this was screaming at me to be drawn so i did it

Be my Queen- Part Three

Summary- You and Loki have been friends since childhood. While your older sister Sif trained to fight with Thor, you were learning magic from Frigga alongside Loki. As you grow older both you and Loki believe the love you hold for one another is unrequited. Will this change when Thor is banished and Loki needs a queen to rule at his side while Odin sleeps? What will happen when you uncover a plot that will get Loki banished just like Thor?

Message- This goes through to the end of the Thor movie. Sorry if it sucks!

Warning- there is a sort of spoiler for Thor: Ragnarok in this. Parents are arrested and reader is left abandoned.

Background  Part One  Part Two

Word Count- 1515

“The marriage will have to wait.” Frigga murmurs.

“But-.” Loki starts.

“Just until things settle.” Frigga says.

“Very well. We will wait.” You say.

“But not long.” Loki adds and Frigga smiles a bit.

“I need to be with your father. You must take the throne.” Frigga whispers.

“Of course, Mother.” Loki says. Then he takes your hand and leads you to the throne room. He takes the seat on the throne and you move to stand beside him as he takes hold of the staph. “You could sit.”

“I am not queen yet. It would not be appropriate.” You murmur. Before Loki can respond Sif and the warriors 3 storm in.

“All father we must speak with you urgently.” Sif says.

“My friends.” Loki murmurs. 

“Where’s Odin?” Sif asks. 

“Odin has fallen into Odinsleep. Mother fears he will never awaken.” Loki says and you squeeze his hand.

“We would speak with her.” Sif demands. 

“She has refused to leave my father’s bedside. You can bring your urgent matter to me, to us.” Loki says as he smiles at you. “Your King, and future Queen.”

“My King, we would ask that you end Thor’s banishment.” Sif says as her and the warrior 3 kneel.

“My first command cannot be to undo the all fathers last. We are on the brink of war with Jotunheim. Our people need a sense of continuity, in order to feel safe in these difficult times. All of us must stand together for the good of Asgard.” Loki says sadly, Sif lunges towards him Loki but two of the warriors hold her back.

“Yes of course.” Fandral murmurs.

“Good then you will wait for my word.” Loki says.

“If I may, I beg the indulgence of your majesty, to perhaps reconsider.” Volstagg says.

“We’re done.” You demand, knowing the toll this was taking on Loki. He squeezed your hand again and you gave him a half smile. After they storm out Loki sighs.

“Let us go check on your mother and father.” You say as you support Loki’s weight.

“Yes, lets.” Loki whispers. Then the two of you go to leave the throne room. But Hela walks in before you can.

“Congratulations, little brother. On your ascension to the throne and for your engagement.” Hela sneers.

“He is your King, speak to him with respect.” You demand.

“For now.” Hela sneers.

“Let us pass sister, we need to go see mother.” Loki says.

“Very well.” Hela says as she sizes the two of you up, then she lets the two of you pass. The two of you rush down the hall, hand-in-hand.

“That was concerning.” You murmur once the two of you are out of earshot.

“Laufey mentioned there was a traitor in our midsts. Do you think?” Loki asks.

“Yes, I do.” You murmur. “We must be careful.”

“I agree.” Loki says as the two of you walk into the room that holds Odin and Frigga. “I never get used to seeing him like this.”

“He put it off for so long now. I fear.”

“How long will it last?” You ask.

“I don’t know. It’s so different this time.” Frigga answers. “Dear will you please give us the room? We have things to discuss.”

“Of course.” You say. Loki kisses your cheek and then you leave the room. You wait by the door and eventually Loki leaves the room.

“I need to go close the bifrost, I don’t want anyone traveling through the realms until we know for sure that Hela is the traitor.” Loki whispers.

“Very well, let’s go.” You say.

“No, I need you to stay with my mother.” Loki murmurs.

“Of course.” You murmur. Then Loki starts to walk away, you reach out and tug him into you and pull his face to yours and kiss him. “I love you.” You whispers after the two of you pull away.

“As I love you.” Loki whispers. He kisses your forehead and then he walks off in the direction of the bifrost. You go back into the room and sit across from Frigga.

“So, we have a wedding to plan?” Frigga asks.

“Yes.” You mumble as you blush.

***

A short while later Loki comes bounding into the room.

“We must go. Your sister and the warriors three have gone to earth, I found Heimdall frozen on the bifrost and I Hela is going to kill them all.” Loki says.

“How will we get to Midgard?” You ask.

“There are secret passages, we can use one of those.” Loki says as the two of you run down the hall. Loki stops at an alcove and pulls you through a door you did not know was there. When you get to the other side you are no longer on Asgard.

“This is Midgard?” You ask.

“Yes.” Loki answers. Then he grabs your hand and teleports with you. You end up on the outskirts of a small town.

“Sif!” You call when you see your sisters and the warriors three.

“Sister.” Sif says as she pulls you into a hug. Then she moves so you are behind her. Her weapon pointed at Loki. “Traitor.”

“He is no traitor.” You say. “It is Hela, who has orchestrated all of this.”

“Tis true.” Loki says as he puts his hands up.

“Very well.” Sif says as she lowers her weapon. “Let us find Thor.”

It doesn’t take very long to find him. He is with several mortals.

“Brother, why have you come? Hela said you and mother never wanted to lay eyes on me. Not after father died because of me.” Thor murmurs.

“Odin is not dead Thor. He is just in Odinsleep.” You say as you hug your soon to be brother-in-law.

“Truly?” Thor asks.

“Yes, father still lives.” Loki says as they hug one another.

“So I can return home?” Thor asks.

“One day. Once everything settles and we are not at the brink of war.” Loki promises and Thor nods.

“Yes, I understand.” Thor says. “The destroyer.” He murmurs after the ground shakes.

“We must go, if Hela has control of the Destroyer…”

“Go.” Thor says. Loki grabs your hand and the two of you take off towards the secret passage way. Once you’re on Asgard the two of you make your way to the room that holds Odin. You see Laufey about to kill Odin. Loki uses the Staph to kill him.

“Your death came by the son of Odin.” Loki says as he hugs his mother. “They will pay for this. Come we need to stop the byfrost from destroying Jotunheim.” The two of you run, but before you can get there you are stopped by Hela.

“Go, I will handle her.” You murmur and Loki nods and continues on.

“You know if Odin had just killed you and your family that night everything would have worked flawlessly. But, noo, you just had to see the good in Loki.” Hela sneers.

“He is good.” You say as the two of you fight.

“He is our enemy’s son! But I guess the two of you make sense together. The son of an enemy and the daughter of traitors. Even if they truly weren’t traitors.” Hela screams.

“You set them up!” You cry as the two of you continue to fight.

“I thought that was obvious. You are more powerful than anyone gives you credit for.” Hela sneers. Then you see Sif sneaking behind her, weapon drawn.

“I know.” You say back as you use your magic to skewer Hela on Sif’s weapon. Then the two of you shove her off of the Bifrost.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Sif asks.

“Yes, we must go to Loki.” You murmur. Then the two of you walk until you see Loki sitting on the ground. You see shards of the bifrost missing.

“I-I had to.” Loki murmurs as you pull him to his feet and into a hug.

“I know.” You murmur. “Where is Thor?”

“He stayed behind. A frost giant had gotten to earth after we took care of the Destroyer.” Sif says. “We came back to help with Hela.”

“W-We can go to him, bring him back.” Loki murmurs.

“No, as you said, maybe one day. He looked quite happy in his exile.” You say.

“I-I need to hear it for myself.” Loki says and you nod. So you make your way back to the secret passages.

“Loki!” Thor calls when he sees the two of you.

“Thor!” Loki calls as they hug. “Hela has been defeated! You can come home! “

“I am happy here, brother. Me staying on Midgard for the time being will make peace easier too broker.” Thor says.

“You are sure?” You ask.

“Yes.” Thor says.

“Very well. Goodbye, brother.” Loki says.

“For now.” You add.

“Yes, goodbye for now.” Thor says. Then the three of you embrace and you and Loki make your way back to Asgard.

“So now that we have found the traitor and defeated the frost giants, I believe we have a wedding to plan.” Loki says.

“Yes, our greatest challenge yet.” You say as you both laugh.


lines through the blogs that wouldn’t work…sorry!

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“I Didn’t Think We’d Live This Long.”

Title: “I Didn’t Think We’d Live This Long.”

Pairing: Stanley Uris x Reader

Type: Platonic | Romantic | Familial | Other

Warnings: gore, profanity, violence, pennywise

Prompts: 41: “holy shit, you’re bleeding!” | 46: “What now?” “I don’t know, I didn’t think we’d live this long.” | 82: “Stay close to me.


You did not want to be here.


Staring up at Neibolt House - walls black and cracked and blistering, a roof half-caved in, brittle weeds stretching up languidly to scratch against your thighs and the wooden boards sloppily nailed into the brick to black out the windows, it was easy to imagine being literally anywhere else than here.


For Bill, you reprimanded yourself firmly, glancing at your best friend, Richie, who was bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet, to Stan behind him. Stan was your… well, something. Slightly more than friends but slightly less than lovers, you two had hovered in this warm but uncomfortable limbo for the four years you’d known each other.


“Y-you guys ready?” Bill affirmed quietly from atop the stairs leading to the black front door. Inhaling deeply and reigning in your fear, you nodded, starting up the steps. As you walked, you grabbed Richie’s wrist and pulled him back slightly.


