since it's north's time of year and all

An Iron Grip- Chapter 1

I posted about having this Gajevy fic that’s been sitting in my computer for a few years and thanks to all the encouragement I’ve decided to finally start posting it- all in all its about 40 chapters long give or take a bit; I’m going to update about 3 times a week with a new chapter so you guys dont have to wait too long :) This is my first fic so i’d appreciate some constructive criticism <3

Pairing: Gajevy

Words: 3,045

Will update every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday :)

Summary: There is no magic. There is no wizards or dragons, that was all just make believe- or so Levy had been told. Her world is turned upside down when a dark guild comes after her, searching for a rare book, and everything she thinks she knows turns out to be wrong. Unwillingly thrust into a dark hidden underbelly of Magnolia city she must trust an unlikely band of misfits, a magic guild called Fairy Tail. Will Levy cave under the pressure or will she grow to be more than she every thought she would be and make some new friends along the way?

Chapter 2. Chapter 3. 

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         The world swirled around Levy, black and white flashing ever faster. She was falling and falling fast. There wasn’t even enough time for her to scream; the air was sucked out of her lungs as the air cut past her. The fall seemed like forever even though she was sure realistically it was only a few seconds. But everything slowed. She’d hit the ground soon, she was sure of that too. The ground was hard concrete, unforgiving and cold. And she was just so so small. She wouldn’t stand a chance in hell against it. Levy squeezed her eyes shut and let herself fall. There was nothing she could do but wait for the floor to meet her. This was it. This was how she was going to go- alone and weak. This was it.

   'I’m so sorry Gajeel, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you’ she thought to herself.

   And then everything stopped.

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On This Day...

On this day in 1816, English poet Lord Byron hosted fellow ex-pats Percy Shelley, Mary Shelley, Claire Clairmont, and his personal physician John Polidori at his rented summer home at Villa Diodati in the village of Cologny near Lake Geneva, Switzerland. The weather outside was miserably cold and rainy, preventing any lake excursions. To pass the time, Byron read from the Fantasmagoriana; a French anthology of German ghost stories. At the end of the reading, Byron challenged everyone present to devise their own horror stories. This challenge resulted in Mary Shelley writing Frankenstein, Polidori in writing The Vampyre, and Byron himself in writing the poem “Darkness.”

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#21 : Game of Thrones AU (Part 2)

(The second part, set immediately after THIS post.

Since this fic grew into something way bigger than I first anticipated - though I’m not sure WHAT I expected, it’s a friggin’ Game of Thrones AU after all - the next [and hopefully the last] part will be posted somewhere around the weekend.

I have purposefully omitted some of the House names from the GOT canon. For example, Robb Stark’s name is never mentioned, though a lot of the events connected to him still happen. If you see ‘Warden of the North’ in the story, you can imagine either Robb or think about some other TMI character in his place.

There is no Magnus in this one, but please bear with me. There will be a lot of Malec goodness in the final part.

Also, I’ve been running on 4 hours of sleep per day since Saturday, so please don’t pay attention to any potential grammar mistakes and/or typos.

CLICK ‘KEEP READING’ FOR THE REST OF THE FIC.)

—–

The North goes to war.

Robert knew for a long time that it was inevitable, but he didn’t expect it to happen so fast. But Valentine is a greedy, insane king and he demands more from the North that its inhabitants are able to give. Food and resources and money - Valentine doesn’t care if he leaves the region in ruins, as long as he is safe and sound in the Red Keep when the winter comes.

The Warden of the North decides to fight back and all his bannermen are called to arms and march towards King’s Landing. Robert’s fighting days are over, ever since the hunting accident a couple years back, where a boar tore his leg open from knee to hip. Robert survived, but swordsmanship and riding long distances are out of the question, the agony from an old wound making both unbearable. He traded armor for leathers and a sword for a cane.

