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anonymous asked:

Any valentines headcanons for Victor and Yuuri? Like how they spend it together or if some fan sent anything crazy in the past (Yuuri sending Victor things every year but being too embarrassed to write his name as the sender??)

“Wait, someone actually sent you their used panties?” Yuuri has no idea what kind of a face he’s making, but he hopes it does the sheer disgust he’s feeling justice, because what is wrong with people?

Victor laughs. “On more than one occasion. Most of the time Yakov just sent them to the incinerator.” 

“’Most of the time’?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered,” Victor says, horrifyingly, then brightens. “I didn’t get to keep any of the chocolates people gave me—for safety reasons, you know—but the plushies were mine to do whatever with. I usually gave them away to sick kids.”

He remembers. It was SKATING’s December 2003 issue cover story. Victor had been in a white doctor’s jacket smiling wide while the two children he had tucked under each arm flashed peace signs. Stuffed animals were strewn across the floor around them like fallen soldiers. He’d taped it into his cubby at Ice Palace until Takeshi joked that they should beat Yuuri up so Victor would come visit him in the hospital. Yuuri seriously considered it. 

“I can’t believe you kept some of this stuff,” Yuuri marvels, holding up an actual wedding invitation. You are cordially invited to the marriage of Victor Nikiforov and Joanne Spiers…

Yuuri gently places it back into the box. Well, chucks it back in, more like.

“Oh! Let me show you my favorite one!” Victor nudges him out of the way to rummage around, eventually coming up with a little blue envelope with a sticker that’s faded with time and oddly shaped. Yuuri squints at it, trying to place it, when it hits him. He goes very, very still.

“I think I was… maybe 16 when I got this one? It was the sweetest letter I’d ever received.” Victor sighs wistfully and cradles the envelope to his chest as though it were precious, spun glass and lace, before handing it over.

If Yuuri’s hands shake a little as he undoes the katsudon sticker on the backflap and slides the piece of notebook paper out, Victor doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he notches his chin onto Yuuri’s shoulder to read it along with him.

It’s a little yellow, but the faded images of sakura still comes through behind shaky, painstaking Cyrillic penned to fill the page.  

Dear Victor,

You are the greatest skater in the whole wide world. I am a skater too but I am only 12 years old and I am still learning. I did a triple axel for the first time yesterday! I hope you are proud. Someday I would like to hold your hand and skate with you. We could do a triple axel together. Please wait for me. 

Happy Valentine’s Day!

“I wanted to write back, but they didn’t leave a name or a return address,” Victor says softly, reaching around Yuuri to brush reverent fingers over the page. “Even with the terrible translation, it was the most genuine expression of love I’d ever seen at that time. I brought that letter with me everywhere I went, hoping I might catch a glimpse of that kid in the crowd, or even on the ice. Whoever it was, I hope they continued to skate. I really would’ve liked to have skated with them.”

The boxy letters swim and blur, spreading out until they’re vague blobs, and when Yuuri blinks to clear it, the page is wet. “It wasn’t terrible.”


Turning in Victor’s arms, Yuuri beams up at him through his tears. “The translation. It wasn’t terrible. Vasiliev-sensei at Ice Palace wrote it out for me and I spent hours practice-copying it to make sure it was perfect.”

He can see the moment realization dawns, because Victor’s furrowed brow ripples and smoothes out, jaw dropping almost into Yuuri’s lap. “You—”

The world tilts dangerously and skews when he’s tackled onto his back, and Yuuri laughs up at the ceiling as Victor presses frantic kisses to his mouth, his neck, the swells of his cheeks and the sides of his nose. He shakes with a giddy sort of joy, drowning under a wave of relief nearly fifteen years in the making, and reaches up to palm Victor’s face—a little older, a little more mature, but still the greatest skater in the whole wide world who was everything to a little boy once. Even more now as a man. 

“Thank you for waiting for me,” Yuuri murmurs, then leans up and meets Victor halfway.

The View (m)

Summary: When a supposed bath for one leads to something a little more fun.
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Smut
Warnings: PWP, exhibition kink, dirty talk, teasing, oral sex
Rating: M
Word Count: 4218

Originally posted by dream-bts

The tub is full, water sloshing over the sides any time either of you move an inch however, neither of you give a second glance at the liquid building up on the tiled floor. You both are too preoccupied with each other.

