Saint Edmund, the Saxon king, may be buried under town's tennis courts, experts believe

Experts are set to start digging for another missing English king.

After Richard III was found buried under a car park in Leicester, details have emerged of other unusual possible resting places famous monarchs.

Now, Bury St Edmunds believes it may have the remains of Saint Edmund, a Saxon monarch, buried beneath one of its tennis courts.

St Edmund was a Saxon king who ruled in the ninth century. As a saint, his remains were kept in a shrine in Bury St Edmunds.

At the time of the desecration of the Benedictine Abbey, during Henry VIII’s reign, the remains were lost.

But historians believe the remains may well be below the tennis courts in Abbey Gardens, which sit on top of a former monks’ graveyard in the sedate East Anglian town. Read more.

- haunted by the ghost of you

request: could you write one where the reader is a Blossom and they get torn apart because of wat happened in episode 12? 

a/n: so it just so happened that I was listening to The Night We Met by Lord Huron while I opened this ask and BAM instant idea popped into my head! Also last nights episode really hit me, so this WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS.  

It’s odd being in a place that is so familiar yet so detached at the same time. It feels almost like you are disembodied from something once so stable and often encountered. The setting remains the same but the people and the stories are woven with new threads while barely clinging to the old. 

It felt strange to be in Riverdale after so many years. 

To many passers by the sudden reappearance of the youngest Blossom child seemed highly alarming and unnerving. It felt almost as if time had slipped away and reversed to the past, a past where her image along with her twin siblings seemed permanent. She had seemed like a character in a novel that had been abandoned halfway through; only to be picked up again weeks later. Frozen in a state of unknowing by so many and now was back animate and lively, as if she had never disappeared from Riverdale so many years before. 

She was however, alone, and no other Blossom was staying within the confines of the town her family had once dominated. She tried to keep her head down as she made her way through the quiet suburban area in case anyone decided to stop her and ask how she was doing after all these years. Her efforts to go unnoticed however were in vain. The red sweeping curls that were so like Cheryl’s gave her away, the Blossom trademark too bold to hide. 

People stared as she made her way by. People like Fred Andrews who was out walking his dog that seemed ancient by now, it was odd for him to stare since he’d known she was coming. Maybe he wasn’t expecting her so soon. 

A small house, that had resided down the lane from the Andrews and the Coopers, lived in for years by an elderly couple, was now her end goal on her long walk. Nostalgia washed over her like a heat wave as she passed by Betty’s house, remembering all the late night sleepovers they used to have. 

The house sprung up in her vision as she rounded the corner, hidden behind a cherry blossom and a white picket fence. The house itself was the same color as the tree, just as ethereal and pleasant. The garden was trim and unblemished and the white shutters on the houses windows gleamed in the sunshine. In more ways than one y/n guessed that it was perfect for the couple who lived there now. 

She stood by the gate for a while, a smile playing on her lips and her heart thumping in her chest as she thought of finally seeing the people behind those doors in person, after so long. The excited tremors deep inside made her swiftly push open the gate. But before she could get halfway up the small walkway; the front door had been swung open and there stood the widest eyed and most wholesome blonde she’d ever encountered. 



The former River Vixens threw their arms around each other and embraced like personal space did not exist. Lungs and ribs were crushed but neither girl cared at all. They stood there in each others arms for what felt like hours. 

“Is that y/n I hear?” came the undeniable voice of Archie Andrews. Betty let her go as Archie came running down the porch, a goofy smile on his face and his arms open wide. 

It was hard, even after all these years how much he reminded her of the brother she lost. Of Jason. Same red hair, same wide smiles and love for football. Her throat tightened but she let him take her into a hug all the same. 

“Hey Archie!” y/n hugged back, squeezing him so tight that she was sure he’d be bruised. 

“I think I’m going to cry” Betty laughed while wiping tears from her eyes, those wide glistening spheres still staring into the Blossom girls face. She took Betty’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Archie comically rolled his eyes. 

“How long has it been since you’ve last seen each other?” he asked with an eyebrow raise, the scar in the middle of his brow deepening even more. 

“Eleven months, and it’s been two days since our last Skype call” y/n told him, grinning as Betty hugged her tightly again. 

It was true that the youngest Blossom had tried to avoid all things associated with Riverdale for a long time, but Betty Cooper hadn’t been so easy to forget about. She’d often visited New York, once spending a Christmas there while both women had been single and alone for the holidays. 

Her mother and Cheryl had almost left too easily. Maybe it was because Jason’s killer had been someone who they had loved and trusted. Someone who they thought they could be safe around. Being in this town and seeing how people looked at them afterwards had almost driven the Blossoms to madness, and had caused Penelope and her daughters to flee without a word. 

The blossom tree seemed to whisper to her as it blew in the breeze; calling her name like it haunted her. It was like those whispers spoke her secrets, those dark secrets shrouded in pain that she had buried within. This town was awakening the past, and she didn’t like it. Betty ushered her inside with the promise of tea, and they made their way towards the house; leaving the ghosts to linger. 

“Betty!” y/n gasped, one hand holding a warm mug of tea while the other now moved forward to caress the white billowing fabric of the dress Betty held up “it’s gorgeous. You’re going to be the most beautiful bride” 

Betty flushed a lovely pink, her light eyes sparkling in a way that made y/n believe that Archie probably hadn’t been able to wait until he proposed to her. It had been quick, but right and fitting and everyone knew Archie and Betty were meant to be together. Nothing but their wedding could have drawn a Blossom back to Riverdale. 

