what was this about the world may never ever know *mysterious noises*

Harry Potter can’t sleep (and neither can Draco Malfoy)

prompt: pillow covers (thanks @miniemcgee)

Fuck this, Harry thinks, listening to the rustle of Malfoy’s sheets as the insufferable git rolls over for what has to be the fifth time in as many minutes. And fuck McGonagall for assigning Draco Malfoy, of all people, to be his roommate. No wait, Harry immediately takes this back. Even in his internal monologue he isn’t comfortable disrespecting McGonagall.

Still Malfoy is a nightmare to dorm with. Merlin, Harry would much rather be having a nightmare – at least then he’d actually be sleeping! Malfoy tosses and turns all night. He gets up and visits the bathroom two-three times every night. What, does he have a bladder the size of a peanut? It’s ridiculous.

All Harry wants is to sleep. All Malfoy seems to do every night is make as much noise as possible. Harry mentions it to Ron once at breakfast. Even though all the eight years have been given new shared “houseless” dorms, thankfully they’re still allowed to sit at their house tables. Harry is incredibly grateful for this. It’s bad enough staying awake all night listening to Malfoy, he’d hate to have to put up with him in the daylight as well.

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Ron asks.

“He makes noises, Ron, in his bed. All night!” Harry explains, desperate for someone to understand his frustration. It’s constant, night after night. Rustle rustle rustle.

Ron looks at Harry like he’s lost his mind, a faint blush on his cheeks. Harry doesn’t bring it up again.

Draco is tired. So very tired. He can’t remember ever not feeling tired. It’s been so long since he’s been able to really sleep. At least two years, maybe more. Probably more. He thought things would change after the Battle of Hogwarts. That Voldemort’s death would give him peace. But it hasn’t. Nothing seems to. He doubts anything ever will.

Every night it’s the same. He lies in bed desperately willing himself to sleep, for his body to give in and relax. But the relaxation never comes. Sure he gets bits of rest here and there but it’s always fleeting, never enough. The morning takes a lifetime to arrive and yet, somehow, it’s always too soon.

Tonight he studies late in the library. He pushes himself to remain for as long as possible. What’s the point in going to bed anyway? Finally the exhaustion becomes too much for him and he heads back to the dorm, all the while knowing the exhaustion isn’t enough to grant him sleep. It never is.

His dorm is dark. Potter must already be in bed. He is surprised by how early all the eighth years go to bed. In Slytherin lights out was always well after midnight. Unfortunately, not many others from Slytherin have returned to Hogwarts to back him up on this. So everyone seems to retire by 10pm every night.

He stumbles around the dark room, trying to be quiet, his arm reaching out in front of him searching for his bed pole to grasp, while his eyes adjust. There. Using the bed post as a guide, he lets himself fall into bed.

Ah. His body crumples inwards, pleased. It takes all Draco’s determination to keep his body upright throughout the day when all he wants to do is collapse. His body craves for sleep all day and then when he finally gets to bed, nothing. Yet another restless night.

Except today something feels different. His pillow is softer somehow, his blanket warmer. There’s something else too.  A strong, commanding scent he’s never noticed before. He breathes in deeply and lets it wash over him. Grapefruit. Honey. Ginger. It’s comforting. And familiar. He takes another breath. And another. His eyes close.

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[The ~feel~ of statistics majors at Elsewhere U has changed somewhat since I sent you that ask (dangerous was perhaps the wrong word), but here’s an extended piece about them that is totally not also a love letter to my chosen subject]

Science majors are always treated more warily by the gentry. This is both a blessing and a curse; we’re less likely to be fucked with, except perhaps out of spite, but it also leaves the greatest mystery we’ve ever seen out of our reach.

It’s tough, being a truth-seeker.

Every department has its own inclinations when it comes to attempts to study Them. Brave physics majors strap bodged-together chronal stabilisers to their arms and go spelunking in those places that time bends unnaturally, reeling back out days or weeks or months later sobbing unintelligibly about relativity. The smart chemistry majors favour esoteric methods of detecting Them, importing enough hazardous substances that it’s surprising none of them are on terrorist watch lists; we try and avoid the choking fumes of their labs and darkrooms if possible. Biologists tend to keep to themselves and be blacklisted in turn; nobody’s attempted to gather samples from Them since the chrysanthemum incident, and the tensions are manageable. Maths is essentially arcane to Them, too logical to make any sense, and more than one student has traded their way out of a tight spot with a neatly penned proof of Euler’s formula.

As at every other university, statistics majors get overlooked. It’s hardly a surprise; it’s the kinds of subject that you either do for a lack of a better idea (and the alleged “amazing job security”) or because you really love statistics. Students in the department because of the former are usually fine, having no particular drive to hunt out knowledge beyond the mundanities of coursework. That cadre of us, though, who take what the lecturers give us and turn it on our environment? Well, I’d call us the most successful informal research group in the university.

Don’t look so surprised! Statistics is the science of observation and patterning. Not only to we know how to analyse for a trend, we know how to tell whether there’s a kernel of truth in it or if it’s just noise; the deceptions of a regression with p = 0.07  are not too different to some of the misdirections of the gentry. Provided you’re smart about data collection (RIP Tumblr user no-this-is-a-knife), there’s not a lot They can do to screw with you as long as you keep everything digital and speak softly. Walking the line between observing Them and alerting Them to your intentions is very possible as long as you’re canny about it. Interestingly, the proportion of Slytherin students in the department is greater than you would expect from a subject so knowledge-oriented.

There are some great projects being run in our downtime. Demography of the gentry would be both a fool’s errand and a slow death, but there’s plenty you can do by surveying the human population or simply watching common areas. That’s what I’m working on, actually; we’re using some of the chem students’ detection techniques to investigate the distribution of the gentry around the campus. Early results are confirming the rumours that arts students are most likely to run into Them. There’s other projects as well, of course, like the two students who’ve cracked the university’s database of missing persons reports and are analysing it against the year to look for the most dangerous times.

To be clear: we mean no harm by what we do. It’s easy to think of us as a coiled snake in the grass, but I would never dream of using my research against anyone (human or gentry or otherwise). Anyone seeking to fight the gentry is probably better off burying themselves in the mythology stacks anyway; research that could conclusively prove cause and effect is well outside our capabilities. All we’re really about is helping people do what they were already doing, like find somewhere weirdness-free to study for finals.

The official Elsewhere U message boards keep deleting our threads - I’m almost sure it’s foul play at this point, one of the staff They have in Their metaphorical pocket - so we’ve been pushed into informal channels. r/ElsewhereStatistics is a good one-stop-shop for passing students, and our Tumblr network is pretty extensive. It’s important to be able to coordinate, to ask questions; this research methodology isn’t exactly something you can run by the lecturers.

While it’s disheartening to know that this work will never leave the university (statistics journals reject so many regular papers, and there’s no scientific field pertaining to Them that we could publish under like applied statistics groups usually would), it’s worth all the toil and more. On a practical level, we’re helping people; just the other day a sobbing fine arts major grabbed me after class and gave me a thank-you hug for publishing those preliminary maps of gentry activity on campus. She can paint in peace now! How wild is that? Most of us would still do it regardless of the thanks, though. After all, the most praise in the world can’t top the simple euphoria of discovery; there’s nothing like that ephemeral moment after the results come back when you can truly say that you know something no-one else knows.

Well, I’d better be getting back to it; these numbers aren’t gonna crunch themselves. Come visit us down in the computer labs sometime (bring coffee!). And remember: following our will and wind, we may just go where no one’s been.

It’s A Meta Crisis!

Anon: Hi first off I love your writing so much! I was wondering if you could do supernatural story were the reader is obsessed with the show but one day she wakes up in the bunker and she finds out she’s Sam and Dean’s sister but starts to freak out and her ‘brothers’ thinks she may be sick or tries to calm her down. Sorry if that’s confusing <3

Nonnie, I need to apologize for taking so long to get this out, but I hope this was worth the wait. Like always, please message/leave something in my inbox with comments, questions, criticism, if you want to be tagged, etc. Enjoy everyone!