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Titled: Fade into Pitch Black

Finally got around to coloring old art that has been sitting around in my folder for months and decided to have fun and play around with my Gimp program and turn it into a gif.
I’ll also be posting the still colored version as well.

PLEASE do not repost/claim credit or steal this image. If reblogging, do not remove my username and sight source. Thank you so very much!~<3

anonymous asked:

What do you think lazy Sunday mornings would be like with Finn/Rey/Poe?

General Organa pinched the bridge of her nose. “Rey.”

There was a profound and deep silence in the hangar, interrupted only by the intermittent beep and whir of mech droids, doing their daily maintenance on the other x-wings. Leia sighed.

“Rey, I can see you.”

Very slowly, the rest of Rey’s head appeared over the edge of the cockpit. “Good morning, General,” she said with a sheepish smile.

“I was under the impression that I ordered you, along with Commander Dameron and Lieutenant Finn, to remove yourself from duty for the next three cycles before you dropped dead of exhaustion,” Leia says dryly. “Am I mistaken?”

“Um—no, General—”

“So either you ignored a direct order from your commanding general, or you’re not working on an x-wing at,” Leia idly checked her chronometer, “seven-hundred hours.”

Rey’s expression was doing something complicated, torn between amusement and vague embarrassment. “In my defense, General, I had to be awake much earlier on Jakku to beat the sun and the other scavengers. It’s simply habit by now.”

Leia snorted. “Also, you thought that no one would be around to notice your flagrant disobedience.”

“No, I’m sticking with my first answer,” Rey said firmly.

“And Commander Dameron and Lieutenant Finn? I suppose they’re still asleep in your quarters, since neither of them share your desert upbringing.”

It was funny to watch Rey school her face into blankness. “Of course, General. Why would they disobey an order from you?”

Leia did laugh at that. “Remind me to get someone from Intel to teach you how to lie convincingly. After your temporary suspension is up,” she added pointedly, when Rey perked up. “Go to bed, Rey.”

Honestly, Leia could forgive everyone who had assumed Rey was Luke’s daughter. They pulled the exact same face whenever they were annoyed, and just barely refraining from whining about it.

(Maybe it was a Jedi thing.)


Leia wandered into the command center without looking up from her datapad. It always benefited her to get through the previous day’s transmits before first shift began in earnest; otherwise she would be dealing with the backlog all week.

She marked a message from the ambassador to Brindisi for further follow-up and hummed, pleased. “If I look up and either of you is standing at the command console, I will have you dragged to medical and personally ensure that Major Calonia doses you with a sedative.”

There was a pause, then a flurry of datapads being gathered up and frantic whispering, the ping! of a file being saved to the console. A very quiet, “go, go, go,” along with boots scuffling on the duracrete.

When Leia looked up, there was no one in the command center except her, and the fading after-image of a holo battleplan. DAMERON, CMD., FINN, LT. obligingly blinked on the screen for a moment before it went dark.

Leia smiled slightly to herself, and went back to the transmits.


The next morning, she found Finn reorganizing the storeroom. At six hundred twenty hours. “That is on-duty work, Lieutenant,” she said, almost startling him into falling off the ladder. “And I’m fairly certain you are currently off-duty.”

Finn’s blank expression was much better than Rey’s. “General, with all due respect, is there any way I can convince you to sleep in an hour or two?”

“Funny,” Leia said. “That’s what I was going to ask you.”


Rey had updated the software for all the droids in the maintenance bay at some point during the night; it was time for Leia to call in the big blasters.

…….unfortunately, “the big blasters” were on their eighth run-through on the x-wing simulator. Leia watched Poe dispassionately, noting that the first run-through was timestamped 00512. “General!” Poe said, after he completed the run, and tugged his helmet off. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were there. Something I can do?”

“No,” Leia said finally. “No, just letting you know that your suspension is up tomorrow. Please be aware that if you, Rey, or Lieutenant Finn ever show up incapacitated to the point of being unable to fulfill your obligations again, I will take drastic measures.”

He regarded her warily. “May I ask what those are, General?”

“I’ll personally shove a sed-pack up your ass, Dameron. Or worse,” Leia said, cocking an eyebrow at him, “I’ll make all of you talk to a minder until you stop waking each other up with your nightmares.”

