quick! someone find me a spell to get rid of this

Advanced English Vocabulary

jubilant (adj.) - extremely joyful, happy (The crowd was jubilant when the firefighter carried the woman from the flaming building.)

knell (n.) - the solemn sound of a bell, often indicating a death (Echoing throughout our village, the funeral knell made the grey day even more grim.)

lithe (adj.) - graceful, flexible, supple (Although the dancers were all outstanding, Joanna’s control of her lithe body was particularly impressive.)

lurid (adj.) - ghastly, sensational (Barry’s story, in which he described a character torturing his neighbour’s tortoise, was judged too lurid to be published on the English Library’s website.)

maverick (n.) - an independent, nonconformist person (John is a real maverick and always does things his own way.)

maxim (n.) - a common saying expressing a principle of conduct (Ms. Stone’s etiquette maxims are both entertaining and instructional.)

meticulous (adj.) - extremely careful with details (The ornate needlework in the bride’s gown was a product of meticulous handiwork.)

modicum (n.) - a small amount of something (Refusing to display even a modicum of sensitivity, Magda announced her boss’s affair to the entire office.)

morose (adj.) - gloomy or sullen (David’s morose nature made him very unpleasant to talk to.)

myriad (adj.) - consisting of a very great number (It was difficult to decide what to do on Saturday night because the city presented us with myriad possibilities for fun.)

nadir (n.) - the lowest point of something (My day was boring, but the nadir came when my new car was stolen.)

nominal (adj.) - trifling, insignificant (Because he was moving the following week and needed to get rid of his furniture more than he needed money, Kim sold everything for anominal price.)

novice (n.) - a beginner, someone without training or experience (Because we were allnovices at archery, our instructor decided to begin with the basics

nuance (n.) - a slight variation in meaning, tone, expression (The nuances of the poem were not obvious to the casual reader, but the teacher was able to point them out.)

oblivious (adj.) - lacking consciousness or awareness of something (Oblivious to the burning smell emanating from the kitchen, my father did not notice that the rolls in the oven were burned until much too late.)

obsequious (adj.) - excessively compliant or submissive (Donald acted like Susan’s servant, obeying her every request in an obsequious manner.)

obtuse (adj.) - lacking quickness of sensibility or intellect (Political opponents warned that the prime minister’s obtuse approach to foreign policy would embroil the nation in mindless war.)

panacea (n.) - a remedy for all ills or difficulties (Doctors wish there was a single panacea for every disease, but sadly there is not.)

parody (n.) - a satirical imitation (A hush fell over the classroom when the teacher returned to find Magdalena acting out a parody of his teaching style.)

penchant (n.) - a tendency, partiality, preference (Fiona’s dinner parties quickly became monotonous on account of her penchant for Indian dishes.)

perusal (n.) - a careful examination, review (The actor agreed to accept the role after a three-month perusal of the movie script.)

plethora (n.) - an abundance, excess (The wedding banquet included a plethora of oysters piled almost three feet high.)

predilection  (n.) - a preference or inclination for something (James has a predilection for eating toad in the whole with tomato ketchup.)

quaint (adj.) - charmingly old-fashioned (Mary was delighted by the quaint bonnets she saw in Romania.)

rash (adj.) - hasty, incautious (It’s best to think things over calmly and thoroughly, rather than make rash decisions.)

refurbish (v.) - to restore, clean up (After being refurbished the old Triumph motorcycle commanded the handsome price of $6000.)

repudiate (v.) - to reject, refuse to accept (Tom made a strong case for an extension of his curfew, but his mother repudiated it with a few biting words.)

rife (adj.) - abundant (Surprisingly, the teacher’s writing was rife with spelling errors.)

salient (adj.) - significant, conspicuous (One of the salient differences between Alison and Helen is that Alison is a couple of kilos heavier.)

serendipity (n.) - luck, finding good things without looking for them (In an amazing bit of serendipity, penniless Mark found a $50 bill on the back seat of the bus.)

staid (adj.) - sedate, serious, self-restrained (The staid butler never changed his expression no matter what happened.)

superfluous (adj.) - exceeding what is necessary (Samantha had already won the campaign so her constant flattery of others was superfluous.)

sycophant (n.) - one who flatters for self-gain (Some see the people in the cabinet as the Prime Minister’s closest advisors, but others see them as sycophants.)

taciturn (adj.) - not inclined to talk (Though Magda never seems to stop talking, her brother is quite taciturn.)

truculent (adj.) - ready to fight, cruel (This club doesn’t really attract the dangerous types, so why was that bouncer being so truculent?)

umbrage (n.) - resentment, offence (He called me a lily-livered coward, and I took umbrage at the insult.)

venerable (adj.) - deserving of respect because of age or achievement (The venerable High Court judge had made several key rulings in landmark cases throughout the years.)

vex (v.) - to confuse or annoy (My boyfriend vexes me by pinching my bottom for hours on end.)

vociferous (adj.) - loud, boisterous (I’m tired of his vociferous whining so I’m breaking up with him.)

wanton (adj.) - undisciplined, lewd, lustful (Joanna’s wanton demeanor often made the frat guys next door very excited.)

zenith (n.) - the highest point, culminating point (I was too nice to tell Emily that she had reached the absolute zenith of her career with that one top 10 hit of hers.)

The Joker x Reader - “Apart”

When you sent him the invitation to your wedding, you didn’t actually expect The Joker to show up. But here he is and now you have to deal with the situation; you are usually such a good actress, but…this is different. Very different.

“You came,” a smile appears on the corner of your lips as J gets out of the car and the valet takes it away, leaving your ex in front of you with a wide smirk on his face.

“Of course I came, I wouldn’t miss this now, would I?” he opens his arms and you go to give him a quick hug. “Hi, Doll,” he quickly pecks your cheek and you hold him for a few more seconds before breaking the embrace. You didn’t spoke or touch each other in about half a year.  

You take a deep breath, analyzing him and start walking up the stairs towards the mansion while you try to keep the conversation going without getting awkward:

“You still look the same J,” you state the obvious and he snickers, amused.

“I never change; you should know that by now. Would you look at this place,” he struggles to impress himself. “It’s a fortress, took me a while to find it. At least I know my girl is well taken care of, hm?”

“I’m…I’m not your girl anymore,” you whisper, brushing off the weirdness of his statement, but you know he just talks like this all the time anyway.

“Right, thanks for the reminder,” he elbows you, scoffing, and you ignore what he just said and point towards the huge property, excited:

“Let me give you a tour.”

“Where is the groom- to-be? Can’t wait to meet him; he’d better make you happy otherwise he will have to deal with me,” he keeps on yammering and you take his arm, not reacting to the last part of his tirade, guiding him through the maze of the outdoor gardens.

“He is away with business; he will be back in two days for the wedding. You’re the first guest to arrive, the rest are coming tomorrow.”

“You sure hired a lot of people for the event, Pumpkin. I can tell it’s going to be a huge wedding.”

“It will be,” you giggle, watching everybody running around, setting up flowers and the humongous tent where the gathering will happen.

“Wow, I already like it, no expense was spared,” The Joker addresses you, witnessing a few things coming together in a very nice way.

“Miss Y/N,” someone approaches, “do you want more red roses or pink ones?”

“Red,” J answers and it pleases you. “It’s her favorite color.” You also nod a yes and the guy walks away, trying to count how many more to add now. “Who else is coming?” he asks, frowning when a waiter passes you by in a hurry. “ I don’t like the way that man looked at you, want me to take care of it?”

You start laughing, caressing his shoulder.

“Noooo, lets’ not do that, it’s all good.”

It surprises you how much effort you put into trying not to look nervous, you are usually such a good actress, but…this is somewhat different.

“A lot of people will come, you know some of them,” you show him the guest list on a nearby table. “Don’t worry, you’ll seat next to me so you don’t really have to small talk with the others too much. I know you hate that.”

“I sure do,” he grins, kissing your hand and you sigh, continuing to pace alongside him in perfect silence for a few moments.

“Oh, no, it’s starting to rain,” you point out, looking at the gloomy clouds. “Thank goodness the tent is up so it won’t rain inside; they can still continue to decorate, it really needs to be finished by tomorrow night. Let’s go in the mansion, I’ll show you what we got.”

*******************

As soon as he steps in and sees the crystal chandelier he looks in your eyes, puckering his lips:

“Same one we have at the penthouse!”

We had,” you correct him but The Joker didn’t get the fact you were referring to his statement involving the two of you. Or maybe he pretended.