Stay close to me,” you murmured, and the bespectacled kid nodded, sombre for once as you, he, Eddie and Bill headed into the house. You were entirely oblivious to the way Stan’s eyebrows twitched in annoyance and a frown tugged at his mouth as your hand closed over Richie’s arm.


As the four of you disappeared inside the dark mouth of the house, you cast a look back; your gaze snagged on Stan’s briefly, and he shook his head slightly. There wasn’t enough time for you to comprehend what he was trying to communicate with that slight jerk of his head before the door closed tight behind you.


Things began to go wrong very quickly from the second the four of you climbed the stairs to the second floor. Immediately came the smell of rot and decay, like an abandoned fish market, and huge clumps of dust floating like shreds of skin through the damp air. You swallowed back an instinctive gag and carried on.


The first one to realise Eddie was missing was Bill.


You whirled round at the sudden yell of “Eddie!” The hallway you’d come down was thick with shadows, and you couldn’t see a shifting of any sort of form, let alone your friend. You made forward to get a closer look, but then a door slamming made you start violently, and as you whipped round, you realised with a cold sort of horror that Richie was gone. You stared at the closed door previously open, now shut tight, and flung yourself at it, tugging at the handle with all your might.


“Richie? Richie! Open the door, asswipe!” You pummelled on the wood with a mounting terror, but there was no noise from within. In the gap between the door and the floor, the inside looked completely dark.


Despairing, and now with terror clawing at your stomach, you turned round to yell at Bill for help - only to find that door was shut too, and the lights in the room were flickering and burning down to almost darkness.


A pathetic hybrid of a whimper and a scream forced it’s way out your mouth. You hurled yourself against the door until your shoulder was a frenzy of aches and bruises, and then your hands raked furiously through your hair, an outlet for some of the white-hot terror building inside you.


Something in the air shifted, and you started, whirling round in a desperate circle. You felt a cold horror fill your stomach as you realised was so very wrong with your room.


It was getting smaller.


The walls were inching in - fractionally at first, but now they reared as if drawn by magnets, scraping along the floor. You screamed, shoving yourself against four of the walls, but each time you moved, the movement seemed to speed up.


With this realisation, a sob wracked your body. You weren’t ready to die, and yet it seemed that was where you were headed. You forced yourself to stop moving - as well as you could, what with every inch of you trembling like your nerves were on fire. Knees giving way, you allowed yourself to collapse, burying your head in your knees. Your breath hitched and your heart jumped as you felt a wall glide to press against all four of your sides - and then the floor beneath you cracked and splintered and caved, disappearing beneath you.


Your breath left your lungs as you fell - you couldn’t even scream, not even when you crashed into the ground with a jolt that send your bones jarring against each other and a splintering agony up your arm where a shard of wood sticking out of the floor that was now a ceiling had sliced straight through the skin and muscle and nerves.


For several seconds after you landed, you couldn’t even breathe. Winded and delirious, you coughed feebly through a throat that felt like sandpaper. Feeling nothing - your skin was thick rubber; hearing nothing - just the ringing of your own blood in your ears, and seeing nothing - nothing but the gaping hole in the ceiling like a wound in a maw, bleeding dust instead of gore.


The pain in your arm was too agonising to be real, and even as you shifted slightly, the effort made a sweat break out on your forehead, and sent shockwaves from the jagged wound to ricochet over your body, making you whimper. Nevertheless, you persisted, grinding your teeth as you forced yourself to your feet. As you stood, black stars crowded your vision, making you sway dangerously -


And then a hand closes over your arm, right over your wound, and it’s as if they are made of salt and vinegar as their touch ignites such an agony on your arm, it as though you are being set a alight.


The pain is such that you almost black out, but there some sort of terrible wall, almost a barrier, baring you from unconsciousness. You’re far too weak to even scream as the face of a clown leers down at you from the vignettes of your vision, white face split in a bright red smile.


He throws you so you skid along the floor to slam into a wall. As you hit the brick with a choked moan, you register, dimly, the feeling of another breathing beside you. You grope blindly, with a bloodstained hand, and your fingers slide over Eddie’s hand, invisible to you in your pain-induced blindness, but you’d never felt skin so warm as you clung like a lifeline.


Your shrieks started up again as IT barrelled over to you, grabbing Eddie’s face with one hand and your’s with the other. Eddie writhed and whined, one continuous cry wavering in an out of audibility as a thin ribbon of saliva dripped down from IT’s vermilion lips.


Tasty, tasty…” the clown drawled, left hand moving from Eddie’s face to his arm. “Beautiful flesh…” Eddie shrieked as the clown moved it’s mouth closer - then retreated - then closer - and then retreated, a tantalising game heavy with the scent of blood.


“Let go of him!” you shouted, but your words were slurred in grogginess and pain, and the sound that left your mouth was more like, “leggo’a him!”


IT jumped extravagantly, twirling round to leer at you with a face-splitting grin cracking his skin. “You’re right!” the clown said delightfully. “Ladies first, yes?”


Your eyes squeezed shut as IT reached for your arm, and Eddie screamed in protest, and IT’s hot breath was on you - and then the door banged open, and the grip on your wrist slacked, and Bill and Richie were calling your’s and Eddie’s names at the top of their lungs.


After IT let you go, everything was blurry. You remembered screams and crashes, the rest of your friends crashing in. The only thing you could clearly recall was Stan.


Every nanosecond of that memory was in sharpest detail.


He ran straight over to you, swayed not by IT’s screams or flailing attacks. He crouched beside you, eyes wide, mouth wider, hands reaching out to touch you then recoiling in horror as his gaze scraped over the state of you.


“Holy shit,” he breathed. “Holy shit, you’re - you’re bleeding.” Looking around desperately, he ripped off his outer button-down shirt and swathed the wound in it, despite your cry and jerk of protest. “Ssh, shh, hey - we gotta slow the bleeding, okay? Just - shit, just - just focus on me, yeah? Don’t look over there, just look at me.”


You tried as best you could, your eyes fixated on his earnest face even as tears of pain and terror slid hot down your cheeks. You jumped at Beverly’s scream, but all was not as you feared. You looked on in awe and horror at the pipe sticking straight through IT’s head.


As though it were some sort of trigger, you knew now was the time to move. You attempted to get up, and once Stan cottoned on, he hooked an arm under your arms and hauled you to your feet. “Come on!” you screamed, and your voice was hoarse like silk on sandpaper as it soared over the panicked din. You and your friends surged for the door, Stan’s arm locked around you the whole time, half-carrying you every step until you all were out, out of that room.


“What now?” Stan panted as the eight of you clustered in the hallway.


I don’t know,” you replied with a feeble, bitter laugh. “I didn’t think we’d live this long.”


“Here!” Ben’s voice sounded loudly, and the next second, you were blinking in the clear, warm light of the summer’s day as a door was shoved open.


Stan made sure you were out first, stumbling and blinking in the bright light. Weakened, you slumped against him, and he caught you in surprise, looking quite lost as his eyes strayed down to your makeshift tourniquet, which was already deep red with blood and of almost of no use at all.


“Shit. Guys!” Stan shouted. He gently lowered you to sit against the rotting, rusted fence, then whirled round to face the other six. “Eddie, I - do you have your fanny pack?”


“Here,” came the wheezy reply, and next moment, you crowed and flinched as Stan’s bloodied shirt was torn away, replaced with a coarse gauze thar tightly encircled your arm from fore- to upper-arm as you writhed pathetically under his fumbling hands.


“You okay?” Stan asked, an almost frantic note in his voice as he sought affirmation. “Y/n, hey, talk to me. Are you okay?”


You gathered your strength enough to form a feeble nod, and Stan seemed to slump in relief, head coming forward to knock against yours.


“Hey, virgins,” Richie called weakly. “We kind of almost all just died. Can we cool off the raging hormones for like, ten minutes?”


“Shut up, Richie,” Bev’s voice countered, and the bespectacled kid was subsequently silenced.


You smiled weakly as Stan pulled himself back, hand latching onto your’s. “Don’t - don’t you ever-” he broke off, shaking his head furiously. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”


You huffed a laugh. “Seeing as dying isn’t really on my bucket list, I don’t think you have to worry about that.”


“Yeah. Good.” Finally, a tiny smile broke out on the boy’s face, and as you leant forward to kiss him chastely on the corner of the mouth - much to the disgust to your friends - the smile bloomed into a shy grin, cheeks pink as mallow-flowers under the Derry sun.

Fran and Jock

by reddit user Pippinacious/ tumblr user muricanmagpie

I was the last in a long line of grandkids on both sides of the family. No one has ever said as much, but I’m pretty sure I was an “oops” baby; the result of one too many glasses of wine and a couple over forty who thought unplanned pregnancies were for teens.

Oops.

