iron burns


Mind Chess Battle

I can’t even play proper chess game on a board. How the heck they remember all the positions on the chessboard?? Is this a normal thing for smart people??

Though I’m really impressed with people who are actually good at playing chess. Looks so damn cool and very…intellectual. *goes off to play chess with computer*

On OBSABH chapter 2- the angsty bits

Viktor, sweetheart, what have you done?  (AKA the drawbacks of being an optimist)- part 2

(Part 1 has the happy bits and part 3 has the rest of the angst)

So after my post about the happy, positive, optimistic bits of Viktor in chapter 2 of OBSABH I said I might try to post about the sadder bits.  The angsty bits, if you will.  The bits where you read it and wish Viktor had listened to the voice of reason inside his head and done something different, instead of listening to… other, less rational parts of his anatomy.  So here goes! (Turns out I do indeed ramble too much so this is going to be in 2 parts.)

I’m going to do bullet points because that might make me be more concise (hopefully)

After the Olympics

  • Viktor has the very sensible thought that ‘After getting yelled at for several minutes straight, regardless of whether he could understand the words or not, Viktor was pretty sure that the worst of Yuuri’s animosity towards him probably hadn’t died down like he had begun to think’.  Hold that thought, Viktor.  It’s correct.  Ignore it at your peril.
  • Yuuri was drunk and not in any state to be answering questions so Viktor resigned himself to living in confusion for a little while longer’.  Or to put it another way:  Viktor condemned himself to living in confusion, and also pain, for a few more years. Maybe Viktor should have just asked Yuuri why he hates him so much.  Once Yuuri had got back to speaking English, he may well actually have got some sort of a useful answer out of him.  He knows that Yuuri’s negative feelings towards him had been on his mind, because of the drunken Japanese yelling, so that could imply that Yuuri wants to talk about it.  But at the same time, would that have been a bit immoral?  I mean, Yuuri was drunk, so would asking him be taking advantage of his lowered inhibitions?

Cut here… it’s getting so long already

Keep reading

The fae

Living in Ireland I heard many stories about the fae.About they’re kind nature, the peaceful woodland spirits, playful tricksters, or even malicious beings.

Here I will give some ways to appease them, and ward them. I will also tell about dangerous fae and how to ward them.


In Ireland children were told to keep away from fairy mounds, fairy circles, certain places in the woods, certain trees, and some strange places. Fairy mounds can be identified as strange lone hills, often found in odd place. Fairy circles are mushroom circles. They are a naturally occurring pattern, however they are believed to be portals the their realm. And stepping in one may be dangerous. Steer clear of certain trees. It is believed that fae live in them, and if disturbed they would not be happy. Notable trees to stay away from include hazel, thorn, alder, and oak. An example of a strange place would be strange rock formations in a field, and that if disturbed or moved would upset the fae who made them.

Farmers didn’t go to their mill or barns at night. It was believed that the fae used the cover of darkness to grind their grain. Disturbing them while they worked could result in you having a failed crop or other curses.

Certain bodies of water were said to be the homes of kelpies, Corrigans, and other water fae. If you came to these waters alone, you could be pulled in, or lured to your deaths (corrigans are said to beautiful creatures that lure you to your death, were they drown you.) They would drown their victims, forcing their spirits to live in the fae realm forever.


Certain flowers such as primroses, were layed on the windowsills and hung over doors. This ensured that he house was kept safe from the fae.

Garlands were made from marsh marigolds. These were placed over the barn doors. This protected the horses from being ridden to death by the fae.

However, the most notable flower to protect yourself against the fae is St. John’s Wort. Wearing this flower provided the wearer protection from fairy magic and tricks. Sometimes my grandmother would scatter petals around the outside of the house, to try to provide protection.

Some said holly berries would repel them. (Unknown why. Unlike the others I was never told this. Maybe someone could clarify.)

A four-leafed clover would allow you to see the fae, even through their glamours, or invisibility. However, this would only work once. An old tradition was to sew them into clothing, or even a little bag (this is to be worn round the neck, though some say it just has to be held) this allowed the user to see them for every clover they had sewn.

Though these are quite nice forms of protection, iron is always the best form of protection. Many believe that iron burns the fairy. Some legends say that the crafted their weapons out of silver and gold because they couldn’t use the iron. If you kept an iron nail in your pocket the fae would be unable to take you to their realm. Often iron knives, sheers, and other sharp object were hung over or near the crib of a baby. This was to prevent the baby from being stolen and swapped with a changling child. ( I don’t recommend doing this as it could be dangerous to the baby.) Sometimes horseshoes, nails, or arrowheads would be placed over doors to stop fae from entering the house or room. An iron ring was worn to protect people, it was told that the fae could not go near the person who wears it.


To be protected from them, and to even form a relationship with the fae; one must respect them, trust them, and leave offerings for them.

Leaving bread and milk out for them was said to protect the household that did it. It was also believed that one may gain their favour by doing this. This is also a notable way of appeasing the cat síth. Not only do they like bread and milk, they also like butter, cream, sugar, ale, honey, whiskey, and I find that they like dark chocolate.

If you’re crossing a body of water, or passing by a well you may drop a piece of silver in, or a coin in for the fae that lives in it.

Ever here the saying that if you spill salt you should throw some over your right shoulder? Well that applies to the fae. If salt is spilled one may throw some over their right shoulder so that the fae can have their share.

