Bio- 19, KY,USA, art student. Love the Silmarillion/LOTR/Tolkien @aredhel-irl - Tumblr Blog

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klarex

I'm not happy with this fic as I should be, but I hope you like it.

Genre: fluff

Warnings: fighting, dead orcs, Kíli in pain from a shot from Bolg

Summary: Locking Fíli up in a cell.

Paring: Fíli Durinson x warrior! elf! reader

Knives and daggers

Gif from pinterest, it's not mine

Pov. (Y/n)

I was leading the blond dwarf to his cell. He already gave off his weapons, but I still could see a knife sticking out of his coat. His eyes didn't leave me for a second.

multi-fandom-imagine

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙’𝖘 𝕮𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 || 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚 ||

A/n: Time for me to get into writing some spooky / monster fucker things.

Warnings:Virgin!Reader · Reincarnated Bride trope · Mirror sex · Worshipful Dracula · Blood kink · Breeding kink overtones · Soulmate-level possession · Power imbalance turned devotion

You had come to find your brother.

You hadn’t come to be touched.

You certainly hadn’t come to fall in love with a monster.

But from the moment the gates of Castle Dracula creaked open beneath moonlight, you felt the truth sink into your bones.

You knew this place.

And he knew you.

❖.

“Why are there paintings of me?”

You whispered it aloud, even though your throat was tight with disbelief.

You had found the hidden wing while exploring, doors long dust-covered and barred with rusted iron. But inside… portraits.

Oil on canvas. Drawings. A bust.

All of you.

One in armor, standing above a battlefield.

One pregnant, seated beside a black-haired man on a throne.

One in a tattered white dress, eyes haunting, lips bruised.

One… dead.

And in the center of it all—

You.

As you were now.

Same face. Same soft eyes. Same necklace passed down through your family for generations.

“You painted these,” you whispered.

A voice answered from the shadows behind you.

“No. I only painted the first one. The rest… I remembered.”

You turned.

He was already there.

Count Dracula.

Ageless. Beautiful. Terrible.

And looking at you like a man who had starved for centuries.

❖.

“I don’t understand,” you whispered as he approached.

“You don’t need to,” he murmured. “Your soul does.”

He brushed his knuckles down your cheek. “Every life you’ve lived, I’ve found you. And every time… fate took you from me.”

His hand slipped behind your back.Pulled you gently against him.“But not this time,” he promised.“This time, you came to me.”

❖.

You didn’t fight him.You didn’t want to.

When his mouth kissed yours, it was not cruel or claiming. It was aching. As though he had kissed you a thousand times before and would beg to kiss you a thousand more.

You gasped into his mouth as he deepened it—hands cradling your face, lips trailing down your jaw, your throat, your collarbone.

He whispered your past names between kisses.

“Arathia… Lysa… Melinora… beloved…”

And you whimpered, “What’s my name now?”

He lifted his head, eyes glowing.

“Wife.”

❖.

The bedroom was already lit with candlelight.

Your body trembled as he undressed you slowly. Reverently.

Every layer of your gown slid off with a whisper, until you stood in nothing but your necklace and innocence.

“You are untouched,” he murmured, eyes devouring every curve, every breath, every flicker of fear.

You nodded.

He smiled.

“Then allow me the honor of worshipping you properly.”

❖.

He sat you before a mirror.

Wide, gold-framed, ornate. You could see both your naked form and his towering one behind you—clothed in shadows, in hunger.

His pale hands brushed over your arms, your breasts, down your belly.

“You do not know how long I have waited to see this,” he whispered against your ear.

You whimpered when he slid his fingers between your legs.

“So soft,” he purred. “So warm. So wet already.”

“Please,” you begged, thighs twitching. “Please, my lord—”

He growled lowly. “Call me husband.”

“H-husband,” you gasped, eyes fluttering.

He licked into your mouth. Then—he knelt behind you.

And devoured you from behind, tongue tracing your folds, slow and worshipful.

Your reflection trembled in the glass, your body shaking as his mouth made you feel like a goddess.

When you came, you collapsed into his arms, sobbing his name.

❖.

Then he carried you to the bed.

And let you see him.

All of him.

Hard, long, pale as moonlight and flushed at the tip.

You stared.

