have your muse saying a spell

fic: No Strings

title: no strings.

genre: smut/humour

word count: 3000

description: Phil really misses sex and it turns out that Dan really misses sex, too. So…they just decide to have sex together. No strings. FWB minus the usual dramatic storyline that follows. Hilarity and #bants ensues.

“Just sex?” Phil repeats, “No strings?”

“Yes,” Dan nods, “that’s generally what no strings means,”

“Literally just sex?”

“Fucking hell. Look, Phil, I can spell it out for you or you can put your dick in my ass - it’s totally your choice. Have sex and be satisfied or wank alone to a Muse song again. What’s it gonna be?”

a/n: this is obviously smut but it’s actually funny too i promise, and it’s not like super graphic smut where you’ll cringe or whatever it’s…well, you’ll see. just read it and trust me.

Keep reading

Helen McCrory on Alan Rickman:

“We met in 2008, on the set of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, when Helena [Bonham Carter] and I were playing the Lestrange sisters, and Helena, Alan and I were making a spell “to the death” together.

Though he was brilliant in the part, he wasn’t so method that he swished around in his large black robe in between takes. Instead we’d have a coffee and a giggle – he has a naughty sense of humour – and I’d say, “So, what’s your power again?”“


A new kind of fire

I’m still pretty new to writing fanfiction and OH MY GOD IT’S SO MUCH FUN.

OK so this is one of the Fangirl scenes I was really curious about, decided to add on to it, got a bit carried away and spent my day doing this instead of revising for exams oops.

‘Knowing you, you’ll bring the both of us down just to spite me.’

‘You’re not worth that,’ Simon spat, wishing Baz would focus his energy on pulling them safely from the cliff edge instead of taunting him.

‘Careful, Snow, I’m the only thing between you and a very steep fall.’

He supposed Baz had a point; maybe now wasn’t the best time for insults. Simon’s feet scrabbled against the cliff face, and rocks fell away like breadcrumbs under his sneakers. He gripped Baz’s upper arms like they were his lifeline (actually, they were his lifeline).

‘Stop squirming,’ Baz growled, his face strained. They were nose-to-nose now, and below them was nothing but air and certain death.

‘Crowley, Snow, you’re heavy.’ They moved back an inch. Encouraged, Baz heaved upwards. Simon’s foot hit the cliff at a painful angle, and a large chunk of rock clattered towards the ground. They both paused for a moment, counting the long seconds before they heard the rock smashing far below.

‘Snow, you twat!’ Baz was slipping now; his stomach was almost over the edge of the cliff.

For the first time it occurred to Simon that his roommate’s life was in danger.

‘Baz!’ Simon’s hands slipped; he was now holding onto Baz’s elbows. ‘Baz, I’m gonna fall.’

‘No, you’re not,’ Baz growled.

‘You’re gonna fall, Baz, let go!’

Baz’s left arm slid out of Simon’s grasp. This was it, his last moments on Earth would be spent staring at Baz’s snarling face. Was that going to be his great profound fate?

On love’s light wings!’ Baz’s wand was in his right hand, pointed at the sky. Both boys floated slowly upwards, connected by one hand. Baz wrapped his wand arm around Simon’s waist and they floated to safety, well behind the cliff face.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, Simon stumbled away from Baz. His heart was beating fast and he rounded on Baz.

‘You’re a magician! Of course! How could it possibly take you so long to think of that?’

‘I just saved your life, Snow, you’re welcome,’ Baz shook his head, shoving his wand back in his pocket. ‘Just fucking typical, Snow. I should’ve let you fall.’

‘Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? You finally get your chance, I’m practically dead, and you rush out and save my life? Are you sure you’re okay, Baz?’

Baz sneered and turned away. ‘When you die, Snow, it’ll be an epic defeat, not a fucking accident.’


It had been an unusual day.

Simon had woken up in the early hours of the morning, when it was still dark, and found Baz staring out their window up at the stars. That was weird in itself, but stranger yet was the wistful expression on his moonlit face. Dreamy-eyed was definitely not an expression Simon was used to seeing on his roommate’s face. Then again, it had been dark, and he had been barely awake, so he might have been mistaken. Baz was probably just doing some nighttime plotting.

Still, the image stayed in Simon’s mind through his dreams and he remembered it clearly as anything when he woke up.

After breakfast, Simon had gone back up to their room and found Baz hunched over a piece of paper, scribbling furiously. This was also unusual, as Baz never studied in their room and definitely never wrote down his plotting, at least not anywhere Simon had ever seen him. When Baz looked up and saw Simon standing in the doorway staring, his face went bright red and he immediately lit a flame in his hand and fed the paper to it. It would be an understatement to say that Simon found this extremely suspicious.

(It was also unsettling to see Baz blush so darkly. Simon felt the heat rush to his own cheeks, mirroring him.)

Then Simon watched Baz slip out towards the woods and impulsively decided to resume his fifth-year stalking practices. He walked a good distance behind Baz and treaded as softly as he could. They walked for at least an hour and Simon soon realised that the path they were taking was unfamiliar to him. He’d never been in this part of the woods before; he’d had no reason to wander this far. Baz walked quickly with purpose to his long strides and Simon was sure this wasn’t just a leisurely stroll. Baz was definitely up to something, and Simon was going to find out what it was.

The trees began to thin gradually, until Simon could see the open sky above him, and soon enough he was walking hesitantly among shrubs. If Baz happened to glance behind him, it would be impossible to hide. Simon waited until Baz was just a small figure in the distance before continuing to follow him.

