cure for a cold

alexiabladen  asked:

Soft HC: Gabriel humming "Can't Help Falling in Love With You" to Jack while they cuddle or when Morrison can't sleep

I am honestly dying over this, like its so soft and disgustingly sappy.

I was trying to find like a nice man singing an acapella version of this song, but here is this (warning its from the conjuring 2 and has some creepy music in the last 20 seconds lol) which I like to think is Gabe singing to Fareeha to try and comfort her while her mom is on a mission, and when he gets to that “falling in love” part he just looks at Jack, who is on verge of tears, with the warmest smile.

5

Protect Him

The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas

From The Wind’s Twelve Quarters: Short Stories by Ursula Le Guin


With a clamor of bells that set the swallows soaring, the Festival of Summer came to the city Omelas, bright-towered by the sea. The rigging of the boats in harbor sparkled with flags. In the streets between houses with red roofs and painted walls, between old moss-grown gardens and under avenues of trees, past great parks and public buildings, processions moved. Some were decorous: old people in long stiff robes of mauve and grey, grave master workmen, quiet, merry women carrying their babies and chatting as they walked. In other streets the music beat faster, a shimmering of gong and tambourine, and the people went dancing, the procession was a dance. Children dodged in and out, their high calls rising like the swallows’ crossing flights, over the music and the singing. All the processions wound towards the north side of the city, where on the great water-meadow called the Green’ Fields boys and girls, naked in the bright air, with mudstained feet and ankles and long, lithe arms, exercised their restive horses before the race. The horses wore no gear at all but a halter without bit. Their manes were braided with streamers of silver, gold, and green. They flared their nostrils and pranced and boasted to one another; they were vastly excited, the horse being the only animal who has adopted our ceremonies as his own. Far off to the north and west the mountains stood up half encircling Omelas on her bay. The air of morning was so clear that the snow still crowning the Eighteen Peaks burned with white-gold fire across the miles of sunlit air, under the dark blue of the sky. There was just enough wind to make the banners that marked the racecourse snap and flutter now and then. In the silence of the broad green meadows one could hear the music winding through the city streets, farther and nearer and ever approaching, a cheerful faint sweetness of the air that from time to time trembled and gathered together and broke out into the great joyous clanging of the bells.

