i do open my own jars

anonymous asked:

I keep thinking of full moons and how when there's an eclipse werewolves lose their powers but sometimes there's partial eclipses and so it's like do they still have their strength? Or can they just open really tough pickle jars?? How often does stiles take the opportunity to mark Derek up during the partial eclipse because he doesnt heal as quickly?? I have so many questions!

This is too fucking good Nonnie, and I know you didn’t ask for this but you really sparked my muse!


“Here.” 

Stiles jumped at bit at the sudden voice in his ear, the body heat of another warmed his back, and hands covered his own only to remove the jar from his grasp. The tightly packed jam jar strained against the force Derek was putting on it’s lid…

…but it wasn’t opening in .25 seconds. It took Derek a second to actually open it and it seemed like a small struggle if he was being honest. 

“What is wrong with you? Are you sick? Dying?” Stiles asked, taking the jar away and setting it down before focusing back on his boyfriend. 

The Hale-Glare-Eyebrows-Of-Doom™ were pointed directly at him, all furrowed and drawn in like something personally offended him, “I’m not dying Stiles–”

“Then why did you semi-struggle to open the jar?” 

“Did you forget what day it is?” Derek asked. 

Stiles paused, thinking if he’d missed anything important, “uh…it’s Tuesday?”

“The the partial lunar eclipse.” 

Oh. 

There was a moment of silence before Stiles just straight up pinched Derek on his arm, and hard. Two things happened; Derek actually seemed in pain and beneath where he’d pinched him a small dark mark was appearing and not fading. In fact it looked like it was bruising. 

“Stiles, what the fuck?” Derek winced, rubbing at his arm. 

“Dude you’re not healing–” 

“Don’t call me dude.” 

“–but it’s not a full lunar eclipse so you’re not powerless, what can you do other than get pinched?” Stiles asked, way more curious about this than his sandwich. 

Derek stepped back, leaning his hip against the counter, with his eyes flashing blue for a split second, “I can do the fangs, claws and eyes…but the hearing, smell, healing, and strength are weaker for tonight.” 

Stiles felt his face lift in shock, his eyebrows meshing with his hairline as he soaked in the new information. He kind of forgot about the lunar eclipses after the Darach thing, and he didn’t even consider partial eclipses being able to affect werewolves. 

He was about to ask how it all worked when another more scandalous thought popped into his mind. His face drew back in a smirk, and Derek shrank a little. The guy was probably worried considering he couldn’t rely on his senses anymore to tell what Stiles was feeling. 

“So…lets say we go up to the bedroom right now…are you saying I could mark you up and it would stay?” Stiles asked. 

The growl that radiated through the room was more than an answer. Somehow they found themselves upstairs in bed, catching their breath after probably the hottest sex they’ve ever had. For the first time ever they were both marked up with bruises, welts, and if Stiles raked his fingernails down Derek’s back for good measure…well they’ll heal tomorrow. 

“Have I ever told you that you look hot like this?” Stiles asked, admiring the trail of hickies along Derek’s neck and collarbone. 

Derek rolled his eyes playfully, “I’ll make sure to clear my schedule for the next eclipse.” 


Damn Nonnie, you know how to get a girl writing :D

Boutèy de Baron: Enemy Begone

A spell bottle from me to you.

Hello, this is my first time posting one of my own concoctions. A little spell bottle I’m giving out from my personal set of spells. Open for all, this isn’t culturally based or anything. So, you are free to use it as you please. 

“What’s this little bad boy do?”, you must be asking yourself. Well, It’s gonna be your best friend during the tough times when you might not have many friends. This bottle is a spell that’ll keep you protected from the will of those who plot against you and help with keeping your allies close. Sometimes you have to deal with nasty forces, this bottle will help stop any negative effects.

A great thing about this bottle is it’s quite literally an altar cleaner. Some of the items involved are leftovers from the works you may already be doing. So, scrounge up your scraps, cause you gonna need them.

Ingredients

  • 2 Cinnamon Sticks
  • 4 Matches (Burned from a previous working)
  • Black Salt
  • White Salt
  • Dried Red Flowers
  • Strong Cologne
  • Melted Wax (From previous working)
  • Strong liquor (Completely optional)
  • Strand of your own hair
  • Red Chili Powder
  • Incense Ashes (Burned from a previous working)
  • Black Pepper
  • A few droplets of water
  • Dragon’s Blood. (Oil, Incense, etc.) (As long as the essence is there)

Items

  • Glass Bottle or Jar (A vessel that is glass and you can seal)
  • Black String, Cloth, or Tape

Now that you have all the items together, you are going to put the ingredients in the bottle one by one. While doing so, focus on those who may be sending harm your way. Focus on their faces, names, or actions against you. Once you have focused, begin picturing yourself. Picture yourself unaffected. Feel yourself be free of all the chains they wish to hold you back with. When this is complete and all the ingrediants are all in the bottle, you can now close the top. Begin shaking the bottle. Any frustrations that you may have on your journey will now belong to the bottle. State it out loud, “Any frustrations I may have, this bottle will receive.”

The final step is  to cover the bottle in a black covering. The contents do not have to be completely hidden, simply shaded a bit. After thie contents are shaded, you have now just finished my “Enemy Begone” Bottle. 

May no one stand in your way 

The Do’s and Don’ts of caring for a loved one with a BFRB

Let me preface this by saying that I am not a medical professional (or even an adult for that matter). However, I do have the experience of being a sufferer of trichotillomania for several years with an unsupportive family. I also know that there are very limited resources when it comes to sufferers of BFRBs and their friends/significant others/family. BFRBs manifest differently to different people, so take this all with a grain of salt. These are just things that have found to be true in my years of struggling with my trich, and if you are a sufferer, feel free to add on anything that I have missed! I hope that this can be a little helpful!

Do Not:

Slap/grab/pull/or have any contact with their hands at all

If you think you are helping with this, you are gravely mistaken. Most times we will know if we’re picking/pulling, with a few exceptions. Even if we are not aware, this reaction is never okay, much less helpful.