In the blink of an eye, Simon lost sight of his roommate. He stopped, blinked, and searched again, but Baz was nowhere to be seen. His hand hovered by his hip, ready to call up the Sword of Mages at a moment’s notice. Cautiously, Simon moved forward again, his eyes scanning the horizon, looking for any sign of Baz or something more threatening.

He wasn’t sure how long he walked like this for; eventually, his hand fell back to his side and his mind started to wander. For some reason, he was thinking about the time he found Baz in an empty classroom playing the violin. He was thinking about how poised Baz had seemed, but not the sharp kind of control he usually displayed, it was something softer, more peaceful.

That was another strange moment of vulnerability he could add to today’s incidents. Except that in the case of the violin, even Simon couldn’t imagine how Baz could have been plotting. And the music had been so beautiful…

That was when Simon fell over the cliff. One second he was playing back the haunting emotion in Baz’s music and the next, he was stepping out into nothing, stumbling forward and almost toppling over to his death. It was lucky there was a small outcrop in the cliff edge to hang onto, and it was lucky Baz appeared out of nowhere to rush to his rescue, throwing himself onto the ground and grabbing onto Simon just before the rock fell away.


Simon was explaining all of this to Penny (except for the part where he thought Baz’s music was beautiful, because that was embarrassing) as they sat in the dining hall later that day, Simon scarfing down cherry scones while he talked. Penny watched him with her eyebrow raised, considering the information after Simon had finished talking.

On love’s light wings?’ she said finally. ‘That’s the spell Baz used?’

‘Really, Penny? Out of everything I said, and Baz disappearing, and the cliff, that’s the part that catches your atten…’ Simon let his sentence fall away. He hadn’t taken much notice of the spell before, due to the obviously more pressing concern of his imminent loss of life and then Baz’s arm around him, flying him to safety. But now he remembered the conversation he’d had with Penny in their fourth year where he’d complained about the uselessness of up, up, and away if you weren’t in the presence of a friend. Penny had told him about a different spell that could make you fly… that only worked if you were stupidly in love.

Simon stared at Penny, open-mouthed.

‘Baz is in love?’ he said dumbly.

Penny fell back in her chair, laughing.


Baz still wasn’t quite sure why he’d done it. Why he’d led Snow to the cliff once he realised he was being followed, only to turn around and save his life. He wasn’t sure if he’d made himself invisible to make sure Snow would actually walk off the cliff, or if he’d done it so that he could stand right nearby when it happened, ready to hold onto him. He hadn’t thought Snow would be stupid enough to actually fall off. He’d been watching the whole time, of course, and he’d seen the way Snow gradually let his guard down, staring into space, not looking where he was going. And then literally just walking straight off the cliff edge.

Crowley, Snow was more of an idiot than even Baz had realised. He shook his head in disbelief.

And now Snow was back to his old antics, following Baz around everywhere he went, peering at him over the edge of his books, sitting right behind him in class, never letting him out of his sight. Baz should have been used to this; Snow’s paranoia knew no bounds. After all these years, it still set his nerves on edge.

Baz was in class now, and Simon was right behind him, and he could physically feel Snow’s glare boring into the back of his head. He turned around and met Snow’s blue eyes with a cool stare, his lip curling slightly. What was surprising was that Simon’s stare was curious, puzzling, rather than his usual suspicious glare.

‘Baz,’ Snow said, after he’d turned back around.

‘What.’ Baz set his jaw and turned around to glare at Snow again.

‘Um. Just, you know, I didn’t say thanks. For saving my life. So yeah. Thanks.’

Baz rolled his eyes.

‘Anytime, Snow.’

‘… You don’t mean that.’

‘Of course I don’t. Sod off, Snow.’

‘Though it was technically your fault I fell in the first place,’ Simon mused.

‘Not really. You walked right off the cliff, you moron.’

‘True, I guess,’ Simon mumbled, his cheeks going red. Snow blushed so much, it was ridiculous.

Baz couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.

‘So, that spell you used,’ Snow said.

‘What spell?’

On love’s light wings. Apparently, you have to be -’

‘It’s a flight spell,’ Baz snapped. ‘And a difficult one. Too advanced for you, Chosen One.’

He was pretty sure he knew what Snow had been about to bring up. Too bad the boy was stupid enough to walk off a cliff, but apparently too smart not to have realised what Baz’s use of the spell meant. And Baz was never, ever talking about that. Certainly not with him.


But when Snow got an idea into his head, nothing would stop him. Baz found his roommate rummaging in his bags when he walked in the room that afternoon. Snow had never dared before, no matter how tempting it must have been, no matter how clear Baz made it that he was plotting Snow’s demise. He’d also made it very clear that Snow’s demise would be imminent if he so much as breathed near Baz’s belongings, and Snow had every reason to believe him.

And now, apparently, this was important enough to risk Baz’s wrath.

Snow looked guilty at having been caught, but not guilty enough, Baz thought. He cursed the Anathema.


Baz even found Snow talking to Dev and Niall in the hallway. He had cornered them after a class, it seemed, and was digging for information. Baz sent him away with his meanest glare and discovered that Snow had been not-so-subtly prying into his love life.

Curse that stupid spell. He should have let Snow fall rather than use it, and risk giving away the one secret that would be his undoing.

Because if Snow found out, Baz didn’t think he could survive.


‘I’ve tried everything I can think of,’ Simon complained. ‘I can’t figure it out. Dev and Niall were useless, of course. They probably don’t know. And if they did, they obviously wouldn’t tell me. And there was nothing in his bag. And he knows I’m following him so he never does anything to give it away. I think he’s intentionally trying to make me think he’s plotting, but he’s obviously just trying to lead me off the trail. He probably wasn’t even plotting the other day at the cliff. Maybe he was meeting someone.’