Poe, like Rey, has never been a very good liar. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, General,” he says, fitting the sim helmet back over his head. His next words are muffled—”But I’ll take it under advisement.”

one of many reasons why “QUEER” means so much to me.

[ IMAGE: a long, white image with “QUEER” faded in rainbow gradient in the background behind text written using various fonts in various sizes, colors and line-weight reading “sometimes identity is a journey. so far mine has gone something like this – – HOLY SHIT, i’m BISEXU– wait, no, i’m PANSEXUAL! oh, but demisexuality? i’m DEMI-PANSEXUAL! but wait, what if i’m a LESBIAN??? no, WAIT! i’m NOT EVEN FEMALE!!! (no shit sherlock! plus you like who you like of any gender!) oh god, not even demi, TOTALLY ACE after all… shiiiiittt… panromantic ace! biromantic ace? PANro and BIro ACE! lolol wtf was i ever even thinking??? OF COURSE i’m a BI (sans ‘romantic’) & PAN (sans ‘romantic’) ACE. but grayro? quoiro? BI-PAN-GRAY-QUOIRO?? ugh, what the fuck ever. i’ll use whichever word(s) whenever it feels right to do so, but QUEER is the one word that has ALWAYS felt right. - Vesper 09/23/2016" ]

I dreamed up a dress! There’s a pink version and a more modest version that has long coat tails and doesn’t show all that leg, but I had to work fast, so I only have this version ready. Scribbled quickly before the images could fade from my mind.

(It was such a cool dream – my characters and my guildies’ characters were fighting demons in Suramar, Dynasty Warriors style! The place was HUGE.)

More BatB Head-canons!

It never says exactly how long the castle was under the curse, but I’m gonna say around three-to-five years or so.  And I can imagine the staff–and the Prince!–had a lot of adjusting to do, most of which ended in clumsy flops.  So, here are a few of my head-canons regarding the first few weeks of the curse on the castle.


  • Adam spent roughly the first week holed up in the West Wing.  He was perpetually angry, scared, and everything in between.  
  • He would rip tapestries to shreds and knock down all of those beautiful objects that he taxed the village for.  In a way, he kind of enjoyed the power that came with his new form.
  • Several times he used the mirror to take him away from his darkened castle, but every time the image faded and showed him his face, he tried to break it.  Enchanted objects don’t break, though.  Ever.
  • He eventually left the West Wing out of hunger.
  • When he did leave, he liked to stamp his feet so that they echoed throughout the halls of the castle.  This indirectly was a warning to the servants that he was out and about.


  • The first time Lumiere found that he could create fire at will was a rather close call as he was near Plumette at the time.  There was no harm done, but he was extra careful for a while after that.
  • He was also the most mobile of the staff, and used this to run through the castle every morning to check on everyone.
  • He made use of swinging from torches and chandeliers as a faster way to travel, but one time one of his candles got lodged in one of the designs in the torch-holders.  He was hanging there for about an hour–which included Froufrou running by and not seeing him–before Chapeau found him and helped.  He thought twice before ever doing it again afterwards.


  • Plumette was a huge clutz during the first few weeks because she had to master flying as opposed to walking like a regular person would.  She couldn’t do that with her tail because the feathers couldn’t support the weight of the handle.  So there were a lot of falls.
  • However, after getting used to it, she found it to be really fun.  After all, who didn’t want to fly when they were a kid?


  • Cogsworth always thought it was his job to keep the staff–particularly Lumiere–in check, but it infuriated him to find that he was a lot slower than most of the staff in his clock form.  He had this idea that the castle would descend into chaos if he wasn’t around to make sure it didn’t.
  • He panicked a lot.  Sometimes for rational reasons, other times for no reason at all.
  • Whenever Adam left the West Wing, he was on high alert, and this was probably the only time the staff would actually listen to him.  But as the years went on, they gradually stopped.


  • Despite the situation they were all in, Chip was the one that remained the most cheerful.  After all, now there were so many new places to hide in!
  • He also found that hopping around all the time was rather tiresome, so he found the saucers and invented a new way of travel that he liked to call plate-gliding.  Though Mrs. Potts nearly had a heart attack when she saw it for the first time.