Get visibly angry/frustrated/upset

Believe it or not, we are not doing any of this on purpose or for fun! It’s quite the nightmarish condition, with almost no help available to us at all, despite it being more common than you would think. We are more frustrated at ourselves than you will ever be at us, so adding your frustration on top of it all will only make it considerably worse. Let me echo the first phrase none of this is done on purpose or ‘’for funsies’’ if you get angry there is literally no reason for it and you’re being an asshole to a person who’s already suffering. Any display of frustration or aggression will most likely make your love one feel not only disappointment at themselves for pulling/picking, but a disappointment to you for pulling/picking.

Question them while pulling/picking as to why they are doing it

You know we have this condition. While pulling/picking sometimes flares at random, stress can be a large factor figured into it. Cornering them and asking why they’ve started to pull will only make it worse, and the added stress will make it considerably harder to stop, at least in my experience. If they are trapped in a stressful situation, do your best to remove them from it and ask questions later. Berating them while they are pulling/picking is literally one of the worst things you can do and I repeat it will not help in any way, shape or form or get them to stop. It will make it worse.

Do not confront them about recent hair loss/scabbing

Believe us. We know when we’ve relapsed. Having someone come up to you and mention it is basically like having your ‘’failure’’ being thrown in your face. It’s upsetting, very upsetting. 

Do not question them as to ‘’Why do you do this?’’; ‘’Why don’t you just stop????’’

If we could stop we would. No one, literally no one enjoys ripping out their own hair/breaking open their own flesh/whatever your behavior entails. If there was some magic button I could press that would cause me to stop pulling out my hair, I would do it! However, BFRBs are legitimate disorders. 

Would you ask someone who had a broken leg, why they just won’t take off their cast and walk? Would you tell someone with a peanut allergy to just eat a jar of peanut butter and get over it?

No! Of course you wouldn’t! Because that’s a ludicrous idea!

The thing a lot of people don’t understand about BFRBs, is that if we do not do our behavior, for most sufferers it can be physically painful. While the thing is destructive, and seems painful and easily avoidable for the observing party, for the sufferer it’s almost unavoidable. Not only can it be painful, it’s hard to focus on literally anything else when you have the urges.

This is also demeaning, and makes it seem like we would have to put in no effort at all to give us a magical ‘’cure’’, just because you brought us this piece of very obvious advice that we have heard a thousand times before. The reality is that in order to stop pulling, you have to literally fight a battle with yourself and learn tools against yourself for the rest of your life, knowing that at any time you could ruin years of hard work. It’s terrifying and by no means is it easy, so don’t treat it like that.

Do not go through their rooms/floors/trashcans/vacuums looking for evidence of their relapsing

This should be a given. Not only is it invasive of our privacy, I can guarantee that we know exactly how much we’ve ‘’slipped up’’ and have already spent every waking hour of the day beating ourselves up about it. You may think you’re helping by ‘’alerting us’’, but it’s only beating a dead horse and making our lives that more miserable. It also makes us feel like a criminal, or that we should have the power to just wave a wand and say ‘’Be gone my illness! Be gone!’’

Make jokes at their expense/Demean them/Treat them as a burden or embarrassment 

Plain and simple. If you love them, you wouldn’t and will not do this. If your loved one does this to you, I would advise you to get them far away from you. You are not an embarrassment. You are worth the world and more than your BFRB.

Do:

Be understanding

Listen to them. BFRBs are almost never talked about, so of course you’re not going to understand it! Ask them to tell you what you need to know about their condition. Communicate with each other!  However remember to apply common sense and respect with the questions you ask. If you love them, this should not be a problem!

Be supportive

It may be incredibly odd to you at first, but once again, it’s a condition that doesn’t get a lot of coverage. Your loved one has trusted you enough to open up about their condition to you, which was probably incredibly embarrassing and scary for them. Please try your hardest to be supportive of their journey to recovery/ongoing battle with a ‘’gross’’ mental illness. 

Learn what helps with their urges/what you can do to help!

BFRBs are different for everyone! Learn from your loved one if there’s anything you can do to help them with their urges and flareups! Who knows, there might be something you can do to help, or you can at least learn when to steer-clear.

Treat them like a normal person

Having a BFRB doesn’t make you into some sort of freaky monster. It’s just like any other mental illness. We are still living, breathing and functional people! 

Could you open this for me?

Joker x reader It was a rainy night in Gotham and usually the Joker would be looking out his window laughing at all the people running from the water, but he was in a sour mood. A deal had gone south when Batman had showed up, so he was forced to hide out until the heat died down. He growled as he turned from the window he was bored and had nothing to do, which wasn’t a good combination for him. As he was walking to his room to lay down and sleep the night away he was stopped by a knock at the door. “It can’t be Frost he would’ve used the key, so who could be at my door wishing for death”, he thought as he grabbed his gun and stormed towards the door. He yanked the door open and aimed the gun ready to pull the trigger, but he was stopped by a woman’s voice saying" Excuse me I usually don’t really bother my neighbors but my boyfriend broke up with me and I need help opening this jar.“ He looked at the girl and noticed she was holding a pickle jar in her (s/c) hands, he locked eyes with her and looked for any fear in her (e/c) orbs but there was none. Instead she looked like she was getting impatient holding the jar up for him, so impatient that she had to ask again to make sure he heard her” Could you open this for me?“ The joker was at a loss for words this girl had came to his door asking him to open a jar and even with a gun pointed at her face she showed no fear, how could this be? ” You know what I’m going to just go break it since you seem busy being a statue and all.“ She said as she was walking off, but she wouldn’t get far oh no she had made him curious and she could even make this night more enjoyable. “Well anyway bye- Hey wait a second let me go who do you think you are just dragging a girl into your place like you own her!” “ Look here doll you’re going to be my entertainment for the night until it’s safe for me to leave you got that?” He said as he dragged her to the couch so that they could sit down.“I ain’t nobody’s entertainment, I just came here to get this jar opened not to get rubbed on by a clown.” “Oh fierce I like it so tell me doll why did this boy toy of yours leave you to open your own jars?” “Don’t call me doll and if you must know I caught him sleeping with someone else, so I kicked him and her out.” “That’s all you did oh come on doll, no cutting off his little friend and slapping the girl around for a bit that sounds way better than just putting them out.” He said with a loud obnoxious laugh. “Unlike you I’m not a criminal so no I didn’t do anything that could get me locked up, if I can’t open a jar by myself what in your crazy sadistic mind makes you think I could survive prison life and you still haven’t opened this jar.” “The jar can wait we got all night for me to open the stupid jar, I’m talking about you right now and that untapped potential you have inside you.” They continued to talk and argue about what she should have did and how he would have broken her out of prison until they both fell asleep. The next morning (y/n) woke up to find the joker gone and a note on the table: “Hey doll if you’re reading this I decided not to kill you in your sleep and have made my mind to keep you as my personal pet, I’ll come and get you later today make sure you have everything you want packed up when I get there.” (Y/n) set the note back down on the table and that was when she noticed her pickle jar sitting there with a smiley faces drawn on it, she felt some hope build in her as she reaches it and twisted the lid. That hope soon melted away to be replaced by rage and sadness as she realized he didn’t even open the jar. “ I guess I’ll never get to eat that sandwich.” Well that’s the end I hope I did well considering I’m doing this on my phone and this is the first story I’m uploading on here so anyway sorry for any mistakes and I hope you guys enjoyed the story.

