laura mills

Storm Front

Happy Valentine’s Day to my amazing Secret Valentine, @starscythe!!!  I do hope you enjoy this gift, my friend, as you gift us with so many incredible manips all year long. Meeting you in person in November was such a joy, and I hope we can hug in person again in the near future. 

Without further adieu, here is your  @oqcelebration valentine. :D


He’s heard stories, of course, broken whispers whenever a fierce storm blew in unexpectedly, mumbled musings if an acquaintance suddenly fell ill. These are never voiced loudly, as superstition’s lingering hold on the forest proves to be an ominous task master, leaving such wonderings to drift from one listener to the next, more often than not finding fertile ground stripped bare by black magic’s lingering touch.

The Evil Queen’s dark curse had taken many, but there are those among the forest’s remnants who believe she herself still dwells in this realm. They speak of her in hushed fragments, discuss sightings of a dark, solitary figure who roams the forest at night, a cloaked woman who has somehow lost her magic but now lives bound to it, perhaps in just retribution for a curse so foul it emptied their lands and cast both friend and foe into fates unknown.

Robin has never put much stock into superstition, neither does he give credence to legends or fairy lore. His is a world defined by what he can see, touch and confiscate, a world in which people rarely fit into molds of “good” or “evil”, a world in which he’s observed unspeakable acts committed by the most respected of citizens while those judged as lesser are the very ones who offer shelter and food to the starving. He lives by his wits and senses and surrounds himself with a thieving group of outcasts he’d readily give his life to protect.

Yet even he, the infamous Robin Hood, has to admit that the air feels odd tonight, that there is a charge to the impending storm brewing in the eastern highlands that makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He senses a disturbance, one that feels altogether too personal and close at hand for comfort. Roland must have felt it, too, for the boy had clung to him as Robin soothed his son’s whimpers until he’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep.

It is enough for him to grudgingly admit that tinges of magic probably remain in his forest, even if the queen is nowhere to be found. Dreams of Marian and of his mother plague his sleep and fill him with sense of urgency altogether foreign, one that pushes him towards consciousness even as his body rebels.

A loud clap of thunder finally awakens him, and he’s surprised to find that he’s drenched in sweat. Roland is still sleeping soundly, but one touch to his son’s forehead reveals that the boy is hot with fever. He holds his child close, drawing the blankets up around him, but he worries as all parents do, even as the wind howls just outside their tent.

Roland needs feverfew tea. Unfortunately, their stashes of medicinal herbs have run dry in light of the recent bout of sickness that have ravaged both his men and their families, and he lies there only minutes before deciding to risk a trip to the lake’s edge to gather what he needs. He wakes Little John and asks his friend to keep an ear and eye out for his son before donning his thickest cloak and disappearing into the forest’s canopy. He’s survived far worse storms than this, he reminds himself, ignoring the tingling sensations skittering up his legs that feel altogether supernatural.

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Protect your girl the way Mary Louise protected Nora.
Love your girl the way Nicole loves Waverly.
Hold your girl the way Carmilla holds Laura.
Wait until she is ready the way Maggie waits for Alex. (Maggie shoulg really start doing something right now….)
Hope she loves you the way we are hoping for Emma and Regina relationship to exits.
Fight by her side the way Lexa and Clarke did.
But If you can’t do that…at least don’t die like some of this amazing woman have.

Ps: I know many more have died as well… #WeDeserveBetter

I´m sexy and I know it

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Inspired by the lovely @lala-kate‘s new response to a prompt for an 1800′s OQ

Until That Day:

A widower and father in good health, of decent appearance and substantial means seeks a wife. She must be intelligent, in good health and be willing to become a mother to two young children. If interested, please write to the following address.

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Laura Osnes Performs Love Will Come And Find Me Again from The Bandstand

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Auld Lang Syne

Summary: It’s your first New Year’s Eve at the bunker, so naturally you want to have a small party!
Characters: Reader x Sam x Dean (plus a few cameo appearances!)
Word Count: 1,270
Warnings: None! It’s just a fluffy, feel good piece.

A/N: So this was a little something I threw together for my dear, Bovaria. You’re the best gal I know, my love! I’m also really sick with the flu and a sinus infection, so this isn’t my best work. I just wanted everyone to have a little glimpse into life the first NYE at the bunker. Lastly, Happy New Year to ALL of you beautiful people! xx

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You weren’t normally the type of girl to get all gussied up, but tonight was different. Tonight, you were doing the whole nine, whether you liked it or not.

I mean, how could you not dress up for New Year’s Eve?

Sam, Dean, and you had managed to find a string of days free of monsters and you had decided to put together a small little shindig to welcome in New Year. It was two days after Christmas when you had announced your plan to the boys. You figured Sam would be easy to persuade, but knowing Dean, he would need a little more convincing.

So, of course you decided to bring it up while the smells of apple pie wafted throughout the bunker, calling to Dean like a siren’s song.

‘Was it that? What’s the smell?’ Dean poked his head around the kitchen wall, eyebrows raised.

‘It’s the apple pie I’m baking for you.’ You answered sweetly, smiling at the emerald eyed Winchester. ‘It only has a couple more minutes left. Grab some plates and I’ll slice it up as soon as it’s ready.’

