the first three is the family and the second the 'for me'

(some of) the best mcelroy things
  • the shit they talk about their own early episodes because they know how god awful they were
  • the fact all three of them (+ Clint) have matching tattoos 
    • LoZ tattoos for that matter, where each brother has a different part of the tri force filled in, and clint has all 3 filled
  • griffy got that tattoo on his wrist specifically bc he didnt want a job that would be dicks about tattoos
  • the way justin will just go “ok that’s fine” if one of the other two is like ‘i dont wanna talk abt this’ even if its a goof
  • the fact trav and justin inexplicably have the same birthday 3 years apart
    • and then when griffin was like “i know how u feel [about a jumbotron description] every november 8th i just sit in bed and wail”
  • travis watched pirates of the carribean like, 9 times in theatres when it first came out - several of which as dates
  • griffin tried to have a dog in his “pet-free” apartment in college and it only lasted like, four days before they got found out
  • travis’ entire character development in taz results from his fear of losing his wife because he loves her so so much
  • the way that, at every ridiculous stunt and every heartwrenching moment the boys pull in TAZ, griffin goes “oh my GOD”/ “oh god….”/ “oh no..”
    • likewise the cackling that clint/travis/justin do at those same moments 
  • “"A family highpoint for me was the time my dad beat us at Clue in one round,“ recalls Clint’s second son Travis. “It was at that moment that I realized that my father is the most clever man on the planet. Notice that I didn’t say the smartest man. We’re talking about a man who, until he woke up on the basement floor several hours later, didn’t see anything wrong with dumping excess kitty litter and bleach down a sink at the same time in a poorly ventilated room””
Small Candle Spells

Originally posted by heartsnmagic

Not every witch has the means to collect tons of exotic ingredients.   Sometimes, all you have is a candle and a wish.  So, I have put together 10 small candle spells.  (The types of candles I am talking about are tea lights or small, tapered little fellas.  Relatively cheap and easy to use!)  Hope this becomes a resource for you all!  Let’s get started!  <3 Salt


BLACK CANDLE:  Protection

You will need:

  • One Black Candle
  • Sheet of Paper
  • Pen/Pencil

Spellwork:

  • Write down what it is you wish to protect, be it your home, your family, yourself, etc.
  • Light the candle.
  • Chant the following ten times:

By the time this black candle has waned,
the blessing of protection be gained
by all that fall beneath its wax
be safely guarded from attack.
Until the next waxing moon appears,
protect all that I have written here.

  • Allow the candle to burn completely down and the wax to spread across the paper. 
  • Fold it and keep it until the next waxing moon.
  • Repeat as often as needed.

WHITE CANDLE:  Spirit Communication

You will need:

  • One White Candle
  • Photo of the Person you wish to speak to

Spellwork:

  • Before bed, light the white candle and focus on the flame.  Let’s its warmth ignite the love you feel for the person you wish to communicate with.
  • Say their name allowed.  Speak of the memories you have with them.  Let the memory of them come to life in your mind.
  • When you are ready, recite the following spell:

Before I rest my head for the night,
I ask that my heart’s call to you,
(say their name), be answered.
In dreams, let us be together again
and share the embrace of love.
I await your visit
and, for it, you have my deepest thanks.

  • Blow out the candle and visualize their face in your mind’s eye.
  • Once the wax has cooled, place it and the picture together near your bed.  You are free to sleep.  Enjoy the visit!

PINK CANDLE:  Self-Love

You will need:

  • One Pink Candle
  • Piece of paper (cut into a heart shape)
  • Pencil or pen

Spellwork:

  • On the heart paper, write down the positive aspects and assets you have.  It can be anything (from pretty eyes to being compassionate.)  Fill up the paper and fold it into a half heart.
  • Hold it in your hands and shut your eyes.  Deeply breathe, and focus on your pulse and the things you wrote.  Focus on yourself.
  • Recite the following incantation:

I am who I am
flawed, challenging, human
I am who I am
soulful, in communion with the universe
I am who I will be
ever-changing and growing
And I bow to the purpose that resides in me.

  • Light the heart paper on fire, allow it to turn to ash, and blow out the candle.
  • Anoint your forehead and the center of your chest with hearts made of ash.  Meditate on the self and what your purpose might me.
  • Anytime you feel the need to revisit self-love, use the ashes and light the candle again.

PURPLE CANDLE:  Accessing Gifts and Talents

You will need:

  • One Purple Candle

Spellwork:

  • On the night of the New Moon, sit in a quiet, dark room.  Light your candle and concentrate on expelling all the static energy from your mind.  
  • Focus on your the gifts you would like to explore.  An example?  If you are drawn to Tarot, have your deck nearby and envision yourself shuffling the cards.
  • Repeat the following chant 13 times:

My mind is clear, my heart is too
Reveal my gifts, deep and true

  • Open your eyes and stare into the flame.  Let the fire of inspiration illuminate the talent you want to access.
  • Invoke the gift by whispering:

On this night, and all nights to come,
I will open myself to this ancient power
and allow discovery of my true potential.

  • Blow out the candle and keep by your bedside.  When you practice a gift or talent, light it until there is no more wax.

ORANGE CANDLE:  Calling Your Inner Child

You will need:

  • One Orange Candle
  • Divinatory Tool (Suggest: Tarot or Oracle cards)

Spellwork:

  • Light the orange candle and begin shuffling your cards.
  • When you feel that you have shuffled enough, hold the cards in your hand and focus on the flames.
  • Say the following spell:

Bring future to past
with this candle’s light
and provide for me
childish insight.
One card to tell me of my woes,
another about the child within,
a third cast to bring us together
so that we may begin again.

  • Draw three cards.  The first will represent your position right now (who you are and what you have been going through); the second will represent your inner child and what insights they can provide through their innocence.  The third and final card will show you what will happen if you allow the present you and your inner child join together.
  • Light the candle whenever you need guidance from your inner child again.

LIGHT BLUE CANDLE:  Fortune and Glory

You will need:

  • One Light Blue Candle
  • Money (coins or paper money)
  • An Award or piece of Recognition (trophy, certificate, etc.)

Spellwork:

  • Anytime on a Sunday (the day where workings for wealth, achievement, goals, and promotions correspond), place your candle between your representations of fortune and glory.
  • Put one hand on each item, and say:

I humbly ask for the Universe and all the powers within it to look upon these representations of fortune and glory.  I light this candle to honor you and ask for the following blessings…

  • Light your candle and return your hands to rest on your items.  Recite:  

By the light of this flame,
sweet fortune I do claim.  
Wealth and wisdom I do gain.
By warmth of this flame,
glory granted to my name.
Recognition I do gain.

  • Allow the candle to burn until there is no more wax.  Collect what is left, store in a jar, and keep in a place you conduct business.

YELLOW CANDLE:  Invoking the Spirit of Air

You will need:

  • One Yellow Candle

Spellwork:

  • At 3 PM, go outside and bathe in the light of the middle of the day.  Light your candle and place it in front of you.
  • Fisting your hands, place them on either side of the candle and say the following incantation:

Here and now, I call the element of Air.  Summer breeze and roaring wind, echoing melody and lifting wings, ever-dancing.  I call you forth to infuse my intention with your swirling fits of both song and silence.  Carry my will on your back and raise my purpose into your sky.  Breath and cloud, sound and song.  Air, I call you to me.

  • Open your fists and allow for the spirit of Air to translate through your palms and into your center.
  • Let the candle burn for five minutes and then blow it out, keeping it when you need it again.

GREEN CANDLE:  Invoking the Spirit of Earth

You will need:

  • One Green Candle

Spellwork:

  • At night, go outside and bathe in the light of the moon.  Light your candle and place it in front of you.
  • Fisting your hands, place them on either side of the candle and say the following incantation:

Here and now, I call the element of Earth.  Soil of fertility and growth, fecund source of stability, stillness and health.  I call you forth to filter away all that is impure, and to stand rooted in this world.  Mountain and dust, footstep and stone.  Earth, I call you to me.

  • Open your fists and allow for the spirit of Earth to translate through your palms and into your center.
  • Let the candle burn for five minutes and then blow it out, keeping it when you need it again.

DARK BLUE CANDLE:  Invoking the Spirit of Water

You will need:

  • One Blue Candle

Spellwork:

  • At twilight, go outside and bathe in the light of the fading sun.  Light your candle and place it in front of you.
  • Fisting your hands, place them on either side of the candle and say the following incantation:

Here and now, I call the element of Water.  Tranquil and powerful, rippling and deep, abundant resource of life.  I call you here to infuse my intention.  Wash my will in your flow, carry my purpose on your current.  Dewdrop and lake, clarity and storm.  Water, I call you to me.