“You’ll never fit.”

He chuckled, low and rich. “Little dove. You’ll take every inch.”

He kissed your thighs. Pressed the head of his cock to your entrance. And whispered:

“Look into the mirror when I claim you. Watch what it means to belong.”

Then he thrust.

❖.

It burned.

You cried out.

But he held you—whispering soft things, petting your face, rocking deeper and deeper until he was fully inside you.

You’d never felt so full. So stretched.

So alive.

“Look,” he commanded gently.

And you did.

You watched his cock sliding in and out of you, soaked in your slick and virgin’s blood. Watched your breasts bounce, your thighs tremble, your mouth fall open.

And you saw your eyes—glowing in the candlelight. Gold. Like his.

You were changing.

You were becoming his.

❖.

“Say it,” he growled, rutting into you harder now.

“Yours!” you sobbed. “I’m yours!”

His fangs pierced your neck at the same moment you shattered around him, clenching down, screaming as he filled you with hot, thick release.

He kept grinding into you, slow and deep, pumping every drop of seed into your womb.

When he pulled back, he kissed the blood at your throat.

“You are mine. In every life. In this one, I will not lose you.”

You clung to him. Heart racing.You didn’t want to leave.

And you never would.

roseandxanderfics

"You are powerful but are terminal in death" - Lord of the Rings x reader

n0tamused

a proud elf fucker has come to disturb ur peace bbygurl smug tiktok emoji

so,,,, humans are more openly affectionate and touchy-touchy compared to the elves right? hand holding, smooching ur friends’ forehead or cheeks for good luck or saying goodbye or when showing u have missed each other or an arm around the other’s waist when comfortably sitting beside each other and chatting.

how would the elves react to this? like a human s/o (before courting) who is just generally so,,,,,,, affectionate (i dunno how many characters you would accept pookie but im mainly thinking of thranduil, legolas, feren and lindir for this)

expect me more in ur inbox pookie😚(a threat)

A/n: Come by my door again and I will throw you out (a warm meal awaits you inside). This is more of a ramble than really my usual headcanons that I do for characters. A reminder again - but I am a bit rusty with writing for these characters, so this is me rambling about them so I can explore them better. Unapologetically longer part for Legolas bc he is my bbg. Didn't do Feren for this one, but I hope to add his part on this prompt in the future. Hope you enjoy pookie!

Contents: Thranduil, Legolas, Lindir x GN!Reader (separate), fluff. not proof-read so expect grammar mistakes (very scary)

Words: 1471

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

tac-the-unseen

Lost Boys x Injured Reader

CW: Gang violence, guns, blood, description of unlicensed surgery, minor gore

You and David were by a small brick wall with all of the boys parked bikes. While Marko, Paul, and Dwayne ran around and had fun with each other, you and David stayed behind. David stayed because he was scouting victims, and you stayed behind because you were incredibly tired. You had to work earlier than normal which threw off your whole sleep schedule, and the headache you were sporting wasn't helping either.

Dwayne had already told you how unnecessary it is for you to work. Not only do the guys have a huge amount of money and other values stashed away, you’ll only end up burning yourself out. You however were firm with working, it gave you something to do. While sitting back to never work again sounds like an absolute dream, the sinking pit in your stomach told you otherwise. You felt too lazy. Mix that with anxiety and you swiftly found yourself a job at the local mall.

You laid on top of Dwayne’s bike, the (arguably) most comfortable bike, while humming to keep your mind busy. You cross your arms over the handlebars and use it to cushion your head. Your legs are just short enough to miss the ground, so you swing them back and forth. Your eyes slowly start to close as your mind slips away into a light nap, but that's when your body jolts itself upright. Your body reacts before your brain fully understands what was happening.

Gunshots, several of them.

The fast pops whip through the air, then are quickly followed by more. It's not rare that Santa Carla has a few idiots with guns, but what is rare is a full on shoot out. You see several people running away from the middle of the boardwalk. You watch as they push past each other and you even catch sight of the poors souls that get knocked to the floor. You know those people will be trampled to death by the terrified crowd, but you can't help but briefly think about how horrible that cause of death is. Head trauma, crushed ribs, pierced lungs, snapped neck, all happening to you in a matter of seconds. It's truly a brutal way to go.

