i admit book prices are higher than they used to be but still

Bound To Happen (Part 5), Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Prompt: The chronicles of being Lin’s assistant to maybe something more.

Words: 1,686

Author’s Note: Yes, I know the Tony Awards are in the middle of June but I needed to make this scene possible and this is how it worked. Whoops. This makes up for my lack of a Valentine’s Day fic, right? Right?

Warnings: As always, a slow burn. Things are happening in this one, though.

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“Today’s the day.” Lin stormed past you, stride confident and determined.

“Good morning.” You offered, trailing after him.

Today’s the day.” He repeated, stopping in his tracks just as he made it center stage. He glanced around for a moment, taking in the thing he had created. He looked at you, his eyes shining with something you only momentarily saw on stage.

“Today’s the day.” You confirmed, noticing a majority of the cast had collected onto the stage as well. Tommy Kail was striding from his office with a group of producers in tow.

There was more money among his little posse than you would ever see.

Tommy’s face was wet and soon everyone else’s were as well. He held up a crumpled sheet of paper.

“Is that it?”

“Straight from the office.” Tommy told him, just as Lin snatched it away. The yellow color of the pages signified the importance.

Lin scanned over the page, thumb brushing over each word.

“Thirteen.” He sighed, “Thirteen Tony nominations.” He watched as the cast erupted in cheers, embracing and laughing and standing in disbelief because this wasn’t something that happened everyday to people like them.

The producers were sharking hands and offering congratulations, and Lin swept you into his arms before he could stop himself. The stack of papers you had organized in your hands were on the floor in a pile, but you didn’t move to collect them.

Suddenly the entire team was around you, but all you saw was Lin grinning down at you, repeating ‘Today is the day’ in a hushed voice, as if this day was just for the two of you to share.

“Who are you using your extra ticket on?” Mandy asked conversationally, fingers running through your hair. Eyes were on you - the person who trailed after Lin and didn’t seem to do much else. There was no talk of boyfriends or girlfriends or any friends outside of the theater.

You smiled at the idea of having a secret identity away from these people who tried and failed to pry information from you. Maybe you fought crime - or committed them?

“Nobody. Considering selling it on E-Bay.” You shrugged, knowing that your joke could easily be a reality and make your rent payment a little smoother.

“And your dress?” She pushed further.

“I have the one from opening night.”

The women in the room gasped and you suddenly wished you hadn’t taken Lin up on that break he offered you. Mandy’s fingers tugged a little harder on your hair.

“You are not wearing that dress again, didn’t you say it was your Senior Prom dress?” Karen’s eyes were bearing into your soul, it felt like.

You didn’t answer - which was an answer enough for them.

“We are getting you a new dress and a date.”

The dress was an easy choice - something satin and pale in color that looked oddly similar to your prom dress but with a heftier price tag.

The date was another thing entirely. Within the month before the awards, you had shuffled through a handful of guys - and one girl - from Mandy and Karen’s black books. None appealed to you in the right way and eventually you were starting to lose hope.

Not just hope that you would find the right person to attend the event with - the hope that you would find the right person in general.

As the day rolled closer and the dates began to stop, you found yourself dreading the awards night more than anything else. You would be all dolled up in a room full of important people with amazing partners alone.

You decided five minutes before you were supposed to leave for the pre-party that you weren’t going. You left a hurried voicemail on Mandy’s machine, something about the snow and a headache and every single excuse you could make in the span of a minute.

Dressed in your gown and with pristine makeup that took a little longer than you were proud to admit - you drank a warm beer on your couch with Sesame Street paying in the background.

The snow was falling lightly outside and you could only imagine how warm the club the cast was currently in could be. Drinks and laughter and love were probably filling the air and you could spit at the idea.

“Remember we’re on a Broadway budget here - not too many drinks, please?” Tommy called to the group as another round was ordered. There was already a buzz and they hadn’t even walked the carpet yet.

“It’s a celebration!”

“Where’s Y/N?” Chris asked, eyes darting over the crowd the club provided.

“She’s not coming. Something about the snow and a headache and life in general.” Mandy was one drink in, stirring her cocktail with a tiny straw. “I called her six times but no answer - I don’t think there’s any getting through to her.”

“She’s not coming?” Lin asked, dumbstruck. Mandy nodded. “Is this about the date thing?”

Nobody spoke, all waiting for Lin to do exactly what he should.

“Okay. Guys, grab your coats. Ladies, order another round on me.” Lin fished in his pocket and slammed a bill on the bar, tossing back the final sip on his drink. “We’ll meet you at the theater.”

“Where are you going?” Karen called after his retreating form, the gaggle of men following his determined steps.

“I’m gonna kill her.”

You were halfway finished with your beer, rummaging through your pantry for an opened box of Girl Scout cookies you swore were still in there when you heard a thud.

You paused for a moment, waiting for another sound.

Thuds echoed through your entire apartment, and you nearly tripped over the length of your gown trying to find the source.

The sounds led you to the window of your living room - the visual of snow pelting the glass signaled someone trying to grab your attention. You worked the bottom of the window, shoving it open and having to dodge a snowball in the process.