“Wait until you see the dress I got for you” the blonde bride to be walked back towards the closet of her and Archie’s shared bedroom with a smile “if it doesn’t fit we can do a few alterations but” she added with a flourish as she pulled a gathering of fabric in her arms “I think it will be perfect” 

It hung from the hanger like a graceful waterfall of soft chiffon, the color pretty and perfect for Betty’s spring theme. Y/n smiled wide, placing her mug on Betty’s dresser and walking towards her beaming best friend. 

“It’s blossom pink, of course. I thought it’d be perfect for my maid of honor” she said “and we’ll be carrying cherry blossoms in our bouquets, because despite what happened in the past…I want to acknowledge my Blossom heritage” 

“Oh Betty….” y/n sighed, putting her arms around her and giving her a soft squeeze “I think that’s a wonderful idea, what happened in the past needs to be healed. We can do that”

“So you like the dress?” Betty smiled a watery smile, tears brimming in her big eyes. 

“I love the dress!” y/n exclaimed “I just can’t wait to see my best friend married” 

“I still can’t believe it either, I mean I’m getting married in two days!” she squealed excitedly. 

“How did your mom and dad take it when you told them?” y/n asked, hanging the blossom pink dress back in the closet with a fond last look. 

“Gave me the whole speech about us being too young. How a couple of twenty two year olds weren’t responsible enough to get married” Betty rolled her eyes as she sat herself on the end of her bed “but Archie and I have gone through a lot in the past, and we really are in love y/n. So why wait?” 

The red head took up her mug again, her hands clasping around the fading heated porcelain and took a deep breath at the words in love. She hadn’t thought about being in love in a long time. Once, long ago, this town had held the promise of a forever. A type of forever that her friend now had instead. 

“Speaking of the past…..” Betty eluded, patting the bed beside her “we need to talk about yours. Specifically yours and Jugs” 

Betty….” y/n warned, her tone trying its best to come across as stern but it wavered in the middle. She held eye contact with her as she walked across the room and sat herself on the blue covers of the bed. 

“I’m serious y/n, Jughead will be at our wedding. I just want to know that you’ll be okay being around him after all this time”  

“I didn’t really think about him being there” that was a lie, and it sounded like one the minute it left her mouth. Betty didn’t seem convinced, she raised an eyebrow so high it created a crease in her forehead. 

“He’s basically like the only brother Archie will ever have. Did you think he wouldn’t be invited? He’s the best man, and you’re the maid of honor” Betty told her “how do you feel about that?” 

“I don’t want to see him, Betty” y/n sighed “I don’t want to have to face him after what I done, after how my family tore us apart. I can’t look into his eyes and fall in love all over again and know that all he sees is hate. He must hate me Betty” 

“He doesn’t talk about it. Ever. Not even with Archie, not after these five years. But I can tell that he doesn’t hate you. I don’t think he could ever hate you” her eyes held sincerity but doubt clouded y/ns mind. She was a Blossom; hating her and anything to do with her family was almost an automatic response among the locals of Riverdale. 

“It haunts me everyday what happened, and I’ve left a lot of things behind me that I wish I hadn’t and it hurts. I left my brother behind in the ground, I never got to see my father being buried even though he was a murderer. This place, this town has haunted my every move for five years, but nothing hurts me more than what happened with me and Jughead” y/n felt the tears pricking her eyes, but she held them back. 

Betty sat beside her, a hand clasped warmly over hers as the two girls sat and remembered what happened five years earlier. 

Drowning was pleasant. It was sweet to lie below the water as the waves crashed above. Watching destruction unfold while numbness took over was peaceful in a painful way. 

Cheryl hadn’t stopped crying, her small frame shaking as the tears flowed from her big brown eyes. She was curled up on the uncomfortable bench in the police station, one of y/ns arms wrapped around her. She just lay like a child against her sister, both of them wrapped up together; all pale limbs, crying eyes and red hair. 

While Cheryl was all emotion, y/n felt nothing but an aching hole inside her that was bottomless. The arms that were around her sister didn’t even try to comfort, they just lay there like dead weights. But somehow Cheryl felt safe where she was because she had stayed like that for the past day. 

Their brother was dead, murdered by their own father and now that father was dead too. His life had been taken by his own hand because of guilt and the fact that he knew he had been caught, by a bunch of sleuthing teenagers. Now their mother was being detained and questioned in association, even though the Blossom girls knew she had nothing to do with it. The pain in her face when she had been told it was Clifford was too genuine to stage. She too, was dead inside. 

The one person who wouldn’t leave y/ns head was Jughead. She hadn’t spoken to him properly since the dance, when he had thought that she had known that Archie, Betty and Veronica were going to break into his fathers trailer. They had fought before but this time was different. FP had been arrested and accused of her brothers murder, even though he clearly hadn’t done it. He was now locked in a cell in this very jail. 

“When do you think mommy can be let go?” Cheryl asked in her soft voice, her eyes leaking uncontrollably with mascara infused tears. 

“I don’t know Cheryl, another few hours maybe” y/n sighed, her voice hollow and empty. 

“Then we can leave?” her sister asked her. Y/n looked down at her, into her brown eyes and thought about the pain that was going to be felt when she spoke her next words. 

“Then we can leave. Forever” somehow, it didn’t hurt at all. 

Right this moment; housekeepers at Thornhill were packing everything the remaining Blossoms owned. They would soon be gone, and so would the image of this place. This cursed town. 

“I’m sorry…..for slapping Jughead” Cheryl almost whispered “I shouldn’t have done that” 

“It’s okay Cheryl. you were upset and didn’t know that it was…..” 