David grabs you by the arm and pulls you off Dwayne’s bike and into his chest. David turns himself around to cover you and put you onto his own bike. That's when a sharp, burning pain hits your shoulder. By the time you know what's wrong David has already started his motorcycle and is speeding off. You hissed in pain as the warm California air hits your red, hot, open wound. While David drives you slide off your jacket and press it into the hole in your shoulder. You lean into David's shoulder and bite down onto his leather coat. The stinging pain mixed with the bounce of the trail makes you nauseous, but before you know it, your home.

David wastes no time parking his bike and grabbing you, pulling you into the cave. He runs past the common room, kicking shit out of the way, and sets you into the nest. David is fast, his movements show panic, But oddly enough not his face. He's stone cold, you'd be almost offended if you didn't see the way his pupils are blown wide open. He is panicking, he's just not showing it.

In his haste he grabs some old clothes of his from what you can assume was the 1800’s. Lucky that old thing is clean, you know because you're the one that washed it. He presses the white cotton button up into your shoulders, your body reacts by trying to pull away, but David doesn't let you get far. “Hold still love.” He pleads gently.

You hiss at the touch, Your shoulder burns and stings with a dull throbbing pain. Your heartbeat throbs in your ears while David does his best to stop the bleeding. You're lurched back into reality as someone pulled you into their chest by the waist. You look back to find Paul pulling you in and hastily kissing the back of your head. You look around to see Marko and Dwayne finding more cloth to stuff the wound.

By the four shirt the bleeding slows and your vision is swirling. Dwayne holds your hand and presses kisses into your knuckles while Marko and David are setting up supplies to dig out the bullet and sew you shut. You see them using a lighter to disinfect a pair of tweezers and two needles. Your tears blur you vision so much there's no point in keeping them open.

“I know baby, I know.” Dwayne tries to reassure you, but they all know that's not going to work. You hear footsteps and open your eyes to look up. David is crouching down with the sterile tweezers and you catch the look in his eyes. He's clearly anticipating your reaction, they all know it's not going to be fun.

Paul grabs your other hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, Dwayne is quick to do the same. Another wave of panic shoots through you, while this is an act of love, they're also holding you down.

“Ready?” David says in the most delicate voice you've ever heard from him. You sob out and brace yourself, David knows you're never going to be ready, but has to do this either way.

When he begins digging you're met with what is now the worst pain you've ever been in. Being shit was one thing, this was 10 times more intense. You feel every jab and poke, the pain is nearly indescribable. You seriously would have rather been stabbed.

While you violently sob and scream, Paul and Dwayne hold you down tightly. You legs twist and almost kick David, but Marko was quick to swoop in and pin them down too. With all this chaos David is apologizing with every movement he makes. He shushes you while digging into your bleeding wound until he hits metal.

He slowly drags up the bullet. When the Damned thing is dislodged from your shoulder David quickly packs the wound again. “I'm sorry love, you did such a good job.” He praises while getting up.

They wait until your crying slows and you're no longer trying to kick the air...or Marko. Marko lets go of your legs slowly and stands you. He hurries over to the cabinet and grabs an already threaded needle. “It's not over yet, love.” Paul whispers in an apologetic way. Marko sprays the wound with a disinfectant before he begins his work. David is now the one hugging your legs as Marko gets in close to sew you together. “1…2…3!” Marko says before the needle pierces the lower part of the wound.

Your voice is hoarse from David's previous excursion, but you still manage to hiss and cry. Marko’s work is quick but not sloppy. He too is spewing apologies like a prayer. By the time he's done you've lost all your fight and lay limp and sobbing against Paul's chest.

Marko sprays some disinfectant on your wound and patches you up with cotton pads and a cloth wrapping. As soon as he's down you're pulled into a laying down position by Paul and all four boys start cooing at you.

You're surrounded by purrs and buzzing, praises and kisses, all around you. But that all combines into mindless ringing as you stare up at the ceiling. You still feel the stinging, pinching, and throbbing burn. The thumping of your heart hasn't stopped either, you're still in pain.

Finally your body gives in and your vision fades.