“No, it’s still there, Doll. You always had good taste in decorating so I kept it.”

“That’s nice,” you avert your gaze, feeling your cheeks getting warm.

You walk him around, explaining what’s what, just like a well learned lesson.

“I’ll be damned,” he stops, stunned. “You kept it?!”

The enormous painting you two snatched from Gotham’s art museum two years ago is the centerpiece in the living room. He didn’t want to go because he couldn’t care less about stuff like that but in the end you convinced him to steal it together. You had it at the penthouse until…you left and took it with you. Now it’s here.

“You know how much I love it, Mister J,” you tease him by calling his full name, which you only did when he got in trouble. “I could never get rid of it.”

“I can understand that; I know your mind gets set on something and then you don’t let go,” he mocks, starting to walk upstairs.

*********************

“And, ummm… this is the master bedroom,” you present it, a bit uncomfortable.

“It’s so you, Y/N, I can see it everywhere. Look at the bed, reminds me of the one we have at the penthouse,” he points towards it and you fix his mistake:

We had.”

“No, it’s still there,” he continues and you are still not sure if he really doesn’t get what you’re saying, but you don’t want to insist on the issue. No point really.

“I wonder if…You do have a mirror here too!” he sits on the bed, looking up and sure it’s there. He lies down on the pillows, gesturing you to come by him and you humor him. “Remember ours?”

You scoot over by him, smiling and grab his hand, looking up at the mirror too.

“Yes, fun times. We had our moments, right?” you have to agree, turning your head towards him.

“U-hum,” he replies, taking your fingers to his lips and kissing them, absent minded. You squirm under his touch and have to break the spell J apparently is unaware he still holds upon you.

“Why did you push me away?” you suddenly ask, squeezing his hand tighter.

“I push everybody away, it doesn’t mean that’s my intent,” he replies and for once he sounds sincere.

“Hey, wanna see my wedding dress?” you hurry and get up, heading towards the walk in closet.

“Might as well,” he lifts his shoulders up, resigned. He doesn’t really want to see it but he can’t upset you now that you are finally on speaking terms again. It takes you about 10 minutes to get ready and step outside, anxious for his reaction.

“My God, Princess, you look so beautiful,” he has to admit, jumping from the bed, coming to meet you in the middle of the room. “Turn around,” The Joker suggests and you slowly spin so he can see your gorgeous dress. “I really like the gown, it suits you.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, playing around with the delicate fabric because you feel edgy.

“My Princess always looks beautiful anyway,” he unravels his silver teeth, chuckling.

“I’m…I’m not your Princess anymore J,” you step towards him, fighting with all the feelings inside of you.

“You’ll always be my Princess,” he simply states and then rolls his eyes. “Come on, you’re gonna cry on me? You know I always talk like this,” he makes fun of you, seeing your lips quivering but has to admit something makes him uneasy.

Fuck it all, you think, deciding on the spot and go kiss him which surprises The Joker and in the same time it doesn’t.

I’m not sure if I like diamonds anymore,” you clearly enunciate and he freezes with his hands around your waist.

This is the phrase you two decided to use when you were together as a warning for grave danger, just in case you couldn’t say anything else and you wanted the other to know something is up without getting busted.

“Well, that’s a first, Doll,” he lets you go, understanding someone is listening, carefully looking around as you put your finger on your lips, signaling him to be quiet. You point towards the corners of the room, quickly scribbling on a piece of paper that you stash in his pocket.

“Yes, I am so bored with diamonds these days,” you try to control your voice from breaking and you hug him tight, barely whispering in his ear:
“Run! A left, two rights around the stairs. Don’t take the car, just run!” and you drag him towards the door, peeking outside to make sure nobody is passing by. He has such an intrigued expression on his face and you cover his mouth, shaking your head as a no.

“Ssstttt,” you soundlessly shush him. “Don’t let anybody see you, they’re all undercover! Go!” you whisper one last time before pushing him away and he doesn’t linger anymore but signals you to follow.

You mutter a NO, watching him walk as he turns around one more time to see you in your wedding dress. He takes the corner and he’s gone.

What the hell is going on? The Joker wonders, carefully sneaking around, hiding behind a wall so he can read the piece of paper you placed in his pocket:

“I’m not at Arkham or Belle Reve, not sure where. Warn as many as you can not to come. After you get out, keep left under the trees until you get to the main road. Don’t let them catch you.”

***********************

It was a difficult break up, at least as far as you were concerned. You got sick and tired of everything and left because he didn’t seem to give a damn anyway. You were on your own for about a month when you got ambushed during a heist and couldn’t escape. You were taken to a place you haven’t been before and they were sure thrilled to see they got The Joker’s girlfriend; well, ex, but you didn’t tell them that part; they found out on their own.

You were sentenced to 40 years in prison but offered a deal: if you help the Secret Service catch the elusive Clown Prince of Crime and many others, your verdict will be reduced to only 10 years. It was such a sweet deal and they spared no effort in planning the perfect stakeout: for 3 months they put everything together, using your fake wedding as the bait: they wanted to get as many most wanted criminals as possible with minimum casualties, away from the public eye on that hidden property, rehearsing day and night to make everything seem like the real deal. They knew many would come to the occasion if you invite them. And you agreed, sure hoping J won’t show up. When he did, you didn’t want to care but things didn’t go as planned. You and your stupid feelings for him; you always pay for them no matter what.

***************************

Of course the deal went sour and they retaliated for what you did: your sentence changed to life in prison and you weren’t treated nicely, to say the least. You had days when you regretted your stupid decision, crying yourself to sleep in the dark, cold cell. And some days were better, hoping he might find you and get you out of there. Hours, weeks, months and then two years passed with heartbreaking solitude and doubt, and you finally realized The Joker will never save you.  Even if you helped that day, knowing him he probably hated you with passion after tricking him with that well devised scheme and he is not the one to forgive such transgression. Or maybe he just can’t find the location. You tried to cope but the thought of never getting out of there was slowly driving you insane. How you missed the outside world and the freedom of doing what you please.

And you missed him…You couldn’t get out of your mind that last time he looked at you. You wanted so badly to run with him, but had to stay behind to hold them up, pretending he’s still there for a while to give him enough time to flee…Like he appreciated the sacrifice…Too late now for remorse, yet you can’t hide from yourself.

You slowly chew on your bread, deep in thought, sitting on the mattress, examining your skinny hands. You got so much thinner due to the special menu and treatment you were subjected in the last two years. Fit for a Queen, as they like to laugh at you.

“Oh, great,” you pull out the piece of plastic out of your mouth, unnerved you are always given such disgusting food. This is where you usually stop eating, nauseated at the crap you find in the meals. You glance at it for a second before wanting to toss it on the floor when you notice something.

You have to bring it really close to your eyes since you are not allowed to wear your contacts.  

I’m here. Cover your ears,” you read and gasp, dumbfounded, having a hard time processing what just happened.

The loud explosion to the right wall of your cell throws you to the ground and your ears start ringing .You struggle to get up, covered in dust and debris, stumbling to keep your balance, dizzy from the blast.

You stare at the gap in your wall, seeing so many bodies moving around on the other side, not knowing what to do.

“Would you hurry up, woman?! I don’t have all day!” you hear the familiar voice and J creeps inside your prison, coughing and trying to move the flying ashes out of his way.

You can’t even move and stare at him wearing your favorite suit, starting to cry in a frenzy.

He sighs and comes in front of you, his blue gaze going up and down your body, growling when he realizes how scrawny you are.

“So you didn’t get married, hm?” he bites on his lip and you barely manage to utter, whimpering:

“N-no…” and you continue bawling , rushing in his arms and he hugs you, taking each other in for a few seconds. “You…you look the same,” you cry your eyes out on his shoulder, hoping you are not hallucinating from the meds.

“I never change, you should know that by now,” he purrs in your hair, ecstatic he found you. He’s been looking forever; my God you were well locked away or what?!

“Sir, we need to get out of here, they’re coming!” one of the mercenaries yells and J lifts you up in his arms, carrying you outside. The sun hits you and you hide your face in his chest, wincing in pain.

“My eyes,” you complain, wiping your tears and slowly readjusting to natural light, fastly blinking to make it better. “You can put me down, I think I can walk,” you turn his face towards you so you can see him.

“Queens don’t walk,” he grumbles, kissing your forehead, continuing to carry you.

“I really missed you,” you confess on the verge of crying again. “I thought you will never come.”

“Meh, I was bored staring at that chandelier all day,” he tries to joke and you sense his hands holding you tighter.