‘Simon Snow insisting that Baz isn’t plotting. The world is upside down!’ Penny declared.

They were sitting out by the pitch, Penny jotting down some notes for an assignment, Simon keeping a close eye on Baz. He’d already given up any pretense of having a good reason to be out here. Who cared if Baz knew Simon was watching him? Let him be unnerved, for once. But if Simon was trying to unnerve his roommate, he was definitely failing. Baz was as flawless as always on the pitch, his gaze full of steely determination, never wavering. Never giving anything away.

Simon growled, frustrated.

‘I just want to know who it is! It might be the first time I have a chance at getting the upper hand on Baz, in the eight years we’ve been doing this.’

‘Simon, you’re the Mage’s heir, I’m pretty sure you have the upper hand -’

‘Imagine, Penny, the idea, it’s ludicrous. Baz Pitch, in love! Can you imagine?’ he said, ignoring her.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Si, you’re obsessed.’

They both paused, watching Baz sprint down the field. He was strong, graceful, unstoppable. As if proving the point, Baz scored.

Simon shook his head.

‘Just look at him, Penny. That’s his weakness. His one weakness, the one thing that isn’t cold and hard and unbreakable. I gotta know who it is.’


But how could he ever find out? Baz would never do anything to give it away. Years of trying to unveil his plots made that clear to Simon. Baz would never be caught staring wistfully at some poor unsuspecting girl. Baz would never absentmindedly doodle her name in the margins of his homework. Baz would never give anything away or let his emotions overrule his conscious mind - what about his unconscious mind?

Simon rolled over under the covers and stared at his roommate’s sleeping form. Did vampires dream? What would Baz dream about, if he did? If only there was a spell for that, Simon thought. If only he could get into Baz’s dreams…

Baz being in love went against everything Simon knew about him - he was cold, and evil, and ruthless, and hateful. Simon couldn’t wrap his head around the idea.

Simon felt himself finally drifting off to sleep, thoughts and clues and ideas still fighting each other in his head. Who was it? Who did Baz love? How could he ever figure it out?

‘It’s you.’ It was Baz’s voice, murmuring in the dark.

Simon jolted awake and found himself still facing Baz’s side of the room. His eyes adjusted until he could make out the outline of Baz’s body in the dark, buried under the covers. He stayed perfectly still, listening hard. He was sure Baz had said something…

‘It’s you, Simon,’ Baz whispered, and this time Simon was sure he’d heard right. But minutes passed and Baz remained silent, and soon Simon drifted off to sleep.


Simon sat up and took in the empty room, Baz’s bed neatly made as always. He could hear water running in the bathroom. He yawned widely and stretched his arms over his head, then froze as he remembered last night. Slowly, Simon lowered his arms back to his sides and thought it over carefully.

He’d been tired. He’d been drifting in and out of sleep, and he wasn’t sure which phase he’d been in when Baz had spoken. It didn’t feel like a dream…

‘Good morning, Snow,’ Baz said pointedly. Simon realised he’d been staring as Baz walked out of the bathroom and over to the door.

‘It was until you came in,’ Simon answered automatically, his heart sinking.

Baz had called him Simon, he remembered.

That meant it had definitely been a dream.


Baz breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him.

Thank snakes, he thought. He doesn’t remember.


Simon hated it when he got these dreams. It happened every now and then, especially since he’d figured out that Baz was in love. The subconscious was a strange thing, and he had no control over it. It was random, and it meant nothing, but it was so annoying. He would think about the dream all day and blush every time he saw Baz, cursing his dreams for offering up such weird and repulsive suggestions.

But he could never get it out of his head.

And now he couldn’t convince himself he didn’t wish it was real.

He never could, anymore.


Baz had thought Simon was asleep. Obviously. He never would have said anything otherwise. Simon had been mumbling about Baz being in love. This was clearly the focus of all his recent investigations, and Baz knew he would never be speculating out loud unless he was talking in his sleep. So when Simon asked who he loved, Baz answered him. He just wanted to say it out loud. He just wanted to say it to Simon, just once.

And then he’d said it and Simon had stopped mumbling and Baz wasn’t sure but he thought maybe Simon’s eyes were open and he’d been terrified that Simon was awake and had heard him and now he was done for.

But it was okay. Simon didn’t remember.


Simon stopped following Baz around. He stopped asking questions.

He didn’t want to know anymore. He knew it wasn’t him, it would never be him.

He didn’t want to know who Baz loved.


Baz was feeling hopeful.

And that was treacherous. Hope was a dangerous thing to be feeling.

Simon had stopped following him around. He’d stopped asking questions. He’d stopped accusing him of plotting. He’d stopped throwing insults.

But he hadn’t stopped watching him out of the corner of his eye, and he hadn’t stopped being wary every time Baz was nearby, and, Crowley, he hadn’t stopped blushing.

Baz had to wonder if maybe Simon hadn’t forgotten that night. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

But hope was treacherous.


Simon hated this. He hated feeling this way and he wished he’d never realised the truth of it.

Because Simon was terrible at hiding his emotions, and he knew it, and Baz probably knew it.

And it was foolish, so foolish, to imagine that it could be him. His love’s light wings.


Simon was talking in his sleep again.

Baz had been hoping this would happen. He was already facing his roommate, cursing his loudly beating heart. He didn’t want to miss a word. Just in case…

Simon’s muttering was unintelligible. Every now and then, Baz caught a phrase.