Summary: You are a Sister!Winchester writer and you wake up inside the Bunker one day.

Warnings: None (yes, I know the gif is a typewriter, but it’s hard to find good gifs!)

Tags: @the-third-winchester-warrior @winchesters-favorite-girl @jensen-jarpad @daughters-and-winsisters @lil-sister-winchester

Originally posted by mr-nikolo

“Aaaand, you’re done.” You say the final words of your newly written story aloud as you type them. You wrap your blanket bundle around you a little tighter and click the post button. “All right. You’re up for the whole world to see.” You sigh in relief, happier than ever to get this story out. School is about to start up, something you’re not looking forward to in any way, shape, or form.

You close your laptop slowly. You wish the magic of the holiday break didn’t have to end. The sleeping in, the bliss of not knowing what to do for a whole day, not being sure whether it was Monday or Friday. It was heaven.

You look at the clock. 11:08. Well, if you are going to get any sort of sleep for the early day tomorrow, now was as good a time as any to count sheep. You turn off your light and flop down on your bed. You don’t bother to change clothes or take off your shoes for that matter; you’d be wearing the same outfit to school the next day anyways, so why bother?

You turn your head to look around the sights of your room. A Supernatural poster from season 8 hangs on the far wall. Nearby that, you can see the different ‘hunting’ accessories you had collected over the years, scattered all around your bedroom. Some came from bygone Halloweens, others as holiday and birthday gifts. The old pocketknife with the Men of Letters symbol you carved into the handle, the iron sculpture you pilfered from a garage sale, your stashes of salt and homemade goofer dust, and the leather bag that you used for a hex bag in cosplay. A stack of plaid and flannel shirts sits piled under the poster. You’re particularly proud of the angel blade you had ‘forged’ from moldable plastic beads.

You smile, dreaming about your made up life of being the Winchester’s sister. It’s easier to gain story inspiration through dreaming fanfiction. Oh, the hunts, the magic, the creatures, the excitement, the strong sense of family. Every little aspect about it. Just, Sam, Dean, and you. Against the whole world…

Even before you wake up, you can sense something’s wrong. It’s cold. Colder than your room. You feel around for your blanket to pull up to your face. You freeze.

They’re not yours.

Your eyes open immediately. You sit up cautiously. Did I just get kidnapped? you wonder silently. A dark ceiling and plain walls meet your tired eyes that clearly do not belong to you.

You’re not in your bedroom anymore.

The walls are windowless, an odd bookshelf in the corner. Your eyes scan along the book titles: Mythology and Lore, The Official Book of Exorcisms, Shapeshifters vs. Skinwalkers Vol. 1. The entirety of the bookcase was covered with more scrolls and books like these.

“Okay…little creepy…” You glance around the room, suddenly feeling a sense of either paranoia or excitement. You’re not sure yet. The floor is made not of your soft brown-beige carpet, but a hard floor instead. The most off-putting thing is the smell; it’s a mix of air freshener and dust. Overall, pretty musty. Definitely not the smell of the scented candle at home.

Sounds are pretty much nonexistent. There was always some noise in your home. A passing car on the outside street, siblings arguing in the kitchen over who’s turn it was to use the toaster for Pop-Tarts, or the neighbor’s cat yowling in terror after being chased up a tree by a bullying squirrel.

You peer over the edge of a plain bed. There’s a large wooden chest with leather straps on it. Sort of a trunk really. You’ve never seen this before, but it’s familiar. You abruptly realize you have seen it before.

In your head.

Pieces of everything about this room fly together. The books on the shelf. The floor. The lack of windows and noise. The smell. Waking up in a different bed. Everything is how you’ve imagined it in your stories. You’ve pictured this room in your mind a thousand times, creating different story upon story in this setting.

This is the room you created for the sister of Sam and Dean Winchester.

“That’s not possible…” Only one way for you to be sure. You rub your hands on the top of this mysterious box. If every other detail is right, then this would prove what was going on. Your eyes look down apprehensively, suddenly feeling a series of grooves on the lid of the trunk. You gasp aloud, trying everything to keep from screaming. A six-pointed star is burned into the top of the chest. A Star of Aquarius, better known to you as the symbol for the Men of Letters.

“Just like I wrote.” Your whole body is trembling. Jury’s still out on whether your shaking is from panic or happiness. You look down at yourself. You’re still in the same outfit you fell asleep in: black and white plaid shirt over a black tank top and ripped blue jeans. Your feet are still in the brown faux leather boots from Shopko. You’d tastefully nicknamed them your ‘Winchester Boots’. Little did you know that you’d actually be wearing them in the freaking Bunker.

You slap yourself. Ow. “Okay. Real. Not dreaming. I’m…in…the Bunker.” You turn around in place in a daze. A frightened happy smile stretches across your face. “I’m in the Bunker. The Bunker.”

You take a look at a wooden nightstand. You pull open the drawer cautiously, fearing what might be inside. Inside sits a knife, exactly like your knife in your bedroom. Your other bedroom The not Supernatural one. All the way down to the Men of Letters symbol carved inside. Which makes sense; you’ve based so much of your stories on yourself. Under that sits a small framed but faded photo. You immediately know who it should be, but your curiosity gets the better of you. You gently pick it up.

It’s happy photo of the little baby you sitting on your Dad’s shoulders. Not John Winchester’s shoulders. Your father. Riiight. The sister I created was adopted, not a Winchester by blood, you remind yourself. You stare intently at the picture, recalling the backstory you’d given your Win!sister.

A father turned into an encantado and the mom was a good friend of John Winchester so she teamed up with him in the hunting life. Y/N, became real close to Sam and Dean, helping out with research in her early years and later learning the trade. Teaming up wasn’t a constant thing, but enough to where the boys considered her their sister. John ended up killing Y/N’s dad when he showed up years later. Sam and Dean meeting up became less and less until it stopped completely when Y/N helped Sam get to Stanford. Contact resumed at Roadhouse with Ellen. Her mom died when the Gates of Hell were opened while Y/N was young. She’s been in Sam and Dean’s care since-

You’re cut off by a sudden, yet soft, knocking on the door. “Hey, Y/N.”

You know that mellow voice all too well. You gasp loudly and just barely manage to hold on the to the picture before it can shatter. Standing in front of the door is the freaking giant of a man Sam Winchester.

Originally posted by brothersinsync

He looks at you with mild concern. “You okay? Didn’t mean to scare you.” He finishes with a natural smile. “You didn’t answer your phone. Dean and I just finished one weird case. You’re gonna laugh your head off at this one.”

You back up into the side of bed, still not sure whether to be terrified or bouncing off the walls. You can barely hold onto your voice.



Your eyebrows shoot like rockets towards the ceiling. “Sam??”

“Yeah…that’s me.”

“Sam Winchester??”

Sam steps towards you. “Y/N, is something going on?”

“Sam freaking Winchester. In front of me.” You run your twitchy hands through your hair. “Oh gosh, this is happening. This is real. This-this-i-i-it’s. Holy mother flippin’ Metatron. You’re Sam Winchester.”

Sam smiles unsure with a little laugh in his throat. “Y/N, you’re acting like you’ve never seen me before.”

You start gesturing frantically, as you usually did when you fangirled. “Yes yes yes yes, I know I know I know! This i-i-i-is. This is unbelievable. I mean, you’re right there and I’m right here in this room and-” You abruptly stop and take a look at Sam, who is slowly backing towards the exit. “I’ve gone meta, haven’t I?”

“Uh…Dean!” Sam shouts over his massive shoulder.


The distant reply of another voice you know hits your ears and a dorky grin stretches across your face. “Oh man, Dean’s here too. Oh boy. Oooookay…”

“C’mere for a sec!” Sam gives you a funny look. “Just…stay right here for a minute.”

You sit down on the bed, beyond happy to comply. “Okay!” Your energy level is off the charts.

