and with that i have exhausted my resources for the day

100 Dialogue Prompts: Part 4

It’s amazing to see how much we can create together, my amigos. Here’s part 4.

  1. “Look, I might be evil but even I have standards.”
  2. “Do your parents know you’re dating Death?” “No, I promised we wouldn’t get back together after he broke up with me the first time.”
  3. “Wait why am I naked and covered in cheese?”
  4. “Good god, that cake is fuckin stale and dry mate!!” “Just like how you are recently? Gee, thanks.”
  5. "There is always time for a high-five.”
  6. “Karen, what would ever posses you to find me here.”
  7. “Oh my god, put that man down! Come on, let’s go get you some REAL food.”
  8. “A demonic sugar glider?”
  9. “People always say they never thought they would be here but I absolutely did.”
  10. “And I thought I was a bit weird. But you! You are insane!”
  11. “So your hair knows kung-fu? Ha, that’s nothing! MY hair knows HAIR-ATE!” (You know, as in karate) (This used to be an insider between me and a friend…)
  12. “One day, darling, you and I are going to conquer the Universe not just our world.”
  13. “Did you seriously think they wouldn’t notice when their humans went missing?!”
  14. “Well, maybe next time you should consider that not everyone wants to be woken up at four in the morning by a- what IS that, anyway?!”
  15. “Now, how exactly did your foot get stuck in the barrel?”
  16. “I hope you realize what you’re doing. This forest never ends, you know that, right?”
  17. “You can’t just kill someone and then make it all better by saying sorry!”
  18. “Why the fuck is my cat levitating?!” “He said he wanted to feel what flying was”
  19. “You’re trying to tell me you killed three men…with a microphone?”
  20. “Hang on, are you a John Wick fan?”
  21. “IT’S TWO IN THE MORNING!” “And?” “ I have a strict no murder rule until eight. Call me then.”
  22. “I did realize you were going to be naked the whole time”
  23. “Ok, I understand you like animals, but you can’t just bring a tiger into the apparent without asking!”
  24. “I…I didn’t want you to find out like this. I’m so sorry.”
  25. “OH MY GOD CATHERINE! I JUST SAW A NARWHAL! I’M TELLING YOU, I SAW A FREAKIN’ WHALE UNICORN!”
  26. “I gotta go, I left my toaster in the oven!
  27. "Why is there a gaggle of fancy buisness men on my front lawn?”
  28. “Can you please stop referring to me as ____! That’s not my name!” “Then what is?” “I don’t know!”
  29. *Sarcastic* “Yeah, sure. I won’t at all mind being your footslave.” “Oh, goody! I knew you’d agree!” “Wait, what?”
  30. “When are you going to give up on this whole ‘evil’ thing?” “When it stops being so much fun!”
  31. “You didnt say to KILL the man!” “WELL I DIDNT SAY NOT TOO”
  32. “Mum, Dad… I’m gay.” “That’s nice, honey, but now is not the right time!”
  33. “Take a look at your soul and consider your life choices! Oh wait, that’s right! You don’t fucking have a soul!” “Oh, god, just go drown in a bathtub of syrup why don’t ya?”
  34. “I kindly ask you to please quit making your heart stop. It’s creeping me out!” “So… Y-You were sleeping in a coffin” “Yeah I’m used to it” “Are you a vampire or what?! How can someone get used to sleep in a coffin?” “No I’m used to sleep I never said that I’m used to sleep in a freaking coffin!”
  35. “Darling I love you, more than I can ever express in words…. But please stop teaching chickens necromancy.”
  36. “I wanted to know why you stole souls, not your melodramatic backstory…”
  37. “I really wish that old white man would stop rubbing his nipples at me”
  38. “You know it is written: Do not summon Satan, right ?”
  39. “Look around, what is this?” “My room?” “No, this is pathetic.”
  40. “I’ve been a professor for 20 years, and yet still my greatest secret hasn’t been revealed–I can’t read.”
  41. “Our souls don’t belong in these 'human’ bodies, every one of us is implanted here from another galaxy, and this has been the case for a thousand years. No one knows what 'actual humans’ are like without us inhabiting them.”
  42. “Did you just create a portal in time and space to pull another version of yourself into this world so I have to deal with another annoying idiot?” “No but thanks for the idea.”
  43. “You’re bleeding?!” “Nah, I’m frolicing in a field of flowers - yes I’m bleeding!”
  44. “Let me get this straight. I tell you that I make a decent omelette and you somehow equate that to qualification for piloting a spaceship?”
  45. “It’s the weekend! Let’s hit the town! See a concert, redo our wardrobes, get high, start a crime ring, I don’t know.”
  46. “Keep running, you’ve only got 4HP!”
  47. “This is clearly your first time. Stop screaming already, you’ll wake the neighbors!”
  48. “Has anyone seen the outdoors?” “What the fuck is an outdoors?”
  49. “Why do I feel like this again, I thought we were done with this?”
  50. “Look, as much as I like to hang out with you, I’ve gotta go and save the earth. Toodles!”
  51. “Have you seen?… oh shit”
  52. “Two questions: one, how many matches do you have, and two, where do you keep your socks?”
  53. “Because fuck surveys, that’s why!”
  54. “Stop yelling out the window or the koalas will rip your face off!”
  55. “I guess when I heard 'Night of Debauchery’… I didn’t picture muffins on your pajamas.”
  56. “Honey, you can’t keep throwing people to the pit of pain and despair just because they don’t like choc mint ice cream.”
  57. “Oh, no honey, put that back…”
  58. “It’s going to be too late, you know. It’s always too late.”
  59. “Hey, so, uh… I’m in trouble…” “What did you do this time?” “I got stranded in Wales….. again…”
  60. “OK, but… how do we get the dog out of a hole in space in time exactly?”
  61. “Aren’t people supposed to grow instead of shrink ?”
  62. “Wait. You’re aroused?” “Why would that surprise you?” “It does on account of you being covered in blood. Wipe that smile off your face. You look like a cat in heat.”
  63. "I pay your taxes”
  64. “No, ____. We did not raise our hamster like this.”
  65. “You can’t run from your own shadow(s), what makes you think you can run from theirs?”
  66. “You adopted… a dog?” “Mate, that’s not a dog.”
  67. “And at this moment, he decided to punch himself in the face.” “Narrator, listen, I know you’ve been with me my whole life, but you’re a huge jerk.”
  68. “Why didn’t you tell me it was a portal BEFORE we ended up here?”
  69. “Is that…the Mona Lisa.” “…Yes…” “What did I say to you about stealing priceless artifacts!?” “…That I had to take you with me next time.” “Exactly!”
  70. “Yes, I agree, magic is pretty cool. But did you really have to use it for THIS?”
  71. “Despite the fact that was epic, you’re still suspended”
  72. “Chill, dad it’s not what you think it is!” “Well it looks like you’re making out with the demon your grandma banished to cellar…WHY IS HE IN YOUR ROOM?”
  73. “If you truly love me you’ll let me-OH FUCKING HELL DID YOU JUST STAB ME!?”
  74. “Spoon”
  75. “What began as a conflict over the transfer of consciousness from flesh to machines escalated into a war which has decimated a Million worlds.The ___ and the ___ have all but exhausted the the resources of a galaxy in their struggle for domination. Both sides, now crippled beyond repair, the remnants of their armies continue to battle on ravaged planets, their hatred fueled by over four thousand years of total war. This is a fight to the death. For each side, the only acceptable outcome is…“
  76. ”… I’m going back to bed. You brought it here, you can deal with the mammoth yourself.“
  77. "Is the food supposed to be moving?”
  78. “You mean to tell me that in the two minutes I was gone,  you bombed a minor country,  got married to a stripper,  and assassinated a world leader?!”
  79. “Is that a unicorn???? EATING MY BEEF JERKY?!”
  80. “Do I get to dream about you again tonight?”
  81. “Well now I have to change clothes AGAIN!”
  82. “All of this was because of a… OF A PLUSHIE?!” “Well…Yeah?” “Great, how are we going to get out of jail now?!”
  83. “So…you gonna tell me why my brother is upside down and why you’re wearing my purple thong?”
  84. “Did you really have to burn down another Cracker Barrel?”
  85. “Sir, that’s impossible, you can’t do that.” “IS THAT A FUCKING CHALLENGE?!?!”
  86. “We need to invade Portugal.” “…Sure, why not?”
  87. “Did you divide by zero?! YOU’RE GOING TO KILL US ALL”
  88. “Stand down, Milady, this is a matter between gentlemen with mustaches.”
  89. “Next time you get arrested I am NOT paying your bail” “That’s a lie and you know it.” “….”
  90. “I thought you were dead.” “So did I”
  91. “John dont flush the dog down the toilet”
  92. “What did I say again about resurrecting dictators??”
  93. “Cucumbers are NOT pets… what do you mean, you ate him??”
  94. “Are you and God seriously fighting right now? And what happened to Satan?”
  95. “Are ferrets supposed to be blue??”
  96. “I’m the protagonist? Well I guess that explains why I look like about a thousand other people.”
  97. “Why do I do this to myself?”
  98. “Stop eating your tortilla chips with ketchup. It’s unattractive.”
  99. “How do you eat an entire cheese wheel in one sitting?”
  100. “Why are God and Satan moving in with us?”

Let’s make one more ‘100 Dialogue Prompts’ list together. Leave a comment with your prompt below. Don’t forget the double quotes “”. And as always, only one prompt per amigo! Also, here is your random Dutch word of the day: pindakaas

anonymous asked:

How would you go about making a bullet diary/journal??

So you wanna make a bullet journal?

The best part about bullet journals is that they’re completely customizable and thus unique to every individual! Here’s a general guide on how to go about doing just that. If you were looking for a short answer I’m sorry

1. The Bare Minimum

First and foremost, you’re gonna need a pen and a notebook. Some popular notebook choices here in the studyblr community include the Leuchtterm1917, the Moleskine, and the Muji notebook. I personally use the Leuchtterm for my bullet journal but one of my favourite places to get cheap and cute notebooks is the dollar store! When looking for a notebook you may also want to consider the ruling of the notebooks such as plain, dotted, and ruled. For pens, anything that works for you, works. You may want to consider something that flows well but doesn’t bleed through the paper. Honestly, that’s all you really need to start!

2. Decoration

The most fun part imo! Here, you can incorporate all the optional supplies you might want for your bujo such as washi tape, stickers, sticky notes, photographs, printed pictures, magazine cut outs, and more! You can also use a variety of mediums in it as well such as ink, marker, paint, pencil crayon, etc. When I started my bullet journal, I only decorated it by drawing in it and adding watercolour accents. I didn’t start including washi tape and printed photos until recently. But of course, you don’t even have to decorate yours if you don’t want to!

3. Set Up

So you’ve got everything you need to start, what now? Well, it’s up to you! Ask yourself what it is you want to get out of your bullet journal. There are a lot of things you can do with yours but what’s important is find out what works for you. If you feel you might not use an index or reference a key a lot, you don’t need to to have one! Personally, when I got mine, I went right into it and started my first weekly spread. Some common things people include in their’s are:

  • an index
    • keep track of your pages!
  • a key or legend
    • explain what symbols you use!
  • a year overview or future log
    • an effective way to plan out things way in advance!
  • monthly spreads
    • outline the events occuring in that month! often seen in the form of a calendar.
  • weekly spreads
    • keep track of daily tasks and events!
  • habit trackers
    • record various habits such as water intake, hours of sleep, meals, work outs, etc.
  • lists
    • pretty self explanatory. list books to read, songs you like, movies to watch, etc. 
  • anything else that you might want!

What’s important is that your bullet journal works for you. Don’t feel as though you need something in yours just because you see someone else with it. As long as it’s something relevant and helpful to you, great!