Keep reading

december 31st, 2015, 10:23 pm: i saw you for the first time. you were talking to a girl and i could tell that you were capturing her with every syllable that left your mouth. and i knew why: you were beautiful and bright, and i was drawn to you even then, like the planets are drawn to the sun.

december 31st, 2015, 11:58 pm: we met standing in line for the bathroom. you introduced yourself, and asked for my name, smiling when i gave it. “lovely,” you murmured, and repeated it a few more times, rolling the letters around in your mouth like a new food.

january 1st, 2016, 12:05 am: i could still feel you on me, your lips, minutes, hours, months later. the clock had struck midnight and you just grabbed me, didn’t ask if it was okay until it was over. you were laughing, brushing it off, all teeth and well-kissed lips, but i knew i saw you blushing. 

january 21st, 2016, 1:12 pm: you got my number through the mutual friend that threw the party. i still don’t know how you got my address. i didn’t remember telling you. you couldn’t tell me, either.

february 14th, 2016, 9:12 pm: you took me out to dinner and bought me chocolate and roses. it was all so cliche, and i loved every second of it. when you kissed me good night, i swore i could feel the rest of my life, pressed right up against my lips.

february 26th, 2016, 11:33 pm: we made it official. i remember how you asked me, how shy you got, like you didn’t know what the answer would be.

march 17th, 2016, 5:43 pm: we spent the day at the saint patrick’s day parade, and you filled yourself with beer and kissed me hard against the bar bathroom door. i drove you home and that was the first time you told me you loved me.

march 18th, 2016, 9:24 am: you called me and told me you loved me again. “i want to make sure that you know i still mean it when i’m sober,” you said.

march 24th, 2016, 1:09 pm: i met your parents at easter brunch. you had demanded i come with you, and i was glad i did. your mother was kind and beautiful, and your father was warm and handsome, just like i knew they’d be. after we’d eaten, your mother got me alone. “he’s never brought a girl home before,” she told me, “normally he isn’t very open about who he’s dating. but you, you’re different. don’t read into this, but i think he may really think you’re special.”

april 12th, 2016, 8:31 pm: you saw me naked for the first time, and you kissed every inch of my skin. i’d never felt that much love from anybody before that night, and i haven’t since. not even you could replicate those few hours.

may 5th, 2016, 4:57 pm: we fought for the first time. i ran into my ex at the grocery store and wanted to chat for a few minutes. you didn’t. when we got in the car, you told me that if i was still in love with somebody else i could just leave, and i told you that you should trust me and not be so insecure about our relationship. we screamed the whole way home and you slammed the car door when i dropped you off. i almost crashed three times on the drive home.

may 6th, 2016, 8:03 am: you came by with flowers and breakfast. “I’m sorry,” you told me, “you just mean so much to me, and the thought of you ever being anyone else’s makes me sick.” i smiled, “but you don’t have to worry about that now. i’m yours.”

june 16th, 2016, 10:51 pm: for my birthday you took me out to dinner and gave me a beautiful necklace with a silver chain and pearl pendant. we drank expensive wine and stumbled back to my place and fucked. i had never been fucked before, not like this. i woke up the next morning with bite marks on my neck and hickeys all the way down my stomach, but you were gone. “had to run,” you’d written on a post it note, “i love you.”

june 18th, 2016, 2: 41 pm: i hadn’t seen you since my birthday and you weren’t picking up when i’d call.

june 19th, 2016, 3:13 am: “ had to run,” the post it note had said. maybe you were running from me. i couldn’t tell if it was the 3 am darkness talking or the part of me that already knew.

july 1st, 2016, 4:01 am: i looked over at you, sleeping in the darkness beside me. when we were together, things felt perfectly normal. but now, i could feel the shifts. “are we falling apart?” i whispered to you, and although i hadn’t expected an answer, the silence broke my heart all the same.

july 4th, 2016, 6:47 pm: we were at a barbecue and i saw you across the crowd, talking to a girl. i saw the way she was drinking up every word that escaped from between your lips, and that’s when i knew. that’s when i knew you weren’t mine anymore.
july 21st, 2016, 7:08 pm: i brought it up to you. “i think we’re starting to grow apart,” i said, “there’s a distance between us that wasn’t here before.” you reassured me that it was all in my head, but i didn’t hear it in your voice. i didn’t see it in your eyes. you knew it was there, too, but unlike me, you weren’t trying to do anything to stop it.

august 10th, 2016, 11:37 pm: i lay awake and thought about what your mother said, all these months later. “don’t read into this.” but of course i did. i couldn’t help myself. fuck, i loved you so much.
august 15th, 2016, 1:12 pm: you invited me over and i discovered that the key you’d given me no longer worked. “i had the locks changed,” you said, “i’ll get you a new one.” it was a lie, and i knew it. you didn’t get me a new key.

september 8th, 2016, 2:00 pm: i caught you cheating. in a desperate attempt to revive the romance we’d had at the beginning of our relationship, i bought dinner and brought it to your place. when you finally opened the door, i saw it written all over your face; the way your eyes widened, the way your jaw dropped, the way your cheeks drained of color. i heard it in the stammer of your voice, the sharp intake of your breath, the grinding of your teeth. when the girl walked up behind you, half naked, asking who it was at the door, i already knew. “how could you?” i whispered, and you just opened and closed your mouth. the girl pieced it together and started screaming. she hadn’t known. i left the food at the doorstep.

september 10th, 2016, 1:49 am: you never called after that, never came by, never reached out, but it wasn’t like we’d needed to confirm anything. i knew it was over, but it took every ounce of willpower i had not to go back to your place and find out why, why everything.

september 27th, 2016, 6:20 pm: i kept finding myself huddled in a ball; in my bedroom, in my kitchen, in my shower. not crying, or yelling. just huddled, clutching my body close to myself, staring. still not understanding.

october 31st 2016, 9:01 pm: i spent halloween haunted by the ghost of you. your face was around every corner. i could still feel your touch trickling down my spine. that night, i lost it. the anger surged through the sadness and bubbled to the surface. i screamed until my throat was raw, screamed at nothing, about nothing, for no reason other than i was too full.

november 10th, 2016, 2:17 am: you called me when you were drunk and i answered. i listened to you ramble, vomiting up apology after apology. near the end, you told me you loved me. “call me tomorrow when you’re sober if you still love me,” i said.  you didn’t. 

november 25th, 2016, 7:15 pm: i went out on a date with somebody new. they didn’t pull me in like you did, but for a few hours, i forgot about you and i felt okay. i drank myself to sleep that night so i wouldn’t have to think about you. the next morning, the hangover hurt more than you did. it was a start.

december 24th, 2016, 8:12 pm: i was spending christmas with my family, and i was doing great until my aunt asked about you. i told her you cheated, but i was doing okay, and then i excused myself and threw up the appetizers into the toilet. i called you then, and when you picked up, i let out a sob. “you ruined me, you fuck,” i croaked, “and you can’t even apologize. not when you’re sober, at least.” there were a few seconds of silence, and then you hung up. i still hope that it ruined your christmas.

december 31st, 2016, 10:23 pm: i saw you for the first time in months across the crowd. it made me sick to know that even after all that had happened, you were still the most beautiful person in the room to me.

december 31st, 2016, 11:55 pm: you found me in the kitchen. “i wanted to tell you i’m sorry,” you yelled over the music, “and i miss you.” and in those final moments of the year, i thought about it. i thought about letting you back in. the countdown started, and you moved closer to me. and i.. i pushed you away. i turned away from you and said, “no. i can’t.” and i walked out of the room.

january 1st, 2017, 12:05 am: i have forgotten how you felt against me, your lips. and for the first time, i am finally okay with that.

—  a year in review -c.h. // instagram: @evanescent.love (via @poeticaffinity)
Beginner Witch Tips

WARNING: I am a sarcastic butthole and it shows through out this hot mess of a post. This is some random craft junk I have learned in my days of practicing witchcraft

Witch craft is not magic.

I don’t care what you have heard. Witchcraft is not magic. It can not turn your eyes different colors. It can not make you into a animal. You will not be able to control the weather or summon wind with your fingers. Ghosts will not do as you say. This is not Harry Potter. Case closed

Intent over tools

Do you think it’s gonna matter if you use a butter knife as an athame? Or you have to sub a white candle for another color because you don’t have the funds to buy that color? Or you had to leave out an ingredient because you don’t have it or you’re allergic? No, it’s not. Witchcraft (to me) is about mind over matter. If you are making an effort for your God/god/goddess/deity/elf/fae/etc it isn’t gonna matter what or how you got there, but the intent you had getting there

Cursing and hexing is up to you and your beliefs

Totally up to you if you believe that this is okay or not. However, if you don’t like this, do not go and tell someone else it’s wrong. If they ask you how you feel you can tell them it’s not your thing. If you do like this, do not go and tell someone else it’s fine and try to get them to accept it. If they ask you about it, you can tell them that you are into it

You do not have to have an alter

It’s up to you and your practice. And if you can where you are etc. If you want one and can not have one, draw one or, my favorite, Set up a pinterest board for your god/goddess/fae/elf/deity etc. and save things that you thing relate to them.

It’s not about fancy stuff

This goes back to intent over tools, as long as you are comfortable with what you are doing and using, do it and use it. I use salsa and yogurt containers, coffee filters taped together, M&M tubes, and envelopes to keep crap in. I use a 99¢ Wal-Mart bandanna to do spells on that I got from Girl Scout camp and it has rainbow peace signs all over it. Do I care? Nope. Does anyone else care or will they judge you? Nope. we are all in the same boat here.

Hand making things is way too underrated  

I LOVE hand making things. Whether you are good or bad at it, it is a good way to save money, and personalize it just for you. Example: I made tarot cards out of printer paper that I cut out and wrote the card name, and definition of what it means (to me) and I love them. Pencil wand? Yas queen. DIY cauldron out of play-dough? Frick me u p daddy.

DONT EAT/SMOKE/DRINK SOMETHING YOU HAVE NO CLUE ABOUT

You’d think I would have to include this bUT
Some things are okay to consume. Sometimes if taking a certain medicine you can’t consume that. Sometimes you are allergic to one thing, and in turn you will be allergic to that thing too. Sometimes you are pregnant and it’S HIGHLY DANGEROUS TO CONSUME THINGS WITHOUT KNOWING WHAT IT DOES

Never ignore professional medical advice and help in favor of witchcraft methods.