Sam walks out of the room with a slightly faster pace than you expect. You hear his footsteps recede to where they’re undetectable. You get up off the bed, a whole new strength coursing through you; in your sudden excitement to see the Winchesters, you ignored the fact that not only are you in a different place, but you’re different too. Your body is roughly the same height, maybe a little taller. But you’re extremely fit now. You feel muscles bulging out of your arms, calves, and torso. It’s a whole new thing. You’re still around the same size as you were, but more of a body-builder version rather than a light exerciser.

You run your hands along the slightly bulging muscles in your upper arms. “Cool.” Your eyes sidle to an unopened closet. A new thought hatches in your mind. “I wonder…” You walk over and open the door, adrenaline and adventure filling your energetic body. You smile. Inside, behind the rack of clothing, is the set of weaponry you dreamt of always having. Shotguns and rifles and swords and pistols and ninja stars and salt rounds and-

You lay your eyes on the two weapons you crave the most: the Enochian carved angel blade from your I See Wings series and three sets of throwing knives you imagined: One for demons, one for creatures, one for witches. Each knife set was enchanted with spells you had found in the Bunker, designed with silver or iron or salt.

At least, that’s how you wrote it. You still hope it’s true.

You pry one out from it’s meticulously crafted case. Oh, the glory of holding one of those babies is indescribable. The black leather grip, the smoothness of the knife, the simplistic beauty of the curvature. You never knew how long you waited for this moment. And your new body is just begging you to try the knife out. You curl it back almost daintily, aim and…

Originally posted by twoidjitsinthesalvageyard

Before you can let your blade loose, Dean himself comes striding into your room. He’s on guard instantly when he sees you with the knife. “Woah, Y/N.” He rushes over to your side and grabs your wrist. “If you wanna throw, we’ve got the shooting range, not your room.”

You stare at him in utter shock, that goofy fangirl smile coming back onto your face. “Dean?” you whisper. Your eyes grow wide. “You’re…real…”

Dean knits his eyebrows together. He scoffs and sits you down on the bed by your shoulders. “Course I’m real. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You can see Sam standing in the door, hesitant to come in the room. Your eyes flick rapidly between the two of them. “I’m-I’m really here? This isn’t some sort of…prank or-or joke or…” You look into the Winchester’s eyes, ever growing concern stretching across their faces. “I mean…you’re both real…” you breathe out.

Dean sets your throwing knife on the bed. “Y/N, are you high?” The seriousness in his voice throws you off guard.

“No! No, no, nope!” you yelp. “Definitely not high.” You scan around the room distractedly, trying to ground yourself on something. “Not high…definitely…not…”

“Uh-huh…” Dean clearly doesn’t believe you. He turns to Sam. “And you just found her like this?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what’s going on-”

“What was the last thing that happened to you?” you interrupt. If you can figure out what just happened to the boys, then maybe you can figure out how you got here.

Dean takes a breath. “Well, you wanted to stay and get some research done. We just got back from some weird ass musical about our lives.”

Season 10 episode 5, you immediately think. “So, you’re not a demon anymore and,” you point to Sam, “you just killed Calliope then, right?”

Sam squints at you. “How do you know that?”

“Y/N, what’s going on?” The expression on Dean’s face just melts your poor little fangirl heart. The concern, the honesty. Ugh.

“I…I don’t know. I just woke up here and…” You struggle to find the right words when a lightbulb goes off. You stand up off the bed. “Do you remember when Balthazar zapped you two to an alternate universe?”

Both Sam and Dean groan. “Damn, that was bad,” Dean complains.

“Well, think of this as a reverse one of those.” You grin sheepishly, standing awkwardly in the room as it dawns on the boys. Sam speaks up first.

“You mean…you’re from…”

“Not exactly.” You rub the back of your neck. “My name’s Y/N Y/L/N. I write stories about the show Supernatural. Mostly about if Sam and Dean Winchester had a sister…” you fade out seeing as Dean’s head looks like it’s about to explode.

“Wait, you what??”

“In the show, it’s just…well, you two. But, I began writing my own stories imagining if you two had a sister. And I guess I’m having some kind of meta crisis right now, apparently. I woke up here in the world I created.”

“In the body of our sister.” Dean sounds more hostile towards you than before.

“Not exactly. It’s sort of a reverse Balthazar situation with a bit of Chuck mixed in.”

Sam looks the least freaked out out of everyone in the room. “Okay. So, you wrote about…us and if we had a sister? Why if?”

“In my life or universe or whatever, Y/N Winchester doesn’t exist except in the stories I write.” You take a look at Dean who looks like he could Hulk out on you. You raise your hands defensively. “I based her on me though. So, it’s not like I’m possessing her; I am her. Sort of.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You wrote her so you are her?”

“Pretend you rewrote the Lord of the Rings with you in them. But, you didn’t want to name yourself after you, so you came up with another name. Like…Jim. Then you find yourself in that story you wrote as Jim. But you based Jim off of you so it is you in it’s own way.”

“This is already making my brain sick.” Dean rubs his forehead with the tips of his fingers.

“No, I get it. That makes sense.” You silently thank Sam for saving your bacon.

“The only question is how I got here. I literally went to sleep and woke up here. Nothing different than normal.”

“Okay…if you were writing this, as a story, what would you explain it as?”

You put a hand up to the back of your neck, a habit when you try to concentrate. “Well, if I was writing this, I’d probably be dealing with a spell of some kind, but nothing crazy happened to me last night. So,” you begin to pace, “that leaves me with…oh. Great.” You sigh and purse your lips together.


“Hex bags. I have one in my room.” The Winchesters continue to stare at you. You sigh. “Not a witch, it’s just for cosplay and Halloween. But, I didn’t sweep my room last night. Someone could’ve swapped it out for a real one.”

Dean tips his head up to the ceiling. “I freaking hate witches.”

“Well, it might not be a witch.”

“What do you mean?”

“A witch is only one idea. It might be a tulpa, or a really messed up spirit, or-” You stop, a new idea entering your head. You close your eyes. “Ah, crap.” You raise your hand in a ‘shut-up’ gesture, simply going over to a tv set in the corner of the room and turning it on.

Dean leans forward on the bed. “You gotta kidding me.”

“Perks of writing your own world. You get a pretty good hunch on who did it.” A Casa Erotica scene starts setting up.

Sam points to the screen. “But, he died.”

Originally posted by your-not-invisible-to-me

A very familiar waiter rips off his mustache. “Think again, boys. And girl.” Gabriel pops out through the tv screen landing in front of you and the Winchesters. A weird combination of a smile and an ‘exasperated-parent face’ hits your face. The archangel looks at you. “How do they do it on BBC?” He raises an eyebrow. “Did you miss me?”

We Do What We Do

Rucas Fic Week 2017

Day One: Canon Verse

This takes place not long after GM New World.

Riley has always been an excellent sleeper. Any time, any place, any level of noise…give her two solid minutes with her eyes closed and she can be out like a light.

Usually, anyways.

Her mind has been more restless since eighth grade started. She can’t fall asleep because she can’t stay still. Her thoughts race in her head, bouncing back and forth in every last corner, leading her to toss and turn every night. There are too many changes to process…too many questions to find answers for. There are new classes and friends, new losses to come to terms with…a new Lucas.

It’s a lot.

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Bartender with one hell of a story

Originally posted by thedorktimes

Tony’s parties were always extravagant and seemingly wild. But a secret that you, and most of the other staff working tonight knew, was how meticulously organised the affair was.

7:00 - General party guests arrive.
7:30 - Avengers (assemble) arrive.
-keep track of how many drinks each partygoer consumes.
-any partygoer over 10 drinks is discreetly tested and, if over a predetermined limit, set by Mr Stark, are to be sent home.
11:30 - general party guests transport arrives.
-Avengers relax
-All bartenders leave except finishing bartender (Robert).

I hadn’t been the finishing bartender before and after Robert quit because of his panic attacks (wonder what caused those), I was next in the firing line.

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cherrypikkins  asked:

“You’re hair is really soft after you wash it.” for Dorian and his GREASEBALL AMATUS. 8D


Maedwyn Lavellan x Dorian Pavus.
The Hinterlands, post-Skyhold.
Word Count:

Dorian made him wash his hair.