  • Open your fists and allow for the spirit of Water to translate through your palms and into your center.
  • Let the candle burn for five minutes and then blow it out, keeping it when you need it again.

RED CANDLE:  Invoking the Spirit of Fire

You will need:

  • One Red Candle

Spellwork:

  • At sunrise, go outside and bathe in the light of the new dawn.  Light your candle and place it in front of you.
  • Fisting your hands, place them on either side of the candle and say the following incantation:

Here and now, I call the element of Fire.  Heat and flame, passion and love, anger and wildfire.  I call you forth to burn away all that impedes my highest vision and to enact change in the world.  Lightning and hearth, heart and forge.  Fire, I call you to me.

  • Open your fists and allow for the spirit of fire to translate through your palms and into your center.
  • Let the candle burn for five minutes and then blow it out, keeping it when you need it again.

Ring Once

Story by reddit user Pippinacious

I’d never been good in storms, but I was even worse in hospitals, so when the choice came to go visit Nana, my ma’s mother, or stay home and brave the thunder and lightning on my own, I only hesitated for a moment before making my decision.

“You sure you don’t want to come, Hannah?” Ma asked, hovering uncertainly in the doorway leading to the garage.

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Tools for Mentally Ill Students #1

Hey guys! So I’ve been thinking a lot about what I use to control my mental health and keep me on track to recovery. Little things that make life easier for when everything seems hard. They’re not going to work miracles, but they can at least help, so I thought I’d share them with you. Here’s part one.

The DBT Wellness Planner

This planner uses dialetical behaviour therapy to help you bring order to your life and keep track of your emotions. I received it as a gift a few months ago and it has helped SO much. I really recommend this.

Anxiety and Worry Workbook

A lot of students cannot access therapy, whether because of money or your family or whatever. Workbooks can help you start developing skills by yourself. It’s hard, but if you put just a small amount of time into it consistently, you could really help yourself overcome symptoms. Add it to your schedule like homework. I have chosen this workbook because anxiety is something so many students struggle with.

Fidget Pen

We all know by now that fidget toys can be more distracting than anything. However, a lot of people with anxiety and similar symptoms can find fidget toys grounding. This pen is perfect for study, as it’s less likely to be taken away from you by an ignorant teacher. Just make sure you’re the kind of person who is helped by these things!

Sleep Supplement

Sleep is something most students struggle with, and the side effects can be seriously damaging to your mental health. You may be able to get a sleep aid from your doctor, but many don’t prescribe them to young people for fear of them forming a habit. A natural sleep supplement might be a good alternative. Though they don’t work for everyone, and are not as strong as prescription meds, supplements with things like melatonin, magnesium, and valerian root can give you a little extra push towards sleep. I find them especially useful when I can’t sleep because of anxiety. (Always keep in mind your specific body and needs before taking supplements).

Pill Reminder Clock / Reminder Bottle / Portable Bag

Remembering to take meds can be hard. Even apps can be easy to miss and ignore. That’s why I’ve added three different options to help you remember your meds. The first is an amazing alarm clock that says stuff like “Good morning, please remember to take your morning pills”. The second is pill bottles with caps that automatically count down from when you last took your meds. The third is a set of containers that fit into a small, discreet portable bag. 

Fitness Tracker

Regular exercise can be vital to help you regulate emotions and sleep. A fitness tracker can help you keep this up. You don’t have to fork out for a Fitbit, especially since you’re a student. There are plenty of cheaper options out there. One like this, with a heart rate monitor, can also be good for tracking anxiety. 

Intake-Tracking Water Bottle

We’ve all heard it a million times- we should drink more water. It’s not gonna cure us, but it does help our overall health. However, it can be hard to remember to drink enough, which is where bottles like this come in. It’s clearly marked showing you how much you should have drunk by different times of the day.

“Watch your head, Krav,” says Magnus.

“You’re taller than I am,” Kravitz points out, amused, but he ducks as he moves into Magnus’s study. 

The scent of fresh-brewed tea and scones waft with them up the stairs. Higher in the house pervades the scent of raw wood, lending the top floor a permanent earthy smell, accompanied nicely by the food cooking downstairs. There’s another picture on the wall. It’s tucked between the image of Taako and Kravitz on their wedding day and Carey and Killian on theirs. (Magnus was best man for both.) The new one is of Angus, playing catch with Magnus: it’s composed of thick, dark strokes, clearly sketched in Lucretia’s hand, and the frame is of hand-wrought oak, the same oak of the trees surrounding Magnus’s home.

“Here we go!” Magnus says, retrieving the letter with a pleased a-ha!, and handing the letter to Kravitz. “For Julia.”

Kravitz accepts the letter with a reassuring nod, tucks it in the pocket of his suit. There are creases around the corners of this pocket where he’s tucked a letter in there hundreds of times before.  

Angus is teaching Magnus to write more neatly, to line his letters correctly, where to use commas and where to use periods instead. Kravitz never reads Magnus’s letters, but Angus tells him that Magnus makes excellent progress. 

The invitations to his and Taako’s wedding were written in Magnus’s own, painstaking hand.

Magnus shuts the drawer and says, almost absently, “Tell her I love her, okay?”

Kravitz pauses, debating. He takes a deep breath. “Magnus,” he says, and Magnus, detecting the shift in his tone, looks up immediately. “You know that she already knows, right? She knows that you love her,” Kravitz says gently. “You do tell her every time.”

Magnus chuckles, rubbing a sheepish hand along the back of his neck. “I know,” he says, turning a bit pink. “I just - I love her, you know? I really do. And I guess, when you love someone, you want to tell them that every chance you get.”

Kravitz thinks of Taako. Kravitz finds himself nodding, then finds himself blushing as well at Magnus’s knowing look. “I suppose you’re right,” Kravitz concedes.

Magnus smiles, gaze drifting to the picture-laden wall. The entire wall is pocketed with dozens of pictures of his family, all smiling back at him. “I can’t wait to tell her myself,” he says, voice wistful.

Kravitz stiffens. He struggles to find words. “Magnus….”

The hesitation in Kravitz’s tone breaks Magnus out of his reverie, and he laughs. “Don’t worry, Krav. I don’t look forward to dying anymore,” he says, and gestures around his home with one hand, the other clasping his Stone of Farspeech, a small smile suffusing his face. The smell of tea and scones drifts lightly around them, the burnished afternoon light cheery as it dapples off the wall. “I’ve got too much to live for.”

“Good,” Kravitz says, and means it. Magnus slings a companionable arm over his shoulder as they head back down the stairs, and after so long in the man’s company it’s a comfortable weight.

“Do make sure you tell her though, yeah?”

Kravitz laughs, a glint of humor in his eye. “Ten years and I’ve never failed you once,” he says, and Magnus chuckles at that.

“I know, I know,” he says, and his smile softens. “But I can’t tell her myself, so I’m entrusting it to you.”

He pats Magnus’s hand reassuringly as they reenter the kitchen. “Okay,” Kravitz promises, smiling quietly. “I will.”


Taako doesn’t believe in words. Words are too easily manipulated, he claims, and his manner of speaking reflects that: he is flippant, his inflections curling up with indifference. It’s not often that he makes promises or declarations with solemnity. 

So when he says I love you Kravitz treasures it, not because it is a sacrifice, but because it is an absolute truth - it’s an admission of trust, that Taako loves him enough to hand over a part of his very soul and know that Kravitz will care for it, gently.

For a while Kravitz wondered, because Taako doesn’t say it often - not nearly as often as Magnus, who says it every time Kravitz retrieves this month’s letter. Then he realized: Taako cooks. He says I love you all the time; he just doesn’t use words. His affection goes into the pot roast that Magnus marks as his favorite, the perfectly-grilled salmon that Kravitz loves, the oolong-and-scones for Merle and the cinnamon-chocolate cookies for his sister, because Lup loves peanut butter but Barry is allergic.

In this regard, Kravitz is more similar to Magnus than he thought. Magnus, brave and brash Magnus - when he’s not crushing people in an embrace, or slinging a casual arm around them, or letting them rest a head on his shoulder, or pulling them into a noogie reminiscent of a bear’s iron grasp - sticks with his tried-and-true “I love you,” which he says with such painful earnestness that he leaves no room for doubt. 

Where Magnus says those three words, Kravitz says “Thank you.”