full text below  

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Some Ilvermorny headcanons
  • First and foremost, every day is cranberry pie day
  • While students do have robes, the clothes they wear underneath the robes are not uniforms. There is an eclectic mix of tastes, from the very serious horned serpent who wears button-downs and ties every day, to the wampus who has enchanted their graphic t-shirt to move, to the thunderbirds and pukwudgies who mutually exist solely for sweater weather.
  • Every year on James Steward’s birthday, there is a school-sponsored cranberry pie bake-off. Pukwudgie house nearly always wins. Once, thunderbird won and good lord you would think it was the civil war all over again
  • There are a lot of local professors, of course, so you get some really thick Boston accents, but there are also professors with southern belle accents who serve iced tea in class, professors with Canadian accents, professors with midwest accents, several Native American professors with smooth, lulling accents, and some Mexican professors who slip into Spanish when they get super excited about their subject. There was a visiting professor from Ireland once, and 96% of female students (and some male students) had major crushes on him.
  • Wampus house is where you go to get body-crushing, soul-lifting hugs
  • Horned serpents may be scholars, but they are also some of the keenest observers. They watch the whole school from afar and quietly play matchmaker to all of their friends. No one suspects them because - what, horned serpent? No. They don’t know about emotions. Meanwhile, the house president makes a killing on the bet she made to predict the homecoming king/queen. 
  • Thanksgiving at Ilvermorny is a spectacle that has to be seen to be believed. It’s almost bigger than Christmas. The thanksgiving feasts at Ilvermorny put Hogwarts to shame. Turkey, ham, real cranberry sauce, pies - oh my god so many pies. They’ve got cider, and tea, and cocoa like you wouldn’t believe. There are New English dishes and Southern dishes and Native dishes and Mexican dishes and Canadian dishes and West Coast dishes - essentially it’s a gigantic continental potluck, and it goes on all day long. Also, their pumpkin juice tastes 1000 times better.
  • While things like dueling and fighting with wands may be frowned upon at Hogwarts, at Ilvermorny it’s kind of just assumed that stuff happens, and the profs are very chill about it. “Just don’t kill each other okay” “just take it outside” “no casting destruction spells indoors” “bring some band-aids with you” “if you break your nose don’t bleed on your homework”
  • Pukwudgies are a pretty agreeable house over all, if not a bit salty and surly around the edges, they’ll still help you with your homework and bring you soup when you’ve got a cold. But all bets are off when they step onto the lacrosse field. Maybe its a pride thing, but pukwudgies are frikkin animals when playing lacrosse.
  • Wampus beats pukwudgie at lacrosse fairly often. They don’t actually practice that much, they just kind of win.
  • This fact has fueled a sports rivalry - friendly in wampus’ eyes, bloodthirsty in pukwudgie’s eyes. 
  • At wampus/pukwudgie games, horned serpents sell special blends of popcorn. Thunderbirds purchase, hoard, and eat 89% of this popcorn.
  • Horned serpents and pukwudgies often, though not always, end up having an unspoken rivalry in potions class.
  • Contrary to popular belief, wampus is not full of athletic jocks. However, they are the most body-positive of all of the schools, and, somewhat ironically to the stereotype, will never judge anyone for their athletic ability. They want everyone to be able to enjoy athleticism and bravery and adventure in the ways they are most able and gifted.
  • That being said, they do have the kind of student body who, if called upon, could become a minute militia.
  • When there is a freak hurricane or tornado headed headed for the school, it will be a wampus student who is patrolling the halls and telling students where to go for safety. If there is a bully in school, you had better bet your bottom dollar that s/he will be beaten to a pulp by the next day, and it will be a wampus student sporting mysteriously bloody knuckles.
  • Pukwudgies are the ones who patch up the bully; they might accidentally wind the bandages a little too tight.
  • Thunderbirds love a good game of hide-and-seek. They have a tradition of, every halloween, playing hide-and-seek in the dark in the woods.
  • Horned serpents are the students least often caught for sneaking in contraband into school. Caught being the key word. Most students learn at some point in their education that if you want a nice stiff drink, you go to horned serpent. During secret designated holidays, horned serpent common room turns into a speakeasy. 
  • Unexpectedly, it is pukwudgies who carry the most weapons and dangerous materials on their person at any given time. If a group of Ilvermorny students were going through a security check, it would be the pukwudgies held at the line while they emptied their pockets (bigger on the inside, of course) of various poisons and weapons. When asked, they would just shrug and say “just in case”.
  • The town around Ilvermorny is home to several franchised chain restaurants that, although they are no-maj brands, have been taken over by Ilvermorny alumni and thus serve predominantly wizarding patrons. Cups levitate to customers in the Starbucks, there are magic-only options on the menu; the chik-fil-a floor sweeps itself; at dominos the pizzas assemble themselves while the one clerk waits, bored, at the register. There are in-house cues for magic patrons whenever a no-maj walks in. The clerk rings a bell or taps loudly on the counter, or yells out an order than is actually a code word for stop doing magic stuff. It’s like red light green light.
  • There are some old service tunnels beneath the school left over from WWII and the Cold War. They’re like a labyrinth, and Thunderbird has a monopoly on the maps to the tunnels. Some of the more obscure tunnels have large rooms that are perfect for parties and impromptu speakeasies (lookin at you, horned serpent). Thunderbirds will rent out these rooms to fellow students at a fair and competitive rate.
  • Unlike hogwarts, Ilvermorny students are more apt to use modern technology. Electrics can be weird around witches and wizards, but they still enjoy a lot of no-maj programming. They use computers instead of quills (but still have to print off their essays, ugh,) and listen to music, and watch TV.
  • Star Trek has long been a school cult favorite. Pukwudgies have adopted Bones as their pop culture mascot; Kirk is Thunderbird’s, Spock, horned serpent. Wampus vacillates on which of these three they like most, though it must be said, when they start watching Next Gen, many wampus students find themselves enamored with Worf,
  • There has only been one no-maj to ever make it past the magic shields of Ilvermorny unaided. This instance was in 1985. His name was Chad, who at the time was 1) stoned out of his mind and 2) delivering chinese takeout to a horned serpent pulling an all-nighter. School admin found out later, and there was hell to pay. They never did track down Chad to wipe his memory.
  • Pukwudgie house does have more than its fair share of healers, so they are definitely the ones to go to for cold remedies, home made soup, the best cures for menstrual cramps, and really good back rubs.
  • However, they are also the ones to go to for less medical remedies: the best hot cocoa, the most gourmet teas, and home made food.
  • Each house has a class president who is elected for a two-year term (unless they’re a final year student, in which case they will serve one before being taken over by their VP). They have some influence within their houses, but never as much as they’d like. For instance, the thunderbird president once attempted to institute mid-day dancing parties, but school admin said no.
  • Pukwudgies are usually not super athletic, but are often very good at things like darts, archery, and waterbaloon fights.
  • Wampus takes ultimate frisbee very, very seriously.
  • Thunderbird hosts an ongoing scavenger hunt throughout the semester.
  • The women of horned serpent blow off steam and the stuffy acadmic pressures of their house by making pillow forts and watching rom coms with each other.
  • Back in the eighties some wizard created a magic version of D&D, and it has become a weekend favorite of many students across all of the houses.
  • After graduation, instead of having a class ring, it has become tradition for Ilvermorny students to make a pendant out of their golden cloak buttons.
  • Ilvermorny may be separated by inter-house squabbles much like at Hogwarts, but at the end of the day, they all leave school wearing the same blue and cranberry robes, sporting the same skill with a wand, raised to the same scrappy, witty, mod-podge tenacity that American witches and wizards embody so well.
Cuddle buddies

