were soaring

anonymous asked:

Hey, dumb American question here. Every UK person I have ever met hates Margaret Thatcher. Why? What terrible thing did she do to piss off that many people for so long?

Where do I fucking start?

So, Thatcher was the bane of the working classes, and much of what she did still has repercussions to this day. So, in no particular order, just in the order I remember them, here are some things she did that pissed us off - 

• In 1989 she introduced this thing called the “Community Charge” but which everyone calls the “Poll Tax” which replaced an older system in which your tax payment was based on the rental value of your home. This new tax meant that people living in one bedroom flats would pay the same as a billionaire living in a mansion. Obviously, the rich loved it, everyone else… not so much. So there were riots (video of news about the riots) - There were lots of riots in the Thatcher years, and they were all notable for the extreme levels of police brutality.

(photo, poll tax protest in Trafalgar Square, 1990)

• Then there was her war on industry. There was a lot of inflation when she came to power, so she instituted anti-inflationary measures. All well and good… except not the way she did it. She closed many government controlled industries, most famously steel and coal. The amount spent on public industries dropped by 38% under Thatcher. The coal miners went on strike, for almost a year, but in the end, the pits were still closed, and 64,000 people lost their jobs. Unemployment rates soared in industrial areas, and inequality between these (generally northern or welsh) areas and the rest of the UK is still there. During the strike there were numerous violent clashes with the police at picket lines which were widely televised. As a memoir from one miner attests: “ I saw a police officer with a fire extinguisher in his hand, bashing a lad in the back. I tried to get closer to note down the officer’s number but they were wearing black boilersuits with no numbers. The next thing I knew, a police officer struck me from behind. I was coming in and out of consciousness as I was dragged across the road into an alleyway. They blocked off the alley and beat another lad and me with sticks until I was unconscious.” (I can’t post the whole thing it’s too long, but read it in the Guardian) Images such as this swept the country, turning many people against Thatcher -

And after it was all over people felt Thatcher had lied, saying she wanted to close only 20 pits, when in the end, 75 were closed down.

• Inequality soared whilst she was prime minister. There is a thing called the gini coefficient, it is the most common method of measuring inequality. Under gini, a score of one would be a completely unequal society; zero would be completely equal. Britain’s gini score went up from 0.253 to 0.339 by the time Thatcher resigned.

• During her time as prime minister the notorious ‘Section 28′ was published. It stated: A local authority shall not (a) intentionally promote homosexuality or publish material with the intention of promoting homosexuality; (b) promote the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship. - Section 28 wasn’t repealed until 2003.

• She introduced the Right To Buy scheme, which allowed people to buy their council houses for a very low price, which, at first glance, seems like a great idea, allowing people who normally wouldn’t be able to afford their own home to have one - however, loads of people have entered the scheme and now we have far too little social housing, meaning there has been a sharp rise in homelessness.

• The Battle of the Beanfield was a clash between hippies and police near Stonehenge in 1985. 1300 police officers converged on a convoy of 600 new age travellers who were heading to Stonehenge to set up a free festival in violation of a high court order. Again, there was an insane amount of police brutality, and 16 travellers were hospitalised, 573 people were arrested (one of the biggest mass arrests in UK history) - “Pregnant women were clubbed with truncheons, as were those holding babies. The journalist Nick Davies, then working for The Observer, saw the violence. ‘They were like flies around rotten meat,’ he wrote, ‘and there was no question of trying to make a lawful arrest. They crawled all over, truncheons flailing, hitting anybody they could reach. It was extremely violent and very sickening.’” (source) - Once everyone was arrested, the empty vehicles, which were in many cases the only homes the travellers had “were then systematically smashed to pieces and several were set on fire. Seven healthy dogs belonging to the Travellers were put down by officers from the RSPCA.” (source same as above)

Most of the charges were dismissed in court after Lord Cardigan, who had tagged along with them to see what would happen, testified on behalf of the travellers against the police. 

• Her removal of Irish dissidents right to be placed in a category that essentially made them political prisoners instead of merely criminals led to a hunger strike that ended in 10 deaths, including that of Bobby Sands, who was elected from his prison cell, reflecting the immense national, and international support for Irish nationalists. Thatchers lack of sympathy, or even empathy led to her becoming even more of a hate figure.

• She presided over a rapid deregulation of the banks, which ultimately led to much of the problems during britains 2007-2012 financial crash many years later.

• She took free milk from school children, which, though not as serious as anything else listed here, directly affected every child in the UK and was very unpopular, leading her to get the nickname “Maggie Thatcher, Milk Snatcher”, which is still used today.

• Oh… and she supported Apartheid and called Mandela a terrorist.

This is nowhere near everything she’s done that pisses people off, but I hope it goes some way to explaining why when she died “ding dong the witch is dead” became number one in the UK charts, people partied in the streets, and people protested her (State funded) funeral. She is a decisive figure, some people in the UK do actually love her. I do not. She decimated the UK’s industrial heartland, she caused mass unemployment and the destruction of much of working class culture, she was cavalier in her financial policies and increased inequality by staggering levels, she approved serious police brutality and attempted to destroy the culture of unions in this country.  I fundamentally disagree with all she stood for and it angers me that her mistakes are still affecting this country and the people who live in it. And I am VERY angry that the current government are spending £50 million on a museum about her.

3

c'mon // panic! at the disco + fun.

Opening Night (Lin-Manuel x Reader)

HAHAHA WOW OKAY

so here’s this story, i’m not going to put a “read more” option, because the last two times i’ve done that, it’s derped really hard, so you’re just going to have to scroll, sorry. also sorry for mistakes, i’ve been writing this for like 5 hours straight i’m pretty out of it

Prompt: “I don’t want to do this, not without her”

Pairing: Lin Manuel Miranda x reader

Warnings: A little bit sad at one point, terrible cliches

Word Count: 3,260 (hahaha sorry)


Three years before opening night

The usually quiet coffee shop was incredibly crowded, and you sighed before getting in line, reluctant to trade the comfort of familiarity for a shorter wait somewhere else might offer. So you waited and paid for the drink, pocketing your change while your eyes skimmed the tables and rested on a small, empty one in the corner. Once you were settled and had your laptop in front of you, you began to relax.

New York was very different than where you were from. The soaring buildings and chaotic streets made you nervous at first, but after a few months, they were oddly comforting, and you often found yourself smiling for no particular reason as you would weave your way through the crowded sidewalks on the way to school and work. You were a secretary for a large company, and although the job was simple and enjoyable enough, it was only to help you finish your degree in music. You’d been searching for a more practical career your entire life, but it had been last year when it hit you that everything you did led back to music anyways, so why not pursue it? So here you were in New York–lost and confused with very few friends and not a lot of money, but for what felt like the first time since graduating high school, you were living.