Advice, Tips & Tricks

  1. Let go! Make mistakes! Learn! Grow! Don’t let blank pages in pretty notebooks restrict you, let it set your imagination free
  2. Try new things! Experimenting in your bujo can be so much fun and you might be surprised with what you create.
  3. You don’t have to make a spread every week or every day. Sometimes bullet journalling can be exhausting. That’s okay. Take care of yourself, friend.
  4. Plan things out in pencil first if formatting is something important to you.
  5. I know I’ve said this how many times already but because it really is important I’m saying it again! Do what works for you!! And what you actually want to do. 

Want to know more?

Here’s a few resources that might be helpful!

You may also want to check out some of my favourite bujos for inspiration:

You can tell it’s a good Iron Man comic if Tony is naked and crying, possibly in the rain, because he thinks none of his friends love him. – Sineala
— 

Other signs of a good Iron Man comic:

- Tony thinks about how everyone would be better off if he was dead.

- Tony does a heartwarming charity-type thing that involves not just giving money but also time and energy (create and support a battered women’s shelter, visit small children in the hospital, etc.)

- Tony shuts himself in his lab/workshop and doesn’t come out (or sleep or eat) for multiple days. (Steve, Happy Hogan, Pepper, or Jarvis stopping by to go “WTF, Tony, eat some food and take a nap!” is optional, but most opt to include it)

- Tony has built a shiny new toy new piece of technology. He’s going to test it himself, right now. He already has ideas about how to improve it.

- Somebody else has designed/built a shiny new toy. Tony already has ideas about how to improve it.

- A piece of Tony’s technology comes to life. It loves him very much. It also wants to destroy him.

- Someone wants to steal Tony’s tech and use it for nefarious purposes/already has stolen it and is already using it for nefarious purposes. This is all Tony’s fault and he must stop them at any cost.

- Tony is suffering from some kind of injury/illness/other health issue (heart condition is the most common but far from the only life-threatening thing he’s suffered from). He puts on the armor and fights the villain anyway/puts on the expensive business attire and does the important Stark Industries-related thing anyway. Then he collapses from exhaustion/illness/bloodloss/concussion/the tech implanted in his chest that keeps him alive running out of power/a heart attack.

- Tony is suffering from the above-mentioned serious medical condition. He keeps it a secret from almost everyone so as not to upset/worry them and/or reveal his Iron Man identity.

- Tony is dealing with a serious personal problem of some kind. He keeps it secret from almost everyone so as not to upset/worry them and/or because he’s ashamed of it/afraid of their disapproval. It is his responsibility to fix it ALL BY HIMSELF.

- Tony is dealing with a dangerous threat to the entire Avengers team/entire city/entire planet/entire universe. He keeps it secret from almost everyone (including people who really REALLY ought to be told about it ASAP because it directly involves them) so as not to upset/worry them and/or because he knows they’ll disapprove of his methods for dealing with it/he doesn’t want them to have to dirty their hands dealing with it. It is his responsibility to fix it ALL BY HIMSELF.

- One of the other Avengers/one of Tony’s employees is dealing with a personal problem or superhero-related problem of some kind. Tony wants to make sure they know that they don’t have to deal with it alone.

- Tony performs a Grand Romantic Gesture for his current love interest and/or performs a similar Grand Gesture (ex: “I’ll give away my beloved childhood home to Luke Cage for a dollar for the good of the Avengers”/“You dropped your shield in the ocean so I used my billionaire resources to search the entire ocean for it in my spare time”/etc.) for an Avengers teammate

- Tony like someone/thinks he owes someone something/feels bad for someone, so he immediately offers them a job with Stark Industries, buys them a house/car/fancy piece of tech/etc., or invites them to join the Avengers, even though he’s only just met them in this very issue.

- Something bad happens involving SI or his tech. Tony blames himself for causing it/not preventing it/not forseeing it and having a plan for it/existing.

- Something bad happens involving the Avengers. Tony blames himself for causing it/not preventing it/not forseeing it and having a plan for it/existing.

- Something bad happens in his general vicinity and/or that even tangentially involves him in any way. Tony blames himself for causing it/not preventing it/not forseeing it and having a plan for it/existing.

anonymous asked:

So I got a question about the sparing and padding post that you recently made. I like to read Assassin's Creed fanfictions that shows Altair (the main character) in his early years, which often includes his training to be an assassin. In most of these fics they focus more on the sword and knife fighting but some does include the hand to hand fighting too (without protection). So realistically what kind of injuries would someone training without any kind of protection should expect?

Death.

I’m only sort of kidding, because I know the kinds of fanfics you’re talking about and like every writer trying to be edgy, they have them spar without protections and with live weapons. There’s a reason why we use practice weapons during training and in sparring matches, where rules are in play. 

Now, the Assassin’s Creed variant of the Hashashin live for that super edgy, very stupid state of supposed badass where one must constantly prove their worth so I totally believe they’d do it. I’d also believe this would lead to an incredibly high turnover with their recruits, which is not sustainable in the real world.

I’m going to point out here that the “Asassins” or Hashashin were real. That’s the etymology for the word. The suicide jumping is also real and, instead of landing on bales of hay, they jumped to their deaths. There are a couple of stories about that piece of the order. The real Assassins were religious fanatics. These stories are not so much a testament to the quality of their training so much as their fanaticism.

For what it’s worth, the Knights Templar were also real and a prominent militant order up until they were excommunicated by the Pope.

The history of both groups is actually far more interesting than the Assassin’s Creed franchise. This is a persistent problem with the games, they invariably include historical figures who are far, far, far more interesting, competent, and badass than we’re presented with. If you encounter a historical personage in an Assassin’s Creed game, remind yourself of this simple fact: the real one is about 200x more awesome. It’s this weird inverse where the reality consistently surpasses the fiction. (Black Flag, I have my eye on you. Honestly, how do you mess up Stede Bonnet, The Gentleman Pirate? And that’s the least of your sins!)

The more serious answer is that unless you’re training with weapons or making an active effort to hit each other, in the real world we don’t train using pads on the regular. The pads are so you can essentially go full out against another person under controlled circumstances and then come back for training tomorrow. If your students are constantly getting injured that hampers their ability to train, then they fall behind and you turn out fewer fighters. Injuries on the training floor should not be a common occurrence.

Barring accidents and mishaps, if you’re simply practicing your techniques on your own or against a wooden dummy then all you should expect afterwards is standard muscle pain (maybe some bruising). The same should be true for practice with human opponents (which is not sparring) and sparring itself.

Anything else is a waste of time, energy, and resources.

Remember, injuries take time to heal and if you’re prepping someone to go out and murder that’s time you don’t have.

In the land of “edgy training”, try to remember that you want evil as opposed to incompetence.

The vast majority of training, like the kinds you listed, are edgy incompetence. They don’t serve a purpose other than sadism and your students don’t learn anything. Unfortunately, cruelty on its own doesn’t teach much (the Spartans were abusive jerks, but their methods worked). The beat up, abuse them, cruelty methodology simply doesn’t work unless you understand the kinds that work and, from a storytelling perspective, it also isn’t interesting.

The kind of “edgy training” you see in most stories is a round of Kinder’s First. People mimicking what Hollywood has taught them or what they’ve seen in fiction elsewhere. The assumption in this line of thinking is that the more brutal the training then the more dangerous the fighter. This isn’t true. More importantly, there are much better ways to sadistically mess with your students’ (and audience’s) heads.

1) Depending on your teaching style, you may murder a student on occasion to motivate the others. However, the control over who lives or dies remains with the instructor because the instructor is god. If a student gets a bright idea to kill another student without your approval, kill them.

2) Live weapons should never be used by students on each other except as a graduation gift. The graduation gift being only one of them will be accepted into the Order, so prove your worth. (In the real world, you’ll probably need them both but in fantasy land… why not?)

3) Use the threat of death to keep your students from getting comfortable, make good on this promise every so often. Bring in an established warrior to kill off your best student in demonstration to the others. (Why? It reminds them at no point are they safe.)

4) Encourage your students to break the rules, punish them severely if caught. (Playing favorites? Punish them more, push them harder.)

5) Limit their resources. Make them fight each other for their food. Survival isn’t a given. It’s earned.

6) In the early days, force them into physical exhaustion. Keep them up late. Wake them early. Limit their sleep to the minimum of hours they need to stay functional. Tired minds are easier to manipulate.

7) Force them into direct conflict with each other. There’s never a solid baseline they can achieve, and they’re always watching over their shoulder. Furthermore they never become loyal to each other. They are only loyal to you. Appeasing their teacher is their only means of survival.

8) Got a problem child who won’t play along? Don’t make an example of them. No, no, make them your new favorite. That’ll turn the others on them, and they’ll solve the problem for you.

9) Change the goalposts regularly, so they never know what to expect.

10) You’ve got someone who doesn’t want to participate? Say okay. When others move to join them, punish those students viciously instead. Do it in front of the class and for everyone to see. (This is called: creating heroes and wrecking them.)

11) Have your students inform on each other.

If this is starting to sound like abuse, well.. you’re right. It is. It also very successful in terms of achieving its goal. The goal is attacking the student’s perceptions, beliefs, and their understanding of the world while reshaping them into who you want them to be.

Real cruelty is clever and inventive. It is also patient. Like a good interrogator, this teacher will leave their students so they’re never sure of exactly what the teacher wants or how to please them. They give them hope, then snatch it away. Someone who excels at social manipulation will use this position of power to maneuver their students feelings and their expectations, indirectly point them at certain targets by stoking negative feeling such as jealousy, paranoia, anger, or fear. In the other hand, those rare moments of kindness offered will ensure gratitude. When a good teacher wants their uncooperative students to band together, they make themselves the target the students need to fight against. The abusive teacher does the opposite. They ensure they are the only boat in the storm and turn their charges on each other. They make sure their students never know what to expect. This includes going hot and cold. They change up to batter expectations, handle some problems themselves and let the students handle others.

An experienced teacher will have seen plenty of student characters, all the versions you can imagine. A good one will break the problem kids to bridle without them ever realizing it happened, and they exit the experience more hardcore than the ones who invested themselves honestly. The purpose of “brutal training” isn’t to churn out a better warrior. It’s to break the individual down so you can reshape their mind and ensure the weapon you’ve created is loyal to you. That level of conditioning is very difficult to break. You’ve re-oriented their entire training into status positions they’ve fought for and earned. This training becomes a foundation for their identity, and you’re not going to get it out of them.

So, before invoking the trope, choose wisely and understand the purpose for what it is. Actively abusive training is done with the express intent to recondition and brainwash. More than that, in competent hands, it’ll snap the “rebellious teenage hero” contingent like twigs.

As a member of a fanatical cult, Altair is a direct example of this sort of training writ large.

-Michi

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‘Celtic’ Witchcraft

I remember in my early days trying to find resources on historical Celtic witchcraft. I wanted to learn about the witchcraft from the places I descended from. So, I searched for answers. I read book after book on the supposed witch practices found in Wales, Ireland, and Scotland (Raymond Buckland never steered me so wrong, and that’s really saying something). However, I remember feeling…unsatisfied. It didn’t seem historical or based in any pre-Gardnerian lineage. It seemed like Wiccan influenced witchcraft based in Gaelic and Gallic mythology. However, the authors of the books were claiming that it was truly historical and traditional. Lo and behold, I was correct. So then came the question “What is historical ‘celtic’ witchcraft and where can I find it?” 

First of all, there is no one Celtic witchcraft. The word ‘Celtic’ applies to both Gaels and Gauls (though it’s said that Gauls aren’t included in that term at all, but for now, we’ll use it). There are six nations covered under ‘Celt’; Wales, Ireland, Scotland, Brittany, The Isle of Man, and Cornwall. Any witchcraft that originates from those lands can be considered ‘Celtic’, but the use of that term can create confusion and misinformation. Though they may look similar at times, and though they are all witchcraft, they are not the same. Methods changed from environment to environment. The witchery has always been based in the Land. 

