Amonrawya - Amon Rawya

Let me get this straight Barnaby. This is a man who was being blackmailed for taking advantage of one of the troubled girls he took in. He admits that he paid the blackmailer. He admits that he was worried about what people would think. He admits that he was going to go meet the blackmailer and accuser.

But he is innocent and she made it up because she's a bad seed (even when she says "don't tell me what John Waverley deserves").

Say, if it was true why would she have told you given you threw her into jail for 84 hours all up, told her John Waverley deserved better and told her he was a good man and you don't ever want to see her again?

We're supposed to ignore all of that and believe he is innocent and take in the moral of the story about how false accusations ruin people's lives on the grounds of *check's notes* John Barnaby likes and respects him. Cool cool cool cool.

Susan did not see Peter in battle for years—arriving to his stand against Jadis almost too late, catching up while he picked himself up from the torn earth, on the other side of the conflict when the remnants of Jadis’ army tried their luck at the Cair. Sure, she knew he fought and killed, just as she did, just as Edmund and Lucy did—and oh, how Susan loathes that last part, but Lucy had been the one to find the first assassin in their halls and there was nothing to be done about it now. There was entirely too much death in their first year, Susan thinks, the fairytale shine of Narnia soon breaking apart and leaving a country and people in desperate need of rest and time behind. It took her days to get the blood out underneath her and Lucy’s fingernails, and she knew Peter had just as bad a time with Edmund next door. With a lump in her throat, Susan wondered often if this was to be the rest of their lives: washing themselves clean of battles that were forced upon them by a world far too big for their hands to hold. But even then, with the bloodied waters between them all, she never truly saw Peter in battle. A slain Maugrim who had about as much a part in his own death as Peter’s shaking sword did, a witch that Susan never saw die, assassins that ended up on the moth-eaten carpets she had found in old storage rooms; things that should give her pause but she simply couldn’t consider for long with all there was to do. They had killed to end up where they were, and Susan knew deep down that they would have to kill to stay, too. Now, standing with her bow held tight and a quiver empty of arrows, a sword at her side she has yet to finish learning how to swing, Susan finds herself in a pocket of tar-slow time. Here, she stands with a muddied hemline and their castle once more under siege—unknown foes, but foes all the same—and there, across the way, with his hair longer than Susan has ever known him to have, Peter lets out a roaring laugh. Rhindon is far out of sight, a glaive taking its place in Peter’s steady hands. Even from afar, Susan feels it in her bones when Peter’s swing launches an enemy’s torn body across the field. There are bodies, horror-frozen faces, the stench of blood and bile. The steps to the Cair will perhaps forever bear the stain of this assault. They have lost people they held dear. Susan has wept enough to fill an ocean. And Peter laughs. With storm-eyes, bloodied tongue, and bared teeth, her older brother wages joyous war.

Two Wizards; One Soul

Little bit of dark!Dumbledore, and mostly rosy wording. I wrote this while listening to a Grindellore playlist on youtube, where I also posted this story. (I don't have the link right now but I will add it later). Nothing inappropriate!

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Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald are the most powerful couple to have lived; the entire Wizarding World lay sprawled at their feet long before any ministry had the chance to act against them. No power remained to oppose either wizard alone, certainly not both.

They revelled in each other, drunk on power and the burning love shared between the two. No one else existed in their world, except them. Magic burst from their fingertips at a whim, and with the Deathly Hallows on their side, nothing could part Gellert and Albus, not even death.

Instead of revealing the world of magic, they infiltrated ever muggle powerhouse on earth, whether it be government or economies - it all fell to their influence, and without realising it, the world of the muggles came under the rule of Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

Many attempted to challenge them, rebellions that were crushed before the spark could become flame. But these new rulers were not cruel, only interested in peace and the end of fear. Any who disagreed possessed little power to do anything about it.

The two men, physically so different, bore twin souls, entwined by a searing, deadly love that overruled everything. Defied every possibility, spit in the face of doubt, and smothered the idea of the word impossible. Together, there was nothing Albus and Gellert could not achieve.