Dorian Pavus, altus to the Tevinter Imperium, mage and nobleman to boot, made Maedwyn wash his hair.

There was at least one or two ancestors screaming from the grave somewhere, Maedwyn thought dryly as he wrung the last bit of water out of said– well, said admittedly neglected mane of brown hair. To think he of all people would at any point in time take orders from a Tevene, especially about matters as personal as this.

The tragedy was, Maedwyn actually did adore the Tevene in question, and Dorian had made the rather unfair ultimatum of “Either the grease stays or me, amatus. So.

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The One Event Your Story MUST Have

“What if I told you that removing one event from Harry Potter’s life would stop his story from ever happening?”

*intrigued Voldy noises*

Yes, one thing would’ve fixed it all for Voldemort. Just stop one thing from happening, and life would’ve gone back to being great for him. There wouldn’t have been a kid around to stop him from getting that Elixir of Life. He would’ve gotten a body again, maybe one with hair and a nose, and gone back to his favorite hobbies: morning house elf kicking, going down to the pub with his Death Eaters, Avada Kedavra-ing the bartender because he doesn’t serve snake milk, taking over more of the wizarding world every day – all of it. If he’d known about this all-important scene, and had the wherewithal to stop it, he could’ve prevented his life from spiraling into this:

This was a particular low point. Even lower than becoming an evil infant.

Happily for us and Harry, Voldemort never bothered to study the science of story, and obviously wasn’t a writer. Writers know this scene instinctively, and their brains are geared to generate these story events endlessly.

So! What story event holds all this power? An event that can make or break the story? To find out, let’s remove it from some movies and see what happens.

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them:

Kowalski never picks up Newt’s case. In fact, Jacob gets run over by a renegade penny-farthing rider just before he picks it up. Newt grabs his magical suitcase, and continues about his business.

Yup, Jacob gets runs over by this guy.

  And Newt doesn’t even notice. 


Rapunzel asks Gothel if she can go see the floating lights for her birthday. Gothel doesn’t say “You may never ask to leave this tower again.” She instead says, “Sure! Let’s go. Bring a thermos of hazelnut soup for the trip.”

Uh … yum.

Harry Potter:

Voldemort gets a job at the post office and intercepts every Hogwarts letter sent to Harry. He then sabotages every attempt the wizarding world makes to contact Harry. Maybe he even fakes Harry’s death.

And Harry continues his lifetime of frying bacon for Dudley.

So, with these changes, what happens next in these stories?

– Newt finishes his business in New York, and sails back to London.

– Rapunzel goes on a trip, returns to her tower, finds Flynn there, hits him with a frying pan, and he runs for his life.

– Harry never finds out he’s a wizard.

Or in other words, nothing. Nothing happens next. They have ceased to be stories.

How did removing one event stop them from happening?

Because the event we removed was the Catalyst. The inciting incident. The event that triggers CHANGE.

In stories, a catalyst causes things to happen. The hero is always paralyzed in some way in the beginning, their ordinary life stagnant and unchanging. The catalyst introduces change, motion, trouble. Without it, nothing else can happen. Which is why a villain would be really smart to keep his nemesis in that trouble-free life, and prevent any sort of catalyst that could trigger a story.

Oddly, heroes are far more prone to killing catalysts. Some ignore it, refuse to be affected by it, or – worst of all – complain about it. Imagine Harry getting the mysterious letters from no one, but having no desire to read it, simply wishing to keep things as they are. Imagine Newt shrugging when he discovers his case is gone, and saying “Well, I can get other magical creatures” before going back to London. Or Rapunzel being perfectly content to practice ventriloquism and dip candles for the rest of her life. This is why whiny main characters who “just want to be a normal person” or “just want to be happy” are so annoying: they are stopping their own story from happening.

So! This one is super easy. When you’re developing the foundation of your story, ask yourself these things: What event is going to trigger change in my hero’s life? And how will they react?

Overcome (’95 Line Hogwarts AU Foursome Smut) (Part 2/?)

Summary: After one of the most interesting train rides of your Hogwarts career, you receive an unexpected invite to the Gryffindor start of term common room party. And for some stupid reason, you decide to go. But one common room leads you to another, and you and Jeonghan explore your friendship more than you would have ever thought possible. Hogwarts AU. (Light) Smut.

(A/N: so this is hella longer than the last part and i stayed up so late to finish it oops. i’m so going to bed when this is posted. anyway i hope you enjoy the hannie centric part of this it heavily ties into everything else. still looking for suggestions on a title. (the title is here now and it’s liiit son) warnings: heavily implied Meanie (for funsies), gay thoughts, sexual thoughts, mentions of orgies, alcohol use, minors using alcohol, drunk minors, technically minor smut (bc it’s Hogwarts), smut, Jeonghan being sexy, anyway have fun. -Tanisha<3)

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 

Part 2: Confundus 

Jeonghan usually took no interest in the big Hogwarts start ‘o term welcome feast. He couldn’t have cared less about the scared little first years that were being welcomed into the house of Hufflepuff, - especially because he wasn’t a Prefect, and especially because the Hufflepuff first years always seemed so disappointed, and he had to resist the urge to accidentally step on their robes and send them flying, or put a leg locker curse on them, or slip them a Nose Bleed Nougat - the speeches, not only from Headmistress McGonagall, but from other teachers, mostly department heads, who wanted to speak on their subjects, were long and boring, and this was one of few times a year when students were not permitted to wander to their nondenominational house table to sit with their friends. So although the food was plenty and mouth watering, Jeonghan was stuck enjoying it while gazing longing across the room at Joshua and Seungcheol, wishing he could sit with them.  

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Little Bird

A.N - For the Fandom Bingo card spot 2-3; ‘wing fic’.

Everyone is born with wings. This is a simple fact of life, passed down through the generations. Rare are the children born without them, and rarer are the cases of those children living to adulthood, or even past their first birthday. 

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15 saddest Bright Eyes’ songs

”Sooo, I’ve thought about this a lot and I came to a decision. I’m going to list the 15 saddest song Conor has ever written with Bright Eyes. And I’m not mentioning the “ended love” ones, I mean those about life and everything. Of course is my opinion, but I would like to know if you agree or not with me. So, here we go:

1. Lime tree -Cassadaga. 

“So pleased with a daydream, that now living is no good”. 

The songs maybe refers to an abortion, or something like that. The crushing moment it’s when Conor quotes his friend at the phone “It’s done.”

2. Ladder Song-The people’s key.

“No one knows where the ladder goes, you’re gonna lose what you love the most.”

A song about self acceptance, relieve and the mysteries of what life can lead us too.

3. The center of the world - Fevers and mirrors.

“Into the endlessness of blue, into the horror of the truth”

Despite “Fevers and Mirrors” is one of his saddest album, I find this song centered on the topic of loss and death, especially in the part of the carving tombs for remembering all the love we lost and we gained.

4. Approximate Sunlight - The people’s key

“Now you are how you were, when you were real”.

The whole song seems to talk about the world, the wars and how they ended up. The crushing of simple dreams because of mankind’s rage.

5.No lies, just love - Don’t be frighted of turning the page.

“ So please forgive what I have done,no you can’t stay mad at the setting sun”.

I’ve never understood if Conor really tried to take his life but this song is so powerful, with his promise and everything, that clarifies most doubts about suicide and what implies to those who try.  

6. Poison Oak - I’m wide awake, it’s morning

“ And I don’t think that I ever loved you more “.

His cousin got his life and he’d never accepted his own sexuality. A clear scream in the dark, the song reflects all his doubts about the sexuality and how everyone lives it.

7. Padraic my prince - Letting off the happiness.

“In a coma you don’t dream, you just hope someone sits with you”

As “No lies, just love”, his analysis of the suicide and what led to. 

The lyric refers to a personal experience, since we still aren’t certain about the mental state of a person in a coma.

8. Down to the rabbit hole - Digital Ash in a Digital urn.

“ If your thoughts should turn to death,gotta stomp them out like a cigarette”

A song about drugs abuse and how they change your life’s perception. The last part may refers to some suicidals thoughts.