I’ll briefly describe the practices and lore found in each land, but it is by no means exhaustive. 

Cornwall

In the circles of traditional witchcraft, Cornish witchery has been made very clear and accessible with much thanks to the wonderful Gemma Gary. Cornwall has perhaps one of the strongest histories of magical practice out of the Celtic Fringe. Not only witches, but Pellars (cunning folk), were a large part of the culture. Folk magic, the basis of both witch and pellar magic alike, ran rampant through Cornwall. The Pellars of Cornwall held a very strong likeness to witches, so much so that some folklorists consider them the same. The Pellars made it a point to have a wide range of services available to their customer. That meant that they would both curse and cure. The magic of Cornwall often came in the form of small spell bags filled with either powders, folded written charms, or other magical ingredient. These bags did a number of things, from love conjuring, curse breaking, and spirit banishing to healing, luck magic, and finding lost possessions. According to Cornish witch lore, a witch’s power fluctuates with the seasons, and it was in the spring that a witch’s power was renewed. The different pellars and witches of Cornwall would also clash through reputation of power. Though they clashed, the witches of Cornwall would also gather for their sabbats, which were a strange thing to behold to outsiders. Witches, both young and old, would dance with the Devil around fires, faster and closer to the flames with each pass, and never be singed. The ability to spontaneously disappear is spoken of (which may suggest flying). Black animals, especially black cats, are often spoke of in Cornish witch lore. The association with witch and toad is especially strong here, and it can be seen as a familiar, a shapeshifting witch, a charm, or an indicator of a witch. 

Wales

Witchcraft that comes from Wales can be particularly tricky to find. The term ‘Welsh Witch’ has been popular since the early days of Stevie Nicks. This makes it notoriously difficult to find any historical references on actual Welsh witches. In actuality, there were two kinds of magical practitioner in Wales. The first was a wizard (known as a cunning man in England) and the second was a witch. Wizards were very popular and plenty in number in Wales. Their practice was based mainly in healing the ill and livestock. They also did favors, like giving love potions and undoing witch spells. One Welsh tale, however, tells about a conjuror who is unable to undo a witch’s spell on a butter churn, so the farmer must turn to another witch to reverse it. Welsh witches were thought to have great power. They were able to raise the dead, curse their enemies, and according to older legends, shape shift and fly. Observing the myth of a sorceress named Cerridwen and the legends of Morgan le Fey and Nimue, there comes a general idea of what a witch was in Wales and Welsh legend. The idea of someone brewing potions and poisons was most definitely associated with witches, but more broadly, elements of water and weather seem to have importance. Interaction with the fairies also holds a very strong importance in Welsh craft. Walking between worlds, particularly this world and the world of the Fairy (Avalon, anyone?), was a skill that many wizards, witches, and heroes of Welsh myth acquired. All in all, the witchcraft in Wales is quite similar to the witchcraft found in England, as is the interaction between Wizard (cunning folk or Wise Men and Women) and Witch. 

Brittany 

In Brittany, a very strong fear and dislike for witches is found that is unlike Wales. Witches in Brittany were thought to be many in number. The legends suggest that they targeted farmers especially, making sure always to turn milk sour and spoil butter. They were also accounted to be particularly dangerous and vicious. Any man who watched their Sabbat would either not be found, found dead, or found scared witless and unable to speak. The witches of Brittany, however, were also sought out by the townsfolk. Indeed, there were witch doctors to fix their issues, but the witches were sought out for love spells and favors. Witch-cats are also mentioned, which could be either a reference to familiars or shapeshifting. Most strangely, Breton witches are said to very rarely cast spells on their targets and instead cast spells on the animals and possessions of the target. Every village is said to have a local witch. Some villages are said to be completely filled with witches. Many of them carry cane-like sticks with which they cast their spells. They were also said to be skilled in spells to find things, like lost objects and buried treasure. The line between village conjuror/wizard and witch is difficult to draw here. They may choose to help or harm, depending on their inclinations. For that reason, they still hold a strong reputation in Brittany, despite it being a place noted for its skepticism. 

The Isle of Man

On the Isle of Man, both witches and magicians were an important part of the environment. The first thing you’ll find on the witches from the Isle is that they practiced much magic involving the weather and the sea. Magic was used to help the fishermen catch more fish, make sure the winds were good for travel, and settle storms at sea. A charm was made by a witch and given to a sailor that stored the winds inside. When he was at sea and in need of a gust, he would use the charm. Interestingly, the line between witch and cunning person seemed to blur here. Cunning folk were known as Charmers and Witch Doctors. Witches, however, were employed when needed. There was a perceived difference between the magic of different kinds of practitioners. Do not be mistaken, though. The fear and dislike of witches still existed. Many farmers feared the wrath of witches, especially when their crops failed and their cattle died. To reveal the witch responsible, they would burn whatever died. The person in pain the next day was thought responsible. As throughout all of Europe, witches were thought to have gained their power either through birth or through the Devil’s grace. However, witches were looked upon differently in the Isle than other places. Because of its long associations with magic, it had many kinds of magical practitioners and witches were not always considered to be the most powerful of them. Magicians, who practiced an art to compel and work with spirits and powers beyond other kinds of practitioners, were revered. They were usually compared to the image of Manannán Mac Lir, considered both a sea god and a powerful magician. The ability to fly and walk between worlds was also attributed to the witches and magicians of the Isle of Man, most likely due to the latter. 

Scotland

Witchcraft flourished in Scotland perhaps as much, if not more than, in Wales. Scotland’s witch trials are famous, and perhaps the most famous among them was Isobel Gowdie. In her free confession, she detailed a story that most labeled imaginary. She spoke of fairies, elf bolts, curses, shapeshifting, flying, and lewd activities with the Devil. When comparing it with the confession of Alison Pearson, another Scottish witch she had never met, a Scottish fairy tradition begins to appear. Alison also details stories of going under the hills to meet the fairies, as well as them making elf bolts. More trials begot more folklore and legends. Stories of witches working the weather to destroy crops, sink ships, and cause havoc spread. More tales of a Man in Black appearing to future-witches and witches alike began to run rampant. John Fian, a male witch, was famed for his botched love spell, teaching witchcraft, harshly bewitching people whom he didn’t like, and attempting to sink the fleet of King James VI with a storm. Much of Scotland’s witchcraft was influenced by Gaelic legend and myth. Scotland’s witchery was not Gaelic alone, however. Norse invaders came and brought their magic with them. In Orkney, a Scottish Isle filled with witch history, the Vikings came often. Their language and culture mingled with the Scots’. Soon, cunning women were referred to as Spae Wives. The word Spae comes from the Old Norse spá,which means ‘prophesize’These spae wives told fortunes, created charms, and protected against foul magical play. The witches of Scotland, however, proved a match for them. They killed cattle, cursed babies, and brought general havoc with them. 

Ireland

Historical Irish witchcraft is perhaps the most difficult to find out of all the Celtic regions, and this is for a few different reasons. The first being that many lineages of Wicca have taken Irish mythology and applied it to the Gardnerian influenced witchcraft that they have. Many times when the word ‘Celtic Witchcraft’ or “Celtic Wicca’ comes up, this is what is being referred to. The second reason that it’s difficult to find is because the witch trials in Ireland are few and far between. The trials barely touched Ireland, amounting to a whopping 4 trials. The generally accepted reason for this is that Ireland was extraordinarily lax with its witchcraft laws. Most times, using witchcraft against another person’s possessions or livestock resulted in prison time. Only by harming another magically would a witch be executed. Interestingly, many people took this as a sign that Irish witches were generally less severe than their other Celtic counterparts. Florence Newton, the famed witch of Youghal, put the assumption to rest. When a woman refused to give her any food, she kissed her on the street. The woman became extremely ill and began to see visions of Florence pricking her with pins and needles. Florence also kissed the hand of a man in jail. He became very ill, cried out her name, and died. In a Northern Ireland trial, eight women were accused of causing horrific visions and poltergeists in the home of a woman. The ability to create illusions is a trait attributed to fairies in Gaelic myth. Those fairies are said to have taught the witches their skills in both Ireland and Scotland. Irish witches were said to turn themselves into animals, especially hares and crows, to spy on their neighbors. They would also place spells on those whom they wish in their animal form. They were also said to have used bundles of yarrow and branches of elder to fly. These sticks they flew upon, before brooms, were known as ‘horses’. They were said to fly up out of the chimney of their own homes. A tale of witches using red caps to fly also appears in Irish lore. This is another example of their strong ties to the fairies. The similarity between Irish and Scottish witchery has been noted, as they both have strong ties to Gaelic lore.

Witchcraft from the Celtic lands is a complex and unique thing, changing between each of the six nations. To lump them under a single title would be to lose the subtleties and differences between each. Saying that Irish witchcraft and Welsh witchcraft are the same is a fool’s lie. Saying that they are similar is true. Shapeshifting, flying, fairies, storms, and charms are found in each. But they are different.
It isn’t a bad thing when the myths of these lands are paired with Wicca or Wiccan influenced witchcraft. However, the historical practices from those places mustn’t be overwritten. 

The “Just the thought of Team Cap walking all over Tony makes me want to trash my room, I just want unashamed, biased, pro-Tony quality content, is that too much to ask??” inspired ficlet I’ve been holding back for a while:

Bitterness ahead, guys. Not Team Cap friendly. Nor is it particularly deep or rational. I just wanted to get a couple of thoughts out of my head. Basically Tony is done being the team’s sugar daddy, only it comes to light in a very roundabout way. 


“When are my arrows gonna be fixed anyways?” Clint grumbles, rubs a hand over his sore shoulder. The one that wouldn’t have gotten injured, had his shot hit the target it was supposed to. Which it should have, his aim had been fine. The problem were the arrows. Someone must have screwed up somewhere in the production because they weren’t perfectly balanced.

They’re sitting in the conference room at the (mostly) restored compound. Tony is tapping away on his StarkPad, not even bothering to look up. He must have felt the questioning glances and noticed the silence, but he still doesn’t react.

Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn’t want to encourage the tension between them, things are bad enough as it is. If only Tony would put in some effort as well, instead of going out of his way to antagonise them, maybe they could make some actual progress.

“Yo, Stark!” Clint snaps, voice reaching that biting sharpness he reserves specially for the billionaire. “I’m talking to you!”

Tony shows no outward reaction, which is strange to see. Back when they first came back, he used to move at all times, sharp and erratic, never staying still. Steve shakes his head at their unnecessary power play.

Tony answers before he has the chance to reprimand them though. “How would I know?” he asks, a brief frown flittering across his face as he scribbles something down onto the tablet.

The outraged look on Clint’s face tells everyone present that this meeting won’t get back on track any time soon. It’s understandable, really. Clint has been forced to fight three battles with faulty equipment and frankly, the lack of concern Tony is showing for his team mates’ safety is nothing short of callous. Steve knows things haven’t been good between them but this is the first time he wonders if things could really be so bad, that Tony would hold necessary equipment back on purpose.

It’s a terrible thought, but try as he might, Steve isn’t able to shake it off.

At least the rising tension finally causes Tony to look up and meet Clint’s glare. He’s wearing sunglasses even though they’re inside, like he always does. Steve doesn’t like it. Makes it harder to read Tony, to tell what he’s really thinking. Absently, he admits that this is probably why Tony wears them so religiously.

“What do you mean ‘how would you know’?!” Clint snarls, enraged. “My arrows have been acting up for weeks and you still don’t know how to fix it?!”

Tony stares at Clint, the expression on his face unreadable. Then, after a long, long moment of heavy silence, the answer.

“I’m not fixing your equipment.”

For a moment, it’s deadly quiet, as Steve struggles to process the meaning of what Tony has just said.