You looked up from your laptop as someone cleared their throat. A dark-haired man was standing in front of you, a coffee in his hands and a smile on his face. “Do you mind if I sit here? I promise I won’t be much bother.”

“No problem. It’s pretty crowded today.” You pulled your bag onto your side of the table and out of the stranger’s way.

As he settled, he pulled a laptop from his bag and placed it on the table across from yours. “My name’s Lin.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you offered, a smile slipping onto your face as you bit your tongue and turned back to you work. If there was one thing you’d learned about New Yorkers, it was that they were usually in some sort of rush, and rarely in the mood to talk while in public.

You continued to work in silence until your coffee was gone, and even then you stayed. For some reason, you couldn’t make yourself get up and walk away from this man. So you kept stealing glances any chance you got. Whenever you almost worked up the willpower to leave, his eyes would squint in concentration, or he would chuckle to himself, or bite his lip, and you’d be glued to the seat once again.

It had been almost an hour of watching him and pretending to work when he finally spoke. “Sorry, don’t want to interrupt, but can you think of anything that rhymes with ‘satisfied’?”

His question caught you off guard. “Uh… Cyanide?”

Lin’s eyes shot up to meet yours and a laugh escaped his lips. “That’s great, but I don’t think it quite fits with the story.”

“So what is the story?” you challenged, determined to help him find a word that fit.

He looked back down at his screen. “You really don’t want me to get started.”

“I have all day,” you lied, thinking of the things you needed to do.

His expression was hesitant and a little bit defensive as he began to talk. “Well, I’m writing a musical about Alexander Hamilton.”

You blinked. “Like, the founding father?”

“That’s the one.”

“You’re kidding!”

A silent sort of determination burned in his eyes. “I’m not, actually.” He withdrew into himself and started typing again.

“I want to hear this.” Once again, his eyes were on yours and you smiled. “C’mon, I’m getting a degree in music. I want to see how you’ve done this.”

“Well, it’s not finished yet…”

“Oh, that’s fine, just let me listen.” You pulled your chair up next to his, and one demo and a few explanations later, you knew this was going to be incredible.

You stayed in that coffee shop for three hours that day, talking and rhyming and learning more about Alexander Hamilton. Lin was like no one you’d ever met before. He was so passionate about this project, all hurried words and wild hand gestures, and he carried with him a steadfast will to see this project come to fruition. You fell in love with the lyrics he so carefully wrote, with the blueprint of this concept he so eagerly showed you. Hamilton took root in your heart then, and you knew you’d never be able to pull it out.

Eventually though, you had to pay attention to the clock you’d been shamefully ignoring. “Lin, I really need to leave now. But I want to hear more about this! I want to be there the night it opens on Broadway.”

He smiled, thankful for your support. “I’ll save you a seat. Front row.”

“Promise?” you asked as you finished typing your number into his phone.

“As long as you promise to come once you realize how ridiculous the whole idea is.”

You smirked, pulling your bag onto your shoulder and pushing your chair back under the table. “It’s a deal.”

One year before opening night

“Come on, Lin. You need to finish this!” You snatched his phone from his hands as he yelled indignantly.

“Hey! I need to respond to that!”

“No, you need to work, I’ve got it.” Of course he was on Twitter. So you typed a tweet for him, informing everyone that he would be taking a break to actually get some work done… for once. You spent a few minutes scrolling through his feed, laughing softly every now and then, until you felt Lin’s looking at you, a ridiculous pout on his face.

“Why do you get to have fun while I’m over here slaving away?”

“Shh, I’m trying to read.” When he kept his gaze locked on you, you sighed. “Pick up your pen, and start writing.”

Lin groaned and put his head on his dining room table. “It’s too cold in here to work!”

“Then turn down the AC.”

“But I’m trying to write. I think you should do it.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed your seat back from his table as Lin seemed to be struck with an idea he quickly wrote down. After grabbing a blanket out of his room and adjusting the temperature, you came back to find that Lin had migrated to the couch where he sat with his feet up on the coffee table, writing something in a notebook.

Before you had a chance to sit down, he said, “Oh, and I think I’ll need some hot chocolate, too.”

“It’s summer, Lin.”

“Do you want me to finish this musical or not? I need hot chocolate!”

You threw the blanket at him, but one warm drink later, you found yourself dozing off by his side while he hummed softly. You weren’t concerned–you’d fallen asleep on his couch and vice versa plenty of times. Right before you slipped out of consciousness, he looked at his notebook and sang a line so quietly you almost missed it. “Pick up a pen, start writing.”

Your eyes opened a tiny crack, the faintest hint of a smile on your face before you fell asleep.

Lin watched you for a few moments until your breathing became steady and slow. “You know, (Y/N), I think I love you.”

He kissed your forehead and tucked in the blanket around you, smiling as he turned off the light. What did he ever do to deserve you?

Six months before opening night

“Why don’t you find an actual date instead?”

Lin groaned. “Not this again. C’mon, (Y/N), I just really want to see this movie!”

“That’s what you said about the last one.” You didn’t move out of your doorway, not yet willing to let Lin inside.

“But this one is going to be really good! Please! I’ve been looking forward to it since last year!”

“Yet you still couldn’t manage to find a date.” You pulled the door open the rest of the way and allowed him to walk inside. You weren’t ever actually going to turn him away, but he wasn’t off the hook yet. “Why don’t you ever date? Plenty of girls are interested in you.”

He followed you to your bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub as you started getting ready. “I don’t want to date any of those girls. Besides, I…” He hesitated, and your hand stilled, the mascara halfway to your eyelashes. “I’m practically dating Hamilton by this point. Why don’t you ever date?”

Touché.

“Shh, you ask too many questions. I’ve only got one shot at this eyeliner, so don’t distract me!”

When you finished your makeup, Lin was waiting by the door, holding out your shoes to you and practically bouncing up and down with excitement.

You smiled. “Let’s go.”

He kissed your cheek. “You’re the best!”

A chuckle. “I know.”

One month before opening night

Lin walked with you to the theater, rambling on about how excited he was for you to see what his coffee shop writings were turning into. You finally had the day off work, and your degree in music could wait for a few more hours while Lin showed you what his entire world had become.

He introduced you to the guard at the door, to an orchestra member practicing backstage, to someone on a ladder that was fixing the lights. A smile stayed glued to his face as he led you through the building, talking to everyone and making sure they knew who you were. You’d met so many people by the time you reached the dressing rooms that you lost any hope of remembering names.

Lin knocked on the open door of a dressing room, catching the attention of the people inside. “Pippa, Jas, Renée, this is (Y/N).”

