlin would be waiting and then our fate would be in the hands of this small human girl none of us knew. I felt like I was going to be sick even as Feyre questioned whether or not she could go through with one more murder - just one more murder, and we would all be free. Such a steep price to pay for her.
The hood lifted. Silence fell.
The blood stood out in stark relief against the resounding quiet of the room.
Feyre knelt before the third victim - before herself, her ears turned up into two stiff points, her skin smooth and blended into a soft perfection only my own breed possessed. And her body, which had become so long and elegant with its new fae gifted powers, sat strongly before her, beseeching her move forward.
And that’s when I knew where I was.
I saw Amarantha up on her throne because I saw her from Feyre’s eyes and not my own place on the dias where I should have been. This was nothing new. We’d been inside this prison countless times before and always we failed to get out alive.
The words chanted inside Feyre’s mind as a flurry of self-loathing and hopelessness I only ever felt inside myself welled up beneath her skin.
She angled the dagger at herself and my lungs screamed inside of me to stop her as I felt her anticipate the relief that blade could give her. No, no, never -
A relief she welcomed, craved even. It was horrifying to watch, to feel.
And it killed me to think she could see herself that way, in any way other than the determined, resourceful woman I’d met Under the Mountain who had saved us all and lost herself in the process.
“Feyre!” I screamed inside her mind, as violently and brutally as I once had to stop Amarantha from attacking her.
But it was too late.
Feyre thrusted the knife into her own chest and I watched as my mate willingly committed suicide before my own eyes. Somehow, it was a thousand times worse than hearing her neck snap against her will.
I was on Youtube and there is this one video called "Top 10 Worse Couples in Anime" and it has Gochi as the thumbnail (didn't watch it since I didn't want to give views). Even worse, since I watch a lot of Dragon Ball videos, I see the link to said video everywhere. Can you write why Goku x Chichi is good to cheer me up?
I haven’t watched the video on youtube yet, but I saw brief post made about it on tumblr and other gochi fans were upset about too…. :(
And sure I can do that for you anon ! 💕 ^_^ ((I’m planning on making a proper tag that way other gochi fans can look at it when they feel sad. Like maybe “Gochi analysis” or “Gochi posts” ? but for now you can look at the regular gochi tag in this blog. And see why other people like this couple and why they are not bad like other people think. ))
List of Why Goku x Chichi is a good couple! :D
((If you’re a Gochi fan and want to express why you love the couple too please tag this blog! :D @57fandom59 💕 ))
1. When they first met they instantly became buddies/friends. They just connected. This is funny to think about because they didn’t even have a rivalry like Goku’s other friends xD The most that ever happened between goku and chichi is that she got mad for 1 second cause of the pat pat he did.
But then you see her quickly giggle it off and instead forms a little girly crush on him. But overall, NO rivalry between them. They got along very well. xD
((Also note how on this one episode Goku offers Chichi an apple (goku only offers you his food when he really likes you as a person) and he spends some time to hang out with her. He feels so relaxed next to her that he even falls asleep. xD ))
2. WHAT EVER CHICHI WANTS HIM TO DO HE DOES IT.Like gaaaaahhh that is so cute!!! >< You see him tell her this as a kid
*boom they get married years later (even though he forgot his promise. BTW I wouldn’t blame him for forgetting cause it’s been years and plus goku had so much stuff happen in his life it is easy to forget. PLUS Chichi looks kind of different from when she was a kid. but regardless of him forgetting he still married her because he remembered the promise he made and that he wants to make her happy. ))
((Also notices how when they do get married, you can see it in his face that he is happy for his decision! xD He is such a goofball I swear/// ))
THEN as an adult he still does what makes her happy;;;; Like JC this boy is too cute to this girl.
For example, in the future Chichi tells him to get his driver’s licences.
So he does. THEN chichi tells him to get a job. He does it. And is a provider for his family now. (he has 2 jobs actually, farmer + Security guard ).
And when she tells him to get the groceries he gets them for her. xD
4. They’re height difference! :’D I know this is not a big deal but to me it’s cute because the boy was so much shorter than her
((few years later. Goku is getting there but is still shorter than chichi haha xD ))
((few more years later Goku is finally taller than her! ! xD ))
Then BAM he just gets so much taller than her that I just asdfasdfasdfasdf *explodes*
He gets so much taller in fact that the poor momma has to go on her tippy toes just to kiss him! xD LIKE that is so friekn cute I swear
5. THEY BOTH CONSISTENTLY THINK ABOUT EACH OTHER
6. They’re ability to compromise and work out their differences! Like for example Goku wants to constantly train but chichi wants him to work. LINKSo they talked it out with each other and now the agreement between them is that Goku gets to go train as long as he puts some hours of work.