“Tony,” Steve hastily inserts himself as soon as he finds his voice again, before Clint can throw himself across the room and deck him, “I know there are still some issues we all have to work through, but that’s not an excuse to-”

“Hold it right there, Rogers,” Tony interrupts. It’s never Cap, always Rogers these days. The pain the distinction causes still catches Steve by surprise more often than not. “I’m not sure where you get this from but I’m not your mechanic. I don’t work for you. So if Barton here has an issue with his weapons, he needs to take it up with the people in charge. Considering how often you remind me that it’s not me, you’d think you’d have figured that part out already.”

“But it’s not working!”

Tony sighs. The deep, heavy sort of sigh you usually expect from an exhausted parent after their insistent child asks, “Are we there yet?” for the 34th time. “Then take it up with the quartermaster. Or Agent Hudson. Or one of the techies. Seriously, Barton, you signed the Revision. Who’s responsible for what is right in there, section 12 to 17. Besides-” he pauses.

“What are you waiting for? Go on!” Clint demands between gritted teeth, hands curled into tight fists. Thankfully, he’s not throwing anything. Yet. “Don’t get shy with me now!”

Tony straightens in his seat. Steve inwardly sighs. That man has never been able to let a challenge go unanswered.

Besides,” Tony continues, voice still surprisingly even, “chances are they’re working just fine.”

“You think I can’t tell when my bow isn’t fucking working the way it should?” Clint bristles.

The words actually cause Tony to lower his sunglasses for a moment, just to make sure there is no doubt about how stupid he believes Clint to be. “I’m saying you’re operating with a standard bow, Barton. The fabric and the construction limit the performance quality. Something I’m sure an experienced archer like yourself has picked up on.”

And yes, things are definitely getting ugly. That level of glacial cold in Tony’s voice is rarely achieved, even now.

“The why the fuck did you build a subpar bow?”

Tony sighs again. “You’re missing the point. Seriously, I can not believe we’re even having this conversation. I did not build that bow, Barton.”

And that’s–that’s a surprise.

Tony’s gaze trails over them all, taking in their confused, shocked expressions. “Really?” he asks, exasperation dripping from every syllable. “Did any of you even read the Revision? The Avengers’ are an official unit. Their weapons and uniforms can’t be provided by a private party, especially not one who is part of the team. Have you ever heard the term conflict of interest?”

“What about Stark Industries?” Natasha asks. From the furrow in her brows though, Steve suspects she already knows the answer–and doesn’t like it one bit.

“I’m not sure if you noticed,” and now there’s no mistaking the mocking in Tony’s tone, “but SI doesn’t sell weapons anymore. It was kind of a big thing, couple of years back.”

“But- But yours are better!” Clint splutters. It sounds plaintive and weak, even in Steve’s ears, but at the same time he knows what Clint’s struggling to say. It’s not about getting your toys taken away. It’s about their safety and efficiency in the field. On bad days, it’s about the survival of their entire planet.

“I can’t believe you would risk the teams’ lives and safety like this because of a petty argument,” Steve says, unable to keep quiet any longer, nor bothering to hide the honest disappointment.

Tony, unimpressed as always, simply snorts. “You’re an official unit, but before that you’ve been working for SHIELD for years. Did you ever have the very best equipment mankind was capable of providing at the time? No,” he answers his own question in a breeze, “you didn’t. Why? Because you’re agents, soldiers. And sure, the government wants to protect us, wants to keep us alive and make sure our missions succeed. But they have limited funding, which means everyone has to deal with the best cost-efficient option available. If you’ve got the right connections to get something more, then lucky you, but that makes you an exception, not a rule.”

“You don’t need to explain real life to me!” Clint snaps aggravated.

“Then why do you feel entitled to something better?” That question, sharp and cutting, makes the archer still, his mouth open but with no retort forthcoming. Tony is blinking at him now, head tilted sideways in child-like curiosity.

“Of course, if I, as a private citizen, decided to build something that doesn’t violate any laws and give it to a friend as a gift, that would be something else, wouldn’t it?” Tony continues after a moment, voice softer now, but no less cutting. His eyes are fixated on Clint, sunglasses pushed back, eyes dark and unmoved. “The average update would take me what, a week or two? That’s a lot of time to invest into a single project, especially when the ultimate use is so limited. How many people can possibly profit from improved protective vest versus how many people improve from an exploding arrow is a really fascinating comparison to make.”

“So you see, Barton, even if I could improve your bow, there’s no logical reason why I should waste my time like this.”

“Tony!” Steve interrupts, scandalised. “Clint’s life depend on his aim! Our lives depend on it! How can you justify not providing him with the most basic necessities.”

Tony doesn’t even try and look abashed, instead he throws his head back and laughs. “This is how you want to play it, Rogers? Because I’m rich and a genius, I owe it to you to devote my time, attention and money to bettering your lives? What about the seven billion other people on this world? Don’t they deserve the same consideration, hm? What makes you so special that I should put your needs before anything else?”

Steve opens his mouth, but Tony doesn’t give him a chance to speak.

“I tell you what this is: this is you realising I’m no longer spoiling you rotten because you are in fact not my kids and I can cut you off whenever the fuck I want. And you don’t like it. Because guess what, I may be privileged, but so are you! You’re heroes, most of the time, as far as the world is concerned. You’ve been living off my money and resources on top of that. You’ve always gotten special treatment and you like that. You’re as far detached from the ‘ordinary man on the street’ as I am, you just don’t have the self-awareness to fucking notice!”

Tony sends them a sardonic smile that does in no way take the sting out of his words. “Don’t worry,” he says, “you’ll still be special. It’s just no longer my name footing that bill. Because we’re not friends. And as a business man, I’m not at all sorry to tell you that you simply aren’t worth investing into.”

And with that he stands, all blinding press smile, sweeps around dramatically, and strides purposefully out of the room. The automatic door closes noiselessly behind him, but he might have as well slammed it shut for all the difference it would’ve made.

It’s likely not a coincidence, that on their next mission Spiderman, Vision and Miss Marvel all showcase new, incredibly features and weapons that can’t have been created by anyone else. And it’s impossible to know for sure, what with the mask on, but Steve is one hundred per cent certain that Spiderman is smirking at them.

He is not wrong.


Let me know what you think? And please excuse any mistakes, I’ll re-read this tomorrow. Also this is the last post for today. I’m tiredtiredtired now and think I’ve spread enough bitterness for the day. And spammed your dashes with enough endless posts probably…oops.

What I mean when I say I hate school.

When I say I hate school. 

I do not mean that I hate the idea of school. 

I am lucky to get an education

I am privileged to be able to access the resources I do. 

I enjoy the subjects I study. 

I understand education unlocks opportunities for me that would not otherwise be in my reach. 

What I mean is. 

I hate the pressure put upon me that makes me feel like no more than a grade. 

I hate that I have only half an hour to show what I have learnt over two years or more. 

I hate a system that requires me to study all day every day, to feel guilty for ever taking time out to enjoy my life. 

That turns acquiring knowledge into a chore. 

I am unable to retain that much information, and be able to spell out a correct answer in limited time under pressure. 

I believe it is wrong that even in creative subjects creativity is frowned upon. 

I want to be able to think for myself, not churn out pre-learned answers that fall in line with a mark scheme. 

Written by someone who has already had their education, who does not even study this subject, who does not know me. 

I dislike the fact that I can not learn simply for the love of learning, but that everything must be a step to the next level, 

a job, 

a career,

 university. 

That I am expected to make plans for a future I have no knowledge off, whilst sticking to a system that allows so little diversity. 

I hate the cost of school books, tuition fees, trips and tutors, how to access opportunities everything has to be prepaid. 

And I hate the fact that no matter how hard I try, how much I strive, at the end school will still reduce me to no more than a grade. 

I don’t self-censor my inner critique of the education system to make myself seem cool. 

Yet at the end of another school day I’m to exhausted to say 

anything more than

I hate school.



If you liked this poem, please follow me on my blog for more poetry, prose and other writerly musings- as well as a bunch of reblogged memes-http://judithallenwrites.tumblr.com/

I want to talk today about why Why Animals Do The Thing is done educating on behalf of the wolfdog community. This doesn’t mean I won’t be doing education about wolfdogs if the subject comes up, and I still encourage people to utilize @packwestwolfdogrescue as a source for wolfdog-related information, but WADTT will no longer be advocating for the private-ownership wolfdog community or collaborating with them. I know WADTT readers have really appreciated the previous education surrounding wolfdogs, and I apologize for not being able to continue on a topic that garners so much interest. This is a not a choice I want to make, but one that is necessary, as it has been made clear there is a fundamental incompatibility between their ethos regarding education and public outreach and mine. My ethos for WADTT has always been to create accurate, fact-based education drawn from comprehensive research and to foster a community that encourages dialogue and active collaborative efforts; it is time to disengage from supporting a community whose approach to education is spreads misinformation, attacks learners looking to engage with it, and actively supports harassment.

I’ve been in the various wolfdog Facebook groups since Pack West and I began discussing collaboration about a year ago, because they’re the best source of general education for people interesting in learning about phenotyping and wolfdog behavior. I learned a huge amount from those groups - both about wolfdogs and about the general mentality of the people who own them and participate in discussions about them online. As an educator, it was hard to watch and as someone who wanted to learn it was even harder to engage in.

The education done there of new members was consistently combative and hostile - with threads often devolving into lambasting people for not doing more research before asking questions - and occasionally threads would be created about the new members and how much their attempts to contribute to conversations before they knew everything were a problem. The only people who were considered credible when discussing wolfdogs were those who had owned wolf content animals for most of their lives - which meant that the input of anyone with relevant professional experience was ignored, if not often outright denied as being valid. This meant that the actual education accomplished in the groups was really vitriolic and frequently inaccurate: some posts would invite people to try to phenotype animals for education, but the same people involved would immediately turn around on other posts and condemn people for phenotyping animals they hadn’t met; the discussions about wolfdog behavior I observed were full of urban legends and misunderstandings of dog behavior, and awareness of recent research or even understanding of basic behavioral science concepts was frequently absent; training wolfdogs was not considered unimportant and frequently discouraged, and it seemed that using preventative training strategies to safely manage typical wolfdog behaviors wasn’t even on the radar. Education from the groups in general required being able to discriminate between mythology and fact and the ability to weather the constant unpleasantness that pervaded the threads. I chose to stay because I didn’t want to ask Pack West to be my only wolfdog primary source, and it was important to me to engage with the community I wanted to assist as an outside educator.

Last week, I published an article on what people should know about one of the most internet-famous misrepresented wolfdog, Loki. I’ve talked about Loki in posts a few times on this blog, and while I was at Pack West in January it became clear from our discussions that a larger article was necessary due to the frequency of questions received about him. When the article was published, while the response on tumblr was fairly positive, it brought on a deluge of harassment from the wolfdog community on Facebook that has not yet ended at the time of writing this post. It is the response to that article, specifically the pieces of it that they chose to attack, that finalized my choice to disengage from the private-ownership wolfdog community and helping with their outreach efforts.

I originally shared my article on the groups I was in as an offer of an outside resource that could be utilized, since I had asked the groups for assistance finding sources when I began writing it two months earlier. In the time I had been part of the groups, Loki had been a frequent topic of discussion and irritation, and I assumed that it might be useful for them to have a link to offer people rather than having to reiterate the facts so often.