They smiled and hugged you while Lin launched into a conversation about their roles in the play, and the costume changes, and the character development. Their laughs were infectious, and you quickly found you enjoyed talking to them. Twenty minutes later, the five of you were sitting on various pieces of furniture, lost in conversation, when the man you recognized as Chris knocked on the door frame.

“Lin, we need you for a minute.” He turned to the girls. “And then we’re running Helpless and Satisfied at 10. You’re welcome to watch, (Y/N).”

Once Lin was gone, the girls turned back to you. “He never stops talking about you,” Phillipa said. “It’s a little bit scary, honestly.”

A laugh bubbled out of your mouth. “Probably because he never sees anyone else. He’s been working on this for so long that I think he’s forgotten what life is like without it. I’m just so glad that it’s finally happening, and that you’re the one playing Eliza. Before he met you, he spent a good month trying to convince me to do it.”

“And why didn’t you?” Renée asked.

“He heard me sing.” That brought a round of laughter before you continued. “No, I’ve just always wanted to compose a film score, and it would probably be best to not get caught up in acting right before I get my degree.”

“But you’re at least coming opening night, right?” Jasmine questioned.

The memory of your promise from years ago hit you hard, and pride swelled up inside you. “I’ll be right in the front row. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

One week before opening night

You stood in your living room and stared at the letter in your hands, already starting to feel nauseous.

Please inform us immediately if you will be present in Los Angeles on August 6 to begin working. We are sorry again for the short notice.

This was it, this was your chance. You had been offered a job to work with some incredible composers on a score for a new movie. You’d fought for your entire life to get to this point. But you still felt sick and your ears were ringing.

The sixth of August.

That was opening night.

You couldn’t stop looking at the paper, everything else around it having gone blurry.

A hand on your shoulder caused you to jump and spin around only to come face to face with Lin.

“Sorry,” he started. “I didn’t knock but… Oh, are you okay?’

You didn’t realize you were crying until his hand reached up to brush away a tear. Stepping backwards, you shook your head, a sob forcing its way up your throat. Lin tried to reach for your hand, but you pulled it back and held out the letter to him instead. He carefully took the paper and started to read, not saying a word until he finished the entire thing.

“(Y/N), you know you have to go.”

You fell onto your couch, and Lin was beside you in an instant, pulling you into a tight hug.

“It’s opening night,” you whimpered.

He ran his hand up and down your back. “I know, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I promised, Lin,” you mumbled into his shoulder. “I want to be there!” You looked up into his eyes to find him tearing up.

“I know you do, and I want you to be there, too. But… You can’t miss this opportunity, (Y/N) this is what you want. Go. I’ll help you pack if you need it.”

So you started packing, and when Lin finally left for rehearsals, you broke down on the bathroom floor and cried another ocean.

Part of you was thankful that Lin was supportive and helping you make the right decision. The other part wanted him to beg you to stay, so you could see him opening night, so you wouldn’t have to leave him.

You would have to leave him.

The thought froze you completely. Lin had been such a huge part of your life for the last three years. You didn’t even know who you were without him. He was the best friend you’d ever had, and even though he had to put up with all of your crap, he stuck around.

What did you ever do to deserve him?

Two days before opening night

You clung to Lin, trying not to cry again but ultimately failing. He was practically crushing you with his hug, buried in your shoulder and sniffling quietly. When he finally released you, he grabbed your hands, his eyes red. “Good luck,” he whispered, his words somehow louder than all of the airport.

“Thank you.” You squeezed his hands one last time before finally letting him go and grabbing your suitcase. It was heavier than it should have been. You were maybe fifteen steps away when you heard him shout.

“(Y/N)!”

You turned and met his eyes.

Ask me to stay. Please, Lin, I can’t leave you, I don’t know how to live without you. Ask me to stay!

A pause.

“Do not throw away your shot!”

A nod. A smile. And then you left him.

Opening night

Lin was trying to button up his shirt, but his hands were shaking too much, and he jumped when he heard Renée’s voice behind him.

“Almost ready?”

“I… yeah, these buttons just–”

She crossed the room and buttoned them quickly, pulling him into a quick hug. “Relax,” she said. “Everything will go fine. We’ve practiced this, remember?”

“I know, I’m just nervous, I guess. And I… “ he stopped himself, but quickly decided it wouldn’t hurt to express his feelings to Renée. “I wish (Y/N) was here,” he confided.

“Me too.” Renée led him towards the stage as they got their five-minute call. “You have no idea how proud she is of you, Lin.”

He shook his head. “This isn’t right. I don’t want to do this, not without her.”

“I know you don’t. But I don’t think she’d want you to throw away your shot, so get out there and perform, and then let her know how you feel.”

Renée was right. He’d perform for you tonight, even though you weren’t there. Still, he checked one final time to see if the seat on the front row was still empty.

It was.

Lin took a deep breath. This is for (Y/N), he thought.

Opening night

You realized you loved him halfway through the plane ride back to New York, and you just hoped he felt the same way about you, because you were going to tell him the first chance you got. When you stepped off the plane, you hit the ground running. You didn’t stop until you were in a taxi headed for the theater. Pulling your phone out, you opened your messages with him to let him know you’d be there, fingers hovering the keyboard. No. You weren’t going to tell him. It would be a surprise.

You payed the taxi driver and thanked him profusely while you dragged your suitcase out of the car. When you arrived at the theater door, you realized the guard there was the same one you met on your first day at the theater, and many times since.

He smiled at you and reached into his pocket. “Lin told me to give you this if you showed up,” he told you, holding a slip of paper towards you and opening the door. “I can take care of your suitcase, too.”

You laughed, trading the ticket for your luggage. “Thank you!”

Instead of looking at the ticket, you headed straight for the front row and plopped down in the only empty seat left just as the music started.

You’d seen the show in rehearsals, but this was just unreal. The energy and emotion everyone put into the acting was incredible. The opening number was going smoothly, and you leaned back into your seat, bursting with pride.

Lin didn’t see you until halfway through My Shot. But when his eyes skimmed over the audience, he did a double take, focusing back in on you. The whole process took less than half a second, but afterwards, Lin stood a little taller and sang a little louder.

You loved him.

When the play was over, a security guard came to find you and escort you backstage. You made your way towards his dressing room, but before you could get anywhere close, Lin was flying around the corner and running towards you.

He kissed you without giving either of you a chance to talk. He hadn’t slowed down from his run, so he backed you into the wall and held you there, clutching your waist desperately and pressing his lips to yours like you were keeping him alive. He pulled away with a gasp.

“I love you,” you said in unison, and you melted in his fierce hug.