Originally posted by thebreakofdawn

To Keep You Safe: Peter Pan x Reader OUAT

Originally posted by pan-imagines

A/N: No spoilers in this one really, I also wrote this a while ago so not top quality but its kinda cute so you know, what the heck? 

Warnings: My bad attempt at angst? Slight profanity, not much other stuff to worry about really. 

Word Count: 3,026

Requests open! (Gif not mine)


A sigh escaped your lips as you walked towards one of the benches in the harbor, seating yourself on the cold wood and looking out into the water. You took in a deep breath, the smell of salt wafting into your nose. Eyes closing, you felt the wind blow into your face, blowing your hair back as the tendrils danced in the wind like flying ribbons. You shook your head, clamping your hands shut and feeling the cold, round object inside of them press harder around your warm skin. Suddenly, you looked down where your hands lay folded in your lap and bit your bottom lip. You shakily opened them, staring at what lay in your palms. A small jar, with a small amount of golden dust spread across the bottom was revealed. A sharp pang struck your chest. This was the last reminder you had of your time spent with–

No. You were not going to think about that. Those days were long ago, all the memories locked away and kept in the past. You refused to bring them into the future. But now… now that you heard that he was here…you knew it would be a lot harder to move on. Because he was a part of you that you could never forget.

You shook your head again, standing up abruptly and pulling your coat tighter around your body as the wind grew stronger. It wasn’t like he would come looking for you. He came here because he needed to get something… and there was little chance that it was you. But you refused to let yourself care. You walked towards the edge of the harbor, letting the chain attached to the lip of the jar swing with every step. A determined look making it’s way onto your face, you let all the anger from the past few years slowly melt away. You held your arm over the water, dangling the jar above the waves, each sloshing against the dock in rhythmic patterns. You took in another deep breath. Today, you were going to let go.

You looked over your shoulder where Pan stood, his arms wrapped around your waist and his head just above your shoulder. Uncertainty lingered in your gaze as you looked back at the jar of pixie dust which you wore like a necklace, the tiny jar itself resting in your hand. Pan chuckled, pulling you closer into his torso as you leaned against him. His warm breath sent goosebumps on your skin, but you stayed in the position, rolling the object in your hand between your index finger and thumb.

“Why would anyone want dust?” you asked, turning around and snaking your arms around Pan’s neck. Peter smiled, shaking his head.

“It’s not just any kind of dust, silly. It’s pixie dust.” You raised an eyebrow, retracting one arm and holding the jar in front of your face to study it again.

“And that is…?” Peter took your hand from the jar, and intertwined his fingers with your smaller ones. He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours.

“Magic, of course. But what it does is a surprise.” You arched an eyebrow suspiciously, studying Pan’s expression to detect any mischief. Which you could tell there was, since his whole demeanor spat out the image of a playful teenage boy. His green eyes were bright, and you prodded the boy’s chest with the realization that he had some kind of trick up his sleeve.

“Remember what happened last time you told me something was a surprise?” you reminded, a frown tugging at your lips with the recollection of that memory.

“I said I was sorry!” he said indignantly. You gave him a hard glare, and he averted his gaze, rubbing his neck sheepishly. A few moments past, and his smirk returned. “It was still kinda funny though.” You growled, slapping his arm.

“Jerk. That ink stayed in my hair for a month!” Peter laughed, pecking your nose and you couldn’t help but feel your anger melt away.

“Just let me make it up to you, then,” he offered, taking opening the jar and spilling a bit of dust into his hand, using his other one to give your own hand a reassuring squeeze. “All you have to do is believe. Do you believe in me?”

“Of course, Peter,” you told him immediately. He smiled, tugging you closer and sprinkling the dust over both of your heads.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

You drew your arm back, prepared to throw the necklace out into the water. When your arm swung forward, something made you hesitate. The sun, which was beginning to set, had turned the water into an orange color that resembled fire. Fire, like the kind you used to dance around whenever Pan took out his flute and started to play. You slowly lowered your hand and looked at the jar again, snorting as you recalled how much Neverland used to mean to you.

Those moments you used to share had been some of the best in your life, and even though you would never admit that now, deep down you knew it was true. But if you were going to start a new life, you had to stop hurting. Somehow instead of throwing that damned necklace into the water, you looked down at it in your hand and felt the pain in your heart that sent tears flowing like a river. In order for anything to be better, you couldn’t just let go of those memories. You had to forget.

Forget…

“That’s it,” you murmured, an idea popping into your head.

When you reached Mr. Gold’s shop, you jumped off of the bike and sprinted to the door. Letting yourself calm down, you slowed down your breathing and took the handle, turning it slowly and letting the familiar jingle of the bell ring through the small shop. Gold turned around to face you from where he stood behind the desk, raising an eyebrow when he saw you. You walked up to the desk and rested your forearms on the glass, watching as Gold’s eyes glittered with interest.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss (l/n). Out of all the people in Storybrooke, I wouldn’t expect you to walk in through that door.”