Thank you, to Taako, for the salmon. Thank you, to Lup and Barry, for a tirade of relentless jokes after a long week of reaping. Thank you, to Merle, for the nuggets of wisdom he dispels and the return of Kravitz’s green thumb. Thank you, to Magnus, for the hand-crafted piano that is their living room’s crowning jewel.


Magnus’s wall is full, now. His pictures spill over to the opposite wall, ringing the window that leads to the field outside, where Angus and Johann scamper around the yard. The most recent addition is a group photo of the Starblaster crew at Merle’s beach bar. Twenty years after the Day of Story and Song, Lucretia and Davenport are arm-in-arm.

He hands Kravitz a letter. His handwriting is smoother these days, but he retains the thick lines that demonstrate just how similarly Magnus wields a pen and an axe. Before Magnus can say anything, Kravitz stops him.

“Thank you,” he says.

Magnus looks up, a smile on his face that suggests he knows exactly what Kravitz means. “What for?”

And Kravitz says, simply: “Everything.”


Magnus dies surrounded by family, smiling.

In the white space between life and death, Kravitz steps forward and outstretches an arm. Magnus accepts it gratefully. He’s as young as the day Kravitz first met him.

Kravitz leads him beyond, gently, easing the passing as much as he can. Magnus slings an arm around Kravitz’s shoulder as they go. They step onto an island, a cottage that is familiar to Kravitz. Kravitz can hear barking inside, as he always does, and Magnus steps forward, about to rush in, and -

stops.

“Kravitz.”

Kravitz turns. “Yes?”

Magnus looks at the cottage for a long, long moment. Already, his eyes grow red, and Kravitz feels his own prickle sympathetically. Then he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a sheath of letters. After so long, the words are perfectly-formed. He hands them to Kravitz. 

“You know what to do, my friend.”

Taako, says the first letter. Then, as Kravitz shuffles through the stack: Merle. Lucretia. Angus. Lup. Barry. Davenport. And at the bottom: Kravitz.

When Kravitz is confident he can speak without choking up, he says, “I’ll send these along.”

“Thank you.”

Kravitz laughs, quietly. “Of course, Magnus.”

Magnus watches him for a long moment, then steps forward and pulls him into an embrace.

Kravitz returns it gratefully. This is certainly not goodbye, but it’s melancholic all the same. 

Magnus’s voice is almost small. “Tell them I love them, okay?”

We already know, Kravitz thinks. He thinks of the wall full of photos, the ever-present scent of homemade food in Magnus’s house, the vines curling up the woodwork. He thinks of the sketch of Julia, sketched in thick, dark strokes, that was created on their wedding day by a woman with curly black hair but a hood tight over her head. He thinks of the thumbtack under which Magnus has pinned every single one of Davenport’s postcards. He thinks of the second stack of letters Magnus keeps tucked right next to Julia’s, addressed in the same small, neat hand that taught Magnus how to write.

But he says none of that. Instead, he nods.

“Okay,” Kravitz promises, smiling quietly. “I will.”

Office-mate who loves CNN but doesn't understand how televisions work is destroyed by that which she loves most.

I work in a small office with only 6 people. The way the office is broken up I share my office with another person, so we’re essentially facing each other. It’s away from the other offices, so we’re kind of left to our own devices. I’ve been working here for about three years now, and have always gotten along with my office-mate. My old office-mate left to start a family, so I’ve been alone for a bit before they hired Marge.

Marge is what you’d find if you googled “worst office-mate.” She brings in smelly food she eats at her desk, she plays loud music in our shared space (even after being asked not to), she fights with the boss on every little thing, she’s nosy (always asking me where I’ve been when I walk back into the office, and I’ve literally caught her listening in at the bosses door). She asks me invasive questions, and when I finally snapped at her to mind her own business she acted like I’d personally assaulted her.

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Free The Animal

Word Count: 6k

Genre: Smut, Angst (will I ever stop being emo?)

Author’s Note: You ever forget that you’re a fanfic writer then you write a fic so bad you remember how much of a hack you are? Yeah welcome to my fic :’D

dom!jungkook- fuckboi!jungkook- fuckbuddy relationship- dirty talk- thigh riding mention because damn even I am not immune to his thighs- inspired by Sia’s song and part of the song drabble game. You can find links to the rest of them on my masterlist

Loving You To Death (Sequel)

There he was with his hands up some girl’s skirt, grinding on her like he was trying to fuck her through their clothes, the fucking pig. You huff and turn to your friend who gives you an exasperated look, “___, just go and grab him by the dick and tell him he can’t fucking do that.”

“He can do whatever the fuck he wants to do, even if that is a bleach blonde bitch with a tan that makes her look like an Oompa Loompa.” That was pretty low, you admit. It wasn’t the girl’s fault that Jungkook had chosen her for the night. But seriously, there was a limit to tanning, this was just harmful to the eyes.

“No, he can’t because you’re together.” Your friend, Hwasa, sounds pretty fed up with you.

“No, we’re not. We’re just fuck buddies and we agreed that we’re not exclusive right from the start.” Why wasn’t she understanding this? You’d explained it to her a thousand times.

“I don’t care what bullshit you told each other. All I care about is what I see, and that is two idiots constantly doing all they can to piss each other off because they can’t communicate like adults.”

“What are you even talking about? Jungkook is not trying to piss me off. He’s just being himself. Which is admittedly annoying in and of itself but you know…”

“Then why did he do nothing the past three days but play video games while you were off galavanting with Jin, only to start making out with some girl the minute you make an appearance?”

“He did?” You asked surprised, only to check yourself back and shrug it off. “I don’t know, he must have just not felt like it.”

“Oh my god, save me from these two idiots.” Hwasa cries then takes you by the shoulder and starts shaking you, “He’s fucking jealous because you took Jin to meet your family and not him so he’s trying to piss you off. Why? Because he likes you. And you’re pissed off. Why? Because you like him. Now can you get that through your thick skull or do I have to beat it into you?”

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CAN WE TALK ABOUT NORA VALKYRIE REAL QUICK

Hey but forreal I wanna talk about Nora Valkyrie for a second and why she’s my favorite character in the show.

Originally posted by dingo-sniper

We have to take into account each hunter/huntress’s backgrounds for this to work, and once we do, you’ll notice a pattern. Naturally, paying for the training and a basic custom weapon + ammunition it takes to become a hunter/huntress in training takes no small amount of money, which would most likely be coming from their parents.

Pyrrha comes from a background of fame and fortune and presumably a normal family, so it is no surprise as to how she is able to afford Beacon and her custom weaponry and ammunition.
Jaune comes from a long line of warriors; his family name no doubt has a lot of prestige and power behind it.
Blake’s parents seemed to be the only family with a mansion in all of Menagerie, and are deferred to by the White Fang. Not to mention, Blake joined the White Fang at an early age and got extra training and experience beyond her peers.
Weiss comes from the Schnee family, owner of the Schnee Dust Company, one of the richest families in all of Remnant.
Ruby and Yang, though not super rich, are descended from three of the most infamous hunters and huntresses in the world, and would naturally get certain privileges other children would not, such as training and elementary combat schooling.
Even Ren, who was an orphan for most of his life, was still raised by a seemingly upper-middle class family with a warrior father. Even after his parents’ deaths, their savings would transfer to him anyways.
All of Nora’s classmates have come from backgrounds that gave them some monetary (or otherwise) advantage. Becoming a hunter/huntress can be safely assumed to be a vocation reserved for the upper-middle/upper classes of society.

But Nora, from birth, has had next to nothing to her name. No family, no money, no food; just her and the streets. As a child, she likely slept in the forest and under houses, and had to beg and steal just to make it to the next day. She’s dealt with bullies and law enforcement, starvation and sickness, without anyone’s help. Of all of her classmates, she has had to fight the hardest to get where she is today, and somehow remains positive about it regardless. This is exemplified in her fighting style: swinging around a giant hammer at lightning speed. She hits fast, hits first, and hits hard. This isn’t finesse or style, like Pyrrha or Weiss. She learned that from fighting to survive from day one.

Originally posted by jaunearcinadress

Without the funds necessary to acquire a custom weapon such as Magnhild with ammunition that would be more expensive than most such as grenades, she most likely had to become one of the top students in her class with very little experience, and probably without even adequate clothing or previous education. Other classmates could have bought their way up with better gear and better training, but Nora Valkyrie earned it all through sheer hard work.