In his stead, Alec takes up the mantle of a Lord commanding the Lightwood forces. Him, Jace and Isabelle are an unbeatable trio, capable of leading their men into victory even in dire circumstances. Their identical armors are crafted with black steel, with a silhouettes of enormous wings on their backs, made with white gold. The symbols are fashioned after tales of old religion, where humans with wings were chosen by the spirits to bring death and vengeance upon the undeserving. 

The Lightwood army is small, made mostly of guards and men who patrol the borders and the Morghot forest - all in all, they have around one thousand men. What they lack in quantity they more than make up in quality of their warriors. Almost half of Lightwood soldiers received special training in Alicante, the ancestral home of the Branwells. Their men are strong, fast and light on their feet. They favor attacking at night, often from an ambush, under the cover of darkness. These particular skills earned them a name from the Northern small folk, who call them shadowhunters.

Once Alec and Lydia marry, the two armies will merge - and that could cause concern among other noble houses, since one shadowhunter is worth ten normal soldiers.

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Pictures of You (Reader x Bucky) (1/?)

I’m trying my hand at a series. Hopefully I’ll be able to post regularly as well as make the occasional drabble/one-shot. Feedback is appreciated! Enjoy!


You’re a writer that moves to New York in hopes of finding inspiration when you meet Bucky Barnes. (AU!Bucky)


Warnings: none.


Maybe it was the buzz of the city, but something about New York City that just filled you with inspiration. It was possible that you genuinely could finish your book here since you used your book advance to get you up north.

As much as you loved Texas, inspiration ran dry after living there all your life. Of course leaving your life behind there was bittersweet but after 23 years there, it was time for a change.

Sitting in a taxi, you stared out the window and the bright lights of the city intimidated you slightly. The sun had begun its descent across the sky when your plane landed and now dusk was settling over the bustling city. You were like a child in a candy shop staring in awe of the sheer size of the city and noticing the landmarks you had only seen in film and tv. You had a condo set up already in the city that was already furnished. The plan was to stay in New York for three months; just after the new year.

The taxi driver dropped you off at the steps of your condo. the sidewalk of your street had trees outside every condo and, with the holiday season, each of them were wrapped up with twinkling lights and lit the sidewalk. You grabbed your small duffle bag and walked up the steps into the condo. upon unlocking the door, it opened to a short hallway with two open door ways to your left and one door leading to the guest bathroom. The open door ways led to the living room and kitchen, respectively. At the end of the hall was a set of stairs that led to the master bedroom which was open to overlook the kitchen and living room. This was the main thing that sold you on this place.

You tossed your duffel bag near the door, kicked off your boots and decided that unpacking your clothes could wait for tomorrow.

You collapsed onto the love seat in front of the large flat screen television and gave yourself a moment to think over the last few hours.

You knew absolutely no one in the city, aside from your publisher. You were a complete stranger in a new city and part of this excited you; this was a chance for a clean slate, a new start.

A quickly google search led you to a small coffee shop near your place. You managed to fall more in love with your new environment on the walk over. Since it was the middle of fall, the trees were changing colors and fallen leaves crunched beneath your boots. Being in New York finally gave you a reason to wear your winter gear that had been neglected in Texas. You were comfortably warmed by a thick scarf and beanie, courtesy of your best friend back home.

You arrived at the café which was small and located in the middle of a busy shopping area. Luckily it was pretty empty for early evening. You pulled the door open and was immediately met with the warm aroma of coffee and sweet pastries. The whole café was decorated with holiday cheer. Holographic garland hung from the counter and Christmas trees sat in every corner.

You cradled your hot coffee in your hands while you settled into your small booth near the window. A soft voice cooed over the entire café and every other booth or table was taken by people in pairs or groups. Minimal talking was happening when the door to the café opened once more and two large figures walked through.

“I love the fall!” A voice boomed out. You looked over to the door subtly and saw the voice belonged to a broad shouldered blond. He only wore a crew neck sweater and jeans which immediately made you conclude he was born here. “The leaves, the cold weather, it’s all just so great. Right, Buck?” He turned to the man than followed him in.

