over molding

Energy Based Witchcraft and Quick Practices

All right, so this is essentially the beginning of energy related witchcraft that I’ll be posting about as I try it and learn new things. Feel free to try out some of the stuff I talk about here but please remember that this is your journey and you can and should edit and tweak everything to best fit you.

Types of Energy

Reserved Energy

Reserved Energy floats either just above or below your skin. It should feel like it’s attached to you and resist most attempts to use it. It is minimally pliant, minimally workable, and mostly just exists as a backup or protection.

Latent Energy

Latent Energy is typically a ball of energy that is extremely malleable and easily visualized. This type of energy is more ‘for your use’. It can be visualized anywhere in the body; however, where ever it best seems to fit (i.e. a ball of energy in your stomach, chest, head, etc) is normally where it stays. Latent energy is great to work with to give yourself a better mastery over molding both Reserved and Latent energy.

Neighboring/Immediate Energy

Neighboring (or Immediate) Energy is an amalgamation of your energies and outside forces. It’s best visualized and felt by meditating. If you’ve meditated and felt like you were basically out of your own body and hazy, you’ve felt Neighboring Energy. It’s less you and, as a by product, significantly harder to work with. It’s not as difficult as Reserved Energy since that’s an active rejection to change, and this is simply difficult because you’re reaching beyond yourself.

Visualizing Your Energy

Visualizing energy can be a bit tricky, but seeing your energy, in my opinion, is equally important as feeling it. Being able to see and acknowledge your energy makes feeling and moving it so much simpler. There are a couple of ways to visualize your energy, so we’ll hop into those first:

First Plane Visualization (FPV)

If you close your eyes to visualize your energy and the first thing you see is your body, this is where you’re at. First Plane Visualization essentially means your energy best manifests itself to you as a physical part of you. Personally, I feel this makes it easier to work with Latent and Reserved Energy, but harder to work with Neighboring.

Second Plane Visualization (SPV)

If attempting to visualize your energy brings up empty space with your energy in some form or shape in it, congrats, this is you. This type of visualization makes it significantly easier to work with energy that isn’t yours but more difficult to work with your own as well. Your energy seems to best manifest itself as a construct in your mind, essentially on a different plane than your physical body. To use it, you have to get around your own barrier between it and physicality whereas outside energies that are already on your plane don’t need any extra work for you to work with them.

When you visualize your energy, you’re essentially introducing yourself and greeting it. In the same way you most likely wouldn’t hand a stranger a thousand dollars, your energy isn’t likely to do much for you if you don’t at least know it.

Moving Your Energy

Think of your energy as a muscle, if you never use it, it becomes that much more difficult to begin using and to strengthen it.  Please don’t expect to hop in, visualize your energy once, and suddenly have it do everything you want it to.

First try visualizing your energy with your eyes closed. Spend some time with it, don’t demand anything of it. Is your energy naturally calm? Does it spin lazily as you sit with it? Is your energy a spitfire, constantly flinging out strands of itself and wrapping around everything it can without leaving it’s basic shape? Who is your energy? What kind of personality do you get from it?

Try to learn and love your energy every time you visualize it. When you’ve got the image of your energy firmly in your head, preferably to the point where you can almost feel  it wherever it’s best visualized, try moving it. Try to get a strand of it to detach from the bulk of your energy and pull it towards you. If that’s difficult, simply work on moving the bulk of your energy towards and away from you (SPV) or around your body (FPV). This should honestly take awhile. Remember that you’re not simply trying to visualize it, but feel it. As it moves, you should feel it. Once you’ve got a mastery of that, try opening your eyes and doing it over again.

When you can move your energy in bulk or pieces with a bit more ease, I recommend pushing it to the surface. The easiest place to feel Latent Energy is between your palms. If trying to move your energy with in yourself simply won’t work for you, try this instead, then move back to that later. To push your energy to your hands for FPV, imagine it wherever it tends to manifest itself. Push it, either in whole or (preferably) in part, down or up your body and into your palms. If you need your eyes closed to direct it, by all means, close them; however, once you’ve got it comfortably in your palms, open your eyes and try to get used to keeping a hold on your energy with your eyes open. Allow it to do as it pleases within the space between your palms. Start out with maybe half a foot between your hands and slowly increase the distance as you grow more confident.

For SPV, visualize your energy and bring it towards you. Bring out either two bits of it, still connected to the whole, or the bulk of it towards yourself until it feels like you’ve stepped inside of it or as though it’s encompassed you. Carefully, without losing that feeling, visualize it (either with your eyes opened or closed depending on what works better for you) sparking its way down your arms and into your hands. If that’s too far to visualize, simply imagine it condensing between or in your palms for the get-go. Because your own image is less involved in your own energy, expect to have a harder time keeping it where you want it to be.

Energy, like most objects, rejects movement without force. When you move it at first, it may feel like it snaps back to where it started no matter what you do. Keep practicing and remember that it hasn’t really moved in years, so it’ll take some work to get it to move now.