The first sight you're met with is the ceiling. As you blink away the sleep you catch a glimpse of fluffy blonde hair. You turn your head to see Marko asleep and more of Paul's hair. As you come too you realize you're still on Paul's chest. You look to your other side and see both Dwayne and David also asleep.

You gather that it's probably morning and that you probably missed your early work shift. While that thought flies through your head the second one to follow is ‘I’m fucking quitting.’

You slowly wiggle yourself out of your mates arms and the nest, and quietly leave the room. You're still in pain, and the wiggling around you just did wasn't helping, but it was manageable. What really bugs you right now is how thirsty you are. Your body is screaming for water like never before. You guess it made some sense, you did lose quite a lot of blood.

You shuffle over to the living area, in the corner are stacks of water bottles. You remember when you first began staying in the cave how you complained that the cave didn't have any running water. You half jokingly said you'd start bring jugs of water when you stayed over. The next day when you complained of thirst Marko busted open a large crate and pulled out a plastic water bottle with absolute glee. Bastards had waited for you to complain all day so they could show off the water they stole for you.

While making your way to the water supply you hear a similar shuffling behind you. “What are you doing up this early?” you hear Paul's groggy voice behind you. You lean over a grab a bottle, you don't even attempt to talk, you know your voice is gone by the way your throat is still raw. You just hum at him and chug your first bottle.

By the time you reach for your next his arms are around you and gently rocking side to side. You untwist the cap and chug your second bottle. “You're gonna need vitamins and shit.” he grumbles into your good shoulder.

“They’re gonna need more than that.” Another voice murmurs from the dark. You don't have to turn your head to identify David’s voice. “We'll get you plenty tonight, but for now we all need sleep.” He promises in a sleepy tone. You finish your second bottle but your thirst is still unmatched

With Paul holding onto your middle you make grabbie hands at the water stash. David grunts in response but get you your third water. “Finish that and we'll go to bed.” Paul says and kisses the side of your neck.

When you're done you're hauled off to the nest and tucked into place. Dwayne and Marko are just slightly awake and mumbles out incomprehensible words. You're put in-between them with Paul and David quickly to snuggle into your lower half.

Its uncharacteristically gentle of the, but you definitely don't hate it. Even more kisses are pressed into your hips and forehead, as they all settle back into sleep. You too fall under sleeps spell while you plan out what food you're gonna eat when night falls.

The last thing you hear are soft purrs.

Thanks for reading <3

I know it's not the greatest but I have like 5 finals to do. I'm in my last couple of days before I graduate.

justnatoka

Creep deterrent

Poly! Lost Boys x Fem! Reader

A/n: Just a little something that came to my mind while working on another request. It took hold of my brain so I had to get it out lol.

Word count: 1.6k

Warning: stalking and creepy behaviour

Summary: After being followed and chased around by some creep on the boardwalk, you ask for help from the infamous boys of Santa Carla.

At any other night you would have steered clear of them. That's what most people did – except for the meathead surf nazis. They were hard to miss, the howling of their bike engines echoing over the noise of the boardwalk. These boys looked like trouble; it was wiser to keep a safe distance and not get involved with them. But that's exactly why you needed them tonight.

It was a weekly tradition with your friends to spend weekend nights on the boardwalk. You played games, ate greasy food and got drunk on the beach around a campfire. It was a reliable routine, one that guaranteed to get your spirits up no matter how grueling the days before have been. You could count on them to meet you at the entrance at the same exact time every Friday and Saturday. Perhaps that's why he knew you would be here on this exact night.

You had no idea who he was, you've never seen him before last Friday, when you first spotted him following your group around the boardwalk. At first, you told yourself that it was nothing, you were delusional, he was just another person enjoying the cheerful atmosphere. Sure, it was a bit unnerving that he was wearing a dark hoodie and a baseball cap, effectively concealing his face, but if he wanted to sweat his ass off in the balmy summer air, that was his choice.

But then you started seeing him more and more as the night progressed, always keeping some distance, but always there. And when you noticed him on Saturday as well, wearing the exact same clothes, doing the exact same stuff, you got really anxious. You brought it up with your friends, however in their slightly drunken state they laughed it off as just a pathetic creep who got off on ogling at pretty girls. You didn't share their merriment, but decided to let it go for now. Up until now he didn't do anything more than stare. There was no real harm in that, right? Wrong.

