papers blowing

forget me not

Words: 13,500
Fandom: Moana
Category: Gen
Relationship: Moana & Maui

Summary:  Look, normally Maui’s all for humans weeping over his injured body. Hey, he’s been demigod-ing for thousands of years, it’s nice to be appreciated every once in awhile, all right? But this one, this girl, acts like she knows him. He disregards it, because that’s just creepy, until he realizes that he has a tattoo of her - and no clue how he earned it.


Alternate title: “?????? ?? ???”

Main idea co-developed between myself and @paperjam-bipper, title credits entirely to her. For some reason, she has made it her mission to tear out my heart on a regular basis. Thanks, Paper.

A couple of quick notes, i.e. I’m putting the abridged glossary at the top this time: The ‘ava ceremony is a formal one used for a variety of occasions, included but not limited to: bestowing the title of Chief (matai) on a new Chief, welcoming visiting tribes to the island, honoring guests, etc. 
The siva tau is a traditional Samoan war dance, used in the modern-day before sporting events. 
The ailao afi is also known as the fire knife dance. Literally, you take a knife, wrap it and cloth and light it on fire. Performed to demonstrate battle prowess. As the daughter of the Chief, Moana would have had familiarity with it even before the movie. I have a headcanon that Moana and Maui, the two giant dorks that they are, looked at this incredibly dangerous dance and went “time to make a duet out of this!!” They would.


When Maui opens his eyes, there’s someone holding his hand.

Which makes waking up way more awkward than it needed to be. Sure, he’s a demigod of many talents, but he’s gotta say that hand-holding isn’t one too often requested.

Then the situation abruptly gets about a hundred times more uncomfortable, because as soon as he opens his eyes this girl decides that his pecs are a good pillow, wrapping her arms around his chest and wow, she’s got a surprisingly strong grip for a mortal. She’s pretty much squeezing his breath out of his lungs, which is impressive, since he’s got a pretty solid pair. Used for anything from hakas to grand story-reenacting. Not a pair like it this side of Lalotai.

“Hey,” he says jovially, trying to prise her off and failing. Good to know he was missed during his millennium off. “Look, kiddo, I know it’s not every day you meet your hero, but you wouldn’t want to make a bad first impression, now would’ya.”

Keep reading

Dice Divination

How To

Draw a circle 7 inches in diameter on a piece of paper/card. Gently blow onto three dice while you think of your question shake the dice and throw them into the circle. Add up all the numbers on the dice

Superstition says to never cast the dice more than three times on the same day, and to never cast them on a Monday

Meanings

3 Sudden changes, but good ones
4 expect arguments or disagreements
5 What you now desire will happen. A wish come true
6 A possible financial loss
7 you may be presented with a difficult matter/problem to solve
8 not everyone will support you
9 A marriage or new partnership ahead
10 Birth of a baby or a new project
11 A parting with someone, but only temporary
12 An important message in he form of a letter, text, or email
13 Sorrow an loss, followed by success
14 Help from a good friend or family member
15 Wait before committing yourself to something
16 A good journey, holiday or trip
17 A quick change of plans is ahead for you
18 Good fortune is on the way

If any die fall outside of the circle

1 Difficulties or upset
2 Arguments or disagreements
3 luck or a wish come true
Any dice on the floor Problems, worry or annoyance very soon

Firelight

Firelight

Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes sat in an uncomfortable high backed chair in his brother’s drawing room. The only light source the flickering flames in the fireplace, causing the consulting detective’s face to be bathed in dancing shadows. His hands were placed together at the palms, fingertips resting on his Cupid’s bow mouth, eyebrows drawn together over his unfocused stormy blue-green eyes.

Sherlock Holmes couldn’t stop his mind from spinning. He couldn’t stop the deluge of information from spiraling nonstop in his brain. His mind palace was in shambles from the onslaught on data it had received in such a short period of time, the walls threatening to crumble, doors in danger of falling right off the hinges, files and cases in flutters of paper like flakes of snow in a blizzard. He stood at the entrance of his mind palace, staring down the hallway, watching papers blow about in an unseen wind. He knew he needed to start sorting out the mess in his head before it got out of control and he lost all form of organization, knew he should be trying to categorize the events of the last forty-eight hours, but the door at the very end of this particular corridor was calling to him.

He knew where he had to go. He knew whom he must see within the labyrinthine halls of his extensive memory. He knew he needed to open the shaking door and face her. But…

Sherlock Holmes was terrified of what he might find in his subconscious.