Many of the nicer variety were insulted when they saw human mortals lacking in hospitality to one another and treating each other badly. It’s was said that they would punish people like this very harshly. However, if you were kind and honest to people they were said to treat you nicely, or leave you be.


corrigans- A form of water sprite. They appear as beautiful beings who sing melodies like sirens. They mostly appear at night on a full moon. In sunlight they’re glamour goes away and their true ugly form is revealed. stay clear of bodies of water and the woods
Dullahan- The headless horseman. He is seen often in the country riding a dead horse with eyes like fire. He often has a whip made out of a spine. He roams the countryside looking for the dead. If you see him he is said to slash your eyes with his whip. Gold is said to ward them for a while.
Amadan Dubh- VERY DANGEROUS. The trickster fae. He’s a madman. Often seen dancing on lone hills to ghostly music. Cannot be reasoned with. He can place powerful, harmful curses on people. I do not know of any ways to ward him. (Maybe someone can clarify?)
Alp-luarcha- If you think it has crawled in your throats after falling asleep at a stream or other body of water, eat salted food. This will make it thirsty, and make it leave.
Bean sídhe or banshee- The only thing I know of is an iron ring, though when a person is dying nothing can keep her away as she wails.
Cat síth- it loiters around graveyards and open graves to steal the souls of those who have recently died. To try to distract it one may try dancing, singing, or telling riddles. This gives time for the souls of the deceased to pass on so that it cannot get them. I was also told that on Halloween (Samhain) a saucer of milk should be left out, this will provide good luck and protection, while those that didn’t would be cursed. If you are ever filled with a sense of dread and see a black cat with a tuff of white fur walk away slowly and then place a saucer of milk outside, then pray that this will be enough to appease it.
Boggart- It’s a malicious form of fae that takes over houses. Somewhat like a poltergeist. They cannot be reasoned with, and any attempts to appease them will annoy them. They don’t like holy water, crosses, iron, or agrimony. However, sometimes an exorcism is necessary. A family friend had to get this once.
Changling- To stop a child from being swapped keep a close eye on them, put them in a warm well lit room, stitching red thread in baby clothes and blankets was said to prevent them from being swapped, as well as hanging iron sheers or knives over the crib, or having them close by.
I hope this helps. If you have any questions or any clarifications feel free to message me.

Unpopular Opinion::

I don’t want Aelin to save herself from Maeve and the Iron Coffin.

Book after book after book, we have seen Aelin pull herself out of some pretty hairy situations and always be her own champion, which is great. She is strong and defiant and that’s what makes her such an incredible character.

However, EoS is largely about her learning to trust others to carry the load, to un-clench her hands from the wheel and let others help or trust them to risk their lives to complete whatever mission.

We’ve SEEN Aelin pull herself out of the jaws of death, with and without Rowan giving a little nudge… I think it’s time we see Aelin’s court come for her and save her. Not a nudge to put her over the edge, a full-on rescue to show they are her equals.

On the one hand, she’s the Fire-Breathing Bitch Queen, Heir of Mala Firebringer and Annoyer of the Goddess Dianna, and I think she will burn that Iron Coffin to silver from the inside out.

But on the other hand, I think it’d be nice if instead of Aelin handling it solo, her inner circle could more directly show her they are just as dangerous as she is and break her out in some daring plan that would make her proud.

Aelin will get her time in the limelight when she burns through Erawan and Maeve, so it’d be nice for her Inner Circle to have the win too and make her proud. It’s time for Aelin to play a role she never has before: damsel in distress.

Just a thought.

I’ve always been good at overthinking.
The machinery in my head is constantly turning and when I try to shut it off, the hot iron material burns my hands. So I let things continue and the sounds become louder. The same words repeat over and over again: ERROR, ERROR, ERROR. There is an error in my system and the hardware is malfunctioning, but I can’t stop. I can’t stop thinking and the oil from the machines is leaking. Soon enough, it will set fire to my head.

I’ve always been good at hiding.
Even my mother can’t find me sometimes. She’ll search for me in every room of our house, not realizing that I’m following in her shadow. I feel sorry for her, but she’s the one who taught me how to blend in. How to mold my edges and become someone else. How to be the perfect daughter, the one all her peers praise, but deep down don’t care about.

I’ve always been good at miscommunication.
My father doesn’t talk much, but sometimes I get the feeling that he’s speaking to me without words. His eyes always flicker so bright and the furrow that forms between his eyebrows is prominent. When he meets my gaze and his lips curl, I try not to flinch. It’s a smile you will never understand the meaning of. I learned from him best, how to make my silence feel like a thunderstorm, but he never taught me how to control it. I’ve wrecked places and left people homeless.

I’ve always been good at pretending.
My friends are the best audience any actor could ever ask for. They remember that it’s all a show and none of it is real. So when I bruise myself, the concept that I will forget and move on in an hour or so is something that is commonly understood. Nobody ever expects me to actually get hurt. Nobody ever expects a plot twist. I hope that the day I betray them, they don’t get too angry.

I’ve always been good at empathizing.  
Tell me your problems and I’ll make them my own. Tell me your imperfections and I’ll give you pieces of myself, if you want them. Tell me you’re lonely and I’ll be at your doorstep. God, I’ll crush my own heart between my palms if you asked me to. I’ll do anything to make anybody happy, even if it brings my own doom. I am a tragedy.