Here you were a week later, making your way out of the public bathroom, looking around for your friends. The boardwalk was busier than usual, probably due to the fact that a popular band was playing at the stage tonight. That's why you didn't worry when you didn't spot them right away. But the more you looked, turning your head this way and that, and still not being able to see them, you started getting a bit nervous.

That's when you noticed him. A solitary figure dressed in a dark hoodie and baseball cap, standing in one place while the colorful crowd weaved around him. Your stomach dropped when he took a step towards you, and even though you couldn't make out his face, you were sure he was staring right at you, your skin crawling under his unseen gaze.

When he took another step, your mind blanked. You didn't think, you just ran.

While weaving through the crowd as fast as you could, your brain booted back up, and your mind started racing a mile a minute. What did he want? Why was he doing this? How long has he been stalking you? What if this has been going on longer than you've realized, and it was only by accident that you've noticed him last week? Were you his target all along or did he choose you because you were alone? It was clear he wanted to use this opportunity; for what, you had no idea, and you had no intention of finding out either.

Occasionally, you kept glancing back to discover him still following you. And he just kept on coming, the distance between you shrinking at an alarming rate. At this point you threw good manners aside and started pushing people out of your way, ignoring complaints and cusswords directed at you. Your veins were running full of adrenaline, the rapid thumping of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. You had no idea where exactly you were headed, the only thought filling your mind was the need to be as far from him as possible.

The crowd finally spit you out near the edge of the boardwalk; the railing separating the beach to your left, and up ahead a set of stairs leading down to the sand. At the other side of said stairs, surveying and laughing at the drunken antics of the people below were four familiar figures. The infamous boys of Santa Carla were lazing around their bikes, all easy smiles and cigarette smoke and loud chatter. You've never interacted with them before – you knew they were trouble –, but now it only took you half a second to weight your options.

Conversation between them died down as soon as they noticed you approaching, your steps purposeful, the air around you reeking with anxiety.

"What's up, dollface?" one of the blonde guys asked, lean body resting against his bike, his eyes looking you up and down with a crooked smile.

"Are you alright?" the tall brunette inquired, his concerned gaze taking in the slight shake of your hands.

You wrung them together nervously, risking a glance back at the crowd. It directed their attention behind you, and they immediately noticed the dark figure lurking nearby, clearly turned in your direction. You hoped that the sight of the four boys would cause him to hesitate, but it seemed like the prospect of passing up his chance made him reckless, as he started to move towards you again.

You took a few steps back, colliding with a solid body. You flinched when two big hands took hold of your shoulder, steadying you on your feet. Looking up, your eyes met warm brown ones, the brunette sending you a small, reassuring smile.

"H-he's stalking me." The words stumbled out of your mouth before you've even realized. "He's been following me and my friends, and now I got separated from them, and couldn't find them anywhere and then he started chasing me," you rambled on, your breath hitching as you watched him approach.

The grip on your shoulders tightened, the boys exchanging silent looks, before they took action. The blond who first spoke to you and the shorter one hopped on their bikes, revving their engines and moving in front of you, essentially creating a shield of flesh and blood and steel between you and the creep. This finally made him stop, hands clenching and unclenching in silent frustration.

"Hey, dude, fuck off," the shorter one shouted over.

It only made him even more agitated, but he still didn't leave. It's not like he could fight off all four of them if it came down to it, however that didn't seem to matter to him right now. His sheer determination to harm you – because you had no doubt that that's what was going to happen if he got his hands on you – made you even more terrified.

That's when the last boy made his move. He didn't say anything until now, quietly assessing the situation from the background and letting his friends deal with it. But now he was walking forward, his movements filled with confidence and a sureness you've only hoped to possess. There was something dangerous about it, how calm he was, and as he passed you, you could have sworn you saw the features of his face change. The next second he was already in front of you, your eyes glued to his back as he stepped between the two bikes and stopped at a short distance from the creep.

He slowly brought his cigarette to his lips and blew out a lazy stream of smoke.

"I think you should go."

That was all he said, his voice cold as he – you assumed – looked deep in the eyes of your pursuer. You had no idea what the creep saw on him, but it was enough to make him falter, taking back a few hasty steps before straight up running off.