Energy Exercises

We’re finally at the end of what I can share for the time being. I only have a couple of practices that I’ve been using lately, only one of which I’ll add here, specifically for Reserved Energy because that’s what I’m practicing working with currently. I will update this as time goes on but I do want to be sure before I give put any exercises. For example, one of them uses hunger as a basis and I don’t know how I feel about giving a purpose to staying hungry, so I’ll wait to add that if at all.

Exercise 1

Find a cold room or area, cold enough to give you goosebumps but not enough to shiver. Furthermore, if it’s outdoors, make sure there’s little to no wind. Wear short or no sleeves. Allow the cold to seep into your skin. Visualize your reserved energy; this may be a thin layer above or below your skin.

If it appears above your skin, give it intent, push it to separate you from the cold. In practice, this literally felt like a wash of lukewarm warmth sliding down from my head. The cold felt like someone holding an ice cube near my skin, but didn’t actually make me cold.

If it appears below your skin, incite it to heat itself. The cold should sink into your skin and meet that barrier of energy and fizzle out. I can’t tell you how it feels in practice because my Reserved Energy appears above the skin. If you try this out and are okay to share, I’d love to know how it differs.


I’ll either update or make new posts on this as I learn. I love energy based craft and I’ve got a lot more things I’m practicing that I’m not confident enough in quite yet to share…but soon. Here’s a mini-list of what you can expect in the future:

Moving Energy Into Objects

Visualizing Neighboring Energy

Using Neighboring Energy

Taking Energy from an Object

NOTE: All of the names I’ve given energy, energy types, etc were made by me simply to make it easier to refer to and talk about. If you call any of the feelings or activities something else, by all means, continue doing so. This is just what makes it easiest to understand for me.

Overwatch fic: The catdads and that time they met up with McCree after the Fall.

Remember when I said I was writing this, a year and a day ago?  No warnings.  The cut is just for length.
Jesse’s clients showed him the documentation on his targets before he took the job, and it’s pretty clear he’s after a real pair of desperadoes.  These two have left a trail of bodies, theft, and occasional devastation in their wake from one hemisphere to the other, and he reckons it’s about time someone put a stop to it.

When they nail him in an ambush, he realizes that someone’ll have to be someone else.

His arms get pinned from behind by a grip that feels like a bear’s, claws and all.  The other one drops down in front of him from an awning three stories up and then uncoils from his crouch like he’s made of shock absorbers.  “Jesse McCree,” that one says in a low growl of a voice.  Grand, being recognized always goes so well for him. “You look like a werewolf, kid.”

The man holding him laughs.  It sounds beyond rough, almost inhuman, and kinda smug.  Jesse knows it well.  He’s heard that insult more than a few times, too.

“Well, damn,” he says faintly as the shock sets in.  

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Take One

Take One: Scene One
[College Au! Taking an editing course with Christian]

As class came to an end your professor handed back your peer reviewed midterms. You honestly always thought peer reviewed was a fancy way of saying Your professor was too lazy to actually grade it themselves, but there were no complaints on your end. There was no way a classmate would fail you, they probably had the same anxiety.

Everyone was always lenient at peer reviews. Right?

“Alright Kids, remember to go over the discussion board, read the next chapter and start drafting ideas for the final” Professor Seo leaned on her desk, taking off her glasses. “Any questions?”

“Yeah, can I do a makeup midterm?” One of the kids in the back piped up.

She chuckled. “No make ups, but if anyone enters the film festival, that presentation will be used to replace their lowest grade, including a midterm. Next question?”

“Professor Seo, what is this?” you gasped turning over your paper.

“Is there a problem?” she raised a brow.

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here are the pics of my dragon!!!!

it has a skeleton made out of wire, which was wrapped with tin foil, and a type of clay called sculpey molded over that to give it it’s shape, which was then baked in my oven to solidify the clay. it was painted with acrylic paints, and there’s some glitter hairsprayed to it’s back 

sadly scupley does crack a little and it did crack on the stomach a tiny bit, but you can’t tell from how it sits. 

it was designed to sit specifically at that angle that it’s stand sits at, i’m not sure if it would break or not at any other angle, but i’d rather not risk it. 

the stand is meant to be a crystal that was made out of cardboard and painted with acrylics; sadly, it doesn’t match up to the quality of the dragon b/c i was pressed for time, but overall i’m really happy with how this piece came out. it was the first time i’ve ever used a clay material like this before, and i think it came out pretty nicely all things considered

(i would be willing to sell it tho for the right price. since it took me weeks to create this, it would have to be at least over $100. if anyone is interested, hit me up at my email xxsaisaixx@gmail.com)


Here goes nuthin! I’m about to pour the molds for these. Last time I made a mold was in art school and I think that was plaster of Paris. This time I’ll be using a silicone rubber called Dragon Skin made by Smooth-On. Pot life is about 8 minutes and it should set in a little over an hour. On the main piece I’ve added air vents made from coffee stirrers to prevent bubbles from getting trapped. The larger drinking straws are going to be the pour spouts for the casting material. Hopefully, this will be a successful first attempt, cause Dragon Skin ain’t cheap!