Case c l o s e d

Spirit workers

Not nice spirits can attach to people who have depression and anxiety more so than people who don’t

There are good and bad spirits. if one makes you feel comfomy, do not feel bad for asking it to leave/getting rid of it

Don’t ask your tarot cards every time you have a question

This happens a lot. Especially when you get a new deck and it’s so new and shiny and you can’t w a i t to get your grubby little hands on it and do crap >:D but you don’t want to get into the habbit of “ohgoshgollybatman I have to go to the store, okay let’s see if I’ll get hit by a car… oh and do I really need the applejuice..”  or “do I REALLY need this plant..” bc the answer to that is always yes duh

Divination is not for predicting the future

Now stay with me, it is for guiding you in the future. It can not tell you what day you are going to die, who you are going to marry, etc 

The future is not written in stone

Let’s sayyyyy you do a simple past, present, and future reading with tarot, and you get a bad reading for the future, it doesn’t matter. That is how it is going right now, now you can see what you need to change etc 

You dont need a fancy journal for a grimore or book of shawdows

Heckadoodle I use a binder and notebook paper so I can move stuff around. I just write with a pencil and pen, and color with dollar store crayons or collered pencils. 
Now, you may be thinking, “Oh but, it’s a nice binder right?” Lemme stop you right there. It is falling apart, needs to be ducktaped, has a picture of my doggo inside and I’ve used it for school for abouutt.. 7 years?
Summin’ it up: It don’t gotta be fancy

If you forget to blow out candles set a timer on your phone

I do this all the freaking time and I’ll leave a candle out, and then here comes mother. Closet underage witches know the struggle. Trying to explain why you have a burning candle left in your room. Or if you are adult and have to adult after a spell or whatever and leave the house and come back to the candle just sittin’ there. Burning away. (my mom did this once and it caught her table on fire)
Timer. Yep.

You don’t have to know a certain language 

This is more focused to me bc i am nerd but okie dokie
I know Latin from school, therefore I mix it into my spells (like some on @witchy-recipes-and-things) and provide a translation. I don’t want anyone to think you have to have a certain language for your craft.

How to Ouija

Tbh this is too long already so if you want another post on it tell me and I’ll make one and link it

Sigils can be drawn everywhere

In your phone case, in your wallet, in a shoe, under fingernail polish, under seats, wherever whatever-I can also elaborate more on this

TAROT IS PRONOUNCED “TARO”

CONSENT IS KEY

When doing love spells, consent from the other person is a must. 

You can be a christian, athiest, pagan, whatever, and still do witchcraft

It is about the craft, not religion 

Witchcraft is not a religion, Wicca is

And you do not have to be Wiccan to partake in Witchcraft

Sage doesn’t have to be in cone shape to burn it

I put rubbed sage meant for cooking on a metal plate and torch the sucker Shane Dawson style but with one of the long lighters, then run around my house in my underware screaming “MAY THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPEL YOU BITCH” in Latin

When cleansing 

OPEN.THE.WINDOWS.WHEN.DEALING.WITH.SMOKE
Trust your witch mother who is allergic to everything and is an asthmatic, open the windows and doors.
Also, as the smoke leaves you room through the windows or whatever, the spirits/bad vibes/etc leave with it

You don’t have to believe everything you read

Witchcraft is how YOU feel about things. No matter how other people feel about things

You can have your own corresponces for things

Like I think cinnamon is hot, deals with the sun, direction south, used for healing love etc., but it can be totally different for you

Divination doers do not have to be witches and witches do not have to be divination doers

S T U D Y

Can not stress this enough. This is the best thing to do even if you can not practice your craft where you are atm. knowledge is power.

So here is a list I’ve complied :D (yes I’ve made all of these, I was too bored to ask people’s permission to add things, sue me) (All of the spells are all religion inclusive)

Learn you star sign with detail
Edible Flower List
Witch Tools
Tarot Meanings Cheat Sheet

Good First Spell-Calming Tea Spell
DIY Charcoal Pencil
Get Shit Done Bottle
Spell to Sleep
Sea in a Bottle
Protection and Calm Bottle
Find a Item You Lot

Referring to “When cleansing”, Line two, words 3-4, I am now your witch mother and if you ever have any questions feel free to ask! This list was requested from a witchling and if you have any requests feel free to ask :3

Let’s Get Something Straight.

LET HUFFLEPUFFS HAVE A RESTING BITCH FACE. LET HUFFLEPUFFS BE FIREY AND PASSIONATE. LET HUFFLEPUFFS BE INCREDIBLY WITTY AND STUDIOUS. LET HUFFLEPUFFS GET INTO FIST FIGHTS.

LET HUFFLEPUFFS BE MORE THAN FICKLE, POLITE, PACIFIST, HAPPY-GO-LUCKY, BLITHE, AND APPROACHABLE. BEING A HUFFLEPUFF IS MORE THAN LOOKING INNOCENT AND SWEET.

I am a Hufflepuff with a horrible resting bitch face. I am a Hufflepuff who people see as unapproachable. I am a Hufflepuff with strong beliefs and passion.

The traits found in Hufflepuff are listed below:

  • Dedication
  • Hard Work
  • Fair play
  • Patience
  • Kindness
  • Tolerance
  • Unafraid of toil
  • Loyalty

Hufflepuffs are dedicated. They are dedicated to their studies, their friends, their families, their hobbies- Hufflepuffs show dedication to the things they love. They don’t dedicate themselves to be praised. it is a self sacrificing quality, much like the rest of the Hufflepuff House traits. Dedication goes hand-in-hand with hard work. It’s enduring when shit hits the fan, it’s getting out of bed when all you want to do is sleep, it’s not accepting handouts, it’s becoming successful through honest work. Hufflepuffs get the most out of working hard, not smart. This isn’t because they aren’t smart, it’s because they believe it benefits them more. Hardwork brings knowledge. They learn how to fight with integrity to get what they want. They most definitely aren’t ones to cheat. Given the choice between cheating and failure, they would choose failure.

Patience is a virtue. I don’t take this to mean that Hufflepuffs don’t mind waiting around if a friend is running late, it means that Hufflepuffs are more willing than most to put a cap on their temperament. Hufflepuffs don’t get bothered easy. Whether it’s from natural ability or a constantly running internal monologue keeping them from blowing a fuse, they manage to handle adversity with as much dignity and grace as they can muster. I think it’s hard to tell what a Hufflepuff is thinking because they keep their opinions to themselves unless asked to express it. Patience has nothing to do with passion. A Hufflepuff is a master at picking their battles. They know what’s worth losing their temper over.  

Kindness: benevolent, intended for benefits rather than profit, loving, expressing goodwill. Who the fuck wants to be mean and rude all the time to everyone? Being kind does not mean being pushover. When did it become taboo to be kind? Why is being edgy all the sudden associated with being rude, pretentious, mean and cynical? Being kind is sincerely asking someone “how are you?” and being unafraid to receive an honest and drawn out response. Being kind is being a good listener, helping people for their benefit and not your own, it’s picking up trash in the movie theater so that the staff has less to clean. Being kind is leaving sweet, anonymous notes for people just to make their day a little bit better. Being kind is reveling in making someone smile or laugh. Being kind is smiling back when someone smiles at you. To be benevolent, to be nice, to be kind pushes away all self interest. It’s a selfless trait.

Tolerance is just nodding along with some gun slinging, homophobic, misogynistic jerk rambling about how Donald Trump will make America “great again”, even though you strongly disagree. Hufflepuffs, if you’ll notice, get along with virtually each house. They do not take it upon themselves to judge. Hufflepuffs are masters at accepting things that they cannot change; they cope well with diversity. If someone came up to a Hufflepuff and said that they were a supporter of pure-blood supremacy, the Hufflepuff would nod, say something (passive but sincere) along the lines of “that’s an interesting opinion,” then carry on with their day. Though they may not be at all happy about what was said, they do not take it upon themselves to get everyone to see the way that they see things. You can’t force people to listen. It’s not that Hufflepuffs don’t have opinions, they do, but, as the saying goes, “Opinions are like assholes, everybody has one.” They find that people respect your opinion and ask for it more when you present a judgement free environment for them.

This house is loyal. They’re a tolerant bunch, sure, but they will not tolerate bullies. It’s their sense of fraternity and loyalty that gives Hufflepuff something worth fighting for. It wouldn’t surprise me to see a Hufflepuff seventh year getting into a fist fight with a Ravenclaw seventh year because the Ravenclaw was making snarky remarks about a first year getting sorted into Hufflepuff. Hufflepuffs will argue, punch, kick, pull hair and scream if you somehow hurt someone they hold dear to them.  Don’t forget how fucking raw Badgers are. They’re one of the most fearless animals in the animal kingdom. This can maybe be seen as a flaw, however. In Goblet of Fire, the Hufflepuff House got so caught up in the competition between Cedric and Harry, good judgement was blurred by their unwavering loyalty. This brings me to believe that Hufflepuffs, if sufficiently provoked, can attack with the most underhanded and vicious insults ever. I don’t think it would be wise to bring a Hufflepuff to their breaking point in hopes of seeing this animosity. In most circumstances, however, loyalty is a virtue.  