“Let’s just cut to the chase, Gold. You know I have a history with Pan.”

“Ah, that I do. Can’t say it’s unusual that someone fell for his… tricks.”

“I want you to make me forget every memory with him in it. Everything about my time in Neverland, and even the day I returned here after his shadow brought me back,” you instructed. Gold straightened up, placing his hands behind his back.

“You’re a smart girl, Miss (l/n). I don’t doubt that. You must know that I only do favors in the form of a deal. What would you possibly have that could be of any interest to me?” A smile tugged at your lips, and you opened the biggest pocket in your jacket. You pulled out a coconut shell, placing it on the countertop between the two of you.

Your heart pounded as a shadow, an actual SHADOW (those aren’t supposed to be animate, right?) dumped you onto the forest floor, and you crossed your arms protectively over your chest, rolling on the ground as you came in contact with the hard surface. You rolled a few feet before springing back up, noticing that you were surrounded by a large group of boys, one in particular standing in front of the rest.

“I always knew my shadow was interesting…but bringing a girl here? That’s new. We’ll just have to see if she’s worth keeping,” you looked around frantically, wondering what the boy’s words meant. “Felix, take her to the cages.” A tall boy stepped forward, grabbing your arm and tugging you to his side. You struggled in his grip, but felt a hand stop both your movements. Another boy, who had black hair leaned into your ear, his shaggy hair tickling your skin.

“Don’t worry. Things will make much more sense in the morning. You’ll just have to be patient until then. I’m Baelfire, and I’ll make sure you’ll be okay here.”

“I know you’ll do whatever you want with Pan,” you started, waving your hand dismissively with the topic. “I couldn’t care less about that. Just don’t forget his shadow when you… dispose of him,” you grinned.

“Well, I think we’ve got ourselves a deal,” Mr. Gold approved, a devilish smile of his own overtaking his features.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat in a booth at Granny’s diner, holding a bottle in your hands. It was blue, with golden leaf engravings growing largely from the bottom, and narrowing towards the top. Your hands trembled as you uncapped the bottle. This was for the best. Baelfire had the right idea when he wanted to leave. You were too immature to understand that at the time, but now that you had more experiences, you finally realized that he was right all along. So why was this so hard? Why was doing the right thing always so difficult? You groaned, banging your head on the counter in exasperation.

“Having a little trouble there, love?” a familiar voice asked. Your head snapped upwards, shock radiating from your body. There he was. The start of all of this.

“Bae, what’s wrong?” He didn’t answer, instead leaning forward and resting his forearms on his thighs and looking down in his lap. “Baelfire?”

“It’s just that…I’m going to miss you,” he sighed, looking back at your face. Your eyes filled with hurt, and you scooted away from him.

“So you’re really going to do it? Today? You’re just going to leave me here?”

“(Y/N), I told you that you could–”

“–No, Baelfire. This is my home, and I thought you were my friend. I thought I was important to you.”

“You are! You are important to me,” he insisted. “You have to understand, (y/n).”

“Oh, I understand completely. Go have a nice life,” you spat, making your way over to the tree trunk. You weren’t even in the mood to prank Devin anymore. There would be no joy in seeing him get attacked by your horde of squirrels. Not right now. You were immature to think something like that was funny, but that was your sense of humour. You were young, and wanted to stay that way. But apparently your best friend didn’t.

“Please don’t make things this way. Don’t make me leave like this,” Baelfire begged. You whipped your head around, cold eyes piercing into his desperate ones.

“I’m not making you do anything.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat down on the beach, the warmth in the sand drained away as the moonlight bathed it with silverlight. The ocean was quiet, and the usual music of the crickets seemed faded and distant. You closed your eyes, a sigh passing through your lips as you looked out into the horizon. Baelfire was somewhere out there, probably already forgetting about you. Probably too excited that he had finally escaped, and going on to live a life full of experiences you could never have in Neverland. He was growing older, wrinklier, and less full of life. Which is why you never wanted to leave. You didn’t care about growing up and losing all of that childhood whimsy. You didn’t want to be burdened with responsibilities like adults were. You just wanted to be carefree. But according to Baelfire, that wasn’t living. How was that not living? How was dying, living?

“I told you he would leave,” a familiar voice sounded behind you. You turned around, watching as Pan walked forward and sat beside you. He looked at your face, studying your emotions with an expressionless face.

“Have you come here to gloat?” you asked bitterly. “Because I’m really not in the mood.”

“Of course not. (Y/N), do you honestly think I would do anything to hurt you?” You looked into his green orbs, the affection in his gaze surprising you. Sure, Pan had watched you from a distance more and more. Sure, he had let you win in countless competitions you had with him because he thought it was cute when you celebrated. Sure, he had flirted with you mindlessly just to see your “adorable” blush (because not many people could make your face as red as he did). Sure, he had always been extra protective towards you… but you perceived the cause of it to be your gender. He was protective over Wendy for that reason.

“I…I don’t…” you managed, at a loss for words. You cleared your throat, rubbing your arm sheepishly. “I didn’t know you–”

“–Cared?” Pan finished for you. He shifted closer to you, gently brushing your hair behind your ear. “Of course I do.”

“What the hell do you want?” you growled, standing up. Peter walked forward, a smirk tugging at his lips. You watched him carefully, becoming wary. Gripping the bottle tighter in your hand, you saw how Peter’s gaze flickered over to it.

“I want you to put that down,” he answered, reaching out slowly. You jerked your arm away, bringing the bottle closer to your chest.

“Why? Why would you want me to put this down? So I can just suffer more?” you demanded, your voice rising. “You have no right to come to me now, just as my life is about to actually become normal, and rip that away from me too!” Bringing the bottle dangerously close to your lips, you were about to tilt it into your mouth.