Title: Teenage Rebellion
Fandom: Stranger Things
Characters: Jonathan Byers x Reader
Reader Gender: Female
Word Count: 1,355
Warnings: Some swearing, mentions of bullying
Notes: Based on a request from an anon for “Could you do a Jonathan Byers fic with the prompt ‘I always hide in this one stairwell whenever I’m having a mental breakdown / existential crisis / etc but today when I came here you were already there’ Thank you!”

Originally posted by therealspideyman

Jonathan Byers had grown very accustomed to people whispering about him, often pointing and giggling amongst themselves as they did so. Because of this, it didn’t bother him when a few of his peers began gossiping about him – until he heard his mother’s and brother’s names come up.

“I still don’t think that Will Byers ever really went missing. That freak show of a family probably just wanted to land some paid interviews or something.”

I think the mom is a bit of a schizo. She probably just had a psychotic break and made the whole thing up.”

Jonathan could hear the teacher yelling after him as he left the room. He knew that if he had to sit there and listen to those idiots for another second, he’d have ended up getting suspended. The teachers would undoubtedly be looking for him, so he went to the one place he knew they’d never check.

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“Don’t make this sentimental.”

Previous parts: “Someone like me doesn’t get happy endings.” | “I can take care of myself.”

Word count: 1712

Warnings: none

A/N: The final part to this Bucky x reader series! Hope you guys like it.

Mood music: At Last by Martin Landh

Originally posted by little--batman

It’s three in the morning and you’re still awake, staring at the man who shared your bed. His head rests in his hands as he sleeps peacefully for the first time in seventy years and you smile as you think about how much you truly loved him. The pain he’d suffered melted away when he was with you and he looked entirely at peace and content as he slept, a welcome change to the guilt ridden hours he spent awake.

You shift against him, leaning into him as he sleeps and you curl your fingers in his soft hair; it was shorter since he cut it a few weeks ago. It suits him, you think as you study the face you fell in love with. You trace the contour of his cheek before traveling down to caress the hard edge of his jaw. You move down to his left shoulder and stroked the scars that joined his flesh to metal. Your fingers continue down to the curve of back, stroking down his spine. Then, as if a spell is broken, his eyes open to find yours gazing into them.

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Not-So-Silent Night

Request from anon: Levi and his female s/o sleeping together, cuddling tightly and comfy until levi hears her snoring in a cute soft way but he thinks it’s really cute and he teases her about it the next morning.


“Ah.” Levi sighed quietly as he snuggled up behind you. After a long night of pointless paperwork, he was more than ready to cuddle up beside you and drift off to sleep.

However, as he placed his arm over your waist and molded his frame around you, he heard a faint noise.

“Hmm? You say something, babe?” Awaiting your response, he listened carefully as you inhaled, snoring quietly as you did so.

A smile crept on to his lips as he chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head before placing his lips to your temple gently. Closing his eyes, he couldn’t help but listen to the quiet sound of your snoring as he quickly drifted off to sleep.

“Mm, I’m still so tired.” You threw you arms up over you head as you sat up, yawning loudly.

“Tch, you’re tired? At least I didn’t keep you up with my snoring, brat.” His lips turned up in a smirk as he leaned over tom place a chaste kiss on your lips.

“What?” Mortified, you hoped desperately that you had heard him wrong.

“You heard me. You snore. It’s over. I know now and I don’t know if I can get past it. This might be it for us.”

You smacked his chest playfully as his lips cracked into a smile.

“You’re not funny.” A pout upon your lips, you stood up and began to walk away, but his strong hands were around your waist before you could step away and you were quickly pulled back into his lap.

“I’m only kidding. I think it’s sort of cute.” He pressed his lips to your cheek as he held you tight in his arms and you folded your arms over his in response.

“You’re a jerk.” Smiling now, you leaned your head back to rest it in the crook of his neck as he smoothed your hair.

“And you snore. I guess we’re even.” With a playful wink, he lifted your chin and pressed his lips to yours once more.

You’re No Father

“I requested Anti and Dark putting their differences aside to punish Reader’s father for the emotional abuse he put her through. Thanks in advance!”

Warnings: mentions of torture, blood, and family abuse.

Originally posted by anti-sxpticeye

Originally posted by markfangirl

There was no excuse for what he had done. 
There was no excuse that you could muster up, or wanted to say that would stop them from interfering. 
Already the lights were flickering. The temperature in the room plummeting. 
Your father, oblivious to what was happening, continued to rant. His words were like knives. Digging into your armor that you so perfectly created for times like these. Molded over years from the same treatment that crumpled your confidence and twisted your reflection when you gazed into the mirror. 
You cowered under his gaze. Tears misting the edges of your eyes as his voice sharpened angrily. 
You tried to move away, tear yourself from his rage but your father stepped in front of you. Blocking your exit. 
The light above the two of you popped when your father stabbed a finger against your chest, his words raising in volume. 
The two of you were thrown into darkness for a moment.
But then the TV from the other room started to illuminate a soft green glow.  
You said nothing as your father moved around you towards the light. Pressure was building against your body and you wiped away your tears as a hand gently touched your back. 
“Go to your room,” A deep voice said in your ear. “I’ll come and get you when we’re finished.
You nodded, shaking all over as you fled to your room. 