*

Dark eyes glittering, Dumbledore met the eyes of his lover. No. The eyes of his soulmate. What other word could describe them? From the moment they met, love blossomed with every word and stolen glance. He used to fear its burn, before he gave in and relished the power.

Grindelwald looked back at him, pale hair glinting in the moonlight. To anyone else, the apparent blankness of his face would put doubt in their mind; but Dumbledore, who knew him better than anyone, saw the bright fire flickering in his gaze. Those eyes, contrasting, clashing, but ultimately the same, spoke to Albus on a level nothing else could.

Magic crackled around them, the very air alive with their energy. Reflected in his soulmate's eyes, Albus saw themselves, and longed to stay there forever. The world could burn to ash, and he would not care, only if Gellert stayed too.

"My dear," came his voice, low, rough, laced with the chill of his homeland winds, yet still igniting fire in Albus' gut, "the day is fading."

Grappling for air to respond, Dumbledore unconciously stepped closer. "Time to go?"

Grindelwald's hand cupped his face, stroking over the trimmed beard for a moment. "Time to go."

With one last look at the smouldering ruins of MACUSA, they vanished, closer in embrace than any human could ever hope to be spiritually.

Their love, though hot and damaging to the touch, would change the world.

In fact, it already had.

This image, that’s it, that’s the post

i sent you omens and all kinds of signs, i taught you melodies, poems and rhymes

lord huron - the yawning grave

The girls are lost in time and space. The girls are going to the mountains and running free forever. The girls are waiting by the river. The girls are back from the edge. The girls are not dead yet. The girls are waiting til they turn to bones. The girls are long lost souls in the wilderness alone. The girls are reading your letter in the morning by the lake. The girls are dreaming most every night that they never left you. The girls are(n’t) pushing daisies. The girls are going to the ends of earth.

Mourning Bucky After His Death in 1945

(Inspired by^ this channel is wonderful, their ambiences always get my head in the right place for writing: beware, angst)

You got the news late, when the Commandos came back from the mission...and there was one missing. They didn't need to say a thing - the gap in their ranks, and the look on Steve's face, said it all.

Being a nurse, you couldn't stop to feel the pain or even really process it. But once the rush ended, and you stepped into the quiet street, everything fell on you at once. Tears poured, and your heart felt like it could burst. Bucky usually picked you up when your breaks came. His absence hit you like a truck.

Instead, you walked along the street in a thin army uniform and shivered all the way. A bitter wind blew through Brooklyn this time of year, but the cold you felt had little to do with the weather.

Somehow, your feet brought you to the old docks where Bucky worked through the summers. That was years ago, now, and seemed like a different life. You couldn't help but smile, recalling the laughter and choice language that used to fill the air.

Once, when you began to realise the full extent of your feelings, you came to the docks and watched him for the whole day. Instead of hiding away how you felt, you relished in it.

Sixteen was a hell of an age to fall in love, especially in the thirties. But reciprocated love...it blossomed and bloomed so beautifully. With Steve, your brother, you and Bucky built a life together.

It was always Steve who talked about their future...without him. The sickly boy never expected to live past thirty, and, despite how painful the idea was, neither did they.

Never in a million years did you imagine Bucky going first.

You couldn't hold it anymore. The sobs ripped out, and you sank to the ground by the water. One hand tightly clasped the other, a cold, glinting ring pressing into your skin. A promise, a commitment...now nothing but a memory. The life you talked about, planned so dreamily, even in the face of the war, gone. Destroyed in an instant.

Deep hatred and a desire for vengance reared its head in you. Bucky always said you and Steve were too alike. But the decision already cemented itself in your mind.

When Steve crashed the Valkyrie, no one was left behind. Two days before, you had vanished on a mission in Switzerland - presumed dead. He had nothing, not even Peggy, really, to keep him on Earth.

Little did he know, that the two sweethearts had been reunited. And Hydra would make good use of them both.

EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP SCIENTISTS AT THE SCHMIDT OCEAN INSTITUTE HAVE FOOTAGE OF A LIVE COLOSSAL SQUID FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

🦑‼️🦑‼️🦑‼️🦑‼️🦑‼️🦑

That was the moment when my heart broke into pieces, seriously no, Jones’ face, just no *crying*