The buzzer was broken - of course the buzzer was broken. Lin groaned as he retreated from the steps of your apartment building.

“Dude, where is your jacket?” Alex asked Chris, who was standing shivering in the snow.

“On my wife.”

“Why does your wife have your jacket?” Questioned Tommy.

“Sometimes you have to give up your jacket and develop hypothermia for the people you love.”

“Buzzer’s broken.” Lin sighed. “She’s not answering her phone either.”

“Looks like we’re breaking in.” Andy shrugged, already taking a step towards the door. A hand on his chest stopped him.

“We are not breaking in.” Lin pushed him back to the group, “I got this.” Lin pivoted back to your building, shouting your name at the top of his lungs.

“Don’t forget we have to perform today.” Chris chided him, hand on his shoulder.

Lin surrendered his yelling and instead found himself packing snow into his hands, wailing it at your illuminated window. The rest of the guys watched as his attempted throws narrowly missed and decided to help him out.

Soon, all four men were chucking hastily made snowballs at your apartment as their cab driver sat and watched, the toll slowly ticking higher and higher.

“What the hell are you doing?” You shouted down to the group of giggling men.

“Get down here!” Lin shouted back, quite a bit louder. “Come on!” The rest of the guys joined him.

You succeeded, slamming your window shut and slipping on the shoes you had perched by your front door. They crunched the snow as you descended the steps of your apartment building onto the empty street.

Lin’s coat was immediately wrapped around your shoulders.

“What are you doing here, you guys should all be on your way to the awards.” You shoved his chest gently.

The other guys stood in the back, making it rather obvious they were watching closely. They shared looks, each wondering is this going to be the night?

“Not without you.” Was Lin’s immediate answer. “It wouldn’t be right. You’ve been with me longer than any of these assholes.” His thumb jerked back to the guys, “You deserve this night more than any of us do.”

“Lin, I’m not in the mood for this right now.”


“You guys should go enjoy your night and I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“You don’t understand-” Lin stopped himself, the wild rush of adrenaline he had been feeling on the drive over coming to a sudden halt as he took you in. “You look amazing.”

For the first time that night, you smiled.

“I’ll be your date tonight.” He insisted, gloved hands holding yours as you clenched them in the cold. “This is a night of celebration and happiness and the only way I can do that is with you standing next to me.”

You considered this for a moment, before looking over Lin’s shoulder at his merry little gang.

“Hey, guys.”

They all called back equal responses. Lin held out his arm to you and you couldn’t find it in yourself to turn away. You linked your arm in his as your friends climbed back in the cab, mumbling words on how happy there were you would be joining them.

“I’m sorry you did all this for me, on your big night.” You whispered to Lin.

“None of that.” He told you, arm squeezing a bit tighter, “You’re gonna have to sit on somebody’s lap.”

You piled into the car, your half finished beer long forgotten on your kitchen counter. Lin, as he was in your everyday life, was right by your side the entire night. You watched as he accepted a Tony Award and pointed at you from the stage, rhyming your name expertly in a perfect couplet.

Your lousy dates and prom dress was in the very back of your mind, and at the forefront was Lin. Not just the Lin who was making his dreams come true that night, but the Lin from all those years ago who had a dream and decided to bring you along for the ride.

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Creepypasta #1095: The Room At The Bottom Of The Stairs

Length: Super long

This is the story of what happened to my family when I was 14. It was the strangest series of experiences I’ve ever had. 

My dad was an abuser. He never really touched me - he mostly ignored me, like I was beneath his notice - but he was terribly cruel to my mother. He never raised his voice or hit her when we were watching, but he would just quietly criticise her in an almost unbroken stream of soft, matter-of-fact verbal abuse. Also, while he may not have done it in front of us, I know he definitely hit her. My mother was - and still is today - a graceful woman. The stories about her tripping on the stairs or slipping on the wet bathroom floor never rang true, and yet we all saw the bruises, the arm in a sling, the band-aids over grazes.

She left him when I was 14 and we were all relieved. I felt no love for him and I had become more and more convinced over the last couple of years that one day he would kill her, and maybe us too. Seriously, he was a frightening man - seemingly soft-spoken, but cold and intense. When stories crop up on the news about fathers snapping and murdering their families, I always imagine my dad could easily have been one of them.

So we left, and I was glad. There were three of us: me, mum, and my big brother Joseph who was a 16 at the time, only a few months off 17. Technically, he was old enough that he could have left home already, but like me he lived in fear of what dad might do without a tall, muscular 17 year old in the house. Joey was a rugby player, a hundred kilos of solid muscle, but the opposite of our father: gentle, sweet, generous. I think it was his growing resentment of our father that pushed mum to leave. She told me years later that she had nightmares about Joey losing it and beating dad to a pulp, ending up in prison.

Mum did her homework as thoroughly as she could. She got the court order in place so dad would be barred from entering the property or coming anywhere near it, and the very next day she had the moving truck and the self-storage unit booked. A soon-to-be homeless unemployed single mother has limited resources, so we had to do all the moving ourselves. That was a long, exhausting day, but it was good, too. Liberating. We knew we were leaving that bastard behind.