9. A spindless, a darkness, a fever and a necklace - Fevers and Mirrors.

“ Don’t destroy yourself  like those cowards do”.

Adolescence was hard for everyone and since the start of the song, with the book read aloud by the child, we learn that we can’t be forever those we love. The first time I’ve heard the song, I was 15 and totally wasted with my sadness. Don’t wanna say he saved me but was a good big brother with this album.   

10. Amy in the white coat - Noise Floor

“ You look like your mother, in that thin disguise. Your parting mouth, your shining eyes”

Ah, this one. I always liked this one for the mood, ‘til I found out it was about child abuse and rape. The sweetness of his voice strikes again the heaviness of the lyric.

11. Motion Sickness - Noise Floor

“ So I want to get myself attached to something bolted down, so that these winds of circumstance won’t keep blowing me around”.

The uncertainty of a life around the world could hit everyone, especially when you have to go far from home and settle down again. Tried for myself, this song is dedicated to everyone who struggles against the nostalgia.

12. Landlocked blues

“I’ve found a liquid cure, for my landlocked blues.”

As the previous song, this one speaks about leavings and missing. He’s dumping Laura and tells her to choose another path, he’s got too much from this relationship and his life and wants to move on.

13. Laura Laurent -Lifted

“But you should never be embarrassed by your trouble with living. Because it’s the ones with the sorest throats, Laura, who have done the most singing”

It’s not sad because of the lyrics but because it describes a real person, his friend Laura, who passed through tough times and she’s tired of living. If you are 16, this song is like an anchor.

14. Tourist Trap- Four winds EP

“’Cause I’m not sure if I live here anymore”.

Facing that your city has changed is always hard. You go away and after six months all has changed. It’s hard to accept that, even if you’ve got the habit.

15. No one would riot for less- Cassadaga

“ Little soldier, little insect, you know war it has no heart"

Conor explained this song like “the end of the fuels.” It’s set like a dystopic novel (not so right now) and how people tries to live or survive that. Just with their love.

Ok, I know, there were other songs sadder than those, or maybe not, but, I’ve told you, it’s a personal list. If you like, reblog, quote or answer me with your sad list.

Hi!! I love your blog! I was wondering could you do a series of batman x reader (being poison ivy’s sister)  starting from when they first met till them being married and having kids? Please and thank you. @laughingcherries

Here you go @laughingcherries. More coming soon. Thanks for the request. I had some fun with this. 


You looked out the window as you watched the gloomy gray skies as they were steadily dropping droplets of water. You sighed as you went back to watering your flowers. It was typical to find you here on a rainy saturday afternoon watering over the dozens and dozens of flowers within your shop. You sighed, as you continued to water your tulips. ‘Another gloomy day for a boring girl like myself. And there is no business either.’ you thought. ‘Seriously I need to get out more.’
As you were trapped in your thoughts, you perked up to the sound of the bell ringing on your shop door. You put your spray bottle down and straightened out your apron. “Welcome to Ivy’s.” you said, smiling at the guest. He was a tall man, lean, muscular, and handsome. He also looks vaguely familiar. You watched him as he circled around your store examining your flowers. As he looked at each one, he would put a hand to his chin and making certain noises as if he was thinking hard about something.

You finally came from around the counter and went towards him. You carefully took a few steps just so you won’t startle him. “Excuse me sir?” you said. He seemed to have either ignored you or just didn’t hear you speak. Either way, you tried again. “Excuse me sir?” you said, a little louder this time.

This time he finally noticed you and turned his head towards you. You straightened yourself up and cleared your throat. “Do you need help with anything? I would glad to be of service.”

“Well actually I’m trying to find a certain bouquet.” he said.

“May I ask what for?”

“Let’s just say that it’s a special occasion.”

“A special occasion for a woman perhaps?”

He eyed you curiously. “Something like that.”

You shook your head as you went into your own thoughts. “Do you know what kind of flowers that she likes?”

He sort of looked down at the roses with this sad expression on his face. It actually kind of made you want to cry. “No. No I don’t.”

You cleared your throat as to get out of the awkwardness that you were feeling and focused on him. “Well…describe her.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Describe her. If she is really special to you, you could describe her.”

He gave you that curious look again, but continued with your advice. “Well she had black hair and brown eyes…”

You rolled your eyes. “Not physical descriptions. I mean what is she like as a person. What kind of person is she?”

“Are you sure you’re not just doing this to get some information out of me?”

“Why would I want to do that?”

He looked like he was about to say something but apparently decided against it. He looked at the roses again and started to smile as he touched one of the petals. “She was a beautiful person. A gentle soul, too good for this city. She had elegance, poise, and caring heart. She was the best woman that I’ve ever had in my life.”

You smiled at him as he described this woman. Never in your life had you heard anything so beautiful in your life. “She must be one special lady.”

“She was.” he said. You kinda looked at him a little while longer as he continued to look down at the roses. You cleared your throat once more and he looked at you. “Well, I have the perfect flowers for you.” You moved towards the roses and picked a few of those. “Roses show elegance and beauty.” You then walked around the little shop before you spotted the white lilies. “These white lilies in my opinion show pureness and innocence. Which I think goes well this woman having a caring heart.”

You felt him watching you as you were picking out the flowers. It made you feel a little embarrassed but you were too deep in the flower zone to even care.You looked around the store again but didn’t spot the one flower you were looking for. You turned back to the dashing stranger and gave him a smile. “I have one more flower that would really bring out this bouquet. It’s a little weird but I think I can make it work.”

He nodded his head as you went to the back. There is when you worked your magic as you grabbed that special flower you were looking for. “Yea, this will definitely work.”

About 15 minutes later, you came out with masterpiece and set it on the counter. Here you had a beautiful vase filled with red roses, white lilies, and a two shining yellow sunflowers. You looked up at the handsome man and he looked over your work.

He eyed it for several seconds before he finally spoke up. “Sunflowers?”

You gulped. “Yes. Sunflowers are yellow like the sun. The way you were describing this woman sounded like she meant the world to you.” You looked at the bouquet and studied it once more. “To you, she is your sun.”

You looked at him to see that he was smiling which made you smile as well. “This is truly marvelous. Thank you Ms…”

“Y/N” you replied. “Y/N Y/L/N”

“Well Y/N, you sure have an eye for beauty.”

You laughed a little as he said that. “Funny, my sister said the same thing to me too. She’s kind of a flower fanatic herself.”

“Guess it runs in the family then.” he said. He took out his wallet and gave you his credit card.

You smiled. “Since you gave me a beautiful description of this lucky lady. I’ll give you a 50% off discount. So it will bring your total around $16.67. Pretty cheap bargain if I do say so myself. You’re lucky I didn’t give you full price.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure I could have paid for it.” He then looked at you. “As I will be paying for dinner. Friday night at 8?”

You looked at him curiously. “What about your mystery woman? Were you playing me? Are you a player? Cause I don’t do players.”

He chuckled again. “No, I am not. Don’t get me wrong. She is special to me but I doubt my mother would want to go out on a date with me.”

You blushed from embarrassment. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine. So you still haven’t answered my question. Dinner Friday at 8?”

You smiled at him again. “It’s a date.”

You swiped his card and printed out his receipt to which you wrote your name and number on. “There you go. All set.”

“Thank you, Ms. Y/L/N. See you Friday night.”

“You too Mr…” you looked down at the card in your hand. Once you saw the name, the amount of shock on your face was unbelieveable. “WAYNE?!”

He took the card and receipt, grabbed the flowers and headed out the door. But not before giving you a wink and smirk.

After he left you dumbfounded, you turned around and suck down on the counter. “Holy crap, I have a date Bruce Wayne!!!”

Words Unsaid (f!Hawke x Varric, 2400 words)

Written for Dragon Age Secret Santa ( @dasecretsanta ) for @fus-ro-die who said they like Hawke/Varric. I hope you enjoy it!  Posting it a little early because I can’t wait! ;)  Happy holidays!!!