I am so sick of the stigma that Hufflepuffs are these soft little balls of dough that are just so lukewarm compared to the other houses. Need I remind y’all that Hufflepuffs fought at the Battle of Hogwarts without hesitation? They rose to the occasion, they weren’t indifferent about the situation at hand at all- they were selfless, they were fearless. They fought because they loved their school, their friends, their teachers, and because it was the right thing to do.

  • Kindness should not be mistaken for weakness.
  • Tolerance should not be mistaken for neutrality
  • Patience should not be mistaken for dispassion
  • Loyalty gives them reason to fight
  • Hardwork and dedication make them goal-oriented
  • Fair play does not mean there is a lack of initiative

A Hufflepuff is not a clone of the Pillsbury Dough Boy. Hufflepuffs can have strong opinions, be passionate, reckless, brave, and enterprising.

Because Helga Hufflepuff didn’t sort her students by a particular aptitude, Hufflepuff should be one of the most diverse houses in Hogwarts. So don’t generalize all Hufflepuffs to fit the “looks like a cinnamon roll and is a cinnamon roll” archetype. Hufflepuffs can be fierce as fuck.

Oh my God, we're so sorry we blocked your doorway. Now go get your ear muffs.

I’ve had a long respectable career in game development. A couple of years ago I’ve abandoned it for a cushy corporate job, and now spend most of my days missing gamedev.

This story takes place about 10 years ago at the apex of my career.

I was the lead on a AAA project. Our parent company, for which videogames was just one of many lines of business, was going through changes. We had to move offices three times in one year. Second of the three moves, always intended to be temporary, put us into the basement of an older building long occupied by satellite departments not involved with development.

The basement we were given had been empty for years, save for the most distant office. You entered the basement through a dimly lit staircase. Then, after you snaked through a horror-movie-like maze of corridors and interconnected small rooms, you’d eventually arrive at the farthest room of all.

A golden plaque was on the door.

Trademark Compliance Department.

Keep reading

ARE YOU STILL SCREAMING ABOUT THOR: RAGNAROK? BECAUSE I’M STILL SCREAMING ABOUT IT. I need so much slice-of-life on the ship fic, I need so much kissing-and-more resolution to the hug scene, I need so much speculation on what happens when they get to where they’re going, I need so much about the various friendships forming, I need so much fic about a whole bunch of people crammed into a relatively small ship for months and the hilarious and awful things that happen because of it. AND FANDOM IS DEFINITELY ON A ROLL WITH IT, THERE’S MORE GREAT STUFF.  (Part one is here!)

THOR: RAGNAROK FIC RECS:
The Breath Between Regrets by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse), thor/loki & valkyrie & heimdall & hulk & korg, ragnarok spoilers, 9.5k
   The journey to Midgard should take a year and a day. Long enough for many things.
What the Thunder Said by kyrilu, thor/loki, ragnarok spoilers, ~1k
   Days after the battle, Thor’s skin is still sparking lightning.
the silver forked sky by powerfulsound, thor/loki, ragnarok spoilers, nsfw, 1.2k
   There is a storm, sparking under Thor’s skin. Attracted to it, a magpie to shiny things, Loki is helpless in Thor’s wake.
Reunion by riventhorn, thor/loki, nsfw, ragnarok spoilers, 1.3k
   After so long apart, Loki can’t help being drawn to Thor.
Privilege to love by will_thewisp, thor/loki, NSFW, ragnarok spoilers, 2.6k
   He didn’t know why Loki felt the need to fight him on every ground, to hide things that had no business being hidden, but he was determined to meet him on every occasion. To Thor it seemed that Loki fought with himself as much as with Thor.
followed you down by homovikings, thor/loki & heimdall & valkyrie & tony & sif & cast, ragnarok spoilers, 5.3k
   It’s Asgard but it isn’t.
drowning on your shore by psikeval, thor/loki, ragnarok spoilers, 1.3k
   Loki, entirely solid, does not flicker and does not flinch.
In my Arms by wetdandelions, thor/loki, NSFW, ragnarok spoilers, 1.2k
   “I’m here,” says Loki. Set after the end of Thor: Ragnarok. PWP. SPOILERS.
In the Flesh by hjbender, thor/loki, NSFW, ragnarok spoilers, intersex!loki, 6.3k
   Loki stares back, gives the stopper a gentle toss. It sparkles briefly in the air before he catches it again. “There isn’t anything else you’d like to give me? Nothing you’d like to say? Because”—he spreads his arms and smiles invitingly, both hands suddenly empty—“here I am.”
Nowhere Is Home Unless We’re Both In the Same Place by Velocity_Owl87, thor/loki, ragnarok spoilers, 1.3k
   After the dust has settled, Thor realizes the implications of Kingship and Asgard’s future mean for him as the new King of Asgard. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to grapple with the situation alone, at least.
Heroes Run Towards Their Problems by Naiveandoptimistic, thor & loki & valkyrie & hulk & korg & cast, ragnarok spoilers, 1.6k
   Post-Ragnarok. Valkyrie is a drunken hot mess. Loki conceals, Hulk worries, and Thor gives some wisdom.
Not an Illusion by janto321 (FaceofMer), thor/loki, NSFW, ragnarok spoilers, ~1k
   Loki and Thor find comfort in one another
black sheep and mischief by grim_lupine, thor & loki, ragnarok spoilers, 3.2k
   A bird alights on Thor’s shoulder and pecks his cheek twice, hard enough to make him wince. “What are you doing?” it warbles in his ear. “Wondering what my brother is doing up at this hour, little bird,” Thor replies. “Will you go ask him for me?”
Never Doubt That I Love You by ValkyrieShepard, thor/loki & heimdall & valkyrie & hulk & cast, NSFW, ragnarok spoilers, 10.6k
   After Thor’s proposal, Loki pulls away. As Thor is busy trying to rule his people, Loki finds him again, and the two of them scout a possible planet for their people where Thor tries to get through his brother’s walls. There is much Loki has to work through.
after you, i dont know what i believe in by CallicoKitten, thor/loki & valkyrie & bruce & heimdall & cast, ragnarok spoilers, 9.6k
   aka, the long road to midgard
Crossroads by kyrilu, loki & heimdall, ragnarok spoilers, ~1k
   As Loki leaves Sakaar with a shipload of former prisoners, Heimdall decides to ‘visit.’
victory runes by spookykingdomstarlight, thor/loki, ragnarok spoilers, 3.3k
   A snake couldn’t change its colors, try as he might, trust his own intentions as he wanted to. At this moment, legs braced on either side of Thor’s lap, he couldn’t imagine doing anything to undermine Thor’s rule, his wants, his needs. But tomorrow was another day and Loki’s whims were mercurial.

full details + recs under the cut!

Keep reading

married part 5- h.s imagine

you can read part 4 here

You let out a scream as you ran around in the kitchen. Lucas turned the corner, laughing as he chased you. You panicked as you realized you hit a dead end. Lucas smirked as he inched closer to you. “Where you gonna go now, babe?”

You crossed your arm and gave a pout. “Not fair. You always win.” Lucas gave a chuckle as he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer against him. “I won a long time ago.”

Your cheeks blushed as you tilted your head up to connect your lips together with Lucas.

After your birthday last year, you vowed to get over Harry. You couldn’t pine after him anymore. It wasn’t fair to you or his marriage. Moving on from Harry was definitely a struggle and occasionally your mind would drift off to see how he was doing. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t miss him because you did. Harry’s made no effort to contact you. You couldn’t blame him though. You knew that if he found out your feelings for him, your friendship would somehow fall apart and sure enough, it did.

You’ve been with Lucas for about three months now. You guys rekindled when you accidentally ran into him at the store. You apologized for never getting back in touch with him after your first date and the rest is history. Lucas was sweet. He was really sweet. Sometimes when you were with him, you didn’t think about Harry.

You pulled away from Lucas as your phone started to ring. Lucas let out a groan as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Ignore it.”

You chuckled as you pulled out your phone from your back pocket. You immediately knew who was calling without even having to look at the caller ID. “Niall’s being a little groomzilla. If I ignore him, I’m pretty sure he’ll find a way to hunt me down.”

Lucas rolled his eyes playfully before he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “It’s so hard when everyone wants to take my girl away from me” he joked before leaving you alone to answer the call.

You shook your head as you let out a chuckle before you answered your phone. “What’s wrong now, Niall?”

“The seating arrangement is all wrong!” Niall yelled from the other side, frustration laced in his voice.

You pulled your phone back from your ear, wincing at Niall’s booming voice. “Listen Horan, you better watch your tone with me or I won’t help with the wedding anymore!”

Niall gulped. “I’m sorry. Can you please help with the seating arrangement?” Niall begged into the phone. You smirked as you mentally praised yourself for having Niall wrapped around your finger. “I’ll be over soon.”


Since you and Harry cut ties, you and Niall have become closer. He was your blessing in disguise. You could never thank Niall enough for being there for you when you just really needed a shoulder to cry on. Niall managed to find a girl that was head over heels for him. He was absolutely in love with her. You would like to say you thought Niall marrying someone he’s only known for less than a year was absolutely crazy but you couldn’t. Emma was perfect for Niall. When you first met her, she welcomed you with open arms and you could see how much love Niall had for her. You knew in your heart that they were perfect for each other.

Niall sighed out of relief when he opened the door. His hair was a mess from the amount of times he’s run his hands through it out of frustration. “Niall, I see you’re looking as beautiful as ever.” you chuckled as you stepped into his apartment. You gave a quick hug to Emma who was sitting in the kitchen.