As you looked to the man behind him, your eyes widen slightly in surprise before staring down at your coffee cup. He was absolutely gorgeous; from what you could tell. You peeked up through your lashes to study his sharp features once more. His hair was slightly longer than his friend, a lot shaggier and darker. His jawline stood out as his hair curved towards it. His lips were full and curved into a shy smile. You made the mistake of glancing up at his eyes and made a strange sound at the back of your throat that you didn’t recognized as your own. They were unmistakably blue and lined with full, thick lashes. You could drown in those blue eyes

“Yeah, yeah, punk. I just want my coffee not a whole story.” His voice was smooth and deep-it made you blush right away.

The pair continued to chat animatedly and rather loudly across the café from you. You had to admit that Bucky, whose name you figured out from eavesdropping a bit, inspired you and you had to write everything down. Reaching into your side bag you pulled out your small journal and opened to a fresh page and started writing down every detail of his face. You wrote out the details of his hair that he would constantly push back, how muscular he looked as his long sleeve shirt stretched across his broad chest, and his eyes to the best of your ability.

You were so engrossed at your task at hand that you weren’t aware that the very blue eyes you were trying your best to describe were glancing at you. Those eyes took note of your legs that were crossed under the booth and your leg shaking at a constant tempo as you scribbled into your journal. They were curious as they swept over your features and took note of your furrowed brow and pursed lips.

“Who are you staring at?” The blond turned around and looked for the source. His friend was zoning out and completely ignoring the story he was telling.

The brunette’s eyes snapped back to his friend and he gave an easy smile, “Oh come on, Steve. We both know that you’ve told this story to me more than once.”

“Are you staring at that (Y/H/C)? The whole writing in the journal?” He asked in an accusatory tone and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

Bucky gave a soft laugh and slunk back into his chair slightly, his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink. “Well now you and everyone in this café knows.”

“You should go talk to them. Looks like your type.” He suggested as he turned to stare st your form again.

“Um, nah. I’m fine. How’s work?” He was desperate to change the conversation since he knew his friend too well. He was all for jumping in head first and completely against taking your time when it came to love.

“You’re not getting off the hook that easily, jerk.”

“Punk.” He responded automatically.

“Go talk to them.” He urged again, more gently this time.

Bucky put his head down, fidgeting with his coffee cup and shook his head slightly. He didn’t see you stand to toss your empty cup away, but Steve was quick to notice and stood suddenly to meet you at the bin.

Bucky looked up to see his friend walk away and groaned inwardly. Of course he would.

You saw the blond headed towards you and you tried your best not to stare. He was just as handsome as his friend but his features were much friendlier, more open and far less brooding.

“Hello! I’m Steve, Steve Rogers.” He greeted and extended his hand.

You glanced at his hesitantly before placing your hand in his. “Hi, Steve.”

“I’d just like to apologize really quickly for my buddy over here. I’ve realized he’s been star-“

Steve was cut off by a hand slapping down onto his shoulder and a tight voice, “What are you doing, pal.” The brunette was just behind him with a tight smile and his face was flushed.

Your face began heating up as you held onto your journal and was reminded of the contents within.

“Oh, I’m just meeting someone new. Spreading my horizons.” Steve continued and maintained eye contact with you. His eyes were just as blue and mesmerizing. He moved a bit to wrap his arm around his friend and slapping his chest a few times. “This is here is my best pal, Bucky.”

You gave him a small smile, “Hi, Bucky. I’m (Y/N).”

Bucky’s eyes softened at your voice, “It’s great to meet you, (Y/N).” He cleared his throats and ran his hand through his hair. “So is this your first time in this café?”

“We’re regulars here.” Steve added.

“Well, yes. It’s my first time in New York, actually.”

“Where are you from?” Bucky asked.

“Texas. So this cold weather is very new to me. We don’t get much of a winter in Dallas.”

Bucky nodded at the information while Steve’s eyes shot up. “No kidding. Buck and I were born and raised in Brooklyn. We’d love to show you around some time.”

“Oh, that’s very thoughtful of you. But I mean, we’ve only just met. Not too sure I should trust you…” You teased.