7. Chichi is the only character you see where Goku blushes around her or gets those cute anime beauty bubbles when he looks at her! xD LINK
7. Goku LOVES the fact that his wife can kick his butt!/her strong willed personality >:D
Stiles Stilinski is
in third grade when he falls in love with Lydia Martin.
And he knows it’s love, he
really does, because when she briefly meets his eye across the playground one
innocuous Tuesday the world around him blossoms into color.
He sees the shade of her hair
for the first time, not quite red in the way that he’d imagined from his
parent’s descriptions, but definitely red-ish. Maybe it’s closer to orange, or
maybe even blonde, he thinks, but he won’t know for sure until he gets to see
yellow, too, and it’s super rare to get more than one color at once. Red is
enough for now, though.
The new color layers over his
previously grayscale world and Stiles can see Lydia’s red hair, the light pink
blush of her cheeks and the deeper pink of her lips. Stiles looks at Lydia and
sees color, and it is beautiful.
When Lup was young, she liked fairy tales. Taako too, and they agreed that the best ones were the stories that had a clever protagonist who outsmarted the villain through their wits, even though they were smaller or weaker. Those characters reminded her of her and her brother - if the people in the stories could make it, then so could Taako and Lup. When they ran out of stories to tell each other, they made up new ones.
Lup was more interested in the idea of the happy ending part, after everything. When she was little, she’d always thought that the the happily-ever-after part was too final; she wanted to think that there would be more adventures and that the story just didn’t have time to cover a whole lifetime of excitement and clever tricks. And Lup didn’t expect her life to settle into permanent complacency - there was still too much she wanted to do and see - but she thought she understood the appeal in a guaranteed sort of happiness. There was an unwritten contract, in every story, that when the hero won, their happiness is promised. It was an abstract concept, over-simplified and at best unlikely, but she wanted that promise of happiness.
The Hunger was no longer looming, everyone had lived (almost) and everyone was fine (pretty much). Lup had a new body that had been customized to specifications, Magnus, Fisher, and Junior had a full week of bonding time, Lucretia was… sort of working on repairing some serious damage in all of her relationships; it was going to take a while. Davenport was starting to get ahold of the stutter and teaching a few interested bureau employees how to operate the Starblaster. Merle introduced all of them to his kids. Barry smiled like some kind of damn (adorable) fool nearly all the time.
Everything was all set for the happy ending. Almost. Pretty much.
Except for a few loose ends, like the fact that Taako wouldn’t stop looking at her like that.
It was always when he thought she wouldn’t notice (and that was hilarious, that Taako really thought he was sneaky enough to get anything past her), usually from across the room. It was like he was waiting for her to suddenly not be there, or like he was surprised to see her there at all. It was a lost look, and it didn’t look right on Taako, who she’d always known as confident to the point of ridiculousness. Even in his weaker moments, when his confidence was not as certain, he’d never looked at her with doubt.
She really didn’t like that. Lup didn’t like the implication that Taako didn’t trust her to exist.
Summary: The reader is the only one that Dean can share his secrets with.
Warnings: I fell into the angst hole with this one. Sorry.
A Defeated Man
If you knew Dean when he was younger, you wouldn’t recognize the man he is today. I can say that with confidence because I knew him back when. Back when he used to be cocky; cocksure. Full of confidence, full of fight, ready for anything. He was full of life back then. I can’t say that Dean was ever happy, but he had a lust for life. There was zeal in his heart, excitement in his eyes.
Today, he’s a different man, a defeated man. His knuckles are bloody and scraped, his face mottled with a mosaic of bluish purple bruises. He has a mark seared into his skin of his arm that he can’t rid himself of. It’s slowly eating away at every scrap of goodness left in him, the pieces of his humanity that haven’t yet been destroyed. Dean is changing in ways he doesn’t understand. Maybe he doesn’t want to understand. Gone is the man who’d laugh in the face of evil and taunt monsters, here sits a man wearied and worn. He quite literally carries the weight of the world on his shoulders some days, and the bone-crushing heaviness weighs him down, pulling him into a dark abyss of sorrow and sadness. He spends far too much time inside a bottle, the blood on his hands seems as if it will never wash away.
My fingers skim over the nape of his neck, his hair has begun to curl slightly along the hairline. It’s been too long since he’s had it cut, he can’t find the time or the will for the mundane. Involuntarily, he flinches away from my touch, he doesn’t even realize he does it.
I long to take away his pain, to lock it up in my own heart, to carry his burdens, the brokenness of him. I want to stitch his heart back together, gathering the pieces in my hands and tenderly molding them back into something he can recognize, something that will quiet and calm his soul.