Most of our stuff was stored away and we lived for a couple of months with mum’s sister Bella and her husband Steve. Their apartment was small for just the two of them, so with five of us there it was insanely cramped. Mum’s plan was simple enough - get a job, any job, and then find a place to rent - but the job market wasn’t great for a fortysomething single mum who hadn’t worked in almost 20 years.

Thankfully, the government came through with some emergency payments. Between that and Joey’s income from his weekend job, we had enough money coming in that we could maybe think about moving into somewhere very cheap. It wasn’t just the cramped apartment, either. Mum didn’t talk about it much, but she knew that dad knew her sister’s address. A few times the phone would ring in the middle of the night and the caller would hang up without saying anything, so mum was starting to get spooked.

Our stroke of luck came in a matched pair. Mum got a job interview for an office admin position, and it went very well (the interviewer was a sympathetic older woman and mum was very honest about why she was looking for work after such a long break). On the way home on the bus, she saw a “for lease” sign. My mum has always been very spiritual but she was feeling very optimistic and decided the sign was, well, “a sign”. She jumped off at the next bus stop and ran back to check it out.

It was an actual house, not a unit or apartment. Most people in my mother’s position would have walked on, assuming it was out of their price range, but my mother was very observant. The road it was on ran along a kind of ridge between two hilltops, and the house was on the uphill side of the road, nestled in against a fairly steep slope. As such, the back yard was considerably higher up than the street, and the back door was on the same level as the upper storey out the front.

My mother noticed that the exterior of the house - stucco over brick, painted a creamy white - was looking pretty shabby. It was all surface dirt, the kind that would come off easily with a hose and a broom. The fact that nobody had bothered made mum feel certain the house wasn’t getting a lot of love. She took a closer look at the “for lease” sign, swinging from a wooden post in the front yard. Sure enough it was looking very weathered too. She jotted down the phone number and - she confessed to me later - almost skipped back to the bus stop.

Her instincts were good: an unusually frank agent admitted that it had been sitting empty for months and the owners were eager to get a tenant in. The rent they were asking was shockingly low and well within our budget. Mum got the rental approval and a new job on the same day, and we all felt like our troubles were over.

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Imagine Ivar VS you (part 2)

Summary: Long live the queen, or at least that is what the people say on your crownday. But the pressure resting on your shoulders drives you from the one dissicion to the other. When you call Ivar up, he is all about defeating you with his poisonous words and dangerous looks. One deal and he turnes it all out so it falls in his advantage.
Words: 2141

You had dreamed for that moment for years, not because you really wanted it but because you wanted to know how it felt. ‘And now, I crown you to queen Y/n.’ The priest announched. You sat on your knees before the altar while he putted the crown down on your head. You didn’t thought it would feel like this, like this kind of a rush. Feeling so much in the moment, feeling sadness by the fact you father wasn’t here to see this. Proud that it was your moment, after years of growing up, to assent to the trown. But more than that you felt a certain power, knowing that once you would take that throne everybody would lie on your feet. That feeling of power didn’t only came from that crown, it came from the prisoner you had downstairs. In all the stories you heard about that fearless viking leader there wasn’t one that told how he was caputered. And now you had, you had the most dominant vikingleader in your kingdom, under your rule. The only thing you had to do was contain his dominance and let yourself be the higher one. ‘Your queen.’ The priest said while you stood up and turned to the people who shouted out your name for the whole kingdom to hear. You were a young queen, a queen with already a lot to sacrifice, a queen that already had a lot to fight for. You needed to safe your people, this kingdom and the only way to do that was to find yourself an ally. The balder of the people rushed that strong feeling back to you. You lifted your chin and smiled.
‘Long life the queen.’