In response, I was swamped with enough comments to shut down my ability to use Facebook for a couple days: how I don’t have enough experience to write anything education related to wolfdogs, how it’s completely unthinkable to publicize even a well-agreed-upon phenotype on an animal I have never personally met, how I should get sued for writing such a character attack, how I’m not actually an educator and just a person with a vendetta, etc. In addition, multiple threads discussing how appalling it was that the article existed at all and everything wrong with it showed up in the groups, because the fact that they were visible to me didn’t matter. I engaged with a few of them in a similar matter to how I respond to critique on the blog, explaining my reasons for writing and my sources. The comments and the private messages got nastier once I made it clear I wasn’t willing to capitulate to taking the article down. I was eventually kicked out of the main group without any communication or explanation from the mods as to what I’d done to violate the rules. It was exhausting and it hasn’t calmed down: I’m still getting passive-aggressively tagged in things on the groups I haven’t left to give my “expertise”. I recently received a letter from the board of the National Lupine Association, whose phenotyping pamphlet I linked to in the text of the post as further reading, officially requesting that I remove any reference to their association from my blog post. It’s awful and it’s exhausting, but the harassment isn’t why I’m no longer willing to support the private-ownership wolfdog community - it’s because of the type of feedback given regarding how they want education regarding wolfdogs to be done.

These are the major points made by the private-ownership wolfdog community (meaning they were repeated multiple times by different people) in response to my article that elucidated how incompatible the reasons I do education are with that community:

  • My article was not approved by the general community and therefore should not exist. The private-ownership wolfdog community hates messaging they cannot control, especially if they do not agree with it. Some of the well-respected members had told me not to publish when I first brought it up in January, and they were furious that I had not obeyed.
  • My article might have created blowback against the wolfdog community by Loki’s owner, which meant silencing me was more important than educating the general public. The private-ownership wolfdog community is terrified of aggravating Loki’s owner, as they believe he has threatened to use his fame to go anti-ownership, and are desperate to do anything to prevent that occurring. No matter how many animals are killed or left in horrible welfare situations because of the exact type of misrepresentation Loki and his owner perpetuate, it is more important to the majority of the Facebook community to not risk having someone popular speak out against them than to accurately educate the public to prevent other animals suffering in the future.
  • My article contained a phenotype I did not have enough “experience” to be giving, no matter where I sourced it from, so the article could not be credible. Even though I had produced educational content for the wolfdog community regarding phenotyping before, did research into Loki’s parents and kennel of origin, and discussed his phenotype at length with an expert before writing, my lack of personal wolfdog ownership discredited the validity of any educational material produced.
  • My article mentioned having been in contact with a government agency as part of my research, which is a cardinal sin. I contacted USDA regarding the existence of an exhibition permit for Loki - the private-ownership wolfdog community does not believe anyone should ever interface with any authorities regarding a wolfdog, no matter what the situation. (In some ways, this is a reasonable concern, as people have historically reported animals to the government and gotten them taken or killed. However, as Loki is internationally famous, he is not an animal that animal-related government agencies would not already be aware of. Moreover, Loki lives in a wolfdog legal state, USDA considers wolfdogs domestic animals by their own regulatory definitions, and USDA is primarily concerned with enforcing licensing and registration in accordance with the Animal Welfare Act. Inquiring as a journalist about the existence or lack thereof of a specific permit would, at worst, get Loki’s owner fined and forced to get the permit.)
  • My article told the truth about rabies law as it applies to wolfdogs, and it was inappropriate for the general public to be aware of that information.

That is not the education I believe in doing. I do not believe in advocating for people who allow vague threats to keep them from speaking out about an issue that regularly gets animals they care about killed. I do not believe in being told not to do thorough research because it might involve a regulatory agency. I do not believe in being told that it’s inappropriate to educate the public about laws that both protect our pets and could also get them killed just because the truth isn’t pretty or straight forward. And I really don’t believe in supporting a community that is willing to attack and discredit any advocacy on their behalf that they don’t control.

I’ve chosen to remove the Loki post from the WADTT side indefinitely. I abhor letting the bullies win, but the choice comes down to the fact that this is not the hill I want to die on. What I’m trying to build with WADTT is bigger than this and I’d rather fold on this single piece of writing for now to facilitate what I want it to become in the future. The blog has been completely dark for over a week, which hasn’t occurred since I started it two years ago, because this has impacted my mental health so drastically. The folk supporting the WADTT patreon and WADTT’s future are supporting me so I can be present and do daily education, so for now, that’s what I’m choosing to prioritize.

Regular posting and the queue should resume in the next couple of days.

Elsewhere University Clubs Website and Podcast

(Sending this here because it’ll be more visible.)

I’ve a number of messages about the podcast and website for Elsewhere U., and I would like to say that we’re working on it! It’s going to take some time, but if anyone would like to contact us about the project, could you please go to https://elsewhere-university-clubs.tumblr.com? That way we can keep track of everyone involved, and manage our resources better.

What we need:
- More clubs! We have 17 potential spots open just for this purpose! Any club you can think of that would appropriate for such a unique college can be sent in, and it’ll be reviewed before getting put up on the site. (Note: Treat it like an actual club, with members and leaders and such. A club has no use if it has nobody in it!)
- A logo! I’d normally try my hand at making one, but this is a large project, and it feels fitting to have it be open to everyone. Also, I’m kinda creatively-exhausted from working on the website for four days straight (and if anyone thinks they can design a better website, by all means, send in a code). So, have fun designing!
- Lorekeepers! People who would be willing to sort through and keep record of all the things that are considered “canon” by the creator charminglyantiquated, aka Sam. This is to just keep a general idea of the style of the University, it is in no way meant to restrict any creativity.
- Musical artists! We’ve already got one person volunteering to help with sound, but if the podcast really takes off, we’ll need more than that. Send in those songs and random inhuman sounds to contribute to the radio!
- Stories! Tidbits of events that pepper the radio broadcast in the form of rumors, or perhaps full columns on the happenings at the school submitted to a not-yet-created news club. Getting in examples of student life is one of the top priorities in this project, because it’s what sparked the idea for all of this in the first place!
- Art! It’s not very wise to take pictures of the Gentry, but drawings are welcome- who knows, perhaps a Gentry Identification club might spawn from it. Also, a labelled campus map would be above and beyond, if anyone wanted to try their hand at it.

I’m sure I’m forgetting a few things, but this is a good enough place to start as any.


you guys i’m hyperventilating. go direct some of the enthusiasm their way, this is the coolest thing

‘i can’t help but want’ epilogue

i wrote a short little piece for @legendarydesvender for her birthday. i’d just released this fic when we started talking, and i still remember fondly that she doodled a little spock!keith for me during the livestream that we met in. happy birthday sven!! you’re lovely and wonderful and make me laugh every single day  💖💖💖

keith/lance (2112 words) 

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skymurdock  asked:

psst! thoughts on Lyra Erso, especially what you think might've happened if she had somehow survived? does she get to meet Beru and Breha, do they form a little club of middle-aged women in the Rebellion?

The crystal was…interesting. 

Breha had wandered over to the cluttered table out of vague interest—amid the looming structures and finicky-looking equipment, the table was the only thing she trusted herself not to damage. It was a chaotic mess, tools and rock samples and notes scrawled on flimsi all scattered, stacked haphazardly. But Breha’s gaze had been drawn to the innocuous white crystal immediately. She couldn’t help picking it up, turning it over in her hand. Someone had drilled a hole through one end, and threaded a cord through it, as though it was meant to be worn as a pendant.

It felt oddly warm against her skin, like something living.

Breha thought of Leia inexplicably, and for a moment she panicked—but Leia was fine, stuck in yet another strategy meeting. She would be there in the mess for dinner, probably arguing with Captain Solo, or trying to bite back a grin as Luke teased Lieutenant Antilles. Leia was fine. She was—

Breha startled at the sound of a loud grunt, too-close behind her. When she whirled around there was a helmeted sentient sticking out of what had previously been a gaping hole in the ground. The faint sound of hammering, voices, could still be heard drifting up from depths unknown.

“Oh!” the human woman—at least, Breha was reasonably sure; it was hard to tell under the layer of grime—said. She hauled herself up and out of the hole, stumbled to her feet. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was here. Have you been waiting long?”

“Only a moment or so,” Breha demurred. Now that she could see all of her, the sentient was definitely a human woman, dressed in something that may have, at one time, been a Rebel uniform. (It was encrusted with entirely too much dirt to be called that anymore.) She had repurposed a blaster bandolier, and stuck it full of what looked like laserscopes and spectrographs. 

There was a pickax at her hip.

Breha cleared her throat, tried again. “I was told Lyra Erso—”

“You must be with Acquisitions! They said someone would be coming by for the wishlist.”

“It’s not a wishlist,” Breha said, but she couldn’t summon her usual fierceness, the accompanying lecture about the importance of resource planning. 

So this was Lyra Erso.

Your husband killed my husband, Breha thought dizzily. She’d forgotten how to breathe, what came after exhale.

“Yes, yes,” Lyra Erso said, waving a hand dismissively. She had come to stand beside Breha, and was sifting through the cluttered mess of the desk with purpose. “I swear on the Force, the Rebellion has become almost as bad as the Order was when it comes to paperwork…”

Breha blinked. “The Order?”

Lyra Erso froze, a sheaf of flimsi in her hand. Breha watched a complicated expression flicker across her face, and then slide away. “Oh. That’s—I mean the Jedi Order,” she finally said, stiltedly. “I was…a youngling. At the temple on Coruscant. In another life.”

Now that Breha was looking, she could see that the lines around Lyra Erso’s mouth, her eyes, were not cracks in the dirt—she had to be just older than Breha, and that was a strange thought, that Galen Erso’s widow was the same age as Bail Organa’s.

“AgriCorps?” Breha hazarded. She wasn’t sure if there was a politer way to say, so you never made it to padawan.

“Engineering division. Mining geology and geoengineering, mainly.” Lyra Erso straightened up, and looked Breha in the eye. “You?”

“I was not in the AgriCorps,” Breha retorted dryly. Lyra Erso pulled a face, and Breha found herself adding, “But I knew many Jedi.”

“Ah. From Coruscant, then?”

“Alderaan,” Breha said, and Lyra Erso jerked, stumbling a few steps back, away from Breha. All the blood had drained from her face, and Breha watched her throat work as she swallowed.

“Oh.”

“My husband was a senator on Coruscant for many years, though, and counted some of the High Councilors his friends.”

“I know,” Lyra said weakly. She looked as though she wasn’t breathing. “I—heard stories of Senator Organa. Though more from…My husband was a engineer. He worked on military contracts, so he—”

“I am aware,” Breha said, and she wasn’t able to keep the ice and fury out of her voice this time, not entirely. Lyra flinched.

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anonymous asked:

Hi :) I'm really new, like, just discovering spirit work and haven't really started yet new, I was wondering if you knew any good/reliable resources or posts or anything like that for beginners that you could please point me to? I've seen plenty of posts with advice about being careful and protected and what NOT to do but I'm struggling to find anything on what I /am/ supposed to do. I have absolutely no idea HOW I'm supposed to start 😅

Ok I said I wasn’t helping people any more but I have an hour before work so

Crann’s methods of how to actually do spirit work in a real way that will benefit you and the spirits around you.

MAJOR ULTRA UPG WARNING AHEAD

So there are different varieties of spirits and you will interact with them in different ways. Most people’s spirit companions are a lot like “people”. They have egos, personalities, minds, memories, a sense of individuality, and a way of experiencing reality that mirrors our human experience of reality.

“People” spirits are just one small type of spirit in the universe. There are many spirits which are not “people” in the slightest yet which are still real and valuable allies, and I fear a lot of people ignore these powerful spirits because they are more difficult to relate to. There are spirits which may as well reside in a different universe, given how alien they are to our small human minds.

Alright so we want to do some real spirit work am I right?

Step one: Find a plant.

Benefits of plant communication: 

  • They tend to sit still and not run away from you.
  • They will not become uncomfortable if you silently stare at them for several minutes
  • They are usually quiet patient and forthcoming with their answers

Caveat: If you are looking for a more magical experience, seek out a plant high on the scale of magical properties. Most any plant will speak to you, but magical plants have a benefit to them. For one they have often already agreed to work with humanity so you’ve got a foot in the door. For another they tend to have more interesting things to say, and may give you advice on your magical practices and how to improve them.