When he turned back around, there was nothing unusual about him, he looked exactly like he did a few minutes ago. He came up to you with a smirk on his scruffy face, and in the most nonchalant voice he said,

"He's not gonna bother you anymore."

You faintly registered the two blondes behind him grinning at each other, giggling and mocking how the guy ran like a baby. You were too busy with the feeling of your face burning up from the intense gaze of the boy in front of you.

He took one of your hands in his glowed one, and you watched in a daze as he brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

"I'm David, and these are my boys. Pleasure to meet you," he said, his voice doing funny things to your stomach. You stuttered out your name in return, and his grin widened at your reaction.

He introduced the other three. Dwayne flashing you a lopsided smile, Marko giving you a small wave and Paul sending a wink your way. You jumped when Paul suddenly threw his arm around your shoulder, and with a tone that was definitely flirty he asked,

"How about you stay with us for the rest of the night, hm, sugar? Just to make sure the dude doesn't come back."

You looked at each one of them, their good looks and easy smiles and the danger in their eyes making your heart flutter. Oh, they were definitely trouble. But interestingly enough, you had a feeling that their company was the safest place you could be in the whole of Santa Carla. You've found yourself agreeing before you've even realized.

As Marko took hold of your hand to show you his bike, you felt yourself finally relax. You couldn't wait to tell your friends all about it.

Tags: @stinkydove @pandemoniavenus @000-colby @lunarwhitewolf7 @notalwaysa @binightowl @darlingnikkisixxxx @skrimblo-blumpkgo @wpdarlingpan @gibzzsworld @thelostboysforeva @vxncevis @thelostsimp @sireanmagne @acotar-lover @swagfancroissantpizza2

Leave a comment on this post if you want to be added to my taglist!

darlingemerson

ℭ𝔯𝔶 𝔏𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔖𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯; III

{poly!lost boys x fem!reader}

♱ 𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: explicit

♱ 𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Michael's sudden change is unwelcome in the Emerson household. After an apparent prank that scares you and your brothers, you take matters into your own hands and confront David's gang head on.

♱ 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: emerson!reader, fem!reader, reader is 18-19 (middle child), reader wears glasses, foul language, sibling dynamics, mentions of divorce, stuck-up?reader (she's prissy at times), teasing, temptation at its finest, mentions of stalking, flirting????? at the music store???? get your act together girl,

♱ 𝔞/𝔫: there are a few new scenes in this chapter because I wanted the reader to have more interaction with the boys before giving in. Side note, but I hate when I find a good song and it's released after '87, because it would be perfect for this series. So, the unofficial song for this chapter is Give In to Me by Michael Jackson. Also, if this were a movie, Runaway would start playing as soon as the reader storms out of the house to confront the boys on the boardwalk. OG word count: 2432, revamped word count: 4250

[1] [2] ... [4] ... [8] [9]

stochastic-shieldmaiden

I don’t know why we need reblog graphs but they’re surprisingly fun to watch or maybe I just like graphs

rekrappeter

there’s so much you don’t know

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: after the death eaters swarm bill & fleur’s wedding, fred can’t keep his feelings at bay in fear that something might happen

warnings: mention of war, mentions of torture, mentions of death, swearing, typos, small bit of angst, fluff

notes: please let me know what you think of this, feedback would be amazing thank you

The woman that stared back at you in the cracked mirror was someone you barely recognised in that moment. It was surreal that a purple dress hung loosely on your body, your hair pinned to how you wanted it, and the make-up that decorated your face was hiding the heavy bags and stressed acne that the past few months brought. Everyone thought it was deranged to have a wedding in the current times, when the wizarding world was falling apart, but everyone also knew they needed a distraction. People needed one night to themselves before everything went wild. ‘The calm before the storm,’ Arthur Weasley forced a smile during the conversation at dinner a week ago.

“The calm before the storm,” you whispered to yourself, trying to zip your dress up from behind with unnecessary struggle. You have been sharing a room with Hermione and Ginny for the past week, helping Molly prepare for the wedding and calming Fleur down in moments of madness. Walking over to the ajar door, you called out Hermione’s name and when there was a steady silence that followed, you tried Ginny’s. But no one answered your calls for help until a head popped out from the room just above you, looking over the ballister.