—  Some of us are written by Shakespeare 
The Elsewhere Child

He was supposed to take my memories when he brought me here, the seelie knight, who had been commanded to escort me home with a simple “take it away, it’s too old now and it bores me” from the noble who had kept me for the past while. I traded him my singing voice for them though, and now where once sweet music poured from my lips only hoarse and untuned notes fall out without any of the tempo or melody they had before. Now I think I made a bad trade. It might have been better, if I didn’t remember, or remembered something else entirely.

I stare at the boy next to me in the circle, I was asked to join this circle as a way to make me feel part of something, part of a circle. They call the circle a support group for abducted children. Children who were abducted and got away, that is, I don’t think there’s a support group for those currently abducted. Their abductors wouldn’t allow them to attend, I suppose. The boy is speaking about the man who touched him, speaking of the horrible way he loved that man, because he was a child, and he had to love someone. Are his memories true? Or is he like me? Did a faerie take him away, and replace the memories from Under the Hill with these tragedies? Why? Did he commit some crime? I cannot say.

I am fascinated by the girl who sits next to the girl directly across from me in the circle. She tells us to call her Angie. She wears ratty clothes, not the sort of poor chic that seems to be an underlying trend, with jackets made of patches and ribbed cloth sold at malls, but real grunge. The tears in her sleeves reveal razor scars, her hair is short, she wants to look tough, she wants people to cross the street to get away from her when they see her coming. She is not tough. She is nervous, always nervous, always afraid, though she hides it well. None of these things are too interesting to me, those things I can see anywhere, but I thought context would be important so that the fact that she’s a pathological liar would not be the only thing you knew about her.

She is a pathological liar.

Her lies fascinate me.

After group chat, I take her aside and we talk, sometimes just for a few minutes, sometimes for hours, and I watch her fabricate thousands of untruths, from tiny white ones to huge fantastical ones as bright and colorful as her life has never been. Some days, I believe everything she says and some days I question each word, trying to figure out her secret.

It’s a strange thing, I was taken before I really knew my name, and each faerie that’s kept me (I was a pet for them) called me something different. Do I even have a true name? I’ve been Jane Doe since I showed up, stumbling barefoot and confused into a police station moments after midnight (at least the knight knew to leave me near a place of authority), so I’ve been introducing myself as Roe, like the deer. They ran my DNA through the missing children’s database (I didn’t understand what that was at first, was shocked at how closely humans had approximated magic with computers), but there was no match. I told them I didn’t know how long ago I’d been abducted, and suggested that it might have been before the database was made. They laughed and said I was eighteen, and DNA technology had been around much longer than me. I tried to explain that time was different where I had been kept, but they simply patted me on my head and told me they were sure that it seemed that way to me at the time.

They stared at me worriedly when one of them brought me a McDonald’s Happy Meal, and I asked what she wanted for it. She told me nothing. No one here ever asks for anything besides courtesy in return for their food, but old habits are hard to break. Even now, in my foster home, I cannot help insisting that my hosts confirm that this food is a gift freely given. They asked me to help them cook and I broke down in tears because there was a cast iron skillet on the stove (“Please don’t make me, iron burns, iron burns, and it gets under your skin and makes you go grey and lifeless like a flower severed from its roots, plea-please, please don’t make me”). It took them an hour to convince me that they weren’t trying to force me to poison myself, and the food burned (“I said I would help you, you asked me to cook and I agreed, but, but please don’t make me, it burns, it’ll burn me!” “It’s alright darling, you don’t have to cook if you don’t want to.” “But I said I would! It was an oath!” “We’re sorry, we wouldn’t have asked if we’d known it would upset you, you can help some other way if you like.” “You… absolve me of my oath?” “Yes, of course we do darling!”).

I am more comfortable with iron now, I am not one of the Fair Folk, after all, it will not harm me. Correction, a blade of iron would harm me, but not because it was made of iron. It does, however, mess with my glamor.

It is a difficult thing, growing up bathed in magic and yet to have none of your own. A pixie once spoke of how she envied my hair, and I said, on impulse, “do you want it?” So a trade was made. She gave me the ability to change my appearance, and she walked away with my hair. I expected my hair to grow back after a time though… it did not. With my glamor I can have the appearance of having whatever hair I please, and sometimes I change it daily, but when I sleep or when iron is near my bare head is revealed. It is assumed by my hosts and everyone around me that I have many wigs, I have told them I do not, but they don’t believe in magic, so they insist on believing this instead.

I hide when I hear thunder, duck into a bathroom and put everything on backward and inside out if I’m in public, or simply sit quiet if I’m home. The first time I did this, it shook me to my core when someone told me “You know, your shirt is on backward.” I started to panic, until I realized that I could see myself too. It was a revelation, discovering that there was something humans could see that the Good Neighbors couldn’t.

It still boggles my mind how much people throw away, tears and menstrual blood caught on napkins, or gifts from that one aunt that they held onto for so long for the sentimental value but can’t keep now because they have to move into a smaller apartment, or the shirt they can’t wear anymore because it smells like their ex. They could trade these items to faeries for so many things, and yet they simply throw them away. What a waste.