It is spring season so it shouldn’t be hard to go to the local home center and pick up a nice sprouted herb and a pot :) 

Sit down with your plant of choice (it need not be a magical herb, a tree outside or a nice bush will do). Touch its leaves to introduce yourself. Take a deep breath and release all thought within your mind. Send a single message: “Hello, will you talk to me?” Take a deep breath and release all thought within your mind.

Then wait for the plant to talk back.

You may experience words, feelings, emotions, images, or other mental stimuli. If the plant suddenly pricks you or stings you, it is not interested in talking. If you get no reply at all from a plant, leave it alone and find another. If you are having very little success, seek out a magical herb (living or dried) and try that instead.

The purpose of speaking with plants is to get in some practice. Learning how to quiet things down in your mind so you have an opportunity to hear answers. Not to mention that plants are some of the earliest and most ancient teachers ^-^

Use this same technique for crystals and elements of nature such as rivers, caves, hills, even roads :) Try it for animals as well although they do not often like to patiently sit still!

Then I suppose at some point you would like to talk to non-corporeal spirits, like elementals and fairies and so on :) This is where things get a little different!

When talking to a plant there is in my opinion little risk of danger (although I have been attacked by plant spirits before). When you move on to incorporeal entities things get a bit rougher. A bit more dangerous. So you’ll want to have your protective amulets, your protective circle, and your banishing materials in place. At this point you should also be reading resources on the type of spirit you wish to commune with, to learn the proper etiquette and ways to deal with these spirits.

Go to where you feel these incorporeal spirits would be. Clear your mind and just as you called to the plant, call to the spirit. Speak to it using your personal technique you have learned communing with plants. Send away the spirit safely and politely when you are finished speaking with it, and remove yourself respectfully.

Now earlier I mentioned that spirit contact can be used for your benefit and the benefit of the spirits ^-^

The spirits may sometimes ask you for help. As a physical being you can do lots of things that incorporeal beings can’t manage. For example a house plant asking for more water is a way you can oblige the spirit world :) Or a forest tree may ask you to pick up litter. There are deeper and more mystical things a spirit may ask of you besides obvious offerings but those are things for you to discover down your path. At least on my path I can say that the more I interact with spirits, the more I help them and the more they help me.

So suppose you need some help in your life! Pray to the Universe or your gods or your higher powers to send you a spirit that can help you. Reach out to your spirit guides. Go to a place of power or a place you often commune with the spirits and ask for help in exchange for offerings. 

REMEMBER THIS. There is ALWAYS an exchange. This doesn’t mean loss —– there is just always an exchange. You do not interact with spirits and stay the same person when you are done, even if you change by a hair’s breadth. 

Now just some random tidbits…

  • Start small! You are level 1. Start with level 1 spirits. You feel me?
  • Life gets in the way. We all get that. If life gets in the way for you a lot, DO NOT make promises to commune with spirits regularly. 
  • Don’t put up with assholes. Seriously. There are so many good, beautiful, wonderful spirits in the Universe that are eager to be our friends and teachers. Don’t fucking put up with Mr. Dickbutt just because he gives you the thrill of spirit communication. Get rid of spirits that do not uplift you.
  • The “spirit communication muscle” takes time to grow. Don’t expect to be connected to the spirit world all day as soon as you start out. Exhausting yourself is counter-productive and unhealthy.

anonymous asked:

Oh! If i can get kind of specific, and.. not andriel for once.. (clutches heart i love those boys though) would you be willing to do 34 with jerejean, as like, jeremy introducing jean to the rest of the team maybe?

34: “I’d like to apologize in advance for my crazy family”

He has these serious grey eyes, dull like pebbles blazed by heat. There’s the other stuff too, the broken hitch sideways of his nose, the spidering scars all over, like they’re coming straight from the hurt in his brain. 

Jeremy sees them and tucks his burning questions away for later. There are more important things to notice. Like how Jean has a very pretty mouth, an overfull upper lip that makes him look like he’s perpetually pouting. It matches the frown line that cuts his brow in two.

He’s seen Jean before, for minutes at most, passing ships at Exy banquets, one intense first meeting when Jean was hastily smuggled onto the USC lineup and Jeremy was asked to do some reconnaissance and a cursory meet and greet.

He’d gone to see Jean, carrying a USC sweater he’d stolen from the bin of spares at the court as a peace offering. Jeremy hadn’t been prepared for the single saddest looking person he had ever seen, stripped of the bravado he’d worn at Riko’s side, cut off from some sort of threat but clearly not from the fear. 

Jeremy had pressed the bundle of red and gold into Jean’s hands and Jean had suppressed a jump, worried his torn lip and accepted it gently, gently, as if Jeremy was handing him a bomb for disposal.

Jeremy was nervous, but he fought to scrape the waver from his voice. He’d ignored Jean’s fresh wounds, ignored the look on his face like he was going to get hit or lied to.

They’d spoken briefly about how they’d handle the media, about the superficial scheduling concerns but also the bone-deep concern for Jean’s life that hummed underneath, sickening and obvious. Jeremy was frighteningly aware of the game running adjacent to Exy, always, something deadly eating at their community. The way they were handling Jean’s transfer like it was an illegal exchange of goods, Neil and Kevin in the news with a new bandage every few months, Jean in front of him looking like someone’s make up practice for a horror movie. It was all unmistakable.

And those eyes. He’s worried they’re never going to have anything in them.

They’re on him now, unflinching, and Jean’s less of a twitchy raw wound then he had been that first time the two of them had spoken. Jeremy’s trying to keep his smile pinned up at both sides but he feels like one end keeps sagging. The airport is a streaky spill of reunions and rolled luggage and Jean hoists his single duffle bag and waits for Jeremy to move first.

“How was your flight?” Jeremy asks nervously, trying to steer them out towards the car without getting too close or asking too much.

“How are they usually?”

Jeremy shrugs, offset. “Uhh, I mean. Good or bad is usually the measure. No turbulence and free pudding versus babies and vomit.”

“I don’t like pudding,” Jean says, dead serious, and Jeremy smiles for real.

“Well I like babies, so. It was a flawed example.”

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Seven Days

Summary: This is for @saxxxology ‘s June Writing Challenge. Sam and the reader get involved in a dirty talk competition. So much smut ensues.

Warning: smut, orgasm delay, use of ice, SO MUCH DIRTY TALK

Word Count: 7200 (Not sorry at all)

A/N: This one got away from me. I hope that’s a good thing. @oriona75 @withoutaplease @blushingsamgirl @spectaculacular-sammy @thinkwritexpress @aprofoundbondwithdean

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Southern Motherf*cking Democratic Republicans (Jefferson x Madison x Burr x Reader) 2 (Final)

Words: 2000+

Warnings: Consistent mentions of sex, flufff

A/N: i’ve been procrastinating on writing a second part to this because i suck, sorry. enjoy! also just realized that the first got more than 100+ notes? thank you loves!

Part 1


After that day, it was extremely difficult to walk out of your apartment without reporters flashing lights in your face or taking pictures of you. It was the same questions, like how does it feel to have three soulmates? And did you ever think this would happen to you? Three eligible bachelors fanning for your affection? But it was not what you imagined. It’s not what anyone imagined meeting their soulmate (correction: *soulmates) would be like.

This was just the beginning of your odd relationship with them. Burr would drop you off at work in the morning, Madison would take you to a local coffee shop on break, and Jefferson would take you home. Once he asked if you would go to his house instead, with a wink.

You didn’t.

It was hard. It was extremely hard to deal with. Your heart was torn in literally three pieces, fighting to share your love with all three of them. You were stressed, and you cursed to the universe every night. There were being even more unfair, they were making you exhausted every day.

Eliza said that you were complaining too much, and that you should appreciate what the world has given you. You retorted back, asking if she could handle having three soulmates. She blushed, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

You decided to not bring it up to her again.

After a few weeks of this, you decided to have a meeting with all three of them at your home. There were few reporters still there, and Thomas made the last few go away, with threatening to call his “resources” to make them get fired. They quickly dispersed after that, never showing their faces to you again. You shook your head at Thomas’s threat, but he insisted that it was for your privacy, and that he would do everything in his power to keep the media out of your lives.

You ordered takeout that night, the boys wanting to buy it for you instead. You scowled them for the hundredth time that day, telling them that you had enough money to spare. You appreciated their kindness, but sometimes, you wanted to treat them instead.

You heard a knock on the door, and opened it, your three soulmates standing there in front of you. You couldn’t ignore the throbbing in your chest when you saw them, the universe reminding you that you loved them more than anything. Jefferson wore a dark purple shirt tonight, his hair neatly combed (if you could do that to the curls on his head). He walked in, kissing your forehead softly. Madison strolled by next, wearing a dark blue shirt. The smile on his face made you grin back at him, he kissed your cheek. Burr was the last, wearing a black shirt. He pulled you into a hug instead, holding you as tight as possible.

They all gathered in the kitchen, sitting at the small table. You lived alone, so a small table with four chairs seemed enough for you, at the time. Now that these massive men were in your home, you made a mental note to buy a bigger table. The three of them were cramped in the apartment, constantly bumping into each other. Maybe a bigger apartment instead.

“How are you, my love?” Jefferson asked, gathering the plates.

“I’m fine, Thomas.” You replied, pulling out the rice containers. James placed his hand on the small of your back, telling you to sit down.

“We’ve got this, Y/N. You bought the food, so we’ll serve you.” Burr grabbed sodas out of the fridge, and James helped, putting ice in the cups.

You were extremely thankful for them. As you four sat down, Madison next to you and Burr and Jefferson across from you. You wanted to enjoy your moment with the boys, but you couldn’t help but bring up the point that you needed to make. They were chatting with each other, ignoring your pleas and gestures. After a minute of this, you rose you voice, causing them all to look at you.

“Listen, guys, listen. I, don’t you think our situation is weird? We’re all soulmates, isn’t that strange to you at all?” Madison was the first one to shake his head.

“Not at all. Before we met you, Thomas and I grew up knowing that there was someone out there who had the same tattoo as us. Once ours didn’t glow or hurt when we saw it, we knew there was a missing link.” Madison glanced over at Burr. “Two missing links.”

“James is right, this seems okay to me. Why, do you not like us?” Burr asked, pausing in his eating. You sighed, putting your head in your hands. You were constantly bombarded with mixed emotions from the three of them all the time. There was research done that suggests soulmates felt the pain and other emotions of their loved one, and vice versa. Since you had three, you felt all of what they felt.

Right now, you felt nervousness emulating from all of them. It was cumbersome to deal with all their emotions at the same time. Your head was throbbing, and you tried to deal with it. “No, Aaron, that’s not what I’m trying to say. I just, I don’t know if I can do this.” You whispered.

You felt a burning sensation on your arm, and looked at it quickly. The dragon tattoo on your arm was burning bright red, fading the tail of the dragon. You widened your eyes at your arm, looking at your soulmates. They were all looking at theirs as well, watching it fade.

“You’re rejecting us, Y/N?” Thomas whispered, a small bit of sorrow in his eyes.

“No, I’m not, I-“

“We’ve researched this for our whole lives, Y/N, don’t you remember? We know what happens to soulmates when one of them rejects the other. Your tattoo begins to fade. As you grow away from them, it continues to dissipate, until there is nothing left. We know what we’re talking about.” Thomas hissed, growing angry. You shook your head, looking at the dragon.

“I don’t know how I feel about all of you, about this.” You whispered. “I care about all of you, but it’s like I’m not myself anymore. It’s like, everything you guys think, everything you do, consumes me. I can’t think around you all.”

Burr grabbed your fingers, his eyes pleading with you. “We can figure this out, we are scientists. We can make it easier for you to handle. Just, just don’t give up on us, please.” Burr said desperately. You hated hearing his voice shake, but you needed some space, and space. To deal with this.

You nodded, hearing Burr sigh in relief. He was the most sensitive out of the four of you. Since you two have met, he needed constant reassurance that you were not going to leave him. You always wondered why, but never found the time to ask him about it.