“Our father who really killed Jason?” Cheryl finished when y/n couldn’t. 

“Jesus we’re so messed up, aren’t we?” y/n ran a shaking hand through her long red hair, the very thing that reminded her of exactly who she was “the sooner we leave this place the better” 

Anything Cheryl was about to say was cut short by the interrogation room door opening, and the bustling click of heels as Penelope Blossom was ushered out of the room. The girls snapped their heads up to see their mom being lead out by Sheriff Keller. She wasn’t in handcuffs. 

“Mom!” y/n exclaimed, jumping up from her seat on the bench. Her limbs and joints ached from being in the same position for so long. 

“Girls, we’re leaving. Now” she said, taking y/ns hand and pulling her towards the door. Sheriff Keller stood by watching the exchange with a sorrowful look, not one of a man who expected Mrs Blossom of murdering her own son. 

“Where are we going?” Cheryl asked breathlessly, desperately trying to clutch y/ns hand as they were pulled out of the police station. 

“New York” their mother told them “to our winter condo, just for a short time while this all blows over” 

“Blows over? This will never blow over mom” Cheryl said breathlessly as they stepped outside into the night. A car was already waiting for them, its headlights like the bright glow of an interrogation lamp. Y/n shut her eyes at the thought. 

“Then we don’t come back, we leave this place behind us, and everyone in it” 

She swung open the doors of the car- the Blossom chauffeur sitting behind the wheel- and gave the girls a desperate look. Something inside the youngest Blossom churned at the reality of her situation. 

Her father was really dead. He really had killed Jason. And she would really be leaving behind the love of her life; Jughead. 

All of a sudden she didn’t feel numb anymore, but felt everything all at once. 

“Y/N!” a shout rang out through the parking lot. It made all three Blossom women snap their heads around, but y/n already knew who it was. 

Jughead was sprinting through the parking lot, a frantic look on his face as he was followed close behind by Betty, Veronica and Archie. 

“Say your goodbyes, but make it quick” her mother warned her with a stern look, then taking Cheryl’s arm and pulling her into the car. 

“Y/n!” Jughead said again as he got closer, his breath rapid and harsh. He had clearly ran all the way here. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face the fact she was doing this. 

His hands grabbed her arms, shaking her a little so she would look at him. She regretted when she did, he was so pale and his eyes were red. His face was full of pain, most of it caused by her family. 

“You can’t be doing this” he said to her, his eyes searching her face and his hands tightening their hold on her arms “you’re not seriously leaving” 

“I’m sorry, Juggie” she whispered, watching as his face contorted like someone had just ripped his heart out. 

“No…..you’re not. You’re not leaving, I won’t let you leave!” he said frantically, tears welling in his eyes and threatening to spill over. 

“It’s for the best” y/n told him, her eyes looking towards her friends that stood in the background. Archie was practically squeezing Betty’s hand to death for comfort while she leaned on him for support. Veronica watched on with crying eyes. 

For the best?” Jughead repeated, dropping his hands from her body “you think running away from your problems is for the best!” 

“I’m the one running away? That’s what you’re good at Juggie! You always run away from your problems, now I’m the one doing it for a change” y/n told him, furiously wiping a tear away. 

“But I always run away to you” his voice was a whisper, his beautiful face a canvas of torture “I want you to be with me now, we need one another” 

“My father murdered my brother!” she shouted, hating how he winced when she did “my own brother Jughead, do you think I want to stay here and face that everyday? Do you think I want to be here when -” 

Her sobs were muffled by his chest as he pulled her close, letting her horrific cries soak into his jacket. His arms wrapped around her while his soft lips pressed into her hair. He was holding her tight but he knew she was slipping away. 

“Stay with me” he asked her, words leaving him but wavering in the nights breeze “please don’t go. I have nobody left” 

“I’m a Blossom, Jug. We shouldn’t be together, our families have done horrible things” y/n told him as she lifted her head, blinking at him through her tears. 

“But that doesn’t have to stop us. You don’t have to go” he pleaded, taking her face in his hands. 

“I have to go. Goodbye, Jughead” she whispered with a cry, taking his hands away from her face. He tried to fight with her as much as he could but she managed to get away. 

“No, wait! Please y/n don’t go!” he called after her but she was already running away, just like he said she was doing “I love you!” 

He’d never said those three words before and it almost made her stop, but her steps came faster and her tears fell heavier as she ran towards the car. She flung open the door and clambered inside. Cheryl and her mother watched y/n with raw eyes for a solid moment, and then Penelope spoke the command to make the driver move. 

Her heart was heavy and aching in her chest, and she wished she could have left that behind her as easily as she had left Riverdale. The town she was born and raised in disappeared from view the faster they drove, and with it the ghosts of those left behind. 

In the distance the sun was rising and for now she knew those ghosts would sleep. Until they would be awoken again when darkness fell.


Explore the landscape around Paricutín, Mexico, where in 1943 this volcano emerged from a farmer’s field, grew into a hill, and sent out lava flows that buried the surrounding town, leaving only the church steeple sticking out of the still-smoldering rocks.


The Influencers: Laura Palmer

Laura Palmer: Twin Peaks’ Homecoming Queen and Centerpiece

It all started with a Homecoming Queen. She was dead and wrapped in plastic. The hauntingly beautiful blonde North Pacific teenage dream washed up on shore, nearby the Northern Lodge is what started it all. Laura Palmer was the American Dream the bore the secrets of a hellish life and a gruesome end. And yet, her story doesn’t just yet. Laura Palmer was Town Peaks’ savior. Ripped from the innocents, she dabbled in the darkness of the woods but she never let her conscious be sucked out.