“(Y/N), you are so, so stupid!” he said. “Why would you come back?”

Tears were in your eyes as you laughed. “It was a typo, Lin.” You smiled up at him. “The letter. It was supposed to say August sixteenth, not August sixth.”

His jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not, actually. Besides, there’s no way I could live on the other side of the country without you knowing that I love you.”

By this time, the rest of the cast was swarming the room, and they cheered when you kissed again, neither of you acknowledging the need to breathe for a long time.


(Thanks for your support of whatever this turned into lol)

Love Struck

Sidon/Reader
Summary: Reader is afflicted with emotions they yet to comprehend. An unlikely advocate helps the reader with their issues. 
Word count: 1866


There was no way to ignore this feeling, it felt like you were soaring, but being pulled under water at the same time. Harebrained, finger tips always tingling, throat dryer then the Gerudo Desert, and with knees so wobbly you were afraid one step would do you in, it sometimes it felt like you had too much air, but also never enough. There were days you found yourself in a haze, eyes glazed over. Other times, your heart pounded so deep it you couldn’t tell if you were ascending, or about to die of a heart attack.

Keep reading

become the sun.

drabble: lightning era

word count: 933

the sundown series. night three.

there were many things harry wanted to leave behind, after the war. there were so many times when his heart would just plummet at the sight of an object, robbed of its use.

there were too many things that would cause of rush of tears with just a second look.

because the war took its toll on the wizards and witches, and most fled away without batting an eyelash.

but the ones who stayed didn’t really stay because too many things had changed and home wasn’t really home anymore.

a look at ron would remind harry of the countless times his best friend had risked his life for him, back to the days of being eleven again— and the feeling of being eleven never really left harry. the undeniable emotion of loneliness crept in and somehow harry felt like he had lost everything even when he knew he had nothing in the first place. and some days ron would offer a sandwich or a cup of tea to his best friend while in their months of being twenty, and all of a sudden there’s this pain in ron’s chest because everything was all the same when too much had been stolen from him.

a look at hermione would remind ron of how everyone had fought through their battles and found a shed of light along the way, just enough to reach the end of their journey. he wondered what guided fred into that light— what had held fred with that much love; enough for him to get away? but hermione was there to comfort him, to slowly mend the broken pieces of his heart with just the touch of her fingers. the times when hermione laced her hands into ron’s felt like being seventeen again; the butterflies in her stomach that had never left. and she, too felt like everything was all the same when too much had been stolen from her.

a look at harry would remind hermione of how some warriors fought in battles they never wanted; the battles what were etched upon their skin and engraved in their bones. how everything happened for a reason, and how a butterfly from long ago could cause a hurricane, a hurricane strong enough to drown out even the brightest of stars. and one day hermione passed by draco malfoy, and even she wondered if the gods above liked to play cruel games with the mortals below. but draco held his head up high, his stride fast and paced; this burning sensation constantly gnawing away at his arms, the eagerness to run far, far away from here. he decided when the glares were too harsh and the whispers were too loud that everything was all the same when too much had been stolen from him.

a look at neville would remind draco of how good things come to those who believed, believed in the people they loved and believed in the good causes they fought for. a look at neville would create this underlying feeling of envy and cold-blooded emptiness because draco too, could have had that but he had no way out. but he did. he took the coward’s way out. he accepted his fate, when neville fought and fought and finally he received what he deserved. and on any other day when draco passed by any other young man with unruly, windswept jet-black hair, he felt his heart leap out of his throat, because he wished he could turn-back time and go back. go back to where it all started, and change everything. because he knew, he too deserved redemption.

a look at draco would remind luna of how the moon rises, just to reflect the sun’s light. luna relived the past, over and over, wishing eternally that she could have done something more; more to help out her friends she knew were hurting so much on the inside. the times when her eyes would glaze over the thestrals, her eyes darkening when she sees the other students flinch for the first time because she too, understood. but finally she realized that somethings were meant to be, that the gods were telling them something when draco apologized, when hermione forgave, when ron stepped up, when neville held out his hand, when harry had this unforgettable look in his eyes as the sun fell below the horizon, his hands reaching out towards the light, finally free of whatever held him back.

a look at luna would remind neville to continue being fascinated in the wonders of the world, the ways of the people and the emotions of the unwanted. how everyone could get better and become even stronger through hardships and a lending hand from another friend. because like luna said, the gods were telling the mortals something. that whatever happened throughout their journey carved another road to their destination, uncovering another brilliance they would have never discovered otherwise. and neville wanted to thank the gods, he wanted everyone to realize that everything happened for a reason because it was meant to be.

what was meant to be is what created you, meaning that the stardust in your veins shined a radiance unbeknownst to you because you were chasing sun; soaring in vibrancy, constantly. and the sun was just a giant star, and soon you will be too, with the rest of the world chasing you.

and neville wished that everyone knew that.

because he too, knew that even though everything was almost stolen from him, the ones who stayed behind were the ones who mattered the most. and right now, he was just a star, glowing faintly. but one day, one day he believed that he will grow powerful and become incandescent, enough to become the sun of all of the stars and be chased.

Helpless (Tim Drake x Reader)

A/N: I wanted to write this so badly you literally don’t understand. I had the idea to base a fic off this song and was trying to decide which batboy. There’s a line in the song that’s goes “I’m trying not to cry because there’s nothing your mind can’t do” and so I chose Tim! This fic is based on the song “Helpless” from Hamilton. Maybe listen to it as you read? Idk, your choice. Also you have a sister in this because lyrics said so. This is such trash and I’m sorry.
Warnings: None
Tagging: @solis200213 @pinkwitch21 @tigeragathe @gokusanfan @just-a-girl-maybe @queen-of-all-the-fandoms @holywinchesterness @battybe-my-writing

It was a hot summer night, and the night of another Wayne Gala.

People were chattering, dancing and generally having a good time all around you. You had come with your parents and sister, more mandatory than voluntary.

You smiled to yourself as your sister charmed everyone in the room with a dazzling smile and an infectious laugh.

Center spotlight had never been your thing, and you much preferred to watch your sister gracefully waltz across the floor.

You glanced away from the crowd, to the doorway where people were still trickling in.

You swore your heart skipped a beat. A boy about your age entered, his black hair styled nearly, his blue eyes piercing and captivating.

You weren’t one to fawn over strangers, really, you weren’t. But something about him sent butterflies through your stomach. You felt like you were flying, just looking at him.

He stood at the opposite side of the ballroom, and you tried to catch his eye from across the shifting waves of dancers.

For just a second your eyes met and if you felt like you were flying before, now you were soaring, far above the clouds. The band was playing loudly in the background, but you hardly noticed. You didn’t realize that you were smiling, lost in his eyes until he looked away with a slight smirk.