‘I don’t know.’

That wasn’t helpful, that didn’t mean anything.

‘Don’t do that.’

That wasn’t helpful either. For Crowley’s sake, Snow, please say something.


He held his breath.

‘This is stupid.’

Please keep talking, Simon.

‘Penny, I think I love Baz.’


Simon was tired. He’d slept in fits last night and he had an assignment to work on and he still couldn’t get any of his spells right for Miss Possibelf’s class. He didn’t even want to acknowledge the other thing that was draining all his energy.

He was grumpy. And he was hungry, despite the heaping plate of breakfast in front of him. He was glaring at Baz, who sat with his friends a few feet away. He was glaring at Baz because Baz was smiling. Baz wasn’t smirking or sneering at something his friends said, or even smiling his ‘I have an evil plan up my sleeve’ smile, or his ‘Snow just majorly screwed up’ gloating smile. (Simon could tell the difference between all of Baz’s smiles.) He was grinning, a full-on beaming smile, his eyes dancing, and Simon was unnerved to say the least.

He told himself he was unnerved because anything that would make Baz that happy had to be really awful for him. He had a sneaking suspicion that the real reason he was so unnerved was because… well, Baz was beaming and it was like the fucking sun just exploded.


Baz wanted to let Simon stew a little longer. He could see Simon staring at him across the dining hall and it was all he could do not to squirm happily in his chair (that would be extremely mortifying. He would not do that.). He could see everything Simon was thinking; he could see nervous and terrified and all of the same angst Baz had felt over the past years.

And he wanted to do something big, something amazing to wipe it all away.


‘Come with me, Snow,’ Baz said, standing by the door. It was evening and Simon had just stopped in their room to drop off some books. He hadn’t expected to see Baz there (he’d started blushing as soon as he did). He definitely hadn’t expected Baz to speak to him or invite him anywhere (his mind started imagining all sorts of impossibilities as soon as he did).

‘Why?’ Simon asked, bewildered.

‘Just come on.’

Baz’s face was stoic now, giving nothing away. Maybe all the smiling really did have something to do with Simon’s imminent downfall…

He didn’t care.

He suspected that even if he knew he was heading towards certain death, he would still follow Baz there.


Baz walked silently towards the woods.

‘Going to shove me off the cliff this time, finish what you started?’

‘What you started, Snow,’ Baz said, smirking. Simon was going to get one hell of a surprise…

‘What were you even doing that day?’

‘You’re so nosey.’

‘I have plenty of reasons to be suspicious,’ Simon retorted.

‘Do you think I was plotting?’ Baz said, still smiling.

‘Were you?’

‘Do you think I’m plotting now?’


Simon honestly couldn’t say. Baz seemed too happy, he seemed almost giddy, and now Simon didn’t want to follow him. Whatever Baz did, he wasn’t sure he could hold it together. He wasn’t sure he could keep this secret anymore.

‘Are you coming, Snow?’

Baz looked behind him at Simon, standing frozen, torn between following him to the ends of the Earth and running as far away as he could.

Simon stared above Baz’s head; he couldn’t meet his eyes.


He might go off. Baz was staring at him and his heart was pounding so fast and he was terrified and he might go off.

‘Okay,’ Baz said suddenly, walking back to Simon’s side. ‘Okay. Forget the sunset and the stars and… it was stupid. Okay. I’ll just do this.’

Baz took Simon’s hand. They both stared as Baz wound his fingers through Simon’s.

Simon’s hand was prickling. This was a new kind of fire, different to the magic coursing beneath his skin.

He looked up from their joined hands into Baz’s grey eyes, dark now like a brewing storm.

Then Baz moved forward, impossibly slowly, and Simon felt his eyes closing. This couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be happening.

They were kissing now.

And it was definitely real. Even Simon’s dreams couldn’t invent something like this.

This was a new kind of fire.

In Today’s Magic Story...

The Talented Captain Vraska

I’d like to begin by giving this a subtitle, “Because Angrath already took the title of Dread Pirate.”  Now onto the story.

House of the Ochran, Ravnica

  • First, let’s just appreciate that Bolas just slips her this invitation via a book.  He obviously knows his target, and knows that she’ll definitely see this.
    • Second, the gaudiness of the invitation.  Gold ink.  Sandalwood.  Magic.  By gods, this guy.
    • Third, all it says is “MEDITATION PLANE.”  In all caps.  No reason.  No directions.  No description.  Just “BE HERE”.  Bolas never fails to disappoint.
    • Fourth, telepathic ink.  Bolas truly spares no expense.
  • Also there’s not much on the Ochran, apart that Vraska is part of their organization.  This was all the way back with Mazirek’s story.
  • I don’t know what flats are.  I assumed flats were British apartments or something, but oh well.
  • We already touched on this, but Bolas really does go the extra mile in accommodating his pawns.  Mysterious note in a book?  Check.  Magical ink?  Check.  Hiring an assassin bored with assassinating to do something other than assassinate?  Check.
  • Nicol Bolas towered over her, a gold streak against the sky, posture as far from reptilian as his anatomy would allow.
    • Well yeah, he’s basically one giant angry noodle with wings.
  • You read my mind?
    I am currently reading your mind.
    • Oh how I missed reading Nicol Bolas!
  • You need to charge up petrification magic depending on the size of the foe.  So it’s a wind-up.
  • When we last saw Vraska, it seemed like she was setting up Mazirek to take command of the Golgari.  But as long as the injustice done to the downtrodden is removed, it’s all good.
  • Who is Bolas’ associate?  Surely not Tezzeret, he’s more of a lackey or servant.  Is Bolas just being polite, or is there someone whom he regards highly enough to call an associate?
  • I can double-cross him if this goes south.
    “No,” said Nicol Bolas. “You cannot.”
    • I said it before, but I’ll say it again.  I hate the attrocities this elder dragon perpetrates, but god do I love his character and writing!
  • Bolas doesn’t just give her the compass: no, he teleports it into her pocket.  Handing things to people is for peons.
  • Bolas – and now Vraska – know of a spell strong enough to travel through the Blind Eternities and reach someone else.  A specific someone else, I might add.
    • “You’d be surprised what one learns over millennia of boredom,” mused the dragon.
  • The end is worth the means, Vraska told herself…
    • Very important characterization.