The door at the end of the corridor rattled violently on its hinges, the handle twisting and turning as who was behind it tried to force her way out. Steeling himself for a subconscious confrontation, Sherlock started to move towards the door, his mind altering the layout of the halls, forcing the door to meet him halfway, his hand inches from the rattling handle…

“You know you must talk to her, brother mine.” Mycroft’s voice interrupted.

Sherlock came crashing back to reality, blinking the dryness from his eyes; a result of not blinking for such a long period of time. He sighed, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

“I know,” Sherlock admitted, not bothering to face his older brother.

Mycroft walked over to the chair opposite Sherlock and sat down heavily. Sherlock flicked a glance his brother’s way, noticing the dark circles under Mycroft’s eyes, the new lines that seemed to find their way onto his face overnight, and the way his waistcoat hung more loosely on him than it had before.

“However hard that must have been at Sherrinford, you must explain to her what happened. Even I know that.” Mycroft said, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips.

“What am I supposed to say to her?” Sherlock asked in a low voice, folding his arms across his chest, staring deep into the dancing flames before him.

“Explain it to her as you see fit, brother mine.” Mycroft said, staring at the flames for a moment before looking at Sherlock. “But I do suggest that perhaps you should start with the truth.”

“The truth,” Sherlock scoffed. “And how would I even begin to explain that I have a long lost sister, whose memories I repressed because she is psychotic. She has killed numerous people just for the hell of it, became best friends with Moriarty after five minutes worth of conversation, somehow snuck out of a maximum security island prison twice, tried to seduce John, and then became his therapist under a different disguise, and helped me find the most dangerous serial killer in all of London. Oh, and she killed my childhood best friend when she was a child herself, and because of the trauma, I changed my very human friend into a dog in my memories.”

Sherlock clenched his jaw and glared at the flames, his nostrils flaring with anger.

“I see your dilemma,” sighed Mycroft.

Sherlock gripped the arms of the chair with his long white fingers and leaned towards Mycroft.

“Do not pretend for one moment that you even understand feelings, Mycroft.” He spat. “You were there; you saw what Eurus did to me. To her.” Sherlock jumped to his feet and began to pace, his anger causing white hot energy to scream through his veins.

How could so much change in such a short amount of time? Sherlock thought, dragging his hands roughly through his hair. Nothing in the last forty-eight hours made sense to him. How could he go from his biggest problem being a double murder late at night, to having a psychotic sister all of the sudden?

Things were so much simpler before Mary died. Before the Culverton Smith fiasco.

Before Sherrinford.

Just a month before Sherlock’s ill fated journey to the London Aquarium, he had let himself into Molly’s flat with the intention of using her spare bedroom as a quiet place to think, when he found himself standing next to her bed. As always, Molly gave him what he needed without him having to actually ask, and he had fallen asleep with the small pathologist wrapped in his arms.

What had become the norm for them changed completely when Mary died, and Sherlock had lost John Watson’s friendship for a while. He could still remember how sadly Molly had looked at him, standing outside the Watsons’ door, holding their goddaughter. It was such a sharp contrast to the laughing, comfortable Molly that had stood beside him at little Rosie’s christening, jokingly reprimanding him for giving his phone more attention than his goddaughter.

The day she had given him the note from John, had repeated John’s hurtful words to him, was the last time he had seen her sober.

The night he showed up to her flat, high from a mixture of cocaine and morphine, she had taken one look at his stubbled jaw and unkempt hair, and slammed the door soundly in his face. He had left her a note (slid underneath her door) asking to please meet him at the following address in two weeks’ time. Three days later he received a text from her. It was short and to the point, saying she would be there.

She refused to answer any of his following messages. And refused to talk to him the whole drive to meet with Culverton Smith, except her outburst when John had shown up.

“For Christ’s sake, Sherlock! It’s not a game!” she had practically screamed at him.

He looked at her, properly, for the first time since she had slammed the door in his face. Sherlock noticed the dark circles under her eyes, how limp her hair seemed. Her face was drawn, and her nails were shorter where she had bitten them.

“I’m worried about you, Molly.” Sherlock said, looking closer at her, trying to see through the haze of the drugs in his system. “You seem very stressed…”

Molly threw him a dirty look. “I’m stressed, you’re dying!” she spat venomously.

He couldn’t resist getting a jab in, not in his altered state.

“Yeah, well, I’m ahead, then.” He said, his eyes flashing for just a moment.

The look she gave him haunted him for the next month.

All he wanted was for things to go back to the way they were before, when everything was simple, and his actions went unquestioned. He just wanted to let himself into Molly’s flat whenever he felt like it, wanted to slide into her bed and wrap her in his arms and get some actual sleep. He wanted to-

“Oh!” Sherlock exclaimed, halting in his pacing.