Niall quickly brought out a giant piece of paper. It was like some sort of blue print. It had circles drawn on it to represent the tables, a square to represent the dance floor, a rectangle to represent where the DJ was gonna be. It was the nightmare of every wedding. Niall sighed as he placed the paper in front of you. “We need your help deciding where to put who.” Niall explained.

Emma shrugged her shoulders as she took a sip of wine. “I say we let everyone sit where they’d like to. Who cares about assigned seating?” Niall placed his hand on his forehead before he smiled sweetly. “I told you, honey. If everyone decided to sit where they wanted to then it’ll be a big mess. Each table seats 10 people. What if someone wants to sit at a table that already has 10 people sitting there? They can’t just pull up a chair as they please cause that’ll mean one table will only have 9 guests. We are having assigned seats!”

You and Emma both looked at each other with wide eyes from Niall’s outburst. His breathing was hard as he stared at a sheet with everyone’s name on it. You cleared your throat, “I may need a glass of wine myself for this.”

You looked at who was next on the guest sheet. “Oh! Louis. So we can put him and Eleanor with Liam and Cheryl at table 7.” You quickly wrote Louis’s and Eleanor’s name down on the blue print. Niall nodded as he took a swig of his beer. “Make sure you write Freddie’s and Bear’s name down as well.” You nodded as you began to write. “Who’s next on the list?”

Emma grabbed the guest sheet. “Harry-” Emma paused, her eyes widening a bit as she cleared her throat. “Styles…” Niall and Emma stared at you with weary eyes. Emma’s met Harry a couple of times and she loved him. She thought he was the absolute gentleman and she couldn’t believe what happened between you and him. She never knew Harry was capable of such heartbreak.

Your eyes remained focused on the blue print. You tried to remain unfazed, “Ok. Let’s put him and Kimberly at table 7 as well.” You began to write Harry’s name down before Niall cleared his throat. “Actually Y/N. Kimberly isn’t attending the wedding.”

You sighed as you placed your pencil down. You smiled softly at Emma and Niall sitting in front of you. “It’s sweet of you guys to not invite her but I’ll be fine. Besides, I think Harry would be pretty upset knowing he couldn’t bring his own wife.”

Emma looked at her fiancé. Her eyes telling him to tell you the news they recently got. Niall nodded, he turned back to you. “Harry and Kimberly filed for a divorce last month, Y/N.” You let out a small gasp before Emma explained, “He told us two weeks ago when we met for dinner.”

Your eyes were staring at Harry’s name written down on the blue print in front of him. Your eyes softened as you thought about Harry was feeling all about this. For as long as you knew Harry, you knew how he looked down at getting a divorce. Coming from divorced parents himself, he always saw divorce as giving up. You quickly shook your head, grabbing your pencil again. “That’s unfortunate to hear. Who’s next on the list?”

Emma came around the kitchen counter and placed her hand on your arm softly. “Do you want to talk about it?” Niall nodded his head, reaching across the counter to place his hand on top of yours. “We’re here for you, Y/N.”

You smiled softly as you looked between the couple. “I’m fine, you guys. I promise.” You looked down. “It’s unfortunate Harry has to go through this. And I wish him nothing but the best.” You looked up at the couple. “Now who’s next?”

Emma and Niall exchanged a worried look before Niall sighed as he looked at the list. “Rory…Rory’s next.”


You sighed as you stared at your reflection in front of you. You ran your hands over your dress and smiled as you remembered the last time you wore this dress.

You thanked Harry as he handed you a glass of punch. Harry sat down on the chair next to you as he took in the scene around him. You and Harry went back to Holmes Chapel to celebrate Anne’s birthday. The backyard was filled with family and friends. The sun was about to set, fairy lights hung and music playing in the background. You laughed as you saw the younger kids dancing on the dance floor in the middle of the yard. Harry grabbed your hand and placed a gentle kiss on top of it. “I’m really happy you’re here, Y/N.”

You could feel your cheeks burning slightly as your eyes softened. “Of course, H. I would never miss Anne’s birthday. I adore her.”

Harry’s mouth opened to say something before one of your favorite songs bounced off the speakers. Harry instantly noticed the way your eyes sparkled and your smile widened as the “Photograph” started to play. Harry stood up and held his hand out to you. “May I have this dance?”

You giggled as you stood up, grabbing Harry’s hand. He led the two of you to the middle of the dance floor. You placed your arms around his neck as he placed his around your waist. Harry’s eyes were staring at you intently. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Harry whispered. You smiled as you looked down at your feet. “Shut up you goof.”

Harry smiled, placing his hand on your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. “You’re gorgeous, Y/N.”

You were interrupted by your thoughts as Lucas knocked on your door. “Are you ready, babe?” You grabbed your purse before you looked at your reflection once again. “Ready.” you whispered.

As the car was taking you and Lucas to where Niall’s and Emma’s rehearsal dinner was being held, your foot was tapping anxiously. You could feel your palms becoming sweaty as you inched closer and closer to the restaurant. Lucas placed his hand on your thigh. “Are you alright?”

You smiled nervously while shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

You weren’t. In a couple of minutes, you were going to be in the same room as Harry. You were going to finally see him after a year of cutting ties with each other. Would he say something to you? Should you say something to him? Was he going to bring up what happened that night? Is he going to talk about Kimberly?

As the car halted outside of the restaurant, you could feel yourself becoming nauseous. The restaurant looked great. It was closed for the event. You smiled at the small decorations scattered around the room. There were pictures of Niall and Emma throughout their relationship. Lucas gently kissed your cheek, “Good call on the photos.”

You let out a small shrug as you smiled. A slightly tipsy Niall and a sober Emma walked up to you and Lucas.

“Y/N!” the couple to be shouted, pulling you into a hug. You laughed as you hugged both of them. Emma leaned back. “Oh Y/N. We can’t thank you enough for helping with everything. I can sleep well tonight knowing everything is taken care of because of you.”

Niall nodded his head rapidly. “You were pretty much our wedding planner. Please. Let us pay you a little something for all the handwork you did.” He began to grab his wallet out of his pocket. You swatted at Niall’s arm, giving them a scowl.

“No! I could never take your money!” Niall was about to argue before you continued. “Niall, you’ve helped me so much for the past year. I can’t thank you enough. So think of this as me repaying you.” Niall’s eyes softened. He pulled you into another hug. “I told you everything would get better eventually” he whispered as he recalled the words he would say to you repeatedly during your falling out with Harry. You smiled as you squeezed Niall tighter in the hug. You pulled away and gave another hug to Emma.

The couple promised to meet with you and Lucas again before they went around to mingle with all of their friends and family. Lucas placed his hand on your waist. “I’m going to get us something to drink.” He said before he placed a kiss on your cheek and walking away.

As soon as Lucas walked away, you suddenly felt cold. You could feel eyes burning at the back of your head. You turned around slowly to see Harry standing across the room. He was staring at you with sadness in his eyes. You let out a shiver as it was the same look he gave you that night. You shook your head as you turned back around. You quickly walked away, wanting to get as far as you possibly could. You stepped out onto the restaurant patio. You let out a deep breath as you ran your hand through your hair.

“Y/N…”

You spun around to see Harry standing in front of you. You closed your eyes briefly, “Harry.”

Harry’s eyes softened as he took you in. “It’s so nice to see you again. You look beautiful.” You shook your head. You quickly murmured, “I can’t do this” before you pushed past Harry to go back inside.

“Are you happy?”

You halted as you turned back around. “What?”

Harry walked closer. “With him? Are you happy?” You looked at the ground before Harry continued, “Cause I’m a bloody mess without you.”

Your eyes filled with anger as you stepped closer to Harry. You poked him in the chest. “No! You can’t say things like that! You’re married!” Harry grabbed your hand, “I filed for a divorce!” Harry sighed as he glanced down before his eyes met yours. “What happened that night absolutely wrecked me, Y/N. For the rest of my life, I will always regret that night. I missed your fucking birthday, Y/N. I’ve never felt so disgusted with myself. I tried moving on. I tried being the best husband I could possibly could to Kimberly but I couldn’t. You! You were on my mind constantly! I couldn’t do a single thing without thinking about you! All I could see was you crying. All I could see was how much I hurt you. I will never be able to forgive myself. But Y/N. I fucking love you.”

By the end of Harry’s speech, the two of you had tears in your eyes. Harry wiped your eyes before he whispered, “I love you, Y/N.”

Harry’s eyes glanced between your eyes and lips. Suddenly he placed his lips on yours.


thank you guys so much for 2k followers! i created this blog because people like @harry-writings and @permanentcross & so much other amazing writers INSPIRED me to write things of my own! whenever i read something they wrote, i would remain in awe. i would constantly refresh their pages to see if they updated. knowing that people are doing the same to my own writing and even asking me for advice for their own blog makes me so…happy. and just so grateful. i love each and every one of you. THANK YOU ALL. 

you can find all my writing here

you can find part 6 here

tight spaces.

Originally posted by esgaroths

steve x reader 

warnings: swearing, basically pure fucking smut, choking.

prompt: getting stuck in a closet with steve rogers and his tight pants while on a mission.

A/N: once again, this is just pure unedited smut so here you go. feel free to send in requests. :-)

“you better not fucking leave me!” you hissed, gripping steve by the arm and looking him dead in the eyes.

“i wasn’t leaving, i was just going to check if the coast is clear.” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“of course it’s not fucking clear, there’s hydra agents all over the fucking place, you dumb fuck!” your heart beat was erratic as you dug your nails into his arm, glaring at him.