My hosts insisted I should have a proper education, and after three years of homeschooling (to get me caught up) I applied to attend the local state college. There I found more people who fascinate me the way Angie does. There’s Lisa, who fights for animal rights, and Kyle, the leader of the Gay Straight Alliance group, and Riley, who’s going into the Peace Corps next year because they want to help the world. I ask them all the time why they do what they do, what they expect to get back, and they tell me that ideally they’ll make the world a better place, and that will pay them back eventually, but that they don’t do it for what they’ll get back, they do it because it’s right. I don’t understand. There’s Cheyenne, who always gets into intense political debates with other people over dinner in the cafeteria, and she believes so intensely about things that don’t even affect her, and she fights for them, and she tells me she does this because it’s right, and I don’t understand. I’ve never met anyone who cared about anything other than themselves Under the Hill. Faeries can’t lie, they can’t go back on their word, they honor their deals and make sure you honor them too, they repay debts and ensure they’re repaid in turn, they amuse themselves playing or squabbling over power, but they do not do things for free. They don’t care about things for free. They don’t defend the innocent, protect the weak, or forgive the ignorant. The culture shock coming here is bewildering.

If I could I’d honor my debts, leave a pile of gold at the doorstep of everyone who’s done me a kindness, but I have not the magic to do so. The drainage ponds hold no sirens, the falling snow has no frolicking pixies between its flakes, there is no magic for me to use here… or is there?

Perhaps I can’t call upon the magic Under the Hill, perhaps I can’t summon gold or make deals with darklings, but I can find magic here, I’ve seen others do it. I’ve seen a moon so beautiful it sends shivers down your spine captured by a little lense-box and put onto thick shiny paper. I’ve seen songs and stories written with such emotion that it moves those who hear them to tears, to laughter, to dancing, to life. I’ve seen kitchen witches cure colds with hot chicken soup, and I’ve seen holy men ward off tricksters they can’t even see with the power of their belief.

Perhaps I can find a way to create my own magic, and do what other people seem to strive to do to repay their debts. Perhaps I can make the world a better place, and learn the magic of humanity. And as for the places where magic does live? Where the boundary between worlds is thin and the drainage ponds and snowflakes carry faerie magic within? …I think I’ll be staying far away, for my part. I might still have a lot to learn, but I think I like it better here.

Thought: Altean Lance AU where the first thing he sees is Hunk peering at the cryopods, trying to figure out what and who happens to be in them, while Pidge messes around with the controls (and not actually affecting much, because Allura’s not awake yet), Keith, still in his Marmoran armour (there’s no way he’d just been a rank and file Galran soldier), is watching with narrowed eyes and suddenly having a Bad Feeling, and Shiro is herding pilots like they’re cats.

Hunk and Lance actually hit it off right away. As Allura and Coran start waking up, Hunk’s telling Lance about how they found the Yellow Lion on Earth, and no, they’re Human, what’s an Altea - oh, yeah, and Keith’s with them, don’t worry about him-

Except, Allura, Lance and Coran do worry about Keith. Keith ends up pinned on the floor by an Allura who’s still reeling from the loss of her planet and people and this Galran is in breathing space of her BROTHER

Shiro ends up being the one to calm everyone down. Because Hunk is now panicking and Pidge isn’t being helpful because she’s torn between not wanting things to deteriorate but also she doesn’t exactly like the fact that they’re working with a Galra, even if he says he’s on their side. Lance is staring at everyone, feeling sort of shaken up and betrayed because that’s a Galran oh quiznak that’s a Galran on the Castle and he hadn’t even noticed

And then it turns out that Keith is, somehow, able to explain to the Alteans present that half the reason he’s here is that he has the Blue Lion. In his ship. Which is parked not far away, thank you.

Keith, who the others point out helped them in their firefight against the Galran cruiser while leaving Earth.

Allura deigns to accept - read: tolerate - Keith’s presence on the Castle, but she does continue to keep a close eye on him, and Lance starts. Poking at the guy. Because seriously, things are bad and all, but Lance just doesn’t have the negative energy to stay mad and angry like Allura does. Even though some of the things he says in what becomes known as their ‘rivalry’ can tend on the ‘oh, uh, that was a bit harsh’ side. 

(Because in this version, if Lance isn’t on Earth, the Blue Lion doesn’t respond. Therefore to fix this gaping plot hole, Hunk ends up finding the Yellow Lion instead, through somewhat more complicated circumstances. The Blade of Marmora already knew where Blue was canonically, so here they still do, even if she’s not on Earth. And Keith, being the hot-head he is… probably took more action than most of them would have appreciated.

And for a rough idea as to what Keith’s ship here looks like: 

That’s the size of Rolo and Nyma’s cargo/smuggling ship. I’d say Keith’s is a bit like that, given he’d want to appear unimportant to anyone just doing a general scan. And he probably didn’t plan ahead what he was going to do with it.

The ship stays in one of the Castle’s hangars, just because there’s no point wasting a good ship, even when all of Lance, Shiro, Pidge, Hunk and Keith still (never mind if Allura likes it or not) get a Lion.)
Irreparable - Chapter 12 - aslightstep - The Avengers (Marvel Movies) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

So I was kinda hesitant to go ahead and post this chapter. I still am. It’s been rough writing the story again, refamiliarizing myself with the story, but I’m pushing ahead because I always had big plans for this story. The chapter’s not perfect, but I’m mostly proud of it. 

Anyway, it’s half of the chapter I intended to post, but that one was just getting way too big. This chapter is more of a set up than anything, and there is a lot of talking. Some loose ends wrapped up, new stories beginning. I hope y’all like it.


People can’t be fixed. If they could, Tony would have done so for himself a long time ago and saved everyone a lot of pain. He wishes he could. It terrifies him, but he does. He tries. He builds suits to fly farther, punch harder, last longer. Artificial intelligences with strict codes to keep him from going too far. He surrounds himself with machines, science, and hopes it can do the impossible and help him be better, but at the end of the day, all he is left with is himself.