Keep reading

For You Are

Wrap your arms around me

Sing me a song
Full of images inspired
By love and desires
Where I am your hero
You are my Muse
Casting a spell
Sparking the fuse

Broken and spent
May I lay at your feet
Having given my everything
Avoiding defeat

For you are

My strength
My purpose
My life
My reason

My safe haven
My storm
My changing
Of season

Shine your rays on my face
Battered and scarred
After years of promises
I’ve overcome so far.

I promise to you
Give all of me, true.
Across plains and high desert,
Mountains, rivers, no lesser.

Still I will come back
To feel you at my side
Feeling your warmth
In bed every night.

One day, say you will,
Until then I’ll be waiting
Hanging onto the dream
My lust finally sating.

Only you,
Always you,
Hopefully you…

Will feel it, too.

-H. Murcia 12:30AM 3/28/2017

Fanfic (Risingwood): Out In the Woods

Content warnings for smut and slight dub-con.

Risingwood, yay!

So I know I said I didn’t really see Risingwood as being a particularly sexual ship for me (and this will likely be the only smut I’ll write for the pairing) but I wasn’t really in the mood for writing anything fluffy and then there was the werewolf short and I remembered my love for werewolfhunter!Ryan and I just

[AO3 Mirror]

~* * *~

Ryan barely made a sound as he moved, despite the myriad of dry leaves scattered across the forest floor. It was to be expected, of course. He hunted Halfbreeds for a living, and it was near impossible to last long in such a field if one was incapable of sneaking up on the enemy.

A light wind tumbled the leaves across the ground, and Ryan used the skittering sound to cover his footsteps as he began to move faster.

He’d been tracking his current prey for three days now. Locals had been complaining about massacred animal corpses found along game trails, but no human casualties - yet. It was always just a matter of time with Halfbreeds, where their bloodlust and hunger for flesh overcame their natural wariness of humans.

Three days had been more than long enough for Ryan to figure out that his quarry was male, likely younger than himself, and alone. The Halfbreed wasn’t an alpha-male type, which was surprising, seeing as non-dominant Halfbreeds were rarely found outside of the protection of their pack. Ryan thought it likely that the Halfbreed had some sort of physical deformity. The law of the wild was harsh - bodily imperfections were considered a death sentence, and a malformed Halfbreed would see themselves shunned from any prospective pack.

This only made Ryan’s job easier.

Keep reading

stumblingsbalderdash  asked:

Maxwell wants his 💘 from Pelle. ψ(`∇´)ψ

Send “💘” for my muse to write yours a love letter.

Dear Maxwell, 

Let me first begin by saying that should you take this letter in the wrong light I may have to write you another or meet you in person and spell the meaning out for you myself. 

I admire you. 

Now before you go getting all giddy and blushy and go flashing your ‘love letter’ to your very beautiful husband let me explain. 

Most templars are rather unkind to my people, Soli’s people. But you, well I have to say as particularly vexing you are I respect you for the way you don’t look down on elves or people with magic–I don’t think you do?

Anyways, while you are positively annoying and very eccentric, i will give it to you that you are charming… 
You’re also quite handsome in spite of yourself and from what I have accidentally heard from your husband you’re apparently pretty good in more private places. Now before you get excited no I don’t want to find out how true that is but you may take all these baseless compliments as you will. 

I might go on and tell you you’re quite good with a sword though not the one you’re thinking but those are other compliments for other letters of encouragement should I think you need a literary pat on the back. 

Please do not ask me about this unless you’ve brought wine


Pelledir Sibil Lavellan 

Lost Chapter 4

Read the first chapter here (x)

Warnings: None
A/N: Everything from the potterverse belongs to Ms. J.K. Rowling.

Masterlist here

At every free moment, you and your friends spent all yourtime working on the proposed cure for George. Hermione locked herself in the room you shared reading for hours on end. You were sure she was exhausted, but she never admitted to it. Ron snuck out of wedding planning several times to scour for the proposed Weasley pensive. You had to hand it to him for visiting ten members of your family at a time and still coming back in time for dinner. Amidst the work you did to prepare for Fleur and Bill’s wedding, it seemed like you couldn’t get the memories down fast enough.

Just as you were starting to reach the ropes end of the memories you had, you heard a small knock on your bedroom door.

“Y/N, Hermione, Ron’s back with the pensieve,” Harry called.  The two of you couldn’t scramble out of your room fast enough. When you arrived in Ron and Harry’s room, you took a long look at the pensieve. It was a relatively large silver bowl with what appeared to be latin text scribbled around the edges: iucunda memoria est praeteritorum malorum.

“Pleasant is the memory of past troubles,” Hermione translated. “Yep this is definitely a pensieve alright.”

“Good because I did not want to have spent three hours chatting with Aunt Muriel for nothing,” Ron moaned.

“It’s strangely empty for something you’ve had in your family for centuries,” Harry commented.