According to her secret diary, young Laura has seen over 40 sexual deviants.From the violent Leo Johnson to the corrupt Ben Horne, the sultriness of the blonde bombshell was too captive to bear. Designed as a Marilyn Monroe mockup, Palmer eerily shares Norma Jean’s descent to death in a manner no other Marilyn biopic could. Her innocence was snuffed from out of her, even before she bled to death.

Ayn Rand once wrote this about Marilyn: “Marilyn Monroe on the screen was an image of pure, innocent, childlike joy in living. She projected the sense of a person born and reared in some radiant utopia untouched by suffering, unable to conceive of ugliness or evil, facing life with the confidence, the benevolence, and the joyous self-flaunting of a child or a kitten who is happy to display its own attractiveness as the best gift it can offer the world, and who expects to be admired for it, not hurt”

That figure that radiated a brim of light and utopia among the proverbial hypocrisies of the town buried in secrets is very much like Laura herself. Her smile and bright eyes were forced to see people and the alters for what they really were. Imagine the world where all your heroism and good deeds have no importance because the pain is just too unreal. You are the captive of your own parent’s sexual deviances. You are the pawn in “The Evil that Men Do.” To live your life as the sexual prey that lingers and consumes your father is morally reprehensible.

When you see Bob inhabit Cooper in the new season, we see a different man, absolutely. But everything Bad Cooper does is in tune with survivalism, with the nature of his job, and with his take on what’s the difference between morally and ethically good and bad. Even the murders are not of significant impertinence because he sees this part of his job. It’s the Hit Man or the Bounty Hunter. You cross the line, you paid with your life. This may be because deep down, the doppelganger is the duality of all the bad that lies inside Cooper. This is a Cooper with a freewill and choice to do unrepentant harm more than the choice to be good. The Bob here seems content to wreak havoc yet humane. This Bob Cooper appears to be lascivious, crude, and detached to the lightness. He operates in the dark where he can trap the creatures of the night. His entourage is these hooligans who look like they should be a part of Deliverance.

Leland Palmer, on the hand, is obtusely repugnant because as mentioned in the original series, his entire conscious was raped and carved out of him. His whole being and sense of right and wrong are influenced by Bob himself who is more the Jiminy Cricket to Leland’s Pinocchio. Yes, it’s horrifying to know that his own innocence was taken from him when he was just a boy but that doesn’t absolve him from the crimes he committed. He is everything described in Soundgarden’s “Black Hole Sun.” Painted smiles hiding a truth only found in nightmares.

As far as we know, this Bad Cooper doesn’t rape because he doesn’t have to. He gets what he wants. That he makes very clear. The doppelganger knows he’s bad but there’s a charm to him because he’s upfront about it. In many ways, there’s no need to go insane because he’s not hiding behind secrets and the dualities that do belong to us. He acknowledges himself for him and he can truly enjoy his essence.

With Leland, there is a sick streak of a shadowed veneer underneath the handsome suburban lawyer father. He is constantly trying to pretend to be normal but he sticks out like a sore thumb. He’s no longer conduit for Bob. He is Bob and Bob is him. That’s why the evil spirit doesn’t want that vessel anymore. He wants someone pure like Laura and Cooper that he can just live without his garmonbozia. Leland was too much of an erratic liability to withstand. He was in complete denial of his willing participation in these crimes. He was a family man. Your lawyer (to a corrupt capitalist with his own shady deals, Ben Horne incidentally is Laura’s pimp), your upright citizen in a quaint little suburban town.

The true story here is of a girl who was saddled with the inescapable evils of the father and chose death over allowing that evil to be fully realized in her flesh. Laura is the victim of the story. This sweet innocence tainted by societal greed and cruelty. But she was a savior as well. A savior who decided to save a town mixed of worthless fools and sweet souls.

The demonic possession is a metaphor for the monster inside of us and some can’t control the evil we do. Is the story of Laura Palmer so incredulous to believe that her grieving father was responsible for the rape, torture, and subsequent death of her. When seeing the world through her eyes, we are at the precipice of what the town really is. A fake town who turned a blind eye to the next generation, allowing them to become pawns for the seeding underbelly that underscores the greed, corruption, and drugs presented to them. It’s an idyllic town full of hypocrites that will never escape their hometown glory nor will they know just how this tragic Homecoming Queen saved them and continues to save them from eternal damnation.

Laura is Buffy the Vampire Slayer without Scooby Gang support system behind her.

Search in Perth for remains of murdered James I - BBC News
A plan to search for the tomb of a Scottish king buried in Perth nearly 600 years ago is unveiled.


Ok so it was suggested that they do this several years back and turned down but now they might and I am so happy. It may be unlikely that they find anything, but I’m so glad they’re trying because this really means a lot as far as Perth’s religious life in the Middle Ages is concerned too (Perth was also the scene of a pretty successful dig in 80s or 90s when they found out a lot about how the mediaeval burgh would have functioned so I’ll keep my fingers crossed).

Perth Charterhouse was the only Carthusian house in Scotland, and was the special project of James I. As well as this, though he spent more time in Edinburgh, he held most of his parliaments in Perth and also tried to move the University of St Andrews there- this has led to a common theory that he may have been thinking of trying to establish Perth, with it’s good position in the heart of Scotland between Highland and Lowland, as a main centre of government. He was also murdered there on the night of 20th February 1437, in the Blackfriars on the edge of town, and buried in the Charterhouse he founded. His queen, Joan Beaufort, would also be buried there in 1445, while nearly a hundred years later, in 1541, Margaret Tudor was also buried in the Charterhouse after her death at Methven. However, the Charterhouse was destroyed during the Reformation, like many of Perth’s other religious foundations.