You sniffle, smiling for the first time in so many months and ask when he looks down at you:

We still have it?”

We do,” The Joker answers, walking faster as all hell breaks loose behind him.

 Also read: MASTERLIST:

http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

Scratch - Part 7 - (Steve x Reader)

Summary: (Y/N) and Steve have been best friends since New York, so when when they are both going through a dry spell they agree to a friends with benefits relationship.

A/N: I’m making a Scarlet Witch Civil War cosplay for FanExpo in April and I think I bit off more that I can chew. I have about a month and a half to do everything and so far I’ve only cut out all the material. I should have probably just done Jessica Jones. I already have everything I need for her and wouldn’t have to sew anything. 

Self promote: Follow my bookstagram @99bookproblems I would really appreciate it.

Warnings: light smut I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

It was our last night in Vegas and we had all decided to go out to a club together.

“Oh he is cute,” Wanda agreed looking over at the man I had pointed out across the club.

“I’m going to go talk to him,” I grin knocking back the remainder of my drink. “If this goes well I’ll call you in the morning to pick me up from where ever he’s staying at.”

“I’ll stop by for a greasy breakfast on the way,” Wanda smiles.

“Sounds like a plan,” I say over my shoulder as I make my way across the club.

He sees me approaching before I reach him and smiles at me.

“This is where one of us would use some kind of cheesy pick up line, but how about we skip over that and get straight to it,” I smirk.

“I agree,” he says. “I’m Mike.”

“Y/N.”

“I know,” Mike grins. I raise an eyebrow at him confused before he lets out a small chuckle. “The Avengers are basically celebrities. I would have to be living under a rock to not know who you are.”

“That’s not fair,” I frown. “You basically know everything about me, and I just barley know your name.”

“Then I think we should fix that,” he smiles lifting a hand to signal the bartender and ordering us drinks.

Keep reading

All the little lines

Ok so: 1668 words 

Prompt: Ok so hear me out. A drarry fic idea I had. Everyone is in DADA and their learning about boggarts and everyone has had their turn except Draco, and he politely asks Lupin to not have to participate, and Lupin tells him there is nothing to worry about and makes him participate. But when the boggart pops out it turns into Harry telling Draco that he will never love him, and calls him all kinds of names, and Draco kinda breaks down and runs out of class. I would love to see this story!! Thanks XXX 

 This was really fun to write, ah the angst. 

 Warnings; MAJOR references to depression, self harm (cutting), self hate 

 And as usual hella gay 

 Sophie xx 


As soon as Draco heard the word ‘boggart,’ he knew something would go wrong. He didn’t have the most conventional fears after all, most people didn’t fear that their father would constantly ignore them, or that he would be carted off to Azkaban, yet they were still his fears, and fears should be private, not something the world would know, especially since he was sure that at least 8 people in that class wanted him dead. 

He was sure that at least 5 of them would use this moment in future, or in some vain attempt to stop his from doing whatever he wasn’t supposed to be doing that certain day. 

 Approaching professor lupin before class, Draco knocked on the defence against the dark arts office door, and when he heard an 'enter,’ from the other side, he quickly slipped through the wood and stone and shut it behind him. 

“Draco! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Lupin inquired, he hadn’t been expecting Draco to come to him with an inquiry, more like him to ask where on earth he had taken one creature or another to plague another student. 

 Draco let out a breath and began to fiddle with his hair which was no longer fixed in place due to how much he had been fiddling with it through the day. 

“Professor lupin, I-” Draco hesitated, before huffing quickly and continuing with his original plan. 

“Professor lupin, I’m not entirely comfortable with today’s lesson,” lupin looked up, surprised, “not that I don’t like your lessons professor, it’s just that, well, I’m not entirely comfortable with the fact that people will see what I fear most.”

Lupin gave him a empathetic look, almost as if he could completely understand what Draco meant. 

"Draco, sometimes we must face our greatest fears, and sometimes people will see, but that won’t make you any less brave for facing them. If they see, then what good will it do to them,” he finished, walking towards the boy. 

“Professor, it’s just that, I don’t exactly know what I fear most,” Draco confessed, with his head hung in what Remus could only describe as shame. 

“Draco, I’m sorry, but unless you have a note from your head of house, then I can do absolutely nothing,” Lupin confessed apologetically, he now mimicking the the position that Draco was in now. Draco inhaled sharply and nodded. 

“I, I understand,” he replied, before slowly standing up and moving towards the door. 

“Mr Malfoy,” Draco froze, keen to hear what lupin had to say. 

“If it gets too much, I will step in, i promise.” With that, Draco opened the door and left.

 — 

To say that he was dreading this lesson was an understatement. He had never felt such anticipation in his life, yet as lupin opened the door and ushered the students in, the small smile that he gave him was enough to dispel at least some of the butterflies. 

 The line seemed to be long, yet everyone seemed to get their fear out of the way quickly, with Longbottom going first and ridding professor Snape of his usually threatening composure, then, the line progressed on from there.

By the time it came to Malfoy’s turn, he felt as if he were about to throw up, yet the presence of Lupin just out of reach came as a welcome comfort to him. The mystery of what could possibly come to him was eating him alive. Could it be his father, disapproving as always? The dark mark which he knew he must inherit? The death of his mother? Lord Voldemort himself? 

He stepped towards the giant Jack in a Box which seemed to be swinging threateningly towards him, yet as it swung forwards for a first time, it did nothing, simply remaining as it was. The second time, it seemed to slow slightly, analysing him where he stood, and as it swung back a third time, it dissolved, shrinking down into a figure.

As it solidified, the first thing that Draco noticed was the bright green eyes, which were filled with scorn and distaste at the sight in front of him. His face was filled with disgust and mockery towards the malfoy which had been presented to him, and his arms were crossed and his legs were tense, almost as if he were getting ready to pounce at any moment.

“Dear merlin you look pathetic,” Harry spat, at least, it looked like Harry, but it couldn’t be, right?

“I mean really, asking your professor to save you from a little fear, how useless can you be?” Draco turned to look at lupin only to find him just as stunned as he was.

“I don’t even know why I’m bothering with a faggot ass snob like you,” Draco flinched as the class erupted into whispers, and felt his cheeks start to burn with anger and embarrassment, hanging his head. 

“How the hell do you think anyone could love you, you’re a disgusting excuse for a human being and you know it," 

Draco tried raising his wand to banish the fear, but he couldn’t, it had taken over him. It was gripping his throat making it hard to breath, and twisting his stomach, making him want to vomit, every word he said was a knife to the gut he couldn’t get rid of. 

"That’s right,” he hissed, “show your peers your arm, it is that one you slice, isn’t it?” Draco’s arm fell quickly, as did a wet sensation of his cheek, as a hot tear began to roll to meet his trembling lip.

“Cry why don’t you, it won’t change the fact that you can’t even love yourself, and if you can’t love you, then how the hell could i?" 

A dagger sliced through Draco’s heart, piercing the thick wall which he kept so impenetrably thick, as it protected him from things like this. He was vaguely aware of professor lupin standing in front of him to distract the boggart, yet the damage was already done, and as he shouted ridiculous, Draco sprinted from behind him into the empty corridor, ignoring someone who seemed to be shouting his name. 

It took Harry two hours until he finally found what he was looking for, searching in every boy’s bathroom in all of hogwarts in order to locate one person, yeah it didn’t seem like a good idea at the time either. He would have used a locating spell, but it was one that Seamus Finnigan had give him and Harry wasn’t in the mood to be blown up today. 

When he finally found Draco, it wasn’t even in a boy’s bathroom. Moaning myrtle had been passing through a corridor which Harry happened to be passing through at the time, and that itself seemed a bit strange, yet when she began to complain about being kicked out of her own bathroom by a boy no less, especially one whom seemed to blame Harry for the whole ordeal, well, she had to moan to someone. 

Harry found Draco leaning against the one of the sinks with a broken shard which he assumed came from the smashed mirror, which would also explain his bloody fist. His arm was bleeding as several small cuts across it leaked out small trickles of the red liquid, causing Harry to gasp out in horror.

Draco turned to meet his green eyes, the same green eyes which had taunted him just hours ago. He smirked coldly.

"Here to taunt me again?” His words were spat towards Harry with such a hatred that he had never seen Draco have for anyone. Sure he poked fun but never did his words hold so much venom until now.

“Draco, I would never,” Harry began, before he was cut off by a harsh laugh from Draco, who had begun to squeeze the shard of glass placed between his fingers and his palm, making him bleed only more.