“I won’t give up on you three, I need some time. I need some time to stop these headaches that I’m getting. It’s hard enough to deal with my own emotions, let alone three other people.” They nodded. You sensed relief from the rest of them, and it calmed your headache. Dealing with positive emotions were much easier than negative ones.

“Can we eat in piece, now?” Thomas mumbled, grabbing an egg roll from the pile. You smiled at him, picking the sweet and sour chicken out of the middle. “Y/N, I told you to get soy sauce.” He grumbled, staring at the sauces on the table.

“I asked the lady for it, did she not put any in the bag?” Thomas pouted, and you told him to check in the closet for sauce. Fortunately, you saved packages from previous takeout. He grinned happily, sitting back down next to Burr. “Guys, I have a question.” They all looked up at you. “Do you, do you feel the same way about each other like I feel about you. You know, romantic feelings?” Burr laughed, glancing at the two men next to him.

“Why do you ask?” Madison asked.

“Because, it seems weird that we’re soulmates and I only love you, but you don’t love each other.”

“Good question.” Thomas replied, lending you no more information. You rolled your eyes at his lack of a response.

“Come on.” You grumbled.

“We do, love each other.” Madison answered for them, twirling noodles in his fork. “Before we met you, it was more like a brotherly love. We knew we were soulmates, too, so that was kind of a given.”

Thomas interrupted Madison. “We didn’t know how many people were going to be soulmates with us, especially after we found Burr. Honestly, I thought it was going to be more than ten people, which sounds ridiculous.” He mumbled, playing with his mac and cheese. You made it for him yourself, since he was always unhappy when dinner didn’t include the “delicacy” (he called mac and cheese that constantly).

“I’m happy that it’s only four, Y/N. Three’s a crowd, four’s a party.” Burr winked, causing you to blush.

“But yes, we do love each other. Once our tattoos glowed, there was a click, at least for me, when I looked at the other two. It was like I was seeing them for the first time.” James replied, smiling at the other two. “I’m happy for us, I really am.”

“And we’ll have great sex.” Thomas murmured, making your face reddened even more than before. You were reminded of Eliza’s look when she mentioned the four of you.

“You’re embarrassing Y/N.” Burr chuckled. Thomas looked up from his food, smirking at you. He wiggled his eyebrows, nudging Burr. Burr grinned, putting his hand on Thomas’s thigh.

“Can we stop talking about the deed? I just want to watch a movie later.” You mumbled. Who knows what emotions you would feel when that happened.

“And after…?” Madison questioned, giving you an evil grin. You gasped, surprised at how blunt Madison was. He was usually the one to mediate and calm everyone down, but it seems like tonight, he was encouraging the other two. You snickered.

“Let’s just focus on the movie right now.”

“We’re definitely gonna f*ck tonight.” Thomas mumbled, and you threw a piece of bread at him. He raised his eyebrows, holding a piece of pork in his hand. You warned him with your eyes, and he grinned, tossing the piece of food at you. The sauce on it hit your face, leaving a trail of grease. You glared at him, picking up the rice container in front of you.

Thomas held his hands up in defense, looking at you. “Come on, Y/N, you started it! Just, not the rice, please. It would take me forever to get it out of my hair.” He complained, and you tossed it anyway, the pellets going on all three of you boyfriends. James sighed, picking the rice off his food. Aaron laughed, grabbing the noodle container. He looked at James, then placed it quickly on his hair, giggling evilly.

James frowned, the noodles cascading down his face. “That’s it, I’m going to stop this right now.” James grabbed the soda bottle from the middle of the table, and poured it on Aaron, and you heard a gasp come out of his mouth.

You three began this insane food fight, tossing anything that was close by. After a few minutes, all the food was on the floor, stains were everywhere; from the ceiling fan to inside your closet. When you were looking at the aftermath, they boys stared at you sheepishly. You broke out into a grin, and laughed.

“You guys are so going to help me fix this up.” James grabbed your waist and ran, carrying you in his arms. You laughed, hitting him on his back softly. “James, we need to clean this up! I don’t want it to stain!”

“We’ll clean it later, but now…” Thomas said, grinning. Aaron was hanging on Thomas’s back, all of them leading you to the bedroom. The happiness radiating from all of them made your heart swell with glee.

And that’s when you knew. You knew that you could handle being with the three of them. At this moment, you could not imagine your life without them in it.

anonymous asked:

fee i need autistic reyna pls ud be good at this

i just had a fucking RAGER of a shutdown like the worst one ever and i’m trying to pull myself out of it so really what better of a time than this

  • she uses the exact same communication methods when she’s commanding a crowd as she does in every day conversation. it’s a little offputting and perplexing to everyone else, and she struggles very hard to communicate one on one.
  • she always thought she’d be a terrible leader because she really just doesn’t seem to be very good at talking to people and making people like her, but she’s stunned to find that 1. giving uninterrupted speeches where she gets very passionate about her topic go over quite well in front of a crowd 2. being very Intense and Focused when making a point in front of an audience is perceived as a sign of strength and wisdom, rather than aggressive or a turn off like it is when making small talk
  • her movements seem kind of mechanical or stuttered to most people. the only time her body seems to work the way she needs it to is when she’s fighting.
  • her lending her strength out to other people is genuinely the most selfless and compassionate act she’s capable of making, because it depletes nearly all of her spoons and makes her enormously vulnerable until she has time to recharge
  • she has such a difficult time with sarcasm. she ends up being grateful for her reputation as a super intense and slightly terrifying leader because this is the facade she uses to disguise that she literally cannot understand other people’s senses of humor sometimes.
  • she’s actually a super sweet and sensitive person but she often panics and feels so uncomfortable when other people start making jokes or using heavy sarcasm or excessively dry humor that she doesn’t understand, so she’ll leave the room.
  • it’s really sad and makes her feel sort of helpless because she can’t quite make friends and everyone seems to think she hates them, but she doesn’t realize that she has a resting bitch face and she just really truly genuinely forgets to say basic greetings sometimes.
  • she h h h h aa a a t e s showering, the water pellets feel like they’re attacking her and bar soap is hopelessly dry and starchy feeling and scented shampoos or shower gels feel nice but are so strongly scented that it sends her into sensory hell
  • she is absolutely floating on cloud nine when she discovers the roman baths.
  • sometimes she’ll be doing okay and everything will be cool but she just. needs a second. so she’ll quick find a door to lock herself behind and FLAP FLAP FLAP FLAP FLAP….”phew.” and then go resume whatever she was doing.
  • she has a playlist of instrumental music (her faves are strings) and after a hard day of praetor work, she’ll put her headphones in and slowly rock back and forth to unwind. that’s like her favorite activity to do she could sit like that for hours.
  • she doesn’t really have meltdowns or shutdowns in the traditional sense but she DOES dissociate when she gets like really agitated. it’s a fairly new symptom (or it used to happen rather a bit when she was younger but she seems to have blocked it out, because it stopped when she arrived at camp jupiter and only starts up again once the war is over.) it’s more connected to her emotional state than anything else.
  • she looks very outwardly chill when she’s dissociating and it tends to be the “my body is moving on autopilot but i actually have literally no control of what i’m doing rn and i feel like i’m watching myself from outside my body” kind. if it gets REALLY bad though (like as in she’s very very agitated and emotionally distressed) it’s the “who’s fucking hand is this” kind
  • her dogs act like therapy dogs, really. she’s such a lucky bastard to have them i swear
  • she can usually sense when she’s going nonverbal before it actually happens (Luck y BASTARD) so she’ll start communicating in grunts and one word answers on purpose to like, charge up, or store energy or whatever.
  • she’s really good at keeping several spoons on reserve for important moments. she unfortunately had a lot of time to practice this with a childhood as rough and awful as her’s was.
  • if she says “i don’t want to talk about this” she really fucking means i literally do not—cannot talk about this right now and if you do not drop it i am literally going to fucking lose it. she usually leaves the room before it gets that bad.
  • cc’s spa is such a nice place for her because she can just braid people’s hair for hours and hours and she doesn’t have to talk to them or look at them she can just like use their hair and it feels so stimmy and nice
  • she is a hu m m e r she does a steady monotone hum when she’s happy or content or relaxed. circe’s customers used to gossip about it and she got really embarrassed so she made herself stop, and she doesn’t pick up the habit again until she’s at camp jupiter.
  • jason always thought it was really cute and he wisely never commented on it because he had a feeling it would make her self conscious (he was right). he always felt strangely honored that she felt comfortable enough that she would do it in front of him (even if he didn’t understand that it was a stim, he clearly knew it was something she did when she was happy and relaxed and only when she was alone or alone with him).
  • she was selectively mute (partially nonverbal??? idk what the terminology is for this is actually but It’s A Thing) as a child and so that was how she got diagnosed, because her teachers were always like “um HELLO sir your daughter doesn’t speak to us?? literally ever???” and her dad was like a total deadbeat, so he probably just punished her for it or called her stupid or whatever, but hylla exhausted all her resources researching it and was the best most supportive big sister any autistic kid could ask for.
  • eye contact is super bad in one on one or small scale situations but once again she looks a lot more comfortable in a crowd because she can just stare at everyone’s forehead or scan faces without really seeing
  • she’s super hyperempathetic towards animals!!!! (don’t fucking make me think about scipio!!!!!!! there was no fucking reason he needed to die!!!!!!!!!!!)
  • also animals really like her. this is a helpful skill when meeting lupa, understandably. she’s very good at wolf language, considering she doesn’t use words as her like most primary kind of communication (and sometimes feels like verbal speech is impossible)

i’ve been thinking about this a lot lately and i was going to write it in my journal but it seemed too big and it felt like i needed to put it out into the ether so –

if you ever find yourself surrounded by people, or even just one person, who makes you feel like you are difficult to love - those people are wrong. growing up with abuse, growing out of trauma, living with mental illness this is one of the biggest hurdles we face. we’re ugly sometimes. we have jagged edges that we can never ever file down. we yell we scream we cry. we have sharp raw emotion that explodes out of us sometimes for inexplicable reasons - or for absolutely no reason at all. 

and it is very easy to feel like no one can ever love you because of that. and sometimes we have people in our lives that reinforce that feeling. sometimes they do this unintentionally. sometimes they mean every word. but they are wrong. 

you are not hard to love. you’re not hard to love. you are not hard to love. even when the hideous parts of you are extending their claws you deserve love. you deserve love when you’re happy and you deserve love when you’re sad. you deserve love when you look in the mirror and can’t feel your skin. you deserve love when you’re crying on your bathroom floor at 4 in the morning. you deserve love when your hands shake. 

and if someone, anyone tells you that you are hard to love they are wrong. even if that person is you. 

I spent a lot of time rejecting love and affection and compassion because I didn’t think I deserve it. I still don’t, honestly. I think I’m hard to love. I think I’m a burden on the people who love me and that they will stop given enough time. But I’ve come to the point that I can take those feelings out and put them in a box and look at them and know that they are wrong. It doesn’t mean I don’t believe them. It doesn’t mean I don’t feel them. But I know them for what they are, which is a step. Love is not an exhaustible resource, not in this sense. I don’t mean that you can never stop loving someone, because that’s how it happens sometimes. But you can never ever reach a limit for how much love you are allowed or are worthy of. I love you. If someone hasn’t told you today: I love you.

Creepypasta #1095: The Room At The Bottom Of The Stairs

Length: Super long

This is the story of what happened to my family when I was 14. It was the strangest series of experiences I’ve ever had. 

My dad was an abuser. He never really touched me - he mostly ignored me, like I was beneath his notice - but he was terribly cruel to my mother. He never raised his voice or hit her when we were watching, but he would just quietly criticise her in an almost unbroken stream of soft, matter-of-fact verbal abuse. Also, while he may not have done it in front of us, I know he definitely hit her. My mother was - and still is today - a graceful woman. The stories about her tripping on the stairs or slipping on the wet bathroom floor never rang true, and yet we all saw the bruises, the arm in a sling, the band-aids over grazes.