“Everything okay, love?” Out of everyone that was scattered around the house, of course it had to be Fred Weasley. It wasn’t that you disliked him or held any cynical feelings towards the older boy, it was the complete opposite in fact. When you met his younger brother, Ron, on the train during your first year at Hogwarts, you never expected to fall madly in love with his family member. It was hard not to fall for Fred when he introduced you, and at first you pushed it off as a crush but here you were, nearly seven years later, with a blush painting your cheeks and the nauseous butterflies swirling in your stomach.

Keep reading

jupitersmusings

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

overlord-fire-bubble

THIS ONE FUCKING WORKS. REBLOG IT.

essenceofrose

Okay I reblogged and got into the entrepreneurship program I wanted. This WORKS

magicalmerry

Reblogging for some added help for the coming months

powerfulwizard

I HATE Elon Musk saying shit about how we need to preserve humanity by making other planets inhabitable before Earth isn’t inhabitable… if we can make MARS, a genuine lifeless shithole, or any other barren planet near us, into a habitable planet, why not just do that to post-climate disaster Earth? The planet that specifically suits our species? I’ve talked about this before but like, Earth will ALWAYS be more habitable than any other planet because we specifically evolved to survive here, even if it gets fucked up by climate change, living on here will still be better than living on mars or the fucking moon or whatever.

powerfulwizard

EARTH is a unique phenomena and if we lose it we will probably NEVER find anything like it again. This isn’t fucking Star Trek. I doubt we’re gonna find an “M Class Planet” or whatever within close range of travel. This is the world we have. If we can “FIX” some freezing lifeless rock like Mars than we can fix earth.

demipercys-deactivated20210812

Nico: How much of a bad person are you?

Percy: I take really hot showers to practice burning in hell.

witchcastors

The Great Goddess Hecate (Hekate)

Who is Hecate? She is the Goddess of Witchcraft, Necromancy, Ghosts, Magic, and, in some instances, the Night, Darkness, The Mist, and Moon. For some She is also the goddess of motherhood, protection, and the sea. She is a Hellenic deity, born of the Titans Asteria and Perses. There’s a few beliefs circling around Her being a crone goddess or a Triple Goddess, but those are modern and neopagan beliefs—which She predates. I also consider Her to be a part of the Chthonic deities.

Symbology: Black dogs, Wolves, Keys, Torches, Flames, Torches, Crossroads, Serpents, Daggers, Birds of Prey (crows, ravens, owls), the Moon, witchcraft tools (such as cauldrons, tarot, athames)

Offerings & Devotional Acts for Her:

Figurines of any of Her symbols

keys, skeleton keys, lockets

fire witchcraft and candles, flames, matchsticks

dedicating any lunar or symbolic jewelry to Her

black/dark crystals such as obsidian and onyx

nocturnal animal imagery

black/cool colored glitter

baneful/poisonous herbs and plants

pomegranates/berries (She seems to really like blackberries)

dark blend wines

honey, cinnamon, poppy seeds, chocolates (dark)

mugwort, lavender, roses, jasmine, dragon’s blood

bones and feathers from birds of prey (please check your local laws about obtaining these)

pinpricks of blood (please DO NOT attempt this if you struggle with self harm/etc, blood magic is particularly strong and isn’t for everyone. She will understand if you cannot offer that to her).

Taking midnight walks, setting up altars and rituals at crossroads, paying respects to the dead and practicing your craft in a cemetery

Any playlists, poems, literature, whether it be your own or just a piece you associate with Her, also make wonderful offerings.

Lunar Influences & Connections: Reaching out to Hecate tends to work best at night, and really any time the moon is at it’s peak. The Witching Hours, midnight to 3A.M., during strong lunar influences (blue moons, blood moons, eclipses, new moons, etc) all hold strong bonds with Hecate. Also, any time it is particularly foggy or your surroundings are covered in a mist is a good time to try to connect with Her.

Disclaimer: These are correspondences that have been gathered through my personal experiences working through my craft with Her. If you find She responds better to different offerings/during different times, by all means, stick to it! Your bond with Her is your own and should be cultivated in whichever way works best for you and Her. Thank You!

aimlessrambling

Loyalty (Part Two - Soulmate!Loki)

Pairing: Loki x Reader, Soulmates AU

Word count: 8.2k

Warnings: None. It’s just fluff and character building.