Mrs. Potts

  • Despite her decreased mobility, Mrs. Potts did not let herself get pessimistic.  She actually got a lot stricter and more motherly with not just Chip, but any other members of the staff that looked like they needed it.
  • She was also the one that left little food portions outside Adam’s door during the first week.  She had always seen herself as a mother figure, so this was the perfect time to finally step in and be a mother figure to Adam, who had been without a mother’s touch for way too long of a time.
  • She was the only one who Adam would actually listen to.  If she gave him the strictest, most condescending tone she could muster, Adam would straighten up and listen.  Worked like a charm every time.


  • The only living thing that outran Lumiere (and Chapeau) in the castle staff was Froufrou.  And that dog ran everywhere.  She could not be contained by anyone except for Garderobe and Cadenza.  And that would have been enough, had the two not been separated.  So the staff only had control over Froufrou for half the time.  The other half was them praying she didn’t break anything.
  • This eventually led to them dog-proofing the castle, and that took longer than any of them cared to admit.  They did add the dog flap, though, and Froufrou did most of her running outside after that.
  • Once Froufrou became familiar with the rest of the staff, she gladly transported any of the slower-moving staff members where they needed to go.  This only worked like 75% of the time, though.
  • Froufrou also found Garderobe before anyone else did, the day after the ball.  Needless to say, she and Cadenza were both overjoyed to hear that the other was safe and okay.  Besides the obvious, anyway.


  • Aside from being cursed and being separated from his wife for heaven knows how long, he was actually okay with the form the Enchantress chose for him.  He could still talk, move around and compose/play music, so for a while that was all he did.  What he really cared about was seeing Garderobe again.
  • He was, however, a little irked that dental pain was still a thing.  It didn’t interfere with his playing before, but now it did, and it was a real annoyance at times.
  • One of the more successful ways of calming Froufrou down was him playing something slow and soothing.  She’d hear it and run over to him, instantly forgetting whatever it was she was doing before.  Sometimes he’d play her to sleep, and the staff got a few hours of time to either clean up or go about whatever they were doing before.


  • Garderobe spent the first few weeks of the curse alone except for visits from Lumiere and Froufrou, sometimes both of them at once.  This was where she got her unusual sleeping schedule.  After a while, singing and talking to herself just grew to be rather tiresome without anyone to listen/accompany her.
  • When she learned she could make dresses with the fabric in her drawers, she made a few for herself to wear if the spell was ever broken, but then decided to make little accessories for the rest of the staff.  Plumette was her model a few times, and the two became great friends because of it. 
An analysis on Prince Adam

The marriage between Adam’s parents has never been a particularly happy one. His father is greedy and selfish and payed little to no attention to his wife and child. The marriage is an arranged one, not made for happiness. Adam’s mother is fierce and loves her son into oblivion. Whenever The Prince gets angry (he has a horrible temper) she nurtures her son who always gets scared when his father yells at him. To make him feel better she holds lavish dinners and balls to distract him from his father’s anger. Adam, of course, also has the servants who help The Princess in raising the boy as his friends. He considers them family. But when his mother dies from a long sickness he loses his whole life. His father, now having more control of his heir, keeps him at his side at all times, trying to make him into the son he wants. God forbid he disappoints him. When he returns from lessons or simply spending time with his father with a new bruise forming his friends bow their heads in shame and say nothing. The Prince feels betrayed by the ones who were supposed to be his protectors, his family, his only friends. His father’s words start to get to him. He’s useless, too soft to rule, too forgiving. He’ll never be enough. From this stems his distaste for other people than himself. He’s learnt the lesson the hard way. No one will ever love you but yourself. For years no one touches him but his father, and those moments are when he is terrified. Simply a brush or look makes him crawl inside his walls and hide in fear.

Keep reading

The T & A room

Women have a special problem. Initially, when any man first sees a glamorous example of femininity, an instantaneous shift takes place. He enters his T & A room.
I don’t mean to say he turns and physically leaves. That would
be very odd; a girl perched prettily on a stool with men spotting her then madly scrambling out and physically diving into their T & A rooms. No.
It’s an event in the mind that crackles at the speed of light. He lays eyes on her and “Bam!” into the T & A room.
You might ask, “Well what exactly is the T & A room?” We’ll get to that.
Just please understand that when Charlie first stands there stunned into silence by the breathtaking beauty before him, he doesn’t really see her.