‘Bring him up.’ You said to your commander, he bow and walked out while you sat down on the throne, in a dress. You looked down the tin layer of clothing curving over your body. You never wore much dresses, for a feast or if your father asked but other than that you always walked around in something that easily went into armor. You were a fighter more than you were a ruler, but now you had to be both. Since your crownday yesterday you had a lot of things to take care of, formailties, a feast. Today … your eyes went away from your right hand who stood aside your throne to the commander and one of his men who carried Ivar inside. You let your chin rest on your fingers, looking to the way he looked back at you. One of the servants placed a seat before your throne where they seated the cripple up. Ivar looked down before he gaze went back up from underneath his eyelashed. You had to admit, his gaze was comsuming, or was it the way how he did it. So slowly, taking you all over in that look without ever douthing his way of looking. ’Ivar.’ You greeted him.
‘Queen, or did I heared that all wrong?’ He tilted his head, still looking at you with that look.
‘How is the dungeon treating you? First time?’ He started to laugh with your words, throwing his head back in his head. You frowed your eyebrows and looked aside to your right hand, he only shrugged. When you looked back to him he was still laughing.
‘What’s so funny.’
‘You.’ He reacted right away. Why? But you didn’t ask him that question. ‘Let’s skip the formalities queen. Yes I’m your prisoner i’m glad you feel so powerfull about it, that says just enough about me. But tell me, why am I here?’ He didn’t sound curious or something. It was like he figured it already all out and was just amusing himself with you presents, like you were the prisoner.
‘Why you came ashore here?’ You asked him, knowing his repurtation you weren’t suspecting something good out of his mouth. But that was exacly where you were heading for. Ivar his eyes were stroking the soft fabrics of your dress, like he could touch it by only looking at it. You changed a little of your weight, the corner of his lips went a little up and you know you gave him just what he wanted.
‘What do you think I come to do? Didn’t you heared my tales of triumph?’ He asked. You pushed your body up out of the throne, the dress followed your every move towards him.
‘I heared a great many things about you, Ivar the Boneless.’ You said, walking around his seat, he never lost sight of you and your body. To be honest, having him here, as your prisoner gave you a better feeling of power than that crown on your head did. ‘Whisperings through the night, priests writing it down in the holy books. There are many things be told about you. I never believe if I don’t see it with my own eyes.’
‘And what do you see now?’ He asked you with an intensive glare back. You stood still before him and gazed into his strongheaded bleu eyes.
‘There is a very large force at hand north of here. I could gave you certain things in exchange for other things.’ You began to lay facts down while walking back to your throne.
‘So, the queen needs my help?’ And that was exacly what he wanted. You saw his eyes turn to something totally different. He was willing on bargaining a far more bigger price than you had in mind. ‘Admit it, come on, you could kill me right here and right now if you wanted it.’ He started to challenge you. But it was your proud standing in the way, if you would give him this one he would gloat his way around the deal. Stories told a lot about him but they never told how manipulative he could be with only those eyes, that confident smile. Something in him pulled you right to him, another thing maked you want to run away. But your proud and curiousity kept you in the middle.
‘Don’t take me for a fool.’ You warned him.
‘You are a fool if you can think that you can make some kind of a deal with me.’ He smiled darkened. You grabbed to the dagger that layed aside you and trew it in a reflex right to him. He pulled a little aside, causing the dagger to kick into the wood of his seat, on inches from his face. You knew you wouldn’t hit him, despite you aimed right for his head. But stories told enough, if he could be killed by a dagger on a seat than those stories wouldn’t do him justice. He looked aside to the dagger before he slowly turned his head back to you, thunder almost breaking loose in his bleu eyes. You only lifted your chin, not admiting to the certain feelings that look from him gave you. He pulled the dagger out, your commanded grabbed for his sword in your defense. Ivar putted the tip of the dagger against his finger, turning it around while looking at it. ‘Leave us.’ He said so calm, so steady. Your right hand and commander looked at you, not thaking his command serious.
‘Go.’ You whispered.
‘But my queen.’
‘I can handle him, he won’t kill me.’ You said without looking away from Ivar. He didn’t react on it like you thought he would, he still looked to the dagger. You looked how the both of your advisors walked out before you turned back to Ivar. ‘Are you willing to listen to what I have to say?’ You asked him. He swinged the dagger fort and back between his fingers, gazing at you with that certain amusement again.
‘It’s not that I have another choose, I’m your prisoner, remember.’ He answered you calm. And that was where you noticed that he got everything he wanted. You started to ask him things instead of commanding it. He worked your advisors out, he tested you limits and got the results of it. He was placing you checkmate with only his words and looks. How should he be in battle then?
‘I have a big amount of land that others want to  take away. With my father recently dead I know that large force will come. I need an alience to defend this kingdom and it’s grounds.’
‘You need an army.’ He noticed. You sighned, looking down to the ground, defeated in your own struggle.
‘Yes I need an army.’ You admitted.
‘Look at that, making progress. Tell me queen, what is it that I get out of this?’ He asked, folding his hands before him, leaning a little forwards, the dagger still with him.
‘Nothing really. If you don’t take the deal that army will pass along your camp, killing everybody their before they get to me. If we join forces we might actually win.’ You shrugged, hoping he wouldn’t look for something else in it. He lifted his head a little, studying your face. ‘I could gave you some lands, gold.’
‘That is not enough and you know it.’ He reacted right away. ‘What advise gave those advisors of you?’ He asked not far after that with a slightly tilted head. You looked down in your lap before you stood up. You pulled the crown from your head and placed it on his. He needed hardly two seconds to figure it out. Seeing him with your christian crown gave you a certain shivering and he noticed that. ‘Marriage?’ He asked, stunned, but sarcastic, like he didn’t even concider it. You had a big debate over it with your advisors before you brough Ivar up here. Marriage wasn’t nessesary, you could fight, give him something and send him away. But on the other hand the enemy would try again in the future and you wouldn’t get the numbers you needed. So offering everything you had to save your people seemed in that moment as a good solution, even if that meant you had to marry a cripple. ‘You don’t know me that well if you think I would marry some christian queen only so she can use my men in her battles.’ He hissed, looking up with you with that dangerous look of his.
‘You would have everything, the lands, the castle, the throne,’
‘You as a wife.’ He went further on your words. You swallowed your discust for him away and took back your crown but his fingers where a lot faster. You looked how he putted that crown back on his head, triomfing. ‘Maybe a crown suits me after all.’
‘I could just stab you in your sleep.’
‘Yes, well, it’s a risk I’m willing to take if that means I got to have something of you.’ He reacted with a promesing look. You started walking but didn’t came further that a few steps before you stopped again.
‘It isn’t like you have a choose, or that I have a choose. It’s killing or be killed.’
‘The heavy burden of a leader, always sacrificing their own happiness.’ He agreed. You looked at him and in a moment you found some common ground with each other. ‘Let’s make this official, the fact than none of uss really wants this I’m looking forward to have you by my side.’ He gestured you to come back to him again.
‘If you think you can rule this place more than me you are wrong.’
‘That’s only up to the dominance. I bet I can take you down on your knees in no time.’ He challeged you. You walked back to him. He opened his hand and pulled the dagger over his flesh leaving a cut in the center of his hand. He offered you the dagger and you took a deep breath, not knowing what kind of thing this was. You maked the same kind of cut, clenshing your teeth when you felt the blade cutting you. He grabbed your polse and pushed his wounded hand against yours.
‘Swore under this blood oath, you will be my wife and I will rule this land.’ ‘Swore under this blood oath you will be my subject, married or not.’ You warned him. He pulled your hand away from his, looked to the wound you had, he pulled your hand closer and place a kiss on your wound. The pressure of his lips pushing the feeling through your body again.
‘Deal, I’m looking forward to it.’ He licked the blood from his lips and let you go. ‘Tast says everything and you are …’ His voice drifted, not finishing his sentence only looking at you with that dark look again. The war you had to fight against your enemies was nothing in comparing with the war you had to fight with him.