He wonders if Barnes even has that.


Hartford Courant, Connecticut, May 14, 1922

To dream of:

Ice - Success
Idiot - Grief
Illumination - Poverty and worry
Images - Bad luck
Inheritance - Death of a relative
Ink - Spilling ink, breaking an engagement of separation from a friend; dreaming of ink in any other way a favorable omen
Insanity - to dream of insanity of some other person, grief; to dream of yourself becoming insane, assurance of a long life
Intoxication - Increase of fortune, recovery of health
Inundation - Sadness, sickness
Iron - Profits; if burning hot, sorrows
Island - Desertion
Itch - Good luck
Ivy - True friends
Janitor - Beware of gossip
Jaundice - Beware of treachery 
Jaws - Sickness
Jay - Sorrow and trouble
Jewelry - Trouble and danger
Judge - Beware of slander and malice
Kettle - To dream of a black kettle means death
Keys - Anger, worry, want
Killing - Killing a person is generally a bad omen, foretells distress, and even death; to kill some one else, worry over enemies
King - Beware of flattery and cheatery 
Kiss - Kissing a relative, beware of treason; kissing a hand of a person, friendship, good fortune; kissing a stranger, journey
Knee - Being wounded in the knee, disappointment, worry; kneeling down to a person, trouble; unable to use the knee, poverty, bad news; sore or painful knee, sickness
Knife - Quarrel, separation; if you dream of a knife wounding you, danger
Labyrinth - You will make a great discovery
Ladder - Climbing a ladder, success; descending a ladder, great loss and trouble, ruin
Lake - Clear water, fortells friends; muddy or agitated water, quarrels
Lamb - Good luck
Lame - Trouble, sickness
Lantern - Success
Larks - Alive, good luck; roasted
Laudanum - Misfortune
Laugh - worry and loss
Laundry work - You will have to work running over one, worry
Lawyer - Quarrels, troubles, losses, hard for other people
Lawn - Gazing upon one, good health; trouble, imprisonment 
Lead - Inheritance 
Leaves - Sickness
Legs - Journey, success, money; wooden legs, bad luck
Letter - Visit by a friend or good news
Letter carrier - Important news
Light - To see in a drea, a great light is an omen, great honors and riches are in store for you; it predicts success in love, happy married life, blessed with children
Lightning - Love quarrels
Limping - Business troubles
Linen - Riches 
Lion - Seeing one, you will find some new good friend or make an acquantice of one soon; killing or laming the lion, great success; seeing a lioness with young, domestic happiness
Liquor - Riches
Lizards - Danger
Lobster - Alive, success; cooked, joy
Locomotive - Unpleasant journey
Lottery - Loss and failure 
Magician - Beware of treachery
Man - A girl dreaming of man; beware of gossip; if he is plain or ugly, quarrel; clear trouble and loss of money 
Manure - Great financial luck
Marble - Inheritance 
Marriage - With a relative, danger; with a handsome person, joy; with a plain or ugly looking person, sorrow
Masquerade - Seeing one, beware of deception; taking part in one, success
Mass - To dream of attending mass denotes happiness
Matches - Riches
Meadow - Comfort and prosperity 
Meat - Pleasure and prosperity 
Medicine - Taking it, sickness, distress; administering it to someone else, profit 
Menagerie - You will enjoy true friendship
Melon - Good health; if the dreamer is a sick person, it denotes a speedy recovery
Mending clothes and stockings - Unhappiness 
Merchandise - Seeing a great amount of it piled up, beware of thieves
Merchant - Meeting some merchant of importance, success
Message - Receiving one, advance in life
Mice - Trouble
Mill - Success, riches, inheritance 

i-still-dont-like-your-face  asked:

For the prompt list? 11. with Bucky, please?

11. “You set me on fire!”- Bucky Barnes

Working as the Avengers engineer always kept you very busy. If you weren’t helping Tony with his suits, then you were designing weapons for Natasha, or creating new and improved arrows for Clint. But your favourite team member to work with, was the infamous Winter Soldier. Since the split of the Avengers, and the subsequent reformation, you’d been making repairs on Bucky’s arm every time it malfunctioned or broke down, and honestly you loved every minute of it.

Slipping the final arrow into the quiver, you let out a sigh of relief at having finally finishing the arduous task. You’d been working on new arrows for Clint all morning and had been suffering from a headache for the last half an hour. A knock on the glass door caused your to swivel in your chair, wiping the back of your arm across your forehead, unbeknownst to you creating a smudge of grease. 

“Hey Doll.” Bucky’s gruff voice called out into the empty workshop, instantly bringing a smile to your tired face. 

“Bucky, hey!” You replied, “What can I do for you today?”

“It’s this piece of scrap metal…” He sighed, wrapping his flesh knuckles against the metal of his left arm, “It quit working on me again.”

“You really should let me make you a new one.” You murmured, grabbing your toolbox as Bucky jumped up onto one of the tables.

“As I told you before Doll, not a chance.” He smirked, fiddling with a small device that lay next to him. 

“Hey, hands off!” You scolded, slapping the top of his hand, “That isn’t something you should be messing with.” You said, shaking your head as you slipped open the panel on his arm.

“Sorry…” Bucky smiled, grey eyes fond as he glanced down at you.