His outburst woke Mycroft, who had dozed off in his chair. He looked wildly around, before his eyes settled on his little brother. Sherlock was still as a statue, eyes wide.

After ten minutes of Sherlock staring unblinkingly at nothing in particular, Mycroft decided to break the silence.

“Care to inform me what I could’ve missed, that you have somehow deduced?” Mycroft drawled.

“This is my fault.” Sherlock murmured, still staring straight ahead, lost in his mind.

“Your fault?” Mycroft asked. “Sherlock, we have discussed this. This whole matter of Eurus, of what happened at Sherrinford, everything, none of it is your fault. You were a child when it started-“

“No, Mycroft! Molly! Eurus choosing Molly for her demented little game. That was all my fault!” Sherlock said, snapping his eyes to Mycroft.

Mycroft closed his mouth and looked at his younger brother with wide eyes.

Of course! Thought Sherlock. It was his own entire fault! Why else did Moriarty choose unassuming little Mousey Molly Hooper to get close to him? Why not choose John? Or Mrs. Hudson? Or even Lestrade? The answer was simple. Sherlock was always telling John that he never observed, and after all this time, it was Sherlock who chose not to observe what was right in front of his face.

Molly Hooper mattered most.

The years he had been using her flat as a bolt hole. All the years he would sprawl on her couch, or go through her fridge, or do experiments in her bathtub. All the nights they would share meals together (Molly being the only one who could actually convince Sherlock to eat on a semi-regular basis), or watch crap telly. All the days he would actually clean up after himself while he was at her flat because she liked things neat, whereas he would leave a trail of destruction at his own.

And now, most recently, all the nights he fell asleep content to just be holding Molly in his arms.

How long had the cameras Eurus used been in Molly’s flat? Half a year? A year? Two? Five? Did it really matter? One week of watching footage from Molly and Sherlock’s interactions would have been more than enough for someone as smart as his sister to deduce how he felt about her.

The one person, they thought who didn’t count, mattered most of all.

And it had been used against him.

Sherlock realized that he kneeling on the floor, not quite remembering how he ended up getting there. He looked up from his hands to Mycroft, eyes wide and full of doubt and questions.

“What do I do, Mycroft?” Sherlock asked in a strained voice, looking to Mycroft very much like his baby brother from childhood.

Mycroft looked back at him, and for once the older brother’s face held none of its usual contempt.

“What you must.” Mycroft replied.



The biggest of shoutouts to @forthe for making this actually readable, you are the best proof reader that has ever existed! And to @moll for her invaluable ideas, thank you for putting up with my seven million emails a day! A huge thanks to both of you for your continuous encouragement, because without your support, my writing would never see the light of day. And thank you, readers, for your continued kind words about my fics, y'all are the best!!

i rambled about powers au whoops

  • everything is the same except they have powers
  • if anyone is late to filming any video, bruce will sit in their seat and shift into an exact copy of them
    • this usually ends in yelling and bruce doubled over and wheeze laughing
    • if it’s james, bruce will start the video as him and when james shows up, he does That Face and the camera usually cuts to them back in their regular seats
  • no one is scared of matt because he’s such a chill guy, but even though they know most of matt’s threats are empty threats, they’ll shut up as soon as he says anything
  • matt laughing nervously when the cult of peake formed and people praised him because he may or not be an actual god
  • elyse gets feathers everywhere and if someone notices one she’ll blow it away very nonchalantly
    • “elyse im going to plUCK YOUR WINGS”
      “STAY AWAY FROM THEM”
  • if elyse is mad she’ll push someone’s things off their desk or blow their papers right off the edge (like a cat that needs attention)
  • james Constantly shows off and does ridiculous workout positions in the middle of the office because why not
    • benchpressing other people. constantly
  • if someone pisses off omar he’ll go over and pick them up, and then threaten to chuck them across the room
    • spoiler: he never would do it but it’s funny to see them get really nervous
  • adam will sometimes just randomly copy someone’s powers for the fun of it
    • usually elyse or bruce
    • if it’s bruce he’ll shift into a copy of bruce and do anything he does and it’s so annoying
    • if it’s elyse they’ll just be flying buddies or they’ll go outside and try to spontaneously combust things
  • lawrence will watch people do things at home and then text them about it just to freak them out.
    • james goes to the gym, and then gets a text “go romance the squat rack i wanna see that ass” and james just holds a middle finger up to make sure lawrence can see it
  • joel randomly making the lights brighter in the office and getting things thrown at him because of it
  • never let joel stay over your house because he will wake you up by making your room extremely fucking bright and it’s the worst
    • or he’ll make himself invisible and then terrorize you while you shower
To Find a Lost Object

You will need the following items for this spell:

  • 1 white candle (a tea light works too as long as it’s white)
  • a slip of paper
  • a pen

Write the name of the object you are looking for on the slip of paper. Then, light the candle or tea light and ignite the paper with the candle or tea light. As the paper burns, say the spell five times:


I call upon the forces that you have bound,
For an object of mine needs to be found.
Whether it be lost or stolen,
Seek out this object as this charm is spoken.