Your father stepped into the lounge-room. Glaring at the TV as the screen fizzled and buzzed with glitched images. 
The closer he got, the more clearer the pictures became. 
A static screen of you when you were younger. Playing around in the backyard with a sprinkler and a dog, but then it changed. The image darkened as your father appeared on screen. His expression frozen in a shout of rage and you on your knees crying. 
It flickered to another image of you sitting at a desk and doing homework. You were crying, tears ran down your face as you labored over school-work. 
Behind you, your father was again bellowing. His fists clenched and his anger clear in his eyes. 
“No father would treat they’re young so disrespectfully.” A cold voice growled behind your father. 
He spun, his confusion turning to anger as he stared at Dark. “Who are you? What are you doing in my house?” 
Dark loosened his tie a little, smoothing down his coat as he glared. “My name is irrelevant. And my purpose here is to teach you a lesson.”
Your father went to speak but a hand wrapped our his throat, cutting off his air supply as another figure appeared behind him.
A maniacal cackle burst from Anti’s lips as he pressed a blade against your father’s throat.
“Oh yes, we’re here to show you what happens when you mess with our girl/boy.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Your father spat, “Let go of me! I’ll call the police!”
Dark chuckled, a humorless sound that chilled your father’s heart. “You won’t do anything of the sort. Because we won’t let you go until you’re begging for mercy from (Y/N). And even then we’ll keep going, because you didn’t stop tormenting them when they asked.”
Anti giggled, his head wildly flipping out. “Where should we start? The tongue was the worse offender. Maaaybe we should cut it out. Sow it somewhere else.”
Dark hummed, edging closer. “All those years of pain you put (Y/N) through will be carved into your skin. Do you understand?”
Your father went to retort but Dark’s fist slammed into his nose. Anti cackled and threw him down. 
The two lunged on him like predators on down prey.

In your room, you had the stereo playing loud. Burying yourself in whatever distracted you.
But even with the music blasting, you could still hear your fathers cries. Barely audible through the walls.
To say you felt bad would be a lie.
A few hours later, your door opened and you shut off the music as Dark dragged a limp, but groaning body into your room.
The two were speckled with blood. Your father however, was bleeding, his limbs torn and some of his fingers were broken. 
Nasty bruises covered him, his face already swelling from the assault it went through.
Anti kicked your father, a wide grin on his face. “Well, spit it out.”
Your father, not having the strength to even lift his head, tried to form words through his bloodied lips. But only a small whine left his throat.
Dark growled impatiently, reaching down and picking the man up by the remnants of his shirt.
“Speak, filth. Or we’ll begin again until you do.” Dark hissed angrily.
“I-I’m sorry,” Your father managed to say. “I wasn’t the best father. I should have been better. I should have treated you like a daughter, not a stranger. Please, I’m sorry.”
You glared at him, crossing your arms. “I don’t want apologies. All I ever wanted was a father who treated me as they were meant too. You put me through hell, treated me like shit. I couldn’t care less for your ‘sorry’s’. I just wanted to be treated like a daughter/son.”
Your father whimpered as Dark dumped him on the floor. “Come, kitten, we’re taking you somewhere else.”
Dark gestured for you to follow and Anti led the way out of the room. Leaving your father bleeding and broken on your bedroom floor.  

Best Distraction. (Peter Parker.)

Requested – No.

Prompt – Peter Parker breaks up with you because Tony Stark thinks you are a distraction.

Warning – Cursing.

Words – 1,328.


Everyone has a distraction in his or her life and some people can easily remove it, but others are not so lucky. It can be so hard to cut an important person from your life such as a significant other, but some individuals think that they are better off without them. That leads to them completely cutting the valuable person off from their lives. However, sometimes distractions are our only hold of reality.

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anonymous asked:

Fuck owner story. So I work for a popular coffee shop and our district is full of "older" stores. In my store alone our carport is falling apart(a piece actually fell on someones car. Luckily it didn't do any damage and they weren't mad) and the roof leaks really bad. Just recently I've noticed mold growing over where we brew the coffee in open pots. The owner is aware and isn't going to do anything about it. About ready to call OSHA on them.

Homemade Bath Bombs

So what are bath bombs? Every time I walked into stores like LUSH i would be amazed at the variety they had and the beautiful scents. I have only bought one bath bomb from there, simply because they cost about $5-7! Insane. I mean they are wonderful but 6 $ for one bath, its pretty steep. So I started doing some research to see how I could make my own. I love taking baths but 6$ a bomb was just not gonna happen, and sometimes you do need some of that fun fizzy stuff. 