“Right, it seems like one of the wires has become loose, I’ll just need to solder it back into place, shouldn’t take two minutes.” You murmured, eyes fixed intently on the arm as you grabbed the soldering iron. Turning the iron on, you began your work on the arm, smiling as Bucky began ranting about something or another that Sam had done. Looking up at him for a moment, you missed the way the soldering iron slipped, still on as it began burning his t-shirt.

“”Miss Y/N, Sergeant Barnes?” FRIDAY’s voice suddenly rang out, “I do believe that Sergeant Barnes is currently on fire.” The Irish voice said calmly, causing both of your eyes to immediately lock onto the iron that was burning through his top.

“Oh shit!” You exclaimed, hand flying up to your mouth as Bucky pretty much flew into the air and off the table.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Bucky chanted, patting down the simmering material with his metal hand. And just as the embers went out, Dum-E rolled over, blasting Bucky with a fire extinguisher.

Holding back a laugh, you handed Bucky a towel to wipe his face with, biting your lip as he scowled over at you.

“So… I fixed your arm…” You murmured, snorting slightly as you stifled a laugh.

“You set me on fire!” Bucky suddenly exclaimed, causing you to lose control and fold over laughing, 

“I’m so sorry!” You wheezed, looping your arm around Dum-E and patting him on the head. 

“I hate you both so much.” Bucky muttered, shaking his head as extinguisher foam dripped from his head and shirt.

“No you don’t.” You grinned, giggling as Bucky scooped up some foam and flicked it in your direction, before turning on his heel and exiting the room.

“Good timing as always buddy.” You murmured to the robot, huge grin still on your face.

Prompt ListRequest a prompt!


I was inspired by Elsewhere and The Cornerwitch. I hope it is good. 

Everyone in their little town called them Cornerwitch. Not much was known about their background or their home life, only that if you needed something (protection, beauty, luck, sleep, anything) they had a spell or a potion or a rune to help-for a price. They never charged very much, and if you were desperate enough they gave freely. This Cornerwitch was generous.

Their origin stretched back to the beginning of middle school for them. They found a book of the Fae in the school library and they could hear it calling to them. They devoured every last word of it and then looked for more. The next time they went to the library there was a book of witchcraft waiting for them on a table and they devoured that one too. Book after book after book until their parents found out and punished them harshly, but at that point it was too late.

They got clever with their witchcraft after that. Carving runes into worrystones so they were nearly impossible to find, sewing them into underclothes, turning potion mixes into tea bags, turning bibles into portable hidden altars; they were unstoppable. They started selling their spells and tea and runes their sophomore year of high school when their parents found one of their altars.

They saved what they could from their parents’ rampage and in order to restock started to sell in return for offerings of dried herbs and crystals and anything else they could get their hands on.

They sold calming draughts as tea bags, protection runes in worry stones, luck spells in small bottle necklaces, healing potions in pastes to be spread over bruises and scrapes and cuts. Cornerwitch had what you needed.

Their senior year changed. Their parents found out about their business and something changed in them. People who went to Cornerwitch came back and warned people not to look too long and to bring salt or iron with them. There was something sharper about them, something new and other about the bruises and the grimace and the hollow smile as Cornerwitch bargained with those desperate enough to seek them out and warnings were given as though Cornerwitch were Fae. Be careful, was the whisper of the wind in the ears of those who looked for them, Be wary.

By the time they were to go to college the birth name they put on their application and student ID for Elsewhere University was as much them as any nickname as they had ever worn.

Cornerwitch walked around campus free of burning iron and protective salt as they offered deals to students naive or desperate enough to take them, their hollow smile full of sharp teeth and air moving in waves around them as the flutter of unseen wings sprouting through the cape they wore caressed the faces of those they passed.

Rumors had it they studied the forbidden major. Rumors had it they walked completely unprotected at all times of the day. Rumors had it they dealt deals with the Fae as often as they dealt deals with humans. Rumors had it Cornerwitch wasn’t human and if you had the sight you would see exactly who their parents had turned them into.

The truth was in two hearts that beat as one on the high court of the Fae where their parents could never harm them again.


The Importance of Iron in Witchcraft

So, I got a lot of really positive feedback about my post about salt in witchcraft, so here’s another one just for you about iron!

Iron, like salt, has been used for many thousands of years as a potent tool in the practices of witchcraft. Iron is one of the most abundant metals in our planet, and is also a really great metal for making into tools. It’s tough, hard, ductile and with a high melting point that makes it ideal for situations in which you might need a tool to work under extremely hot conditions. It’s also one of only three ferromagnetic metals (along with nickel and cobalt), making it an essential part of most magnets and compasses.

In astrophysics, iron is extremely important in the life cycle of stars. Iron is one of the most atomically stable substances in the universe, and it’s also unique because it’s the first element in the periodic table to require more energy to MAKE it than it gives out from atomic fusion. This is important, because when a star gets older and fuses hydrogen to make helium, helium to make beryllium and all the rest, once it starts fusing atoms to make iron, the star begins to die. So, iron is an element that signals the death of stars, and any element that weighs MORE than iron (atomically speaking) can only be made in supernovas - that is, the explosion that takes place when a really BIG star dies.