Originally posted by out-in-the-open

Pair: Dean x Reader (kind of)
Warning: none
Summary: Dean and the reader have an established relationship… as cuddle buddies. 


A small whimper escaped your lips as you stretched your muscles out, waking up. The room was pitch black and cold; the only warmth you got was from the strong body next to you, holding you dangerously close. 

Not ready to wake up yet, you turned over in Deans arms and nuzzled closer to him, resting your face in the crook of his neck; smiling when his arms wound tighter around your body. 
“Y/N” Dean whispered, lazily dragging his fingers over your skin, causing it to erupt in goosebumps.
“Not ready yet” you croaked, your voice a little more hoarse than usual. 
“Okay” he whispered, back closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of your body pressed against his. 

You and Dean had been sleeping together for almost two months now. But that was it. You didn’t have sex or kiss or really do anything else, you just slept together. It all started one night, you two had fallen asleep together on the couch, watching some movie, and when you woke up you played it off as nothing until he told you it was the best sleep he had ever had in his life. 

“C’mon, Y/n” Dean begged, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to the couch. 
“Tell me that wasn’t the best sleep you’ve ever had” he pressed. 
“I’ve had… better” you mumbled, leaning back into the couch. 
“Y/nnnnnnnn” he taunted, knowing that you were lying through your teeth. 
“Fine! It was the best nap I have ever had, so what?!  It’s weird, Dean. We aren’t sleeping together anymore.”
But Dean being Dean means he usually gets what he wants, and that started your addiction for sleeping together. 


“I can’t go on this hunt!” you sighed, plopping down in one of the chairs in front of Sam and Dean. 
“Why?!” Dean asked, looking baffled. 
“I think I have a-” you sneezed into the tissue in your hand. 
“a cold” you finished, sighing. You had a small fever and had been sneezing since you woke up. 
“Shit” Dean sighed, “alright, well, we’ll keep you updated. We should be home in a few days, it looks like a simple vamp nest.” 
Grabbing his bag, Dean pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
“Bye kid” Sam smiled, giving you a pat on the back as they walked out the door. 

The first night was the worst night. You had grown so used to Dean’s warmth, no matter how many blankets you had nothing was ever enough. It had taken a strong dose of NyQuil and some Tylenol PM to put you to sleep; even then, it was a pretty rough sleep. 
You woke up early, before the sun had even come up and texted Dean 
I didn’t sleep for shit last night, come home. 
To which he responded:
Me either. We’re working on it, sweetheart. Should be home in the next few days. Just hold out for me. 

You had spent the most of that day soaking in a bath and eating tomato soup. You made sure that you staying in your actual room, not wanting to take the risk and exposing Dean’s room with your germs. 

The next day, you were really spent. You had no energy to do anything, so you just took your medicine and watched movies in and out of consciousness. Sam and Dean had both left you a few voicemails, telling you how the case was going and just keeping you updated which you greatly appreciated. 

By the fifth day, you felt better, having read that if you cut up white onions and place it around the home, especially in the room of the sick person they somehow absorb the bacteria and viruses and rid you of your cold. 