“But you did. It was you, I saw,” he said, his voice hushing down to a whisper. 

Harry slowly moved towards Draco, avoiding to touch the small cuts on his arm in fear that it would hurt him. When he got to Draco’s hand, he lifted it by the wrist before turning it to examine the glass in his hands, then gently coaxing his fingers open and removing the object from between them.

Quickly, he threw the glass away before it could hurt Draco any further. Draco looked up to Harry, meeting his eyes, both of them reflecting an equal amount of fear for the other, Draco of what Harry might say, and Harry of what Draco might do.

Harry drew in a shaky breath and shook his head at the cuts on Draco’s wrist. He began to rip at the bottom of his white school shirt, making quick work of the seams, before finally getting a good chunk of material, before carefully wrapping it around the injured wrist.

“Listen Draco, I will never hurt you like that,” Harry nodded his head outside, still focusing on bandaging, "or like this,“ he nodded to the small scars which had littered Draco’s wrist. Draco smiled down at the boy making quick work of his small injuries.

"Promise Potter?”

“I promise you prat.” Draco gave out a short laugh before both of them fell back into a comfortable silence.

“So you love me and all that jazz?”

“Oh shut it Potter.”

anonymous asked:

Hiii! Could you please write something where you and H are friends but you like each other and he's alway super cute but also flirty? the rest is up to you, thank you xx

Rating: PG!
Warnings: none really. Just harry being a cheeky bastard
Category: fluff?
Word Count: 4,154 I think the longest a request has been so far!
Request: yes! I’m stock piling these, trying to get them done so I’ll be popping more during the week i think. I’ll try. If not I will after #BIM is over :)

Note: IDK if this is “super cute but also flirty” but there’s some of both mixed in and stuff… I hope you like the way this turned out!



17. Something Small.



You run down the halls of school in search for your best friend, Harry. The envelope in your hands is too important and you clutch it tight to your body. Crashing against bodies and yelling half-assed apologies to people as you rush to get to his locker before first period. Soon you can see him, in all his skinny jean glory.
“ Harry harry harry!” you yell coming close. So close that you almost slam into the open door of his locker, smacking it shut.
“ Whoa whoa, hey there Lighting McQueen.”
“ Oh lord Harry you won’t believe what I go-”
“ G’morning to you too” he says interrupting you and throwing his messenger bag on his shoulder and fully closing his locker. You roll your eyes, this was not a moment to greet and say hello. You were freaking out, quickly you slam the letter on his chest and he scoffs looking at it. Soon his eyes and mouth both open wide. “Have you read it?” he says as he takes it in his hand and scans his eyes over the sleek design or the letter. London University of Arts. You bite your lip and shake your head no.
“ No, I checked the mail before coming today and it was… God it was just sitting there, haunting me… And I ran”
“ Fuck, oh… God I…” His dimples were showing. This was so important.
“ Well open it!”
“ Who? Me?” he asks in shock, green eyes opened to no belief. “N-no way, this is your letter… Yeh have t’open-“
“ I’m shaking, I can’t open it!” You say hopping up and down and shaking your hands. He breathes in and out and nods before tearing the paper open. You rest against the locker behind you covering your eyes. This is the most nerve-wracking moment of your life.

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1st Place prize: A short personalized fic for @onepiece-sinning-forest

Request:  How about Laws s/o being on of the mechanics of the submarine, and telling him (while they’re in the dive with the submarine) the oxygen supply has gone empty and they have no more. 

Congratulations on the first place prize!  Also…this was supposed to be short…oops.

She/Her pronouns were requested!!


She swore, as the blast from the Seaking tore a hole in the ship.  Fighting against the pressurized water that was rushing through the tear in the way, she wiped the condensation off the odometer.

Fuck.

Eyes stinging from seawater, she hastily boarded up the gash against her ship.  A crude placemaker that did very little.  Checking the oxygen levels of the ship, she swore even more. 

Scrambling against the gushes of water, she clawed for supplies, making hastey repairs, messy computations, and quick fixes.  

As the drops of water became a puddle.  And as the red needle before her started dipping down, she admitted defeat.

They couldn’t continue on like this.

Scrambling for a pencil and paper, she tapped the pencil furiously against her forehead.

With the submarine losing pressure and over 3,000 leagues under the sea and calculating the rate of oxygen they were using, and of course roughly estimating the amount of oxygen the crew consumed over an hour, according to the calculations, reaching the surface….

It wasn’t going to be enough.

Stunned, she blinked at the number swimming before her.  Slowly, she pushed a red button.

An alarm ripped through the stillness of the boiler room, a stark red contrast against the incoming blue water.  Her legs felt weak as she ascended the ladder from her boiler room to the bridge.

“(Name)! What’s wrong?” The distressed polar bear asked as the crowd of Heart Pirates swarmed her, frantic from the last battle.

“Tell Law to get us up as fast as we can.  The last hit we took tore a gash through the oxygen supply and the lower bridge.  We’re running out of time.  Get us up as fast as you can without crushing this vessel.”

She felt a familiar presence at her right side.  A familiar arm brushing against her own.  The familiar warm enveloping her own, calming her heart slightly.  “Damn, we were right, Bepo.  I thought I felt something.  (Name)-ya, are we going to be able to get to the surface?”

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Home

A/N: Took Monster Falls and decided it could only benefit from the inclusion of TAU’s Henry Pines and the kids. Thus there is Mabel/Henry (a well-developed, much-beloved TAU OC), plus a bit of Dipifica on the side. This is mostly fluff with very little plot to speak of. It’s also really long.

Please enjoy. :)


Henry Corduroy hadn’t been planning on Gravity Falls being a permanent, for-the-rest-of-his-life thing. He was never opposed to the vague possibility, of course – he rather preferred small towns over the city – but when he first set out it had been, in his mind, a starting point, possibly a stepping stone on the way to whatever the rest of his life was going to be.

It had been logical. He had family in the town as a point of familiarity and safety and a place to stay until he could find his own. There was an opening at the local library and, miracle of miracles, his application had been accepted – possibly because his Uncle Dan was a local and trusted as a reference, whatever his parents had to say about the black sheep of the Corduroy family.

It was just a first step, a first job in the field he had wanted since he was halfway through high school, and as a bonus it was a long, long drive away from the house he grew up in.

And then he met Mabel Pines.

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A guide to friendship (and definitely a little more)

Also on AO3

“Katsudon.”

Yuuri jumped, though he’d seen it coming. Slowly, he faced Yuri. “Yes, what is it?” Maybe he had done something wrong again.

Yuri looked away from Yuuri’s anxious face. “I need to talk to you.”                 

The anxiety didn’t go away. “O-okay,” Yuuri nodded. He was glad they were taking a break and he wasn’t on the ice. He still remembered that one incident where he slipped on the ice because someone made him jump. Takeshi refused to forget it and brought it up occasionally after.

Yuri led him to a backroom, far away from the skating rink where Victor was training. He leaned against a table and Yuuri stood awkwardly at his side, his face all scrunched up.

“What are you looking scared for? It’s me who’s nervous.” Yuri’s direct words made Yuuri jump.

“You’re not going to complain about me?” Yuuri asked carefully.

Yuri huffed. “Of course not. I would have done that in front of the others, not here.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” Yuuri still wasn’t thoroughly convinced. “What did you want to talk about?”

“First you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone about this.”

“Not even Victor?”

“Especially not Victor.” Yuri’s mouth drew a tight line. “Promise?”

Yuuri could only nod. “Promise.”

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This Isn’t a Ghost Story, It’s a Love Story

Klaroween Weekend: Day One = The one in which Klaus falls in love with the ghost of his mate.
a/n: slightly angsty, but with a happy ending; one paragraph of this makes it not so SFW, but it’s definitely not NSFW.


Oh, little ghost, you see the pain
But together we can make something beautiful
So take my hand and perfectly
We fill the gaps, you and me make three
I was meant for you and you for me
(Strange Bird – Birdy)


The first thing he felt was cold.

Not the good kind of cold. It wasn’t late night walks during winter, snowball fights or Christmas. It was the dreadful one, like corpses and being lost inside the darkest woods… Like his insides had been turned into ice, freezing his heart that was working so hard to beat. It felt like loneliness and desperation.

Then came the pain.

That horrific feeling of laceration - as if someone was cutting the walls of his stomach with a dagger very slowly - made him sink to his knee. The hurting made him unable to breathe; his lungs screamed in agony and that agony brought him heat.

It was as if his body was burning from the inside out, melting the ice that had been installed only moments ago, yes, but also melting his flesh and his bones with it.