Oh, he takes an initial snapshot all right, but now he’s rummaging around looking through the shelves labeled “blonde hair”, “high cheekbones”, “very shapely legs” and other stuff, making instantaneous comparisons.
He’s reminiscing through his various recollections of the high school beauty queen, his sister, the girl, who liked him a lot, the girl who he dreamed about, and literally thousands of other loved and cherished memories.
The mound of Playboy and other trashy magazines he had read when younger are also included, of course and are used in making the comparison, this all happening instantaneously.
You have to get an idea of the size of the T & A room. It’s huge, as you might imagine, contains every memory he has ever had that would apply to this particular circumstance, the beauty in front of him.
Now, in a case one or two of you are still wondering what T & A means, let me enlighten you now; T & A stands for temptation and admiration so the T & A room is the Temptation and Admiration room.
If you don’t believe me, just ask anyone. They’ll tell you.
And typically, men spend a great deal of time here happily thumbing through their recollections, smiling and perusing the massive numbers of memories, the shelves and drawers looking for entertainment.
One more thing about the T & A room. It has a door at the far end with a sign which shouts in capital letters, “Restricted Area! Jungian Psychologists Only. All others, enter at your own risk!”
If you open the door it leads down rough stone steps and into darkness, the Collective Unconscious. This is where the Anima lives. This is where the feminine aspects of every man secretly reside. The Anima is, in short, the woman in a man, the archetype which rules over the relationship between men and women. It is a kind of innate guide that leads one through the ambiguous path of meeting the woman and interacting with her. Here we find the Mother archetype, Mother Earth, The Lover, The Sophia or the Wisdom of God from the Gnostic, living beyond the annoying light of the Ego.

The point is that physically attractive ladies have difficulty getting to know men because the men hold them in such high regard, and on such a high pedestal, that they (the men) become tongue-tied and choked on their own adrenaline, and it takes time for the Goddess Image to fade and the human being named Nancy or Katerina to replace it.
So please have patience ladies, he’ll come to his senses. Eventually.

My thanks to Kati Magoon whom I dedicate this paper to. Without her inspiration this effort would never have seen the light of day.
Jon Hassinger, astrological instructor and contributor to Astrolocherry.

I wanted to write a jealous Pynch fic and then I saw someone talking about how they wanted to read a 5+1 jealous Pynch and I kind of stole that idea, so here you go. It’s all set after TRK, except for the first one (no Kavinsy, though, if you’re worried about that).
This is almost 10k words, which makes this the longest fic I’ve ever written, so enjoy I guess.
Mentions of past abuse and internalized homophobia, but it’s nothing big

Ronan Lynch and Adam Parrish are both incredibly complicated beings, not easy to figure out or predict or understand. Really understand. Gansey tried to make sense of who they are as a person, maybe without realizing it. Because he can’t resist a challenge, a puzzle of sorts. It’s the reason he’s so passionate about Glendower. Probably why he surrounds himself with difficult friends, even though he will never truly get them.

Adam and Ronan, though. They’re different together. They do understand each other, because they want to, because they’re more themselves when it’s just the two of them, because you don’t have to hide certain parts of yourself when you know you’ll be accepted anyway.

They don’t take each other’s shit. When Ronan is being an even bigger asshole than he usually is, Adam will call him out on it. When Adam is being unreasonable, Ronan will not hesitate to tell him. And they work.

Anger is something they both struggle with, something that they don’t particularly like about themselves, but which simultaneously means it’s something they share, so they don’t tiptoe around each other, they don’t pretend to be fine, to hide that anger.

They’ve understood each other long before they even realized it.

And they work together.

Anger isn’t the only thing they have in common, though. Jealousy is a feeling that’s so incredibly woven inside them, that it’s now simply a part of them.

Adam Parrish has spent his life dreaming of things he can’t have, carrying water in cupped hands to the shore and ending up with not much at all, but slowly and surely seeing his hole in the sand fill, while surrounding himself with people who have those things without ever having had to work for it. It’s a particular brand of torture, but it’s worth it if it means he’ll be able to call himself one of them some day.

