INFP: Special order soap. It tastes like bug spray and menthol. This soap was made for certain purposes; being eaten was not one of them. You congratulate yourself on being such a rebel as you begin to see the lights. 8/10
ENFP: Children’s soap. It smells and tastes exotic, but you’re not completely sure what it’s supposed to be. The happy koala on the bottle isn’t much of a clue. It’s a bit astringent. It burns as you swallow. You’re glad your tongue is clean, though. You hiccup, and a bubble leaves your mouth. 5/10
INFJ: Dishwasher soap. Stronger than its cousin, dish soap, but significantly more likely to kill you. It leaves a soft white powder residue on the burns it creates on your tongue. This is somehow your aesthetic. It tastes like a chemical burn and a Tumblr moodboard. You’re pleased. 10/10
ENFJ: Dish soap. It smells like what someone who has never seen a real, whole coconut before would imagine that coconut to smell like. It’s a bit slimy. No matter how much you heave, you can’t seem to get the residue off of your tongue. It begins to sting. 4/10
ISFP: Hotel soap. Completely horrible. No matter what you do, you can’t get the taste out of your mouth afterwards. You look at the crumpled wrapper on your borrowed bathroom counter. You can’t decide if it’s brown or gray. It was complimentary, so you really have nothing to complain about, you remind yourself. There are bubbles in the cracks between your teeth. You hope this will trick your dentist into thinking you actually flossed tomorrow. It does. You feel triumphant as he scrapes the oily residue off of your incisors, perplexed. You’ll never tell. 9/10
ESFP: Handmade soap. You smushed some stuff around in a bucket, and this is the resultant creation. It tastes like oil-flavored toothpaste. The ingredients you bought off of eBay probably weren’t poisonous. You’re not sure how to get the stuff out of this bucket and into a usable container. It will have to do – you decide this is probably more rustic anyway. As one hand shoves another chunk into your mouth, the other increases the price of your soap tenfold on your Etsy store. You smile in the dark, the light from your computer giving your soapy teeth a pallid glow. Multicolored spots begin to dance in your eyes. You take another bite. 7/10
ISFJ: Microbead soap. Tastes like a ruined environment and clogged waterways. You’re not sure if fish are capable of feeling sad. The beads scrape and scratch at your gums as you swish before you swallow. You feel them peel away every unnecessary dead cell in your mouth. You look into the empty bottle, wishing there was more. You open another. Your head begins to vibrate as your stomach begins to twist. You comfort yourself with the knowledge that your blood will finally be clean. 6/10
ESFJ: Bar soap. The original. The classic. It tastes like your childhood – at least the parts when your mother caught you when you swore. Nutty aftertaste with mild notes at the beginning, but now that you’ve finished chewing, it just tastes like soap. You remember why you hated it. You spit it out. You wonder if you’ll go blind. 5/10
ISTP: Hand soap. Perfumey and bland. It eases down your throat as you slurp from the opened bottle. You wonder if it has been watered down. You wonder whose soap this is. You wonder how you ended up in this bathroom, in this house. Your stomach begins to quelch as you stagger outside. You lurch towards the next house, wondering if the soap in another bathroom will taste any different - if it will have answers. It won’t. 3/10
ESTP: Shampoo. Creamy and metallic. It goes down smoothly as you chug from the aesthetically-molded plastic bottle. You hurry. When it’s empty, you quietly slip from this shower, from this house. You move through the night towards the house next door. Maybe their selection will finally satiate you. You will never be full. 9/10
ISTJ: Expensive department store soap. Salty and vaguely acrid. It tastes like licking a grandma. There’s a hint of alcohol – probably the perfumes. You look around your dimly-lit bathroom as you sit on the edge of your tub and feel dead inside. You look at the delicate lettering on the elegant packaging and feel alive. You take another bite. It flakes into beige icing between your teeth. 6/10
ESTJ: Laundry soap. It smells absolutely fantastic, but is so concentrated that you end up in the emergency room. It tastes like deception and suds. Tiny bubbles line your lips. You realize you forgot to start the dryer before the ambulance came. You can no longer tell if it’s the soap or you that’s foaming. It’s soft. You wonder if you’re finally clean as you begin to fade. 2/10
INTJ: Novelty soap. The fragrance of this bar is particularly powerful. The smell is so strong that your brain is tricked into thinking it’s the flavor as well; this prevents you from noticing your discomfort as it slowly erodes away at your lips. You stare at the box, trying to decide if Blue Strawberry Bonanza is a typo. You’re not sure. The prize inside lends extra crunch, but you’re spitting bubbles for an hour afterwards. This is the worst $27 you have ever spent. 7/10
ENTJ: Straight lye. It hurts. At a pH of 13, it’s obviously very efficient – but it will wash you away as well as the grime. It burns. At least you didn’t waste your money on one of those useless scented soaps. Now it hurts AND burns. You reassure yourself with your pragmatism as you begin to die. It tastes like blood. 0/10
INTP: Holiday soap. Special, fragrant, and full of glitter. It tastes horrible when consumed, yet this is your fifth sip. You take your sixth. You look at the leering gingerbread man on the peeling sticker and don’t understand why he can’t taste the way he looks just this once. You decide to give him another chance. It doesn’t work. He tastes the same. 2/10
ENTP: Car wash soap. You’ve never felt so alive, so powerful. The industrial foam fills your mouth, your throat, your lungs. It tastes like wax and fire. This is what it means to be an extrovert. The suds drip from your eyelashes just long enough for you to see the brushes heading towards you. They’re coming. You’re not afraid. They said that you shouldn’t, that you couldn’t. You raise your fists above your head and push out a gurgled scream. You’ll show them. 1/10
Do you ever just feel like breaking down because of the pressure build up and so much stress, new things to worry about keep popping up, things you thought you were over come up again, but worse... It's been so long... I wish I could just let go sometimes
Here we continue my jar spell series! This one in particular is pretty easy :) It can be used for a variety of different things - depending on what you want! You can use it for a wish, or to help you succeed in something you want to do. This spell’s purpose will differ with the intent you charge it with!