His vision was turbid; his consciousness fading into a state of chaos in which the only rational thought he could have was that she was dead.

His mate was dead.

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anonymous asked:

Ooh you should do like a sneaking off after a show and fucking kinda thing idk lol. And take yo time gf 💗

you told me to take my time but this has been sitting in my inbox for the longest time and the writing itself has sat partly finished for just as long and i am so sorry about that and don’t even tell me it’s ok because it’s not and i hope it was worth the inexcusable wait

Three weeks alone was all it took for you and Michael to get lonely. Your boyfriend was historically needy, and tour didn’t help it. That’s why, not even a month after he left, you were boarding a plane with a suitcase full of everything you’d need for the next four months. Sure, maybe Michael had a little bit too much of a hold on you, but you were okay with that. It was how things always worked. 

You enjoyed watching the love of your life doing what he loved. He had given you tickets for a few rows back from the stage, right in front of his mic stand. This gave you a good view of him and gave him a good view of you. For this reason, you’d decided to have a little fun. He hadn’t yet found the alone time to please you, which made the four month dry spell even worse. Sure, if you tried hard enough you could get yourself off, but it was nothing compared to Michael. 

You walked into the venue that night in a tight knit pencil skirt and crop top, knowing how much it drove him crazy. Your breasts were accentuated by a lace push-up bra and you wore the matching thong. This, along with the jumping around and dancing you were planning to do, would most definitely drive Michael to the edge. You, as it turned out, were right. As the show went on, Michael’s crotch began to get visibly harder. He started to tease you back, moaning a few times into the microphone and rolling his hips. And, of course, you didn’t overlook the curling of his fingers, beckoning you to meet him backstage. You left the pit a few minutes early, showing your VIP credentials to security and making your way backstage. 

“Hey, you guys did great up there-“ You smiled as soon as Michael entered the room. He scowled and shook his head, grabbing your wrist. 

“C’mon,” He pulled you along behind him, starting down a corridor. You smirked to yourself, knowing you plan had worked. He stopped suddenly. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Michael put a hand on his hip. You looked at him in confusion, as you hadn’t made a joke or done anything. 

“What are you on about?” You asked. He rolled his eyes jokingly, stepping closer to you. 

“You think it’s so damn funny to tease me all the time.” He whispered “And don’t even act innocent here, Y/N. I know you don’t just accidentally move your hips like that. You know what you’re doing when you do it.” 

“Me? Tease you?” You put a hand on your chest, feigning offense “Michael, I would never. I’m so appalled that you would think so low of me.” 

“Hilarious.” He gripped your hips tightly “I just hope you know what you got yourself into. This-” He pushed his crotch against you, making his raging hard on evident “Isn’t going to go away on its own.” 

“PornHub exists for a reason, babe.” You teased, wrapping your arms around his neck. He shook his head. 

“You did it, you get rid of it.” He smirked, pulling away slightly and grabbing your hand “There’s a secluded bathroom over here. We won’t be long.” 

“Someone might hear.” You pointed out, only to tease him further. He let out a whine before continuing to pull you along. 

“I’ll be quick, babe.” He assured you, opening the door to the bathroom. You both stepped inside, you being happily surprised when it wasn’t grimy at all. He had a history of finding the worst places to hook up while out in public. This time, though, you had to give him credit. He shut the door behind him, smirking as he turned to you. 

“What exactly do you have planned?” You asked, sitting on the counter. He started undoing his belt as he approached. 

“We’re gonna see how fast can I make you cum.” He pulled down his pants and boxers just enough to let his erection loose. You looked from his crotch to his eyes and back again, admiring your boyfriend’s body. 

“Well, we don’t have all day.” You taunted. He rolled his eyes, pushing the fabric of your knit pencil skirt up your thighs. His fingers toyed with the lace of your thong. 

“Don’t even tell me you didn’t want this.” He hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties “Wearing that skirt and lace for me, baby… I bet you’ve even got on your matching bra.” 

“You wouldn’t be wrong.” You shrugged nonchalantly, tugging down the neckline of your top. He licked his lips lustfully. 

“God, the things you do to me.” He pressed his crotch against yours “I’ve been waiting all night for this.” 

“Me too,” You agreed, pulling him closer to you “C’mon, we don’t have time for this. We’re gonna get caught.” 

“I wouldn’t mind.” He bit down on his lower lip. His hands ran up and down your thighs, inching closer to your exposed panties. “Oh, you definitely planned this. Look how soaked you are.” 

“Please just fuck me.” You groaned “Please, Michael. I’m begging you.” 

“You know I’m a sucker for that.” He tugged on the lace of your panties, easily discarding them. Smirking, he looked up at you. “That’s much better.” 

“Can you just- Michael, please?” You squirmed in anticipation. The precum dribbling from his cock only made your situation worse. He held up a hand, grabbing a condom from his back pocket. 

“Better safe than sorry.” He grinned as he rolled the rubber over his length. You moved so that your feet could rest on the counter, spreading your legs to grant him access. He licked his lips eagerly as he watched you take a finger to your clit. 

“Michael, I swear to God if you don’t move soon I will get off by myself.” You threatened, biting your lip to hold back a moan. He moved closer to you, slowly pumping his cock. 

“No need, babe.” He assured. His large hand moved down to cover yours, holding it down. “Keep your hand there. I like watching you play with yourself.” 

“Stop teasing and put your dick to good use.” You rolled your eyes, more than frustrated with how your boyfriend seemed to be delaying things. He hovered over you, one hand still wrapped firmly around his cock. 

“Can I go fast, baby?” His free hand went under your chin, tilting it to give you a better view of his face. You nodded eagerly. “Fast and hard, just how you need it?” 

“I don’t care, whatever you want.” You threw your head back in frustration. He grinned, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock. 

“You’re so wet for me.” He placed a hand on the mirror next to your head. You moved your hips, hoping he’d get the idea that you couldn’t wait much longer. 

“Michael, c’mon, I’m done fucking around.” You groaned 

“Oh, but baby, I’m just getting started.” He feigned a pout, slowly sliding himself into you. A whine passed your lips at how deep he was getting. 

“Jesus,” You breathed “Come on. Do something.” 

“Are we impatient, Y/N? Hm?” He teased. You grabbed the collar of his sweaty shirt, pulling him closer. 

“Yes, I am, so if you would just-“ 

“Don’t worry,” He murmured, attaching his lips to your neck “I feel the same way. Ugh, I don’t know how I survived three weeks without you.” 

“It’s not the same pretending my hand is yours.” You admitted, clenching your fists as Michael began to thrust at a steady pace. He let out a laugh, burying his head in your neck. 

“I agree, but that’s not what I meant.” He mumbled “I miss more than a body, Y/N.” Your face flushed, flattered by his statement. You loved Michael more than anything else, and it was nice to have reminders that even felt the same. Every time you were in bed with him, it felt more like making love than just fucking. It meant something to you and him.

“I love you,” You sighed in content, feeling Michael’s tip hit your sweet spot “You know how to make me feel good.” 

“Mhm,” He groaned “Fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer.” 

“Well, yeah. I think we could all tell you had blue balls onstage.” You teased. He grunted, pounding into you relentlessly. You gasped loudly in surprise. 

“Oh, please. I’ll make sure you cum before I do.” He scoffed “Shit, you feel so good wrapped around my cock. Nice and tight, just how I like you.” 

“Have me, then.” You groaned, throwing your head back. He smirked. “Fuck, Michael, right there.” 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He mumbled, burying his head into the crook of your neck. You nodded halfheartedly, overwhelmed by the pleasure. He knew exactly what to do to get you in the palm of his hand and he never wasted an opportunity to use his powers. You could feel his cock beginning to throb inside you. “Y/N,” Michael let out a load moan “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum. Baby, cum with me.” 

“Oh my god,” His dirty talk was enough to send you into waves of pleasure. Your eyes rolled back as he continued riding out his own high. 

“I think that’s a new record.” He breathed “I don’t think I’ve ever came that fast before, much less made someone else do the same.”

“I think I need a minute.” You blinked, meeting his lust-filled green eyes. He swiped a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Take all the time you need.” He nodded “I’m gonna go back to the dressing room. Can’t have the boys getting suspicious, can we?”

“I would think not.” You agreed. He smiled, pulling up his painfully tight skinny jeans. Within seconds he was walking out the door like nothing had even happened, leaving you and your still-shaking legs behind.

anonymous asked:

Hello! I was wondering if you could help me find a way to get rid of someone in my life. They're really triggering to my past, and just basically push all my buttons. I end up feeling drained after them, and as a fairly new witch I would really appreciate some help!