Sam was already at the table, laptop opened in front of him. Dean grabbed three plates and forks and walked over to the table. He set them down, then closed Sam’s laptop.

‘Come on, man! I was reading something!’ Sam protested, glaring at his older brother.

‘Y/N made pie.’

Sam tried to open his laptop again, but once more, Dean’s hand came down on it.

‘Pie, Sammy.’

‘But Dean-‘

‘Pie!’ Dean exclaimed.

Sam sensed the note of finality in his brother’s voice and rolled his eyes, moving his computer to the far side of the table. The oven timer went off and you pulled the dessert out. You were assaulted with the scent of fresh apples, cinnamon, and nutmeg and you instinctively knew that Dean’s mouth was already watering. You walked over to the table and set the pie down in the middle. Within a couple seconds, Dean began to reach towards the still too hot pie, but you swatted away his hand.

‘Not yet! You’ll burn your mouth!’ You laughed at how overeager he was when it came to his pie. ‘Besides, there is something I want to talk about with you two.’

The boys looked at each other for a beat, then turned their gazes back on you.

“Okay… what about?’ Sam said apprehensively, now knowing where this was going.

You checked the temperature of the pie with your fingertips, making sure it wasn’t too hot to consume. Satisfied with your results, you began slicing it up and served the boys your creation. Dean’s eyes were as round as the plate when you put the pie in front of him, his lips forming a smile full of childlike excitement.  

‘Well, you know, it’s New Year’s Eve in a couple days, and it’s obviously my first one with you guys, my first one here in the bunker. I was thinking that maybe we could, you know…’ you treaded carefully with your words, ‘…get some of the gang together and celebrate.’ You looked at the boys, trying to gauge their reactions.

Sam smiled from ear to ear, so you knew you had him on board. ‘Of course! Yes!’ He enthusiastically responded.

Dean, on the other hand, didn’t say a word.

‘Dean?’ You asked gently.

‘What does a man gotta do around here to be able to enjoy his pie in some friggin’ silence?’ He glanced around at you and Sam, irritated that you were interrupting him.

You looked sheepishly at Sam, hoping he could sense your need to help get Dean’s approval.

‘Dean, the pie will still be here in thirty seconds. Look, Y/N wants to have some people over, and I think we should too. It’s been a long year for all of us.’

Sam smiled at you, so you picked up where he left off. ‘Yeah, you won’t even have to worry about anything, either. I’ll make a supply run, grab some beers and a little food. Throw up a couple streamers and we’ll be good to go. Please Dean?’

You gave him your best puppy dog eyes, and Dean started to break. He glanced over at Sam, who was giving him the exact same face.

‘Alright, alright. We can have the damn party.’ He said, throwing his hands up in defeat. ‘Now just let me eat my pie.’

‘Well, there’s just one more thing.’ You started to say, just as Dean dropped his fork on the plate and shot you an exasperated look. ‘I want us to dress up.’

‘No!’ The both replied in unison.

‘Oh come on! It’ll be fun! Please?’ You were not above begging, as it turned out. Dean went back to eating his pie and Sam was staring at you, straight faced. ‘Guys, I’ll wear a dress. When have I ever worn a dress?’ You pleaded.

Sam started coughing, obviously startled by your declaration. ‘Okay, okay, if you wear a dress, then we’ll dress up too.’

You looked at Dean, who gave nothing away.

‘Dean. Me, in a dress. Come on. I know you want to see it.’ You teased, but were met with grumbling from him. You sighed heavily, giving him what he really wanted. ‘Alright, fine. I’ll make you another pie if you agree to dress up.’

You waited.

And waited.

Finally, he held up two fingers and you squealed with delight.

It was now New Year’s Eve, and you had gotten out of the shower about an hour ago. Your hair was down, curled in big, loose waves and your makeup was for once, pretty spot on. You walked over to your bed and gazed down at the dress you picked out for the night. It was a sleek little black number, one that hugged your body just so. It was knee length and had delicate, lacy sleeves. You felt beautiful in it, and you couldn’t wait to get downstairs to see everyone. You slipped into the dress, zipped it up, and with one last fleeting glance in the mirror, you made your way downstairs.

Dean was talking to Kevin at the bottom of the stairs and his chiseled face was beaming when he saw you. He held out his hand for you, which you took, and he pulled you into a crushing hug. He kissed your cheek, telling you how beautiful you looked. You complimented Dean on his three piece navy suit, letting him know that Eliot Ness would be proud of him. Next you hugged Kevin, expressing how excited you were that he and his mother could make it.

You excused yourself from the boys, grabbed a beer, and made your way around the room. You spotted Charlie with a gorgeous brunette, huddled together and laughing. Mrs. Tran was talking with Jody and Donna, while Sam, Cas, and Garth were swapping stories over pigs in a blanket. The night was filled with family, laughter, and food. At one point, you thought you were going to pee your pants because Sam was sharing a story about Dean being afraid of a kitten. You all counted down the ball drop together, and exchanged hugs and kisses once it was officially 2015.

A warmth had spread throughout your body, one that wasn’t caused from food or alcohol. Instead, it had flourished from all the love you felt in the room. These people were your family and you would die to protect them. You couldn’t think of a better way to usher in a new year than being surrounded by those who meant the most to you.