“Yeah Muriel wouldn’t let me take memories. She said I’d spill hundreds of years’ worth of Weasley treasures whatever that means,” Ron confessed.

“Well I guess that’s good in a way. George will just have a vat of his own personal memories with Y/N and nothing else,” Hermione shrugged.

“I’ll go get Fred” you began to reach for the door when you felt Harry’s hand on your shoulder.

“George is in there. If he sees you he’s going to go ballistic. I’ll go get Fred,” Harry offered.

“While he’s gone, let’s extract a simple memory from you. We’ll get the rest later,” Hermione smiled as she motioned for you to sit down beside her. “I want you to think of a nice introductory memory for George.”

You closed your eyes and imagined the first time you saw George. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I got it,” Hermione marveled. You opened your eyes and stared at the silver strand that was dangling from her wand. Quickly, she dropped it in the pensieve, and the empty bowl filled with a silvery liquid containing your one memory. “What were you laughing about?”

“You’ll see when Fred finally comes back,” you smiled as you tried to suppress your laughter.

“What are you saying about me?” Fred pondered as he strode in the room.

“Nothing negative it’s just the first time I met George,” you started laughing again.  Fred smiled the memory replaying in his mind.

“I already filled Fred in as we walked here. We just need to see if the memories are clear enough to help George remember,” Harry spoke. “I have no doubt that Hermione did a perfect job on the spell, but we can’t be too careful.”

“How many people can watch the memory at a time?” Ron mused.

“Just one I’m afraid,” Hermione sighed.

“Alright Y/N you should go. You’ll be able to see if there is anything wrong with the memory,” Harry replied.

“If anything happens I can pull you out straight away,” Hermione reassured you. You took a deep breath , and taking one final look at your friends, you placed your head in liquid.


You felt yourself falling, and you screamed when you realized there was nothing to hold on to. All you could do was close your eyes and pray that there would be something soft to catch you.

You landed with a loud thud; surprisingly you didn’t feel any pain from your rough landing. Dusting yourself off, you stood up and looked around. You were in a one of the hallways of Hogwarts, and you were not alone. Your younger self was making her way down the hallway humming a happy tune. You almost wanted to laugh at how embarrassing you were, but you just followed yourself down the hall. There was a faint whispering coming from somewhere down the hall, yet the younger version of yourself was so enraptured by the tune she didn’t notice. Just as you remembered what was to happen next, your younger self was hit by a purple puff of smoke. When the smoke finally cleared, she looked at her robes and exposed limbs. When she realized they were completely purple, instead of gasping in horror, she started laughing uncontrollably.

“I told you we should’ve checked the hallways before we started,” Fred muttered as George started running toward your younger self. Your heart ached when you saw him; it had been far too long since you last saw him.

“I’m so sorry about this are you alright?” George asked your younger self with a look of concern.  

“I’m fine,” the younger you gasped in between laughs. When she finally calmed herself down, she continued “That’s one powerful spell you have. Why test it indoors?”

“Doesn’t affect anyone but people and their clothing they have on. Now I’m beginning to wish we didn’t affect the clothing,” George sighed.

“It’s absolutely brilliant though it could use a bit of tweaking,” she commented.

“So you’re a pranking genius now?” George teased.

“You know it,” she sassed back.

“What is your name oh pranking genius?” George asked.

“Y/N. And you both are?” she questioned.

“I’m George and that is Fred,” he answered calmly. “Now I think I owe it to you to help you clean up. This is going to take a lot of work getting out.” She flicked her wand absentmindedly restoring your clothes and exposed limbs to their normal colors. Both you and her smiled in unison; you knew it was a simple spell, but the fact that it impressed George still got to you.  

“How did you-” George stammered.

“I’ll teach you in time young Padawan,” you winked.

The memory started to blur and you felt a force pulling you upward. You didn’t want to leave. You wanted to stay and see what happened next.


You were gasping as you pulled your head out of the plate.

“Did it work?” Hermione inquired, a look of concern in her eyes.

“Better than I expected it to,” you praised. Every detail was perfect down to a tee.

“When should I show George this?” Fred piped.

“Tomorrow I think when we can all be there,” Harry paused, “I mean not you Y/N, but you know we’d want you there if we could.”

“How did it feel?” asked Ron.

“Real Ron,” you turned to face Hermione, “Are all these memories going to be this realistic?”

“Yes. They have to be for George’s sake,” Hermione purred. “You don’t have to watch every one Y/N. That would be too emotionally exhausting for you.”

“I might have to watch them all eventually. I mean what if he’s really lost to me,” you speculated. Everyone looked away, no one was willing to face that possibility yet

“You don’t know that and nor do I Y/N,” Hermione reasoned. “ We’ll try everything in our power to help him but you need to trust us.”

You nodded and walked back to your room. You prayed that George would react just as positively to you reintroducing yourself through memory as he had the first time you met.

The story continues (x)

Leave the Demons in the Dust

TITLE: Leave the Demons in the Dust
CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: 4   (Part 1Part 2Part 3)
AUTHOR: MarvelousMindLoki
WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Adam (Only Lovers Left Alive)
GENRE: Romance / Drama / Smut
FIC SUMMARY: Adam’s reclusive vampiric existence is disturbed by a woman who needs his help, she turns out to be more than he expected. A ‘zombie’ he can’t apply the designation to… an equal he can’t resist.
To my followers: if you’re not over 18 or you don’t like smutty fics, please do not read this. Ignore it and continue to enjoy the pretty pictures I make ;)

Adam continued to mix and tweak the recording while I scribbled down a new melody floating though my head, as lost in my own thoughts as he was in his. The dilated vein patterns in my pale hands eventually convinced me to head downstairs and dig through my bag for vitamins. The subdued buzz of music reverberated through the moldering walls as Adam played the latest recording again.