In biology, iron is one of the most important elements in mammalian, reptilian and avian blood, because it’s the element that we use in the chemical haemoglobin. This is the chemical in our blood cells that binds to oxygen and keeps us alive. Crustaceans like lobsters don’t use iron - they use copper, and instead make haemocyanin, which makes their blood blue! However, just like in stars, iron can mean death for humans as well. If we overdose on iron, we suffer from iron heavy metal poisoning; when we get crushed by a heavy object we can suffer a disease called traumatic rhabdomyolysis or Crush Syndrome, caused by vast amounts of myoglobin (another iron-based compound, found in muscles, which gives them extra oxygen to use) entering our kidneys and killing them, and as a result killing us.

Iron in science is an element of life, death, and of many points in between. But what about its uses in witchcraft?

Witchy Facts about Iron!

  1. Iron is stable. Iron’s stability, both atomically and magickally, makes it a fantastic magickal conductor, and also means that magick doesn’t seem to affect iron very much. Enchantments on iron are never as strong as on other metals, and even the best witches will have difficulty making an enchantment or other spell anchor properly. However, this has the advantage that iron doesn’t pick up negative magick from background sources, and it’s extremely unlikely that there will be issues with ritual or altar tools made from iron. Keeping your magickal supplies inside an iron or steel box, or a box that’s been nailed together with iron nails, will prevent them from leaking out and attracting spirits that might cause harm.

  2. Iron is protective. Along with silver and a few other little bits and bobs, negative spirits and fae folk cannot touch iron lest it burn them and cause them pain. Additionally, negative magicks targetted at someone wearing an iron pendant will be attracted into the pendant and then dispelled. This makes it an ideal protective charm for everyday carry or everyday wear.

    This is why horseshoes are considered lucky
    - back in Medieval times, when protection against negative spirits and magick was much more widely practiced, poor families would often be unable to afford much iron. However, a horseshoe is made of iron, and comes with holes already cast into it, which allow you to nail one over your door easily, which keeps out harmful spirits, magick, and fae, who might seek to hurt you or your family.

  3. Iron is inconspicuous. Anyone can carry an iron nail after all, and a little piece of iron wrought and twisted into a small pendant is far from a traditional witch’s item. Those secret witches who perhaps do not live with accepting families or within an accepting community or country can find great solace in the use of iron as a protective charm.

  4. Iron is cheap. Iron nails, iron rods and iron knifes are pretty easy to get hold of and relatively quite cheap. They’re versatile and not especially likely to draw attention to you - after all, nobody’s likely to question why someone has a couple of iron nails twisted into a pendant, and if they do question it, why it’s just an artistic display! And of course, easy to replace with $5 worth of string, iron and a hammer.

  5. Iron is ancient. Iron is one of the oldest protective charms out there, right up with salt and sage. It’s been used for literally thousands of years to protect people against everything from wolves to armies to poltergeists. That’s a pretty impressive history!

  6. Iron is practical! The best cookware I’ve ever used has always been my cast iron cookware set, which makes better food than I’ve ever tasted, and it’s very easy to clean. It’s also extremely hardwearing - I wholly expect to one day be able to pass on my cast iron frying pan and wok to my grandchildren, and it was already been owned by my mother and father before me. Iron knifes are sharper and cut cleaner than almost anything except obsidian, and high-carbon steel (an alloy of iron and carbon) is the best cutting edge known in bushcrafting circles, where all the best knives are made from it

I hope this helps all you lovely witches and magick users out there!

– Juniper

Seafoam's Story

He was a freshman when we met, So foolish and fresh. He never carried around salt or Iron and thought it a good idea to think allowed when he wrote poetry, the fool. That boy so foolish and fresh, even wrote and spoke it next to the pool.

So fragilely human yet so unafraid. I may have a few drops of human blood but I am still a seal maid. Iron burns and salt repels. It matters not that my great grandma was human. My grandma was born of the sea like her father. It is rare but it happens.

When he asked me why I was staring at him that day I could not lie and said, “Your poetry is so beautiful and the sweetest of sweets. Will you write a poem for me, John Keats?”

My ability to speak poetically probably made him think I was human, but no it is just one of the few gifts being born of the sea and a small amount of human blood does. Many don’t like me for that and I know that they do not see me as one of their own completely which is why I attend no court or revelry.

He wrote me a poem, I gave him a shell. He wrote me another and I gave him that old silver bell. We exchanged gift after gift and spent hour upon hour by the pool. Oh how I missed him over the summer, I waited and waited for my fool.

That is the thing about Selkie especially those who are females. We fall for humans and mix with them much more than the males.

We become human easily if we find true love which we find in many ways. It is rare to find a selkie with no drop of human blood these days.

When he came back for his second year her worn a necklace of iron but always took it off when I was near.

 That year he struggled with his exam so I made a deal with the man. I would ensure he would pass, but the last lie he spoke to me was forever his last.

 He did not go home that winter or that summer. Many students began to wonder.

 You see I have never tried to Take him. I refused to let him be hurt because of my impulsive whim.

Maybe I am more human than I thought. Everyone said so but they forgot.

He said he would love me forever. I said the same and I knew then the bond I had to sever.

On the night of his graduation we stand in front of a flame. My pelt burns forever and I feel no shame.

We Selkie fall in love with humans more than others of our like. Now I cross the river just as human as my beloved Mike.

The Future Looks Good: Prologue

In the end, there is no other choice. Aelin sacrifices herself for Erilea. But when it seems that all is lost and she will never draw breath again, something miraculous happens. A few months later, Aelin and her court discover the unexpected consequences from that miracle. Apparently, not everyone stays dead forever.

Word Count: 2042

Read on AO3



An intense, skin peeling, hair singeing, earth melting burn.