“(Y/N), stop. Just…just let me talk.” You raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t owe you a damn thing, Peter Pan,” you snapped. Emotion suddenly poured out of you, something that you held back for so long. You broke like a dam, tears flowing out of your eyes. “You left me! You made me leave without giving me any explanation!” your voice rose to a wail. “You pretended like you cared about me, just to toss me aside like I was nothing!”

“I-I know. And I’m sorry. I just–”

“–Are you actually going to try to justify that?” you broke in, disbelieving. “Is that why you came here? Because you felt the need to tell me what you did made sense? The day that shadow tore me away and threw me back here, all I imagined was the small chance that you actually felt guilty.”

“The only reason I did it was because I love you!” Peter shouted. “When I came back here, and I realized you were in town… I had to tell you. It killed me to take you away. But you were my weakness. They were going to use you against me.”

“The fact that you didn’t want to have any weaknesses proves that you don’t really love me. All I hear coming out of your mouth is a bunch of lies.” Peter grew angry, snapping his fingers and making the bottle vanish. You gasped, startled by his sudden reaction. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you forward, crashing your body into his. You struggled, but he tightened his grip.

“Let me go, Peter!”

“Not until I convince you. Im not letting you go. Not again, and not until you understand how much I love you. And if that takes me a million years, then so be it. But I will prove it to you.” You grew quiet, looking up at the boy who held your heart. Your breath caught when you saw the sincerity in his eyes. “I just need you to be willing to let me do that. Okay?” You shivered, trapped in the teenage boy’s gaze. You were startled by the mild desperation that was expressed through them, and for the first time you saw the effects of your departure, a hurt that lingered deeply in his entire being. Like a scar, it was a time period that affected him so deeply, it would never fade away. And in that moment you understood that what Peter had to do hurt him a lot more than it had hurt you. You let out a shaky breath, barely managing out a breathy “Okay.”

Your face was twisted with hurt, the heartbreak so evident on your face that it made Pan’s heart twist. He shook his head, reminding himself that this was exactly why you needed to leave. He was putting you in danger, and especially now that he knew Henry’s family would come for him… having a weakness was not an option. But the desperation that was laced into your features tore at his conscience, something he never felt before. His shadow tugged at your arms, ripping them from the ground.

“Peter, please!” you begged. “Please let me stay!” He stayed silent, crossing his arms over his chest and giving you his best stone glare. It tore him up on the inside, but he held strong, watching as you helplessly tried to wrestle his shadow as it lifted you off the ground.

“It’s funny, really, how you actually believe everything I tell you,” he forced out of his mouth. He needed to get you to hate him, so you wouldn’t ever try to come back. “It really was fun playing with you, but this was nothing more than a game. I almost feel sorry that you believed that.” He felt his heart rip out of his chest when you started sobbing, surrendering to the black being that tugged you into the air. He turned around, pain throbbing in his chest. He heard your sobs subside as you were taken farther away, and the pain became unbearable. He turned back around, a single tear shedding from his eye as you disappeared from sight completely.

Peter Pan was famous for his emotionless ways. He abandoned his son without a trace of guilt, took Wendy from her family, and did many other unspeakable things. He wasn’t supposed to feel. He wasn’t supposed to cry. But for you… things were different. To keep you safe, he would rip his heart out a million times over. Because that was the definition of true love.

Caretaker - Bucky x Reader(f)

NOTES/WARNINGS: Broken bones, fluff

AUTHORS NOTES: One of my shorter fics but I loved all of the fluff in this!

PROMPT: Thanks to @thisisthelilith for this great prompt!

 The reader breaks her wrist on a mission and Bucky won’t let her do anything (i.e. pick things up, open things, carry things etc.) even though she can do most things.

Originally posted by enochianess

 

 You grunted as you tried to twist open the peanut butter, but with a broken wrist it was a hopeless attempt. You squirmed against the counter as you tried to hold the jar against your chest with your elbow.

 Last weeks mission to Italy had been successful but you came home with a broken wrist. There had been some confusion on the field and you accidentally punched Bucky right in the red star of his metal arm, breaking your wrist in two places and cracking a few knuckles.  

 You grinned when you remembered just how upset he had been. He rushed you back to the Quinjet, apologizing profusely, and insisted that you not move the entire flight back. He was kind of cute when he was worried about you. You have had worse injuries before but this one did suck.

 Bucky walked into the kitchen and quickly threw his bag of food on the table before rushing up behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He asked as he snatched the jar from you.

 “I’m making a sandwich…or at least I was trying to before you jumped in.” You rolled your eyes.

 “(Y/N), I told you I’ll take care of you. Just let me know what you need.” He put the peanut butter away and started cleaning up what little you had out in your attempt to do things on your own.

 “Buck, I can make my own food.”

 “Yeah, not by the looks of it.” He scoffed and put the bread back in the pantry.

 “Well, I almost had it open.”

 “I bought us Chinese, anyways. Way better than PB&J.” He winked.

 You walked over to the bag on the table and started to pull out the small, white boxes.

 “Ah-ah-ah!” Bucky was on your heel and took over for what seemed like the billionth time since you got your cast on.

 “Ugh! Buck, I can do it!” You rubbed your face with what small amount of fingers stuck out of your hard cast.

 “But I don’t want you to!” He smiled. He gave you, what you now called, the “Dollface” smile. The one Steve said he used to use in the 40’s to get dames to go out with him, the one that made all the ladies melt.

 “Don’t. Don’t you smile at me like that, James Barnes. I am a grown woman and I will take care of my self!” You stomped your foot and crossed your arms awkwardly. This cast wasn’t helping you look as determined as you felt.

 Bucky cupped your face in his hands and smiled down at you. “Sorry, not gonna happen.” He kissed your forehead and you smacked his chest with your good hand. “Ow, what was that for?”

 “Your treating me like I’m plagued. I was reminding you that I can still kick your-”

 “Language!” Steve called from the living room.

 “So, I can’t make my own food and I now I’ve lost the freedom of speech? What am I allowed to do?” You huffed, throwing your arms up then dropping them to your sides with a slap.

 Suddenly you were cradled in Bucky’s arms. “You can come watch movies with me.” He grinned. He grabbed the take out and carried you to the living room. He made you sit in his lap all night as you ate and watched movies with Steve until finally, you fell asleep cuddled up against him.