Even though you had been feeling better, you still were exhausted. You had no idea how awful sleeping was without Dean there to keep you warm and safe. 
Sitting in the library, you were reading a few lore books you had found in the basement of the bunker when they brothers walked in.
“Y/N” Deans voice called out for you as he dropped his duffel bag on the floor. 
“Yeah?” you asked, stepping out of the library and looking at him. 
“My room. Now, we’re taking a nap” his tone was so assertive and demanding, it turned you on a little bit.
“What was that about?” you asked Sam as Dean had disappeared down the hallway. 
“He hasn’t slept since we left,” Sam chuckled, winking at you. Rolling your eyes, you followed Dean down the hall and into his room. 

It was dark, just how the both of you needed it to be. Slipping your jeans and bra off, you climbed into bed with dean and softly moaned at the feeling of his arms around your waist. 
“Fuck, I missed you” you whispered, cuddling your head into his chest. 
“I missed you too, sweetheart” Dean sighed, running his fingers through your hair, basking in the feeling of you back in his arms. 

Useful Spices

Cayenne: Promotes circulations and boosts metabolism.

Turmeric: This spice is an immune champion. It boosts production of antioxidants and helps in the reduction of inflammation. Some claim that if you drink Turmeric-root tea daily you will live a long, healthy life.

Cumin: Is loaded with Phytochemicals, antioxidants, iron, copper, calcium, potassium, manganese, selenium, zinc, magnesium, and high amounts of B-complex. It also helps with insomnia.

Cilantro (Coriander): Is a good source of iron, magnesium, Phytonutrients, flavonoids, and are also very high in dietary fiber. Cilantro as been used for thousands of years as a digestive &  helping lower blood sugar as it has hypoglycemic properties.

Parsley: Is a nutrient-rich and detoxifying herb which acts as an anti-inflammatory  and anti-spasmodic, helping conditions from colic to indigestion.  Rub it on itchy skin for instant relief.

Sage: Very beneficial in treating gum and throat infections. Sage tea can help ease depression and anxiety as well. 

Ginger: Stimulates circulations and it is an excellent digestive, aiding in absorption of food and minimizing bloat.

Cinnamon: Can help lower cholesterol.

Thyme: Is a cure for hangovers and doubles to alleviate colds and bronchitis.

Clove: Is an anti-fungal and alleviates toothache.

Chicken soup for your health

Okay, so this is the recipe for my mothers chicken soup. My mom is a kitchen witch and this shit works wonders on any illness I have ever had. So let’s get to it Witches. Chicken soup to cure all ills.

- [ ] Jewish penicillin, a recipe.( this is what my mom has ever called it. Supposedly she learned it from an old Jewish woman)

- [ ] Needed equipment:
- [ ] 1 large stock pot
- [ ] 1 pair tongs
- [ ] 1 wooden spoon
- [ ] 1 colander

- [ ] Ingredients:

- [ ] 1 whole chicken, bone in

- [ ] 1tbs white or apple cider vinegar

- [ ] About a cup each of Carrots, celery,onion (or leek, if you prefer) medium dice (add more veg if you see fit!! This is very basic recipe)

- [ ] 3 cloves crushed garlic ( you can use more if you want, this is an approximation. Also garlic helps with blood flow so, if you are using it as a remedy you can’t reeeeaaaaally have too much)

- [ ] 1-3 bay leaves

- [ ] To personal taste : salt, pepper, parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme and any other spices you would like

- [ ] How to do the thing:

- [ ] Early in the day ( this shit takes a while) take your whole chicken and place it in the stock pot. Just barely cover with water , add salt and pepper. Let it simmer until the meat is tender and falling off the bones. Use your handy dandy tongs to aid in this process!! Add vinegar and veggies and the bay leafs and other spices. Add more liquid as need it will reduce down quite a bit. Simmer for one and a half to two hours more (add more liquid if you feel it has cooked down too much) . Remove bones and serve!!!

- [ ] Note: you can add egg noodles to the broth at the tail end or make them separately and add later. (That’s where the colander comes in handy)Me, I don’t like noodles in my chicken soup, I know, I’m a weirdo.

The magic: While I cook this I visualise being healthy, I put my will in while I stir and think of my mother, warm and wonderful woman that she is. If you feel the need say a spell over it, weave your words as you stir ( clockwise). If you have quartz charged, set it near the stove or on the lid for the stock pot while you cook.