And Ronan Lynch, who’s experienced too many losses a person his age should ever have to go through – his father; his mother’s soul that only existed when his dad was there to breathe the life into it and then it wasn’t just her soul, it was her body too and now he’s officially an orphan at the                    tender age of eighteen and really, he’s just a child, or he feels like one anyway; his glitter loving friend, partner in crime, confident though he never actually told him anything, the creepy fucker who was but a faded image of a person Ronan does not know at all, so did he really? Lose him? Maybe that’s what hurts the most in the end; his best friend and brother whose death were possibly the most antagonizing moments of his existence. No wonder he’s a little territorial. It’s what each of his heartbeats are saying don’t lose anyone else, I wouldn’t be able to take it.

So, really, the jealous feelings that arise when they officially become a thing (and even before that), shouldn’t come as a surprise.



Keep reading

TOG6 Ending Imagine (WARNING: EOS Spoilers!)

As we all know, SJM is the Queen of Foreshadowing. That got me thinking - has she been foreshadowing the end since the beginning?

Rewind to the scene where young Aelin is with Marion at her parent’s estate. Marion realises that Aelin is the brightest hope for a future that their world has and so she sacrifices herself to defend her.

What if Aelin was pregnant when Maeve took her - or perhaps becomes pregnant at some point in TOG6? What if she sees her baby and realises the kind of world she will grow up in - full of death, terror and with Erawan constantly hanging over their heads?

What if, after her daughter is born, Aelin finally understood why Marion did what she did and realises that her sacrifice was not worthless? That sometimes, there is something worth dying for, worth giving up her future with Rowan and their child for.


Aelin looks at her daughter, the future of their world, and turns to whoever is nearby to utter the words which she has carried for years but which suddenly she understands in a way she thought she never could.

“Tell my daughter… tell her I love her very much. And I’m sorry that I won’t see her grow up. Tell her that I gave her the world - that I gave her a future.”

With that, Aelin wipes her eyes and holds her daughter close before handing her away for the last time. She is no longer the last heir of Terrasen. There are no loose ends.

With that, Aelin grasps the Eye of Elena and the three Wyrdkeys. With a roar that sets the world trembling, she pours everything she has - every last drop of magic, each fragment of being - into the Lock.

She feels herself becoming empty, hollow and is truly afraid. She panics, fighting against the darkness threatening to consume her. She falls to the ground, gasping and shuddering as the last remnants of her power are ripped from her.

She lies there, barely conscious but still holding on. She truly fears the darkness, fears seeing the faces of all those she killed over the years condemn her. She can feel her body growing lighter, lighter and she struggles against what she knows is inevitable.

Images flicker before her eyes - her parents and uncle, smiling and laughing; Aedion, the boy and the man; Evangeline shrieking with laughter as Lysandra shifted between forms for her amusement. She sees Sam smile, frozen forever at eighteen, and the vulpine smile of her former master. She sees the brooding Captain of the Guard and the mischievous, sapphire eyed prince; she sees the healer with golden brown eyes she met once, long ago.

She sees the silver hair and bright green eyes of her beloved. Sees his smile, his voice, his laughter which are woven into the very thread of her being. He is what she most hates to leave behind - next to their daughter.

Her daughter. She has known her for barely a few days but already she loves her so much that she thinks it might set the world ablaze. She knows that Rowan will protect her and guide her - truly, she couldn’t leave if she didn’t know that she would have him to love her enough for both of them. She knows that Rowan will tell her all about her mother - Aelin hopes very much that she’ll understand why she did such terrible things over the years, that she won’t be judged too harshly.

The final image Aelin Ashryver Galathynius sees is not one of her memories. Perhaps it is imagination, perhaps a gift of prophecy from one of the gods to ease her mind.

A beautiful woman with stunning Ashryver eyes and flowing silver hair stood in the throne room of Orynth. Before her was the antler throne, the one Aelin has not seen for ten years, that her ancestors ruled from. The woman had a faint smile on her face as she looked to her right. Her father, his green eyes ambivalent with sadness and joy, held the antler crown aloft before settling it gently on her head. From several feet away, her court - the court her mother built for her, a court to change the world - looked on.

The young woman took a deep breath before slowly ascending the steps and turning to face the court. She sat on her throne, the throne she was born for, as shouts of Long live the queen! resounded throughout the hall.

She was strong and wise and powerful. She would bring peace and prosperity to her lands - to her people - for a thousand years.

Aelin smiles as the image faded from her view. A gift - truly a gift to know that she had succeeded. She had given the world its saviour.

She feels herself slipping away but she no longer fights it. She knows now that she was not being claimed by the darkness but rather becoming one with the light. And she was ready. She was grateful for the time she had.