 Steve smiled at Bucky silently.

 “What?” Bucky whispered, tenderly rubbing your arm to make sure you were warm enough.

 Steve smirked and shook his head. “I’m just glad you finally got yourself a steady girl.”

 Bucky smiled and placed his lips lightly on the top of your head, careful to not disturb your rest. Steve was right and Bucky finally admitted to himself that you were definitely the one.


Hope you liked it! Feel free to send in any requests!

Also let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list :) (or removed, I wont be offended)

@tatortot2701 ​ @whimsicalrebirth  @heismyhunter @pickledmoon

  • what she says: I'm fine
  • what she means: I have sealed this demon in one of my jars during last full moon and now I'm in for a real ride. I need the nettle and wormwood nightmare potion and it's also in one of my jars and for the love of all black cats, all my jars look vaguely the same. If I accidentally open the wrong one and have to hear for three hours how Dante was the worst what happened to hell's public relations since the book of revelation hit the shelves I'll curse my own bed. I can feel you looking at me from behind the glass Keith and no, you're not getting out
Crafting A Spell Jar and Personal Update

As my followers know I have been going through some personal issues. It was recently confirmed that my partner has cancer. We had been hoping for a different diagnosis but the results are in. We have started chemo and it has caused a great deal of disruption.

For the first time in a few weeks I was compelled to do a little witchcraft and created a spell jar. While this is in no way Wicca-specific, it is witchcraft related and I decided to post it here. So this post will be going over Spell Jars.

Please note that due to my time constraints I am still not taking anymore questions. I will be opening my ask someday soon, but right now I’m just playing everything by ear. Also, because this is costing so much my 10,000 k giveaway will have to wait. I offer my deepest apologies for everything being so out of whack.

Let’s go do some happy witchcraft, okay? It’s October…tis the season!

What is a Spell Jar?

A spell jar is also known as a bottled spell or a spell bottle. It is a jar/bottle/flask that has had a spell cast into it for a specific purpose. There are versions of Spell Jars in European Witchcraft, Latin American Charms, Hoodoo craft, and many others.

The look like this:

Or this:

Or even this:

Or if you wanna get professional about it Check these babies out:

Why a Jar?

A spell jar “holds” a spell. It is literally a spell you can carry around with you. Some spell jars are a one time use item and some act as a charm to be carried around, placed somewhere, or buried at a specific place.

Why use a spell jar?

I questioned the logic of using a spell jar on many occasions. What was the point? Why not just cast a spell? Was it really any different? The answer is strangely yes…and no.

No: A spell jar is no different from a ‘normal’ spell. You use the herbs, you say the things, and then you will it into happening. Same stuff, different day.

Yes: (Please note this is only my opinion and what I have observed. I have little to no way to test this particular theory.) A spell jar differs from a spell in the fact that you trap the energy inside the vessel. You don’t automatically release it into the cosmos and hope whatever you were harkening to you was listening. A spell jar gives you the ability to do several things. 1) Hand the jar to a person so that the energy goes to them. This works really well for Healing work and healing rituals, and bonding spells. While I do not promote it, these are also useful when doing the opposite of all of those things. 2) When you need a spell to last a certain period of time. When the spell is 'over’ you can open the jar and release the spell. This works when using any attraction spells (looking for romantic partners, trying to attract wealth, or prosperity in general) 3) When you need to bless a place in a very solid way. You can take a spell jar and bury it to consecrate and ward a spot. Homes and domiciles are the first thing that come to mind for this. But if you are opening your own shop this could work as well.

So there you have it, my theories and reasoning behind why a spell jar is super useful and where it is going to do you the most good in witchcraft.

Whew.

Now! On to the actual making of the spell jar, or as I like to call it:

How To Do The Thing:

First you are going to need some supplies:

Alright!

  1. A Jar

  2. A spell you trust and are comfortable with

  3. The supplies necessary for that spell

  4. A way to close the jar

  5. The will to get 'er done.

I realize that this list is really vague in comparison to what I normally like to give. But the fact is a spell jar can literally be any spell so long as you have the mind to make it into a jarred spell. And that jarred as in vessel not jarred as in a shocking jolt. You know, in case you were wondering.

Now, cast the spell. Use whatever crystals, stones, herbs, sigils, writings, ashes, or what have you to make the spell complete but place these items into the spell jar*. When you get to the end of the spell close the jar. Some people seal a lid with wax if they are intending to make the spell pretty permanent.

*Note- If this spell jar is intended for a specific person having a picture or personal effect of theirs can help strengthen the bond of the spell.

Spell jars are what I think of when I think of the higher level of witchcraft, of course that’s probably because I spend too much of my time playing RPG’s…who knows. They take a little creativity and a little more planning, but they are absolutely worth it in the grand scheme of things.

So there we go! Best of luck in the spell craft business and I wish you all the greatest of blessings.

Let me know if this was useful?

honestly ? i take everything as a challenge. “you can’t get through this song without singing along” bitch watch me !! “you can’t say this without laughing” au contraire motherfucker i am a STONE-COLD, STEEL TRAP and you cannot BREAK ME like someone could tell me to let them open a jar of peanut butter and i would break my fist trying to get it open on my own

Over My Dead Body

“Shut up, you’ll wake Stiles!” you yelled in a hushed whisper as your boyfriend Derek managed to topple yet another item from your nightstand.

“So what? I’m a werewolf, he can’t do anything to me.”

“Yea, but he can tell dad have him ship me off to a monastery.” you said kissing Derek as you straddled him. “He already can’t stand the fact that we’re dating.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” he said pushing away the strap of your tank top and placing a kiss on your collarbone. “Over my dead body.” he said nipping at it causing you to giggle lightly.

“Good, because I have no idea how I’d survive without your amazing-”

“Personality,” he asked.

“I was going to say cock but I’m feeling nice so yea. Your personality,” you said pulling his shirt over his head.

“Not nice,”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel a lot better,” you said pulling his pants down and reaching into his boxers for his erection. “What do you want me to do with it?” you asked stroking it.