I found a basic recipe and it seemed that I had everything I needed except for citric acid. I bought this bag on Amazon and have also found other uses for it around the house (like switching for that shining powder for the dishwasher, it works the same!). It was 17 bucks, but I mean I could probably make close to 120 bath bombs if I wanted to. So I definitely think it was worth it.

This recipe is super easy to do and I had my girlfriends over for a little bath bomb tutorial. I was so fun! We all brought our own flowers and made our own mixes. Some of them even got more creative than me and mixed colors. Beautiful!

This was my first time attempting these and I’m sure I will only get better at them. This time we only used the essential oils I had on hand which were Orange, Eucalyptus, and Lavender. So good! Maybe I’ll invest in some of those cool globe shaped molds, not too sure though. Anyway let’s get started!

Here is what you will need!

A large bowl

1 cup of Baking soda (Buy it in bulk at Costco if you can!)

½ cup of citric acid

½ cup of corn starch (not pictured, oops!)

½ cup of Epsom Salts (I used unscented but I’m sure scented would be fine as well)

1 tablespoon of almond oil (you can also use jojoba oil or coconut)

Any bath bomb mold (I used my cupcake molds, you can also use easter eggs, or use those nice globe molds if you have em!)

A spray bottle with water

Any essential oils you like!

A cookie sheet with a kitchen towel laid on top, and piece of parchment paper on top of that *OPTIONAL*

food coloring *OPTIONAL*

Flowers *OPTIONAL*


1. In the large bowl pour the baking soda, citric acid, corn starch and epsom salts and mix gently with your hands, a fork, or even a whisk. Do this carefully and slowly, if you’re trying to avoid a big powdery mess.

2. Add your essential oils. I added 12 drops of lavender essential oil and 8 drops of eucalyptus. For this amount of mix, you want to stick to about 20-25 drops of oil. I”ll talk about some good scent mixes in another post! So look out for that! 

3. OPTIONAL! If you are adding food coloring, make sure you do it a few drops at a time. I added about 10 drops of green and 5 drops of blue but it can be different for you. When you add the drops add them in separate spots so that too much of the citric acid won’t start reacting. At this point you will start to see some fizzing, but don’t worry, just start mixing it all up.

4. Once you have reached the desired color, you will start to add the water from the spray bottle. Add one spray at a time, mix all the way through, and then add more. You want to reach a wet sand consistency, and it should hold its shape when you squeeze it together.

5.Grab your mold and start packing in your mix, if you are using flowers you can put them at the very bottom of the cupcake tin and then pack in the mix as tight as you can. Here’s my friend Kayla packing it in!

6. Let the bath bomb set in the tins for 10 minutes.

7. Slowly turn the mold over and gently tap it against the table to release the bath bombs. After all of them are out you can let them set for 1-2 days (depends on how much water you added). If you’re impatient, like me, you can heat your oven to 200 degrees. Once it reaches temperature, turn it off and place your bath bombs on that cookie sheet with the towel and parchment paper. Leave them in the oven for about 4 hours! don’t open it or reheat it just let it be.

That’s it!!! If you do not use the oven, you can leave them out for a couple days and you can use them when they are dry! 

No more spending tons of money for bath bombs! Super easy to make and you’ll love them!

Together For Forever;

1: Let’s have a Great Day


summary: what if it was all a dream? What if Evan fell out that tree, hit his head, and dreamt it all up. Connor’s death, the lies, Zoe, what if he woke up and things were happening all over again but he knew the outcome. Evan has a chance to change what broken pieces one letter caused, what if he changes it and nothing better comes out of it. 
a/n: dear evan hansen is an amazing story about teens and mental health awareness. I don’t plan on leaving those themes out so if that makes you uncomfortable, this is probably not the series to read. I also plan on using all the information I can from my year(s) as a psych major…sooo *brushes off the dust from my psych degree and achievements* this is totally how I pictured using this.
Warning: anxious thoughts; cursing
w/c: 5784 (faaaaaak)
Sincerely Taggin’: @hell-yes-puns-and-ships for beta’ing <3

‘I wanted to make sure, he saw this…’ She replied, the wind in her hair as she whipped around and with bitten back tears retreated from the bench. Evan watched Zoe go, the guilt still ate at him. It left him bittered. He clambered down on the bench and thought back on his actions. He thought back on the year that he felt at the time he’d never live past. But he did, here he was. He closed his eyes, mentally writing himself one more foolish letter. Another ‘sex’ letter Jared would have called it. Still, he felt uneasy. He watched the evening sky melt along the horizon, the orchard trees bare and tried to imagine what the Murphy’s picnics looked like when Connor was there.

He wanted to lift his head and see who was calling him, maybe Zoe changed her mind? Maybe she wanted to stay a bit longer? Wishful thinking on Evan’s part. No the voice wasn’t Zoe’s it, was deeper but his head was aching so bad he couldn’t put a face to the voice.

His eyes started to water, why was there so much pain? Was he going to die? Of what? Suddenly his brain melting for no reason? Guilt? Why didn’t it melt earlier and why was his last thoughts of some disembodied voice calling out for him? Wasn’t he suppose to have his life flash before his eyes or…actually now that he thought about it he rather the ear bleeding pain he was feeling over going over his life. Nineteen years of mistakes was not the last thing he wanted in his dying moments. Before his world went black, before he was sure he had died and there was nothing he could do about it.