Her name was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius - and she was not afraid.

my heart has been set free from the cage it was previously locked in and my god, let me tell you, walking away from what destroyed you, feels so good. see, it took so long. so much valiant effort. so much pain. the cage was stained red with my blood. i tried to shrink myself down, fit through the lock, squeeze my way out. i tried everything possible and it never worked. i would rattle the bars until my hands were numb, id scream and beg for help and gave up when my voice left me along with my happiness. until one day i sang the song my heart had been dying to sing for so long. the truth. and it set me free. i expressed how i felt, i screamed about my heartbreak, i felt the pain, i cried it all out. and the cage is no longer restraining, but merely a fading image of what i once was confined in. i am free to fly now. and i have flown so far away that happiness comes far easier to me now and it feel so good. letting go feels so damn good.

‘have not, hear not, see not’ - a perception spell

perfect for anyone with someone that has left their life and moved on. sometimes it’s not even that you want them back, you just want to stop being irritated by observing them and their new partners, friends, etc. (insp. stardust)

light three candles of any color (i used black cause i associate it with cleansing and purifying) 

say: look upon them though i may

        my feelings intact will stay 

visualize the people in question then try to fade the image out of your mind

say: even if they stand before me

        i shall not see their love

blow out the first candle 

       feel it 

blow out the second candle

       or hear it

blow out the third candle 

as i say these words so mote them be

i am free

my heart is my own 

(i hope this works for anyone who tries :) magic always has room for personalization add and take away whatever you see fit. )

Beauty and The Beasts Part III

Summary: A new character appears and he’s rather… odd. A/N: sorry it took so long you guys… it’s long though and I think it’s better than part 2 was. ————————–

Guests were uncommon in Loki’s castle, and most of the time his ‘guests’ were people he tortured because they owed him something and took too long to pay up. Lady Y/N also had the joy of cleaning his torture devices when he was done. Every Wednesday afternoon however, Y/N received an hour of solitude in her bedchamber while Loki visited with what he called a business partner. She usually spent that hour writing her thoughts down and hiding the papers under her mattress.

This week was a bit different, though.

It was Tuesday and Lady Y/N was cleaning dust off of some of Loki’s enchanted items, when all of a sudden the door burst open and a man with messy, brown hair and a big black coat entered the room. He was carrying a velvet looking top hat. Loki, who had been at his spinning wheel in the corner looked up and stood from his spot, striding toward the newcomer.

“You aren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.” He stated stopping in front of the man. He only grinned and glanced at Lady Y/N.

“Something came up.” He said. “Who’s the help?” She tried to shy away from his gaze, but he only kept watching her, Loki stepped in front of his gaze so he was forced to look back at him.

“She does not matter in this moment.” Loki said. “Do you have what I asked for, James?” The man, James, raised his top hat and reached inside, pulling out a small satchel. Loki took it from his hand and looked inside. “All six of them are here?” James nodded and tried to look back at Lady Y/N. “You may take as much gold as you deem fit.” Loki seemed to not care about anything James did, now that he had what he wanted. James walked over to the pile of gold that Loki had previously made on the floor and began stuffing it into his hat.

“Shall I make some tea, Sir Loki?” Lady Y/N asked. Without glancing back at her Loki answered.

“No, James won’t be staying much longer anyway.”

“Who decided that?” James voice startled Lady Y/N, he had snuck up and was standing directly behind her. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “James Barnes is the name, Portal Jumping’s the game. I also, make hats.” He released her hand and she blushed.

“M-my name is Y/N Rogers.” She said, James’ eyes widened.

“As in the princess, Y/N Rogers?” He turned toward Loki, whose face quickly darkened, for an answer. James quickly returned his gaze to Y/N and she gave a minute nod, he grinned like a cheshire cat.

“Small One,” Loki called to her, pulling her gaze away from the hatter. “Would you please make your way to your quarters.” With only another nod she left the Grand Hall, but stopped outside the doors because she head Loki speak again. She was out of sight but not of earshot. “Listen closely, Hatter, she is not a play thing-”

“Is that why you’ve been hiding her from me?” James’ voice cut him off. “Do you have feelings for the Princess?” James was mocking him. “Has The Dark One gone soft?” James’ laugh rang throughout the hall. “I had heard you won a maiden by saving Rogers’ kingdom, I didn’t care to ask about her, but seeing that you’ve taken the one thing he loved more than his wife, well now I’m interested.”