She left him when I was 14 and we were all relieved. I felt no love for him and I had become more and more convinced over the last couple of years that one day he would kill her, and maybe us too. Seriously, he was a frightening man - seemingly soft-spoken, but cold and intense. When stories crop up on the news about fathers snapping and murdering their families, I always imagine my dad could easily have been one of them.

So we left, and I was glad. There were three of us: me, mum, and my big brother Joseph who was a 16 at the time, only a few months off 17. Technically, he was old enough that he could have left home already, but like me he lived in fear of what dad might do without a tall, muscular 17 year old in the house. Joey was a rugby player, a hundred kilos of solid muscle, but the opposite of our father: gentle, sweet, generous. I think it was his growing resentment of our father that pushed mum to leave. She told me years later that she had nightmares about Joey losing it and beating dad to a pulp, ending up in prison.

Mum did her homework as thoroughly as she could. She got the court order in place so dad would be barred from entering the property or coming anywhere near it, and the very next day she had the moving truck and the self-storage unit booked. A soon-to-be homeless unemployed single mother has limited resources, so we had to do all the moving ourselves. That was a long, exhausting day, but it was good, too. Liberating. We knew we were leaving that bastard behind.

Most of our stuff was stored away and we lived for a couple of months with mum’s sister Bella and her husband Steve. Their apartment was small for just the two of them, so with five of us there it was insanely cramped. Mum’s plan was simple enough - get a job, any job, and then find a place to rent - but the job market wasn’t great for a fortysomething single mum who hadn’t worked in almost 20 years.

Thankfully, the government came through with some emergency payments. Between that and Joey’s income from his weekend job, we had enough money coming in that we could maybe think about moving into somewhere very cheap. It wasn’t just the cramped apartment, either. Mum didn’t talk about it much, but she knew that dad knew her sister’s address. A few times the phone would ring in the middle of the night and the caller would hang up without saying anything, so mum was starting to get spooked.

Our stroke of luck came in a matched pair. Mum got a job interview for an office admin position, and it went very well (the interviewer was a sympathetic older woman and mum was very honest about why she was looking for work after such a long break). On the way home on the bus, she saw a “for lease” sign. My mum has always been very spiritual but she was feeling very optimistic and decided the sign was, well, “a sign”. She jumped off at the next bus stop and ran back to check it out.

It was an actual house, not a unit or apartment. Most people in my mother’s position would have walked on, assuming it was out of their price range, but my mother was very observant. The road it was on ran along a kind of ridge between two hilltops, and the house was on the uphill side of the road, nestled in against a fairly steep slope. As such, the back yard was considerably higher up than the street, and the back door was on the same level as the upper storey out the front.

My mother noticed that the exterior of the house - stucco over brick, painted a creamy white - was looking pretty shabby. It was all surface dirt, the kind that would come off easily with a hose and a broom. The fact that nobody had bothered made mum feel certain the house wasn’t getting a lot of love. She took a closer look at the “for lease” sign, swinging from a wooden post in the front yard. Sure enough it was looking very weathered too. She jotted down the phone number and - she confessed to me later - almost skipped back to the bus stop.

Her instincts were good: an unusually frank agent admitted that it had been sitting empty for months and the owners were eager to get a tenant in. The rent they were asking was shockingly low and well within our budget. Mum got the rental approval and a new job on the same day, and we all felt like our troubles were over.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I have a problem with remembering how to cope when things start feeling tough. it feels like my mind goes blank and i end up just laying in bed. any tips?

Hey honeybun 💕 I still experience this constantly. It’s actually normal to be tired and forgetful. People who suffer from mental illness usually have interrupted sleep cycles, our bodies are often in the fight-or-flight mode, we experience a lot of stress, and sometimes we take medication that causes fatigue. Our bodies are constantly working against our illnesses, but our brains sometimes work in favor of them. Being in a constant inner battle IS EXHAUSTING, and as human beings we all need to rest. You are not wrong for feeling this way. Please use your most non-biased judgement and make sure you are rested enough !!

Getting out of bed:

• Go easy on yourself and be kind.
• Start with something small like stretching, getting in the shower, brushing your teeth, or walking to another room in the house.
• Use positive thinking. Remind yourself that this feeling will pass, and tell yourself “I can do this. Just one step at a time, and I can get back into bed if I want to.” Reflect on your progress and personal strengths.
• Distract yourself with something you love. Play with a pet, read, listen to a positive music playlist, flip through a photo album, write in a journal, pick up your phone and call a good friend, etc.
• Bribe yourself. Treat yourself to a snack in the kitchen, change into your comfiest outfit, or take it even further by stepping out to a coffee shop for a hot drink.
• Stop trying so hard. Our effort can backfire on us and we can end up feeling worse than before. Breathe, and remember that not every day has to be productive. You are allowed to rest and take the time you need to heal.

Reminder tips:

• Keep a page in a notebook, or a digital note on your computer with your personal favourite self help ideas for when you’re feeling this way. Get creative if you want.
• Sticky notes !!! Stick ‘em everywhere. Positive words and reminders are great to have around your bedroom.
• I personally keep a binder filled with good articles, self help ideas, lists, colouring pages, therapy resources, and a ton of information on my illnesses. It’s helped me tremendously through my recovery journey and it’s one of my favourite go-to’s when I’m feeling really lost and unsure.

I hope these are somewhat helpful, darling. You’re never alone. 🌷💝

tbh I’m still waiting on a coda that hypes up jealous!dean big time

Like all of them getting back to the bunker and Cas is taking the trench off and Dean sees a piece of paper fall out of the pocket. He goes to pick it up and freezes when he reads the print on the front. Mick Davies. British Men of Letters. 

“You kept it?” he snarls at Cas.

And Cas looks confused at Dean’s tone but just answers, “Yes. I thought it would be wise in case we ever need to contact them.”

“We don’t need help from those assholes, Cas!” Dean yells and stalks away, crumbling the card in his hand. Later when he’s in his room, he tosses it in the trashcan and burns it.

And Dean thinks that’s the end of it until the next day when he finds Cas in the library researching the British Men of Letters.

“Cas, we are not working with those assholes! Did you see what the did to Sam?”

“I’m not recommending it, Dean,” Cas replies evenly. “I just thought it best to be prepared should it ever become necessary. And Mick said-”

The name rolls off Cas’s tongue and Dean sees red. “Oh. Mick, huh? We’re on first name basis now, are we? Well that’s just great.”

Confusion tilts Cas’s head and squints his eyes and it is not cute right now. “Dean is everything all right?”

“Of course!” Dean shouts, jumping to his feet. “Why wouldn’t I be thrilled about you getting all buddy-buddy with middle-aged Harry Potter?!” Dean turns on his heel and marches out of the room.

Of course, Cas is still struggling to understand sarcasm, Dean’s brand in particular, so he continues researching and is more and more fascinated about the history of the Men of Letters, which he happily relates to Mary, Sam, and a very bitter Dean.

A very bitter Dean, who answers all of Cas’s questions for the next two weeks with “I don’t know, why don’t you go call your boyfriend, Mick?”

So Cas… does… and then reports his findings to the Winchesters and Dean is ready to fucking explode every time Cas says “Mick said…” or “Mick thinks…”

Mick this. Mick that. Mick, Mick, Mick.

Dean spends a lot of extra time in the garage throwing tools and glaring at engines.

I reckon you could finish me off without breaking a sweat…

WHO THE FUCK EVEN SAYS SOMETHING LIKE THAT? THAT’S NOT A NORMAL WAY TO TALK TO A STRANGER.

And did Cas really not sweat? He had to. Dean tried to think back to some hunts when Cas got a bit roughed up, tried to focus his memory on Cas’s forehead, the column of his throat, which was so long and smooth up until where his stubble-

Not the point, Winchester!

And one day they’re in the middle of a hunt and they’re stumped, exhausting all of their resources and Cas begins, “I could call M-”

And that’s it!

“WE’RE NOT CALLING MICK!” Dean screams and Mary and Sam’s eyes go wide.

“Why not?” Cas pouts.

“Because I don’t want his fucking help, Cas!”

“But his library is far more-”

“I don’t fucking care!” Dean yells. “You are not calling him, Cas, and that’s final!”

Cas’s eyes narrow and, yeah, definitely not cute this time. He gets to his feet. “Are you giving me an order, Dean Winchester?”

“Yes, Castiel, I am!”

Cas turns level eyes to Sam who just nods and takes his mother’s hand. “We need to go.”

They’re gone in seconds, leaving Dean to single-handedly face the fury of an angel of the lord. 

“You are being irrational and I want to know why,” Cas says.

“I’m irrational?” Dean scoffs. “You want to get in bed with the enemy! Literally!”

And there’s that damn head tilt. “I have no intention of sharing a bed with the British Men of Letters. I don’t sleep, Dean.”

Dean slaps his hands to his face, groaning and somewhere in the back of his mind, just begging Cas to smite him and end this all. 

“Dammit, Cas, that’s not… that’s not what I meant.”

“You are referring to sexual intercourse then? Because I also have no interest in engaging with the organization in such activities.”

“Cas, you’re killing me here,” Dean says weakly, exhausted at the sheer amount of oblivion coming from this ancient creature. “Why do you want to work with them?”

“You told me to.”

“When the hell did I-”

“You’ve been telling me to call Mick for the last two weeks.”

Dean blinks, trying to remember when he had lost his damn mind in the last two weeks- “Cas, I was being sarcastic!”

“Oh.” Cas looks calmer now. “So you didn’t want me to actually call Mick?”

“No, Cas! I don’t want you to even think about that fucker!”

“Why not?”

“Oh for the love of- HE WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU!”

Back to confused. “When?”

“When we rescued Sam! Oh, Jesus Christ, Cas. Sweat! The way he looked at you after you said you didn’t sweat.”

“Humans find the inability to perspire sexually appealing?”

“No, you idiot, you are sexually appealing!”

Dean is so frustrated he can’t even process what he just said until something lights in Cas’s eyes. It’s a bit dazed and disbelieving and… hungry? 

“You find me sexually appealing?”

“I-I-I w-what?” Dean stammers.

Cas takes a step toward Dean. “You said I was sexually appealing.” 

“What? No! I-I- I meant him - Mick - he-he finds you, ugh, se-sex, um, appealing. He finds you appealing.”

The light dies and Cas frowns. “Oh. So you don’t?”

Dean has to make a big decision then. To lie or tell the truth. To play it safe or take a chance.

And, well, when has Dean Winchester ever played it safe?

“Y-yeah.”

Blue swarms on Dean until he can’t see anything because Cas’s face is too close and something soft brushes Dean’s lips. They kiss and Dean wraps his arms around Cas’s waist, diving into this moment and locking the angel in place with him. 

When they separate Cas is grinning and Dean is too dizzy to see the teasing angel. “You were jealous,” Cas breathes.

“Took you long enough to figure it out,” Dean slurs and wonders if it’s possible to get drunk off of kissing because he’s showing all the signs of a good buzz.

“Actually, Mick told me last week.”

And there it goes. “Cas! What the hell!”

“You were confusing me,” Cas argues. “You were angry all the time but you wouldn’t talk to me.”

“So you’ve just been fucking with me this entire week?”

Cas’s fingers card calmingly through Dean’s hair and Dean gets the suspicion he’s being treated like an angry cat. “My apologies, Dean. Can we go back to kissing?”

Dean has half a mind to deny Cas but Cas’s other hand is hovering just over his ass and who the hell is he trying to kid?

“Fine. But we’re gonna have a long talk about your pen pal later.”

But that talk comes several, several hours later.

Oh look I accidentally wrote a shitty drabble again oops my bad