“Suck it,” he groaned.

“I can do that,” you said sliding down his body as you pulled his boxers down.

You continued to stroke him until he was hard enough then you brought your mouth down over him. You teased his tip and licked away the bead of precum present before taking him all in and bobbing your head up and down.

He gripped your hair tightly and began forcing you to take in more, causing you to gag. He knew that a part of you loved it when he’d make you gag and he loved the sensation of it so it was a win-win.

You began jerking what you couldn’t fit into your mouth and soon enough felt him twitch. You took the chance to suck and pump him harder, until you felt the familiar hot, sticky liquid hitting the back of your throat in thick spurts. You kept sucking until there was nothing left, Then you swallowed and released him from your mouth with a pop.

“That was amazing,” he said petting your head.

“I aim to please.”

“Well you always succeed.”

 “Only your seed,” you said placing a kiss on his lips.

“Come on up here,” he said with a smirk while still lying on your bed.

You smirked knowingly and slipped your underwear off before lining your center up with his lips. He pulled you down to him and wasted time with you. He delved his tongue into your tight heat, causing you to cry out.

Shut up, you’ll wake Stiles,” he mocked before slurping your clit into his mouth and sucking on it hungrily.

He went back to licking at your entrance, prompting you to move against his face. He loved it when you rode his face, especially when he was in a position to see you do it.

Your quiet moans only encouraged him and with his desire to perform, you were brought to your climax.

He then proceeded to flip you over and climb on top of you. He made short work of your tank top and began massaging your boobs until you were begging for him.

Eventually, he obliged and plunged himself into your wet heat, causing you to cry out.

“Shh,” he emphasised putting a hand over your mouth while he pounded you mercilessly.

Your hands clawed at the expanse of his back and you thought you would explode from all the pleasure. You couldn’t hold it in anymore, you came and released the loudest scream you could muster.

Derek chuckled at that and began making strides towards his own orgasm when you heard your door being flung open.

“Y/N, are you okay?” your brother Stiles exclaimed as he defensively held a metal bat.

“I’m fine Stiles,” you groaned as Derek rolled off of you.

Derek, what the hell are you doing naked in my sister’s bed?”

“Building a sand castle.” Derek replied sarcastically.

“Y/N, I thought I told you to stay away from him.”

“You did, but I love Derek.”

“Derek, I think you should go before I break out a jar of mistletoe on your ass.”

“Stiles, I’m not a kid,”

“Derek is not the right guy for you.”

“We’ve been dating for almost a year. Have I hurt her?”

“Not that I know of,”

“He hasn’t, now go.”

“Fine, but I’m not happy.”

“You’re never happy,” you countered.

“Shut up, and keep it down already.” Stiles scoffed walking out.

As soon as you and Derek thought you were alone, Stiles came bursting in again.

“By the way Y/N, does dad know of this?”

“Goodbye Stiles,” you yelled tossing a pillow at him.

I'll heal the hole in your heart - chapter 9/?

Chapter 9/?

« previous chapter | CHAPTER 1 | next chapter »

A/N: Warnings and other informations are to be found in chapter 1.

Summary about chapter 9: (They’re 18 years old) Dan and Phil have been living in Manchester for a few months now and are finally trying to start a normal life together.

Words: 3.622

I’ll heal the hole in your heart chapter 9

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

When did you become a freelance artist? Was it hard? Can anyone become one?

well you can become a freelancer as soon as you chose to. I started when I was 18 a few months before I graduated high school by started small commissions on Deviantart. Obviously it wasn’t my full time job and wouldn’t give me more than like 20 dollars every few months. XD hahah but hey! Gottah start somewhere right?  as time went on I got a bit more lucky like doing a book cover for a book called “My Whispers of Horror” for Bryan Book Publishing from some awesome couple in Canada publishing their first book about surviving women facing sexism and abuse from ex-USSER nations. and a few book jobs in doing art. And I began to rase my prices the more quality my art got and depending on the job. but most of the time I was drawing little sketches of OCs from random people over DA. so just some small Freelance work, and it’s so rare for the longest time that you pretty much accept anything you can get your hands on. 

Once I graduated high school I managed to snag a table a Phoenix Comicon, and started to sell my art, that was a HUGE step and a great way to start getting my name out there, and afterwards I got some more freelance work, getting bigger commissions and even some freelance work for indie games. My first table was pathetically small and horrible but hahaha it still was a great turn out!  I actually have some pictures! I was cosplaying as Ciel. XD 



hahaha my art was so bad and I has very little to put up. XD haha such a sad set up, but hey! again you have to start somewhere! XD 

Here’s my set up now. :> and it’s still growing and getting better each time I vend. 

aaahhhh much better 

And then I started youtube and am now more of a entrepreneur now than a freelancer, being as I don’t take much freelance work anymore cuz time and I’m too busy with my own projects, other than conventions which is more along the lines of a entrepreneur. But then of course youtube started up and I got lucky and now I finally do it full time. 

So becoming a freelancer or an entrepreneur where you are your own boss can be hard, but it is very possible, especially these days! and yes I do believe anyone can become one as well, it’s just a lot of hard work and very time consuming so make sure it’s really what you want to do. Because you’ll probably put more hours into it than a full time job for some big company. 

When you started out doing freelance work, or vending, it’s going to be probably years before you can do it full time. I started doing freelance work on the side when I was 18 like I mentioned earlier, and I had a normal day job at Godiva for 8 months while doing commissions, conventions, and youtube all at the same time posting a video once a week  until I was finally able to quit, which happened only in August, so it took me 4 years to be able to do it full time. Like, you can’t just quite your job and do only freelance in the beginning. Every freelancer starts off working a normal day job and doing freelance work at the same time for a really long time before they can finally make freelancing their full time. That’s normal and that’s just how life is, and so you literally have to work triple the amount of work to become a freelancer until you finally can quite your normal job and be a freelancer. 