By the time I managed to make a clean glass of water for myself the song had ended and the house quieted. Voices drifted through the stairwell as I came back up the worn steps. Stopping instinctively, I listened to assess this new situation. Adam had a tv in the room, but it had seen better days a few decades ago. I assumed it didn’t work. When I was sure that I was indeed hearing the muted rumble of his voice, I continued climbing the stairs.

A charismatic female voice echoed through the hall, bright with interest “And how are things going with your muse, playboy?”

Keep reading

The Binding- Chapter 20


Bill really didn’t like getting the silent treatment.  

He understood Pine Tree being frustrated he really did, it was unavoidable though.  “Pine Tree, please.”  The human just glared at him.  “You know I am only doing this for your safety.”

Dipper scoffed.  “You sound like HIM.”  

Bill’s expression immediately soured.  “I am NOTHING like HIM.”

“Really?!”  Pine Tree snapped.  “Because locking up the work room and refusing to give me any more advice or help seems-”  

“Pine Tree,” Bill interrupted, “you have reached the point where the spells you are learning no longer come easily to you.  Since we started teaching you magic everything has been easy, little practice, a quick study for you.  These more advanced spells… can you deny that you’re struggling with them?”  

There was no possible denial.  In the weeks of practice since he came back to the Falls he had accidentally turned them both into children, summoned a leprechaun- Bill still wasn’t sure how he did that when he was trying to create clothing like Bill does.  He created a thunder storm in their bedroom, turned himself into a woman for a few hours, and messed up a duplication spell.

Bill knew better than to think Dipper had reached the limits of his abilities.  He still had so much magical potential and skills.  He needed guidance now more than ever.  The demon had always only had to tell him the incantation, show him how to draw the runes or circles once and Pine Tree would have it.  He had really barely needed Bill.  

Now though- he needed a lot of careful instruction and sadly Bill couldn’t always be there.

Dipper’s shifting from foot to foot was the only answer that Bill needed.  “Pine Tree I am not taking it away from you- I would never do that.  Please just give me some time to find you a good familiar to guide you when I can’t.”

“I…”  The anger seemed to fade slightly from his face.  “Back in Cali I was without my magic for so long.  This is my safe haven Bill- its just really hard to have it taken here too.”

Bill sighed and chanced a hug, happily finding his Pine Tree didn’t shy away.  “I know Pine Tree, I am not taking it forever, and I never meant for it to be so long already.  I am sorry for that.  Please just give me a bit more time.”

“I don’t see how I have much of a choice.”  The human grumbled into Bill’s shoulder.  Bill made a silent promise that he would bring home a familiar by the end of the week.  

Bill is nothing if not good to his word.  Dipper came home from a trip into the woods, some kind of meeting with the gnomes to teach them democracy so they stopped trying to kidnap girls to be their queen, Saturday evening.

From the look of him it hadn’t gone well.  Bill refrained from saying ‘I told you so’.  He wasn’t to worried about gnomes, he had something that was sure to cheer his Pine Tree up.

Before he even greeted the human he grabbed his hand and pulled him, protesting, up the stairs.  All protests died when they entered the work room, door now freely open.  Perched in Bill’s favorite chair, in the corner where Shooting Star’s bed used to be, was a huge black cat, small white spoltch on its chest, and with shining yellow eyes.  It was certainly no domestic cat, everything about it far too large.

“Dipper Pines, your familiar, Malin.”

Dipper stared at the cat with wide eyes.  “He’s not dome-”

“He’s a kellas cat, wild cats from the Scottish Highlands.  Very ancient breed. The celts thought it was a spectral fairy creature that haunted the land.  Some even thought they were witches themselves with the ability to turn into a cat.”

Bill watched Dipper’s grin grow and grow as he spoke.  He knew the young man would love the stories and mystery surrounding the kellas.  He decided he wouldn’t tell him that second story was true.  Well with a couple of small differences.

Having been a witch himself long ago Malin was the perfect familiar.  “Hi th- um, Merry meet Malin.”  Bill positively beamed at Pine Tree’s good manners and remembering a proper witch greeting.  Malin was pleased to if how he straightened up and his eyes relaxed was anything to go by.  “I am Dipper, it would be an honor to work with you.”

“I suggest getting to know each other a couple days before trying any magic together.”  Bill warned.

“Of course.”  Dipper scoffed, Malin jumping down from the chair to rub against Dipper’s legs.  

Very good young one.  It will be good to work with you.

Dipper grinned down at him.  “Well Malin, how about I show you my favorite place in the world?  The woods.”

And thus started the familiar, witch bonding.

It was only a couple days before Dipper was starting on more difficult spells, Malin at his side, Bill watching over them.

Dipper still struggled with them a little but there were no more big accidents.  Just a few explosions.  

It was in the middle of learning a spell that could create a bubble like shield around a group- perfect for him and Mabel when out on adventures- that Bill noticed it.  That he confirmed it.  Every day since Malin had come into the house Pine Tree’s clock was increasing.  Just a few hours at a time.  But this spell, it increased even more than most.

A familiar was a good choice.

“Bill?!”  Bill was broken from his musings by Pine Tree scowling at him.  “Have you been listening?”

“Yes?”  Dipper rolled his eyes.  “No.”

“You need to learn to focus Bill.”

“I was focused, and on you at that, just not… what you were saying?”