Marian Hawke shivered, blowing on her hands as she made her way down into Lowtown.  Winter in Kirkwall was far milder than it had ever been in Ferelden, but the chill, encouraged by the stone around her, still seeped into her bones.  She wished she had remembered to bring gloves, though soon enough she would be in the bawdy warmth of the Hanged Man.

The wind flared, a cold blast hitting her right in the face.  She winced; glad as she was to not have snow or sleet on the air, the force of it still made her eyes water.

She fairly skipped down the stairs in the deserted Lowtown marketplace, the walls of the Hanged Man coming into view.  A raw, glad feeling spread from her chest.  It’d be good to see Varric and the others tonight, here in this place that had become a second home to their ragtag little group.

She entered the pub, throwing open the heavy door behind her.  She grinned, seeing the familiar surroundings.  Her mother hated how much time she spent here, but then again, everyone deserved to blow off a little steam.  

She glanced around, but didn’t see Isabela in her regular place by the bar.  Perhaps the pirate was off on another of her mysterious adventures around the city.  Hawke was a bit disappointed; Isabela’s ribald tales always made for exciting evenings.  She scanned the tables, realizing that Anders was probably off in his clinic (somehow emergencies always seemed to happen at night) and that Fenris wasn’t there, either, perhaps keeping watch at Danarius’ abandoned mansion.  She remembered with annoyance that Aveline was on duty tonight, and that Merrill had mentioned earlier she wasn’t feeling well.  She cursed herself for not remembering that before she had ventured out into the cold.

Surely Varric was here, though, she hoped.  The idea of his warm grin, his smooth, storyteller’s voice, and his laugh cheered her.  She didn’t see him down in the lower bar area, and took the stairs up to his suite.  

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Blogger Blues (Ben Bruce) (Asking Alexandria)

Word Count: 879


You were a pretty popular music blogger and had a successful YouTube channel that was centred around your love of music and video games. There was nothing more you loved to do than attend concerts of your favourite bands, but luck had dealt you a crappy hand when you tried to get tickets to see Asking Alexandria but they mysteriously all sold out. This never happened to you and you were upset because they were your favourite band of all time, it may have started because you had a crush on Ben but as the years passed it became all about their music and lyrics.

You open up a new blog post on your site and decide to update your readers, they loved hearing your funny concert stories but this week they’d have to do without. It was a pretty simple post explaining that the tickets were sold out and you were upset because they were your favourite band etcetera, but it served its purpose to get all your negative feelings out.


For some strange reason my social media had been blowing up all day, yes being in a band meant I got my fair share of Twitter notifications but my phone wouldn’t stop vibrating. I had enough and excused myself from the tour bus much to the relief of the guys who had threatened to break my phone if I got one more notification.

As I scrolled through the hundreds of notifications I recognised who my followers were tweeting about. y/n was well known in the band world, she’d done interviews and YouTube videos with other band members but never with Asking Alexandria because the work schedules always seemed to clash. Her blog was quite an amusing read because she didn’t hold back; it was safe to say I was a fan of hers and knew that she liked the band.

Multiple tweets mentioned her most recent blog post and how she wasn’t able to get tickets to see us perform tonight and that I should do something because I was Ben Bruce. I could easily get her a backstage pass and it would be a great excuse to meet her in person, her Fifa videos had all the guys in stitches and they’d thank me later.


You normally ignored your Twitter DMs but something told you to read the one that just made your phone ping. You weren’t expecting anything grand until your eyes landed on the sender and you let out an inhuman noise and started jumping around your living room. Thankfully you lived alone so could freak out without your parents telling you to be quiet. Ben Bruce from Asking Alexandria had messaged you, why the hell would he message you of all people? Then you remembered your blog post and put two and two together.

@benjaminbruce: Heard you wanted to come to show tonight. Meet me at stage door at 6 and I’ll give you a backstage pass, can’t have our biggest fan missing out…

You had the best fans ever, they must have pestered Ben to death after you posted. Now you had less than an hour to get ready and meet Ben at stage door. You sent a silent prayer that this wasn’t some sick joke, because that would break your heart if he ended up making a fool of you.


6pm rolled around and I had to tell the guys because they questioned why my eyes were constantly on the stage door, they were equally ecstatic to meet y/n but said they’d keep their cool because of their reputations. At about five past my phone pinged and I saw a message from y/n stating she was outside. I all but ran to the door and flung it open nearly smacking y/n in her beautiful face; shit did I just call her face beautiful? I tried to compose myself while she laughed and brushed some of her candyfloss green hair off of her face.

“Why Ben was someone eager to see me?”

I scoffed before dangling the backstage pass above her head causing her to pout, she was a lot smaller in person then what you saw behind the computer screen.

“If anything you’re eager to see me y/n. I read your blog so I know I’m your favourite member. What do I get in return for this pass?”

Her face blushed red and I knew I had her, but then she composed herself and tapped her fingers on her chin before smiling.

“If you give me the pass I’ll kiss you Ben. Clearly you’re a fan of mine because you’re talking about a pretty old blog post.”

Was she being serious? I leant down and she stood on her tip toes, but before I could kiss her she smirked against my lips and grabbed the pass from my hand.

“If you want the kiss Bruce you’re going to have to earn it.”

She laughed and put the pass around her neck before patting my shoulder. I shook my head and grinned.

“Oh it’s game on y/n.”

Her eyes widened and she all but ran behind me through the stage door with me quick on her heels. No one left Ben Bruce hanging, I would get my kiss.


♥ it’s time to spread your podcast pallet ♥

It’s a new year, my dear listeners! It is officially 2016 and the forth pallet of my collection is bustling with drama, flare, and horror galore. So write that resolution and sit down to enjoy the soothing tales of the dead and the salty sweet realities of therapy. 

Wanna go on an adventure? Explore the mysterious caverns? Dim the lights and share a scary story? Whatever your mood, PodCake has you covered for another round of audio drama bound to make you laugh, think, and shiver in your seat.

Looking for something fresh to please that sudden thirst for audio storytelling? Look no further as PodCake has six more podcasts you’ll certainly love.

1. Serendipity

Serendipity is radio drama for the 21st century. Presented by your hosts Anna Hepperman and Martin Johnson who have their own story to tell. Serendipity is the podcast of The Sarah Awards, celebrating and rewarding the best audio fiction from around the world.

And thus this show is placed within the same vain of Radio Drama Revival, albeit a bit more recent. Nothing like a collection of plucky, creative minds embracing all there is to know about audio fiction.

The revolution will not be televised, so tune into some sweet Serendipity and tune out all those other troubling background noises for a new tale to tell each passing month.

2. Swings and Round-Abouts

Comedian Avery Edison hashes it out with her robot therapist.

Maybe it’s time you get something off your chest, listener. Here is another unique addition to the pallet as we take a step into the therapy sessions of Avery Edison. This podcast is a pleasant mix of being touching, comedic, and often cathartic.

Nicely written, concise, and oddly soothing to tune into, Swings and Round-Abouts is about as bittersweet as you would imagine. So enjoy your stay here, just don’t steal anything…

3. Lore

Lore is a bi-weekly podcast about the history behind scary stories. The people, places, and things of our darkest nightmares all have real facts at their core. Each episode of Lore looks into a uniquely scary tale and uncovers the truth of what’s behind it. Sometimes the truth is more frighting than fiction.

Something wicked this way comes, and it might just be somewhere in your closet. Horror has never hit so close to home with this beautifully crafted and thoroughly researched podcast, LORE.

May you sleep well tonight upon the realization that werewolves, vampires, and the boogieman might just be more than a mere fantasy. Join Aaron Mahnke as he guides us through the darkest recesses of our history books for an ever-so scary educational session.


Tanis is a serialized docudrama about a fascinating and surprising mystery: the myth of Tanis. Tanis is an exploration of the nature of truth, conspiracy, and information. Tanis is what happens when the lines of science and fiction start to blur…

Docudramas are one thing, but docudramas about the hidden horrors of the world are another. Follow the adventures of the ambitious Nic Silver as he desperately tries to learn what mysteries Tanis may be hiding. Is it a myth after all? Is it safe to endeavor to learn what Tanis may or may not be?