anonymous asked:

Lukas/Jesse (either gender) Lukas reading Jesse his new book please?

Local legends in the neighboring towns told of a rare treasure. A small golden totem with emerald eyes that when used, could save one from the clutches of death itself. Rumors of its location were varied, some said it was buried beneath an icy lake far out in the snow biome. Others claimed that it would be hidden in the farthest reaches of the jungle. The most frequent rumor was the totem being locked away in a ruined fortress in the Nether, guarded by a fearsome foe.

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Keep Your Nose in Your Books: Why the Ironborn Are Afraid of Lord Rodrick

Without a doubt Rodrick Harlaw of Harlaw is one of the most well-read people on Terros. He has one of the greatest libraries in the Seven Kingdoms, which he likely built wholly from scratch over the course of several decades. For this he gets no respect from his people, who find his love of reading both “unmanly and perverse” (FfC Asha). We’d like to explore the basis for this prejudice, what it reveals about him, and what it might foreshadow for the story to come.

The World Book indicates that the Ironborn’s suspicion of literacy has very deep roots, ultimately originating in the Iron Isle’s unique religious history. The ancient First Men had writing in the form of runes, but the early Ironborn were a completely oral culture. The Drowned God and the Grey King gave their people many things, but letters were not among them, and the Ironborn scorned to learn the ways of their impious enemies and despised slaves. Reading and writing only arrived with the steel wielding Andals and their septons, who tried very hard to convert the Islanders to worship of the Seven. Writing is therefore associated with deviation from the Old Ways, foreign invasions, foreign faiths, foreign brides and tainted Kings.

Lord Rodrick’s library would confirm every one of those hostile associations. The Harlaw of Harlaw acquired his books through the paying of the gold price. Between Balon’s Rebellion and the War of Five Kings he also supported a small group of septons at Ten Towers for the exclusive purpose of maintaining his vast library. Book Tower therefore vividly symbolizes every change that has come to the Iron Islands since the Andal invasion, and its owner is resented accordingly.

Bu the menace of literacy does not stop with cultural contamination, impiety and decadence. By the time the Hoare Kings brought the Iron Islands into the world system through iron trading and Stepstone raiding, the Valyrian empire was growing into the hegemonic power of Near and Central Essos. At some point, books of sorcery and sorcerers (real and pretended) would have begun trickling into the Iron Islands by Oldtown and Lannisport. This likely ensured that, soon after the introduction of Andal letters, the already dubious reputation of literacy was further blackened by an association with dangerous foreign magic. As a long term consequence of this, thoise Ironborn who become known for their skills with letters are “oft mocked as weaklings or feared as sorcerers” (World Book 177).

Weakling and sorcerer are not mutually exclusive designations. A sorcerer could be a weak warrior but truly fearsome enemy. The magical power potentially wielded by a physically weak but literate sorcerer would therefore be very threatening to a social order that ultimately rests on the mundane physical power of its warrior aristocracy. In Westerosi history, when magic works, powerful professional warriors are often among the losers. All of Renly’s swords did him little good against Melisandre’s shadow baby. Daemon Blackfyre fought like the Warrior himself, but this availed him not at all against Bloodraven’s enchanted arrows. Skinchanging abilities allowed the small, weak Lump to grow into the terrifying Varamyr Sixskins, killing many a better warrior in the process. And of course dragons allowed a single family of Valyrian dragonlords to conquer and rule nearly all of Westeros despite being badly outnumbered.