For this spell, I used…
Essential oil of your choice (that relates to your wish! feel free to ask me about any oil correspondences :))
Feel free to use as many of these ingredients or as few as you like; substitute items, replace them, and add your own! Let me know how it goes ❤️❤️
you know what? I am bitter. and angry. so fucking angry. I don’t think I’ve let it consume me though. love and happiness surround me. I can move on and live my life. especially now that you are no longer a part of it. but I’d rather be angry than to feel nothing at all. being numb and feeling nothing doesn’t make it disappear. it doesn’t make you disappear. and it sure as hell doesn’t make me feel better. I will never forgive you. I will never forget what happened. I’ll carry the way you hurt me around for the rest of my life as a reminder. I will never let that kind of toxicity back into my life. you said I was the one who ruined this relationship but that was you placing blame because you didn’t want to own up to your mistakes and take responsibility. you’re a sad pathetic excuse of a person. and I have one thing to say to you.
The Good Ol’ Baton: A Bellamy Blake & Bellarke Meta
It still depresses me that the baton is completely empty when Bellamy gets to space.
The baton is a symbol of power, a nod to the “youth inheriting the earth” and becoming leaders in their own rights as suggested by Kane in Echoes (4x01).
The last time we saw the baton was in late season one, when the Arkers have returned to earth and Jaha is left behind. He opens the bottle, forgoing the original wishes of “opening it on earth.” I suppose he thought that it was good enough. His people made it, they’re safe. So why not crack open the bottle to celebrate or cope with being all alone?
Cut to Praimfaya (4x13). The 97 year-old bottle of scotch is now empty. Bellamy Blake picks it up, looking at the burning earth from a window on the Ark’s last ring, deep in thought, reminiscing.
One thing that I want to make clear in all of this is that Bellamy’s always been a leader.
He’s fallen in line behind some of Skaikru’s elders over the seasons, namely Pike and Kane, but he’s always had a spark that encourages people to follow him. He sways opinions and inspires, encouraging people to take action when they may not have otherwise. It’s a powerful albeit dangerous trait to have, especially because Bellamy tends to act on impulse, being more of a feeler than a thinker.
“People follow you, you inspire them because of this (your heart),” Clarke tells him with a smile, placing a hand on his chest. She reaches up and touches his temple. “But in order for us to survive, you need to use this (your head), too.”
It is my personal opinion that him placing a hand on the baton is meant to demonstrate a transfer of power. In that moment, he becomes a true leader and accepts that responsibility wholeheartedly. He’s going to try his best to take care of the people he loves, like always. He’s determined that they’re going to find a way to survive together- to ride out five years in space and find a way for all of them to get back to earth alive.
But there is also significance of the baton in relation to Bellarke.
In Blood Must Have Blood, Pt. 2 (2x16), there’s a scene that all Bellarke shippers remember clear as day:
“I think we deserve a drink,” Bellamy says, watching as their people reenter camp. They’ve won the day. They’ve saved everyone. They can be at peace now.
Clarke shakes her head. “Have one for me.”
Needless to say, they still haven’t gotten that drink.
The fact that the bottle is empty when Bellamy finds it has more significance than we give credit, in my opinion.
He picks up the baton and accepts his role as a leader, but it all feels surprisingly empty (pun intended). This isn’t what he wants, not completely. Something- or someone, moreover- is missing. I think that this moment in particular does an excellent job of demonstrating who:
“I left her behind,” he says, looking through the window at a dark space station. She couldn’t do it. Something must have gone wrong. His eyes shift to the floor of the cockpit, speaking mostly to himself despite all of the people around him. “I left her behind and we all die anyway.”
The station lights up seconds later. They’re going to make it.
He stands in front of the window for a few moments, and Raven joins him.
“She saved us again,” she says. “You think we can do this without her?”
“If we don’t, she died in vain, and I’m not gonna let that happen.”
It becomes clear that all he’s going to do is for Clarke, to honor her name and memory. He’s going to lead. He’s going to protect. In five years, he’s going to get them all back to earth. And he’s going to do all of it for her.
It just makes him sad that the one thing he can’t do now is what she asked him months ago; “have one (a drink) for me.”