The glare he got could be killer.  “Its your clock!  Its been going up ever since I brought Malin in!  Having him has extended your life.”

“I… what?!”  Dipper glanced down at the cat.  “How…  Has it really?”

Bill couldn’t help smiling.  Every hour, every day, it was that much more time he got to have with his Pine Tree.  “It has.”


It seemed every time the twins went in town, anywhere they went that got a warm welcome.  All but one place.  

The church.

They noticed their first trip into town it was having some kinds of renovations, seemed to be growing larger.  

“But no one goes…”  Mabel frowned.

Dipper frowned then too.  If what Wendy and Soos said was anything to go by the church attendance of Gravity Falls had never been good.  And ever since BIll made himself known it had shrunk even further.  Only a handful of people still attended.  Mostly the elders of the town.

Why would they make it bigger when they had no one coming?  How had they gotten the funds for it?

DIpper’s eyes drew to a dark figure come out the front doors.  A dower old man with silver hair and sharp dark eyes was soon joined by three more younger priests.  The man saw them on the corner across the street and glared at them, his stern face twisting into a dark scowl.

Dipper’s fingers traced the edge of his triangle pin, seeking its comfort under that gaze.  “Mabs we need to leave.”

He hadn’t even gotten the words all the way out before Mabel was grabbing his hand and leading him down the street at an almost jog.  “The priest knows?!”  She hissed under he breath when they were almost a block away.  How… how did he find out?  Everyone was keeping quiet.

The rule was to only talk about Bill with other people with triangles.

Everyone knew it.  So how had the priest found out?

Maybe it wasn’t about Bill.  Dipper knew people in town called him Mr. Witch ever since he had saved Katie in the fall.  Maybe that was it.  It was only about the strange boy who randomly showed up throughout the year whom seemed to have a larger flock than the church.

“Maybe, I don’t know.  We’ll ask Susan.”

Sadly Susan confirmed that Bill was known.  She told the story of how the priest had come in for lunch one day and had seen her triangle pin.  He had gripped his rosary tight, muttering a prayer and calling her a heathen before storming out.  He hadn’t come back since.

She had no idea how he had found out.  But since then the church had started renovating.

Dipper realized what they were doing now.  Peacocking.  Trying to puff up, show off, saying ‘Hey look at me!  Look how good I am.’ to try and entice people back.

Dipper could have laughed if i weren’t for the dread bubbling in his belly.  The same dread from when Bill had first started handing out pins, when people had started learning about him, two years ago now.  

In spite of his misgivings, over winter break he had given Bill his consent in building this following.  Everything had seemed fine then and in spring everything had been so nice- well besides that brat Gideon.  Now though… his fears came back ten fold.  

Wait… “Gideon.”  He hissed.  Mabel stiffened up, on high alert and quickly scanned the diner and the street outside.  “Bill chased him off and he did tuck tail and run, right to the church.”  He could see the same rage that was growing in him rise in Mabel’s face.  “Where else would he be safe?  Bill can’t go onto hollowed ground.”

“Little slime.”  Mabel growled, holding her fork so tight she was almost bending it.  “If I ever see him again…”

Dipper could easily guess at the things his sister would do.  She had always been fierce and quick to anger, and with her strength DIpper was almost more scared of what she would do than what Bill would.  Almost.

After that they stayed away from the church, always keeping a block between it and them.

Then came the strangers.  New priests, a Father, ‘friends of the church’ that suddenly showed up. Everything about them made Dipper uneasy.  

Bill telling them to stay at least three blocks away from the church didn’t help that much.  

“Dipper what are they doing?  There isn’t anyone to go there, why bring in more priests?”

Dipper’s brows furrowed, heart sinking in his chest.  “They aren’t here to preach Mabs.  They know whats out here, they’re building an army.”

Mabel clutched his arm and yanked him further down the block.  “We need to go home now.”  They needed to tell Bill, to tell Stan.

They needed to be ready.


Three years since that day, that Leon sacrificed himself to save her from the hoard of Heartless. It was shocking, and traumatizing. Leon always won! Badly injured, but won! Yet that time…It had been too much.

Aerith was so helpless, and overwhelmed. No matter what healing spell she did…

It wasn’t enough to save him. 

Truth be told, she still missed him. So terribly…Emerald orbs watering with tears yet to be shed. 

“Why…? Why did you have to save me…? Why didn’t you just go…? Your much more important to the group than I am…I feel like I’m doing a terrible job leading everyone.” Aerith finally started to sob, falling to her knees as shaking arms wrapped around the cold tombstone. 

“I’m sorry.." 

That voice…

It couldn’t be him.

Yet, that voice was so distinct. I had to be him. 

When the woman slowly turned around, Aerith’s eyes widened to see Leon standing there. A small smile started coming onto her lips, before it disappeared. She shouldn’t look at him…

Not when she let him die.

"Why are you apologizing…? I..I let you die…I wasn’t strong enough to save you." 

Leon had been gone for three years. Then again, when lost in the Darkness, time didn’t pass the same way that it did in the real world. He pulled the hood back from his face, watched Aerith begin to smile. And then it was gone.

"You didn’t. You saved me,” he said, taking a couple of steps towards her and the tombstone. All the graves here were empty… there was hardly ever a body to bury. “You were what kept me from having my Heart stolen. Because it wasn’t mine for a very long time.

"Your healing spells kept my body from dying… I was sent to the Realm of Darkness. But now I’ve escaped. I’m back, Aerith. Back home where I belong. Where the person who has my heart is.”

He extended a hand, smiled at the brunette. “You can hit me if you want. I deserve it.”