So essentially, even if they don’t find the king or either of the two queens, they will probably still make some really important discoveries if the project goes ahead and I for one would be popping champagne bottles if it weren’t a weeknight.

The Travelling Booth

“One minute a day
could be reserved for you
To tell your secrets to
Miss You-Don’t-Know-Who!”
From a yellow phone booth
projected the voice,
“Women and grandmothers.
Husbands and boys.”

“A tip in the hat
for a tick of your time.
Pay us in pennies.
Pay us in dimes.
We accept gum wrappers,
tokens, and tickets.
Give us your coins
in exchange for one minute!”

The line up consisted
of fidgety folk
From the corner of
Sheep Street and Rumour Road,
To the White Liebrary
it wrapped around.
The Travelling Booth
Was the talk of the town.

“Have you a moment
Between lunchtime and dinner?
Might you be a secret keeper,
Liar, or sinner?
Let us relieve you
of any hard burdens.
You don’t have to carry them
All by your lonesome.”

One by one, people
Turned over their pockets,
Giving up loose change,
Old lighters, and lockets,
To participate in this
Addictive game
Of unknown confessions
From anonymous names.

After a week, the town
Ran out of claims.
Their minute of whispers
began to shift blame
Into crueler tongues
About other townsfolk.
The people turned over.
They were bitter and broke.

When the people gathered
In the centre of town,
In the early morning,
Do you know what they found?
There were two phone booths
At opposite corners.
In curiosity, slowly
the crowd shuffled forward.

“One minute a day
Could be reserved for you
To tell your secrets to
Miss You-Don’t-Know-Who!
Or instead, if your curious
mind is of interest,
You could make your offer
In exchange for one secret.”

“That’s right! One secret
That we will tell you!
Instead of one minute,
We’ll give you one truth!
We won’t be here long,
What have you to lose
But a moment or two
In the Travelling Booth? ”

Echoed the speakers,
A rooster in the street,
Feeding a daily routine
To the sheep.
Back and forth, the
townsfolk cut lines,
Pick pocketing neighbours
To pay for more time.

Some started wearing
Shades as a disguise.
The truth booth in fact
Was creating more lies,
And every so often
Some poor guy would pay
To hear his own sad secret
Being relayed.

Three long weeks after
The phone booth arrived,
The booming speaker
Announced a surprise,
“In the midnight hours
Instead of midday,
Before we pack up and
Start leaving this place”

“I will tell you my secret
If you tell me yours.
A coin will buy you-
Not one minute, but four!
Miss You-Don’t-Know-Who,
At the end of line,
Will not be available
Tonight until Nine.”

The phone booth locked up,
And the speakers shut down.
The people were buzzing
Around in the town.
But for the first time in weeks,
The town had one day
Without any rumours
Or secrets to make.

One woman piped up,
“This man buried our town.
Together we need to
Rise up from the ground!”
This town excelled in one thing,
That was talking.
By the end of the night,
The whole town was marching.

The town hated each other,
But they were like family,
And they realised they had
A cruel common enemy.
They met at the centre
Of town after dusk.
After the phone booth
Had opened up.

They waited with pitchforks.
They waited with knives.
All night long, but the
booming voice never arrived.
Some people tell tales
Of the whispering town
Because the Travelling Booth
Has never left grounds.

1970's Kid

Born into a small town
buried in the obscurity
of the in between spaces on the map
raised on the last dregs
of the so called American dream
looking up at the falling idols,

Loose on the streets
inside suburban safe zones
transistor radio windows on the world
feeling fear scratching
on the screen door a little more
with each year of growing unease

Spinning circles in tiny towns
that were the only world we knew
knowing nobody else cared about us
invisible unnoticed never mentioned
ghostlands denizens drifting
past shuttered factories on ten speeds

Future so bright and shiny
on television but not out the window
here is home start running now
Learn the school fight song
learn that you have to leave to live
your home is fit only for losers

Sitting outside the party store
watching the cars that never stop
rush to elsewhere on the interstate
Be proud believe be something
somewhere out there down the road
your parents built the country
but they now mean nothing anymore
to the people who mock smugly

We knew what you know now
forty long slow summers ago
when you were still building
the New American Lie
there is no equality no unity
here in the Land of Greed

Game Over:  Would You Like to Play Again

Chapter 1 - Story Teaser

Chat operated so much on instinct that the whole celebration still had set his teeth on edge.  Something felt off, even if Ladybug seemed to be willing to call it an evening. 

It hadn’t stopped him from striking out on patrol again on his own late last evening.  But patrol hadn’t turned up a single sign of a lingering Akuma (and no Ladybug) from the rooftops of town.

Adrien buried his head under the pillow for a few moments, before his cell phone alarm chimed and echoed against the walls of his room. He groaned as he peered out from under the pillow.  Wasn’t he supposed to be able to sleep in a bit today?

He grabbed for his phone.  He squinted at the dimly lit screen, scowling at calendar flashing a reminder for another shoot. He punched his code into his smartphone to review the details.

Blinking, his eyes widened. “What? This is impossible!”

With a sigh, Plagg opened one weary eye in question, lifting his head the barest inch from the pillow. “What is?”

Incredulous, Adrien turned his phone around towards Plagg, tossing it far enough over that his Kwami could see with his own eyes. “It’s Saturday. Again.”