HAPPY cooking my dears!!

Cold
The Cure
Cold

Scarred
your back was turned
curled like an embryo
take another face
you will be kissed again
i was cold as i mouthed the words
and crawled across the mirror
i wait
await the next breath
your name
like ice into my heart
a shallow grave
a monument to the ruined age
ice in my eyes
and eyes like ice don’t move
screaming at the moon
another past time
your name
like ice into my heart
Everything as cold as life
can no one save you?
everything
as cold as silence
and you never say a word
your name
like ice into my heart
your name
like ice into my heart

The Groke

The Groke first appears in Finn Family Moomintroll, as the horrible creature who chases Thingumy and Bob. Her name is also something akin to a curse among all other characters, as they often use it to frighten small children or express how angry they are. At the same time, Moominmamma tells us how it’s not appropriate to talk about The Groke; not about her or to her. If you talk about her, she will get bigger and come after you. It’s best to talk around the subject and ignore her. In a manner The Groke is similiar to Hattifatteners; outsiders who are both strange and threathening. These creatures live in the margins of the proper life and just thinking about them can lead you down the wrong path. Characters like these must have been exciting for Tove to create; she loved all things scary and unknown ever since she was a little girl.


The Groke’s role adjusted as the stories and style changed in the books. First Moomin books are honest children’s stories. Text is more straightforward, action is clear and threaths come from outside. Everything ends happily. Starting from Moominland Midwinter the books take a turn towards more mature story telling and become more targeted towards older audiences (but still keep the child-friendly touch!). In the first books the Groke is one of these outside threaths that must be overcome. She is a monster that comes to the valley, demanding Thingumy and Bob to return her jewel. The Groke can also be seen to represent the law, as she is trying to take away the forbidden love (jewel) from Thingumy and Bob (Tove and Viveca). The Swedish name of The Groke (Mårran) was actually a word Tove and Viveca used to describe hatred towards homosexuality.


In ”Moominland Midwinter” and especially in ”Moominpappa at sea”, The Groke has evolved into a more complex character. She can be seen as the very symbol of loneliness. She is forever cold and always follows the light. The cruelty of her yearning is that whenever she approaches a lantern or a candle she just makes it go out. Moomin event hinks that entire winter must belong to the Groke! Like Moominmamma tells us, The Groke has not truly done anything mean. She is just so cold that it’s impossible to be with her. She also hints that maybe the reason The Groke is like that is because nobody has ever cared about her.


The Groke is a difficult character to determine and even Tove Jansson herself declined to explain her. Many people who have analyzed Moomin books have still been able to see a connection between The Groke and depression. Depression was a familiar guest in the Jansson family and Tove struggled with it her entire life. It’s a topic that is always hidden and much like The Groke, it freezes the warmth. This is most evident in ”Moominpappa and the sea”. Tove wrote the book after her father had passed away. The Groke follows the Moomin family and haunts Moomintroll through the whole book, where her role can be seen to represent the sadness and depression Tove experienced when she lost her father. In the end, the only way to cure The Groke of her coldness is to embrace her. Moomintroll comes to meet her at the beach; this act or caring makes The Groke dance and sing.


After The Groke leaves, Moomintroll touched the sand and realized it’s warm. Tove said that she ”warmed the Groke” in the book.

As a cute sidenote: many readers often wished that Tove would give The Groke a friend. Tove declined because a warm Groke served no literally purpose. But in an answer to one letter she did envision a family for the Groke. She told that there is a herr-mårra (Mr Groke) and when the two Grokes meet, they will become warm. Afterwards they have small groke-children, morits (moriter). These children are warm.

Found this neat infographic :D

With bettafix/melafix:
I’ve heard both that it helps and that it hurts…I don’t have a personal opinion on it because I don’t know how it’s supposed to help or hinder…I’ve heard that it coats the labrynth organ and you can easily overdose the meds and kill your fish. But I’ve also heard that as long as you use less than the dose prescribed on the bottle, it can be beneficial.

I DO know that it’s basically tea tree oil, so if you ever use it, err on the side of caution.