“You shouldn’t be. She is none of your concern.” Loki seemed upset, almost furious, meanwhile James stayed nonchalant and amused.

“So you do care for her.” It was more of a statement than a question, but Lady Y/N waited anxiously for a response, for some reason she wanted to know if Loki did care for her. Then she heard Loki scoff.

“No, but she is the best… help, I have ever had here.” Y/N, was hurt, and she didn’t know why. “I think it is time you leave Hatter. I will send for you if I need your help again.”

“Don’t worry Dark One, I think we will be seeing each other again very soon.” There was an odd whirring sound, and then silence.

“You can come out now, Small One.” Loki’s voice startled her and Lady Y/N released a small gasp. Not sure of what else she could do, she slowly reentered the grand hall with her head hung low. Like a child caught doing something they shouldn’t have. Looking around she noticed James had disappeared. “You can get back to work now.”

Loki left the hall, leaving Lady Y/N to her duties, but more importantly to her thoughts. Why had she felt hurt when Loki answered the Hatter? She was only his servant, nothing more, and he was The Dark One, why would he care about her anyway? Perhaps she was overthinking….

The next few weeks were odd, Loki had seemed to distance himself from her. Before the incident with the Hatter, they enjoyed pleasant conversation and now he was back to only giving her jobs to do and thanking her for doing them. Lady Y/N started to feel lonely again, and thought of escaping more and more every day. She never left though, for some reason, she felt she couldn’t. It was as though there was something she had to do here.

One evening, while she was consumed with boredom, Lady Y/N lay on her bed and thought of her father and mother. What were they doing right now? Were they even alive? She decided she was tired of the silence between her and The Dark One. Determined, Lady Y/N made her way down to the grand hall where Loki was spinning straw as usual. She slowed her strides and approached him calmly.

“I wish to ask you something.” She stated. He looked up at her with a furrowed brow.

“Then ask, Small One.” Her face seemed to flush, for some reason she had lost confidence, but she brought forth her question.

“I wish to know of my family.” Loki’s eyes went rather wide with surprise. Lady Y/N hadn’t spoken of her family since she had first arrived. “I want to know if they are alive.”

Loki could see something in her eyes, she was lonely, angry, anxious, and she showed not only those but many other emotions in her eyes. And for some reason, he understood them all. He felt them when he thought of the brother he was sure hated him. Loki stood from his spinning stool and went over to one of the many pedestals that held his enchanted items. He picked up a small mirror and brought it to Lady Y/N, who now held a look of confusion. Without a word he held the mirror in front of her showing her reflection. Her gaze went from the mirror to Loki as he moved his free hand slowly over the mirror. Her reflection began to waver and suddenly Lady Y/N was not the one in the mirror, it was now her father.

King Steven was standing over a table looking at a map and giving orders to knights. Loki watched as Lady Y/N’s eyes followed the king’s movements, some small amount of joy filled her irises when she saw her mother stand next to the king. Again the images wavered and faded, showing only the Lady’s reflection.

“You may keep the mirror.” Loki stand placing it in her hands. She smiled, and wiped at her now glistening eyes, murmuring a thank you. “Please make continue on with your duties now.” She nodded and placed the mirror on the table to take care of it later. Loki walked around the room inspecting some of his possessions.

“It’s… It’s very dark in here, may I open the curtains?” She asked. Loki only nodded. She made her way over to the latter used to get books off the higher shelves and pushed it toward the window. Cautiously she climbed up and began pulling on the curtains, but she slipped.

With a yelp, Lady Y/N fell from the latter. She braced for impact - closing her eyes tight - but it never came. When she opened her eyes she was met with Loki’s soft gaze. It was never soft, usually it was icy, but now it was as though she was looking into a softly flowing stream. Her arms rested around his neck and shoulders while he held her close. Gently, he set her down but she did not remove herself from him completely.

“Thank you.” It came out as a whisper, but he understood it. Loki seemed to have something to say, but instead of saying it he cleared his throat.

“That will be all for today. You may retire to your room.” Lady Y/N said nothing and looked toward the floor as she made her way out, grabbing the magic mirror as she left.





Originally posted by captaincentenarian