Groundhog’s Day Style AU/Time Loop Shenanigans

Available on Archive of Our Own: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15]

Available on Fanfiction.net

How will you fill your goblet
On the day of liberation? And with what?
Are you prepared, in your joy, to endure
The dark keening you have heard
Where skulls of days glitter
In a bottomless pit?
You will search for a key to fit
Your jammed locks. You will bite
The sidewalks like bread,
Thinking: It used to be better.
And time will gnaw at you like a cricket
Caught in a fist.
Then your memory will resemble
An ancient buried town.
And your estranged eyes will burrow down
Like a mole, a mole…
—  How? by Abraham Sutzkever, Vilna Ghetto, February 14, 1943 (Translated by Chana Bloch)


A top rated, creepy story. 

No author given. 

I’ve always had a terrible fear of being submerged completely in water. Not that I can’t swim or anything. My dad made me learn; he said I almost drowned when I was really young.

I was afraid of it because, for as long as I can remember, whenever I am under water and look up at the surface I see a woman reaching down to me with a warm smile, with glowing golden hair and dark blue eyes. Even if its just in a bathtub. It always happened, it was just normal for me, but i never got used to it.

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“I grew up on a ketchup farm in Mississippi. We would go out all day and dig up bottles of ketchup then sell them by the side of the road for 10 dimes, which most people just call a dollar now. It wasn’t till I was 18 that my pappy told me there’s no such thing as a ketchup farm, he was buying those bottles in town and burying them in the middle of the night just to give us something to do the next day. They cost him two dollars a bottle, so we were losing a solid dollar every bottle, plus the time spent digging them up and him sneaking out every night to bury them. After I found out I moved to New York to become a jazz dancer. I became a hit and danced privately for many well known celebrities and world leaders. I would sometimes dance quietly for Einstein in his study, he said it helped him think. I was dancing softly in the corner when he came up with the E equals Mc Squared stuff.” “You seem quite young to have danced for Einstein” “You’re very kind young man”. @humansofny #hamishsofny

summer rain

Beta’d by @lusterrdust , please check her blog, she’s amazing ❤️

> one

You brought me sunshine when I only saw rain.

You brought me laughter when I only felt pain.


The so-called charismatic, once wholesome town of Riverdale, was taken further into despair after the unexpected happened in the iconic chock'lit shoppe. That morning, many hearts were broken, and many souls destroyed, leaving the entirety of the town buried underneath a new sort of twisted darkness, one differing from the darkness Jason Blossom’s mysterious murder had brought upon town.

That morning, Fred Andrews was shot, and carried with him the last bit of Riverdale’s innocence. Darkness had won, marked by an act of violence that was anything but random.

It’s just a jacket, Betty, it means nothing!“

"Jug, those people are criminals!”

They talked until the early hours of the morning. They did nothing but that — exchanging their fears and their worries.

They talked about what they expected from the other, and tried to come to an agreement. But even whispered promises and stolen kisses weren’t enough for the blonde girl to understand. She left the trailer as hot tears streamed down her cheeks, and ran home where she crumbled down on her bed. She was devastated, and so scared that this was it, this was the end of what they had. That he’d leave down a darker path, and never come back to her.

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My Kind Of Broken (Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better Part 5)

Master List

Part One  Part Two  Part Three  Part Four

Dean X Sam X Reader

Warning: Some Smut

Summary: You and your sister Gwen are hunters on the trail of a ghost in a small town in Nebraska.  You have teamed up with Sam and Dean Winchester, Your sister and Sam have already hooked up. You continue to fight your attraction to Dean.

Around 6 PM, the announcement was made that the library was closing for the night. “So what’s our next move?” You asked.  “I’ll bet in a town this size there is only one cemetery.  Let’s grab a quick dinner and see if we can find out where it is. After dark we can go check it out and see if he is buried there.”

“That sounds like a plan.” Sam said. The four of you piled into the Impala and started in the direction of the hotel.  You saw the sign for a CVS, and asked Dean to make a quick pit stop.

“I have an idea.” You said. “I’ll be right back. You came out a few minutes later with a small bag. “ I have the general directions to the Pine Bluff Cemetery.” You said triumphantly.

“How’d you manage to bring that up in conversation without sounding weird?” Gwen asked.

“I told the cashier we were just passing through, and that Mom had told us we had family buried in the town cemetery.  That we were going to check it out tomorrow but we didn’t know where it is.” You said, proud of your quick thinking.

“Your Mom is still around?” Sam asked.  

“Yep. She thinks we’re missionaries.” You said.

“Damn.” Dean said.  “Beautiful AND smart.” You blushed deeply.

You headed back to the hotel for supplies and a quick strategy session.  “OK guys. According to the GPS on my phone, the cemetery is on the outskirts of town.  Should be secluded if we need to do a quick salt and burn.” Sam said.

“Before we go anywhere, I have something to say….” Three pairs of eyes looked at you expectantly.  “ In order to avoid a repeat of last night, I think that Sam and Gwen should take our room. I will get my own room. That way if you two want to be alone I won’t be locked out and wandering like a homeless person.”

“You don’t have to get your own room, Sweetheart. I promise to be a gentleman and keep my hands to myself. Unless you ask me not to.” Dean said, staring at you in that way that made your stomach quiver. 

“Fine.” You said. Gwen shot Dean a look you couldn’t read. “Listen, while Sam is moving his stuff, why don’t you and Dean go grab us dinner? I’ll move your stuff here.  It’s mostly packed already.”

As Dean pulled out the Impala out of the motel, you sat in relative silence.  “Listen.”   He said finally. “I need to tell you something. Its going to piss you off, but I want there to be a clean slate between us.”

“Um…..OK.” You said, eyebrow raised.  “What did you do now?”