I wonder if the intended effect is to make the fish rest more? Kind of like taking niquil for a cold…it doesn’t cure the cold, but it makes you sleepy so you rest more and your body can concentrate it’s energy on fighting that cold…

With Epsom salt: Unscented, pure stuff…or aquarium salt in case you’re worried you may use the Epsom salt incorrectly♡

With ANY sick betta: The cleanest warm water you can give them will do wonders! Especially for things like fin melt/fin rot :)

(Feel free to add onto this info)

anonymous asked:

If growing up with a doctor/medicine hating russian grandmother has taught me anything, it's that breathing in boiled potato steam can cure all illnesses. Now all I can think of is Yuuri getting a cold and Victor insisting that "yes, you must inhale the potato steam. I promise it will help- yUURI GET BACK HERE AND BREATHE THE POTATO STEAM ITS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD BABE PLEASE"

I CAN’T BREATHE

Miscellaneous

* =NSFW/NSFW(ish)

Stranger Things

Family - by @phalangewrites  ~ Hopper (+ El)

* NSFW Alphabet - by @chief-of-my-heart ~ Hopper

 A Cold One For Benny - ^^^ ~ Hopper

* Phone Sex - ^^^ ~ Hopper

The Way to a Man’s Heart: Donuts - ^^^ ~ Hopper

* Stay - ^^^ ~ Hopper

It’s Too Cold to Leave - by @robothumpycamel Hopper

Sunday - by @bubble-tea-bunny ~ Hopper

Giving Steve A Gift - by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord ~ Steve

Criminal Minds

The Most Magical Place on Earth - by @omg-imagine ~ Hotch (+ Jack)

Pranksters - by @kaunis-sielu ~ Hotch

Personal Matter - by @better-than-waking-up ~ Emily

NCIS
I Love You - by @lucifersagents ~ Gibbs

Be Mine? - by @psychadelickate ~ Gibbs

Stargazing - by @spaceemonkeyyxd ~ Gibbs

The Walking Dead

* Sweater Weather - by @thranduilsperkybutt ~ Negan

Spending Time With Father Gabriel - ^^^ ~ Gabriel

Holding Your Child For the First Time - ^^^ ~  Simon

Clean Up - by @lucifers-trash-stash ~ Merle

* Morning After - by @yondu-gonna-do-about-it ~ Merle

* A Cure For Boredom - ^^^ ~ Merle 

* Bang Bang - ^^^ ~ Merle

* Ice Cold - ^^^ ~ Merle

* Warmth - ^^^ ~ Merle

* NSFW Alphabet - by @underratedcharactersimagines ~ Rick

* NSFW Alphabet - ^^^ ~ Gabriel

* NSFW Alphabet - ^^^ ~ Negan

Touch Starved - ^^^ ~ Merle

Being Gentle With You - ^^^ ~ Merle

* Laundry Day - by @multi-villain-imagines ~ Merle

Calling for Rick in Your Sleep - by @thewalkingdead-imagine ~ Rick

Jealous - by @thewalkingdead-imagines ~ Negan

Making Out  - ^^^ ~ Daryl

It’s All Coming Back to Me - by @thewalkingdeadimaginings ~ Abraham

How You Met - by @brrahbrrahcharacterimagines ~ Preference

Star Trek

* An Ode to Small Victories - by @outside-the-government ~ Bones

Follower Ficlet 17 - ^^^ ~ Bones

Falling Part 1  Part 2- by @annathewitch  ~ Bones

Seeing You - by @writingsformuse ~ Bones

Third Time’s The Charm - ^^^ ~ Bones

The Wooing of Leonard McCoy Part 1 Part 2 Epilogue  - by @janeykath318 ~ Bones

* Starships - by @youre-on-a-starship ~ Scotty

* Lazy Morning - by @wickedsingularity ~ Bones

* Self Service - by @trade-baby-blues ~ Bones

When The Day Met The Night - by @blueoftheenterprise ~ Spock

Giggles - by @bugalouie ~ Bones

Sons of Anarchy

Ride or Die - by @tigtragerlover Happy

Paint - by @redwood-writer ~ Happy

Hide & Seek & Slushes - ^^^ ~ Juice

Homecoming Surprise - by @juiceboxxortiz ~ Juice

Untitled - by @samcroimagine ~ Jax

Falling Asleep on Him - by @underratedcharactersimagines ~ Chibs

Hidden - by @imaginesofwonder ~ Happy

Luna - by @velvetxtrager ~ Jax

* Back to the Start - by @middle–fingering ~ Juice

Send Them A Picture of Your Kid - ^^^ ~ Preference

Dating Headcanons - by @the-bat-writes-imagines ~ Juice

* NSFW Alphabet - by @jaaxsoadeaanspn ~ Happy

* Sinful Sunday - by @kittenofdoomage ~ Jax

Supernatural

* Sinful Sunday - by @kittenofdoomage ~ Crowley

* Sinful Sunday - ^^^ ~ Dean

* Sinful Sunday - ^^^ ~ Castiel

Lovesick - by @lucifersagents ~ Lucifer

Game of Thrones

Jon Giving You Orders - by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord ~ Jon