Summary: Soulmates were a gift to Asgard from the goddess Frigga, and her greatest gift was for her son Loki.

Notes: I originally intended for this to be only two parts, but I’ve had to break it into three parts... on account of the fact that part two ended up being 8 THOUSAND WORDS. I hope this turned out okay. It’s a bit of a change of pace from part 1 now that lore is established and I’m trying to cover the relationship of two literal immortals in just 3 chapters. Of note for this, Narfi is the name of Loki’s son with Sigyn in Norse Mythology. Not relevant to plot, just gives some explanation to this if y’all weren’t already aware. Thanks again to @this-issam for reading most of this through.

I intend to create a spin off of this that exists in the same soulmate universe, but isn’t a sequel and can be read before/after this or as a stand alone, that would focus on the Avengers more. Probably Cap or Bucky… Thoughts?

Previously On… Part One

(Y/n) stood alone in the center of a large octagonal room. It was more of a house than a room. She was fairly certain that, even with her family’s status as nobility, most if not all of her home could fit within the eight walls around her. If she started pacing off steps from one end to the other, she was sure it might take a hundred, maybe more.

“Feel free to make yourself comfortable,” had been Frigga’s last words before she left the room, but (Y/n) was absolutely certain that she could not make herself feel comfortable here any time in the foreseeable future.

All eight walls were lined with dark wooden shelves that were delicately stacked with books. There were no bookends to match the ones her father had at home. There was no need to force any book to remain upright. Every inch of space was being used. The only break from the stacks of texts were for a large golden fireplace directly across from the entrance and for three doors made of a dark wood brushed with intricate gold detailing that matched and blended in with the bookcases. There was a reverence, a superiority, to everything in the place. Each book was placed with care and had clearly been organized just so. The table between the entrance and one of the doors was cluttered with scrolls and texts as if someone had left in a hurry, yet nothing on its surface seemed out of place. The backless stool at the writing desk in the center gave a sense of urgency and purpose to the stack of letters piled in the ornate green box labeled for responses. Even the plush cushions on the pair of armchairs by the fire were utterly regal in design and placement. (Y/n) was scared to touch anything. It all seemed perfect and priceless. She felt as if she were in a museum.

(Y/n) had only been to a museum once thus far in her existence. There weren’t terribly many of them on Asgard. Most people lived long enough to experience most of Asgard’s history, but a small home deep in the valley, away from the capital, played host to a vast collection of artifacts from the Age of the Valkyries. It was a private collection, assembled by a scholar who was employed as one of Asgard’s official historians. He opened his home once every few years, whenever he had added a new piece to his collection. (Y/n) had gone down to visit nearly five decades ago when the man, she believed his name was Felman, announced he had acquired a Valkyrie’s sword. She never found out where he got it, but when (Y/n) saw it she knew it was the genuine article.

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whore-for-cowboys

The Van Der Linde Gang raiding Area 51

Naruto Runners- Sean, Lenny, Jack

Rock Throwers- Kieran, Marybeth, Pearson

Kyles- John

Karens- Karen

Anti-vax kids- Arthur

Sneaking in safely- Sadie, Charles, Tilly

Armed to the teeth- Bill, Micah, Javier

Crack heads- Swanson, Uncle

Will drive you to the raid- Hosea, Abigail

Tries to talk their way past the guards- Dutch, Trelawny

Thinks you're all dumb- Strauss, Molly, Susan

aredhel-irl

Straight FACTS

valtsv

ok but the concept of a rivalry is just so funny. it’s like “i’m literally obsessed with you. you’re the only motherfucker on the planet worth my undivided time and attention. i spend hours planning in detail exactly what i’m going to say and do the next time that we meet. but, like, i fucking hate you.”

aredhel-irl

Idk why this was the funniest thing I've read today but it was. Damn near choked on pop😂😂😂

thevander-lindeganggang

Arthur Morgan x Reader Smut

You love her, son.

Masterlist

Warnings: Jealous Arthur, swallowing

Word count: 4,044

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Bio- 19, KY,USA, art student. Love the Silmarillion/LOTR/Tolkien