After a quick search of banishing on my blog, I have found a few things that might be helpful to you!

Breelandwalker’s Banishing Powder
“Please Leave” Banishing Powder
Banishing Masterpost (lots of goodies)
“Can you not” Spell Jar
Letting go Banishing Spell
Paint The Mirrors Black: Banishing/Binding Thing
Removing toxic friends
Restraining Order Bottle

You can also check out my curse tag, if thats your thing! Lots of goodies for getting someone the hell out of your life for good there.

Also, on the mundane side of things, a “get the hell out of my life, I never want to see you again ever” works pretty well too on most people. Good luck!

Title: The Five Times Pietro was a Jealous Idiot.
Ship: Pietro Maximoff x Wanda Maximoff
Warnings: Twincest? Not so much a warning, but yea. Also, this isn’t for people who like the whole Vision x Wanda thing going on (comics or MCU). Yea.
AN: For vintagelacerosette, and her prompt “Protective Pietro against Vision’s friendliness towards Wanda”. OHMYGOSH I LOVE YOUR PROMPT SO MUCH SO I REALLY HOPE THIS IS WHAT YOU’RE LOOKING FOR. I’ve been waiting for a request of Maximoff jealousy, especially Pietro, SO YAY FOR YOU THANK YOU!!! As always, I apologize if there are grammatical and spelling errors. I really did enjoy writing this tho, I hope there aren’t any. :D Enjoy! (Fic under the cut).

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How to get out of a rut

For starters, let me say thanks to everyone who sent me kind words yesterday. I wasn’t in a very good place, but your messages of help and support really made a difference. 

So today I’m trying to start over. Trying to break myself out of this slump that I’ve been in for the past week or so. So here’s what I did. If you feel stagnant, lethargic, sluggish, or weighed down by negativity, try a few of these. 

1. Bath/shower magic. It’s a great way to perform a basic cleansing, and rid yourself of some of the negativity holding you down. Use special scrubs, masks, or even just some charged shower gel. Afterwards, use a nice smelling lotion and put on clothes you’re comfortable in. 

2. Stay hydrated. If you feel sucky physically, it’s going to transfer to your mind. Drink tea and try to keep a water bottle on hand. Charge your drinks with healing, so every sip gives you a bit more energy. 

3. Cleanse your space. Right now, I’m working on cleansing my bed and my desk. Cleaning things both spiritually and physically will improve focus and make you feel better physically. If you have any sigils or crystals or magical items, cleanse them too, and charge them in the sunlight for an extra boost. 

4. Find a friend. I was lucky enough to have some friends to talk to, witchy and non-witchy, who really helped me out. Venting allows you to get rid of some of your negative energy. If you’re talking to a witchy friend, they can send some positive vibes your way and give you some spell suggestions. 

5. Do something you enjoy. I know if you’ve ever been unfortunate enough to experience depression, sometimes even the things you like doing don’t interest you. But try to take 10 minutes and do something you like. Read, write, paint, exercise, play video games, draw sigils, anything. After 10 minutes, you can decide if you want to keep going, but even that short time can boost your mood. 

Remember that none of these things will make the problem go away completely. Magic isn’t a quick fix, it’s just a boost of energy to help you. If you have a serious mental condition, you should look into getting help. As someone who has an anxiety disorder, getting treatment improved my condition 110%, and while witchy things help, they’re no substitue for a professional. 

Wow, this post got kind of long. Oh well. Thanks again to everyone who helped me out last night. Take the time to send some positive vibes to a few of your followers. If nothing else, remember that this too shall pass. Blessed be!

The Mechanic

“Here comes that idgit boyfriend of yours.  If you really loved him you’d make him get rid of that POS Continental.”

Dean grinned and wiped his hands off on a rag.  “It’s because I really love him that I let him keep his POS Continental.”

Bobby harrumphed and pointed a clipboard at him.  “You’re still on the clock, so no quick breaks that turn into two hour lunch-slash-nookie sessions in the backroom.”

“Dean made a face.  “Nookie?  No one calls it that anymore.”

“No making whoopie, then.”

“That’s even worse!” Dean groaned.

“And whatever you do, don’t let him get near the you-know-what.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean waved him off and stepped out of the garage and into the small parking lot in front of Singer’s Autoshop.

Castiel was parking his boat and blocking in two Hyundais and a Subaru, but that’s what those people got for not buying American.  His boyfriend slid out of the car, still wearing his green apron from the bookshop he worked at around the corner.

“You’re early,” Dean said with a smile, pulling him in for a tight hug.

Castiel grunted on his inhale as Dean squeezed him a little too tightly.  “God, Dean, I feel like you’re going to set me ablaze whenever we’re together.”

Den laughed and slid his arms down Castiel’s back until he could grip his hips and push him roughly against the side of the Continental.

“In a good way, I hope.”

“Yeah…” Castiel trailed off and let Dean kiss him.

Castiel wasn’t kidding—the heat between them was so different from Dean’s past experiences.  It had always been like electricity or static with the others.  With Cas—it was fire.  A warm little spark that glowed in his heart all the time and the barest touch of Castiel’s fingertips to his skin could ignite into an ardent conflagration that promised to consume him whole—burn him up into ash.  But he wasn’t afraid of it.  He craved it.  Which was a little frightening in and of itself.

“Dean,” Castiel’s weak voice cut through the roaring flames just enough for him to gather the shreds of his control and pull back.  He kept his hands on Cas’ waist and his lips against Cas’ lips—but he let them breathe.

“I can’t—“  Dean swallowed, suddenly thirsty.  “I can’t go out tonight.”

Cas nodded, his nose bumping Dean’s lightly.  “S’okay.  Came to tell you the same thing.”

Dean frowned.  “Why?”

Castiel laughed and pulled back enough for them to not look like two crazed psychopath nymphos in a public parking lot.

“What does it matter?  You can’t go out anyway.”

Dean shrugged.  “It doesn’t.”  Except that he was crazy and didn’t like other people spending time with Cas if he couldn’t.

“Relax, big boy.  It’s family stuff.  Nothing to be jealous about.”

“M’not jealous,” Dean pouted.

“I know,” Cas said patronizingly and patted his cheek.  “Anyway, it’s just tonight.  I’ll see you tomorrow.  Unless…after I’m done I can come over…?”  His voice lilted up hopefully.

Dean sighed.  “I wish I could say yes, but my thing could take awhile.  Family stuff.”

“Gotcha.”  Castiel cocked his head slightly.  “Can you imagine the day when ‘family stuff’ means each other?”

Dean let out a small laugh and blushed as he looked down.  “You proposing?”

“No…just thinking…what it would be like to bring you to one of my family events.”

Dean did the same, trying to imagine Cas armed to the teeth and covered in blood.  “No…I don’t want that…” he murmured.  “My family stuff…we’ll need to make our own family.”

“I’d like that…but…”

“Not now.”

Castiel nodded.  “Not now.  But…perhaps…”

He trailed off, seemingly unable to figure out when “then” would be.  Dean couldn’t help him.  He didn’t know either.

“Anyway,” Cas said, breaking the slightly dreary spell.  “That’s all I came to tell you.”

“You could’ve called,” Bobby said gruffly as he passed by them to give the keys to one of the blocked in cars to the owner.

“I could’ve,” Cas agreed.  “But then, I couldn’t do this.”  He leaned forward and kissed Dean again, and Dean moved his hands from Cas’ waist to his face to hold him close and not let him pull away.

When at last Castiel managed to disentangle himself from Dean, the owner of the blue Hyundai had been trying unsuccessfully to pull forward and back up twenty times in order to fit his car through the small gap left by the Continental.

“See you tomorrow,” Castiel said with a final kiss and got into his car.

Dean waved at him as he drove away, and then he walked back into the garage.  Bobby was eyeing him, but didn’t say anything.  He didn’t have to though; Bobby was just that good.

“No, I haven’t told Mom and Dad I’m dating a non-Hunter.  No, I don’t plan on doing it any time soon.  No, I don’t plan on breaking up with Cas.”

Bobby made a noncommittal grunt and continued looking over the clipboard in his hand.

“You just have to be aware of how these things end.  If he ever finds out you Hunt Magickers for a hobby, he’ll just think you’re insane.”

“It’s not a hobby.  Our ancestors managed to rid the world of magic once, we can do it again.”

“Must not have been completely rid if it’s still around today,” Bobby pointed out with his patented dry bluntness.