Dean took a deep breath, and spoke in a quick rush. “We didn’t have sex last night.  You had a nightmare, and would only settle down if I laid with you. That’s why we were in bed together. We kissed. I tried for more, but you shot me down. That was it I swear!”

You looked at him, astonished. “You rat bastard! You said we slept together! How could you??”

Dean had the good grace to look embarrassed.  “Actually, all I said was I can’t believe you don’t remember. You assumed we slept together. I just didn’t correct you.”

“Your unbelievable!” You said angrily.

“Look, I’m sorry! At least I’m coming clean now, that must count for something.”

“I suppose.” You said grudgingly.

“If you still want to get your own room, I understand.” He said.

“It’s a huge waste of money none of us have. I’ll stay with you, I guess. But no more whiskey for me.” 

When you returned to the hotel, you were very quiet.  Sam’s stuff was in with Gwen, and your stuff was now in Dean’s room. After you all had eaten, you headed off to the cemetery, making sure you had salt, lighter fluid, shovels, and weapons. 

Dean easily found the cemetery. The four of you fanned out with your flashlights searching the tombstones. It was a pretty large cemetery, and the graves from the time period you needed were way off in the back. You searched them all just in case. You slowly made your way around the graves, shining your light on to check the names. At one point you crossed paths with Gwen.  

“Can you believe Dean was lying about us sleeping together?” You whispered.

“Your kidding!” Gwen said.  Something about her voice rang false.

  You shot her a hard look.  “You already knew, didn’t you?”

Gwen’s shoulders slumped. “He told me and Sam after you went to shower yesterday.” 

“And you never said anything?? What the hell Gwen?”

“Cut the crap Y/N! I didn’t say anything because I can tell that you like Dean. I know when your interested in someone. The guy is crazy hot AND able to tolerate your snarky personality. What’s not to love?”

“Shut UP Gwen!” You hissed. 

 Sam and Dean came up behind you. “Find anything?” Sam asked. 

 “ Nope.” Gwen said. “ He’s definitely not buried here.” The ride back to the motel was quiet. You were lost your own thoughts. After you had stowed the supplies in the trunk, Gwen was already pulling Sam toward their room. You knew how they would be spending their evening. 

 You sat on your bed and watched Dean. “You gonna go to the bar?” You asked.

 “ Nah, I thought I hang here with you if that’s OK.” You shrugged, and both of you took turns in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Dean noticed happily that you wore his shirt to bed again even though you had all your stuff.

You were  checking emails on your phone when Dean’s voice cut through the quiet. “Can I ask you something Y/N?”

“Sure Dean, what?”

“Who is Eric?”

You were quiet for so long Dean thought you weren’t going to answer.  “Eric was my fiancee’. He was a hunter. He was the one who introduced me to the life. I haven’t always hunted with Gwen. Eric and I used to hunt together.”

“What happened to him?” Dean asked.

“He was killed during a werewolf hunt.  We didn’t realize how many there were. I was hurt, but I managed to get away.  Eric got cut off from me, and by the time I got to him, it was too late. After I lost him, Gwen started hunting with me. But Gwen isn’t a lifer, not like us. Eventually she will meet someone, and want to settle down, have babies.  This has always been a temporary thing for her.  I don’t know anything else.”  You couldn’t stop the tears.  

“Please don’t cry, sweetheart.” Dean said in a strangled voice. He moved to sit down next to you.

“After….After Eric, I turned myself off emotionally. If I didn’t care, I couldn’t get hurt. But I’m tired, Dean. Tired of fighting the bad and never having the good. I just want to feel like a normal person again for 5 minutes. Do you know what I mean?”

Dean nodded his head.  Then he started telling you about the year he spent as a “normal person” without Sam.  He told you about living with Lisa and Ben, and having a regular job.  He told you how he couldn’t stay away from hunting, how after demons came after Lisa and Ben, he was forced to walk away from them and never go back.

“I needed to keep them safe.  So I walked away.  I’ve never told anyone about them besides Sam. And I haven’t let myself care since. So why can’t I can’t stop thinking about you?”

You didn’t let yourself think, you just did what felt right. You leaned over and pressed your lips to Deans. He smiled and deepened the kiss, pulling your face to his as your mouths slanted over each other.

“Please don’t tell me to stop Sweetheart…. I can’t.”

“I don’t want you to stop.” You whispered.

Dean reached for you, and began unbuttoning your shirt, sliding it down your shoulders. His tongue traced a warm wet path down your neck to your breast, causing heat to pool between your legs.  You gasped at the sensation.  He took the hard pebble of your nipple into his mouth, sucking deeply. Dean pulled his T shirt over his head, and your hands skimmed over the rigid muscles of his abdomen.  You pressed your hand against his hard bulge, causing Dean to groan “God Y/N!”

You pulled Dean’s pajama bottoms and boxers down, freeing his hard cock. Taking him into your mouth,you licked the length of him from tip to base, pumping him in between licks. Deans hands pressed on your head, pushing you so deep you could feel his cock hitting the back of your throat. He gasped with pleasure as you tongued him. 

You released his cock from your mouth with an audible pop. Dean yanked your panties down harshly. He slid a finger into your soaked folds, and them another, pumping them back and forth.  He took your lips again, his mouth utterly possessing yours.  You felt the pressure building.  You were burning up.  Everything was spinning, and then you shattered into a million pieces. 

Dean glided into you, burying himself to the hilt as you rode out your orgasm.  You wrapped your long legs around him, locking them around his back until you could feel him bottoming out. You bucked against him as he began to thrust into to you, shallowly at first, but quickly picking up the pace.  Before you had totally come down from your first orgasm, he was driving you back up again.  Over and over he plunged into you.  