When the paper has burned completely, blow out the candle or tea light and have compete faith that this spell will work.

Like a Shadow Spell

For hiding in plain sight and blending with the shadows of a place

Materials: 

  • Black ink
  • Paper
  • Pen
  • Bowl full of water
  • Picture of the location you wish to not be noticeable in 

Time to Perform: Dusk or dawn, preferably on or near the new moon.

 Preparation

  • Create a sacred space however you usually do. 
  • Place the bowl of water onto the picture (you can place multiple pictures underneath, including pictures of people you don’t want to be noticed by). 

Performance 

  • Write your name on the piece of paper. Once you have, blow gently onto the paper. 
  • With your left hand, dip the pad of your thumb in the black ink. 
  • Smear it across the paper so that it covers your name while saying: 
  • Faded be my name. Hidden be my face. A shadow and I will be the same. May I not be seen when I do not wish it in this place. 
  • While the ink is wet, submerge the paper in the bowl of water, letting the water be turned black. 
  • Say: I am like a shadow in the corner of the eye. No sight may easily catch me. Wandering gazes will pass me by. I am a shadow, too hidden to see. 

Post Performance

  • Dispose of the materials as needed. 
  • Repeat as needed and adjust words accordingly if you want to use this for hiding from a person, rather than a place.

dragonoussenses99  asked:

*She grimaces and eyes the fire charm* Crap... I'll keep that in mind Ishi... Ryokai... I don't want to do this... but if I have to... *She prepares herself and watches him for when he moves*

Those paper charm will do the most damage when you’re up close, so keep that in mind.

Ryokai: ….I w-w-wonder…h-how fast a-a-are you wh-whilst y-your possessed….? *Blows the paper charm towards Dragonous* ….can y-you beat Heaven’s Fire….? *The room starts to heat up*

It blows my goddamn mind when people say “I don’t need feminism because X” with X being something like “men and women can both vote” or some other specific situation in where men and women are equal on paper. These arguments blow my mind because it shows how people fundamentally misunderstand feminism. The feminist movement is a series of political movements aimed towards gender equality

feminism = equality

so when you say “I don’t need feminism” what you are actually saying is “I don’t need equality” and if you’re trying to back up the reason why you don’t need feminism with examples of equality, you clearly don’t understand what feminism is in the first place

imagine caejose

joseph throws an aimed paper airplane at caeasar and it crashes (not a big surprise) and caesars like What The Fresh Hell and then joseph winks and is motioning him to open the paper while blowing kisses and makin faces at the blonde and caesar smiles bc joseph is a goof and hes excited to open the paper and in josephs messy scrawl it says “fuck u”

Headcanon: RBW have told every variety show that under *no* circumstances should the girls be allowed to play the suck/blow paper game because somebody (Moonbyul) can’t be trusted to not “accidentally” drop her paper.

And they definitely are not allowed to play the pocky game for even more glaringly obvious reasons.

Robot Prompt List
  • It’s been my life’s work to make a feeling robot and guess what, it’s been my lab partner’s life work to steal it. If anyone can get them back safe, it’s me.
  • I may have modified my desk fan to recognize my face when I sit down so that it turns on. It’s become a bit of a pet and will blow my papers away if I don’t thank it.
  • This AI started out as someone to play princess monopoly with my daughter but soon enough they became another parent to them and demands as much attention from me as my spouse. I think I just made our relationship a triad.

Huijun had been perched on his tree for quite some time, enjoy the warmer weather awkwardly enough for the month and where they were located. He watched the towns people walk past, clearly enjoying the weather too seeing as they were all dressed to the warmth. Which cause the fae much enjoyment as he lounged up there, brown eyes taking in people scattering as random gusts of wind came by, knocking hats off, sending paper work flying, boxes blowing from people hands. Causing much amusement for the fae as he let his foot dangle a bit, clutching his stomach as he laughed. Leaning against the trunk he relaxed for a moment, only to see another person walk by, prime suspect for the prankster of a faerie. Focusing he felt the earth with him as another gust came past, knocking the person just enough to drop the contents in their arm. Sending Huijun into silent fits again, clutching his stomach.