But she hasn’t let her past define her or even touch her in any way. She remains positive and infectiously bright through the worst of times, and loves and cares for her friends with a vengeance because she hasn’t had any before and isn’t willing to let go any time soon. And as a result, she has one of the hardiest auras of the show. This, combined with her extreme and extensive training, has granted her intricate knowledge of the inertia of her body and Magnhild during combat, a technical skill generally unnecessary unless you’re Ruby Rose or Blake Belladonna, that likely requires a lot of quick mental calculations. She has a strong, inherent, and deadly understanding of physics that allows her to navigate the battlefield and apply tactical pressure as adeptly as any of her classmates with smaller and more agile weapons.

Originally posted by yangsmash

So I really hate when fanfiction and fanart portrays Nora as exclusively this airheaded comic relief character who’s an adorable badass-but-for-no-reason. Obviously she does have a reason, and though she does often serve as a comic relief character, it’s still in tune with her nature and runs deeper than just a plot device: she doesn’t want her friends to feel down because she’s lived within true sorrow and loneliness, and wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Yes she can be silly and distracted at times, but in no way does it detract from her brilliance. And I especially hate when they portray Nora as ‘Ren’s girl’, and define her entirely through her relationship with him. Of course she has a natural inclination to be with him, but not once is she ever considered lesser to or dependent on Ren. She’s a much rounder character than people allow her to be, and is entirely her own person.

so yeah tldr nora’s fuckin dope come fight me bitch

Infinity - Made in the A.M. series

Originally posted by twofronteeth

Requests: 1. Getting into a fight with h at Anne’s house please. 2. request-going to lunch with h, his family, and your family. (These were two separate requests I just combined them)

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

A/N: I’m starting to work on the requests I’ve been sent, thank you so much to everyone who has been sending them! Feel free to send more 


It had been one of the best days you had had with Harry in a while.

Every day you spent with him seemed to be a great day, but he had been really busy lately so the two of you hadn’t been able to do much. You never blamed him, this was the lifestyle you signed on for after all, but you were still grateful for days like this.

The two of you had started the day with a lazy sleep in. Despite it being the late morning you had remained in bed, shifting from lying in each other’s arms to gentle, loving kisses for hours. The two of you shared some long-awaited downtime together, just drinking each other in.

But when the time on your bedside clock had hit 11 o’clock the two of you had begrudgingly gotten out of bed and started getting ready for the day. Anne had been planning this lunch for weeks and the last thing she would have wanted was for the two of you to be late. You both knew how her mind went to the worst case scenario when anyone was more than three minutes late.

So, punctual as ever, Harry’s car rolled into the driveway of his family home right on 12:30. You had gone to open the door to get out but Harry had grabbed your arm to catch your attention. “Hey,” he spoke softly, “I love you.”

You were sure your smile spread from ear to ear as you returned those three little words. You leaned over to place one last gentle kiss on Harry’s lips before you joined both his and your family for lunch.

When you walked in, both your families were already scattered in small groups throughout the house, each in separate conversations. “Y/N!” Anne exclaimed as she saw you walk through the door. She quickly made her way over to you and wrapped you up in a big hug, squeezing you so tight you could hardly breathe. “Good to see you too, Mum,” Harry joked as he stood to the side.

She gave him a light smack on the arm but pulled him into a hug seconds later. “It’s good to see you,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

The two of you spent the next half hour greeting the rest of the family members who were at the gathering and sipping champagne, up until Anne announced that the food was ready. You both took your seats at the table and seconds later Harry had placed his hand on your thigh, tracing small circles with his thumb.

For a while, everything was complete bliss. Harry was by your side and your family was all around, chatting and eating great food. You had always been very family orientated and times like this were one of the things you loved most in this world.

Everything was going perfectly until your mother brought up your family friend, Isabelle, having a baby last week.

“Hopefully it won’t be long until Harry and Y/N start giving us cute little grandchildren,” Anne said with a grin.

“Well, he better put a ring on it first,” you joked and everyone else laughed along easily.

Everyone, that is, but Harry.

At your words, he hastily removed his hand from your thigh and your laughing was cut short. A few people around the table, as well as yourself, noticed his sour expression, Gemma being one of them. With a quick glance between the two of you, she knew to change the subject.

“I’m thinking of visiting Isabelle and the baby tomorrow if anyone wants to join me,” she broke the silence that had filled the room. By now everyone had noticed that Harry did not appreciate your joke, so everyone was quick to latch onto her subject change.

You, on the other hand, just looked at Harry in confusion. What was his problem? The two of you had been dating for over three years now and had been living together for almost two. Surely marriage is what you were working towards. The two of you had never said it out loud before, but you had thought you had this silent understanding of what you both wanted for the future. But now you were starting to doubt this.

Harry refused to meet your gaze, eyes moving to whoever was speaking at that moment but never engaging in the conversation.

You stared down at your food, no longer feeling at all hungry.

“Excuse me,” you mumbled, standing in your chair abruptly.

“You alright love?” Anne looked at you in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just going to the bathroom sorry,” you smiled at her, but it didn’t meet your eyes.

You quickly exited the dining room, acutely aware of Harry standing in his place and following you out. You walked all the way to the other end of the house before turning to face Harry, you didn’t want your families to hear any of this conversation. You opened your mouth to speak but Harry beat you to it.

“What the hell was that Y/N?” he snapped at you.

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every road leads to an end

this is for everyone in my inbox who asked for a mike coming out story.

***

Mike’s hands are shaking as he reaches for the phone on the corner of his desk - a hand-me-down he’d nabbed from Nancy’s room when she’d packed all of her things and headed off to college two summers ago. He nearly knocks the entire thing to the floor in his haste to grab it.

“Get a grip, Wheeler,” he mumbles out loud to himself, but he can’t quite stop the tremor from coursing through him - it’s the adrenaline, maybe. Probably not fear. Definitely anger.

Mike shakes his head and pulls out a piece of crumpled paper from his desk drawer, taking his time to punch the neatly-written numbers into the keypad on the phone. It rings once, twice, three times.

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Cursed Child AU: insomniac additions.

Another thing (because yes we’re just going to go back to talking about the Cursed Child AU like we never left) that annoyed me about The Cursed Child was how the Adults treated Scorpius Malfoy in the text. 

Like I get it, nobody is perfect and everyone has issues, especially when you take into account the things the original trio endured. But, and this is a large but I cannot lie, I also feel it’s entirely out of character for Harry Potter, the boy who survived twice and lived to become the man who would name his second son after two of his arguably worst abusers* (after Voldie and the Dursleys of course) in recognition of their bravery and…whatever…redemption I guess, to only then turn around to his son, point to another child and say “they come from an evil family, don’t be friends with him”. 

It just…it doesn’t feel right.** 

Just like how Ron pitting his daughter against the Malfoy off-spring doesn’t feel right either. “Here sweetheart, we fought this entire war based on opposing those who thought they were better than others because of how they were born, and we made the world a better, more fair place. Now go kick that other kid’s ass his dad was a dick. Also don’t come home if you get sorted into Slytherin, bye honey loooove yoooou!”

Like….that is just not Ronald Weasley to me. It’s maybe Ron at the start of the series when we see him coming from a place of…not monetary privileged to be sure, but definitely perhaps cultural in terms of his bloodline? Like they might be dirt poor but the Weasley’s are a pure-blood family and that matters in this world. 

But it’s not who Ron is at the end of the series. 

It’s not who any of them are at the end of the series. Yet somehow we just see the continuation of “all adults are awful, yes even the good ones” and it just…it’s mediocre writing for one thing, but it’s also a continuation of validating shitty adult human behavior for Reasons, which Rowling is infamous for, and maybe it’s just me. But I’m tired of that shit.

I’m so, gods damned tired. Both as a reader, an editor and a writer.

Which is why I’d like you to consider: Cursed Child AU Molly Weasley meeting Scorpius Malfoy for the first time. 

In my head, for whatever reason, the new trio are soaked, just, drenched to the bone and guilty as hell, and Rose isn’t too worried by her grandmother’s stern look, she knows the shouting and the hand waving is from concern and not a threat. And Albus too, who has gotten into his own fair share of trouble with his brother and cousins and been on the receiving end of his Grandma’s tongue lashing more than once has just sort of, switched off, eyes glazed over as he takes the reprimand as he takes all others.

But Scorpius has no reference for this. His own mother and father have never disciplined him, not really, they’ve never had cause to. But he’s seen the fights between his father and grandfather, and people have walked away from those burned. He’s felt this anger before, this shrill frustration, but it’s never been directed at him before and honestly he’s not sure if he’s about to vomit or cry—until suddenly it stops. And when he looks up, Mrs. Weasley is looking at him, just for a second she’s looking just at him. And then she sighs, wiping a weary hand over her face as she waves them towards the stairs. 