If you’re a teen or younger, you want to start as early as possible  to start building a name  as an artist for yourself. So you start by posting artwork online and trying to get your name out there, start taking commissions, and once you turn 18 and you feel confident enough in your art, START SELLING AT CONVENTIONS! Selling at conventions is pretty much the key to being a freelancer these days. I make my living through youtube and conventions, but you don’t need youtube to be a freelancer or entrepreneur full time. For example my friend Sam makes her full living as an artist through conventions and commissions, and she and I are not the only ones either. Many artists travle from convention to convention selling their art work and that’s their career, as well as commission work when they can get it. like I said it’s a lot of work but anyone can do it, and it’s very possible. 

Another big key to freelancing is social media. Not only do you need to start getting your name out there as an artist by posting, which WILL take years, but there’s also youtube, (like me) but the big one that a lot of artists make a job for themself as a freelancer is PATREON! I don’t really work through patreon other than for an open tip jar, but you can make a job for yourself through it which LOTS of artists do. I simply just chose not to because I put my time into youtube instead. 

but yeah! That’s how I started out, and those are pretty much how you do it. And no, you do not need a degree or go to college to do this being as you don’t need to be hired by anyone to become a freelancer being as you’re your own boss. if you want to work for an industry instead, I suggest going to college but lol it’s very different from freelancing. 


I hope that helps! :D 

To continue the theme from @lovepotsie’s post about How a Spoonie Says I Love You,
let’s do:
How to say I Love You to a spoonie!

“I remembered you’re allergic, so I made you something else”

“Do you need me to drop anything off while I’m out?”

“How did your doctor appointment go?”

“Do you need a ride?”

“Let’s just stay in tonight”

“Why don’t you go to bed early?”

“Stay in the car, I’ll just run in”

“Take my seat, I don’t mind standing”

“Don’t worry, I already said I didn’t want to go”

“What can I do to help?”

“Do you want to leave early?”

“I already did the chores”

“What should I pick up for dinner?”

“I already opened all the new jars in the fridge for you”

“I wanted to let you sleep in”

“I understand.”

Feel free to add your own! I’m loving all these posts.

From A Different View

Summary: Lauren Jauregui’s always been fascinated with photography, how you could capture a moment forever with the click of a button, and for as long as she could remember, she always had a camera at hand. So when she discovered YouTube, it wasn’t long before she made a channel and started making videos. They varied from her and her best friend Normani doing challenges to videos about self confidence and embracing yourself and the world. Lauren soon developed an audience and became one of the most subscribed YouTubers on the site. She thought she had everything until she met another YouTuber, Camila Cabello, and realizes all she was missing.

Keep reading

youtube

Hawkeye Sings About His Super Powers (Ed Sheeran “Thinking Out Loud” Parody) on on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon on Tuesday (April 28) in New York City

Hawkeye from “Avengers” sings about his lesser-known powers. Lyrics below.

When you’re on a team with the Hulk and Thor
And we’re all up there on the movie screen,
Will the people believe that I’m not quite as tough?
Will anyone even notice me?

But listen I’ve got powers too, they’re pretty sweet.
I promise I can do so much more than just archery.

I’m serious guys.
I’ve got a collection of scarves and berets.
I play trombone in a ska band.
I once got to second base on my Tinder date.
And my cat has got its own Instagram.

I tell you now
I kick ass at Mario Kart.
This year I played an extra in Paul Blart.
I can open a pickle jar.
I’m friggin’ Hawkeye.
Maybe I’m as super as they are.

So maybe I still haven’t lost my virginity.
But when I bowl I always score at least 215, after six beers

Yes I know ‘bout Captain America’s strength.
Hulk becomes a towering man.
But I got seventh place in my fantasy league.
And I once butt-dialed Jean-Claude Van Damme.

When I go to Chipotle I get free guac.
I flirt with the cashier and she says I rock.
I own water-resistant socks.
I’m friggin’ Hawkeye.
Maybe I’m as super as a star.

For a Good Time Call update

“Bowling?” she asks incredulously, fixing Peeta with a doubtful look when he pulls up in front of the Capitol Bowling building.

He smiles at her expression, cutting his engine off. “You kicked my ass at darts. I feel like I need to redeem myself by playing you in something I’m good at.”

“And the thing you’re good at is bowling,” she deadpans as they climb out of his car to head inside.

“I like to think I’m good at a respectable number of things,” he says, holding the door for her. “I’m good at making paper airplanes. I’m good at opening jars. All kinds of jars. I never have a problem with that. I could be your go-to jar opener, if you’re looking for one. I’m also good at reprogramming VCRs.”

She laughs, turning to face him as they stop to wait in line for shoes and a lane. “Do people even own VCRs anymore?”

You can read Chapter 4 at FFnet or AO3. Thank you so much for reading!

I need help.

Hi, peaches. I have to post this reminder tonight that I have a tip jaw on my blog (see the picture). If you like my Destiel fanfiction, which I’m trying to post as often as I can, please consider leaving a tip. You may or may not know that I’m a quadriplegic unable to work and I only get about $80 in food stamps per month. The end of the month is always difficult for me. I’m down to $27 right now until May. So if you enjoy my writing, please consider dropping something in my virtual tip jar to help me survive the end of the month stress again.

The tip jar is completely voluntary. I appreciate each and every one of you whether we interact or not. If there’s anything I can ever do for you, please let me know.

And here are links to my stories. If you like them, think about a tip. Consider me a musician on a street corner with my guitar case open for tips, you know? I keep as much of my art for free as I can.

Fanfiction (Supernatural, Destiel)

One shots
Multi-chapter stories
Archive of Our Own account

Original Short Stories

Murderer
Honeysuckle
Lena Corbet
The War At Home

anonymous asked:

Outdated idea: shaming women for wanting to live however they want to live. Old fashioned or not.

I can say that I want to be a housewife, I can say that I want my husband to be the head of the household, I can say that all I want as highlight of the day is prepare a lovely dinner and make sure that nothing bothers him when he gets home, I can say that I want goddamn assistance from the government with my pickle jars because I can’t open them and it STILL wouldn’t be sexist because I have all the freedom of choice in the world in wanting things

you don’t have to actively go against all stereotypes to be pro equality or have a mind of your own and people who think that you do are idiots