“What’s this? Found someone interesting?” A voice came from behind you, and you felt a gentle touch on your forearm.

You turned and saw your sister, smirking at you encouragingly.

“Maybe,” you said, one side of your mouth turning up in a half smile. “I think this one’s mine.”

Your sister nodded and made her way across the ballroom. Too late you realized she was headed directly for him. She took the young man by the arm gently.

What was she doing? No, no, no! So much for that.

Your sister started to pull him off somewhere, and you could feel your nerves building as you watched them go.

Then he looked back at you, and suddenly the flying feeling was back and you were helpless.

“Where are you taking me?” Tim asked your sister skeptically, allowing her to guide him by the arm around the sides of the ballroom.

“I’m about to change your life,” she said, smirking to herself.

“By all means, lead the way,” Tim replied, still slightly skeptical.

You wanted to slap yourself for ever doubting your sister’s intentions once you saw her leading him over to you.

You felt happiness flutter up your chest as your eyes met with his once again.

He and your sister reached you and she gave you an encouraging nudge on the arm.

“(Y/N) (L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said, introducing yourself.

“(L/N)?” he asked, looking over to your sister.

“My sister,” she replied.

He nodded and turned back to you. “(Y/N), did you say? Lovely name. I’m Timothy Drake,” he said shaking your hand.

“I’ll leave you to it,” your sister said before making her way back out to the dance floor.

It had hardly been a week since the gala and you were constantly messaging and talking to him. The flying feeling had yet to fade.

That wonderful feeling really never did go away. Every time you looked that boy in the eye it was like the sky was the limit.

Almost a year later, Tim stood in your dining room, casually talking with other guests at a party your family was hosting.

You were nervous. Tim had asked your father for his blessing earlier that night, and your father had yet to give his answer.

You felt pride and joy swell in your heart as you watched Tim confidently charm your guests. You swore you could have cried tears of joy right then and there. There was nothing his mind couldn’t do. And this boy was yours.

Once Tim had separated himself from the group of party guests your father made his way across the room.

You started to panic. What if he said no? You could feel your heart begin to sink at all the possibilities, but your father shook his hand and suddenly Tim was giving you this big goofy smile and you were soaring again.

He came over to you, still smiling, and those dazzling blue eyes locked with yours.

You were sitting in Tim’s room, curled into his side in comfortable silence.

“(Y/N)?” Tim asked, shifting so that he could look at you.

“Yeah?” you answered glancing over at him.

“Listen. Just, listen. I’ve wanted to say this for a while. You and your family bring out a different side of me. You make me feel like I really belong somewhere, you know?” Tim had begun to run his hands through your hair.

“You belong with Bruce too, though. You belong with Batman,” you asserted gently.

“Of course I do, but when I was a kid, my parents weren’t around. Even once Bruce adopted me, I never had what I could call a normal, functional family. Once we’re married we can get a place in Gotham, and we’ll figure it out. I’m just so excited about all of this. I’ve been living without a normal family for so long. I swear, I’ll make sure you never feel as helpless as I did.”

You looked up at him, and met with those beautiful blue eyes. You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

As it happens, you would be feeling that same flying feeling on the day of your wedding.

When it came to Tim, you were helpless.

E is for Extreme

Contribution for the ABC’s of Simon @simons-thirst-squad  I had so much fun writing this!  

Warnings:  Smutty, smut smut smut.  Dub-Con, walkers, BDSMish, Spanking, Cuffs, 

Pairing:  Simon/OFC 

Tags: @arkhamasylumpatient-blog1, @blondesouthsquad, @enchantingoblivion, @alyisdead, @dead-head-joker, @miiraal, @theonethatgotaway213, @marauderice, @kellyn1604, @megandrawsspace, @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers, @shanaatjelove11, @daintyunicorn, @mac5323

               A powerful hand grips your shoulder, guiding you through the darkness.  He is right behind you, almost pushing you forward.  You debate on sprinting out of his grasp, but with the blindfold on you would likely run straight into a tree.  Even though your hands aren’t tied he would stop you if you tried to free your eyes and the split second it would take to pull the damn thing down would give him the leverage to catch you again.  You sighed in frustration.

               “Getting upset already?” Simon’s voice made your inner ear tingle.  

               You stumble and his squeezes harder on your shoulder.  There is no doubt it will leave a bruise.  

               “Don’t worry baby, we’re almost there.”  His voice has a bit of playfulness in it, which makes you whimper.  “Those sounds you make are music to my ears.”

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Nowhere To Run

Originally posted by supernaturally-wwe-imagines

Summary: The reader runs into the Winchesters on a hunt but something seems wrong with them…

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 6,300ish 

Warnings: language, kidnapping

A/N: This fic was supposed to be short…whoops…

A/N #2: Just a reminder, this is a work of fiction, not real life folks. If forgiving someone for doing something bad rubs you the wrong way, I would encourage you to skip…


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thesherchronicles  asked:

Good evening. Can you please translate this? It would help me a lot. يوم اقلبت .. صوت لها جرحي القديم .. يوم اقبلت طرنا لها انا وشوفي والنسيم .. وعيونها عين المحتني وشهقت ... وعين حضنت عيني وبكت

Well this is a very famous poem .. that was sung by Mohammed Abdu  

There is a true story behind the poem . 

The shortest version I can give you is :

That the poet “فايق عبدالجليل"  as a young man fell in love with a girl .. unfortunately the girl he fell in love with left the country .. Since the poet was in love and was suffering his friend suggested that he should get married ..

Years later on his wedding night he saw the girl he loved sitting there along with everyone that was invited to his wedding .. 

 يوم اقلبت ..صوت لها جرحي القديم ..

When she passed by my old wounds cried back at her .. 


يوم اقبلت طرنا لها انا وشوقي والنسيم

When she passed by .. The breeze .. My longing .. and I were soaring ..

وعيونها آه عين إلمحتني وشهقت

And her eyes .. OH her eyes !! one saw me and gasped .. 


وعين إحضنت عيني وبكت

The other held my own eyes and wept .. 

ويا فرحتي ؛ الحظ الليله كريم 

Oh Joy !! tonight my luck is generous .. 

محبوبتي معزومه من ضمن المعازيم

My beloved .. is one of the guests .. 

**MOST HEARTBREAKING POEM EVER </3 

Damian Wayne/Robin X Reader- Don’t Fall Asleep

This is the next part for Trust Is Easily Shattered (Damian’s Cat Is Not A Cat).  ENJOY!!  