“Yeah…someone must have managed to escape.”

“Or was helped.”

“Who’d help a magic user?”

Bobby looked up from his clipboard and met Dean’s eyes.  “You know I’m not one for sentiment, boy, but don’t ever underestimate what love will make someone capable of.”

Dean dropped his eyes, feeling like that was some kind chastisement, or warning, directed at him.

“Yes, sir.”

Dean looked in the direction of Z.A. Books and wondered what Castiel would think if he knew there was magic in the world.  Dean turned his back to his surrogate uncle to hide his smile.  Cas’ excitement would probably set the whole world ablaze.

anonymous asked:

I really love Frames (I love everything you write!) and I really hope you plan on writing more! P.S. I like high key love you!

And I love you!  Yes, I can most definitely do another part to Frames.  Here it is, comin’ ‘atcha!

(Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Epilogue)


Groaning as your alarm goes off, you slip your arm out from under the covers, quickly fiddling with your phone as you slip your finger across the screen, your body shivering at the cold air slipping under the covers as you pry your eyes open.

“Back to work,” you murmur as you raise up, your torso shivering as you throw your feet over the edge of your bed.

Pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, you lift yourself to your feet as you go stumbling out into the main room.

“Spencer!  You up yet!?”

But you are met with silence as a terrible reminder of the night prior.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking into the bathroom, you pull your pants down as you sit on the toilet, your eyes shutting as your bladder slowly begins to empty itself.

Good, god, you really needed to pee.

Sighing as you reach for the toilet paper, your hand knocks something off of the bathroom counter as you open your eyes to the clattering sound.

Spencer’s shaving cream can.

Furrowing your brow as you look around for the toilet paper, you find it placed on the roll beside the toilet, the paper downturned as your eyes slowly begin to flicker around the bathroom.

Spencer’s toothbrush resting against yours in the cup.

Spencer’s washcloth drying out on the side of the sink.

Spencer’s dirty socks in the corner by the shower.

Spencer’s toothpaste haphazardly thrown into the sink, coated with his facial hair.

“Oh, god,” you whisper to yourself as you quickly pull your skirt up, stumbling out of the bathroom as your vision begins to tunnel.

“Spencer!  Spencer!”

Hearing rapid footsteps behind you, you feel someone catch you underneath your arms as they help you to the couch.

“Y/N!?  What is it?  What’s wrong?” he breathes.

Slapping his hand away as his eyes widen at you, you put your head in your hands and take a deep breath as you slowly bring your scared gaze back up to his.

“Why is your stuff in my bathroom?” you ask.

Watching as he furrows his brow, he searches your face as you feel your hands begin to shake.

“Because…it’s more convenient that way?” he upturns the answer.

“And…and why is your facial hair in my sink?” you stammer, your breath coming in quick pants.

Feeling involuntary tears spring to your eyes as you throw yourself to your feet, you barge back towards your room as you throw open your ex-husband’s empty clothing drawers, only to be stared in the face with…

…clothes.

“No,” you say, shaking your head as you stumble back, the back of your legs hitting the bed as you plop down onto your mattress.

“Y/N…?” you hear Spencer say tentatively as he lightly knocks his knuckles against the open bedroom door, “Can I come in?”

“No,” you say as you hold up your trembling hand, the reality of the last few days hitting you in a wave.

Spencer at your side.

Spencer making you breakfast.

Spencer in your bed…

“I can’t do this,” you breathe, feeling yourself hyperventilate as you bring your hand to your chest.

“Y/N,” Spencer says quickly, rushing to your side as you shove him away.

“No!” you say, jumping up as your legs waver, stumbling you into the wall as your back collides with a thud.

“What is going on!?” he yells, causing you to jump.

“Go home,” you mutter, your eyes darting everywhere before you squeeze them shut.

Ground yourself, Y/N.

“I can’t leave you like this,” he says weakly.

“You can’t…I can’t…just…no,” you choke out.

Talk to me,” Spencer stresses.

“Don’t come any closer!” you yell, your eyes flying open as you hold your hands out again.

Watching him stop, his eyes pleading with you to talk with him, you draw in a shaking breath before you say it.

“You are not him,” you state.

“I…I know…?” he questions.

And then, realization.

“Oh god, oh Y/N…” he says as he rushes to your side.

“I know…oh my god, I am so sorry.  I never meant for it to seem like-”

“Just…please.  Please get out,” you plead, feeling the tears rush down your cheeks as you scoot away from him.

“That’s fine.  I’ll move back to the guest room,” he says as he gets up and begins throwing his clothes out of the dresser.

“No, Spencer,” you whisper.

Watching him pause as he slowly looks over at you, you watch his face fall as he swallows hard.

“Y/N, just let me move back.  I swear it’ll be alright…” he trails off.

“Get…out…” you breathe, trying desperately you pull yourself together.

Spencer moving in petrified you.  You had just gotten rid of one fungus…one virus…one disgusting man…and having another quickly take his place made you feel sick to your stomach.

“Please…” Spencer begs.

Opening your eyes as you push yourself further into the wall, wishing you could meld in with it, you take a deep breath and roar into the room.

“Get…the fuck…OOOOUT!”

It took Spencer all of 27 minutes to grab his stuff and leave.  And he left without a word, and without a sound.

You sat in that corner with your eyes closed for what seemed like an eternity.  You no longer felt competent in your ability to return to work.  You no longer trusted your judgement in the field.  You no longer trusted your inner voice, the one that had coaxed Spencer into your room late one night in the first place.

The buzz of your phone brought you to reality.

Scurrying for it on your knees, you pick it up in your trembling hands, a little part of you wishing desperately for it to be Spencer.

But it was Morgan.

What did you do?

Feeling your lip tremble again as the tears quickly fall once again upon the screen of your phone, you quickly type in a message, spelling errors and all.

I freajked.  And I panikced.  And I hrutt him.  And Im soorry.  Tell him he wda wonderfuul.  Its me htats broekn.

And then you mindlessly dragged yourself into bed, peeling your clothes off and closing your eyes, the sun still streaming through your window when you fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Letting the water run over your body as you recount the awful events of the prior day, you lean your head against the shower wall as your waterproof radio drones it’s talk show in the background.

Your plan was to tell Hotch that your judgement was still flawed.  He didn’t have to know why, only that you didn’t trust yourself in the field.  He would let you lag behind with Garcia, or stay at the police station.  You were sure of it.

Yes, that was your plan.

Stay as far away from Spencer as you could.

You weren’t ready to fall in love.

You weren’t ready to be vulnerable.

You weren’t ready to be healed.

And you sure as hell weren’t ready to talk.

commandercod  asked:

I hope this isn't too intrusive of a question, but could you share a little about how you do your editing process? Your stories always turn out so beautifully, and I'd love to learn how to edit better, if you would be willing to share your process/some tips?

I would be happy to share, and thank you so much for asking! :D 

(Apologies for how delayed this is!) 

Tiny caveat before I dive in: please consider whatever I say in the light of what works best for you and your writing style! Nothing here is set in stone; feel free to pick and choose whatever works for you, and leave the rest. The beauty (and frustration) of writing is that we get to build our toolboxes from the ground up, but I hope you can get a little out of this that can help! 

1. Don’t edit as you go. I know this is tough for a lot of people, and I still struggle with it, but getting bogged down in every little mistake as you write really impacts your momentum, and can yank you out of the story just as you’re starting to get a good flow going. I tend to write in sprints – one hour of uninterrupted writing, break, then another sprint – and I find it helps to tell myself “Just write for one hour, and then you can go back and fix everything”. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t, but giving myself permission to focus on getting a first draft – however messy and awful it is! – down on paper helps me make progress. And that’s always helpful. 

Keep reading

Brothers

David and Killian have a conversation they both need about their brothers and about about why David is there in the Underworld. This is my contribution to the one year anniversary of Captain Charming Friday. Rated a very low T.


David walks back into the room. “I’m glad you found each other and everything,” he says, more loudly than necessary. Emma and Killian break off their kiss. “But could you please not be doing that every time I walk into a room?”

Killian gives him a sheepish smile and Emma rolls her eyes.

“Consider this catch-up for the fact that you never had to deal with me as a teenager. And payback for you and Mom True Love’s Kissing every chance you get. Besides, I had to put up with so much worse from you after Mom and I got sucked to the Enchanted Forest, and neither of you were even dead for that.”

“I didn’t actually come here to interrupt,” David admits. “I came to get you because Regina is planning on doing some sort of spell to warn us if Hades is approaching and she wants your help with it.”