Evan was not dead. Death was not suppose to feel so uncomfortable. The pounding in his left temple was so bad he felt like someone was using an ice pick to clean out his ears. It was the kind of pain that bounced off the walls of his skull and made him feel like someone was shaking him around. Before he could open his eyes he was aware he was not in his room. This bed was stiff, crinkled as his sleepy limbs started to move. A small panic went through him when his left arm refused to feel, he wiggled his fingers and nothing. Slowly he opened one eye and saw nothing but light burn back at his retinas. He had stared into the sun, great now he was blind on top of dead. “Evan…sweetie?” The voice was back, and whoever it was stood in front of the light, thank god. Evan’s eyes blinked, slowly vision came to him. Slowly the shadow had a face, a worried set of eyes and a wrinkled frown with long blond hair.

“Mom…” Evan croaked, his voice was raw and dry. He never felt so cottoned-mouth since that time he had to present to the class in Sophomore year and literally wheezed. Her hands fluttered over his face, his sore face. “What….happened why …does everything huuuurt” he groaned the more he started to wake up the more pain began to build. It was everywhere, like he was nothing but a human bruise. He glanced at the only part of him that was somewhat painless for the moment. His left arm was held up by a sling. “And where am I?” He noticed the walls were white, and there was strange machinery all around. His mind still not having come through all the way could only assume he was abducted by aliens for further processing.

The hands on his face were cool, soothing if it wasn’t for the fact even the lightest touch hurt. She ran her hand through her son’s hair and smiled at him, fighting back joyous tears. “Well…you fell out of a tree.”

“What?!” No…Evan wasn’t in a tree, not that he remembered. Wait? What did he remember? Zoe…an orchard… It was all right there but slowly getting fuzzier and farther away as if it had all been… “When” He shook his head clinging to the shreds of memories that were melting away.

“Two days ago…”His mother slowly nodded her head as she cleared up the missing memories. “I don’t know why you were up in a forty foot tree…but you fell, yeah, and when the Park Ranger on duty was making his rounds he called you in…You were out there for almost an hour.”

Holy shit, he could have died. An hour? Why did it take so long…then again why was he working at the park? “Mom what…what day is it? In what year?”

“It’s the last Sunday of August, 2016.” She frowned a bit, “you start high school again in a few days…Senior year…” She tried to sound cheery. “The doctor said you suffered a bit of a concussion…you were out cold for two days.I was ….” There was a strain to her voice, Heidi felt as though she came too close to losing her only son. “It’s a miracle all you have are a couple of bruises and a broken arm.”

“A broken arm?” He glanced at his arm and felt a strange wave of familiarity come over him. This had happened before but he couldn’t seem to be in the right mind to remember. “Ugh my head…are you sure I still don’t have the concussion? I-I think I might have some internal bleeding, m-mom get the doctor…” Evan started to slowly panic, now that he was alive he would have liked to keep it that way.

“Shh, shh.” Heidi pulled the call button from Evan’s side before his good hand could get to it and started spamming for the nurse. “I’ll get the doctor, he’ll check you right up and soon we’ll be good to go back home.” His mother slowly pulled away from Evan’s side, she gave him one happy little smile and disappeared out of his room. He couldn’t see beyond the white dividing curtain. He took a moment to look over his surroundings, nerves itching at the back of his throat when he realized he was really out of it.

“Wait…if I’ve been out for two days…where have I been going to the…” He lifted up the sheet his good hand and peered down his bruise blotched body.To his horror he was not only naked, there was a catheter in his…He gulped down hard, feeling nothing but a sickening ache ripple through him. His lips opened and closed like he was going to say something.

“Ah, Mr. Hansen it’s good to see you’re awake.” The doctor came in, of course she was a woman. She watched as Evan’s pale, cold sweat drenched face locked eyes on her.

The terror overtook him and in the highest octave ,known to only some species of bats and dogs, he yelped “WHAT IS ON MY PENIS?!!

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anonymous asked:

So you were talking about how Bioshock Infinite handled morality a few weeks ago. Do you think Undertale handled it better, and how so?

i mean even Shadow the Hedgehog handled morality better than Bioshock Infinite.

Comparing those two is a bit of apples to a rotten 3 year old orange with mold all over it. Most of the things Undertale does better than Bioshock: Infinite are also things that could be said for Bioshock 1.

But as for things I like about how Undertale handles morality.

For one, it really sticks to one core principle “killing has consequences”. Not ‘killing is wrong’, it just has consequences.

As such it takes a very objective approach to things. Killing isn’t portrayed as right, wrong, just, unjust, etc. It just has consequences. People are going to get angry at you, families get broken up.