You let out a scream as your assailant started to drag you to the door of Selina’s apartment, cutting off your air supply by tightening his hand that was around your neck.  Your hands clawed at his arm as he removed his hand from your mouth and grasped the doorknob.  

“SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!” you sobbed and continued to claw at the man, making him hiss in pain and throw you across the room.

You scurried off of the ground and jumped through the window, breaking the glass with your body weight.  When you landed on the fire escape, you quickly started climbing up to the roof, hoping that the rooftops would allow an easy getaway from the man.  Short, shallow breaths escaped from your mouth as you traveled up the building, somehow managing to not let tears fall from your eyes.  Once you reached the top of the apartment building, you broke out in a sprint to the North side of the building.  You didn’t even bother to look behind you when you heard a bunch of profanities come from the man that attacked you, knowing that it would just distract and slow you down.  Luckily the man was slower than you, allowing you to gain a significant head start.  You jumped from rooftop to rooftop, mentally thanking your increased stamina that let you run for this long.  When you landed on another building, you took a risk and looked back in the man’s direction.  He was at least three rooftops away from you.  You sighed and looked at the setting sun, hoping that the approaching darkness would provide enough cover for you to escape Gotham.  

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Library Time - Revamped

Author: MelBelle45

Author Notes: Revamped to make it better. I also included my very first aesthetic. This fic is based off of the two Jensen pics. Beta’d by the ever lovely @avasmommy224

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Warnings: Smut (oral: both; smutty, smut, smut)