She almost pulls Killian along with her, but eventually lets go of his hand after giving him another quick kiss. David is sure he is obligated, as a father, to object. He doesn’t.

“Emma told me your brother moved on,” David says as she leaves the room.

“Aye. I wish you had a chance to meet him under better circumstances.”

“Well, I’m told he is a bit like me,” David says. “But that can’t be right. I mean, I wouldn’t know anything about making a bad decision to protect your family, then lying through your teeth when the Queens of Darkness… er… the lord of the Underworld shows up,” he adds with a grin.

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anonymous asked:

Hey, #BlackBeltAnon here. I am just shy and i have already fangirled all over you once or twice, you might think me insane. Can you please write something about how Harry and Daphne met and some scenes from their relationship, from the same Dramione/Drinny drable you just wrote. Sending a hundred hugs and kisses, and then a thousand more.

(HI BLACKBELT. Don’t be shy, I don’t think anyone on here is insane! And I feel great when people fangirl all over me beCAUSE I AM A DEMON THAT FEEDS OFF ATTENTION [jk]. Seriously though I always appreciate the hell out of people who enjoy what I write <3 I’ll never think you guys are crazy!)

[ This is part of the Needing Is One Thing; Getting? Getting’s Another drabble series! The rest can be found HERE! ]

A year and a half was a long time to go without loving someone.

Which was crazy, because he’d certainly gone longer, in his life. Harry Potter had spent the first eleven years of his life having the love slowly beat out of him, after all. He’d thought himself in love with Cho Chang, but that wasn’t quite correct.

He thought himself in love with Ginny, but maybe Ginny had just been what was easiest at the time. She loved (idolized?) him. He loved her family.

That felt like it could have been enough, but in the end, it wasn’t. They’d both cried when they’d ended things, but Hermione was quick to assure him that some things were for the best – that sometimes people just didn’t work out, even when they really wanted to.

Now, Harry wondered if she was trying to hint at something, because she and Ron had split up just two weeks prior. It was damn depressing, really. Why did young love always have to grow up?

And why did it have to hurt so much when it did?

“Are you the one that has my cousin’s case?”

Harry startled a bit, blinking owlishly up at the vaguely-familiar woman. She had blonde hair and green eyes, and for a second his mind tried desperately to place her. He knew he knew her, somehow. Hogwarts, maybe? “Uh, I’m sorry, your cousin is…?”

She huffed a soft laugh, shooting him a wry look. “Come on, now, Potter, we’re only four years out of school. Surely I wasn’t that forgettable? Our class size was, what, a hundred people?”

“Greengrass!” he blurted out, his eyebrows shooting up. She’d grown up in an interesting way; he barely remembered her at school, to be honest, always kind of mentally lumping her in as one of Pansy’s insipid little gaggle. “Wow, it’s been a long time,” he said, feeling his face heat a bit with embarrassment at his mental slip. “Sorry, I knew I recognized you, I just couldn’t… Yeah.”

She laughed, shrugging, and for a moment they just stared at each other as Harry momentarily forgot why she was even here. After a beat, her eyebrows rose. “So… my cousin…?”

“Oh! Right! Yes, sorry, yes, I do have it,” he said, scrambling to find the file. “Um, I can’t release it to you, though. I need his parents’ approval.”

Her face flickered, and she swallowed. “Alright,” she said, with a wan smile.

“You can get it, can’t  you?”

Her smile tightened. “They’re not too fond of him, or of me. We weren’t really… sympathizers,” she said, pointedly. Harry knew that, of course. The Greengrass’ hadn’t been among those that supported Voldemort, at least not openly. But the Montagnes – their French-born cousins – had been. The parents had been put to trial like everyone else and were sentenced to ten years in Azkaban.

The son had ran.

“If he wasn’t a sympathizer, why’s he on the run?” Harry pointed out, gently.

“Well, you and your group were stringing up everyone even loosely affiliated, weren’t you?” she pointed out, with a bit of a bite to it. “He watched it happen. Why would he expect leniency?”

“The Malfoys got a full pardon,” he reminded her.

“Well, they saved your hide, didn’t they?”

Dumbstruck, Harry stared at her for a few moments. “That’s not why they got pardoned.”

“It’s why you testified on their behalf. No one’s going to go against your word. You’re the Golden Boy,” she said, softly. “Besides, he’s already run. That’s at least five years, you know. Or, at least, it was before.”

“New administration,” Harry said, firmly. “If he’s innocent of any Death Eater activities, he’ll be pardoned for fleeing.”

She was silent a beat, not quite daring to hope. “Can you promise me that?”

“Yes, I can,” he said, without hesitation.

Daphne held his gaze for a moment longer, searching his eyes for something that he wasn’t saying. What she saw must have satisfied her, though, because she smiled – small and tired. “Thanks. For promising, anyway. I know it’s not entirely in your hands.”

Harry’s smile was wry, self-deprecating. “Well, you never know. I am the Golden Boy.”

She laughed, and the sound was soft and melodic. “I’ll work on that approval,” she promised, turning away. “For now, I’ll leave you to your work. Until next time, Potter.”

“Later, Greengrass,” he murmured, watching her go.

A year and a half was a long time to go without loving someone. That was probably why he couldn’t stop thinking that she looked awfully pretty these days. There really was no other excuse for that kind of insanity.

Right?

Keep reading

when someone bookmarks ur fic with a passive aggressive comment and wants to be spoonfed information that was already implied by dialogue and circumstance

when someone suggests how a fic should have ended 

when someone corrects ur spelling unprompted

we make all these posts about wanting comments but no one asks the people making comments to practice some etiquette and restraint, as if every single comment, even the backhanded ones, or the ones that say nothing good and only seem to exist to let you know ur garbage brain used the wrong “their/there/they’re” or repeated a word should be adored and appreciated.

pro tip: YOU DON’T HAVE TO. you don’t have to swallow every comment someone puts on your art or writing. you do not have to throw yourself onto the ground and thank someone for DEIGNING to read your work, or reblog your art. YOU. DO. NOT. HAVE. TO.

some TIPS, then:

1. BETA-ING WITHOUT BEING ASKED TO BETA SOMEONE’S WORK IS RUDE AS FUCK SO DON’T DO IT

2. stop commenting with “usually i hate this ship/trope/au”. just. stop. 

3. stop suggesting different ways the story could have gone

just, please. i watched a person completely shut down a story, their first one, because the readers were critiquing the length of their chapters and how they were developing the plot. 

i’m sorry i just don’t think the comments is the place where you tell a person how to be a better writer.

a writer or an artist is putting their work out there to be observed. honestly, if your comment can’t be nice or supportive, then keep it to yourself. and always ask yourself - if i got this comment, would it make me happy or frustrated? would it make me want to continue creating?

just.

stop and think.

(except you SHOULD comment when u find works that are super gross and problematic. example: read a fic where a canonically gay character was written to be bi-sexual. this is ERASURE and HOMOPHOBIC and should be called out. you should call out a writer who writes a story with excessive triggers, but doesn’t tag for them. never stop doing that. keep people in check.)

and same for art like - don’t fucking comment on someone’s art with your own fucking opinion on it, okay? put that shit in the tags, make a post about it or something but don’t clutter up someone’s art post with some BS about how this reminds u of ur OC or something stupid like that

I AM SO SALTY AND BITTER TODAY GUYS BUT I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT JUST BECAUSE YOU WRITE AND ART DOESN’T MEAN YOU HAVE TO BE GRATEFUL FOR EVERY SINGLE COMMENT THAT COMES YOUR WAY ESPECIALLY IF THOSE COMMENTS HURT YOUR PROCESS OR DO NOT ADD ANYTHING TO WHAT IS HAPPENING. IN FACT, GET ANGRY WHEN THEY DETRACT AND HONESTLY, YOU CAN DELETE COMMENT SON AO3, SO IF A COMMENT IS HANGING AROUND AND IT MAKES YOU FEEL TERRIBLE, GET RID OF IT.

IF SOMEONE REBLOGS UR ART AND WRITES GARBAGE UNDER IT, CALL THEM OUT. (it’s really too bad you can’t turn off the caption element on an image post sometimes)

okay i’m done i’m sorry i know this is super rude but i just don’t care anymore. thank you to those who continue to comment kindly and supportively, and know that if you have done any of these things to me i am NOT MAD AT YOU because i get over stuff pretty quick, but know that some people can get deterred from creating very quickly so it is important to be kind and supportive as they grow into their artistic process.