“Go to bed, all of you. Albus, show your friend where everything is. We’ll deal with this in the morning.”

So they climb the stairs and say good night, and Albus lets Scorpius borrow some old but clean clothes from a chest at the end of a bed that looks like it hasn’t been slept in for years but is still kept pristine. And he feels like an intruder in this cramped wonderful space that feels lived in and loved from the ceiling to the floor. But Albus is already falling asleep face down on the other bed so he can’t ask if this is okay and instead just peels back the covers and falls asleep thinking if a house could feel like a hot cup of tea on a rainy Autumn day then the Burrow would be mid-October with two sugars and a ginger snap on the side.

The next morning he awakens to find his own clothes not just dried but cleaned and mended, folded at the end of the bed. Not wanting to wake Albus (snoring gently on his back, dark hair sticking out at all ends in a nice way that makes Scorpius’ stomach do a funny swooping thing he’s not ready to think about just yet) Scorpius creeps out of bed in search of the privy, somehow managing to get turned around in this tiny house that’s smaller than his grandfather’s study and finds himself on the threshold of the kitchen again, where a fire is already lit and something bubbles gently on the stove. He doesn’t mean to stare, but there’s just so much stuff, brick-a-brack and clutter his mother would never allow, mementos, moving pictures on every wall, the clock gently ticking on the wall…

“Cup of tea, dear?”

He jumps, feeling like he’s been caught somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“Come along dear, sit down,” Mrs Weasley continues, placing gentle hands on his shoulders and guiding him towards the kitchen table where the table is already set. “One lump or two?”

“I…” Scorpius stutters, looking around, desperately hoping for one of the other two to appear, even Rose who he knows only tolerates him because of Albus. “Two?” he asks. “Please?”

“There you are dear, help yourself to milk. Sleep all right?”

“I…uh, yes, thank you?”

“Good, good. Toast?”

“Uh…”

“There you go. Help yourself to butter and jam.”

He’s halfway through a second slice when Albus appears in the doorway, still in the rumpled clothes he’d slept in and yawning loudly until Rose pushes him out of the way and sits down heavily in the empty chair next to Scorpius, glaring, as though daring him to say something about her frazzled hair and the pillow markings on her sleep-pinked face. Scorpius wisely takes another bite of toast and pushes the teapot towards her. Albus stumbles over next, still so half asleep her nearly face plants into the jam the moment he’s sitting. It’s only the joint efforts of Rosie and Scorpius that keeps it from happening.

“What time is it?” he asks, rubbing blearily at his eyes. 

Scorpius glances to the clock—not the family one of course, though he can’t help but feel a little envious at just how many spoons it has. His parents have one, but it only has three hands.

“Time you were up and about,” Mrs Weasley comments before Scorpius can answer, swooping in over the table with a platter laden with breakfast food and dishing it out in heaps like she’s used to feeding an army. Glancing again at the family clock, Scorpius can see why. “And time to tell me what in Merlin’s Beard is going on.”

The trio glance between themselves, suddenly far more awake than they were mere moments before. With a mouthful of tea, Scorpius makes a hard swallow and braces himself.

“I’m really sorry, but this is entirely all my fault.” He starts when Mrs Weasley laughs, eyeing her two grandchildren with a knowing look.

“Somehow I find that hard to believe, dearie. Here have some more bacon.”

Somewhere between second, third and quite very nearly fourth helpings (Scorpius has never eaten so much in his life, not even at the Hogwarts feasts) they tell the truth. Or rather, they omit certain details and confess they found the car in the woods while having detention and wanted to see if it would work. How were they to know the doors would slam shut and the car would take them home. Molly Weasley listens quietly, with none of the previous shouting of yesterday, even when they recount the part about the doors falling off. Scorpius is relieved. He doesn’t think he could handle it, and he has no desire to see all that good food come up in reverse. 

“Well, I can’t say I’m pleased.” she says when they’re done, fixing them all with a pointed look. “But I am glad you are safe. Now, why don’t you go get ready and head on outside. The gnomes are in the herb patch again, and I need to contact the school and let them know you’re safe.“

The other two groan and slide out of their chairs to stomp up the stairs. Scorpius also stands and thinks about following them, but he’s already dressed so doesn’t see the point, he’ll just wait here by the door and go outside when they’re ready…he’s oddly excited by the prospect of de-gnoming the garden. He’s never done anything like it before…

“Everything all right, dear?” Mrs Weasley asks him, voice light as she clears away the breakfast table with a flick of her hand. “With school?”

He’s puzzled by the question, but he nods. “Yes, thank you Mrs Weasley.”

She hums politely, drawing her wand again and pulling over a scroll of parchment and a quill from a nearby table. “And what about home, everything all right there?”

The nausea is instant and for one horrible moment he thinks he might actually be sick. His mouth is watering, his head feels hot, his hands are cold and his eyes are blurring as he tries to quell the terror such a question brings because how, how can he answer a question like that while knowing the truth of what is yet to come...

He doesn’t even realize he’s sobbing until warm arms surround him. He’s been hugged before, but never like this. Everyone in his family is rail-thin and formally stiff. Physical affection often feels like an obligation to be endured, not warm and enveloping like sunlight through a glass pane on a cold winter morning. 

“There now dear,” she soothes, patting his back and holding him close like one of her own—a Potter or a Weasley, not a Malfoy. He doubts a Malfoy has ever been held this way. “I’m so sorry Scorpius. It’s not easy grieving…but you’ll be all right…it’ll be all right…shhh”

Later in the garden no one says anything. He knows they know, he can still feel the evidence of it streaked down his face, sniffling loudly in a way that has nothing to do with the chill Autumn air as they run after the scurrying gnomes. Instead they are stoically silent. But it’s a united sort of silence. Even Rosie looks grimly determined as she nods to him, just once, an unspoken version of the promise Albus had uttered in the small hours of the Slytherin Dungeon.

They have a curse to break. And it’s bloody well going to get broken.


(cut for foot notes)

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“He’s everything- my everything, my only, my all.”

Requested by many people (phrase no. 8 from my prompt list)


Draco realized he was in love with Harry Potter when he was seventeen. On that day, in that exact moment, Draco was supposed to hate Harry Potter with more hate than he had ever felt for anything in whole life. He was supposed to sentence Potter to death. But when Draco stood there staring into Potter’s ever so green eyes, his face mere centimeters away from Potter’s - close enough to kiss, all Draco could feel was love. Draco felt sick to his stomach when he realized this, but he shoved all his emotions into the deepest, darkest part of his heart so he could deal with them later, just like he always did.

“I don’t know,” Draco said, and by doing so disappointing his family and betraying everything that he was supposed to care about.

But somehow Draco didn’t give a damn about these consequences. Potter was his everything now.


Draco did not let his love for Harry Potter resurface for five years. Even after Potter’s testimony at Draco’s trial, and Draco becoming friends with Granger in their Eighth Year at Hogwarts, and Draco running into Potter because of Teddy-related activities, Draco’s feelings remained suppressed. And that was okay, because Draco was perfectly fine ignoring these feelings, and he planned on going on ignoring them for the rest of his life, but then Potter had to fuck everything up by being an Auror and nearly dying on the same night that Draco was working in the Severe Spells and Trauma Unit of St. Mungo’s.

“What have we got?” Draco asked the mediwitch on duty as he slipped on a pair of Healing gloves, magically programmed to be impenetrable against germs.

The mediwitch forced her gaze away from the patients being carted into the Trauma center on flying gurneys and looked at the medical chart that an EMW (Emergency Medi-Wizard) had handed her. “Twenty two year old male, took a Spasmos to the chest and was Crucio’d for approximately thirty seven seconds. He’s been having seizures every seventy four seconds. He and his partner were on an Auror mission.”

Draco nodded in understanding. “Who’s got his partner?”

“That’s me.” called Healer Owens. Owens, known to Draco as Jasper, winked at Draco as he slid on his gloves and listened to his own mediwitch recite the medical information on Draco’s patient’s partner.

“Thirty year old female, hit with Petrificus Totalus and thrown against the wall when one of the criminals cast an Expulso. Possible paralyzation and many broken bones,” Jasper’s mediwitch reported.

Jasper grimaced. “We’ll see what we can do about that.”

Jasper and Draco both headed in opposite directions to treat their patients.