“there’s no need for that!” steve announced, just to be shushed by you.

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bashfyl  asked:

*incoherent screaming* You opened prompts! Sterek: Not yet together sterek. The idea is a bath and Stiles how did you get that there?!? Thank you.

Taking Sterek Prompts | Filling Prompts Live

———

“Are you going to get in?” Stiles asked, peeling out of his last shirt, his words a little slurry around the edges. “In a- a- a-” He paused, trying rather unsuccessfully to shake his hand free of his sleeve. He started laughing uncontrollably and collapsed to the floor to work on his shoes. “The water, are you?”

“No,” Derek groused, pointedly not looking when Stiles flopped onto his back and began to shimmy out of his soaked pants. Black slime coated almost every square inch of the floor. “This is your bath, not mine.”

“Mine,” Stiles echoed, now just lying on the floor in a puddle of black, his pale skin coated head to foot in the gunk. “This is not my house.”

“Yes,” Derek agreed, as patiently as he could, checking the water’s temperature before turning off the tap. It had to be extra hot to affect the stuff. “This is the clinic.”

Deaton had explained that even minimal contact with the ichorous substance gave a contact high. Stiles had been practically drenched in the stuff when they had killed it. Luckily it was not deadly or even toxic- which was the problem. Someone had been keeping the creature as a pet, drawing out the fluid and selling it, and it had escaped three days ago to wreak havoc.

Very, very unfortunately, Derek had drawn the short straw for ensuring Stiles got cleaned up and came down from the high safely. Isaac, Boyd, and Erica were taking care of disposal of the body while Scott and Allison swung by Allison’s house to return weapons and report to her father. Deaton had been kind enough - or perhaps had enough self preservation - to give Derek the key to the clinic so he could get Stiles washed up away from his father’s questions.

“Come on,” Derek said gently, slipping from the edge of the tub to crouch at Stiles’ side. It was, he reflected, a very good thing that werewolves were not susceptible to the substance’s effects. “You gotta get cleaned up.” The effects wouldn’t wear off until every drop of the ichor was gone.

Stiles lifted his head, looking all the way down his lean form. “Oh, no, no that’s too far,” he told Derek, head falling back with an audible clunk he was probably going to feel in a few hours. “Wow, this is the best floor ever. Do you think I could take it home with me?”

“No,” Derek said with a sigh. Looked like this was going to have to be the hard way. He shifted, kneeling beside Stiles, and grabbed at his wrists to haul him up.

Despite that they slipped and slid a bit, Derek managed to get a very naked Stiles upright and across the three feet to the tub. For a second Stiles stood very still, holding tightly onto the edge of it like he was going to resist going in. Then he tipped forward and faceplanted directly into the basin so quickly Derek had to scramble to keep him from drowning.

“Hoooooo!!!!” Stiles shouted the second his mouth was above the surface, water sluicing away the ichor clinging to his skin. “It’s hot, Derek! This is really hot, why is it so hot? Oh my god, I’m melting!” He started grabbing at the black liquid coming off his skin.

Closing his eyes, Derek counted to three. Then five. Then ten, for good measure, and when he opened them again, Stiles had fallen very, very still and was staring wide eyed into the middle distance. It was not exactly an improvement, but at least he’d stopped thrashing, slopping water and ichor all over the floor and flinging it onto the walls and- and was that- on the ceiling?

“Stiles, how did you- you know what, nevermind,” Derek grumbled, reaching for the spray nozzle.

This setup was supposed to be for cleaning dogs, but it would work just as well for ornery, tripping humans. He began to run the spray over Stiles’ hair, watching the black give way to brown. When the tub had filled completely, Derek pulled the plug and let it drain. Diluted like this with water, it wouldn’t hurt the general populace; at worst, they’d all have a really good day soon.

Stiles’ eyes slid closed, and he relaxed into the gentle touches Derek used to turn him this way and that, to get at the last of the ichor still clinging to strange places like inside of his ears and between his fingers and- well, at least Stiles was unlikely to remember any of this very well tomorrow.

By the time he had gotten the last of it, Stiles had turned to putty in his hands, making a soft, pleasant humming noise that might have been purring on a cat. Derek swallowed hard, trying to keep it together. He still needed to get Stiles someplace to wait out the high, and get this place cleaned up so no one else would be affected.

Difficult to think of anything beyond the way Stiles pressed himself into Derek’s touches. “Feels good,” Stiles murmured, unwilling or unable to keep his eyes open. “You should touch me more.”

“Tomorrow,” Derek mumbled back, prodding Stiles to his feet. The floor was still covered in ichor, so Derek just leaned over and scooped a completely unresisting Stiles into his arms. Immediately, Stiles looped his own arms around Derek’s neck and burrowed his nose against Derek’s shoulder. “If you still want me to touch you tomorrow, I will.”

“Okay,” Stiles agreed muzzily.

He wouldn’t remember. No one else had. Still…

He allowed himself a small smile, and a measure of hope. Stiles had never been one for following the rules, after all.

Beneath This Scar | M

“Are you willing to stay by his side knowing what he truly is?”

Précis: It was supposed to be a story written only in fairytales, and somehow, you were destined to live it.

Note: Inspired by the movie Wolf Children, totally different from this fic tho, so no need to worry. this was supposed to be 3k what happened-

Genre & Warnings: Angsty, alotta fluff, mentions of blood, death & implied smut. | Words ➳ 10.3k


To you, he was something you would have never known could actually exist.

He was as mysterious as they would come, holding his pencil in a way so elegant that you didn’t know was possible, the look of boredom sprouting through his features as he scrunched his nose in concentration; ears twitching while he tried to draw something perfect and pleasing to his eyes. You watched him sketch with such wonder in your irises, and even though you wondered how he could draw while ignoring the professor speak and try to teach his students about the basic wonders of the world — you hadn’t known that whilst watching the boy draw, you were also in a little world of your own and not paying attention yourself.

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anonymous asked:

Dan and Phil are roommates in college, Dan's horny and has been begging Phil all day to fuck him and make him cum and Phil finally caves when Dan starts jerking off in the shower while he's trying to do his homework so he puts on a cock ring and fucks dan until he passes out(aftercare too) and they don't go to their first class the next day cuz they're too tired lol overstimulation, cockslut!dan, choking and hairpulling

I also added a weeeeeny bit of daddy!kink and gave Dan a tongue piercing because why not? If you have trouble getting past the cut on mobile open in your browser!

When Phil first meets his university roommate, he knows he’s hit the jackpot. The boy who’s sitting on one of the single beds introduces himself as Dan, and suddenly Phil isn’t quite so regretful over his decision to live in one of the cramped one-room suites on campus, rather than paying extra for the more spacious dorms down the road. Dan is gorgeous, to say the least. He has these pretty brown eyes surrounded by fans of long lashes and lovely, dark locks that feather out against his face. His smile is so bright it might not even be an issue that there’s only one tiny window in the cinderblock room and that the lightbulb screwed into the cracked ceiling is basically useless.  He’s classically beautiful – but that isn’t necessarily what makes Phil decide he needs to have him within the first three seconds of knowing him. It’s more likely that every fibre in this boys’ being screams twink. From the way he’s dressed, in skin tight black jeans and a deep plunging V-neck that’s probably two sizes too small, to the way he spreads his long body across the small bed like he’s there for a centrefold shoot. Phil’s staring at his pouty, full bottom lip wondering what it’d look like wrapped around his cock when Dan – on habit, or perhaps something else – pushes the silver ball of his tongue piercing out and gently grips it between his teeth, before retracting it back into his mouth. It’s then that Phil’s want becomes more of a need.

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Sweater Weather

Jughead x Reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Request: Can you do an imagine where Jughead breaks up with the reader and she doesn’t go  to school for a couple of days and when she returns she’s a mess wearing joggers and something of Jugheads.

Warnings: none/fluff/possible swearing

Summary: Based on the Neighbourhood Sweater Weather, Jughead breaks the readers heart, she’s a mess and when he sees what he’s done he realises it was a mistake.

Originally posted by juptern

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anonymous asked:

*Whispers* will we ever get a lost keith update?

alright my dudes, here’s the 4th and final part of lost keef :) 

(i really hope this format is ok… this is my first time mixing texts and actual fic-style writing so i hope it makes sense and flows ok!)

part 1!!  |   part 2!!   |   part 3!!

Lance’s phone toppled to the floor of the cockpit as he sprinted for the exit. Fiery adrenaline coursed through his veins and his heartbeat pounded in his ears - a steady thrum of “Keith, Keith, Keith”. He rounded corner after corner, firing his rifle blindly and taking out galra drones left and right before finally (and impatiently) arriving at his destination.

As his weapon fired one last blast into the lock, he swung open the door and was surprised to find Keith sitting unceremoniously in the middle of the room. Darkness surrounded him and he was tied down, but when his eyes met Lance’s, a handful of emotions flooded his expression; shock, fear, hope, dread, each one seamlessly right after the other.

“Lance!” Keith cried, the shackles on his wrists clanked as they stopped him from reaching out. “Oh god, please leave… Lotor will -”

Lance wordlessly stomped across the room and planted his feet on either side of Keith’s before protectively holding the red paladin’s face between his hands. Bruises painted the pale skin of Keith’s face and he flinched when Lance reached out to him. He looked so… different. Lance could’ve gone his whole life without seeing Keith look as frail and defenseless as he did then.

“Forget about him, alright? I’m getting you out of here.”

“Y-you found me…” Keith stuttered out, leaning carefully into Lance’s touch.