Yet at the same time, you can slaughter half the underground and as long as you spare Papyrus, his brother Sans won’t have any problems with you. If you spare Toriel, she’ll still think fondly of you. Unless you’re at either extreme in the spectrum - True Pacifist or No Mercy - the game simply lays out the objective causes and effects and leaves it to the player to determine if they did the right thing or not.

Even when it comes to the polar ends of the spectrum, there’s a lot of room for flexibility.

The No Mercy route in particular does a number of things that I like, particularly in how many chances it gives you to turn over a new leaf, and how it frames the player as the antagonist of the story.

See, by the time you reach sans Sans, Undertale could be interpreted a cautionary tale about how you shouldn’t debate facists but kill them on sight.

Remember, Undertale’s message isn’t “killing is wrong”, it’s “killing has consequences”. By the time the player reaches Sans the game has made every possible attempt to reason with you or attempt to make peace, and you’ve spat in it’s face every single time.

The player has shown that they will not listen to debate, and thus the game throws the hardest boss at you. Sans will kill you, a lot, and every time Sans kills you it’s portrayed as justified. There’s no way for the player to redeem themselves aside from accepting death. If you attempt to show Sans mercy, he will kill you, and his famous “dunking” is portrayed as justified.

Not only is Sans killing you justified, but the narriative makes a point to say that you should’ve died sooner, that you shouldn’t have been reasoned with and that you should’ve died on the spot. Remember that Chara is meant to represent you, they’re meant to have your name. The game is saying that you, the player, that you would be better off dead, because there’s no possible way no way to reason with you other than a swift iron club to your skull.

Now at the same time, if the player has listens to reason and calls off a No Mercy route, the game will respond to that. The people you spared may still like you. Sans will call you a good person if you spare Papyrus. The game slips back into it’s theme of Objectivity-Based Morality: Reasoning works with people that can be reasoned with, and to the extent that they’re willing to listen to reason. Whether or not it’s the preferred action to take is up to the player to determine, as after all, they did take a number of lives leading up to them turning another leaf.

And at the other end of the spectrum there’s the True Pacifist route. One thing I immidiately like about it is that doing “the right thing” is legitimately a challenge. Bioshock 1 ultimately gave you more rewards if you went with the Good route, thus making Harvesting little sisters ultimately meaningless aside from being pointlessly cruel.

Going back to Undertale, taking a pacifist route means that you can’t get any rewards from leveling up, meaning that bosses are going to be harder and harder, and sparing certain enemies is going to be much, much tougher than simply taking them out. Much like how the No Mercy route constantly attempts to reason with you, the pacifist route constantly challenges you to stick to it.

All of this is really compounded by the ways the game breaks the fourth wall. The impact of killing somebody can be lessened if you could just save scum out of it, so the game makes note of it and reminds you that did, in fact, kill those people. Which doesn’t disqualify you from a Pacifist route, it just means that people with 4th wall breaking powers are going to remember it. Because again, killing isn’t wrong, it just has consequences.

And wow that was a lot longer than i intended it to be.

i feel so fucking bad some days.

i feel so fucking bad that some days i have to walk until I’m lost, until the soles of my feet ache against my threadbare shoes i can’t afford to replace. until I’m tired enough that the tips of my invisible wings drag along the asphalt. when i finally reach streets a place where i dont recognise anything in any direction, or i have been dissociating (or crying, or angry, depending on the day) for long enough to not remember which direction i came from, i allow myself to stop. next i phone someone random from my contacts and listen to them to tell me to use google maps, they’re busy, or i can’t come and get you right now. then i find my own way home, and sit alone, the same bad feeling rotting deep inside me that was there before i left. it feels like flipping over your sofa cushion and being surprised at how much has rotted away, grown over with dark mold, and six months later flipping it again and, again, being surprised at the rate of decay. 

some days, i feel so fucking bad.

my wings were a symbol of pride. their weight dragged me down, buckled the blades of my shoulders and cracked my spine into shards, regardless of their average size. they were weighed down by leaden feathers, some nearly the length of my palm, that sprouted thick and grey from skin. they were weighed down by the thick black ichor that pumped through my veins, always burning hot, always deadly. now i have the whisper of wind against the small of my back, the gentlest brush of feathers occasionally reminding me of their presence, but useless. useless.

where i once had the strength of a sun and a moon, battling endlessly and tiresomely against an equally matched enemy, if not to really win but to further the cause with which i was willing to give my life, now my fight is gone, the only trace left behind being the protection runes sharpied sloppily onto the bandaids that wrap around my knuckles, bloody and bruised in this weak form. i think tearing my halo from my head would feel the same as the slice of a guillotine across my throat, but the sensation of blood spurting from my severed throat would still hurt less than the knowing how alien the sting of my knuckles is when i can’t hold in my rage any more.

something about smoking takes me back. i thinks it must be the lazy smoke itself, pirouetting from the end of my cigarette like it did from the broken down rubble that littered every street i never called home. perhaps, instead, its the burn in the back of my throat thats tastes oh so sweet, just like the burning, rotting taste of holy fire. maybe its how how the stench clings to my clothes like rot, or maybe its how it makes my father disappointed. it certainly takes me back.

i dont miss heaven because I’m still angry about the war, and it is easy to blame them. i died there, or at least i think so. but i wasn’t angry in my old life - i was the perfect little soldier. i just wanted to feel a part of something. but war only brings death. and with death came new life. now I’m old enough and I’ve seen enough of this life and, God, i want out. i want back in my body, i want back my wings, i want back my strength. ill even trade back cigarettes smoke disappearing into the clouds for the clouds under my feet. ill give anything to never have to get lost again.

life isn’t a storybook, and i dont get to go back. but, God, i feel so fucking bad some days.