I’ve been with Dean for years, in some way or another. We were important to one another, we leaned on one another, from time to time we shared physical comfort. We were never two halves of a whole, never destined to be, not star-crossed lovers. Despite it all, we formed a connection, a bond that linked us. Maybe it was the life, the shared tragedy. Only a hunter can truly understand one of their own.
In the end, I’d become another check mark on his vast and ever growing list of things that cause him pain. It was through no fault of my own or of his. But this is an inherent part of Dean, this is the crux of the man that he is - he takes everything on as his own fault. If only he’d been smarter, faster, stronger. I know he has these thoughts because he’s shared them with me.
He still talks to me about these things. Truthfully, since that fateful day, he’s only become more open and more honest with me. He tells me everything, the darkest things, the things I wish I didn’t know. He has no one else to talk to. The words tumble out in a rush sometimes surprising even him, filling the empty air with his heartache and loss. Sam tries to bring him out of his shell, but he can never speak freely with his brother. There’s too much history there. Dean, forever and always, will seek to protect his brother from the darkest secrets, the ones he harbors deep inside of him. With me, there’s no judgment. Which is part of the reason I can’t bring myself to try and leave.
Even if I could leave, I don’t think I would. He doesn’t even know how much he needs me, the small comfort I can bring him. Sam doesn’t know about this, it’s our secret. Or more like my secret.
For years now, since that day, he’s worn the talisman I crafted for him around his neck on a silver chain. He never takes it off, not even to shower.
If he knew the truth, he’d take it off. He’d burn it in a heartbeat.
He never would have wanted this, and that’s why I can never tell him, never reveal myself.
The talisman is what binds me to him, keeps my spirit here. Even after my body was burned on the pyre and reduced to ash, it keeps me here.
It’s like I said though, even if I could leave, I wouldn’t. I’ll stay by his side until that mark takes away every bit of the man inside, until Dean Winchester no longer exists.
He needs me and I won’t abandon him a second time.
“The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other’s life.” - Richard Bach
A little girl of about four years of age shot out of her chair by the fire, her small embroidery hoop falling to the thick carpet unnoticed as she ran to the big ginger man, her dark curls and ribbons bouncing.
Tormund welcomed her with open arms. “Little Princess Snow! Did you miss me while I was away?”
“She asked after you daily,” Sansa said, rising out of her chair, smiling at the two.
“You missed me, eh?” He swung her up, laughing, and her giggles filled the air as he spun her around the solar, her pale blue skirts whipping about.
“I missed you so much!” Lyarra threw her arms around his neck in a hug.
“That’s a better welcome than I ever get from you, little wolf,” Jon said, as he came into the room, and Lyarra laughed.
“Papa, you’re never gone as long as Nuncle is. You miss Mama too much.” She said it so matter-of-factly that they all laughed.
“You’re a lucky one, to have a father and a mother so tied up together.” Tormund said, poking her freckled nose. “Now show me this new sister of yours, lass.”
As Lyarra led Tormund over to the cradle, Jon crossed over to where his wife stood.
“Are we so tied up together, my lord?” Sansa asked, pulling on the collar of his jerkin and angling her face up for a kiss.
“I would say so, my lady.” His mouth was warm as it lingered on hers.
From the other side of the room Tormund’s voice rang out. “Would you look at that, a ginger!”
summary: your six-year-old daughter has an important question to ask bucky. characters: female reader, bucky barnes, becca (6-year-old OFC), briefly steve rogers and natasha romanoff word count: 2197 warnings: one f bomb A/N: i suck at titles k so this is a little different from my normal thing, but it popped in my head so i decided to write it. i also named the daughter becca, after @beccaanne814-blog because tbh she’s such a great person and writer. she gives encouragement to SO MANY PEOPLE, comments on tons of fics, and then writes amazing ones of her own. so this is my small, insignificant way of letting her know that she is appreciated. <3
The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other’s life. - Richard Bach
It wasn’t until my back slammed into the mat for the fifth time in the past hour that I started thinking I needed to reconsider my hobbies.
Natasha stood over me, strands of red hair hanging down in her face as she stared down at me. She had a satisfied smirk on her face as she offered her hand to help me up. Again.
“You’re out of shape,” she said as I grabbed her hand. She took a couple of steps back, hauling me to my feet.
“Fuck you,” I said, shoving at her shoulder. “I’ve been off duty for four months!”
“Yeah, but you’d think you’d be in a little better shape. You were coaching little league soccer, after all.” She grinned at my scowl, leaning down and grabbing one of the towels we had thrown on the floor. She dried the sweat glistening on her face and neck. “But you went and got soft on me.”