“Of course I did, Mullet.” Lance smirked before shifting forward and pressing a possessive kiss into Keith’s forehead, “I love you. I’m saving you.”

A small smile played across Keith’s lips and Lance’s heart fluttered at the thought of getting his teammate back to safety in the castle ship. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling back and brushing a gentle thumb across a pale cheekbone but just when he started to forget where they were and why, Keith’s dark eyes darted past Lance’s gaze and fear replaced all the positive emotions the blue paladin had managed to coax out.

“Say cheese,” The shutter of an iPhone camera clicked, accompanying a sickeningly smooth voice that Lance knew belonged to Lotor without even looking. He turned and stood instantly, trying his best to shield Keith’s body with his own.

Remembering that his helmet was still functional, Lance jumped at the opportunity to alert the others as to where they were (which in hindsight he should’ve done right away but he’d yell at himself for that later).

“Guys! I found Keith! We’re in the room past the –” Lance’s words jolted to an involuntary stop and his teeth rattled in his head at the unexpected impact. When had he fallen to the floor? It had all happened so fast. He spat out blood and looked up to see Lotor standing above him, fists drawn.

“You really think I’d let you finish that sentence?” Lotor laughed, smirking evilly down at the blue paladin. Lance hated making eye contact with him, especially when he’d finally had the privilege of seeing Keith again; he never wanted to look at anyone else. His eyes avoided his aggressor’s gaze and darted up to his teammate instead.

Keith’s face was contorted in pure fear - something Lance had never witnessed before and never wanted to again. This was Keith, for god’s sake. Strong, stubborn, fearless Keith; the red paladin, known for always charging into dangerous situations without a second thought because he was crazy and hotheaded and lacked foresight. The memory of that Keith filled Lance’s entire being and fueled him to push forward. 

He sprung off the ground with newfound determination and managed to pin the unsuspecting Lotor down on his back. Lance hovered above him, glaring angrily down at the galran prince. 

“It’s quite pathetic, really,” Lotor began with a smile before Lance could get out any of the furious words his mouth considered, “He was so passionate and tenacious when he first arrived… But I showed him your messages everyday and he lost determination rather quickly.”

Lance’s arms were busy holding the prince down, so the rage that consumed him had nowhere else to escape but through a powerful headbutt (that he regretted almost instantly). He saw stars.

“Lance!” Keith screamed, but Lotor was already up off the ground and stalking across the room in Keith’s direction. Keith tried his best to avoid looking at Lotor; he’d learned over the last few weeks that that was the best course of action when trying to avoid making the prince angry.

Lotor reached out a hand and gripped the red paladin’s throat roughly, cutting off Keith’s breathing as quickly as he could. Keith trained his eyes on Lance, hoping that if he didn’t make it, at least he’d die looking at the person he loved. The edges of his vision darkened and he stayed silent - he knew Lotor was saying something to him, but he ignored him and kept watching Lance.

He would be okay as long as he could see Lance, and in that moment he could.

He saw Lance sit up. He saw Lance reach for his blaster. He saw Lance aim and he saw Lotor fall to the ground. The last thing he saw before slipping into unconsciousness was Lance running to his side.

~

When Keith fell out of the healing pod, the first thing he saw was Lance. 

Lance caught him and smiled down at him with that sparkly smile he used to use exclusively on pretty girls while crooning things like “Hellooo gorgeous, the name’s Lance”  and snapping finger guns in their direction. Keith chuckled at the memory and smiled back, earning a bright red blush from Lance.

“Thank you, L-” But the blue paladin wasn’t nearly patient enough to let him finish. His lips found Keith’s and didn’t let go until they both gasped for air. 

When they pulled apart, the other members of their team had long since left the room to give them more privacy and the smile shared between them was equal parts unsteady and elated. 

“Thank you for saving me,” Lance whispered into the dark hair above Keith’s ear. The red paladin jumped back in reply and quirked a confused eyebrow in Lance’s direction.

“B-but… You saved me…?”

“You have no idea how many times I almost gave up… Or how close I was to believing the others when they insisted you must be dead, Keith. I couldn’t eat or sleep or… anything. When you texted me back, you saved me. You brought me back and gave me a reason to fight again… So, thank you.”

Keith forced out a small laugh to cover the emotion stuck in his throat; he threaded his fingers into the hair at the base of Lance’s neck and pulled him in for another kiss. He stopped just before their lips met and looked directly into Lance’s deep blue eyes with a genuine smile.

 “You’re welcome.”

Bluebells

Summary: Dan just really wants to put flowers in Phil’s hair.
Word Count: 2,498
Warnings: none
A/N: Hello! I’ve had this image in my head of Phil with flowers in his hair for like 2 months straight and obv i needed to write about it since I can’t do art. This whole fic is basically just me gushing about how beautiful Phil is and I’m not even ashamed. See art for this fic here, here, here, here, and here

listen to my audiofic!
read it on ao3

-

There is a boy that makes Dan yearn to weave flowers into his hair every time he sees him. There is a boy with pale skin as white as snow and pretty blue eyes the colour of Bluebells. He has hair like the night sky and it sometimes glimmered in the light to form little galaxies. He wanted to thread Baby’s Breath through those pretty raven locks until his hair matches the colour of his eyes.

It was an addiction, an anomaly, something that does not normally cross Dan’s mind. Usually, he doesn’t see someone and want to thread flowers through their hair. Usually, he doesn’t think about flowers at all.

But then he saw him and he couldn’t stop himself from going home and studying the names of flowers that reminded Dan of him. Hyacinths and Marigold and Sweet Peas and Lavender, all melding into one to make the most beautiful man Dan had ever laid eyes on.

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Milkshakes

Originally posted by ihclipse

Two requests in one. This is hot. Please enjoy, and try to keep yourself calm ;) Love you all. xx - L

You and Harry are friends with benefits.

Warnings: smut, smut, and smut

Word Count: 2,125

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Nicknames (Bucky Barnes x Reader) One Shot

A/N: Hey guys! So I wrote this lil short thingy that I’ve been thinking about for a while and I couldn’t stop laughing the entire time lmao! I hope y'all like it! ENJOY! -Delilah ❤❤

Nicknames: Reader tells the team of her cute lil nickname for a certain super soldier. 

Warnings: Sex (M/F). That’s pretty much it. 

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GREY AREA. (M) | 01

And just like that, your fate was sealed - because Min Yoongi was absolutely going to destroy you. But hell if you weren’t going to let him, or bask happily in the flames as he did so.

And sadly, at the time, you didn’t think that your thoughts would become so literal.

“and maybe sometimes we shout the things we never want to say, and whisper to ourselves all the things which our hearts want to hear.” - ma.c.a

pairing: min yoongi x reader 
warnings: mature, heavy angst
genre: soulmate!au, slowburn
words: 4,444
chapter index



And it starts like this:


You’re standing in a party that one of the college fraternities is throwing, music blaring through a pair of speakers so loudly, that the voice of the singer comes out in a buzz. You feel your heart jump with the rhythm leaking into the room. You’re standing in the foyer of the large house, the room filled with too many people to be considered comfortable, bodies bump into you every few seconds, but you can’t find it within you to care.


You watch and laugh as Hoseok, one of your friend’s, does a keg stand. Two boys you don’t recognize, and you’re sure neither Hoseok or Taehyung do either, holding each one of his legs upwards. A number of people have huddled around to cheer him on, screaming out a chorus of, “Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!”


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The Ink of My Heart

Summary: Prompt 51 for @rotisserierogers ‘s writing challenge: A tattoo artist gives clients tattoos that determine their fate 

Pairing: Tattoo Artist/Alchemist!Bucky x Reader 

Word Count: 2824 Words

Warnings: Fluff, angst in the form of physical pain and being scared

Notes: This is pretty cute, but I’m so sleepy that I dunno anymore ahaha, sorry this is late Kumi!

Permanent Tags are OPEN | masterlist

Originally posted by winter-barnes

“Nattie, I’m fucking terrified. Is this even legal?” You’re gripping her hand so tight that you’re sure that you’re crushing her bones.

She gives you a withering look, before pulling up her sleeve. “It works, every time, guaranteed. Look at mine. Perfectly passive, and it’s gotten me my dream job and boyfriend.”

Your eyes linger over the highly detailed tattoo on her bicep, before looking back up at her. “You sure that this guy won’t use his…tattoo powers to murder me?”

She snorts, leaning against the brick wall. “He’s not allowed to do that, he doesn’t know what he’s casting but they can’t involve death or illness. Well…maybe illness, but there’ll be a good outcome. He sort of has a selection of objects, and you choose them, and they’re meant to influence your tattoo’s meaning. People don’t know what they’re getting, but in the end, it’ll be something that they’ve wanted for a while.”

“Do you know how sketchy that sounds?” You cross your arms, heart running wild with panic and oh shit this is a horrible idea isn’t it-

“Shut up, you’ll be fine,” Nat snatches your hand and marches you towards the door of the building, “you can’t miss your designated appointment, he stores his magic up for each client.”

“So what is he? A wizard? Like, from Harry Potter?” The bell tinkles as you enter the waiting room area. You take a brief look around, taking in the modern interior, with succulents on benches and plant pots dangling from the ceilings. There’s nothing ‘magic’ to this, what with fluffy blankets on the arms of the sofas, and industrial light bulbs casting a glow over the room.

“I’d prefer the word ‘alchemist,’ but you can call me a wizard if you want.” A voice says behind you, and you shriek, whipping around instantly.

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