The EMWs had just transferred Draco’s patient from the gurney to a bed when Draco reached him. The man’s tanned chest was bare and he was wearing only his trousers; the EMWs must have removed his robes when they realized his chest had been hit. Draco barely got to look at his patient before his mediwitch handed him the specially-modified Healer’s wand  and had to set to work, but one glance was all it took for Draco to recognize the man on the bed: it was Harry Potter.

Draco pushed his thoughts on Harry Potter to the back of his mind (he was quite good at it after five years of practice) and centered all of his attention on the injuries in front of him.

“His seizures are occurring more frequently now, only about sixty two seconds apart now,” his mediwitch chirped. “Forty three seconds until the next one.”

Draco nodded and waved his Healer’s wand over Potter’s - no, the patient’s - chest, and cast a spell to make the area affected by Spasmos glow. A small circle on the left half of the patient’s chest lit up in an electric blue color, and the color had spread across the rest of his chest in thin lines, like branches of a tree.

“Shit,” Draco muttered. One of the branches of light was dangerously close to the patient’s heart. Potter’s heart.

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Everything

Summary: AU. Reader rushes to her ex-boyfriend’s side when he’s in an accident.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 4,733

Warnings: language, angst, referenced car accident/motorcycle accident, hospital, doctors, injury, fluff, more angst, more fluff, drunk driving mention, nothing gory, I’m not a damn doctor okay? Shonda Rhimes taught me this shit.

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sweet summer love

Summary: Summer love is the best kind of love, and Steve doesn’t know where he’d be without it - or you.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: y’all, Steve has got my ass whipped. enjoy another fic of my favorite boy, and let me know what you think! | masterlist

Originally posted by kings-of-my-heart

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Glasses — Part One

Title: Glasses [1/3]

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Type: Platonic | Romantic | Familial | Other

Summary: Richie sees you, a fresh face in Derry, and thinks maybe you’re cute. He talks to you, and thinks maybe you’re cool too. He sees you put on your huge, dorky glasses, and thinks maybe he’s a little in love.

New school, new life. That was the deal.

One you hadn’t been too happy to accept initially. You’d had a perfectly good life back home, with friends and grades and, you know, a social life. And it probably would have panned out into a slightly-boring but happy lifetime if your parents didn’t decide to up and haul ass to this dust-speck of a town in the good old US of A, but they did and here you are.

Friendless, sullen and vaguely intimidated as you stand on the outskirts of the grounds of your new middle school in Derry.

Admittedly, the town wasn’t too bad. It yielded loads of forests and even a quarry which you were eager to explore. A downside was the open plan of sewers, and openings cropped up everywhere - in sidestreets, beside lakes, in the middle of the road. The middle school you were standing outside now was rustic-looking, a little bit of an eyesore, somehow grand and shabby at the same time, and crawling with people.

You shouldered your bag and went ahead through the doors.

Inside was a slightly less-busy hallway. Your schedule was in your palm, folded eight times over in a mini nervous breakdown over cereal that morning. You’d only moved schools once, and you’d been too young to remember it, so being the new girl was an entirely new experience for you. A gradually-rising sense of diluted dread began to rise slowly inside you as you unfolded your schedule, checking out your first lesson.

Design Tech. Of course.

Now you swallowed, panic setting in. The hallway was growing swollen with passing students with only ten minutes until first bell, none of whom gave you a second glance after the first curious one. You could spot no teachers you could ask about the location of the DT classroom. The school was large, and you saw at least three separate blocks from the courtyard. Anyone of them could hold your class. You swallowed, nervously toying with the hem of your sleeves, entirely unbeknownst to the several pairs of curious eyes fixated on you from across the hallway.

The Losers Club looked on, each taking in your expression, a pitying hybrid of bemusement and panic as you dithered on the spot, turning one way and turning the next, looking for a class that wasn’t there.

“She looks lost,” was what Stan chose to break the silence with, startling his friends from their reverie. He glanced at the three of them. “Should we…?”

Eddie shrugged, dropping his gaze. Bill made to go forward but was stopped in his tracks by a hand flying to meet his chest. He looked in surprise to where Richie had halted him, as the skinny boy squared his shoulders in a mockery of slick confidence.

“I got this one boys,” he said, before readjusting his glasses and sauntering off. The illusion of confidence was slightly shattered by him stumbling over a sticking-out foot on his way over, and Stan groaned, turning around to lean his face against a locker.

“I can’t even look,” he said in a muffled voice, but Bill and Eddie certainly could.

Meanwhile, you were panicking so much you figured you were on the edge of an anxiety attack, and the tentative touch of a hand on your arm made you jump so violently your schedule slipped from your grasp, floating down to graze the floor.

“Shit!”

You watched, startled, as a boy around your age with a head of curly, dark hair, a Hawaiian-style flannel, bright eyes and huge, red glasses too big for his snubbed nose ducked swiftly to retrieve your schedule.

“Um - sorry about that. Didn’t mean to like, scare you.”

“No!” You took the schedule from his proffering grasp, so swiftly you almost gave him a paper cut. “No, no no no, that’s okay. I just…” you trailed off awkwardly, absently folding the paper again. “First day, y’know.”

“Right,” he laughed it off nervously. “It’s just, uh… my friends and me, we saw you looked kind of…”

“Like I wanted to be literally anywhere else but here?” you supplied. “Huh. I thought I’d hidden that pretty well.”

His chuckle came more naturally this time. “I could help you find your class, if you-” he broke off quite suddenly, shifting his feet. “Y’know. If you want. Or I could just tell you where to find it.”

“Actually, I’d love it if you would show me.” You smiled gratefully, unfolding your paper, and squinting at the small print. “I have Design Tech first with… Ms Greene?”

He frowned. “Which classroom?”

You squinted again. You could only make out two blobs of black ink, fuzzy to the eye. And as the seconds ticked on with you trying to decipher the two dark digits, and the silence stretched on, growing more awkward by the second, you reluctantly caved.

He has them too, you told yourself as you fished into your right pocket. It’s not like he can judge.

Reluctantly, you drew out your glasses - thickly-framed and slightly too large for your head - and slid them on. The blobs took sharp form immediately. DT5.

You looked up. The boy was watching you with a slightly open-mouthed expression, eyes glazed in an almost comical way. You fidgeted, cleared your throat, and he jumped out of the daze. A tide of red flooded his pale cheeks.

“It’s uh, DT5,” you supplied gently, and he smiled in relief from the awkward moment.

“Cool,” he said faintly. “That’s upstairs. I’ll take you, if you still want me to.”

“Please,” you answered, tucking the timetable away. You began to walk, and you glanced at him. You still didn’t know his name. “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

“Richie Tozier,” he replied in a surer voice. “But you can call me your future husband.”

You scoffed, reaching up to remove your glasses as you walk, but your hand stayed when Richie blurted out, “I think they look great.”

Too startled to even move your hand, all you could muster up was, “Huh?”

The blush returned. It was painfully dark, from the tips of his ears to the contours of his thin face. “The glasses. You shouldn’t be ashamed of them. They’re kinda hot,” he added almost as an afterthought, and though you burst out laughing, you felt your hand drop back to your side, your glasses still firmly on your face as you resumed the trail to DT5.

Eventually you found it, and as you reached the door, you turned to Richie. “Thanks, Richie.” And not just for helping me find a classroom, either. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“You could have lunch with us!” he offered slightly too eagerly. “Me and my friends, we always eat on the wall outside the Art block. You can meet us there, if you want.”

You considered briefly, then smiled. “Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Cool.” He kicked the tiled floor semi-awkwardly. “See you around then.”

“Yeah.” You grinned, turned and walked into your first class, confidence raging like a fire in your gut. You didn’t see Richie hover outside the door just to watch you for the next three minutes. You didn’t see how he was late to his first lesson, or the looks of open-mouthed shock his friends gave him as he sauntered in with a smirk on his face and a blush on his cheeks.

You didn’t see the doodles of a pair of large, thickly-framed glass dotted all over his exercise books that draw, carved in ink covering a whole page with the memory of you burned bright into his brain.

Memories Pennywise x Reader

Requester: Anonymous

Prompt: A Pennywise imagine where he saves you from Henry Bowers and after he does you think he’s going to eat you but he tells you he won’t because he’s been protecting you ever since you were little. Basically he explains it to her like a story and at the end the reader trusts him and he tells her that he will always have her back and protect her. Please just make it fluffy and cute thank you!