Size Kink - by @underratedcharactersimagines ~ Khal Drogo

They Learn They Are Going to be a Father - ^^^ ~ Preference

* Untitled - by @thedirtygotconfessions ~ Sandor

Touch Starved - ^^^ ~ Roose

Kingsman

Flirting - by @underratedcharactersimagines  ~ Merlin

Falling Asleep on Eggsy - ^^^ ~ Eggsy

Secretly Dating - ^^^ ~ Harry

Possessive - ^^^ ~ Harry

Sexually Frustrated - ^^^ ~ Merlin

Sweet Love - by @sanjariti ~ Eggsy

Wonder Woman

Needing to Kiss to Hide From the Bad Guys- by @imagine-upon-a-star ~ Steve


Previous Lists: Marvel | Miscellaneous | Star Trek (Now part of Miscellaneous)

The Elsewhere Child

He was supposed to take my memories when he brought me here, the seelie knight, who had been commanded to escort me home with a simple “take it away, it’s too old now and it bores me” from the noble who had kept me for the past while. I traded him my singing voice for them though, and now where once sweet music poured from my lips only hoarse and untuned notes fall out without any of the tempo or melody they had before. Now I think I made a bad trade. It might have been better, if I didn’t remember, or remembered something else entirely.

I stare at the boy next to me in the circle, I was asked to join this circle as a way to make me feel part of something, part of a circle. They call the circle a support group for abducted children. Children who were abducted and got away, that is, I don’t think there’s a support group for those currently abducted. Their abductors wouldn’t allow them to attend, I suppose. The boy is speaking about the man who touched him, speaking of the horrible way he loved that man, because he was a child, and he had to love someone. Are his memories true? Or is he like me? Did a faerie take him away, and replace the memories from Under the Hill with these tragedies? Why? Did he commit some crime? I cannot say.

I am fascinated by the girl who sits next to the girl directly across from me in the circle. She tells us to call her Angie. She wears ratty clothes, not the sort of poor chic that seems to be an underlying trend, with jackets made of patches and ribbed cloth sold at malls, but real grunge. The tears in her sleeves reveal razor scars, her hair is short, she wants to look tough, she wants people to cross the street to get away from her when they see her coming. She is not tough. She is nervous, always nervous, always afraid, though she hides it well. None of these things are too interesting to me, those things I can see anywhere, but I thought context would be important so that the fact that she’s a pathological liar would not be the only thing you knew about her.

She is a pathological liar.

Her lies fascinate me.

After group chat, I take her aside and we talk, sometimes just for a few minutes, sometimes for hours, and I watch her fabricate thousands of untruths, from tiny white ones to huge fantastical ones as bright and colorful as her life has never been. Some days, I believe everything she says and some days I question each word, trying to figure out her secret.

It’s a strange thing, I was taken before I really knew my name, and each faerie that’s kept me (I was a pet for them) called me something different. Do I even have a true name? I’ve been Jane Doe since I showed up, stumbling barefoot and confused into a police station moments after midnight (at least the knight knew to leave me near a place of authority), so I’ve been introducing myself as Roe, like the deer. They ran my DNA through the missing children’s database (I didn’t understand what that was at first, was shocked at how closely humans had approximated magic with computers), but there was no match. I told them I didn’t know how long ago I’d been abducted, and suggested that it might have been before the database was made. They laughed and said I was eighteen, and DNA technology had been around much longer than me. I tried to explain that time was different where I had been kept, but they simply patted me on my head and told me they were sure that it seemed that way to me at the time.