That’s the only sensation Aelin knows. The only one she’s known for a while now. For all of the five months she’s been in Maeve’s grasp.

The burn of her iron box, iron chains, and iron mask. The burn of whip across her back, her shoulders, and her legs. The burn of her fire, restlessly waiting and building under her skin.

A sudden BOOM and the shaking of the earth beneath her reminds Aelin of where she is. In her box, next to the battlefield. So close to Rowan, to her mate. Her husband. She can feel the bond between them, more alive than it’s ever been. She knows he’s fighting to get to her. She almost cries out with the joy of it, with the joy of knowing she’s within his reach. But she can’t get distracted. She has a job to do.

Keep reading

Pretty Blue Eye

Request Prompt: Can you do an imagine where you’re Negan’s daughter (even though he doesn’t have one of course) and she meets Carl and they kinda fall for each other I WOULD LOVE YOU SO MUCH <3 -Anon

Pairing: Carl Grimes x Reader

Warning: Fluff

I looked at my dad as we rode back to the Sanctuary from Alexandria. We had just collected another tribute from them. I have to admit, I do feel a little bad. But my dad always said we do it to survive. I rested my head against the window while he went over the rules with me.

“Hey, you listening Y/N?”, he asked and I nodded.

“Yes dad. I hear ya. Kill people. Take their shit.”, I smiled and he chuckled.

“Alright, don’t be a smartass.”, he said and I shook my head.

Once we arrived the two of us got out, letting the group get the stock from the back. I heard a gun go off grabbed my pistol. My dad walked to the commotion and I pointed my gun at the intruder. I recognize him as Rick’s son.

“You look adorable.”, my dad said and I scoffed.

“He’s holding you at gun point and you think he’s adorable?”, I asked eyeing the boy.

“You scared the shit outta me.”, my dad laughed as the boy held him a scowl. I held my pistol up ready to fire when my dad held my wrist.

“Not this one.”, he mumbled and I lowered the gun. At that moment he fired again only to be tackled down by Dwight.

“Kid!” He held the crossbow up to his face and I moved to help him.

“Dwight! Is that any way to treat a guest?”, I heard my dad boast. Dwight moved as my dad held his hand out to him.

“Carl right?”, he asked with a smirk and I folded my arms.

“Come one Y/N don’t be like that.”, he said and I bit the inside of my cheek. “Let’s show our guest around shall we?”

We walked into the Sanctuary were everyone was doing their jobs. Same as they were before we left.

“We got a big load of goods and everyone gets fresh vegetables for dinner, regardless of how many point you have!”, the room erupted in cheers and we continued on.

“Is this a daily thing?”, he asked me and I nodded.

We followed my dad to the lounging area where he keeps his “wives”. The door opened and I waved at Sherry. She waved back but her smile fell once she saw my dad. He pulled her aside and they started whispering about something.

“I’m sorry you have to be here.”, I said and the boy turned to look at me.

“What does that mean?”

“Someone’s gonna get punished. I’ve never seen the iron since Dwight. The woman there, Sherry. Used to be his wife.”

“Why are you telling me this?”, he spat.

“Because my dad is dangerous. I know that. And you know it too. You don’t trust me, I can see it. But I’m telling you not to do something you’d regret.”, I snapped quietly.

“Why should you be telling me anything? You’re one of them.”, he replied.

“You think I wanted this? I’m not the one going around killing people. And I’m sure as hell not happy with what he’s doing. But if you don’t want my help then fuck you too.”, I countered.

“What are you two kids conversing about over there?”, he asked and I walked off, leaving the room. I stayed in my room after that playing with my sweater sleeve. A small knock interrupted me peaceful silence and I looked up in time to see Arat standing in the doorway.

“Its time. Your dad wants you there this time.”, she told me softly and I nodded.

I followed her to the room with the furnace where everyone gathered on the floor. The man I know as Mark tied to a chair in the center. I sat on the catwalk holding onto the railing, looking between them. He started going over the rules as Dwight held the iron over the burning fire. As my dad slipped the glove over his hand Carl turned in my direction looking up at me with a sad eye. A pretty blue eye. I tore my gaze from him and watched as my dad brought the iron closer to Mark’s face. No matter how much he pleaded and begged the punishment was carried out as planned. I clenched my eyes shut as he screamed in agony. Silence followed afterwards and I opened my eyes to see that he passed out. My dad laughed about how he pissed his pants as he stared up at Carl.

“He has been forgiven. But do remember that there are rules! Rules need to be followed.”, he stated and I quickly got up to dash outside. I hadn’t realized Carl followed me until he spoke up.

“I didn’t mean that before. Sometimes I forget there are good people too. Even if they’re mixed in with the bad.”, he said and I remained silent.

“If he let’s you go you should be lucky. He doesn’t do it often.”, I mumbled.

“If he doesn’t I have to fight. I have a younger sister back at Alexandria. And I have to fight. For her.”, he told me and I frowned.

“You have reasons to live. I don’t. I’m the reason my dad wants to live.”, I stated. “I don’t want him to hurt anyone else from your home Carl. I’ve seen too much for an average teenager. I could have stopped him that night if I had known he was going to do it.” His hand rested on mine as we sat watching the walkers behind the fence.

“He’ll lock you up like a animal. Just like your friend.”, I finished.

“I will need help if that happens.”, he smiled and I laughed a little. I looked over at him watching his eyes sparkle as my dad walked outside.

“Carl! I want to know more about ya. So come inside.”