Warning: Bullying, death, and Henry Bower’s potty mouth

Note: Got nothing. Enjoy! XD!

Originally posted by thelongforgottenglamorousdays

Originally posted by janellalove

Originally posted by jonroru

You were once again running for you life as Bower’s and his gang chased after you. They constantly did this at a daily basis, chasing you like predator to prey.

“Run little bunny! Run!” Henry chanted.

They called you a bunny or a rabbit because you were just as fast as one and just as vulnerable as one. You were gasping for breath as you ran cursing high school for making you have to carry around so many binders and textbooks.

You eventually stepped wrong and cried out in pain feeling something snap inside your ankle as you tumbled. You whimpered from both fear and pain in the dirt as they surrounded you like a pack of hungry wolves.

“Get up little bunny.” Henry said nudging you roughly with his foot.

They laughed and chuckled as you didn’t move and only made weak noises.

“Get up little bunny. We ain’t done with you yet.” The main bully spat.

When you made no attempt to move Patrick grabbed you by your backpack and yanked you up. You had to lean on your other leg since your right ankle was a bruised color.

Henry grabbed your chin squeezing your cheeks together as he seemed to examine you like a farmer to livestock. He moved his hand to your mouth and you bit down as hard as you could on the webbing between his thumb and pointer finger.

As a result, Henry cried out in pain and had to land three blows to your head before you finally let go. He cursed nursing his hand for a few seconds before turning back towards you and punching you right in the face.

You fell to the ground and they all laughed at you.

“Stop laughing at me!” You finally spoke, able to push yourself up but you had to lean on your arm.

“Oh so the bunny speaks after all. What was that you said lil’ bunny?” Henry asked getting in your face.

“I said go fuck yourself you mullet headed fucktard.”

He growled and pushed you onto the ground squeezing your throat tightly. You choked and grabbed onto his muscular arms digging your nails into them which only resulted in him squeezing tighter.

“Henry don’t kill her!” Belch warned.

“Shut up!” Henry shouted before turning back toward you.

“You listen to me now punk. If you even think of calling me that nickname again I swear to god-”

“Uh…Henry…” Victor said.

The boy looked up and saw a clown was heading their way with a bunch of red balloons in his hand. Henry got off of you just as you were turning blue and you coughed and gasped for air desperately as he stood up.

“What do you want clown?” Henry spat.

“Care for a balloon?” The clown asked gesturing towards his handful of red balloons.

“Go fuck yourself creep.”

The clowns smile turned into a frown and you watched petrified as his eyes turned gold and he started laughing hysterically. Henry took a couple steps back as the clown continued to laugh until his eyes fell out and he seemed to be morphing into something.

A wolfs muzzle grew out of his mouth as his clothes and skin ripped apart till all there was left was a giant wolf. You wanted to scream but your throat was closed too tightly and your lung lacked the oxygen needed.

You were instead hyperventilating heavily unable to move. When he barked at them Bower’s and his gang scrambled away screaming like girls and tripping on the ground. The werewolf growled and you shuddered, tears of absolute fear prickling at your wide eyes.

The once-clown stepped towards you and you scrambled to get up desperate to run. You only got so far before a hand—surprisingly not furry, grabbed your wrist. You turned around to see it was the clown again but his eyes were a soft blue.

Still you were terrified from his earlier show of transforming into a werewolf and screamed and fought punching, yanking, scratching, pulling on his hand, but that clown was inhumanly strong.

“Help me!” You cried out, “Someone help me please!”

Eventually he pulled you so your back was to his chest with his elongated arms around your waist. You shrieked at the top of your lungs and continuously struggled in vain which only made you out of breath.

You shuddered as he pulled his head down to your neck to nuzzle and sniff the jugular vein there. You sobbed knowing this was probably the end of the line for you; you were going to end up as one of those kids on missing posters.

He was going to kill you and then eat you like the rest of the kids he has kidnapped.
You could imagine your grave right now.

(Name)

(Last Name)

Born: 1942

Died: 1958

Due to unknown circumstances

You could hear him heavily sniff your neck like he was smelling the fear radiating off your body as a putrid odor.

“Why so scared kiddo?” He asked.

You shuddered at his squeaky voice, goosebumps rising across your skin from just his voice alone.

“Don’t be scared kiddo, I’m not gonna eat you.” The clown promised.

“I already know your promises are empty. You are going to eat me like the rest of the kids.” You sobbed.

“If I was going to eat you I would’ve done it a long time ago.” He snickered.

“That because you just caught me now.”

“No. Believe it or not kiddo I actually have been watching you well you were still developing in your mother’s body…. Actually, I’ve been watching your entire family’s generation since the 1800’s.”

“Huh?”

Pennywise grinned as he began to explain, “I had fallen in love with a human mortal, your very great grandmother. I loved her until the very last day of her existence. That day though, I made a promise to her.”

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people have been talking about lup and barry having a kid in the 2 years they spent on faerun before lup disappeared, and i suddenly had the urge to rewrite the entire story with taako raising this pair of half elf twins that he thinks are his cause they look like him, but he has no idea who the other parent is.

like, it’s a work in progress because i cannot imagine barry would have had taako kill him when he started forgetting lup if he had two lil babies waiting for him, but just hear me out.

imagine sizzle it up with taako & family, with these two little kids hamming it up as much as taako does.  imagine one of them almost eating the poisoned chicken, and taako manages to stop them at the last second, vowing right then and there that he will never, ever feed these kids his cooking again.  taako still never settles down in an actual house, so he ends up with a pair of street savvy caravan kids good at making themselves useful and better at picking pockets.

taako is extremely protective of these kids, trying very hard to always be there if something happens, but also teaching them how to look out for themselves.  he teaches them to rely on each other, because he knows how terrible it is to grow up all alone.  he teaches them to protect themselves and each other first, to not be ashamed to run away from danger, even if others (him) need help.  he teaches them survival.

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HOW SKAM’S ISAK AND EVEN REVOLUTIONIZED TEEN TV

The third season of Norwegian teen series Skam dismantled stereotypes, coerced schoolkids into skiving off classes and turned homophobes into rainbow flag-waving defenders—and it first began airing one year ago today. It was the “gay” season, charting the blossoming relationship of Isak Valtersen and Even Bech Næsheim, both coming to terms with their sexuality amidst a cutting background of teenage angst. Taking every fan poll I’ve ever come across into account, season three was by far Skam’s most popular. It broke streaming records in Norway, and television viewership records in neighboring Denmark and Sweden. Throughout its 10-episode run, it hardly left the list of worldwide trending topics on any given social platform.

With a short promo clip that could have been a stand in for a gay snuff film—jockish throbs in a locker room being showered with milk in slow motion—the series wasn’t afraid to shy away from explicitly homosexual subject matter. Or any hot button subject. Homophobia, bullying, mental health—nothing was off the cards for series creator Julie Andem.

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Me & Cinderella

Originally posted by heart-attackles

Summary: The reader always knew Dean Winchester was the one. But when her college quarterback boyfriend gets considered for the pros, they let each other drift apart so he could go after his dream. Seven years later, Dean realizes just what happened all those years ago…

Pairing: Football Player!Dean x reader

Word Count: 8,500ish

Warnings: language, angst, self-depreciation

A/N: Thank you to @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday for giving me the inspiration for this story! Written in split POV between Dean and the reader…


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Stuff from the Falsettos: In Conversation event!