So the Ironborn have good reason to fear and despise those who use magic. As it happens, Rodrick the Reader has a well-known interest in supernatural subjects. Prior to the Kingsmoot Hotho Harlaw attempted to win Rodrick’s favor by gifting him a relatively new book by Marwyn, Archmaester of the Higher Mysteries. When Asha comes to the Ten Towers to meet her supporters and consult with her uncle she finds him reading said book in the library:

Archmaester Marwyn’s Book of Lost Books.” He lifted his gaze from the page to study her. “Hotho brought me a copy from Oldtown. He has a daughter he would have me wed.” Lord Rodrik tapped the book with a long nail. “See here? Marwyn claims to have found three pages of Signs and Portents, visions written down by the maiden daughter of Aenar Targaryen before the Doom came to Valyria.” (FfC Asha)

A marriage to the Harlaw of Harlaw is no small thing to ask, so Hotho must have purchased a book he was absolutely sure the Reader would value. Tellingly, Hotho picked Marwyn’s book. More tellingingly, when Asha pays Rodrick a visit she finds her uncle deep into it. Even more tellingly, when Asha challenges her uncle for not being at the feast table, he makes it clear that he considers the book to be urgent. And most tellingly of all, Rodrick is particularly focused on the section investigating one of the Ur-prophets of the series, Daenys the Dreamer. The possession of other magical texts can easily be inferred from this; if Rodrick enjoys reading about Marwyn’s discoveries and Valyrian prophecy, then he probably enjoys many similar subjects. As it happens, Asha also spies some extremely old scrolls that remind her of Valyria:

She found him hunched over a table by a window, surrounded by parchment scrolls that might have come from Valyria before its Doom, and heavy leather-bound books with bronze-and-iron hasps. (FfC Asha)

Valyrian scrolls are still circulating; Xaro Xhoan Daxos gave some to Dany while courting her (CoK Dany III). Rodrick’s scrolls could very well be Valyrian originals, Free City or Qartheen copies, or non-Valyrian scrolls that simply look Valyrian. However, it doesn’t seem like an accident that the Reader was hunched over Marwyn’s Book of Lost Books, reading about fragments of Signs and Portents, whilst surrounded by Valyrian-looking scrolls. It appears the Reader was in the midst of a long study of Valyrian prophecy and magic.

While obviously not a sorcerer himself, Rodrick is still clearly studying sorcery, and it’s doubtful that the suspicious and superstitious Ironborn would recognize any distinction between studying and practicing. Many Ironborn would likely be a little afraid of the Reader, but not wanting to admit the basis for this fear they would instead seek to take him down a peg by lashing out at his “weak” character, “unmanly” activities, and “perverse” interests.

Another thing to keep in mind — the difference between studying and practicing magic is diminishing. In a world where magic is becoming stronger by the day, a reader who studies magical texts and comprehends them is not far from becoming a wizard. Rodrick is reading Marwyn, and a Marwyn connection has so far gone hand in hand with magical happenings. The elusive and very literate mage has visited Asshai, instructed Mirri Maz Duur, encouraged Qyburn, and shown Samwell Tarly a burning glass candle. It’s unlikely that The Book of Lost Books will continue to be a mere side detail in a story increasingly heavy with ripening prophecies.

Realizing that many of the Ironborn would suspect Lord Rodrick of being a sorcerer, and that he actually has the potential to be a sorcerer, puts a whole new spin on the Reader’s later confrontation with Euron:

A smile played across Euron’s blue lips. “I am the storm, my lord. The first storm, and the last. I have taken the Silence on longer voyages than this, and ones far more hazardous. Have you forgotten? I have sailed the Smoking Sea and seen Valyria.”

Every man there knew that the Doom still ruled Valyria. The very sea there boiled and smoked, and the land was overrun with demons. It was said that any sailor who so much as glimpsed the fiery mountains of Valyria rising above the waves would soon die a dreadful death, yet the Crow’s Eye had been there, and returned.

“Have you?” the Reader asked, so softly.

Euron’s blue smile vanished. “Reader,” he said into the quiet, “you would do well to keep your nose in your books.”

Victarion could feel the unease in the hall. (FfC Victarion II)

Rodrick’s question visibly unsettles Euron because it plays into the Ironborn’s prejudice that readers are sorcerers. Rodrick the Reader is the one person in the Iron Islands who has actually studied lost Valyria and its magic. He is also one of the few people Euron cannot overawe with grandiose speeches, sensory overload and vague occultism. While we credit Rodrick’s realism and abundant common sense, the magically obsessed Euron might find a readier explanation in all those tomes of sorcery stashed away in Book Tower. And Euron might not be far wrong. Who knows what secrets and mysteries the Reader has uncovered or perused, what spells, prophecies, and ancient histories he has knowledge of. Thus, of all the Ironborn under the Crows Eye’s command, Lord Rodrick is the only one he truly has reason to fear. Hence why for one brief moment the Crow’s Eye’s mask slips just a little.