They stared at me worriedly when one of them brought me a McDonald’s Happy Meal, and I asked what she wanted for it. She told me nothing. No one here ever asks for anything besides courtesy in return for their food, but old habits are hard to break. Even now, in my foster home, I cannot help insisting that my hosts confirm that this food is a gift freely given. They asked me to help them cook and I broke down in tears because there was a cast iron skillet on the stove (“Please don’t make me, iron burns, iron burns, and it gets under your skin and makes you go grey and lifeless like a flower severed from its roots, plea-please, please don’t make me”). It took them an hour to convince me that they weren’t trying to force me to poison myself, and the food burned (“I said I would help you, you asked me to cook and I agreed, but, but please don’t make me, it burns, it’ll burn me!” “It’s alright darling, you don’t have to cook if you don’t want to.” “But I said I would! It was an oath!” “We’re sorry, we wouldn’t have asked if we’d known it would upset you, you can help some other way if you like.” “You… absolve me of my oath?” “Yes, of course we do darling!”).

I am more comfortable with iron now, I am not one of the Fair Folk, after all, it will not harm me. Correction, a blade of iron would harm me, but not because it was made of iron. It does, however, mess with my glamor.

It is a difficult thing, growing up bathed in magic and yet to have none of your own. A pixie once spoke of how she envied my hair, and I said, on impulse, “do you want it?” So a trade was made. She gave me the ability to change my appearance, and she walked away with my hair. I expected my hair to grow back after a time though… it did not. With my glamor I can have the appearance of having whatever hair I please, and sometimes I change it daily, but when I sleep or when iron is near my bare head is revealed. It is assumed by my hosts and everyone around me that I have many wigs, I have told them I do not, but they don’t believe in magic, so they insist on believing this instead.

I hide when I hear thunder, duck into a bathroom and put everything on backward and inside out if I’m in public, or simply sit quiet if I’m home. The first time I did this, it shook me to my core when someone told me “You know, your shirt is on backward.” I started to panic, until I realized that I could see myself too. It was a revelation, discovering that there was something humans could see that the Good Neighbors couldn’t.

It still boggles my mind how much people throw away, tears and menstrual blood caught on napkins, or gifts from that one aunt that they held onto for so long for the sentimental value but can’t keep now because they have to move into a smaller apartment, or the shirt they can’t wear anymore because it smells like their ex. They could trade these items to faeries for so many things, and yet they simply throw them away. What a waste.

My hosts insisted I should have a proper education, and after three years of homeschooling (to get me caught up) I applied to attend the local state college. There I found more people who fascinate me the way Angie does. There’s Lisa, who fights for animal rights, and Kyle, the leader of the Gay Straight Alliance group, and Riley, who’s going into the Peace Corps next year because they want to help the world. I ask them all the time why they do what they do, what they expect to get back, and they tell me that ideally they’ll make the world a better place, and that will pay them back eventually, but that they don’t do it for what they’ll get back, they do it because it’s right. I don’t understand. There’s Cheyenne, who always gets into intense political debates with other people over dinner in the cafeteria, and she believes so intensely about things that don’t even affect her, and she fights for them, and she tells me she does this because it’s right, and I don’t understand. I’ve never met anyone who cared about anything other than themselves Under the Hill. Faeries can’t lie, they can’t go back on their word, they honor their deals and make sure you honor them too, they repay debts and ensure they’re repaid in turn, they amuse themselves playing or squabbling over power, but they do not do things for free. They don’t care about things for free. They don’t defend the innocent, protect the weak, or forgive the ignorant. The culture shock coming here is bewildering.

If I could I’d honor my debts, leave a pile of gold at the doorstep of everyone who’s done me a kindness, but I have not the magic to do so. The drainage ponds hold no sirens, the falling snow has no frolicking pixies between its flakes, there is no magic for me to use here… or is there?

Perhaps I can’t call upon the magic Under the Hill, perhaps I can’t summon gold or make deals with darklings, but I can find magic here, I’ve seen others do it. I’ve seen a moon so beautiful it sends shivers down your spine captured by a little lense-box and put onto thick shiny paper. I’ve seen songs and stories written with such emotion that it moves those who hear them to tears, to laughter, to dancing, to life. I’ve seen kitchen witches cure colds with hot chicken soup, and I’ve seen holy men ward off tricksters they can’t even see with the power of their belief.

Perhaps I can find a way to create my own magic, and do what other people seem to strive to do to repay their debts. Perhaps I can make the world a better place, and learn the magic of humanity. And as for the places where magic does live? Where the boundary between worlds is thin and the drainage ponds and snowflakes carry faerie magic within? …I think I’ll be staying far away, for my part. I might still have a lot to learn, but I think I like it better here.