“Come with me, Y/N!” He demanded.

You screamed his name as you came again, harder this time.  As your walls contracted around him, Dean buried his face in your shoulder as he climaxed with a hard, guttural groan. 

When you both had recovered sufficiently, Dean kissed you gently and pulled the blankets up over both of you.  That night you slept more peacefully than you had in a long time.

 The next morning, there was a knock at the door.  Dean was awake so when he saw it was Gwen he opened the door a crack.  “Y/N is still sleeping.” He said. 

Gwen took one look at him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him out the door. “Listen Winchester.” She said with her arms folded “I don’t know what the hell is going on between you and my sister, but I swear to God if you hurt her, I will kill you, don’t think I won’t!  Y/N has been broken. She doesn’t do things lightly. So take care. I am watching you.”

“Relax Gwen. I won’t hurt your sister. We understand each other, I think. She’s just my kind of broken.” 


listen on 8tracks /// listen on youtube

 Chiodos - Those Who Slay Together, Stay Together here we are, we knew the day would come // those who slay together, stay together in the end  Daughter - Alone/With you  i hate sleeping alone // terrified with the lights out // i hate living alone // talking to myself is boring conversation The Smiths - Reel Around the Fountain  it’s time the tale were told // of how you took a child // and you made him old //  Fifteen minutes with you // well, I wouldn’t say no // oh people said // that you were virtually dead // and they were so wrong Dead Man’s Bones - In The Room Where You Sleep  i saw something sitting on your bed // i saw something touching your head // in the room where you sleep // you better run Daughter - How  moving on // just moving in slow motion // to keep the pain to a minimum // weightless, only wait for a fall Beirut - Elephant Gun  if I was young, I’d flee this town  // i’d bury my dreams underground // as did I, we drink to die, we drink tonight //  Nine Inch Nails - Kinda I Want To  i can’t shake this feeling from my head // there’s a devil sleeping in my bed. // watching you from across the way // i cannot make this feeling go away DeVotchKa - How It Ends  and in your soul // they poked a million holes // but you never let them show Black Lab - Can’t Keep The Rain  I set fire to the car tonight // to keep from running away // i needed something loud and bright // to keep the memory at bay

so i was talking with @plagalkey and decided to upload this playlist on 8tracks bc its my ultimate andreil playlist. thanks to @ilgaksu for introducing me to Daughter “@” 

Animal Crossing Theory #1 - Are you dead?

I promised to make a new version of my theories so here I am! Let’s begin!

Animal Crossing is like an afterlife, a heaven. It’s a paradise where you go and stay forever. Where you can finally find your peace. Why?

- You are the only person in this village. All of your friends are animals, it’s kinda impossible, huh?

- Everyone is so polite and likes you. No offesive language, no hate (and let’s just make clear I’m talking about New Leaf, ok?).

- It’s too perfect, just like a dream. You come and receive your dreamy town and you can do whatever you want. What also is a little weird is all these animals doing they job 24/7 for free while you play around

- The most important things are letters from parents. The letters you receive from your mom are like a diary, where she writes everything to you as she can’t deal with the thought of you not being here with her anymore. 

She accuses herself of your death 

and talks with nostalgia about all the stuff you did 

althugh, she slowly realises you will not come back and she has to move forward.

What I would also point out is that she only has memories of you as a child, she never says about you actually moving out, just about the ‘new place’ you are in now. Also, look at this: 

- Another thing are the gyroids. In Japanese version of the game they are called  埴輪 (haniwa) which are actual things in Japanese folklore. 

And they represent, you guessed it, dead people. From 3th to 6th century people made these clay figures and buried with the dead person as other objects. It is a bit interesting why you find these randomly buried in your town… Every single one is different in it’s own way, just like people. Also, there is this quote from Kiki in New Leaf: If you look closely at gyroids, you’ll see how much personality each of them has.

If this isn’t enough evidence to convince you then I don’t know what is.

There is a bit more, but this in my next theory, which will probably show up next weekend :) I’ll try to make this a regular series, but soon I will run out of ideas so if anyone has any clues or just a thing that needs a solution, my ask is open.


Dawn stood at the motel door speechless. Her heart felt as if it had been drowned in tears. Blinking slowly, she reached inside her pocket and pulled out the picture of her and her d-…Dean. She placed the old photo on the doorstep and walked away from the beautiful home she were not welcomed at.

Dawn was alone, walking along the streets of the random town. She buried her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt as she continued walking. She was alone, and she always would be alone. The dark haired girl entered a small coffee shop and sat at a table in the corner. She sat there for a long time, drinking hot chocolate, and thinking things over.

“I’m not your father anymore.” It repeated in her head over and over.

‘All my life…’ she thought, ‘I’ve been waiting for a father who doesn’t even want me.’ Where is home? Where is my family…do I even have a family?

Dawn stared down at her tea, mulling over memories. She had a family, even though it may have been for a short while. However, the man she saw today, was not the man who held her when she was a baby so long ago. Or was he? Maybe he never wanted children then, and she was just a mistake. Was that the reason he went back to hunting?

Tears leaked out of her eyes when she realized she was right. She was a mistake, nothing but a burden on everyone else.

Dawn paid for the hot chocolate with what little money she had, and continued walking down the street, not even caring where you was going.

‘You’re a mistake, you’re alone, and you have no one…’ she told herself as she crossed the street without looking.


Dawn then looked ahead as the car struck her then she could hear someone screaming her name.