Christmas At Hogwarts

Originally posted by magic-of-eternity

Author: @alienor-woods
Ship(s): Jon x Sansa
Brief Summary:  Jon and Sansa both beg off chaotic family Christmases to enjoy quiet at Hogwarts.

Written for the @gameofshipschallenges​ Until Hell Freezes Over event.  Pure plotless fluff, as ~nudged by @ladysaruka​. *muah*

Sixth year was Sansa’s first time staying at Hogwarts over the Christmas hols.  Her mum hadn’t been happy about it at all, but after everything with Joffrey, she just couldn’t handle being around so many Gryffindors and Starks at once.  It was already bad enough that Arya had sniffed that Sansa should have known, dating a Slytherin and all, and Robb had threatened to dungbomb the Slytherin common room.  Apparently the Weasley twins had some sort of magical map that would help him and he could borrow it for the special low price of ten galleons.

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"Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."

nalu week day 6 - effulgence

THIS IS A COLLABORATION WITH THE LOVELY fairy-mage (link to her post HERE))!!! I wrote the story, and she drew the pictures to accompany it! We both helped give inspiration to the other aswell;)

The moment he launched the attack he knew it was a mistake. Seconds later, he was slammed through the remains of what had once been a brick wall, and continued rolling through piles of rubble for what felt like miles. The sharp rocks ripped numerous gashes into his already bruised skin, making him leave a trail of blood along the way. Finally, he came to a halt, facing the ground and spitting out dust. Damn, that guy was actually strong.

He scrambled to his feet, just in time to dodge the attack that came his way. When the smoke cleared, his enemy became visible, calmly walking towards him, a cold smile edged into his features and an ancient book pressed to his body.

Marde Guille himself had decided to join the final battle, picking out the one person he knew everyone was drawing their hope and strength from. Humans were so easy to see through, after all. Though, he had mentally noted, he also was going to vanquish the annoying blonde girl. No one could be allowed to escape Alegría and live. They actually had managed to anger him enough to make a move; nevertheless, this would be over quickly. Nobody here was anything more than a pawn in his little game – and he was the king.

“Don’t think that any of you pathetic mages can actually change anything about the outcome of our little encounter. No matter what you call yourselves…Faeries…Tigers… in the end, all you are is weak.”

“Oh yeah?? Say that again after I’ve turned you to ashes!! Karyu no Hoko!!”

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anonymous asked:

Would really love to read about holly drawing gail in the nude pleaseee. Part 3? When you have time?

Wanted to get this posted before I head off to my tutoring job. :) Enjoy.

[ part one | part two ]


Holly was annoyed for letting herself get into thissituation. She left the bookstore scrambling for a solution. She didn’t even notice her friends following. She was in too much of a jam.

The textbook she was looking for—that seemed to be on backorder everywhere—was for her senior-level Organic Chem class. She’d been sharing the nearly two-hundred dollar book with Morgan, her girlfriend.

Ex-girlfriend, Holly reminded herself. She’d become her ex nearly a month ago when Holly had discovered that Morgan had been juggling two other girls at the same time. Holly had just been another girl to get her rocks off. Nothing special.

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The "Reason" Republicans Despise Unions, Government and Anything Public
Since religious conservatives choose to live in an imaginary "universe" they'd rather see the whole fabric of our civil society shredded rather than reconsider their most cherished beliefs.

If you accept just one given about today’s Republican Party then I can explain why they seem bent on dismantling the U.S. government, unions (in places like Wisconsin) and defunding everything from high speed rail and NPR to Planned Parenthood.

Here’s the “given”:

The most powerful block in the base of the Republican Party are religious conservatives – mostly Evangelicals.

So when you want to know why the Republicans are willing to destroy American jobs, the economy and the environment, all in the name of “small government” look no farther for “motivation” than the preoccupations of the Evangelicals that have been growing more and more irrational ever since the 1970s. Back then I was sidekick to my Evangelical leader father (Francis Schaeffer) and then became a “leader” in my own right in the antiabortion movement, until I changed my mind and got out.

And yes, much talked about “corporate interests” dominate the Republican Party agenda, but the question is– why do the foot soldiers who are most of the Republican voters go along with the billionaire’s agenda?

In my new book Sex, Mom, and God: How the Bible’s Strange Take on Sex Led to Crazy Politics–and How I Learned to Love Women (and Jesus) Anyway (in stores May 7) I describe what happened to religion in America due to sexual politics, hypocritical double standards and finally… insanity. But here’s a thumbnail sketch for now:

What’s so curious is that in this religion-inflicted country of ours, the same Evangelicals, conservative Roman Catholics, and others who have been running around insisting that America had a “Christian foundation” and demanding a “return to our heritage” and/or more recently trashing health care reform as “communist” have ignored the fact that one great contribution of historic Christianity was a commitment to strong central government. For instance, as early as the fourth century, this included church support for state-funded, or state-church-funded, charities, including hospitals.

Government was seen as part of “God’s plan” for creating social justice and defending the common good. Christians were once culture-forming and culture-embracing people. Even the humanism preached by the supposedly “anti-Christian” Enlightenment thinkers of the eighteenth century was, in fact, a Deist/Christian “heresy,” with a value system espousing human dignity borrowed wholesale from a once religious/biblical ethical system.