William Finn, James Lapine, and Stephanie J. Block blew my mind several times yesterday and I wanted to share some cool things I learned about the show!

tl;dr: Falsettos beat Spiderman, Bill Finn and James Lapine should have their own sitcom, aND THE BANANA BELTING MOMENT WAS INITIALLY AN ACCIDENT

  • Packed house in Westport Country Playhouse. It was quite ironic because the event was free, but everyone there was hella rich. Hella. I know this because they started thanking donors at the beginning and there was one family there who had just donated a million. And literally not a single person was a POC. My middle-class Asian ass felt awkward.
  • It was Bill Finn, James Lapine, and Stephanie J. Block, moderated by Andrew C. Wilk (to whom we all owe our lives because he’s the executive producer of Live From Lincoln Center)
  • He told us cool stuff about filming Falsettos. There were ten cameras. He said that bringing all these huge cameras in was like your drunk uncle coming to a party
  • According to Andrew, when it first opened in cinemas, apparently in some markets FALSETTOS BEAT SPIDERMAN?????
  • YESSSSS FALSETTOS THAT’S MY FANDOM
  • Even Andrew couldn’t believe it
  • He was like it doesn’t sound true but I’m going to say it because it feels good to say it
  • And, as I mentioned in a previous post, he confirmed the PBS airdate as October 27 and he said that Falsettos might even have a second run in cinemas.
  • Andrew brought the three in. Audience went wild.
  • He asked them what the main theme of Falsettos is. Bill Finn says that it’s about what it means to be a man (which it seems that the Tumblr fandom has really hit upon in all the analyses, so good job Tumblr!!!)
  • And they talked about casting Stephanie J. Block. Bill said that she came in and auditioned with Holding to the Ground (“which isn’t a very good song,” says Bill) and he had never heard it sound that good
  • Stephanie has a very subtly poetic way of talking about things and it’s really moving?? She described Trina as a woman who constantly has “a well of tears” (she gestures at her throat) right here.
  • I’ve been there.
  • Andrew mentioned how her life is very different than Trina’s–she’s happily married with a beautiful daughter–and he asked her how she accessed Trina’s character
  • She talked about how she had taken a few years away from theater since her daughter was born. When Finn and Lapine called her about Trina to see if it’d be right for them and for her, she felt very insecure and scared going back to performing. The way she put it, in her state at the time, every emotion was at her fingertips. But she drew on this insecurity to play Trina. She said she listened to Falsettos and felt that she knew Trina.

Originally posted by trinaweisenbachfeld

  • Bill Finn is a CHARACTER. Cracked the entire audience up. He communicated almost exclusively in mumbled one-liners
  • When James Lapine was explaining the whole March of the Falsettos and Falsettoland Act I-Act II thing, Bill Finn was like, the first act’s not as good as the second act
  • Excuse me, Bill, both acts are masterpieces
  • So the format of the evening was that they would show a clip from the film and then talk about it, which was so cool. Watching the three of them watching the film was surreal, but one part was even more surreal
  • I’ve never seen that many elderly people in a room laughing hysterically over dick jokes
  • Partway through the event, Bill Finn started complaining about the fact that there were so many Act I clips, and Lapine was reassuring him that the first act was still good
  • I’m like HELL YEAH IT IS
  • He and James were hilarious together; they just bounced off each other and said such complimentary things about each other’s work and they would have full conversations with just their eyes
  • Okay, so we watched I’m Breaking Down, of course. Then Stephanie and James Lapine talked about the process of staging that scene. That was a gold mine.

Originally posted by trinaweisenbachfeld

  • According to James Lapine, the boobs were all Stephanie’s idea
  • James Lapine REALLY wanted to have a dummy bloody finger. He wanted to have Trina chop off a piece of her finger and there would be blood spurting and the audience would be freaking out over whether the actor actually was injured. He was very attached this idea and stuck to it until the very end. Everyone else was like James pls no. Eventually, it had to go because of the possibility of fake blood staining the costumes or set pieces
  • Stephanie warned us that she was about to make a pun but that she had to because it was so good, and then she said “the finger was cut”
  • And she was super proud of herself and grinning at the audience
  • James Lapine tried to high-five her, but she was too happy to see
  • (She finally noticed and high-fived him back)
  • The iconic banana belting moment was an accident????
  • Okay okay so this is a GREAT STORY
  • So y’all already know all about how it’s the actors themselves moving all the set pieces throughout the show. Stephanie says that it was Anthony Rosenthal who had to do most of the moving
  • So if any of the banana pieces fell, it was “poor Anthony” who had to clean them up
  • One day in rehearsal, sure enough, some banana pieces fell
  • Stephanie felt bad and didn’t want to make Anthony clean it up, so she picked them up and freaking SHOVED THEM INTO HER MOUTH
  • BUT SHE FORGOT THAT SHE STILL HAD TWELVE BARS OF THE SONG LEFT
  • When she finished, James Lapine was like O.O do you think you could do that often
  • The rest is history 

Originally posted by upsettoland

  • I have so many Bill Finn anecdotes that I don’t know which to share
  • Like I said, Bill would mostly communicate in mumbly one-liners
  • Example: we were about to watch This Had Better Come to a Stop, and Andrew asked Bill to set up the scene for the audience (they explained all of the context for everything in case some audience members hadn’t seen Falsettos)
  • Bill: Whizzer is misbehaving and Marvin gets mad.
  • Andrew (laughing): Is that it?!
  • Bill: Yes.
  • (Lapine swooped in to give a more in-depth explanation)
  • But!! Bill would sometimes suddenly speak up and say something so incredibly thought-provoking 
  • They were talking about the unlikability of Marvin, and Bill talked about how a professor he had at Williams said that Jane Austen made Emma so unlikeable so that we could learn to like her
  • And Bill said that he listened
  • We finally got to Act II (Bill was very happy about this) and we watched the baseball scene. 
  • Apparently, James had said to Bill that they needed a group number with everyone in it. At that point, Bill had already written the entire baseball scene in his notebook except for a few final chords, and he was like oh here you go I already wrote one.
  • James: When were you going to give me this?!
  • Bill: When you needed it?
  • And Bill talked about what he referred to as the “handball scene.” James apparently staged the thing before Bill even wrote it.
  • James: Bill, that was racquetball.
  • Bill: Oh, I thought it was squash.

Originally posted by htmlarry

  • BILL GOT JAMES LAPINE SO CONFUSED ABOUT THE LESBIANS FROM NEXT DOOR
  • Andrew was asking about the Lesbians from Next Door and Bill was like, the lesbians are actually from In Trousers
  • And James had this wait hold up facial expression and he said, I didn’t even know this. Who were the lesbians???
  • And Bill was saying Ms. Goldberg and the high school sweetheart and by then, James Lapine looked like the galaxy brain meme
  • James was like, but that’s just the actors, not the same characters, right?!
  • Bill said yeah they’re completely different characters and James looked very relieved
  • James: We’re great together. On our own, we’re a disaster.
  • Stephanie was talking about how she feels like as a young woman, she didn’t have the life experience to appreciate the complexity of Bill Finn’s story and lyrics:
  • Stephanie: “I liked to tap dance and put on red lipstick and make people happy with musical theater.”
  • And suddenly Bill Finn yells, “ME TOO!!!!!!!!!!”
  • Imagine the kind of person who could write both “BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCH FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY” and “this here is love when we’re talking face-to-face,” and you’ve got a pretty solid idea of Bill Finn
  • I know I haven’t talked about Andrew Wilk enough, so I’m going to reiterate here that we all owe our lives to this man. And he was so sweet and charismatic. I love this man. 
  • Near the end, they talked about us!!! The Falsettos fandom! Stephanie said she wants to call us kids, but she knows we’re teenagers and people in our twenties. She lovingly called us a cult and talked about all the banana memorabilia she has received and talked about how the cast sees pictures of us going to the cinemas in 80′s clothes/dressed as the characters. Stephanie thinks it’s so great <3 
  • Stephanie says that she’s not sure she’ll ever do a show as important as Falsettos again. She says there are so many wonderful shows, but in terms of “important”? It’s hard to find.

Originally posted by musicalsaregreat

  • The final scene they showed was Jason’s Bar Mitzvah and What Would I Do? and it was too much. You could hear people crying softly.
  • The last half hour was Stephanie doing a mini-concert (accompanied by the Falsettos conductor/pianist Vadim Feichtner!) and when she belted, I thought the back wall was going to blow off
  • She sang a bunch of gorgeous songs, interspersed with her talking about what these songs mean to her, but among them were “Don’t Rain on My Parade” and Holding to the Ground” (FIGHT ME BILL IT’S ONE OF MY FAVORITE SONGS EVER) and “Defying Gravity” (Wicked is the show that got me into musical theater, so this was really special to me) and I cried
  • An absolutely beautiful evening.

Originally posted by nikolaevna-romanova

  • Post-script: without announcing it or anything, they very quietly set up a signing with Stephanie in one corner. I spotted the table coming in, so I went to check it out afterwards, and SURE ENOUGH THERE SHE WAS. 
  • I was literally the second person to get there and there was no line behind me because people hadn’t realized yet. She signed the hand-out I got at the cinema (asking me who she should make it out to and addressing it to me in her beautiful swoopy handwriting!) and I told her I went to see Falsettos six times and she said, “I miss it every day, (my name). Every day.” And I asked her very hesitantly whether it’d be okay to get a picture with her, and she instantly said, “You ready?” Hence the selfie I posted last night. I CAN’T BELIEVE IT.

That was my day in Falsettoland!! I hope this stuff was interesting :) I love this show so much and I just wanted to share the cool stuff I learned!