Figure out alongside Mr. Silver in this gripping tale of exploration and just enough frighting and mysterious details in between to keeep you guessing.

5. The NoSleep Podcast

The Nosleep Podcast is a multi-award wining anthology series of original horror stories,with rich atmospheric music to enhance the frightening tales.

It’s dark out, it’s far past midnight, and you just can’t convince yourself to sleep. No need to worry, The NoSleep Podcast will ensue that when you finally convince yourself to shut your eyes and daze into a slumber, that your dreams will be nightmares.

David Cummings, as well as a plethora of equally talented voices, speak smoothly of the stories found deep in the horror Reddit archives. Be welcome but be wary of the tales to tell.

6. Wormwood: A Serialized Mystery

Tragedy forced Doctor Xander Crowe down the dark pathways of the occult, and the man was forever transformed. Now, chasing the vision of a drowned woman, Crowe finds himself in the haunted town of Wormwood, where evils lurks in the shadows and the stains the souls of its inhabits. Welcome to Wormwood.

The world is a dangerous place, especially when we are being wrapped into the dark, dreary, and damp streets of Wormwood. Join Xander Crowe as he searches endlessly into the world of the occult but might be biting off more than he can chew with his current obsession.

Charming, creepy, and wonderfully acted, Wormwood is an intriguing mystery series for those with strong stomachs and an even stronger natch for the pseudo-gothic atmosphere this show wears like a shadowy cloak.

now, get to listening.

Rescue Me- Fantasy!Luke


Everything was dark. The room that you had been put in was cold and wet, a sort of cell you decided. Your shoes had fallen off while you were being transported over to wherever in the world you were now and your once beautiful dress was ripped down the side, exposing your legs to the brisk air causing goosebumps to form on your skin. You couldn’t move due to your delicate hands being tied behind you with harsh ropes that dug into your skin every time you tried to squirm. You were alone, uncomfortable and absolutely terrified. Never in a million years did you think this would ever happen to you. You were the Royal Princess of these lands and you had never spent a day in discomfort. Guards surrounded you at all times, and while once you thought it quite unnecessary you now wished above anything that they were here with you now. Small sobs escaped your lips as you recalled how exactly you had come to be in this godforsaken place in the first place.


“Princess Y/N, tonight is your royal engagement party you could at least look a little more excited.” Your lady in waiting remarked. You were slouching on the throne next to your mother’s, wine goblet in hand and not at all pleased at the reason for tonight’s festivities.

“I know, that’s exactly why I am not at all excited.” You grumbled.

“Now princess, the Prince isn’t an awful man. I think it’s a smart match actually.” She reasoned.

“Smart match or not, I do not love him.” You retorted and your lady in waiting looked up at you with sad eyes.

“Your highness, you know why General Luke can’t be with you. He’s too busy leading the army against those wishing to hurt the royal family. You know he would be with you if he could.” She tried to comfort you, but to no avail. You just sighed in despair and continued sulking as you watched the rest of the kingdom’s happy couples dance the night away on the ballroom floor.
Then suddenly the doors to the grand hall opened and the Royal Herald made the announcement you had been waiting for all evening.

“Announcing General Luke Hemmings returned from the Battle at Treefall, having vanquished our enemies and leaving behind no survivors! Long may he lead!” The herald yelled and the crowd cheered. The people of your kingdom adored Luke. He was the strongest, fastest, most intelligent, kindest man in the realm and all the ladies in the court had their eyes on him. Unfortunately for them though, his heart belonged to someone else entirely.
He entered the room with his head held high and a smile plastered on his handsome face. He waved to the crowd, only making them cheer even louder than they had been before. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him.
Once the noise died down, the orchestra continued playing and the court began to dance once more. Luke eyes scanned the crowd until finally they found yours. He smiled and began to make his way through the crowd, dodging the dukes and nobles who were trying to get a word in with him, until he had made his way over to where you were eagerly sitting on the edge of your throne waiting for him.

“Your highness, you look stunning tonight.” Luke took your hand in his, placing his lips to the skin on the back of your hand, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. He was so handsome, you thought to yourself. He was clad in his formal military attire which just made him look drop dead sexy in your opinion.

“You’re very gracious General.” You smiled coyly at him.

“Please Princess, you know you can call me Luke.”

“Well if we’re going to be so informal you’ll have to ask me to dance first.” You hinted to him, causing him to flash the mysterious grin that you had come to love so much.

“Then by all means, may I have this dance?” You took his outstretched hand and he led you to the dance floor, the sounds of the court ladies’ whispers nothing but background noise. It was common knowledge that you and Luke had feelings for each other. In the royal court hardly anything could be kept a secret, so between the prying eyes of the servants during Luke’s and yours secret “meetings”, and all the gossip that stemmed from that, it was no secret that you and Luke were in love. You had both spoken about the possibility of marriage countless times. It made sense with each of you being the pride and joy of the kingdom. You were the beautiful princess of the land, loved by all who met you and he was the prized general of the military. For the longest time, the people of your kingdom had expected you to be married soon but unfortunately, there were just too many reasons why that could never happen. First, he was gone too much. Your kingdom was the strongest in the world (thanks to Luke) and because of that, there were many threats that Luke and the army constantly needed to keep in check. Between his constant absences from the kingdom and your many royal duties as princess, it was hard to make any time for each other. And of course it would be hard to convince your parents. Your father didn’t want Luke to have any distractions while he was leading his army so of course he forbade him to make any permanent romantic connections. He also wanted to have a say in who you married, and despite your father loving Luke like a son he wanted to be able to marry you off to someone who could provide the kingdom with extra security-like it even needed any when it had Luke as a general. 

You had tried to cut him out of your life, god had you tried. But you loved him too much to be able to let him go. So you continued to meet in secret, sneaking off to the castle gardens at midnight to meet the man that had stolen your heart.

You danced with Luke for what felt like hours as he twirled you around the dance floor. He was one of the best dancers in the kingdom and of course you skills were matched with his having been trained in the art of dance at a young age.

“I’ve missed you Luke.”

“I’ve missed you too Y/N. I thought about you every day while I was away.”

“I keep thinking one of these times you’re going to leave and not come back.” You were holding back tears at this point as you thought about your worst fear.

“Baby, I’ll always come back to you. I’m out there fighting every day to protect you.” He whispered into your hair as you both swayed to the music. “Plus, I’m the best there is baby. Its going to take a lot more than the people attacking us to break me.”

“I know Luke, but I still worry.” You sighed.

“Leave the worrying to me baby.” He spun you around and then brought you back into his arms before you were both interrupted by a raspy voice.

“May I cut in?” Prince Henry was the prince of the neighboring land, the same man that you were now engaged to meaning that Luke had no choice but to step back and let you fiance dance with you. But you were hardly one to play by the rules.

“Actually, I was just about to retire to my chambers for the evening. But thank you for the offer your highness.” You curtsied to him while Luke struggled to contain his laughter.

“Of course princess.” He spoke with clear distaste, but bowed and walked away nonetheless. You then looked at Luke, winked at him and said “I suppose I’ll be going to my chambers then. I’ll see you soon General Luke Hemmings.”

“I’ll see you soon princess.” He chuckled at the code that you two had. See you soon clearly meant ‘meet me in my room later in the evening’ a phrase Luke was very used to by now. So he bid you goodnight like a gentleman as the Herald announced your departure.

You were walking down the halls of the castle towards your sleeping chambers followed closely by your ladies in waiting. When you reached the doors, they tried to follow you inside, insisting that they needed to draw you a bath. But you had other plans for the evening, so you denied their requests and went into your room alone. You began to remove all of your jewelry, taking off the beautiful necklaces and bracelets and rings and removing the crystal tiara from your hair setting it all on your vanity counter. You then began to disrobe, all the way down to your undergarment dress, but before you could take your satin dress all the way off you felt a cold, sharp piece of metal pressed firmly against your throat and a large hand grip your waist.

“Scream and you die.” A gruff voice from behind you spoke.
You were paralyzed with fear, feet rooted to the spot. How did they get in here? Every single entrance to your chambers was heavily guarded at all times. The hand turned you around, forcing you to face him, but his face was covered by a black mask, making him unidentifiable.