“Ah, well there’s always a chance we could be serial killers.” Steve joked and nudged at his friend to encourage him to join in on their banter.

“Well serial killers make up 1% of cases so I could have very well gotten that lucky.” You noted and fidgeted with your journal. Both of them laughed in response.

“What’s that you got there? Journal or sketchbook?” Steve motioned at the journal in your hands.

“Journal. I’m kind of a writer. I moved here for some inspiration on my next book.” You said shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear. Bucky still hadn’t said anything, you figured he was shy and continued to be the center of Steve’s attention.

“Oh really? What genre?”

“Well my first one was a romance novel. I’m very embarrassed of it but it was a hit. I’m very grateful but I’m trying my hand at crime thrillers.”

“That’s a dramatic turn.”

“Yeah, well I have a degree in criminology. Figured I could put it to some use.”

“Well I hope you figure it out. I’m an artist myself. I love sketching. Anything and everything. Buck here is real good with a camera.” He gestured to his friend who has yet to say anything.

You almost thought he didn’t like you but with the way he was studying you made you think otherwise. Throughout the conversation with Steve you had to mentally remind yourself to look at Steve while he spoke to you.

“You’re a photographer?” You finally made eye contact with Bucky and you nearly melted at his shy expression.

“Yeah. Mainly landscapes but occasionally portraits.” He finally said.

“Well I’m in need a new cover picture. Think you could help me out?” It was a risk but you couldn’t help feeling a bit confident after the way he stared at you.

Bucky blinked at you for a moment and was nudged again by his blond friend. “Y-yes! I can…I can help you out.”

You smiled at him and opened your journal to rip a piece of paper. “Here’s my number. You can call me whenever you’re available to shoot. Or even show me around.” You tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, praying that your voice didn’t sound too eager or high pitched. You wrote down your cell number along with your name before handing It over to Bucky.

He grabbed it happily. “That sounds great. I’ll be sure to, (Y/N).”

You could honestly listen to the man say your name all day.

You bit your lip and looked between the two men. “Okay, well I’m headed out. It was great to meet you guys.” You say as you head towards the door.

Steve gave you a small wave and a bright smile.

Before you could walk out the door, Bucky called out, “I’ll call you!”

You smiled to yourself and thought that New York was looking even better.

ananasbooks-deactivated20150616  asked:

Hi! So recently I read Gone with the wind and it basically ruined my life. It also got me into this classics mood, which I get every now and then. And I know you're a classics queen, so I thought I would ask for recommendations? I read 5/6 of Jane Austen novels, Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, Anne of Green Gables, and loved them all. I just seek some nice XIX cent. romance novel that will help me forget about the pain. If it's not a problem.. Thank you so much (in advance) <3

Hello! 

‘Gone With the Wind’ is such an amazing book. It’s been four years since I read it, and I still think about it all the time. While I do want to reread it, I do not know if I can bear it ending all over again. I so wanted it to last forever.

If you’re looking for a lovely classic 19th century romance, I can only recommend that you read ‘North and South’ by Elizabeth Gaskell. It is such an amazing novel, filled with social criticism and a central conflict much alike to ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen.

Also, have you read ‘Little Women’ by Louisa May Alcott? It is such a quaint and heartwarming novel about four sisters growing up during the American Civil War.

And then, there’s ‘Middlemarch’ by George Eliot. Technically, it isn’t much of a romance novel, but it does examine some aspects of romantic love, lust and longing, and it is quite beautiful. Worth every page.

As you mentioned ‘Anne of Green Gables’ yourself, I’d like to recommend ‘Emily of New Moon’ by the same author. The Emily-books are so overlooked, and it pains me dearly as they are so beautiful and lovely. They also hold my favorite romantic hero of all time.

Generally, almost all of Montgomery’s novels can be read as sentimental romances. I quite like ‘The Blue Castle’ myself. In some ways it is perhaps similar to ‘Persuasion’ by Jane Austen, though not as satirical.