In the scorched-earth era of the “health care reform debates” of 2009 and beyond, Evangelicals seemed to believe that Jesus commanded that all hospitals (and everything else) should be run by corporations for profit, just because corporations weren’t the evil government.

The Right even decided that it was “normal” for the state to hand over its age-old public and patriotic duties to private companies – even for military operations (“contractors”), prisons, health care, public transport, and all the rest.

The Religious Right/Far Right et al. favored private “facts,” too. They claimed that global warming wasn’t real. They asserted this because scientists (those same agents of Satan who insisted that evolution was real) were the ones who said human actions were changing the climate. Worse, the government said so, too!

“Global warming is a left-wing plot to take away our freedom!”

“Amtrak must make a profit!”

Even the word “infrastructure” lost its respectability when government had a hand in maintaining roads, bridges, and trains.

In denial of the West’s civic-minded, government-supporting heritage, Evangelicals (and the rest of the Right) wound up defending private oil companies but not God’s creation, private cars instead of public transport, private insurance conglomerates rather than government care of individuals.

The price for the Religious Right’s wholesale idolatry of private everything is that in today’s America Christ’s reputation is now tied to a cynical political party “owned” by billionaires.

It only remained for a Far Right Republican-appointed majority on the Supreme Court to rule in 2010 that unlimited corporate money could pour into political campaigns – anonymously – in a way that clearly favored corporate America and the superwealthy, who were now the only entities served by the Republican Party. So on January 21, 2010, a decades-old system of rules that governed the financing of the nation’s elections was overturned in the Supreme Court decision Citizens United v. the Federal Election Commission. The Supreme Court decision on corporate spending in political races thereby allowed the big corporations to call the shots on these elections (anonymously!).

To the old-fashioned conservative mantra “Big government doesn’t work,” the radicalized Evangelicals (and their Roman Catholic co-belligerents) have added “The U.S. government is evil!”

And the very same community – Protestant American Evangelicals – who once were the bedrock supporters of public education, and voted for such moderate and reasonable union-friendly leaders such as President Dwight Eisenhower, became the enemies of not only the public schools but also of anything in the (nonmilitary) public sphere “run by the government.”

As they opened new institutions (proudly outside the mainstream), the Evangelicals doing this “reclaiming” cast themselves in the role of persecuted exiles. (As I describe in my new book Sex, Mom and God I was part of this uprising in the 1970s and 80s).

What they never admitted was that they – we – were self-banished from mainstream institutions, not only because the Evangelicals’ political views on social issues conflicted with most people’s views, but also because Evangelicals (and other conservative religionists) found themselves holding the short end of the intellectual stick.

Science marched forth, demolishing fundamentalist “facts” with dispassionate argument. So science also became an enemy. Rather than rethink their beliefs, conservative religionists decided to renounce secular higher education and denounce it as “elitist.”

Thus, to be uninformed, even willfully and proudly ignorant (Palin), came to be considered a Godly virtue. And since misery loves company, the Evangelicals’ quest, for instance when Evangelicals dominated the Texas textbook committees, was to strive to “balance” the teaching of evolution with creationism and damn the facts.

In the minds of Evangelicals, they were recreating the Puritan’s self-exile from England by looking for a purer and better place, this time not a geographical “place” but a sanctuary within their minds (and in inward-looking schools and churches) undisturbed by facts.

Like the Puritans, the post-1970s Evangelicals (and many other conservative Christians) withdrew from the mainstream (homeschool movement etc.,) not because they were forced to but because the society around them was, in their view, fatally sinful and, worse, addicted to facts rather than to faith.

And yet having “dropped out” (to use a 1960s phrase), the Evangelicals nevertheless kept on demanding that regarding “moral” and “family” matters the society they’d renounced nonetheless had to conform to their beliefs.

The Evangelical foot soldiers never realized that the logic of their “stand” against government – often motivated by so-called pro-life issues – has played into the hands of people who never cared about human lives beyond the fact that people could be sold products. By the twenty first century, Ma and Pa No-Name were still out in the rain holding an “Abortion is Murder!” sign in Peoria and/or standing in line all night in some godforsaken mall in Kansas City to buy a book by Sarah Palin and have it signed. But it was the denizens of the corner offices at Goldman Sachs, the News Corporation, Koch Industries, Exxon, and Halliburton who were laughing.

…And that is “why” the Republicans are lashing out at unions, government, and at anything “collective” in fact at anything that diminishes the fact-free go-it-alone “ethos” of todays embittered  Evangelicals. Their real war is with modernity, facts, science and progress.  But since religious conservatives choose to live in an imaginary and magical “universe” and can’t turn back the clock to a time when everyone else did to – say the thirteenth century – they’d rather see the whole fabric of our civil society shredded rather than reconsider their most cherished beliefs.

Frank Schaeffer is a writer. His new book is Sex, Mom, and God: How the Bible’s Strange Take on Sex Led to Crazy Politics–and How I Learned to Love Women (and Jesus) Anyway