Word Count: 1,879

Summary: You’ve always wanted to try out the library. With Sam not home, here’s your chance.

~~~~~

“That was one hell of a wedding,” you said, throwing your black clutch purse on the bed before undoing your strand of pearls. You toed off your red heels by the door to the room you shared with Dean. You inhaled the bunker scent – a bit of metal, a bit of old books, a bit of leather and dampness. A very manly smell, but a smell that was home to you and calmed you instantly.

“Literally,” you heard Dean in the kitchen and headed that way. “It’s not every day Crowley gets married…and we were invited.” You rounded the corner to find him, tux jacket still on, tie loosened just enough to unbutton the top two buttons of the crisp, white shirt. He had a small glass tumbler in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other.

“Champagne not enough for you?” you smirked, leaning on the island in front of him. You noticed his eyes rested on the ample cleavage you bore with your position. Your black dress was low cut, but leaning on the island simply made his view even better. There was a burning in those green eyes that always put that familiar wanting in your stomach. He glanced away only to pour the amber liquid into the glass, the smell of aged alcohol filling the air around you.

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Strawberry

Part three of the Miraculous x Hunter series created by @emthimofnight, featuring a prickly Killua (secretly Chat Noir) being saved by Ladybug (secretly Gon), who is determined to protect his best friend no matter what, even if said best friend doesn’t want his protection!

All parts of this series will be put up on my ao3 soon, and there will be more drabbles to come! I wasn’t joking when I said me and emthimofnight were talking about this au nonstop haha XD

Word count: 2067

Other Miraculous x Hunter links: 

GonNoir mirror drabble, Killugon ballroom scene drabble

Fanart by @emthimofnight that started this whole thing


Killua really hadn’t planned on spending his free afternoon running away from the Mayor’s akumatized daughter- but, well. That’s just the kind of thing he’d gotten semi-used to since becoming Chat Noir.

“KILLUA ZOLDYCK!” came the horrible ear-piercing wail. The sound made Killua want to cover his ears as he pelted down the cobbled street but he resisted. He had to find a place to transform as soon as possible, or else that girl would terrorize the entire city-

“COME BACK HERE AT ONCE!!!!” 

“Why don’t you try and make me, huh?!” he hollered over his shoulder and smirked at the shriek of rage that echoed off crooked rooftops and looming skyscrapers.

He didn’t have anything against the Mayor’s daughter, really. She was a pretty but shy girl whose parents- along with Killua’s own mother and father- were adamant on setting her up with Killua. 

And that was about as likely to happen as Killua giving up on chocolate.

THUMP.

The pavement shook underneath his feet and he nearly stumbled. Shit. He couldn’t afford to lose his footing now; if he did, he would be caught by the newest akuma victim before he could change into Chat Noir.

Civilians screamed and pushed him to the side in their attempt to get away from the chaos unfolding behind them. Killua did his best to duck around them while simultaneously peering down alleyways, searching for a hidden place to transform.

He cursed under his breath. None of these would work. Not as long as people were still running around in masses like this-

A sharp, sizzling noise filled the air. Nearby buildings took on a greenish hue and Killua’s hair stood on end.

“WATCH OUT!”

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Tickled Pink-Newt Scamander x Metamorphmagus!Reader

Request: Can u write a newt x Metamorphmagus!reader? The reader is friends with Tina and Queenie and they visit the reader with newt at her place where she takes care of animals that are abandoned (magical and nonmagical) and he is smitten with her.
A/n: I enjoyed writing this one, Update: Part two is already up (link at the bottom) :)
Warnings: none ^-^

Newt readjusted his coat and sat his case handle in his hand as he absorbed the surroundings. The air was crisp and had a sweet scent to it, most likely as a result from the myriad of flower bushes that sprang up around everywhere. A small home that looked quite finished and modern for the time stood in front of him, and vines laced with more flowers climbed their way up the sides of it. It appeared neat and elegant, simple yet bursting with life.

Today he had tagged along with his friends Tina and Queenie Goldstein to visit and have tea with you at your home. He hadn’t heard much about you, but from what he did hear, he assumed that you was a nice person.

“Queenie did you remember the pie?” asked Tina.

“Of course I did. You worry too much,” replied Queenie with a slight skip in her step and a smile.

The three had walked up to the door and knocked to alert you that they were here. Newt stood back on his heels and closely admired the flowers that had strewn off from the balcony above them. He turned his attention back towards the door when the lock started to unclick, and there at the door stood an old woman wrapped in what appeared to be a long scarf. Newt wasn’t sure what to expect of you, but he definitely expected you to be, well, a bit younger. Suddenly, the appearance began to shift. The creased wrinkles disappeared and frayed silver hair turned back to a silky (hair color). The years began to melt away, almost as if you were standing in a portal that was taking you back decades in time. When you finished, the appearance of an old woman was long gone, and a younger excited version of yourself stood in the doorframe. Newt stared in awe, for you looked radiant and beautiful.

“Queenie! Tina! You came!” you shouted as you engulfed them into a hug. You hadn’t seen them since you visited them last summer, and you wished you could spend more time together. When you all let go, Queenie went over to pull Newt by his coat sleeve towards you.

“Honey, this is our friend Newt, the one we wrote to you about,” announced Queenie, “And he’s like you!”

Newt shyly blushed and extended his hand towards you before introducing himself, “Yes, I’m Newt, Newt Scamander.”

You blushed as well answering, “Y/n Y/l/n. Sorry about that little appearance change there, the old lady look cut the suspicions of the No-Majs” before your hair became a faint pink color out of nervousness. Newt watched the sudden change not with disgust, but with infatuation and curiosity. You noticed his expression and laughed a little.

“I’m a metamorphmagus, my hair does that a lot actually, haha.”

The two of you released your hands and Newt couldn’t deny that there was a tiny tingle.

While you were leading them inside, Newt looked back at Queenie to whisper.

“Queenie, what makes her like me? What is it that-,” but he didn’t get to finish his as he was fascinated not by what was inside of your house, but who was inside.

The table that had been prepared for tea was occupied by a few pixies that were helping set up a few more cups and sugar, and in one of the chairs rested a sleeping Kneazle. In one of the adjacent rooms, a small group of dogs and cats played with strings and napped next to the fireplace mantle. Newt continued to stare in awe as a snowy owl swooped through the window and then perched itself of a coat rack.

“I hope you don’t find this weird.”

Newt jumped slightly, since he didn’t know that someone else was in the room as Tina and Queenie had went off elsewhere. You had appeared behind where he was standing.

“None of them had homes so I let them stay here. That’s why I try to not draw attention from the No Majs, because some of the creatures are magical and they wouldn’t understand,” you spoke as your hair mixed into an embarrassed shade of pink with a saddened blue hue. Newt didn’t want you to feel ashamed at all for what you had done, for what you did was incredible.

“Of course it’s not weird, it’s amazing!”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

Newt began to blush a bit more as the two of you locked eyes again. He hadn’t even known you for more than fifteen minutes, yet he was infatuated with you. Your beauty was illuminating and alluring, but your personality and care for creatures, whether they were magical or not, was what he was most attracted to.

“How did you find all of them?” he asked as pixie had come to rest on his finger.

“Well, some of them, like the cats, would always come by for food so I let them stay a bit. Marian here,” you paused and gestured to the snowy owl who was now picking his feathers before continuing with your explanation, “He had a broken wing from a raging storm. Now he’s like my little mail carrier. Oh and this here is Finnic.” You stopped once more in order to open your pocket to allow a tiny little bowtruckle crawl out and onto your hand. “I found him when the other Bowtruckles out back in the tree were taken by smugglers. Apparently they wanted them for picking locks or something. They weren’t too happy when I hexed them.”

“The bowtruckles?”

“No the smugglers. I had to handle it myself since MACUSA is really against magical creatures for some reason.”

Newt’s heart was heating up and bursting. He had never met anyone quite as amazing as you. Your heart was that of pure gold and your defiance towards MACUSA in order to protect the creatures made his heart soar. You were different, but different and incredible. He wanted to know more about you, he wanted to know your story. He hadn’t felt like this in years and often doubted that he would ever again. Yet you had proven him wrong and started to steal his heart without even knowing it yourself yet.

You had all sat down to talk over tea and it went extremely well. Everything was delicious and sweet, and the room was filled with chatting about everything from Newt’s work to why Tina was so lenient with you keeping creatures (apparently she wasn’t aware that you were keeping magical beasts until recently, but her mindset had changed). He had also kept making awkward glances at you, but he couldn’t help it. There was something about you that kept drawing him in, like a Niffler to a gold coin.

You were fascinated by Newt’s interest in the creatures and the fact that his briefcase was full of them. He wanted to show you right then and there, but he and the sisters had to go, much to his dismay. He had helped you tidy up before goodbyes were exchanged.

After hugging Tina and Queenie, and promising to write and visit soon, you hugged Newt. His hug was firm yet still soft and inviting, which was strange for someone you had only just met. Newt took in your flowery scent and blushed when you let go. Your hair was still a radiant mix of the salmon pink color, and no matter how much you wanted to hide it, you were nervous and slightly attracted to the Magizoologist.

“It was lovely meeting you,” he said as he looked down at your hands. They were smaller and more delicate than his, and he just wanted to hold them in his own.