You Belong With Me (Part 2 Of Teardrops On My Guitar)

A/N: Finally Got Part 2 Up! Let me know what you think! :)

My Master List

You’re On The Phone With
Your Girlfriend She’s Upset
She’s Going Off About
Something That You Said
She Doesn’t Get Your
Humor Like I Do

   “Valerie, that’s not what I meant! It was a joke! Why are you acting all defensive? You know I didn’t mean it, baby.” Dean was standing in his room trying to hash things out with his crazy girlfriend, and yes I did say crazy. This girl was making this poor boy jump through hoops for her ever since they started going out. Any more it seems like Dean is less himself, and more of what this girl wants him to be.

   His door was open, and so was mine so I heard the whole conversation. It also helped that my room was literally right across the hallway from his. It’s been three months since they’ve been together, and I’ve had to bit my tongue through all of it. Sam, Lindsay, and Cas did make me promise that if Dean wasn’t entirely happy with his relationship that I should tell him.

I’m in my room it’s a typical
Tuesday night, I’m listening to the kind of
Music she doesn’t like and she’ll never know
Your story like I do

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Making Out With Topp Dogg

Originally posted by p-guns

I’ve been so busy that I haven’t gotten anything done. I’ll be writing starting tomorrow. In the mean time, enjoy the next installment of “making out with..” Next are 24K and UNIQ! I tried to keep it at a minimal amount but…well, enjoy.

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the decay of all things

We are sitting on the table in this dim room. Various glints of light, ever so brief, reflect off unmoving eyes. Marble, button, glass. We are not sure where the light reflects from, perhaps it is from the disturbing keyhole in the door upstairs. A heavy door. Rickety stairs that creak, of that we are certain.

I know how I arrived at this place, but do you?

I will tell you what I think.

I think you were sitting lazily upon your couch, dawdling on your cell phone. You received a text message from … someone. A friend? Your mother? A lover? Does it even matter?

Regardless, the message was of high import. It could not wait. You shot up off of the couch and left everything behind. Including your phone. If only you had your phone now, perhaps things would be different. We will never really know. No point in losing ourselves in should haves, or could haves, is there?

You did not recognize the address they sent you, the area where they told you to meet, but you knew how to get to that general neighborhood. You figured you could make your way from there.

From your gentle green lawns, and smooth brickwork you came, into the gradual decay of all things. So natural, this decay of all things, those potholed roads, the litter in the wind, the building up and toppling over of concrete giants. Our buildings here were grand and shining, glorious things once, long ago - we are certain of it. You walked slow and careful. And as you did so, and the dirty residents that scoured the shadows - scoured for nothing at all - they thought you one of their own. You, slow and careful, head down to the nasty smelling streets, became part of the decay of all things, willingly or no.

Tilted walls of fading graffiti that seemed to shift, but only when looking away.

Unblinking eyes unseen behind broken windows.

Layers of thick dust and mold over most windows. The eyes were there still.

Where were you? How could you ever have been where you were before, when you stood here in a place like this, in the decay of all things?

All of the street signs were ripped up long ago. And you figured that you could make your way here from home. Whatever that was.

Papers blew by in a vile ghost of a wind. Scrawls of defiled phrasing, useless corporate data, terrible ‘prose poetry’. The words gnawed just behind your ears, like needles, though you could not even focus on the papers themselves. Maybe the words came from the papers, maybe not.

The words told you that the crumbling house before you was where you were to be, within the decay of all things.

You shuffled in, there was no better that you could do. You wished you would not. You wished you had sharp teeth so you could escape with the hooligans, the vagabonds, the criminals, the vagrants, the dirty remnant shades of people here.

You wished you could even just open your mouth.

You shuffled in, and went down into the darkness of the decay of all things, and the door closed behind you.

That is what I think.

So now our mother watches us, her face pressed lovingly over the disturbing keyhole, as we watch you, unmoving, in a dim room deep within the decay of all things.

tumblr is a place where if you make a post about something specifically, people feel attacked that they weren’t included and imposingly include themselves. I think the biggest one is assessing violence against women and someone in the back brings up “men get hurt too!” While no one is denying this is true, the subject of the theoretical post was originally about women and yet it is being taken over and molded into something else entirely. It is like you can never make a genuine post addressing problems within your gender, race, or sexual orientation etc. without other people shoving in problems of their gender, their race, their sexual orientation, and so on, drifting away from the original problem and almost making it seem like a battle on “who as it the hardest”