“Say goodnight princess.” And before you were even able to let out a yell, you were hit in the back of the head by a blunt force and you were engulfed in darkness.

Luke strolled down the hallways, people tipping their hats in respect to him as he walked. He knew the guards positioned at Y/N’s doors would let him in without a problem, even though she was engaged now. Luke’s heart had broken when he discovered of her forced engagement. He loved the princess more than he ever thought he was capable of loving anything. Of course she was absolutely beautiful, but that wasn’t the only reason he loved her. She was spontaneous and just like him, she lived for an adventure. She was intelligent and kind and had a heart of gold and he loved absolutely everything about her. He just couldn’t believe that someone as breathtaking as her could ever love a simple man like him. Of course he wanted to marry her. He had even proposed once, but they both knew it could never happen. Not while he was off defending the land and she was the one ruling it. So Prince Henry was going to be the lucky man to wed her while Luke was stuck going to war. But that wouldn’t stop him from taking what was his a few times before she was officially off limits

He continued down the hall until he reached the doors of your chambers. Immediately he was granted access and he made his way inside.

“Y/N?” He called out, curious as to why you didn’t rush to embrace him like you usually did.

“Baby, where are you? Y/N?” He walked over to your large canopy bed, but something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. There on your vanity counter was a note which had been sloppily scrawled onto a piece of your personal stationary in handwriting he knew was not your own. He picked it up, reading its content.

If you ever want to see your precious princess again, surrender your armies to us. If you do not evacuate our territory then she will be sent home piece by piece. Choose wisely and quickly. If you attack us further, I guarantee her death will not be quick. Every day you keep us waiting is a another day she suffers.

Luke’s blood began to boil as he read the note over and over. He crumbled it in his fist and let out a deadly roar of anguish before taking off running into the great hall where the evening’s festivities had just ended. ‘V’ was the anonymous villain that led an army of rogue mercenaries against him and his army countless times. He must have figured that kidnapping the princess would not only cause the King to do anything to get her back but also that Luke would sacrifice for her as well. A hero as great as Luke did not have any physical weaknesses, but god would he do anything for that girl. She was his weakness, his Achilles heal, and it seems the rogues had figured that out. His love for her might cost her her life and that is not something Luke would ever let happen.

He burst through the door of the grand hall in a frenzy and immediately turned to the king.

“She’s gone! She’s been taken!” He wailed.

“General Hemmings, what is it that you’re going on about?” The King questioned his favorite general.

“Princess Y/N, she’s been kidnapped! I went into her chambers to check if she had made it there safely and all I could find was this note.” He showed the ransom letter to the king.
The King gaped at the message, tears immediately springing to his eyes. “No! My daughter! My little girl, my princess no!” The king sobbed. “We have to get her back, we have to surrender!”

As much as Luke wanted her back, he knew that they could not sacrifice the safety of the entire kingdom. So like any good general, he began to form a plan of offense. 

“No, your highness we cannot give up our forces so easily. I will go find her. I know these lands better than anyone. I will find her and bring her back to you.” Luke took a knee, bowing before his king.

“Send only one man? You must be joking.” A sneer voice sounded from behind him. Luke turned to see the proud face of the Prince Henry, clad still in his party clothes and looking at Luke as if he was dirt on his shoe.

“Excuse me Prince Henry but do you have a better suggestion? Or do you think you should leave military operations to those who know how to run an army?” Luke knew how to throw shade, leaving the prince in a disheveled state.

“Well, I…I can send my army to retrieve her.” The prince blurted.

“And have her die a slow and painful because we attacked? That plan is rubbish. I know the land, I know how to fight, and I know her. It’s the best plan we’ve got.”

It was clear that the King was thinking about his options. He trusted Luke with his life, he just had to decide if he trusted him with his daughter’s.

“Alright Luke, bring her home.” The king announced, and Luke bowed in respect.

“As you wish my king. I swear to you I will do whatever it takes that the princess is not harmed in any way.”

Luke turned to go, but before he could exit the hall, a very angry Prince Henry stopped him and whispered so that only the two of them could hear. “I know about your affair with the princess. Don’t think I don’t know why you want to go alone. If I so much as hear that you even as looked at her in a way that would displease me I will have you executed.”  Luke looked at the prince with pure fire in his eyes before speaking in a low voice that would have struck fear into the mightiest of men.

“Men greater than yourself have not dared threaten me as you do. Don’t make a liar of yourself highness.” And with that Luke exited the hall, towards the stables so that he could begin his rescue of the girl he loved.

                Meanwhile, the sound of a key turning the door to your prison jolted you from your thoughts. You struggled slightly at your bonds, nervous of who was going to walk through the doorway. The door swung open and you were met with a large man, almost as tall as Luke, with large muscles and a broad build. He was bald and had a scar on his head that ran from the top of his skull down to his lip. His eyes were dark as he approached you, kneeling down to your level so he could speak with you. His voice was raspy and you recognized it as the same as the one you had heard before you blacked out.

“Hello princess. Are you comfortable?”

“Wh-who are you?” You choked out. The man stroked your face making you stutter.

“My, you’re just the prettiest thing aren’t you? I can see why the kingdom adores you so. I heard you even managed to bring the great Luke Hemmings to his knees.” The man’s voice was ice in your bones as he continued to taunt you.

“No, I don’t know what…why did you bring me here?”

“Oh yes, let me just reveal my whole plan to you.” The man rolled his eyes before grabbing your chin in his rough hands before growling, “all you need to know is that I decide whether you live or die today highness. And not even Luke Hemmings can save you now.” Tears were pouring from your eyes as the man threatened you.

“Please sir, I’ll give you whatever you want. Money? Land? Whatever you want it’s yours, please just let me go!” You cried.

“I don’t want your money little girl, I want your bloody army out of here. And you’re going to be the one to help me do it. So stay here and for god’s sake shut the hell up I could hear you crying from out there!” This only made you cry more, so the man tore off some cloth from his worn out garments and tied it around your mouth, muffling your sobs.  

“Now be a good girl and stay here.” The evil man exited the cell, slamming the door behind him and leaving you alone to think about your fate.

Oh how you wished Luke would come and find you. Part of you knew he would, but another part of your wondered if he would ever find you here. You didn’t even know where you were how would he ever know where to find you?

Trying to free yourself, you fought against your ties but to no avail. Defeated, you decided that at this point is was all you could do to just sit here and pray for the greatest hero in your kingdom, and your greatest love, to come and save you.

Part 2 


The Pisces Woman, by Linda Goodman
‘Well, what are you?“ said the Pigeon. "I can see you’retrying to invent something!” “I-I’m a little girl,” said Alice, rather doubtfully.She found herself at last in a beautiful garden, among the bright flower-beds and the cool fountains.

The line forms to the right. And please don’t crowd. There may not be enough Pisces women for every man, but that’s no reason to be unruly. You’ll have to take your turn, and hope for the best.

Even without astrology, rumors have spread about the charms of a Pisces female. She has her negative points, to be sure, but at first glance she’s every man’s grade school valentine, with maybe just a touch of a Playboy bunny to add some pepper. We might as well admit that the modern, emancipated woman, with her cast-iron image, has made the Pisces girl’s value shoot even higher. With all that freedom from the feminine mystique clouding the air over lover’s lane, the demure, pretty, helpless Neptune creature has to beat off the men with big sticks.

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anonymous asked:

coulson and may own a comic book store. jemma, fitz, mack, and bobbi like to play dungeons & dragons there. they HAD another player, ward, but he was a douche who got himself banned from the store, so bobbi invited another friend of hers to join them. which is great! except? the new girl skye? her character keeps flirting with jemmas character?? and jemmas kinda having trouble figuring out where the line between character and player is??? and skye is really pretty so its very distressing????

So I just need to point out that I’ve never actually played Dungeons and Dragons before, though it will probably became painfully obvious once you start to read this story. I did the best I could! Also I couldn’t help but base some elements off this post because it kinda cracks me up. 

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