“You too, you can come visit whenever, plus you have to show me that case of yours next time.”

“Yes, the creatures would love to meet some new friends,” he smiled, a spark of happiness emerging in his eye.

“Are you busy next week?” you asked, and feared risking your new relationship with the friendly man. You weren’t going to ask him, like what if he was already in a relationship? Or maybe he didn’t want a relationship. You were so confused at your sudden feelings.

Newt frantically replied while caught off guard, “N-Not at all, I um, I’ll write to you, to keep in touch until then of course.”

“I’d like that, Newt.” You smiled at him while he furiously blushed. He nodded in a farewell as he turned to go back with the Goldsteins, but before he did, you placed a small kiss onto his heated cheek.
When Newt was back with the sisters, he could hardly keep himself steady, for his heart felt full and heavy. His eyes had an affectionate gaze, and Queenie just laughed at him.

“Well Honey, those are some interesting ideas about Y/n,” she giggled.

Newt’s cheeks turned crimson, but Queenie wasn’t wrong about his thoughts. He just couldn’t seem to get you out of his head.

Part 2:

http://unscriptedtimetraveler.tumblr.com/post/157163369391/tickled-pink-part-two-newt-scamander-x

Masterlist: http://unscriptedtimetraveler.tumblr.com/post/156427727241/masterlist-thing

when you first came back into my life
it was a lot like riding a bike
after you hadn’t for a while
because at first
everything was wobbly
  unsteady
we were both unsure
a little afraid
and part of me just wanted to call it quits
but
as time went on
everything started to feel stable yet again
and we fell into a familiar routine
where it felt like we had never fallen out to begin wtih
and we were able to soar together once again

it just goes to show
no matter how long it’s been
we still find a way to make it seem like no time has passed at all.
—  Anonymous said: Anything for a friend you’ve got together with after a falling apart for a few months?
(cc, 2017)
A Moment in Time (Lin x reader)

Words: 1,216

Author’s Note: So this is the first in my new drabble series based on a prompt list! Each part will be based on a set of randomly chosen prompts and will feature a specific moment in their lives. Everyone blame @chuckisgod for the idea and inspiration and @hamlltvn for the prompt list <3


#360: You had me at ‘free pizza’.

#223: Let me buy you a drink?

Part I: When I Met You

“Oh. Oh god. Please tell me I did not just throw my entire bag of stuff on Lin-Manuel Miranda.”

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For the exterior shots of Gatsby’s estate in The Great Gatsby (2013) the former St. Patrick’s Seminary in Sydney was used, ‘with faux ivy applied to the first two floors and a temporary fountain constructed in the courtyard. In postproduction, soaring turrets were added digitally’.

Flying high

AN: Cedric Diggory has always been a close friend of yours but, as you get older, your feelings start to change and it takes a moment of pure frustration for you to realize.
Characters: Cedric Diggory, Cho Chang, Minerva McGonagall
Pairings: Cedric X reader
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Request: “pls do a Cedric Figgory from hp X reader where they play a match and they lose and Cho comforts him and the reader gets jealous.”

———–

You swung your bat, knocking the bludger as hard as you could towards the Slytherin chaser who was currently zooming towards your goal posts. Rain blurred your vision and gale-like winds buffeted you from side-to-side, making it difficult for you to keep a firm grip on your broom’s handle.

As the bludger found its mark, you whooped in victory, the wind carrying your voice away from you almost as soon as the noise left your lips. You leant forward, moving closer to the action, keeping a careful eye out for any opportunities to help your teammates.

“Y/N!” Someone called over the roar of the wind, “Are you okay?”

Your best friend Cedric Diggory flew up beside you, his face contorted behind his goggles into a look of concern. You nodded and gave him a thumbs up before pointing to the sky, urging him to keep looking for the snitch. As he rose above you, you heard the deafening roar of the Slytherin supporters, and the booming voice of Lee Jordan announcing that the Slytherins had scored once again.

Your heart sank. So far, you’d been playing for three hours already, the weather making it nearly impossible for either team’s seeker’s to locate the golden snitch. Both teams were exhausted and toeing the line between muscles aching and hypothermia . Slytherin was leading the match 430 – 300 and, for your team to have any chance at all of winning, Cedric needed to find the snitch, and fast.

Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t what happened. After another twenty minutes of half hearted playing, Draco Malfoy swooped down and caught the snitch, the Slytherins bellowing their support as the disappointed cries of the Hufflepuffs tainted the air.

You looked for Cedric, who was gazing forlornly at Draco, and tried not to be mad at him for not being quick enough. After all, he never held it against you when you screwed up, you reminded yourself.

Even so, you couldn’t help but slam your locker door shut in the changing rooms, pressing your forehead against the cool metal as burning hot frustration ran through you. Three hours! Three hours you’d battled all the rain and the wind. You knew you’d played well and to have all your hard work go up in smoke like that? Well, needless to say it stung.

As captain, Cedric had to talk to the team after the game and, unsurprisingly, he took full responsibility for the failure, blaming everything short of the weather on his own lack of dedication. For some reason, as you watched his sculpted face morph with sincere regret and apology, you felt your irritation grow.

You and Cedric had been best friends since you were tiny, growing up side by side in houses that were right next door to each other. Every morning you would come over when your parents left for work have breakfast at his house, then the two of you would play together and have lessons with his mom, and then, in the evening, Cedric would come to your house for dinner. On special days, he would sleep over, the two of you building pillow forts and battling each other for the title of Ruler of Pillowland. Cedric usually let you win. For your whole life you’d been inseparable, neither one of you ever imagining a time in which you’d be apart.

When he’d gone off to Hogwarts for the first time, you’d been crushed. Neither of you could fathom being apart for that long. You remembered sitting on his bed after he’d told you in total silence, trying to picture a life without Cedric and had felt yourself start to cry. At the time, it had felt like the world was crumbling around you and, as you’d said goodbye to him on the train’s platform a few weeks later and he’d sworn to write to you every week, you just nodded, sure that you were going to lose him forever.
Always a man of his word though, Cedric had kept his promise and had written to you not once but twice, sometimes even three times a week for the whole time he was at school and, by the time it was your turn to get on the Hogwarts Express with him the following year, you were closer than ever.

Hogwarts, for you, had been like slipping into a new pair of shoes, and you’d become pretty popular in your grade not too long after your arrival. At first, everything was new and scary, and you’d clung to Cedric for support as you’d always done and he’d been more than happy to take you under his wing. As time had passed though, you didn’t spend quite as much time together as you’d used to, making different friends and devoting yourselves to your respective studies. You were still each other’s best friends, no one could ever change that but, you weren’t each other’s entire world anymore, and you thought that that was a good thing.

In your fourth year, Cedric had told you that he loved you and your world had changed forever. Part of you had been shocked, but mostly you’d just been terrified and, even though you’d known for a few years already that your feelings for Cedric were stronger than plutonic friendship, the two of you had decided that it would be best for you to just stay friends. You had a good thing going and you didn’t want to ruin it.

Deep down, you knew that you owed everything to Cedric. He’d always been there for you, hell, you’d learned to fly together and now it was your favorite thing to do in the world. You could tell that, as you’d grown, your relationship had changed; instead of playing tag in Cedric’s garden, you chased one another around the quidditch pitch on your brooms; instead of making mud pies, you sat and read together and; instead of planning your wedding and making each other wedding rings out of twigs and grass, you bit your tongue and tried to smile whenever someone new came into the other person’s life. You cared about Cedric more than anyone else in the world, so why on earth were you so irritated with him right now?

As your team filed out of the locker room you packed your gear into your locker and felt rather than saw Cedric waiting, fidgeting nervously as though he were trying to say something.
“Well?” You snapped, more harshly than you’d intended to, “You obviously have something to say, so say it.”

Cedric flinched at your tone, but nodded, “Y/N I’m sorry, I really screwed up on the pitch today, and I know you trained really hard and you wanted to win and-“

“Oh my God stop!” You interrupted angrily, “Stop Ced, it wasn’t just you. We all played our hardest and we lost. It’s as simple as that okay? Just let it go!”

You stormed out of the locker room, leaving Cedric stunned behind you, looking more wounded than you cared to know. You were being irrational, you knew you were and, as you walked across the ground and into the castle, you reprimanded yourself in your mind.
Fueled by your anger, you found yourself in an empty classroom and channeled all your irritation into your magic, transfiguring chairs and tables into paper birds that flapped around the room. A swirling tornado of feelings was bubbling up in your stomach and you blinked back tears of anger and frustration.

“AAAHHHH!” You screamed into the empty air, slamming your palms against the wall and sliding down to rest your head on your knees.

“Miss Y/L/N.” A firm voice started, “Would you care to explain why the contents of my classroom is currently learning to fly in formation?”

Your head shot up and you quickly stood, embarrassed by being caught in such a vulnerable position by your favorite teacher.

“Professor McGonagall I-um,” you started, “I’m sorry, I’ll put everything right I promise.”

McGonagall waved your promise away and came further into her classroom, her hands folded in front of her.

“It’s excellent work,” McGonagall commented, gesturing to the flock of paper birds that were soaring above her head, “inspired really, what I’m wondering is what brought on this particular fit of late afternoon magic.”

To be continued…